#(and then by company like two of the best officers are dead or left the series!! lawford and knowles which SUCKS)

[bananayuyu]

all tied up {part 1}

Pairing: Yunho x f reader

Genre: angst, eventual smut

Word count: 10.5k

Summary: You never thought you'd have such an awful rivalry with a coworker. How is he so mean, so petty, so under your skin...?

Warnings: smut, MDNI, mentions of reader wanting to die and past traumas, dub con/non con, reader is physically bound against her will, mean yunho, nipple play, fingering, unprotected penetration, after care of sorts (all the smut happens in part 2)

A/n: Well I had the goal of making this maybe 2k words initially, and now it's 22.4k so I decided to split it into two parts (please read the warnings and don't read this if you aren't in the right headspace <3)

Read part 2 here

Read it on ao3

"Morning."

Your coworker's tone is cold as ice, as if he swallowed the winter air on his way to the building and was now spitting it at you. 

"Hi," you grunt, not bothering to look up from your desk. 

It was a biting, harsh morning, and the headache you were nursing wasn't doing any favors to your mood. Only minutes into your work day you already felt bleary, your legs still shivering from the short walk between the subway station and the twenty-story building your office rested in. In the mornings you woke it from its slumber; the lights in the lobby blinking on, even the heater rumbling awake as you walked through the door, as if it took a break from its job all night, too. It certainly felt that frosty in here, especially at 7am sharp, when you stumbled in before everyone else. You preferred this early shift and were thankful to be walking out the door so early each day, early enough that even in the dead of winter the sun hadn't yet set. The early mornings never bothered you; the solitude was tender and warm with you, even if the air was cruel on these freezing winter mornings. 

The intrusion of your steely coworker was unwelcome, to say the least.

"Why are you here so early?" you ask, a sharp edge to your tone. You're bitter that you won't have your usual hour to yourself, especially given the meeting you are set to have with your boss in just a few hours. You'd needed this time to mentally prepare, and here he was ruining your plans, yet again.

"I figured I'd come in early to get work done before our little meeting with the boss," he replies, a slow sigh leaving his lips and betraying just how tense he is. Well, at least it wasn't just you. You had been dreading this morning since last Friday, when the two of you had your worst argument yet, prompting your boss to demand a meeting with you both. You had no idea what would happen; you'd never had your boss demand a scheduled meeting with you in the six years you'd worked here. Things were different now, now that you worked as a grant writer and not at the front desk, but still it was concerning. He always just met with people spontaneously, and the scheduled bi-weekly meetings for the entire administrative staff were the time where conflicts and confusion were dealt with. He'd never called just two people into his office like this; then again, no one at your company had ever butted heads like you two, so badly that it left the whole office simmering with frustration, everyone dreading the sour expression that permanently settled on your features by the end of each day. You were so different now, so changed from the calm and happy woman they all knew.

You stood to make your way to the kitchen, passing by his desk as you went to turn on the kettle, boiling water for your first tea of the day. This morning called for multiple cups, your throat scratchy and dry from nerves, your body depleted from your lack of sleep. You'd stayed up far too late with your best friend last night, rambling about the meeting, begging her to help you come up with an excuse to stay home. She'd laughed with you, throwing out a few random ideas, but she knew as well as you did that you'd be here today. As much as you dreaded it, you would only miss this meeting if you were on your literal death bed, your job meaning too much to you to lose it.

From this angle he had a perfect view of you, your face scrunched up in concentration as you set the kettle to temperature, placing other employee's dirty dishes from the sink into the dishwasher. You were too obsessed with organization, in a way that made him irrationally angry, but he couldn't stop watching you every day, watching the way you adhered so severely to your little routines, watching the way his interruptions cast your face in worry and made you snap at him. Today, like every Monday, you wore your favorite shoes, the black platform Mary Janes. Up your legs stretched your thigh-high wool socks, also black, held up by a ruffled stretch of gray lace at the top. Over your hips lay a gray tartan skirt, reaching almost down to your socks, leaving an inch of bare thigh exposed in a way he thought wasn't really work appropriate. And then there was your black turtleneck, tight and accentuating your obviously braless chest, the curves and shapes of your body not hidden in the slightest. He was watching you intently, waiting for you to finally notice, and boy was he not disappointed when you finally did.

"You've hid my mug, haven't you," you spit, slamming the dishwasher harder than you needed to. You hadn't seen it in the cabinet, so you'd gingerly searched through the dishwasher too, desperately hoping someone else hadn't used it the previous week and neglected to wash it. Not finding it in there was a relief in some ways, but immediately you knew who was at fault for its disappearance, and his dark chuckle in response to you confirmed your suspicions ten fold. "You're such a dick," you grumble under your breath, reaching for any other random mug in the cabinet, needing something to house the tea you desperately need.

"What was that?" he asks, his tone mocking you, knowing exactly the sentiment of what you'd said even if he hadn't heard you clearly. You sigh and roll your eyes, ripping open your tea bag and plopping it in the mug, gently pouring the steaming liquid over it. "You just love to blame me for everything, don't you, even if you have no proof." His voice is low, dark, and it makes a shiver run through you even as the steam of the water warms your face. "You're cruel y/n, so cruel." His tone of voice makes you feel trapped, even all these feet away, and you just freeze for a bit, your tea steeping a bit longer than it should have. A creak of the building snaps you out of it, and you fling the tea bag into the trash, gently blowing over the mug and taking a tiny sip, testing the temperature.

Finally you turn, catching a glimpse of him. Jeong Yunho, the newest addition to your little office, hired about six months ago now, you realized. The date hit you in the gut this morning; the year had flown by, especially the last half, and in days it would no longer be this year anymore, no longer be the ending of an adventure but rather the start, when you'd have to plan again, think again. His suit today is stone gray, the color only barely darker than his wool overcoat, his tie a dark navy that really just looked black. His shoes were dark navy too; which you only knew because of the difference in the toe box from his other black shoes, the ones he normally wore. It must be a special day, he must be heading to something important after work. Some sort of meeting? No, that wouldn't really make sense, you all didn't work in a field where meetings were held outside of work hours, in restaurants or bars. Unless the meeting was about getting out of here, finding another placement. Maybe a date? Who'd want to date such an asshole, though?

He was rich and good-looking. Even you could recognize that. And boy did it irk you, that he looked so good in his suits, that he wasn't too masculine or too feminine, that his nose sloped in just the perfect way, that his smile was soft and bright and so endearing. You hadn't met many people in your life who were so captivating at first glance, and sure, when he'd first started here a part of you hoped something might happen between the two of you. You'd eat lunch at each other's desks, excitedly discussing your newest grants or talking about your favorite shows, which of course, were the same. It was a blissful few weeks, a beautiful honeymoon of sorts. Of course it couldn't last forever; you landed your dream job, everything you'd been working towards finally coming true last year, a new perfect apartment with your best friend being the cherry on top. Of course this year a man appeared and tried to ruin everything.

The two of you work in silence until 7:45, when everyone else starts arriving for the day, led of course by Dr. Acharya, the supervising psychotherapist. Next is Tally, who gives you a short wave as she heads to reception, her horn-rimmed glasses peeking over the window to blow you a kiss when she finds the mug of tea you'd made waiting for her. Soon many others scramble in together; Marnie, Amir, Rua, and Keisha, each making their way to their individual offices to ready themselves for their first clients. Soon Jongho, in charge of billing and accounting, walks in too, sitting down at his desk next to Yunho. And finally Eliana stumbles in just before eight, her giant coffee in hand, her eyes slightly dark with panic like they always are as she rushes into her office. Your boss, Mr. Kangsoo, won't be in for another hour at least and the day lurches forward as the first clients of the day are brought back for their counseling sessions, the office breaking into a low hum that will stay with you until you leave.

Your digitizing task today is boring but necessary, and that headache isn't leaving you, even with the tea warming your throat and your favorite piano concerto comforting you through the morning. You always loved Rachmaninov in the winter. But even so, your mood was sour, too sour. Yunho and Jongho's comfortable chatter was making your blood boil, making it hard for you to focus on your stupid, tedious task. In a huff you stand, heading straight for the reception office, papers in hand.

"Hi hi," Tally greets you as you open her door, gently closing it behind you.

"Dude, I'm dreading this meeting," you say immediately, sighing.

"Why? I'm sure nothing bad will come of it, Mr. Kangsoo loves you," she says, canceling an appointment on her screen and typing out a note.

"I know, I'm just already pissy today, not exactly the best mood to be bringing to the boss's office," you chuckle, setting your papers on the corner of her desk. "I kept neglecting digitizing this pile and now I can't stop obsessing over it. And Yunho came in early today, and hid my fucking mug. Again."

"Did you see this?" she asks, grabbing a sticky note from the corner of her computer and holding it out to you.

Can you please let the pretty one know she's never driving me from this job, no matter how hard she tries?

"God he's such an ass," you whisper, making Tally giggle. "Thank god for you girl, I don't know what I'd do without you here."

"You're 100% sure it's Yunho?" she asks, eyeing you.

"Who else would it be?" you reply, rolling your eyes, making her laugh again. 

"Well, I guess now 'the pretty one' has been told," she giggles, rolling her eyes too as she crumples up the note and tosses it in the trash.

"Like I said, he's an ass," you reply, not as quietly this time. A parent obviously waiting for their child snaps their head up, looking in your direction. They're maybe twenty feet away, and the window between the lobby and the reception desk is small, so you doubt they really heard you. But you balk in embarrassment anyway, silencing yourself.

"I should get back to my desk, I guess," you say, sighing as you pick up your stack of papers once again.

"Just ignore him," Tally says, smiling kindly.

"I'll try," you sigh, earning a disapproving look from Tally. "I will, I promise. You're right, I know, I should just ignore him," you answer, looking over to see the back of his head, his large hands crossed over each other and resting there on his jet black hair.  Fuck him, you can't help but think. Everything had been going so well, and you'd never been someone who got into drama at work, ever. It was a point of pride for you for a long time, a huge reason why your boss gave you the position he did and trusted you to be a part of his team. Now it had all been ruined, by this fucking asshole, in his perfectly tailored suits.

The day dragged on, your mind spinning with anxiety. It wouldn't leave you until that dreaded meeting, you knew that, so you busied yourself with scanning and organizing the files, not bothering to try to get any writing done. There was no way you would, not in this state.

Finally your boss arrived, his heavy footsteps sending waves of dread through you, your stomach a fluttering mess. You hadn't been able to eat this morning, which was very unlike you; you could feel how weak you were from the lack of sustenance, the adrenaline making you shakier than it normally did. You stumbled on wobbly legs towards his office once he called for you, Yunho's presence dark and foreboding behind you, and you swore you heard him whisper 'behave yourself' as the two of you passed into the office. Your blood was boiling as you sat down, the two chairs facing the front of your boss's desk, your face a permanent scowl as you stared Yunho down, watching him settle himself down in the chair and spread his legs farther than he needed to, looking all too comfortable.

"Ok, to start, this is not to scare you, or fire you," your boss begins, already zeroing in on the dynamic between you; the cool and collected look of Yunho, and the angry, stricken look of you, your eyes deep with worry when you meet your boss's gaze. "You both know me, I don't really do this sort of thing. I don't need to control you all, to be a good leader." He sighs deeply, looking almost as pained as you do, like he's mulled this over for too long himself. "I just can't let this go on any longer. The conflict between you two is affecting everyone, and it's clearly affecting your own work, too. I can see it in the quality of your writing. You are both very smart, very good grant writers, and even so you've been doing a good job, but I know you both can do better. And this fighting, it really needs to stop." He sighs deeply again, shaking his head subtly, like his subconscious is trying to rid itself of the stress you two have caused him. It makes so many feelings bloom in your guts, but the overwhelming one is guilt, the feeling so entirely consuming that you have the urge to jump to the floor now and start babbling out apologies. But you stop yourself, stop the tears from coming, and taking a deep breath you regain some composure. You know your boss, and you know his cadence, so you know he has more to say.

"So, we're figuring this out today. I don't care what it takes, we're settling this. So tell me, why do you two fight so much?" His eyes sweep back and forth, eyeing each of you for any sign, any subtle movement that could give him some idea of what was going on. He had his own theories, but he really couldn't be sure, and due to his laid back nature with his staff, he hadn't been monitoring you two enough to really know. With a sigh he leans back in his chair, letting the silence hang in the room until one of you is willing to break it.

"Sir, I don't think she's liked me from the moment I started here," Yunho finally speaks up, leaning forward in his chair and setting his elbows on his knees, the casual and confident gesture making your skin crawl. "I think she's been trying to make me miserable, so I'll leave-"

"That is not tru-"

"I think she feels some sort of ownership here, cause she's worked here so much longer than m-"

"That is absolutely not true!" you cry, your shot nerves leaving you unable to control your volume. "I would never try to run someone out of the office that way, that's completely unprofessional! He's the one who started all of this, he's the one who leaves nasty notes for me and hides my things and puts me down constantly in every admin meeting, trying to make me look like an idiot in front of everyone! If we're really gonna go there, I think he feels intimidated by my experience here, by the fact that I have a clearly established relationship with everyone, that you and all the therapists like me, and that even though he has more experience than me I'm still writing better grants!"

"Y/n, please keep yo-" your boss starts.

"I'm sorry, sir, but he left a note for me on Tally's computer this morning! How unprofessional is that! Now he's dragging her into our drama too, which I promise you I've never done! I-"

"Oh sure, you've never complained about me to anyone in the office," Yunho juts in, rolling his eyes. "It's not like everyone here sides with you on everything, always. If it weren't for Jongho I think you would have made everyone in this office hate me by now."

"Everyone loves you here, what do you mean?" you shoot back, your eyebrows furrowed in frustration. "I never talk about you to any of them, not even Tally. Because I know it would be wrong. Maybe everyone sides with me on certain issues because I'm right, have you ever considered that?! And by the way, Tally thinks poorly of you because of her own observations, because she doesn't like the things you say to me. So that has everything to do with you and your shitty behavior-" you cut yourself off, slapping a hand over your mouth. Because as comfortable as you are with your boss, you never, ever curse in front of him. It's an unspoken rule in the office, and one you'd never struggled to follow before. Shame washes over you like a wave of boiling water, making your whole body begin to shake.

"I'm so sorry, sir," you bow your head to him, your eyes closed as you fight to keep yourself from bursting into tears.

"She's obviously quite emotionally unstable, sir," Yunho pipes up from beside you, and of all the things he's said recently it's definitely the most hurtful. Your head shoots up, a single tear racing down your cheek despite your attempts to keep it at bay, and you just stare at him, your face betraying everything you're feeling.

"There's no need for that sort of insult right now, Yunho," your boss scolds him. "I need you two to resolve this, not fight even more. So tell me about this note, what did it say? Why did you leave a note for y/n on Tally's desk?"

"I'm sorry sir, I understand," Yunho responds, his perfectly respectful tone and gestures looking so put on. "And honestly sir, I have no idea what y/n is talking about. I didn't leave any notes for anyone this morning."

"Oh, so you're going to lie right to our boss's face?" you ask him, your volume lower but your anger still evident. "Do I need to go grab Tally? Seriously?"

"Did this note have my name on it anywhere?" he chuckles, fixing you with a strong gaze. And if you aren't mistaken, there's some sort of twinkle in his eye, almost like he's enjoying this. Is it seeing you suffer, seeing the anger and sadness in your eyes that makes him feel joy? Or maybe it's just messing with you in front of your boss, forcing you to over-explain yourself to the point of looking hysterical. Whatever it is it makes you uneasy, your stomach feeling like it might fall out of your ass at any moment.

"Sir, it said, 'Can you please let the pretty one know she's never driving me from this job, no matter how hard she tries?" you say, exasperated. "He just said he thinks I've been trying to drive him out. It was obviously him who left that note." You turn your body to face your boss again, not wanting to catch even a glimpse of Yunho anymore, your eyes pleading with Mr. Kangsoo to believe you.

"Sir, I did not write that. I would never say something so inappropriate about a coworker," Yunho adds, and though you don't see it, he's staring right at you. Your boss sighs heavily, your eyes fixed to the way he's staring at Yunho, the lines in his forehead deep with frustration. He looks like he's about to start speaking but then stops himself, another deep breath moving through his lungs, before running his hands through his hair and leaning back in his chair again.

"God, I wish you two would just sleep with each other already and get it out of your systems," he groans under his breath, but you hear it loud and clear, your whole body on high alert.

"What?!" you snap, your response involuntary. You had respected this man for years, admired the way he ran this office with calm confidence and respect for everyone, and you couldn't believe something so inappropriate had just come out of his mouth.

"Y/n, I'm sorry, I don't mean to be gross. I just can't help but wonder if part of the issue between the two of you is, well, the obvious attraction," Mr. Kangsoo responds, sighing deeply. "I do sincerely apologize if I'm reading things incorrectly, or if that last comment made you uncomfortable. I don't in any way want to encourage my employees to sleep with each other, obviously, and that just slipped out of my mouth. It was inappropriate, I know. I just feel like I'm at my wit's end with you two, and I feel desperate to find some sort of solution. Because you both are incredible employees and I don't want to have to get rid of either of you."

"I'm so sorry sir, that this whole situation with us two has caused you stress, but I can assure you there's no attraction here. Only dislike," you reply, letting out a shaky breath.

"No attraction at all, sir," Yunho adds, making you feel disgusted at actually agreeing with him for once.

"Then why the constant arguing?" your boss asks.

"Like I said sir, he's been tormenting me-"

"She clearly has something against me sir, and I don't know what I could do to change tha-"

"You don't know what you could do?? Maybe stop being so mean to me!" you cry out again.

"Y/n, keep your voice down, this is my last warning," your boss cuts in, his face stern. "You know I see you as almost a daughter to me, you started working here when you were what, 17? And now you've finished your degree, made so many strides in the last few years. I'm proud of you and everything you've accomplished, but I'm struggling to feel proud right now, with how you've been acting recently in the office. It isn't like you. I know Yunho is at fault for this too, and I want you to know I've already talked to him about his comments made during our admin meetings. What he said a few weeks ago, insinuating that you didn't understand the "actual point" of your role in this company because you have less experience than him, was uncalled for. So was his comment earlier. But I see too that you are quick to jump on everything he says, to assume that everything he does has ill intent towards you, and I don't think that that's fair either. I know you're more mature than this," he finishes, his eyes soft as he looks at you.

"I don't think I am, sir," you squeak out, your voice breaking as more tears well in your eyes.

"Y/n, I won't have this. I need you to approach this like you've approached everything else in your life, with the goal of actually understanding it. Don't give up on this now," he says, his voice stern but encouraging in that special way only he can be.

"Sir, how am I supposed to feel watching you accept her hysterics?" Yunho asks, his face tense with annoyance.

"God, you're cruel," you whisper, curling into a ball on your chair, not caring that you're wearing a short skirt and you probably shouldn't be holding your legs this way.

"Yunho, you're getting on my last fucking nerve today," your boss snaps, and both of you have wide eyes of shock, Mr. Kangsoo not one to curse in the office, either. "This entire conversation went worse than I expected, and your uncalled for comments show me that maybe you're not as mature as I originally thought you were. You came in with great references, son, and you clearly are very smart, but you must realize you're up against someone who's been working for me for six years, and who has proven time and time again to be basically the perfect employee. This conflict is a blip on the radar for her, but for you it's been happening almost the entire time I've known you. I want to believe the best in you, but you must understand how this looks from my perspective."

You both just sit frozen, like two kids in time-out, your faces different versions of disappointment. Your eyes are slightly red from crying, and your knees are still pulled up to your chin, your arms squeezing so tightly around them that it hurts.

"I've had it with this conversation, I don't think this is going to work. Which I should have known, it's clear that conversation between the two of you always leads to conflict," your boss continues. "I'm sending you both home, right now, and I'm demanding that you figure out this thing between you, or I'm firing you both. You have a week. Do not return to this office until the two of you have sorted out your issues, and can promise me you will not fight ever again going forward," he states, his arms crossed over his chest.

You both gawk at him, your faces looking almost identical, as you try to take in what he's just told you.

"Sir, I-" Yunho starts, but even he's stumbling over his words with just how shocked he is. "I don't think this is fair, sir. You should- you can't force us to make up, that isn't going to happen. This- we- we'll both be fired by next week," he stumbles out, his collected demeanor finally shattering.

"With all due respect, son, this is my company. I can do what I want. And this is what I feel is best. So both of you go, now, I won't hear another word. Out," he demands, standing and nodding towards his door.

You rise without a word, your body shaking dramatically from the heaps of adrenaline still coursing through you. Silently you grab your coat and scarf, packing up your bag and slinging it over your shoulder, walking to the kitchen to grab your lunch out of the fridge. You make your way towards the front door, stopping briefly at reception to look at Tally, her curly hair hanging down as she furiously types away at a document. Finally she looks up and sees your face, her own twisting into concern and confusion.

"What happened?" she whispers.

"I- I don't know," you respond, shaking your head. "Ask boss about it, I'm sure he'll tell you," you sigh, wiping another tear from your eyes. "I can't stay, I have to go," you squeak, giving her a quick hug, before turning and walking towards the front door again, nearly bumping into Yunho. You don't give him the courtesy of an apology, instead storming past him, walking angrily towards the elevator.

And of course you take the elevator down together, the silence awkward and tense and indescribable. You know he'll probably be walking down to the subway station with you, and it doesn't even surprise you when he gets on the same line as you, heading the same direction. But when he gets off at the same exact stop and you feel him walking up the stairs behind you, you can't just accept it any longer.

"Are you fucking following me?" you spit over your shoulder, your eyes dark with anger.

"No, y/n, I live up this way," he retorts, pointing ahead of you two in the exact direction of your neighborhood.

"God, don't tell me we're neighbors," you groan, trudging down the street, the remnants of last week's snow still stuck in the gutters.

"You live in Arbol Village?" he asks, almost sounding impressed.

"On Maple street," you sigh, with a nod.

"Me too," he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief.

"This isn't funny, you fucking psychopath," you retort, angry that he's still here in your proximity, and angrier that there's only one path up into your neighborhood from this side, and the hill that leads up is making you out of breath in a way that's nothing but embarrassing.

"And you say I'm the mean one," he responds, smiling as he shakes his head.

"I really don't get how you can be so blasé about this," you huff out, your footsteps heavy as you nearly crest the hill and enter your neighborhood.

"Workplaces are shit, this is how it goes. If I have to find another job, I will. But don't think I won't go down without a fight. Mr. Kangsoo is by far the best boss I've ever worked for, so I'm going to do whatever I can to keep my position," he says, his breathing annoyingly stable even after walking the entirety of the hill. Slowly you two start into the neighborhood, but suddenly he's turning down a path towards the second house on Maple Street, the large dark one with an almost Victorian structure. 

"Of course the fancy one is your house," you sigh, seeing the ornate curtains covering only part of the front window.

"Come in, we need to talk more," Yunho says, beckoning you with his hands, but you can't be bothered. 

"Fuck no, are you crazy?" you respond, already stomping down the sidewalk past his house, not bothering to look back. The last thing you could bear is his presence right now, and for some reason you feel like you're not totally in control of yourself anyway, your legs moving so firmly they'd probably still be going even if you protested. Yunho just sighs, himself drained from the meeting you'd just left, and not having the energy to fight more. Later today, or tomorrow morning, he promised himself, he'd call you and start sorting this out for good. But for now he just watched you grow smaller and smaller, your hair blowing gently behind you in the winter breeze, your legs looking weak.

Once you were home, two and a half blocks from your asshole of a coworker, you collapsed on your bed, passing out in moments. In the late afternoon you woke to the sound of the front door slamming shut, your roommate, Yunji, calling, "shit, sorry! The wind is crazy out there!"

"You're good!" you called back, but your voice made it apparent to her that it was one of those days where you needed to be left alone, so she didn't come into your room. You picked yourself up and stripped off your work clothes, finally freeing your thighs of the tight elastics that held up your socks, two red rings now visible on your skin. Automatically you brushed your teeth, grabbing your comfiest hoodie and sweatpants, and passed out in your bed again, not even eating dinner, not checking your phone. The sun had already begun to set, the sky outside rearing for another stormy night, and your body was lulled to sleep within minutes, your head buried deep into your pillows as you pulled your comforter over your head.

You woke in what felt like minutes, your room eerily quiet. The light looked bright outside, very bright; it was disorienting, both the quiet and the light, and you lifted yourself up, squinting around in search of your phone. You'd forgotten to plug it in last night, so it surely would be almost dead. You found it still in your work bag, hanging on for dear life with the battery at five percent. The time astonished you, 9am, and you gawked at yourself. No wonder you felt so disoriented; you'd been sleeping for nearly sixteen hours.

And as you finally sorted through your notifications, your shock over the time left your brain entirely. Because the shock of having a missed call from Yunho, having two missed calls from him, floored you, literally. You sank down to the ground, furiously clicking to see the times. One was last night, at about 7pm, and the other was this morning about an hour ago. This morning he'd left a voicemail too, presumably right after you hadn't answered. With shaky hands you clicked on it, holding the phone tight to your ear so you wouldn't miss a word.

"Y/n, I know you don't like talking to me, but we really should try to sort this out earlier rather than later. Please call me back as soon as you get this."

Well, fuck.

He sounded disappointed, and frustrated, and perturbed to even be leaving the message. But god was that voice convincing, even to you, the way he worded things so eloquently and politely, like he's genuinely a good and thoughtful person. It hit you hard while listening that maybe your anger wasn't justified, maybe you'd been unfair to him like your boss had said. The sneaking feeling had graced you many times over your months of conflict, but now it felt too strong to ignore. Did he really want to sort this out? It sounded like it. Why, why, why was this so damn confusing for you?

Your mind raced as your stomach growled, as you tried to get ahold of yourself. Still sprawled out on your carpet you felt exhausted, your body somehow still feeling pulled towards sleep despite the hoards of it you'd just been allotted. You peeled yourself up, standing carefully, moving towards your window to get a view of the backyard. Looking at the garden always calmed you, even in the winter when most of the flowers were gone. And as you opened your blinds you realized why things seemed so bright this morning, and why you were barely hearing a sound.

A thick blanket of snow covered everything, flakes still falling gently from the sky which was dotted with clouds. The sun shone through a gap in them, reflected bright off the entirely white ground. You breathed out a sigh of relief, knowing that everyone had been forced to stay home today, so your missing work wasn't really a disruption to the office. Whoever was miffed about having to take your early shift wouldn't have to, after all. It was like the world was granting you a favor, as you often felt that she did, and you were so thankful. Because this, too, was a great excuse to avoid Yunho longer. There was no way you could leave the house with so much snow outside; it wasn't safe. You breathed in a sigh of relief, shaking it out as you finally connected your phone to charge, slipping on some thick socks and gliding your way out to the kitchen.

After breakfast you popped back into your room, shooting off a quick text.

Y/n: I just saw the snow, I don't think I can come over. Let's see tomorrow.

Almost immediately a call comes through from him, but you let it ring out. There was no way you were going to waste this beautiful snow day talking to him, and you had a whole week to resolve this anyway. It gnawed at you, in the back of your mind somewhere, but presently you just couldn't find it in yourself to voluntarily speak to him.

Yunho: We can still talk on the phone. And we really should. Y/n: We should take a break from talking and cool off. For today.

That was how you were justifying it to yourself. You needed a break, deserved a break from him. You wouldn't be able to really resolve anything if you were still pissed, and with the shock of the morning's weather and your body's obvious need for even more rest, you just couldn't take it today. Plus, everyone else was getting a day off, why couldn't you?

Yunho: I disagree

You flip your phone over, setting it on your bedside table, and you walk away. You'd had it with him arguing with you over text too, and the idea of curling up on the couch with Yunji, sipping hot cocoa and watching your favorite movies, sounded too enticing. You were not going to think about him anymore today. It was decided.

And surprisingly you were mostly able to keep your promise to yourself, the day passing in all its wintery glory, your favorite tradition with your roommate leaving you just as content as it always did. With a gentle sigh you both finally stood up, moving to the kitchen to wash the dishes you'd made all day, finally putting away the snacks you'd covered the coffee table with. As you both walked past the window in the hall you stopped short, eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before you.

"Holy shit," Yunji said, grabbing onto your arm. You both were used to the snow here, having grown up in the next town over. But this snow, that now seemed to be three feet deep, was something you hadn't seen since the one glorious winter more than a decade ago. You were eight that year, and the day after Christmas it snowed furiously, continuing all the way until New Year's Day when the ground was so covered that everywhere you looked outside all you saw was white.

You hadn't realized it was snowing all day, that the sky had turned dark in the early afternoon with all of the cloud cover. You were both too engrossed in your fun to notice.

"Well, I guess we're not going back to work for another few days," she laughed, sighing at how lovely it looked.

"Thank god," you replied, sighing in relief.

"Has Yunho been giving you trouble again?" she asked, and you turned to her with a downturned smile.

"When is he not," you sighed, laughing.

"Hey, how did your meeting go, yesterday?" she asked.

"Fucking terrible," you reply, a frustrated hand running through your hair.

"What happened?"

"Boss said that if the two of us can't resolve our differences, he's letting us both go," you answer, sighing harshly.

"Oh my god, that's crazy! How could he do that to you??" she replied, eyes wide.

"Girl, I know. I don't even know how it got to this point."

She moved to hug you, knowing just how much this situation had weighed on you, and just how much your job meant. She'd seen it in your eyes, even if you hadn't always told her exactly what was going on. She knew how sensitive you were, and she couldn't believe your boss would say such a thing. Especially given the years of dedication you'd given to that office, that you so genuinely cared about.

"What are you gonna do?" she asks, pulling back. 

"Well I guess, try to resolve it. I don't know how, though, every time we talk he just pisses me off and we fight. He's not reasonable about anything. He's always joking, nothing is ever totally serious. I saw him stutter for the first time yesterday, when Mr. Kangsoo gave us that ultimatum, but earlier in the meeting he was way too casual about everything. He was calling me hysterical and unstable, and, just, how the fuck does my boss think I'm going to solve this? That man is fucking impossible," you say, shaking your head.

"He sounds like a sociopath," she replies. "If I ever see him I will wring his neck, I swear to god."

"Well, you might. He lives in this neighborhood." Yunji's eyes go wide at your comment, her mouth hanging open. "Yeah, I know. He lives on our street, too, you know the fancy looking house that's second in from the road? Like if you're walking from the station this direction, the second house on the right? Yeah, that's his. I found out yesterday when I was walking home."

"How the fuck does a single guy in his twenties afford that?" she asks, baffled.

"He clearly has family money, he must. I'm sure he's made decent money for the past few years, but not enough to afford that. And all of his stuff, his suits and his briefcase and everything, looks expensive. And it's not like, shit that just looks expensive or name brand stuff. It's subtler than that, it just seems like everything he owns is so high quality."

"Fucking rich boys. I guess it isn't surprising, given how he's behaved. Like he's always gotten his way and never been told no."

"It really seems like it. Everyone always loves him, it's so annoying," you roll your eyes, thinking of every other staff member's reaction to meeting their shiny new coworker, and his easy demeanor, always saying what people want to hear. Except to you, it seemed.

"Well you can't really meet up and talk right now," Yunji says.

"No, but he said we should talk on the phone. I missed two calls from him, and he left me a message. But I can't bear to speak with him on the phone. I don't ever talk to my coworkers outside of work, no matter how close we are," you reply, shaking your head. "It just feels weird. I don't know what I'm gonna do, but I'm ignoring him for the rest of today."

"Understandable," she responds, squeezing your arm for a moment. "I should try to get some work done on my thesis, I guess, but you rest this evening. You deserve it."

As you both retire to your rooms, you sigh into your pillow. Despite the lazy day, despite the sixteen hours of sleep last night, you still feel tired. It must be mental, it's the only explanation at this point. And you know that means you should probably avoid your phone. But you reflexively check it; the anticipation brewing in your head isn't letting up.

You find two more missed calls from Yunho, and another text.

Yunho: How are we going to solve this if you keep ignoring me?

You suppose it makes you feel a little bad, a little guilty. Still, you can't be bothered to respond. You don't know why; you can't explain it. That feeling like you're not totally in control of your actions, like someone else is calling the shots, is back, and it really doesn't feel like something you can fight, or should fight. There's an eeriness about it, but it's so far in the back of your mind that you don't give it a second thought. After turning over your phone you climb into your covers, the light barely there outside as the evening approaches, the sky still covered in dark clouds and the snow still falling.

And just like that, two days pass. The snow has stayed heavy, making it unsafe to leave, the whole city quiet as few feel brave enough to venture outside. A desperate run to the grocery store calls a few, but thankfully you and Yunji have plenty of food in the pantry to last you a few days. She's taken the opportunity to really focus on her work, and you thought maybe you should, too. You never worked on grants at home, but you could bet Yunho was also taking advantage of the quiet time. You didn't really have anything better to do, yet you couldn't bring yourself to work at all, not when your head and gut were rolling with anxiety and fear and a crushing hatred of yourself. That first day avoiding Yunho had felt, well, not good, but justified. But the past two days, more missed calls and texts unanswered, you felt straight up guilty, and stupid. Not really for ignoring Yunho, as much as letting down your boss, which you knew you would. This couldn't be resolved; no matter what the two of you did you'd never get along, and it was clear that there was something in Yunho that made him unable to leave you alone. You hadn't particularly liked the last guy in his position, either, but the two of you had basically ignored each other, easily. But since his entrance to your office, Yunho seemed unable to not bother you, not leave notes, not piss you off every chance he got. And now you couldn't help but ignore him, even though you knew that doing so was fucking you both over, making it certain that you'd never return to that beloved office and your dream job.

You felt stuck. The literal fact of not being able to leave your apartment was eating you alive, making you feel scared and paranoid and vulnerable in ways you knew were illogical. Every little sound started to make you jump; you were losing it, slowly but surely coming apart at the seams. You swore you started hearing your mom's cat meowing for you, and once in the kitchen it sounded so real you spent minutes furiously searching the hall and your bedroom for her. You collapsed on the floor, waves of anxiety rolling over you as you held yourself in the fetal position, not even crying, just hyperventilating.

Yunho: You're being really immature and unfair by not responding to me. Not even giving this a chance of maybe working itself out

You hadn't responded to him in days, but something in you finally broke. It was in the way his words reflected how you felt about yourself, and the severe guilt that it brought you alighted in flames and suddenly felt like nothing but red, hot anger.

Y/n: Fuck you Yunho: Oh, so you are alive

Breathing heavy you stared at the screen, a sudden realization washed over you. You knew it was over; you'd maintained at least some level of professionalism up to this point, albeit not much, with him. Even when you fought in the office you didn't say anything personal or unnecessarily nasty. You only cursed at him under your breath, never loud enough that anyone could hear. But now you had said something nasty, in writing no less. Even if you both somehow made it back to work on Monday, he'd no doubt show your boss what you had said. And even with your long standing relationship with Mr. Kangsoo, you doubted he'd be willing to keep you on after seeing that.

So that was it. It was over. Logically you knew that you could find a new job, that this wasn't the end of your life. The new year was right around the corner, which was always a good time to find new placements. But you had studied communications and psychology specifically for this job, had dedicated years to learning everything you could about funding and mental health care and the ways your boss ran the office. Though it'd never been said directly, you had a feeling that one day you'd become his second-in-command, and maybe even take over running the place once he was ready to take a step back and retire. You loved this part of the city, loved living with your best friend here, and the commute was easy. You'd planned everything so well, yet it still was about to crumble in your hands. And with every passing minute, it felt like you were waiting for your life to implode, which made not being able to leave all the worse.

The next morning you woke to a call from your mom.

"Good morning," she answered, after your muffled and confused, hello? "Happy New Year sweetie."

"Hi mom, Happy New Year," you responded, rolling over to tuck yourself into the covers again. It had gotten bone-chillingly cold with the perpetual precipitation, and pulling the covers off in the morning felt torturous.

"Since you can't come down to see me today I thought I'd call. Are you two doing okay? Do you have enough food?"

"Yeah, we're doing fine," you say through a yawn. "We've got plenty of food, as long as this lets up in a few days."

"God, it better. I'm glad I got to see you on Christmas Eve."

"Me too."

"Are you doing okay? You sound off," she asks you, making your heart sink. She has no idea what's been going on; you've done an expert job of keeping it a secret from her, as you often do with your struggles, because you know she can't really handle it. You know she has too much to deal with on her own, and you never really feel like she gives you good advice, anyway. But with how you've been feeling mentally, hearing someone ask that has you panicking internally.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine, I just woke up is all," you lie, yawning again to punctuate your point. "I'm not really enjoying being stuck inside, I guess."

"That's not like you," your mom laughs, and you know she's shaking her head side to side the way she always does. "You used to always love when you were stuck inside, or stranded somewhere. Do you remember when you got lost at that theme park in Ocean City? When we found you at the ticket booth you were happy as can be. We thought we'd find you crying. The teenage boy who was watching you said you were quiet as can be, just sat in that little nook in total silence. You were such a funny kid." There's a mystical air to her tone telling the story, because she loves to reminisce in that way, and unfortunately you really, really don't. Because that was the time of your life when your dad was still around, and despite the years of therapy you still can't move past it all. 

"Yeah, I remember," you placate her, sighing. You wish you could travel to see her today, just to calm her nerves and make her not worry, because her worrying is the absolute last thing you want. As you stare out the window you see the sky is a bit clearer, and there don't appear to be many flakes still falling. But the snow is still thick and there's surely ice everywhere. You're not even sure if the three separate subway lines you have to take to reach her house are still running.

"Well, sweetie, the weather report said the snow's finally supposed to let up today, so maybe you can get some fresh air soon."

"That sounds good," you mutter, rolling over in bed. "I should go make some breakfast, I'm feeling really hungry. Thanks for calling, love you," you finish the call.

"Okay, love you too sweetie. Talk to you soon," she replies, before you hang up the call.

New Year's Day. You'd forgotten yesterday what day it was, and had been sort of avoiding your phone because of Yunho's texts and calls. You hadn't stayed up till midnight, hadn't welcomed the New Year in any way. You were surprised Yunji hadn't said anything, but then again neither of you really were the types to party or celebrate holidays much. You both had bad memories of them from growing up, or good memories that had turned bad once you'd matured and looked back without your naiveté. And your face and posture were probably screaming 'leave me alone,' Yunji always able to tell if you were upset. You were thankful for that, thankful that she knew how to leave you alone when you needed the space. Really, what did it matter what day it was? New Year's was like any other day of the year, it just had the honor of being first in the lineup. So why was your head spinning so much? Why couldn't you stop thinking about what your resolutions should be?

The morning was strange, even with a delicious bagel and a warm cup of Jasmine tea. It felt strange seeing the sky after it had been covered for days; it even felt strange looking out your living room window to the front yard, the snow on the street gray and muddy and pounded down by the tracks of the few brave souls who'd trekked out or driven in this weather. You saw one neighbor diligently shoveling snow off her driveway, bundled up head to toe in a giant puffy jacket and boots that looked too big for her. Her head snaps up, and you walk towards the window to see what she's seeing; a snow plow was making its way down your street, the drivers finally able to start their work today now that the worst of the storm was behind you. Even the sidewalks looked not so bad, as the clear day had allowed the sun to begin melting the thick snow, the air hot enough that it might not be too icy out there. Something in you called at you to go outside, but the second you thought about it a wave of dread hit you, and you knew you'd be too scared. It would be another day stuck in here, another day avoiding Yunho's texts and feeling so guilty, and you weren't sure if you could take it.

It had gotten to that point now. It had been so long since you felt like this, like you'd rather die than live another moment. Now, just like the first time, you felt so ridiculous and shameful for feeling that way, looking around to see the physical evidence of your privileged life. Your safe and cozy apartment, the food filling the fridge, the brand new washing machine you'd both bought yourselves as a Christmas gift. How could this be so awful? You had all sorts of entertainment, anything you could need to keep you busy while you waited for these snow days to end. You could be updating your resume, starting the search for a new job. You could be calling Yunho back, and trying to find a way through your conflict. You could be doing yoga, meditating, making soup from scratch, reading, writing, learning a new language...

It all sounded horrible. Your mind was collapsing on you, but this time you're not a kid, this time you don't have a great excuse. You'd let some petty drama taint your every waking moment, and you didn't have anyone to blame but yourself. You were too scared to do the right thing, you could see that now, that back when this conflict had started you'd assumed your boss and everyone else would side with you, just because they already knew you. You'd let Yunho get under your skin, to the point that every word he uttered made you angry, letting him in so deep that there was no way out. Not now. You knew this wouldn't be resolved, because you couldn't do it; you could never admit these things to him that you'd just admitted to yourself. You could never apologize, never acknowledge that you played a part. You'd sat yourself staunchly in a position, the innocent one who'd been wronged time and time again by the aggressor, and stepping down from that pedestal would hurt you more than you thought you could bear.

It was the shame of fucking up. Of not being perfect. A conversation from therapy, from almost ten years ago, ricocheted to the front of your mind. 'You're quite a perfectionist, y/n. Do you realize that? It makes you avoid doing certain things, even if you know they're the right thing to do.' You can still see your old therapist's face, her glasses near the tip of her nose as she eyed you. How could you still be right where your fourteen year old self was? You looked like her too, your skin burning with embarrassment at how you hadn't realized that yourself. It felt humiliating to have to be told, because that in and of itself proved you were imperfect. That you weren't totally and completely self aware. The biggest shame you carried was knowing that despite how hard you tried, you never were very good at knowing yourself. 

You laid face down on your bedroom floor. You didn't have the energy or motivation for anything else. You knew clinically speaking, this looked like the start of a depressive episode. But you hadn't had one in years now and were out of practice. What were you supposed to do now? All that felt okay was sinking more into your head, letting the darkness envelop your mind and take you on a ride through your worst memories, your heart racing despite your complete lack of physical exertion.

By early afternoon you'd had enough of that horrifying roller coaster. When you sat up your neck ached, your body screaming at you to never collapse in that position again. You felt jittery, restless, but nothing at home sounded appealing still, not in the slightest. Your eyes catch on your winter boots in the corner of your room, too big to fit on the shoe rack by the front door. And suddenly your mind is made up in less than a second. It was time to go for a walk, to get out of the house. Maybe the cold air would clear your mind.

"Hey, I'm gonna go grab some snacks at Smith's, do you need anything?" you call through Yunji's bedroom door.

"You're going out in this weather?" she asks, opening it.

"The snow let up a lot today, and I'm running low. And I'm feeling too cooped up. It's only five blocks, I'm sure I'll be fine."

"Ok, well, I don't think I need anything. I stocked up on Pocky last time we were there. Are we almost out of toilet paper or paper towels?" she asks.

"No, I just checked," you respond.

"Okay. Be careful," she says, smiling.

"I will, I promise," you say before walking toward the front closet, grabbing your big winter coat and zipping it up.

The outside air is a shock as it greets your face, making your cheeks turn pink almost instantly. The world is still bright, the sun shining the warmest it will all day, but you can see darker clouds off in the distance. You hope they aren't moving too fast; there is only a slight breeze in the air, and mostly it's just so quiet, even with a second snow plow heading down your street. It does feel relieving, a least a little, to finally be outside, and a part of you feels proud for actually going out, given how scared you were this morning. You feel like you're maybe proving to yourself that you aren't such a wuss, that you aren't so prone to avoiding things that one day it'll ruin your life. You walk briskly, your nerves buzzing as your heart rate rises to keep you warm.

It feels nice to be buying your favorite snacks, and you're able to get lost in the normalcy of it for a few minutes. The store is almost empty, so you try making light conversation with the one cashier working, his long hair covered in a beanie. Strolling back outside you're met with the chilly air again, a gust of wind nearly knocking you off your feet as you make your way through the small, empty parking lot. You could have sworn you were only in there for maybe ten or fifteen minutes, but the sky looks almost completely different now, those dark clouds having descended on your area. You start your way back up the hill, bracing yourself against the growing winds, when the sky lets out a low rumble that shakes you to your bones. Suddenly it's raining, the air warm enough to turn the snow into sleet, and it's soaking your face and your hat and your gloves faster than you can believe. The paper bag holding your snacks is disintegrating in your hand, and you shove it under your coat to try to protect it, the cold bag on your stomach making you shiver.

"Fuck, this was a bad idea," you mutter to yourself, shakily making your way finally into your neighborhood, crossing the street that separates the houses from the row of commercial buildings. Your whole body is shaking, your head turned to the ground as you try to avoid getting sleet in your eyes and try to avoid falling. You're moving much slower than you were on your way to the store, carefully planting your feet one in front of the other as you hold your snacks against your stomach. Your brain feels fuzzy, the wind whipping past your ears, and all you can manage to think is, 'just make it home, just make it home.' It's only about three more blocks, you should be able to make it just fine, if you just keep putting one foot in front of the other, if you just keep going, keep goin-

Suddenly someone has grabbed you, your body thrown up like a rag doll, your upper half thrown over their shoulder. You let out a guttural scream, the sound hoarse and weak and getting lost in the storm. You're furiously flailing your legs, wiping the water from your eyes to try to get a look at anything, your lungs heaving as you scream again, this time, "Let me go!!"

The grip on your legs only tightens after your outburst, and then you're hearing a door whooshing open, warmer air greeting you as you enter some house, your eyes able to make out hardwood floors and the large boots of whoever's holding you hostage. You're breathing ragged, trying to get ahold of yourself and figure out where the hell you are, and when you catch a glimpse into the front closet of this house you see those navy blue shoes, with that very unique toe box...

Part 2

Thank you sm for reading! <3

[lacomandante]

That Patrick O' Brian quote about the Sharpe series is so funny bc it's true and unfortunately Tom Clegg (Sharpe series director) was the same exact way. Would cry tears of joy watching his battle scenes behind the camera but when it came to interpersonal scenes that fleshed out relationships and characters he didn't give two shits.....alas

[heavenbarnes]

Do not go gentle

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Warnings/Contains: illusions to reader suffering "some" attack earlier, nightmares, reader and hotch are goofy idiots, inappropriate boss/employee relationship, unprotected pinv sex, dirty talk, pulling out, splash the back, mentions of m!masturbation, swearing, blasphemy, hotch has a size kink if you squint.

Word Count: 4.7k

Can you believe it? I've finally posted Hotch smut? I recently picked CM back up again and turns out he's still irresistible. Enjoy this, I did.

You'd only been back a week, after having two off, and Hotch already wanted to see you in his office.

This normally wasn't a cause for concern, usually you actually liked seeing Hotch in his office. Usually because it was for praise, he'd remark good work you'd done or feed you back something good he'd heard about you from another department.

It was also in that low, calm voice and he'd always have a hint of a smile working it's way to the surface.

But this time it'd be different.

You'd been off for two weeks and everyone was worried it wasn't enough. You'd been, quite literally, through hell and back and nobody wanted to push you too hard to get back into the field.

But you'd reassured Strauss, reassured everyone, that this was the best thing for you. You'd been going stir crazy on your couch in your little apartment, watching everything the TV had on offer.

You needed to get back into things, you needed to get back to helping people.

So you made the slow ascent up to Hotch's office and quietly knocked on the door, feeling it slowly swing open against your hand. He looked up from his desk, eyes connecting with yours and his brow raising slightly.

"You wanted to see me, sir?

He waved you in with his hand, gesturing towards the chair in front of his desk. You took a seat, doing your best to relax back into things and not let him know how nervous this had made you.

“I just wanted to see how you’re doing?”

You smiled, only gently with your gaze picking out flaws in the carpet of Hotch’s office. Nodding slightly, you lifted your head to lock eyes with him.

“Good, actually,” That was honest but you could tell he was a little hesitant to accept it. “I’m glad to be back with everyone and making some difference.”

“And how are you sleeping?” Clear and level headed as ever.

You hesitated, it was only a second but there was no getting past him. You knew you had to be honest now.

“Not well, that's only when I finally get to sleep, and when I do I’m right back there again.”

Hotch’s expression was as hard to read as ever but you could see a hint of sympathy? Sadness? Concern?

“And are you seeing a therapist?”

“I am! She’s great, she says the best way through it is to keep living until I have enough good memories to replace those ones.”

You thought there may have been a hint of a smile on his face but it was gone as quick as you saw it.

“If there is anything I can do to help you, just ask- or call.”

You gave him a smile, an earnest one and you nodded as you spoke. “I will, thank you, Sir.”

That went better than you expected. He didn't want to recall you back to the office for desk work, he was just checking in. You found yourself back to feeling how you normally did when you left his office.

Not really wanting to go.

-

Your apartment was dead quiet, you couldn't even hear the usual hum of your fridge as you left the bathroom. Your home was darker than you were used to, the moonlight struggling to get through the windows.

As you stepped into the kitchen, you felt the unmistakable air of company. Something was telling you that you weren't alone in the darkness. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as your fingers reached for the light switch.

So close, you were so close when you suddenly felt a strong grasp wrap around your wrist-

Awakening with a scream, you felt your heart fight it's way out of your chest. Your neighbours would probably be leaving another not-so-passive note in your mailbox about this.

Sitting up on the couch, you found your lights still on and your TV still playing some mindless background noise. Another nightmare taking your sleep right from you when you needed it most.

Your cellphone lay on your coffee table in front of you, black screen staring back at you. Mulling it over in your head, you weighed up your options.

On one hand, he quite literally said to call if you needed him. But on the other, he probably just said it as a courtesy, something everyone says.

Either way, before you could really talk yourself out of it- you were dialing Hotch’s number and pressing your phone to your ear.

Zoning out a little at the dial tone, you were quickly snapped back by the sound of his voicemail service, a robotic voice asking you to leave him a message.

It all happened too quickly, your lips were firing off before you could stop yourself.

“Ah- oh God- uh sorry, I’m sorry this is- oh it’s actually me by the way. I’m sorry I called it’s just- I uh had a nightmare. That sounds really lame now that I’m saying this and I really shouldn’t have called- uh I realise now you didn’t pick up because you’ve got a life or you're sleeping- but I'm not and I uh- shit-sorry- Sir, this might be a record for the world’s most pathetic voicemail so maybe take this to a museum- or to a lab to have me tested because what the hell is this- anyway- shit- sorry again and enjoy your night- see you at work tomorrow morning, please- uh please don’t mention this or I will have to go into hiding. Anyways- good night- sorry.”

Hanging up after the message, you threw your phone at the couch and watched it bounce off the cushions and onto the rug. Stuffing your palms into your eyes you let out a pained groan.

“Please throw your phone into the ocean!” You begged, getting up from the couch. “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?”

You had almost forgotten the cringiest voicemail known to man. With how focused you were on perfecting this terrible boxed mac and cheese, your mind was nearly elsewhere.

Just as you’d managed to find a bit of peace, a knock at your front door made you jump out of your skin. Doing your best to calm yourself down, you brought your bowl of macaroni with you to the front door to investigate.

One eye to the peep hole, the minute you saw the person on the other side- your heart dropped. Slowly twisting the lock, you pulled the door back to reveal one Aaron Hotchner.

A very cozy looking Aaron Hotchner.

“Sir-“

“I got your message, you had another nightmare?”

Your words got trapped up in your throat before you could get them out. “Uh yeah.”

“What about? Are you okay”

Clearing your throat, you did your best to focus your gaze on him, remind yourself that you were here- safe in your apartment and not back there.

“Same old, I’m alone in the dark and then suddenly- he’s there.”

There was that expression on Hotch’s face again, this time you were sure it was concern, genuine concern. It was unmistakable.

“I’m sorry this keeps happening to you.”

Just as you were about to brush it off, pretend like it wasn’t driving you crazy, you could see a faint smile appearing as he kept speaking.

“I couldn’t find a museum that'd accept your voicemail but I did find a 24 hour convenience store with ice cream.”

He lifted the bag in his right hand and you could faintly see the tub through the plastic. “Is that cookies? That’s my-“

“Your favourite, yeah it is- do you mind sharing?”

You felt a heat rise in your cheeks as you nodded, quickly realising you’d been having this whole conversation in the hallway.

“Oh yeah, come in- get out of my hallway would you?”

Hotch laughed, quietly, but he still laughed as he walked in. He went straight to the kitchen as you hovered by the couch.

“I can even share my gross looking boxed mac and cheese if you ask nicely.”

That got the rest of the laugh out of him, smiling over his shoulder as he made himself at home in your kitchen. Trying to give yourself something to do, you picked up the TV remote.

“Sorry, the TV’s just been on as background noise but we could watch a movie- only if you want- I don’t even know how long you-“

Thankfully, Hotch cut you off again. “I’d love to watch a movie, as long as it isn’t a cartoon, with dinosaurs or superheroes.”

As he rounded the couch and passed you a bowl of ice cream, you looked up at him with an incredulous expression on your face.

“I literally just rented ‘cartoon dinosaur superheroes’, what the hell?"

Your face broke out in a grin before you could even finish your dumb joke and it had an instant effect on Hotch.

“Yeah well, I preferred the TV series- it went into much more detail.”

Spoon in your mouth, you shot a look at your usually-very-serious boss. You weren’t used to seeing this many smiles- let alone hearing this many jokes from the man.

“Which one was your favourite? The green one?” You pushed the corny little joke a little further.

He glanced back in your direction as he lifted his own spoon to his lips. “I liked the one that put out fires.”

Immediately a grin broke out across your face as you couldn't contain your giggles. You quieted down to a hum as you nodded at his quip. “There totally would be one that put out fires.”

Leaning back into your couch, you picked up your feet to lean them on your coffee table.

“You can put your feet up by the way, I don’t mind.”

As quickly as you said it, Hotch was reaching out a long arm to wave at your legs. “I do, get your feet off the table.”

Looking at him in (slight) faux-shock, you shook your head as he did his best to fight off an impending chuckle.

“Excuse me? This is my house!”

Hotch’s smile only grew. “Hardly a house, it’s a living room with a bed in the back of it.”

Stunned expression painted across your face, a series of unintelligible noises fell past your lips as it was your turn to try not to laugh.

“Alright then, next time I have a trauma induced nightmare then I’ll be coming to your house.”

“Perfect, I’ll have the boxed macaroni cheese and dinosaurs.”

“Great, and I’ll pick apart every stylistic choice you’ve ever made in.”

Hotch finished off another spoonful of ice cream as he shrugged. “I think you’ll find I’m a very skilled interior decorator.”

You cocked your head towards him, eyes narrowed as you played on the bit. “Suuuurely not?”

“I am, and don’t call me Shirley.”

Eyes wide in excitement as he said the words, you couldn’t believe Aaron Hotchner was a certified funny-guy. Your stoic boss, your always knowing what to say, what to do, boss. You quickly reached for the TV remote off the table as the next thought struck you.

“That’s the one, I wonder if they're streaming Airplane!”

It wasn’t like you even lasted the first 20 minutes before you fell asleep. You felt so warm, so cozy, so at peace that you hadn’t even realised you were drifting off until you did.

Hotch didn’t mind either, just happy to see you finally sleeping. His right arm stayed firmly around your side as your cheek and hand laid against his chest, snoring only quietly.

He smiled from above you, tilting his neck just enough to gently rest his chin against the top of your head.

That night you dreamed, for the first time in weeks. You were in your apartment, but the lights were shining and the moon had cast a glow over the room. You could tell you weren’t alone, you felt the company, but you couldn't find it to be scared.

Somebody else was in your apartment and he remembered your favourite ice cream.

-

As you rushed through the door of the conference room, all eyes switched from the round table fell on you. Within an instant, heat was rising up your cheeks.

“Nice of you to join us.” Morgan teased as you slipped into a seat next to Spencer.

“Sorry,” You mumbled, scrambling to grab some of the files in front of you. “Slept in.”

A simple sentence quieted everyone back down as expressions softened across all of them.

“Slept?” JJ asked quietly, full attention on you. “You’re sleeping again?”

A smile cracked at the corner of your lips, nodding gently as you tried to keep your head down. “Yeah, first time in weeks last night.”

Everyone let you off the hook after that, it was all back to work and start filing the reports from the last case. As you all shuffled out to head back to your desks, you heard a voice behind you call your name.

Leaving just you and Hotch in the room, you felt that same heat creep right back up your neck. You stepped over towards him, only bringing yourself to meet his eyes once you were right in front of him.

“Sir, listen, about last night-“

“I’m sorry,” He stopped your babbling before you could even start. “I was out of line.”

Not what you were expecting. This morning had been hazy, Hotch slipping out with a sore neck from sleeping upright. You not even waking as he left.

But this was still-

“I shouldn’t have let myself get as close as I did,” He continued, his tone back to as professional as always. “It won’t happen again.”

“It won’t?”

Hotch couldn’t bare the look on your face. Eyes dropping in confusion and bottom lip daring to wobble. He had to steel himself, he had to walk out of that room before he did something that'd cost his career.

-

He'd completely closed down any chance for the two of you. You'd sort-of-kind-of resigned yourself to the fact it was never going to happen, but having it come crashing down right in front of you hurt more than you'd expected.

You didn't realise that you'd designated a space to him in the centre of your chest until you felt it break. Thinking back on it now, it will completely foolish to think your boss would ever dare to pursue anything with you.

But there was last night.

You'd woken briefly, just the once, and you'd felt his arm around your waist. You'd heard the beat of his heart just under your ear. You could've sworn you'd felt him press his lips against the top of your head.

That was all said and done now. If you'd known it was your only chance, you probably would've held onto it for just a little longer. You thought a hot shower after a long day would help to dissipate your feelings, but you still felt it weighing heavy on your mind.

Shuffling to the kitchen, you decided there was no other choice but to get on with things. What'd your therapist said? Keep moving forward until you have more good memories to replace the other ones?

Besides, you'd gotten on just fine before, without him. There was no reason for this to change anything.

Even after you knew how it felt to fall asleep beside him.

Swinging open the box freezer, you scanned the shelf for something to eat before your eyes fell on the scene of the crime. Last night's ice cream stared back at you with cruel intent.

You decided you'd make a spectacle of it, retrieving it from the freezer to stab a spoon right through the middle of it. The first mouthful stung, the rest was just...ice cream.

Dragging your feet towards the couch, you were nearly close enough to collapse into comfort when a knock at the door sent a fright through you that you'd never get used to. Cautiously, you pressed your eye back to the peep hole and screwed up your face in confusion.

"Sir?" You asked as the door swung open, finding Hotch back in that same place on your doorstep.

"Listen, I'm sorry-"

It was your turn to cut him off. "You really don't have to be. Like you said, it shouldn't have happened."

You'd been hesitant to look him in the eye as you spoke, roaming the spotted ceiling of your apartment hall instead. But as you shifted to catch his eyes, you found him- preocupied.

Hotch's eyes trailed further down, serious expression fixed to his features as his eyes moved to your legs. Only when you went to follow his gaze did you realise.

You'd answered the door fresh out the shower. Skin still a little damp, only in a t-shirt and a thin pair of panties.

You were standing in front of your boss in next to nothing.

And he looked like he wanted to eat you whole (he did).

He managed to clear his throat, to tear his eyes off your body and back to your face. Mustering up the courage, tensing his fists and relaxing his shoulders, he began speaking before he could think.

"I am sorry and I need to say it. I overstepped a boundary here and I put my own feelings for you over everything else and I shouldn't have. I'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable-"

"Hotch-"

"I thought I was fine with keeping this in my head and I never wanted to-"

"Hotch-"

"But I just need to tell you that this wont change anything with-"

"Sir."

Finally, your interjection managed to cut through and he stopped himself. "Hotch, you've never asked me what I actually want."

His features softened a tiny amount, his fists unfurling as he willed himself to relax the rest of himself. "What do you want?"

Taking a long stride towards him, you found yourself nearly chest to chest with the man. Your hand gently ran his tie through your fingers, twisting a little to grasp it for leverage.

"You."

Hotch sucked in a deep breath, his head tilted towards you but his eyes closed. "Please don't say that."

You looked up at him from under your lashes, finding him slowly opening his eyes to watch you move even closer to him.

"Got no reason to lie to you, sir."

You heard his breath catch in his throat as Hotch moved his hands, until they were just and only resting on your hips. You felt the heat radiating off his large palms, closing in until they spanned across your lower back.

"I really shouldn't do this." His voice was a hush, he was still trying to talk himself out.

Not like you were going to let him.

"Then let me."

Closing the space between the two you, your lips pressed against the hard line of his until he opened up for you. You lead things just long enough for him to get comfortable, falling into motion and his tongue pushing forward into your mouth.

His hands tightened, gripping onto your waist like he might lose you if he let you go. Walking you back into your apartment, he blindly kicked his leg back to shut the door. Surging forward, he had the backs of your thighs against the arm of the couch.

Pulling back to take a look at you, his eyes moved to you swollen lips. His thumb came up to brush against your lower lip, gently gripping it between his fingers.

"Pretty, pretty girl," He sighed, you could feel his thigh slotting between your legs. "Such a good girl."

You couldn't stop it, the heady little moan that fell from your mouth at his words. Mixed with the soft feeling of his suit pants pressing to your core, undoubtedly you were leaving some kind of mess on the expensive trousers.

Hotch flexed his thigh, enjoying the feeling of you grinding yourself against his leg like a desperate slut. He watched as you tipped your head back, exposing the column of your throat to him.

Ducking his head, he pressed his lips in a line down your neck and biting gently at the join of your shoulder. "Get up on the couch."

His voice was a rumble in his chest, but there was a command in there that had you moving without being told twice. You went to sit down on it, but Hotch caught you and spun you slightly till you were falling onto the cushions on your knees.

Arms slung over the back of the couch and ass pointed out, you looked back over your shoulders with hazy eyes. Hotch slipped his suit jacket off, throwing it across a chair as he started to roll up his sleeves.

It was so simple, such an easy move but it had an effect on you like nothing else. His strong arms came into view and the veins on his hands flexed as he rolled the fabric. You could feel the damp spot growing on your panties.

This was a different Hotch than the one that stayed over the other night. This was closer to the one that sat behind his desk, stoic and unshakeable. Part of you knew the desperation that was hiding behind the stern look on his face.

You two really had one shot at this. The voice in the back of your head was telling you to enjoy this, it'd never happen again.

Snapping you from your thoughts, you felt two long fingers run up the length of your cunt. Even through the thin fabric of your underwear, you could feel his rough grasp as he gently began to rub at your clit.

Your head lolled forward, a gasp sounding from your chest as you backed your hips towards his touch. As he slid your panties to the side, fingers now running right through your wetness, you could hear the sound of him drawing down his fly.

"I've tried so hard- from the moment I met you-" The words fell from his lips, his knee coming up on the couch to get closer. "I've thought about this moment every night."

Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head, feeling his firm chest press to your back as his words spurred you on. You could picture it in your mind, your boss in the shower, alone in his bed- his hand fisting at his cock as he thought of you.

Pretty you, sweet and kind you. Always the first to do what he says, to look at him with those glassy eyes and say "yes, sir." To him, this was inevitable.

It was only ever a matter of time.

Swiping up the slick from between your legs, you looked back quickly to see him running it across the head of his cock. Your jaw dropped slightly, seeing the size of him as he dragged his hand down the length of it.

"Fuck- that's big."

You didn't even mean to say it out loud. Hotch chuckled as your words, his brows raising slightly as he did.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," He cooed, lining himself up with your entrance. "We'll make it fit."

Your eyes squeezed shut and a drawn out, frankly pornographic, moan fell out. Hotch groaned deep in his chest as he sunk into you, feeling the tight grip of your soaking cunt.

Feeling the press of his lips on your shoulder blade, he made it in fully before he stilled. He was giving you a moment, letting you catch your breath despite the ever-present need to absolutely wreck you.

Reaching back, you franticly tapped at his hip. Quiet pleas of "move, please move" filling the space around you. He was kind, he gave you exactly what you needed as he began to roll his hips into yours.

One of his hands firmly held your hip, the other ran underneath your t-shirt so he could grip at your chest. He cupped one of your breasts, rolling it round in his large palm as he groaned into the crook of your neck.

"God- you feel so good, sweetheart."

You whimpered for him, a pathetic whine sounding from you as you bucked your hips back against him. The hand on your hip began to slip forward, fingers coming around to rub against your clit.

From the speed in which he was fucking into you, the frantic movements of his fingers, the clip of his breath- he was trying hard to hold on. He was doing whatever he could to keep his cool but he was finding it increasingly difficult.

The prettiest girl he'd ever laid his eyes on, the subject of all his inappropriate desires was knelt in front of him. You were somehow tighter than he'd dreamed, somehow sounded sweeter than he'd imagined.

You were calling out his name, chants of "Aaron, fuck, Aaron-" that were no doubt slinking through the thin walls of this apartment and keeping the neighbours up.

He didn't care, he'd get you to tell the whole fucking city if he could. When you felt this good, when you looked this pretty for him? He'd throw his whole career to the fucking wind if it meant he got to do this whenever he wanted.

Maybe- maybe not that far. But Hotch wasn't really in the position to be thinking logically right now. Not when you were turning back over your shoulder to capture his lips, moaning straight down his throat as he continued to sink his hips into you.

"Fuck- you're so deep, sir."

Hotch could've come right then, there was no way he could keep it together when you were saying it like that. He knew good and well that this is why this was never meant to happen.

How was he meant to go back to work and deal with you calling him that, when he's heard just how good it could sound?

He sped up his fingers, messy circles rubbing at your clit as your whole body began to tense. He felt your back arching, pushing back into his chest as you cried out.

"God- I'm gonna'- Aaron- I'm gonna' cum-" Was all you could manage before you clenched around him.

Suddenly, your vice grip released and you were falling limp against the couch with a whimper. Hotch fucked you through it, feeling the shocks wracking your body as he drew out your orgasm as long as he could.

Hotch watched over you, seeing the blissed out expression on your face as you came for him. He looked down to see the way your cunt fluttered around him, a wet mess left on the shaft of his cock.

Taking mental note, he knew that he'd never be able to forget this. His one chance to have you like this, to hold you and feel you gripped around him. The sight of you took over him, his hips stuttering as he gripped hard on your hips.

You opened your eyes just in time to see his head tipped back, strong arms and chest straining against his dress shirt. Hotch's lips parted as a quiet moan of your name ripped from his chest.

Quickly, he slipped himself out as he stroked himself over your ass. Long fingers pulled your panties down around your thighs as hot ropes of cum painted your lower back and behind. Your eyes were growing hazier but you kept them open to watch as he did it.

You were slumped over the back of the couch, high dissipating through your body as you heard him tuck himself back into his trousers. You could hear him moving away, but soon he returned with a warm cloth against your back.

Slipping your panties back into place, he turned you around gently and settled you into his side. Right back where things had started, your sleepy body falling into him.

You both knew it, that this would be the last time. This would never go anywhere else. But there was part of you that'd become content with that, getting used to the strong beat of his heart beside your ear.

Feeling a strong hand brush against your face, this time you were sure of it. His lips pressed softly against the top of your head as you began to drift off asleep.

You knew he'd been gone again when you woke up, you'd both show up to work like all of this hadn't happened. But that was okay, you felt the sleep overtaking you- a feeling that you'd missed.

You slept absolutely soundly, for the second time in weeks.

[writing0305]

All he needed.

Pairing: Homelander x F!Reader.

Summary: After two years of being together, you dissapeared from Homelander's life. Vought had told him you killed yourself but one file left on his desk by someone unknown, told him a different story. And when he sought you out, he was surprised to see you alive and well, with an eight month old son, blonde hair and blue eyes, just like his father.

Warnings: Heavy swearing. Blood and murder. Mentioning of smut. Mention of suicide

You were with Homelander for only a short two years. But it was the best fucking two years of both your and his life. You adored Homelander before you even started working for Vought. You always offered him kind smiles when you saw him. And he could hear the way your heart skipped a beat when he was near.  You were taken with him from the start and he was taken with how much you adored him, how much you loved him.

At first, Homelander would only watch you through the walls of your office. He could watch you for hours, but honestly, you never did anything exciting at work. So then he began watching you at home. He watched through your walls as you danced around in nothing but a shirt and panties while making dinner. He watched you dress, watched you bath, watched you whenever you pleasured yourself, and even watched you sleep.

He couldn’t get enough of it. Of you. And soon he was forcing his way into your life. He forced Stillwell to make you his personal assistant and you were all too happy for the job. He made sure you had to follow him around the whole day, except when he was out fighting crime. He made them move your office next to his own so that he could comfortably watch you through the wall.

And then one day he showed up at your apartment. He invited himself in, made friendly talk and even stayed for dinner. Being with him for your whole workday, made you two close, and then suddenly he was at your apartment every day after work. You got yourself into the habit of cooking for two and always having fresh milk in your fridge. He seemed to quite enjoy the beverage.

One night you admitted to having a crush on him when you were younger and not before long you were laying naked across the bed, being fucked senseless by the supe. Your relationship developed fast and strong after that. Homelander moved you into his penthouse in the Vought building, so you’d truly be around him nearly 24/7. This created a co-dependency for you.

To Homelander, it truly seemed like you enjoyed his company. You didn’t mind having him around all the time. You didn’t mind listening to him rant. You always praised him and agreed with him on everything. You were truly just perfect.

And then you just had to go and fucking kill yourself.

When the cops found your burned car, there was barely anything left to identify you with. That’s what Vought told Homelander. It was believed to be suicide because of the cans of gasoline that were found not so far from your car.

For a whole year and five months, Homelander mourned you. He was confused, heartbroken and angry. He didn’t understand why you had to leave him. Was he not good enough? Were you not happy? He gave you fucking everything and you just ripped his dead and cold heart right out of his chest.

That’s until one faithful day when things changed. He stepped into his office, finding a brown file on his desk. He sighed in irritation, thinking Ashley had dropped it off. He wasn’t even going to bother with it until he saw the red stamp on the file. ‘Highly confidential.���

His eyebrows furrowed and more irritation filled him. Was Ashely that fucking incompetent to leave a highly confidential file on his desk. He sat down and opened the file, eyebrows furrowing when he was met with your gaze. The photo pinned to the inside was not one he had ever seen before. Your hair was shorter than it was when you were still alive.

His eyes scanned over the file, reading only a few words that stuck out to him.  Two simple words struck something inside him. ‘ Witness protection.’ He read it over and over. Nowhere did it say why you were in witness protection, but it gave the exact date you entered the program through Vought. Exactly seventeen months ago.

He was raging by the time he reached Stillwell, who happened to have her infant son in the office with her. He demanded to know why they lied to him, where you were, and why you left. At first, she was reluctant to speak, but with one flick of his red eyes at her son and she began speaking. She told him where you were, but spun a story that you were scared of him and begged her to help you get away.

He didn’t buy it but soon he’d get his answers. Within minutes, he was in front of a cabin, tucked away far away in the middle of the woods. He stared at the house, noting the zinc inside the woods that obstructed his vision.

Inside, you were walking barefoot through the house, still in your pajamas. Your blond-haired blue-eyed  baby was in your arms, dressed in a blue onesie, his blue blanket in one hand and his dark red pacifier between his lips.

“Alright buddy, let’s get breakfast in that belly.” You coeed to Noah and the eight-month-old registered the word ‘food’, and an excited spark slipped into his blue eyes. You carefully placed him in his highchair and he grabbed for your shirt. “You can have milk after you’ve eaten.” You said you pulled his hands off your shirt before walking around the kitchen, serving him a bowl of yogurt with mashed banana.

You smiled at the baby when he grew even more excited when you brought the food over to him. You only got into feeding him a few bites before your front door was slammed open so hard that it ripped from the hinges and fell with a thud to the floor.

A gasp slipped from your lips at the sound and your eyes widened. Noah began wailing and you shushed him softly as you picked him, cradling his head against your chest. Your heart beated painfully in your chest as you heard the slow thuds of footsteps approaching down your hallway.

There was no back exit through your kitchen. There was only one way in and out, and that was through the same hallway the footsteps were approaching from. You slowly backed up as the footsteps grew closer, but you froze in your steps when a familiar tall and blonde supe stepped into your kitchen.

Your chest clenched at the familiar face blankly staring back at you. ”John?” You whispered as your eyebrows furrowed, confusion filling you just as much as it filled him. His gaze darted down to the baby in your arms, and his eyebrows knitted together. “Oh my God…” You let out a soft sigh, a relieved sigh. “You found me.” You said softly as the smallest smile tugged at your lips and tears filled your eyes.

“Y/n…” He whispered as he continued to stare at you with furrowed eyebrows. Stillwell’s story and your reaction to his presence didn’t match up.  “I…I don’t understand.” He muttered softly as his eyebrows furrowed even more. His gaze darted towards Noah when the baby sniffed softly, his blue eyes still full of tears. “Whose that?” He asked as he pointed at the baby.

“Noah.” You replied with a soft smile as you glanced down at your son, wiping his tear-stained cheeks. “Our son.” You informed Homelander as your gaze returned to him.

His eyes slightly widened as his gaze shot towards you. He was silent for a long while as he just stared at you. His head cocked to the side and he opened and closed his mouth for a second, unsure of what the fuck to say. He was silent for another second again. “Our…our son?” He repeated softly as his eyebrows furrowed.

You slowly nodded your head as your gaze diverted down to the floor, tears pooling in your eyes. “I’m sorry.” You whispered as you shook your head, your gaze returning to him. You loved Homelander with all your heart, but at that moment, you felt scared of him. Scared of his reaction.

“We have a son?” He repeated as he raised his eyebrows, slowly and hesitantly taking a small step towards you, his gaze darting down to Noah. “I have a son?” He whispered.

“Yeah.” You replied softly as you nodded your head and slowly approached him. When you stood toe to toe, Homelander hesitantly reached out and to the baby from your arms. He cradled Noah in his arms, staring down at the baby who was a mirrored image of him. The perfect creation of him. “I’m sorry.” You repeated as you lowered your gaze, wiping the tears from your eyes.

Homelander’s gaze returned to you. He silently stared at you for a long time, listening to your heartbeat. It didn’t sound like the heartbeat of a woman so scared she had to fake her death to get away. It sounded like the heartbeat of a woman broken.

“They told me you were dead…and then they told me you ran away because you were scared of me.” He informed you, eyeing your face closely to see your reaction. Homelander was so deeply hurt by everything he had found out in the past few hours. He didn’t know who or what to believe.

You looked shocked at this, your eyebrows furrowing and your lips parting as your gaze darted towards him. “They told you that?” You asked softly as your gaze darted around, slowly shaking your head in denial.

“Why did you leave?” he asked, and you could hear a hint of anger slip into his voice. Anger towards you. Because for what fucking possible reason could you have left him for. “Why did you leave with my son?” He asked as his eyebrows furrowed, his gaze darting down to Noah.

You sighed softly, sitting down at the kitchen island, running a hand through your hair. “I was going to tell you I was pregnant when I found out.” you began speaking. “Somehow Vought found out and found me before I could get to you. They didn’t want you to know because they were scared your priorities wouldn’t be them anymore.” You explained as you turned your head to look over at him. “They gave me three options. They kill me before I get the chance to tell you. They keep me locked up until I give birth and take the baby, raising him like you were, and threatened to kill me if I told you. Or I leave, live in isolation with my baby.” You informed him and his lips twitched into a snarl as his grip gently grew tighter on Noah. “I know how much you suffered…I couldn’t do that to him.” You said softly with a shake of your head as you glanced at Noah.

“Vought…Vought made you do this?” He questioned softly, his voice a low growl and his eyes briefly flicking red as his gaze diverted away from both you and Noah.

You nodded your head and he inhaled sharply. “I’m sorry.” You whispered as you got up to your feet and slowly approached him, gently placing a hand on his muscular bicep and he slightly relaxed underneath your touch. You didn’t leave because you were scared of him. He just knew that was fucking bullshit.  “I wanted to tell you, I wanted you to be part of it, of everything, my pregnancy, the birth, his life. All of it.” You whispered as your gaze turned to Noah and you ran a hand through his blonde hair. He was quite peaceful in his father’s arms.

“They said…they said you left because you were scared of me,” Homelander muttered in a low voice, and you could still hear the hint of anger. But his anger wasn’t directed at you anymore. Now it was directed at Vaught and every fucked who lied to him. “They said you wanted them to fake your death.”

“No.” You immediately denied it with a shake of your head as you reached out to cup his cheek in one hand. “I loved you…I still love you.” You whispered as he leaned into your touch. You sighed softly and your gaze flicked towards Noah for a brief second again. “I tried to take him and leave when he was a few weeks old, to go and find you.” You inform Homelander in a soft voice. “So many men with guns showed up. They didn’t point their guns at me to get me to come back, they pointed their guns at him.”

Homelander’s lips twitched into a snarl again as he thought of his son being put in danger. He didn’t care if the kid had powers or not, he fucking despised the thought of anyone even thinking of hurting his son. First, they wanted to fucking take him away from his mother, raise him in a fucking lab, then they DID take him away from his father and pointed guns at him. Someone was going to fucking die today.

“Who knew?” He asked in a low voice. You looked at him hesitantly. His voice was trembling with anger and his blue eyes flicked red again, like a broek light flicking on and off, constantly. It was like he had no control, or he was dangerously close to losing it.

You breathed deeply, hesitant to tell him. You knew he was close with Stillwell because he had her pressed nice and firmly underneath his thumb. “Stillwell.” You whispered and he inhaled sharply again. “She gave the orders, made the threats.” You informed him and Noah was immediately shoved into your arms. “John?” You muttered in confusion as he spun on his heel and stormed out of the kitchen. You hastily followed after him as he stormed out through the broken door and flew off. “John!?”

You let out a soft sigh as he disappeared into the sky. You felt confused, wondering where he was heading. Surely he wouldn’t kill Stillwell. Were you and a kid he’d just met a few minutes ago truly more important to him than a woman he’d worked with for years, a woman who gave him whatever he wanted and always had his back?

You waited there by the broken front door for a long time before you went back into the kitchen, calling the men who patrolled around the woods like guards, keeping you and Noah in like caged animals, but no one answered. You were supposed to always call them if you needed something but after five missed calls you figured you'd have to fix the door yourself.

You finished feeding your son and got him dressed in a saige colored green shirt and brown overalls before you dressed yourself in a plain blue t-shirt and some black leggings.  You sat on the steps of your front porch, silently staring at the broken door. Noah sat a few inches away from you, playing with his toys.

He crawled his way toward you, dumping a few pieces of his toys on your lap. He leaned against your thigh as he played, using your legs as a play area. You smiled down at the boy, running a hand through his hair. “It’s okay buddy.” You whispered. “Me and you, we’re gonna be okay no matter what happens.” You assured him.

There was a loud woosh in the air, followed by a thud on the ground, your head shot towards the side, eyes widening at the sight of Homelander, standing a few feet away from you, covered in blood from head to toe. The sight made you gasp.

You slowly got up to your feet and picked Noah up in your arms. “John…” You whispered as you slowly approached him, lips parting as your gaze drifted over the bloody man before you.“Who?” You asked softly, knowing not a drop of the blood that covered him, was his.

“Stillwell.” He muttered in a low voice as he blankly stared ahead of him, his eyes looking dead.

Stillwell was already writing a form of resigning and packing her bags when Hoemalnder found her. He could have made it quick for her, lazering her head in. But he made it as painful as possible. He dragged it out for as long as she could take before she choked on her own blood. When he left her house, Madelyn Stillwell was barely recognizable. She was scorched into almost nothing.

You slowly nodded your head. You shifted Noah onto one hip and with your free hand, you placed a hand on Homelander’s shoulder, almost flinching at the wet and cold patch of blood that stuck to his suit, smearing onto your palm. “Let’s go inside.” You insisted as you let him inside. “You can clean up in the bathroom.”

You washed your hand, scrubbed it until the skin was burning and red then you waited in the living room as Homelander cleaned himself in the bathroom. Noah was sitting on the floor, nibbling on one of his toy cars.

You glanced up when you heard Homelander’s footsteps approaching. He was clean now, his blonde hair damp. His face was blank as he sat down on the couch opposite yours. Noah’s attention was drawn to Homelander and he abandoned all his toys and crawled towards his father.

Homelander stared at the baby who now sat by his feet. He was unsure of what to do when Noah lightly slapped his leg. Hesitantly he reached out and picked up his son, resting Noah on his lap. Noah’s interest immediately went to Homelander’s cape, pulling and biting at the fabric. Homelander didn’t even care about the drool now on his cape. He watched his son in awe.

You slowly got up from the couch you sat on and moved to sit next to Homelander. “I’m sorry.” You whispered as you looked at him, a frown tugging at your lips. “I couldn’t…I couldn’t let them do to him what they did to you.” You muttered softly as you shook your head.

“You’re a good mother, Y/n,” Homelander replied as he wrapped one arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side. You leaned into his touch like you always used to do. It brought strange emotions forth in Homelander. Having a woman who loved and adored him and a son. A fucking family. HIS family. “He’s lucky to have you.”  He said softly as his gaze turned to Noah.

“Now he has you too.” You whispered as you turned your head to look up at Homelander, his gaze never leaving Noah. Never had you seen the man so much in awe of something or someone. Your gaze also turned to Noah and you pursed your lips. “They ran tests on him when he was born.” You informed him softly and he tensed up for a second until you continued speaking.  “He’s like you, but he hasn’t shown any of his powers yet.” You explained as you looked back at Homelander again. “He’s a real gentle kid actually.” You said as a smile tugged at your lips.

A smile tugged at Homelander’s lips as well. He felt proud knowing his kid was like him. He turned to look back down at Noah again, gently running a hand through the baby’s hair. “He looks so much like me…” He noted softly as he let out a soft, pleased huff.

“He does.” You agreed with a nod of your head. “I took so much comfort in that.” You admitted softly as you smiled sadly. For the past eight months, Noah was all you had of Homelander. Of the man you loved with all your heart.

“Vought’s not going to hurt you or our son.” Homelander assured as his hold on you tightened and he pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “And they won’t take either of you away from me ever again.” He promised softly as he leaned his head against yours.

After fixing your front door and informing you that all the guards around the woods were dead, Homelander spent the entire day playing with his son. They played with toy supes, and cars, watched cartoons together, and played a little outside. After eating dinner and getting a bath from his father, Noah was beyond tired. You let Homelander put the baby to bed. It was the least you could give him after he missed eight months of his son’s life.

You sat in the living room, looking up when Homelander returned to you. “He sleeping?” You asked softly as he sat down next to you, shifting to lay his head on your shoulder as he closed his eyes.

“Yeah.” He replied softly as he slowly nodded his head.

 “You really knocked him out.” You said softly as you let out a soft chuckle, a smile tugging at your lips as you leaned your head against his.

“I couldn’t let him go.” He spoke softly as he inhaled slowly. “I just wanted to spend every single second with him.” He said as he turned his head to look up at you, his face barely an inch away from yours.  “I’ve missed so much.” He whispered.

You sighed softly, reaching out to brush your finger across his cheek. “Now, we all have so much time together.” You whispered as you offered him a small smile, cupping his cheek. “I’ve dreamt of this day for so long.” You admitted. “Wondering how it would be if you found us…meet him.” You muttered before sighing again. You silently stared at him for a second before resting your forehead against his. “I love you, John.”

“I love you.” He replied as he reached up to cup your cheek as well before pressing his lips against yours in a yearning kiss. Now he had all he ever wanted. A family. A son. And a woman who loved him. He had it all. All he needed. And fucking pray for anyone trying to take it from him again.

[thebiggerbear]

"You're safe now. I'm here." - Russell Shaw Prompt Response Part 1

Summary: You've been taken hostage and Russell is part of the unit sent in to retrieve you.

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Female!Reader

A/N: This is a prompt from @sydnee-kom-spacekru that I had to turn into a two-parter because it got way too long for just one posting. I've been working on this since May 19th when I decided to add Russell to the multi-character prompt response project I'm currently working on.

For this story, I chose Colombia as the country featured in here because I remember when we were growing up, we would ask our parents why we couldn't visit our cousins from there, and we were told it was too dangerous. As we grew older, we obviously found out why. That's the only reason I chose it for that part of the story. Obviously, I'm not making any statements, political or otherwise, about Colombia or any past/present situation happening there.

A tiny disclaimer: I do not work in the medical field so I apologize for any inconsistencies, exaggerations, or complete fallacies. I did my best to research but ultimately, I'm not trained in that industry. I also am not in the military, political, or governmental fields. I also am not the CEO of a major corporation. I utilized those parts of the story strictly for fictional purposes. So I apologize in advance again if I get anything incorrect for those fields.

All unbeta'd.

Part 2

Warnings: graphic violence; attempted sexual assault; trauma; graphic blood/injury; gun violence/gunfire; mentions of dead bodies; death; mentions of execution; kidnapping/hostage situation; PTSD; angst

Word Count: 11k+

You can also read on AO3

“You’re safe now, I’m here.”

Soldier Boy version ✨ SDV Leah version

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx

You slowly glanced around the room you were being held in. You winced when the pain in your head started up again from the movement. You knew you had some cuts on your face, your lip, and one near your hairline. One of the people who had taken you and your co-workers hostage had shouted at you in Spanish and worked you over a little. You understood most of what he had screamed but you had no answers for him. 

You and your team had come down to visit the Bogota office upon the insistence of your father. The company his grandfather had started decades prior had expanded to become one of the top corporations in the United States, eventually branching out internationally. Growing up, you hadn’t wanted for anything. As you got older and entered high school, your father made it clear to you, being his only child, that he wanted you to follow in his footsteps and take over the family business one day. It wasn’t exactly what you’d dreamed of but it had been made known from the outset that whatever you might want would never matter in the scheme of things. Not when it came to the importance of legacy and carrying on the family name and the company’s brand, all while working closely with the Board. So, you had pursued your business degree in college at an Ivy League school, even going so far as to achieve your MBA and make your father proud.

You were quickly welcomed into the company and you put your nose to the grindstone, worked hard, and began to climb the corporate ladder. A lot of people knew that had to do with your last name but they also saw you working the same long hours as them, working just as much, and sacrificing any semblance of a personal life you could have had. You didn’t even have plants in your lavish city apartment because you were practically never there to water them. Weekends were a concept that ceased to exist the moment you left the university. If your co-workers worked 60-hour work weeks, you worked 80. If they worked through holidays like Memorial Day and July 4th, you worked those days, too, in addition to Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s. So you earned some respect, some envy, and some resentment — a healthy mix of it all as you raced to the top at your father’s constant prodding. 

Only a year ago, you’d moved to Manhattan to run the New York office, a promotion that had your father beaming with pride. It was a bit of a transition, as any transition would be, but ultimately, you got to know your team, your department heads, and you’d settled in as best you could. You never truly relaxed into your role but you let your employees know up front that you were there to make things easier, not more difficult. You were interested in flooding the figurative harbor so everyone’s boats would rise, not just yours or the Board’s. Your father had not appreciated that little introductory speech you had made but you couldn’t find it in yourself to regret it. You had meant every word and you set out every single day to not only prove yourself but to also make that vision come true. 

Which was partially what had brought you to the Bogota office. While you were responsible for New York, your father had made the valid point that you should travel to the international offices of Bogota, London, and Beijing. You should show your face and introduce yourself in person, not just on Zoom. You had been hesitant, not because you didn’t want to visit the sites and meet the crews, but because you still didn’t feel confident that you could afford to be away from your home office for that long (it would be about a two and a half week trip). Not because you didn’t trust your team to run things without you but because you had several projects in the works that required your constant participation, feedback, approval, and sometimes guidance. It felt strange to put it all at risk by choosing the most inopportune moment for you to go shake hands on the international stage and take tours of the other facilities. You didn’t want to leave your team in a lurch at a dire time such as this one. You had tried to explain all of this to your father when he grew irritated at your resistance.

“Stop with the excuses. You’re going and that’s final,” he had snapped at you before leaving your office. And that had been that. 

The next morning, you and a few selected co-workers (handpicked by your father) were on a flight to Bogota, the first stop on your international tour. Thankfully, Colombia was only one hour behind New York so you’d be able to check in with your office as soon as you landed. 

Things were going well with your visit, right up until the moment you and your team were leaving the building to head back to the hotel for a late lunch when you were ambushed. A black hood had been thrown over your head, you’d felt pain as something hit you from the side, and the next thing you knew, you woke up in a vehicle that you could feel and hear but not see. You had no idea what happened until you were instructed in Spanish to shut up, stay quiet and not struggle, and you wouldn’t get hurt. You knew you were in trouble when you came to but now you knew without a doubt as you listened to the conversation between the men surrounding you, you had been taken hostage.

You had no idea where they had brought you but you’d been there for what felt like a month though you couldn’t be sure. You had been held in the same room, only able to use the bathroom which they escorted you to. You were in some compound and any time you’d tried to sneak a peek out of an open window during your bathroom treks, you either got yelled at and hit or you could only make out a thick cover of trees. You and your group had been terrified every single day of your captivity that they would kill you all, or worse. You had three men in your group and four women including you. One of the kidnappers had already tried to take advantage of that fact and had thrown Meredith from Finance onto the floor, unbuckling his pants. You had begged in Spanish for her to be left alone while Pat and Suzanne had cried and screamed. Tim, Jerry, and Rob had all been taken to the bathroom beforehand (something that hadn’t happened before, they usually took the guys one at a time) so it had been just you four in the room. When the man didn’t show any signs of stopping and Meredith tearfully begged him from the floor to let her be, something switched off in your brain and you flew at him. You attempted to hit him anywhere you could but he knocked you down flat in seconds. He backhanded you a couple of times, making the women in the background scream louder, and he then decided you were going to be the one he was going to assault instead. He ripped your shirt and you tried to fight him off but he was too strong. Thankfully, another kidnapper heard all of the commotion and came running, rushing into the room and stopping the man, yelling at him that none of you were to be touched, that was part of the deal. Your would-be assailant yelled back at the man who had saved you and then got to his feet, spitting on you, as he stormed out of the room, followed by your unintentional savior. 

You attempted to cover yourself with the shreds of your shirt but it was useless. You now only had a bra and little bits of cloth left from how violently he had torn the fabric. You were shaking but somehow you were able to crawl your way over to Meredith to check on her. Sobbing, she held onto you and before you knew it, Pat and Suzanne had rushed over, throwing their arms around you both, still crying themselves but also trying to speak reassurances to you both. Your body shook in their embrace as it finally hit you how close you had come to being assaulted. If that other man hadn’t interrupted when he did… You shuddered at the thought. It wasn’t long after that when Tim, Jerry, and Rob were returned to the room, their hoods removed, and one glance in your direction let them know immediately what had happened. Rob had actually removed his shirt and offered it to you, apologizing for the smell. You appreciated his selfless gesture but you were thankful when Tim instead offered up the windbreaker pullover he had been wearing the day you had been taken. You took the latter, thanking them both for their generosity and thoughtfulness. Tim at least still had his t-shirt.

Then, a couple of days later, you had been dragged from the room, thrust into a chair, and tied up. The questioning began, about the money from your company among other things, and you were worked over when they didn’t get the answers they wanted. You hadn’t noticed a man holding a smartphone while sitting in the corner, taking in every second of the torture you endured, until your interrogation ended. You had been afraid but seeing that phone…you were absolutely terrified. Were they going to kill you on video, sending it off to media outlets to share globally for your father to see? Or would they use social media?

They didn’t end up killing you, though. Instead, they brought you to a room with a single bed that you had never seen before. You did not like the fact that you had been separated from your group. You began to hyperventilate at the realization that they were isolating you for a purpose, thinking you would be attacked again, especially when you heard a loud gunshot reverberate from outside followed by yelling that you couldn’t quite make out. But instead of anyone coming to hurt you, they sent in a doctor to tend to your wounds. Once he had, you curled up into a ball and hugged your knees to your chest, waiting for the worst to happen, intent on fighting tooth and nail when the time came. But a few days later or however long it had been, they brought you back into the interrogation room again. 

You expected the blows this time though they still hurt horribly. They began to cut you on your arms, near your neck, your shoulders, your torso…they never cut your face, though. While you were grateful for that small mercy, they still beat the hell out of you, the worst they ever had. While your face may have been spared the cutting, it was not spared the hits. You had even taken a couple of hard blows to the head that left you reeling. You didn’t even remember if you had screamed, cried, or begged for them to stop. Instead, you remembered some random saying in some movie you had seen stating that pain was the way you knew you were still alive. You held onto that as they continued to inflict as much damage as they could without actually killing you or making it impossible for you to speak. They had even unzipped Tim’s pullover at the beginning of the torture, leaving you in your bra, and besides the cuts they had also landed punches to your already severely bruised stomach and sides. They had even stomped on your bare feet, making you cry out as some of your toes broke from the force. They had even taken a bat to your right knee. That time you screamed the loudest you ever had in your life, sobbing so hard you didn’t think you’d ever be able to stop. The pain was immense, something you hadn’t felt before, and tears poured down your face, mixing with the blood dripping from a busted lip and most likely broken nose. When they stopped to take a break, it didn’t surprise you in the least that the same man with the phone from last time was there in the same corner. It did surprise you, though, that they didn’t leave. While you figured they were just ramping up to go for a second round, something told you that you may not come out alive from this particular interrogation. You could only hope the others you had been brought here with somehow did. A small part of you wondered if the reason they were going harder on you this time, possibly about to kill you on video, is because your company didn’t pay the sum demanded in the last one. You knew your father must have done everything he could to secure your release, even if the Board for some reason hadn’t. You hadn’t prayed since you were a girl, right before your mother died, but you sent a silent one up anyway to anyone who might be listening that your father would never see this footage. It would destroy him if he did. You didn’t expect much, though. Your mom had still passed away from a terminal illness, so you were pretty sure your father wouldn’t be spared seeing your last moments like this.

But instead of starting back up again as you anticipated, the men ended up stepping outside of the room though they left the phone behind, on some sort of stand, still pointing in your direction. 

So now here you were, your body exhausted yet radiating nothing but pain. You slowly swung your head around in a daze, blinking against the bright light they had turned on before leaving. You waited for them to come back, to finally do their worst and possibly end your life. You were terrified but you also knew how badly injured you were, that there was nothing you could do. Even if you could somehow get loose, how would you manage to escape? Even if you got outside, this compound was heavily patrolled by armed guards. And even if by some miracle you could get past them without being seen or an alarm being sounded when your absence was discovered, you had no idea where you were. You were in the jungle for Christ’s sake, from the brief glimpses you’d managed to catch on your bathroom runs. You had no idea where to go from here. Still, though, you heard that small voice inside your head, telling you to fight, not to give in or give up. You had to work hard, be the best, and prove yourself. Go, go, go. The voice sounded strangely like your father’s. 

As you waited for your captors to come back, you glanced around the room to see if there was anything that could help you. You attempted to move your arms but gasped in pain when you did. You didn’t even try anything with your right leg. You knew your kneecap was broken; it had to be. You chanced moving your left leg, though, but it didn’t budge. You were stuck to this chair.

Suddenly, you heard the last thing you expected. Gunfire. 

Not that gunfire was all that unusual around here. You had heard some happen during your captivity but it was short and never answered. You and your co-workers had no idea what went on in the rest of the compound but after hearing those rounds being fired every so often, you didn’t really want to know.

But these were extended rapid bursts of gunfire and someone was definitely shooting back. Not to mention all of the furious yelling you could hear down the hall. You idly wondered if one of your people got free and they were making a break for it. If it was, you hoped they got free and were able to go for help. 

You knew you should be scared as the gunshots got closer to you, when you heard more yells and some thuds right outside your door, but you simply resigned yourself to your fate. Especially when one of the kidnappers burst into the room and held a gun to your head, yelling in Spanish at an unseen person to stay back or he would kill you. Your body began to shake uncontrollably once more, thinking this was it. You knew it; you were going to die. 

Two men swept into the room, dressed in tactical-looking gear and donning black face masks with holes only for eyes and mouths, assault rifles pointed in your captor’s direction. The man on your right told him to let you go in Spanish or he would be dead before he could squeeze a round off. 

The man on your left briefly glanced at you, his gaze an assessing one, before focusing back onto his target. Your captor screamed at them and pushed the gun into your temple, making you shake harder and take shallow breaths. 

“You got him?” The man on the left asked, surprising you when you heard him speak English. He sounded…American. 

“I got him,” the man on the right answered. Another American.

The kidnapper must have understood them because he gripped your head and pulled it back, pushing his gun now into the side of your face, making you scream out in pain. You heard a gunshot and suddenly the barrel against your cheek was gone as was the pressure around your head. A loud thud sounded as your captor’s body fell to the ground behind you and you moved your head to a position that didn’t hurt so much.

The two men were suddenly there, the one on the left laying a hand on your shoulder. “Please…don’t hurt me,” you begged in a raspy whisper. You followed it up with the same plea in Spanish, still not sure who you were exactly dealing with as your head swam.

“Hey,” the left soldier spoke softly. “Look at me.”

You did the best you could. It shocked you to see green eyes staring back at you with something that looked like kindness. Kindness…you hadn’t seen that in what felt like forever. Considering you’d only seen hatred and disgust from everyone around you since this whole ordeal started, this was something new and you held onto it with all of your might. 

“We’re here to get you out. Just hold on.” He pulled out a switchblade and you immediately gasped and began to shake again. “It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just cutting the ropes,” he explained gently as he did it. “See?” You carefully moved your head to gaze down, seeing that he was indeed doing as he said. 

Once you were free, you began to slide off of the chair, unable to sit up right due to your head still swimming. The movement caused you to cry out in pain from your injured knee being jostled when he caught you and lifted your arm around his shoulders to gently help you back into your original seated position. Your body still shaking, your brain told you that he was telling you the truth and he had just proved it, but you were still terrified and unsure of what to believe — no matter how kind his eyes were. “Shh, you’re safe now. I’m here and I’m going to get you out. I’m guessing they did a number on your legs?” He frowned down at your bloody feet. 

“My knee,” you quietly sobbed, the pain still radiating throughout your right leg. “They—they broke it.”

“Shit,” he muttered, studying the leg you had glanced at. 

In the background, you noticed the other man grab the smartphone and slip it into his pocket before heading back over in your direction. “What are we doing, man? Grab her and let’s go. Clock’s ticking.”

The man crouched in front of you looked up at the other one. “She can’t walk.” He inclined his head in the direction of your knee. “We’re going to have to carry her out.”

“Fucking hell,” the other one hissed. “Maybe we can get in touch with the chopper and get an evac.”

The man in front of you shook his head. “No, this is supposed to be a quick in and out. We have to get to the extraction point. They’re not coming for us.” So maybe these two were soldiers? They sounded like they might be military. Had your father somehow managed to get the government to send the US military in to rescue you?

“But, there’s no way we can—”

“No time for this, man. We’ve got to move now before reinforcements arrive.” Your rescuer turned back to you. “Alright, listen, I’m not going to lie to you, this is going to hurt like hell. I’m going to try my best to take it easy on you but we have to get you out of here now.”

You shook your head, causing tears to roll down your face. You wouldn’t admit it but you were as scared of the pain as you were to go out into the chaos you still heard happening outside of the room you were in. 

He laid his hand on your shoulder again and locked gazes with you. “We have to do this. I told you before. I’m here to get you out and that means I’m not leaving without you.” He very gently rubbed at your shoulder in reassurance. “So, just try to relax and I’ll—” He carefully tried to slip his free hand underneath your legs and gingerly lift them but the movement caused you to scream in pain. 

“Okay, okay,” your soldier soothed and backed off.

The other soldier was shaking his head. “We are so fucked.”

“Hey, we’re not.” Your guy turned to give him a sharp look. “Just give me a second with her.”

The other one let out an aggravated sigh and impatiently pointed to his watch before holding his rifle up and leaving the room. 

Your soldier glanced back at you. “Okay. Time for some real talk. We’ve got about seventeen minutes to get to the extraction point which is out of this place and up the hill on the north side. Which would be, not exactly a cakewalk because it would still be tough, but if you were able to use your legs and we were running, we’d probably make it there in the next fifteen despite any resistance we might encounter. But, this is—”

“Going to slow you down,” you choked out. “I’m not going to make it.” More tears rolled down your cheeks, stinging when they came into contact with your injuries. If you had to be left behind, you knew you would die. No question about it.

“Hey,” he spoke softer than he had a moment ago. “I told you I’m not leaving here without you and I meant it. So don’t go thinking anything like that.” His eyes narrowed slightly as your head became too heavy to try to hold up. His hand was suddenly behind your neck, helping you, as he visually inspected one of the wounds at your hairline. “Dammit,” you heard him mutter. “Okay, I’m getting you out of here.”

He bent down to scoop you up but you grabbed onto his uniform, gripping a bit of the fabric in your fingers though it hurt to do so. He turned to look at you and you shook your head, whimpering. “Please,” you begged. 

He reached up with a gloved hand and gently wiped under your eyes with his thumb. “I’m sorry but I have to. If I don’t…” He didn’t finish that sentence but he didn’t need to; the concern you saw in his green gaze said more than enough, and confirmed what he had already told you. “I know the pain is going to be a bitch and a half, but you’ve got to push through as best you can. I’ll carry you and get you to that chopper, I promise, but I need you to hold on. If you have to cry, scream, hell, even bite down on me, you do whatever you’ve got to do. But we’re doing this and we’re doing it now. You ready?”

“N-No.” Your voice wobbled a little bit but you heard him. You were going to try your best but you were still scared of the impending pain. “I’ll try.”

“Atta girl.” He gently positioned you as close to him as possible, zipping up the pullover that your captors had left open, and then carefully placed his free arm under your legs again. You got ready for the pain and whimpered again when he got ready to lift you. “I promise, after this, we’ll get that knee looked at, and that head injury, as soon as we get you someplace safe. Hey, look at me.” You struggled to meet his eyes but when you did, you saw the kindness from earlier staring back at you. “You’ve got this. You’ve made it this far and you’re going to make it all the way. I’m going to make sure you do.” 

“Okay,” you whispered, afraid to speak any louder when the threat of the impending pain. Almost as if you spoke a half a decibel higher, you might make it hurt worse than it already was going to. It didn’t make sense but you weren’t exactly thinking straight right then. 

You held onto the outer edge of his vest, wincing at the flare up of pain in your hand, as ready as you could possibly be in that moment. 

He gave you another second, a brief respite from what was to come, and then a nod. “Alright, here we go.”

The man slowly lifted you and it hurt, sure, but what really hurt was when gravity did its work when he carefully got to his feet. You couldn’t help but cry out. You immediately stuck your thumb knuckle into your mouth and bit down, hoping this would all be over very soon.

The other soldier appeared in the doorway, having heard your cries. Your soldier took a few steps towards him, forcing you to bite harder into your skin and more tears to roll down your cheeks. “Let’s get moving. Call the bird and let them know we’re on our way.” The man nodded and turned, speaking to someone to let them know you were about to leave the compound and would need backup on the way. 

When he turned around and gave you both a nod, your soldier held you a little closer to him. “You take point and lead us out. We’re good.” He then turned a reassuring smile on you. “Aren’t we?”

You wanted to answer him but you couldn’t. He hadn’t even started really moving yet and already the pain was agonizing. Instead, you carefully laid your head on his shoulder, feeling pure exhaustion wash over you that left an even foggier trace behind in your mind.

“Let’s do this.” Your soldier looked back towards the door and began to follow his fellow soldier out of the room. You gasped from the pain, bit into your flesh harder, and ignored the tears spilling onto your face. You weren’t going to be able to hold back the pained cries for long. You had no idea how you weren’t screaming at this point.

As you all turned down a hallway, you couldn’t help but think of the others and that provided a momentary distraction. “What about—my people?” You asked through gritted teeth.   

“Already extracted,” he whispered. “Now it’s your turn, Y/N.”

You were still fighting your way through a misty fog of pain and sluggishness but that caught your attention. You released your thumb and stuttered out, “You know my name.”

“Of course I know your name. We came here for you.” He shot you a wink and then proceeded to carefully make his way down the stairs after the way forward was cleared. 

You idly wondered about that as you held onto him, noting several dead bodies in your peripherals but refusing to look straight at them. You could hear him huffing and puffing next to you and you felt badly that he had to carry you because you were unable to walk. A couple of times, he had to stop and hunker down with you while the other soldier engaged the remaining kidnappers you came across. The third time, it was a struggle for you but you whispered, “Slowing you down. Not —gonna make it.”

“Shhh, don’t worry about that. I’ve got you,” he murmured back. And sure enough, once it was clear again, you were on the move. Before long, you had met up with more soldiers (the backup that must have been called for) and one of them offered to take you. You involuntarily tightened your grip on your rescuer’s vest and he shook his head. “Thanks, but I’m good.” 

Eventually, you made your way out onto the terrain and you could no longer hold back your pained cries. “Almost there,” he promised. After what felt like prolonged agony, you finally reached an area where a helicopter was indeed waiting. The sight of it made something that felt like relief loosen inside your chest. You were really going to make it out of here alive. Your soldier went to hand you off to another inside when your fingers tightened reflexively around him again. “It’s just for a second to let me get in,” he reassured you. 

You nodded, hoping it wouldn’t hurt as bad as that run had, and let him go. Once you were all boarded onto the helicopter, you were moved around again until you were back in your soldier’s embrace, holding tightly onto him as the aircraft lifted into the air and headed away from the compound where more gunfire erupted. 

You tried to ask him something but he couldn’t hear you so he ducked his head near yours. “Where are my people?” You asked as loudly as you could, taking every little bit of strength you had left. You were still under the fog, but you still noticed your co-workers weren’t in the helicopter with you. 

He turned and placed his lips near your ear. “They’re in another chopper!” You had all made it safely out. Thank God.

You nodded and laid your head against his shoulder, completely spent and feeling the throbbing of pain in your body intensify, making you acutely aware of all the rest of your injuries. The pain radiated from your knee outwardly and now you could feel it in your torso, your arms, your head… Your eyes began to close of their own accord when he shook your shoulder a little. “I’m sure all you want to do right now is sleep but I need you to stay awake. At least until the docs get a good look at you!”

You blinked dazedly up at him. “I don’t think I can,” you mumbled, not even sure he heard you. The tide of pain was washing you under.

He then did the last thing you expected. He lifted his mask and you finally saw the man underneath, the owner of those green eyes that you had been holding onto during this entire ordeal. 

“Man, what the hell are you doing?” You heard yelled nearby, but your soldier kept his eyes on yours.

“I need you to stay awake, Y/N! You think you can do that for me?”

You took in his features, your fingers carefully lifting up to touch the thick beard he sported, noting the dirt and grime smears all over his face, but his eyes were what captivated you. Now without the mask in the way, you were free to get lost in those green orbs as deeply as you dared. Too bad you couldn’t seem to stay conscious. 

He shook you again. “Y/N! Hey! Stay awake!”

“Sorry,” you slurred before everything went black.

The next time you jerked into consciousness, screaming out in pain, the helicopter had just landed and your soldier, once again wearing his face mask, was yelling instructions to the men around him. You couldn’t hear exactly what they were, the pain was that intense. You were lifted out into another soldier’s arms and looking past him, you saw a second helicopter not that far away. You watched as your co-workers were ushered off of it alongside other masked soldiers but something didn’t seem right. You weren’t sure what it was but something was off to you.

You were placed into someone else’s arms and you saw the eyes of your rescuer once again, softening when he saw that you were crying.

“Something’s—wrong.” 

“Stay with me this time, Y/N,” he urged as he hurried you away from the helicopter. “Help is just a few feet away! Only a little bit more to go.”

You tried to stay with him, you really did, but the tide of pain started to blanket you once again. Alongside it, the feeling of something’s wrong surged throughout your body before the darkness overtook you once more. 

The next time you came to, you were on a gurney and bright lights were shining down on you. Doctors and nurses surrounded you, talking quickly in Spanish and calling out a few instructions. Your body began to involuntarily tremble again. Had your rescue been a dream? Had your kidnappers brought you to another part of the compound where they had an assembled medical team waiting to somehow keep you alive after they had unleashed such brutality on you? Or were you just dead?

You felt a warm hand in yours, a thumb stroking the top of yours reassuringly. You gingerly turned your head to find your soldier, still wearing his mask, standing right there, smiling down at you. “There you are. You had me worried for a second.”

Before you could ask him if he was real, if any of it was, a nurse started yelling at him, trying to get him to leave. He replied in perfect Spanish, telling her in a very resolved tone that he wasn’t leaving until he knew you were going to be okay. She let out a frustrated huff and shot him a glare before turning away to speak to the doctors. They insisted he had to go and once again, without your permission, you tightened your grip on him, not wanting him to go anywhere.

“No,” you rasped out. “Please let him stay. Please.” He was the only thing anchoring you in this moment. You got the distinct feeling that if you lost him, you’d be lost entirely, never to resurface. He was safety for you, an end to the horrific ordeal you had been through, and you didn’t want him to leave you.

A doctor leaned over you, speaking kindly in English. “It’s okay,” he spoke with a heavy accent. “We are going to make you better but he can’t be in here.”

You shook your head and grabbed at your soldier’s forearm with your free hand though it hurt like hell. 

“Doc, can you give us a second?”

The doctor gave him a look but did as he asked, moving back over to his team. 

The man next to you pulled a chair from out of nowhere and positioned it next to you. He took a seat and only when he had did you release him, wincing as you dropped your right hand next to you. 

He smiled reassuringly down at you. “You’re going to be okay. They’re going to fix you right up. You’ve been through a lot but you’re going to be alright.”

You knew what he was doing; he was calming you down and saying goodbye. For some reason, that made you tear up. Even though you didn’t know this man, he had been your harbor of safety in a chaotic whirlwind, a beacon of hope to cling to in a truly terrifying situation you had found yourself in. When a tear rolled down your cheek, he wiped it away with his thumb. “Will you be here when I wake up?” You choked out.

“I’ll be here until you fall asleep.”

That set loose more tears and he made sure to catch every single one. In the meantime, the nurse came over and injected something into your IV. When you started feeling drowsy a minute or so later, it wasn’t hard to guess what was happening. “Will I ever see you again?” You frantically intertwined your fingers with his as you struggled to stay awake.

He leaned closer, smiling in the same reassurance his green eyes were trying to convey. “I’ll find you,” he murmured, gently squeezing your hand. That made even more tears fall. It surprised you when he moved in to whisper to you, “Get some rest, sweetheart. You’ve more than earned it.”

You wanted to stay awake; you fought it, not wanting to lose sight of those green eyes fixated on you, knowing they would be gone once you closed yours. But you lost that battle as a sea of sleepiness dragged you down with it. You held onto his words as your eyes finally shut from the weight of the drug and you could no longer see him or feel his hand in yours. “I’ll find you” reverberated through your mind as you sank deeper and deeper into oblivion, falling at a rapid rate from deep green into solid black, until you were completely engulfed by it and you were gone.

You briefly closed your eyes as you felt a cool breeze gently make its way past you. You watched as two orange leaves pirouetted in the air, spinning round and round, until they landed several feet away. Silent ripples danced along the water’s surface in front of you and you could hear the sounds of people milling about near you, talking, surrounded by a symphony of nature sounds mixed in with the faroff noises of city life. You couldn’t help but smile when you heard small children giggling as they played on the grass nearby with their parents watching over them. You watched as a small group of teenage girls walked past you, laughing as they reminisced over something that had happened the past weekend. You saw an old man on another bench further down the path, an open book in his hands. 

These were the small peaceful moments that you had come to appreciate since you rejoined society a couple of months ago. These were the ones you held onto when the memories of the terror and pain all became a bit too much, that reminded you that you were back home, safe. 

You watched as two moms in workout gear jogged by with their strollers. A man and woman coming from the opposite direction made their way around the two women and continued their trek, drinking from to-go cups and dressed in business casual attire. Sure enough, you could hear them discussing work-related topics as they passed you by. You smiled sadly as you watched them get further and further from your sight. 

That had been you not that long ago, where you didn’t have a care in the world other than pushing out new product lines and being in charge of one of the main offices of the family business. The pressure had been near soul-crushing most of the time but you had adapted for the most part and rolled with it. You worked hard, you worked long hours, and you were alright with that. You took the stress of hectic deadlines and constantly putting out fires and you rolled with the punches. It became part of your make-up and it could only help fuel you even faster towards your goal — your father’s goal. Now, after what you’d been through, your outlook on it all had changed. What had felt like life and death matters in the corporate world before no longer felt as dire as it used to. You’d been in a literal life and death situation and lived to tell the tale; whatever came your way business wise you knew you could more than handle. There was something about being tortured and having a gun held to your head, convinced you were about to die, that just put things into perspective for you.

And though you survived, you didn’t actually get to tell your tale. The minute you were reunited with your father, while he had been grateful you were alive and kissed your forehead, it was made clear to you that you and the co-workers who had been in captivity with you were to sign NDA’s. That had completely floored you. That was the Board’s main concern? That the public might find out that some of its employees had been kidnapped, terrorized, and tortured? How were they going to explain your month long absence from the job, from your lives? You knew Meredith had a fiance, Pat was a grandmother, Rob had just gotten married weeks before this happened, and Tim had a wife and kids waiting back at home for him. Suzanne was dating someone in HR and you could have sworn you heard Jerry mention at some point that he had a dog to get back to, hoping his neighbor had either checked in on it or at least notified someone to do so. How in the world did the Board plan to explain away any of it?

Your father had let out an aggravated sigh as you fired question after question at him. Who had taken you? What had they wanted besides money? Why hadn’t the Board met their demands? Why had it taken them so long to get the government involved?

“They weren’t involved.”

Your eyes had widened in shock. “What? How?”

Your father had taken your hand in between his and stared into your eyes with meaning. “I’m only going to mention this once and then we’re never going to speak of it again. We hired someone to send in a team to get you out of there.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Hired someone? As in mercenaries?”

“Private contractors for security. They handle this type of situation quite frequently but they keep it all very hush hush. So that is why the Board is insisting on NDA’s for all of you. It’s not only to protect the brand but also to protect all of you.”

“Protect this organization they hired, you mean.”

Your father nodded, not looking troubled by your accusation in the least.

“I don’t understand, Dad. You have contacts in Defense. Why wouldn’t you call them?”

“We did. They recommended these people and said they were our best option. If we hired them, they could get in quickly and get you out. If we didn’t and chose to go through more official channels, it might prolong the process and that might be time that you didn’t have.”

You could see the wisdom in that advice he’d been given. They had been right; had they gotten there even just an hour later than they did, you might not be alive right now. “But a month, Dad? Why did they wait so long?”

Your father tightened his grip on your hand and you knew you weren’t going to like what he had to say next. “At first, we didn’t know who had taken you. When they made contact…the Board wanted to try negotiating with them first.”

You huffed out a breath in disbelief. Those sons of bitches…

“I pushed for them to do something more drastic but they fought me every step of the way. It wasn’t until they received that first video message that they finally agreed that I should make the call.” 

So your father had fought for you, but to a point. That fact rolled around in your brain for a moment. Had your roles been reversed, you would have told the Board to go screw themselves and immediately contacted whoever could rescue your father as soon as possible. No amount of money, litigation threats, or risk to the business would have stopped you. You, his only child, his only surviving family member, had been in mortal danger, and he hadn’t done everything he could to secure your safe return home as soon as possible? It was hard to wrap your mind around that. Then his last words finally registered. “Wait, what video message?”

His blue eyes softened with sympathy then and you could swear you could see a little bit of pain beginning to cloud them. “Where you were tortured.”

You should have known. Why else would your kidnappers have filmed it? Truthfully, you had known it back when they were hurting you. You shouldn’t be surprised, but you also didn’t want to talk about it. “You mean the pictures weren’t enough to convince them?” Before that first night, your kidnappers had forced you and your co-workers to look up at them as they snapped photos of you on their phones. You knew then that they were either using it as a scare tactic for your father and the Board or they were providing proof of life. Either way, it hadn’t mattered in the end since obviously the kidnappers had kicked it up a notch after that. 

A haunted look fleeted across your father’s tired face. While you may still be struggling with the idea that he hadn’t done everything you would have done in his place, you knew this had taken a toll on him. He had been genuinely concerned for you and the relief you’d seen on his expression when he saw you for the first time since you’d been separated was palpable. “When they saw the video, they could no longer pretend that this was something they could simply deal their way out of.”

Your brows drew together as you studied him. You were sure it had been hard for them to see what had happened to you, to hear your cries, your screams, your pained whimpers. You knew it must have been even more difficult for your father to see. But somehow you got the distinct impression that’s not what he was referring to. “Dad.” He glanced up at you and sure enough, you could tell he was keeping something from you. “Tell me.”

He grasped your hand tightly once more. This was definitely not going to be good. “It was bad enough to see what they did to you…but the end of the video was what convinced them.” At your knitted brow, he elaborated, “They pulled Tim out of the room they were keeping you all in, brought him somewhere, and then killed him.”

Your eyes widened and your heart stopped. What?

“And they said if they didn’t get what they wanted in three days, you were next.” 

Your heart started up again and began to pound in your chest. You felt like you were falling with no end in sight. Tim was…dead? Your breathing sped up into short pants and you could hear beeping from a machine you were connected to but it sounded so far away.

You had blocked out some of that experience, your brain subconsciously trying to protect you perhaps, you weren’t sure. And whatever memories stayed, each time they started to flash in your mind, you would close your eyes and grab hold of your safe harbor in those turbulent waves of trauma that tried to overtake you. You would think of green and while the images didn’t exactly disappear, it kept them at a safe distance. Well, while you were awake at least. The nightmares you experienced were something else entirely.

But this…nothing could protect you from this. You suddenly remembered being locked in that bedroom, hearing the yelling, the gunshot—oh God, the gunshot. You had heard the moment they— Your father urged you to calm down, rubbing your hand comfortingly, but you couldn’t hear him or even when a nurse rushed into the room to ask what was going on. Because at that precise moment, a memory came back to you, ripping your tight grip on your green harbor and tossing you back into the dark ocean of trauma and pain to drown in. 

It had been right before you’d passed out the second time. While your soldier had gotten out of the helicopter, you had glanced over to see the other helicopter that your people were disembarking from. At the time, you had been so out of it due to the pain and disorientation you had been feeling that you didn’t realize the number of people you should have been seeing was one short. You didn’t even seem to process the black bag two soldiers removed from the aircraft and carried off the tarmac together. You just knew something was wrong, something you had tried to tell your soldier before you passed out again. But now you knew exactly what you had seen.

Tim. Tim had been with you since you started in the New York office; he preceded you actually. Even though your father had chosen him to accompany you and the others, all you could remember was the nice man who had smiled and said hello as he walked into the office; the man who was quiet and reserved but also a hard worker; who had offered you his jacket to cover up with; the man who had begged the kidnappers for the photos of his kids from his wallet that they had taken and then denied him; the man who talked about his family and proudly told you all about his children. His daughter, Riley, was eight and she had recently taken up soccer. Before you’d left for Bogota, she had told him that her coach wanted her to try the goalie position but she was scared; she didn’t want balls flying at her head. You couldn’t blame her on that one and had said as much. You remembered all too well the sports you had been made to join growing up and it had never really been your thing, but it made your father happy so you did it each time he urged you to sign up or try out. Tim’s son, David, was nearly six and he had just graduated kindergarten. And the baby, Olivia, could be quite the handful since she was a very rambunctious toddler who never seemed to run out of energy, but his wife, Angela, lived up to her name and couldn’t be happier with their current family setup. And now… Now, he would never get to see any of them ever again.

The pained wail that met your ears caught you off guard until you realized it was coming from you. Tim was a good man and he had managed to make a life outside of work. He had something you had never let yourself dream about having since it would inevitably get in the way of your successful climbing of the corporate ladder. Now, he would never get to see his kids grow up, go to any more of Riley’s soccer games to encourage her, go on any more date nights with his wife — none of it. You had the horrible thought for a moment that it should have been you in that bag instead. It nearly had been you.

Your father held onto you as you wept, as the nurse rubbed your back from the opposite side of the bed, crooning soft reassurances to you and urging you to try to calm down. But nothing could reassure you; you were here and Tim was not. A cold hard fact that you could do nothing to change. Even worse, you had missed his funeral since you were stuck in the hospital you had been transferred to once you were flown from the one you had briefly ended up in down in Colombia. You hadn’t even known about his death until this moment, your suddenly resurfaced traumatic memories aside. 

Since that day, the memory of that single gunshot had tormented you. Had Tim known it was coming? Did he think about Angela and the kids right then? Had he prayed they would be okay without him? How terrified must he have been? You knew how scared you were in that bedroom, how fearful you had been during your second round of torture, sensing that this wasn’t going to end with the doctor treating you as it had the last time (which had now been confirmed that your instinct had been spot on). You could only imagine how he must have felt in that final moment.

The nightmares proceeded to get even worse and you were afraid to be left alone in your hospital room. Though your father and the medical staff had assured you that you were safe, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t, no matter how irrational you knew you were being. Eventually, your assistant Luna started working remotely from your room to keep you company and your father had hired two full-time bodyguards to watch over you: Owen during the day and Simon at night. When the nightmares became practically unbearable, that rotation switched. For some reason, you felt safer with Owen there. Perhaps it had to do with his look, specifically his salt and pepper beard…you briefly remembered the feeling of a beard underneath your bloody fingertips though you couldn’t place the face it belonged to. You had a feeling it was connected to the green you remembered, that you clung to in the tumultuous sea of mayhem that was the night you were marked to die — the green that you associated with your rescuer. Why you couldn’t recall his face, you had no idea, but you chalked it up to your brain once again trying to make sense of the chaos that reigned inside your head. 

Green continued to symbolize safety and reassurance for you. So much so that when Luna brought a bag of clothes for you to change into for your beginning rehab sessions, you immediately picked out an olive green hoodie she had selected from your closet and set it aside. You took to holding it close as you slept, letting the scent of home attached to it wash over you as you closed your eyes. When you would wake from your nightmares, sometimes gasping for air that wouldn’t come, sometimes crying, or sometimes screaming, you would see the hoodie next to you and grab it, holding it close until you could either breathe again or calm back down. It became a source of comfort for you and long remained that even after you were discharged. 

Your doctor had recommended therapy in addition to the outpatient rehab you would be continuing but truth be told, you weren’t in a rush to relive anything or even unearth something that might somehow be worse than what you already remembered. Your father had also dismissed the idea of therapy, saying that focusing on regaining your ability to walk without the assistance of crutches would help, as well as getting back to concentrating on work. You didn’t agree, you knew better, but you also allowed his view to become your excuse, solidifying your refusal to deal with the trauma you had suffered. After all, you were still here, still breathing — as long as you kept reminding yourself of that, you would be fine. 

So you did as your father insisted: you focused on your physical therapy and you slowly found your way back to working full-time. You had graduated from crutches to a cane. Your doctor said your knee was healing nicely and right on schedule, which made you glad that you had listened to him and not your father’s initial suggestion of a knee replacement. You still felt a twinge of discomfort and a whispery echo of pain when walking so you relied more heavily on the cane than your doctor or physical therapist might have liked. You may not have remembered everything from your ordeal, but the pain of the initial impact of the bat and afterwards as you were carried to a waiting helicopter to take you to safety was still a very recent and clear memory for you. You doubted you would ever forget it as long as you lived. 

Eventually, you returned to your office and you accepted the well wishes all around. You had no idea what they had been told about your obvious injury or what had caused it but thankfully, no one questioned you. You had been in brief touch with Meredith and the others in the days after your initial surgery back in Colombia but not since then. You had been so focused on your recovery and processing the news of Tim’s death that, truthfully, you hadn’t thought of much else. Even though Luna had been working from your hospital room for a time and she kept you apprised on all developments as well as anything that required your attention, you knew your father had instructed her to keep it all to a strictly need-to-know basis until you were finally ready to fully take up the mantle again. And because you were already dealing with more than enough, you allowed it and didn’t push for more than she told you. So the guilt consumed you when you were informed that Suzanne had resigned and Pat had taken an early retirement to be able to spend more time with her kids and grandkids. Rob had taken a position at another company, though Jerry and Meredith were still there. However, Meredith worked remotely most days, something she had worked out with your father while you had been out. You wondered if it might have been a result of Meredith initially refusing to sign the NDA, a sort of compromise to get her to agree to keeping your ordeal under wraps. You made a mental note to reach out to all of them so you could at least check in to see how they were doing. Jerry was in Research; you’d stop by there later.

As tough as all of that had been to learn and stepping back into the swing of things proved to be a little more complicated than you thought it would be, the most difficult moment had been when you went up to Design. Seeing Tim’s office not being Tim’s anymore had left you reeling. Your father moved fast and had hired his replacement within days. From a professional perspective, you more than understood; the business still had to run after all and Design was one of your most crucial departments. But knowing it and seeing it were two different things. The nightmares were particularly brutal that night. You kept hearing the gunshot, kept seeing one of the kidnappers with their cell phone look over at you afterwards and give you the most terrifying smile. Even the hoodie hadn’t helped. When you looked at it, you didn’t see green anymore but red. A very bold and wet shade of dark red. You tossed it away from you and screamed, bursting into sobs as you rocked yourself back and forth in a soothing motion. 

You had immediately called out sick the next morning and spent the rest of the day in bed, alternating between crying and staring blankly at the TV on the wall. Later on, when you could think clearly again, you gave yourself a stern talking to. You were here, alive, and you had hundreds of people looking to you to lead them. You refused to dishonor Tim’s memory by hiding away in your apartment for the rest of your life, no matter how appealing the option might feel. You could hear your father’s voice in your head again, pushing you, telling you to get back up and go to work, to be the best you could be.

And sure enough, you heard his voice for real the next day when he walked into your office. “What is he doing here?”

You glanced up and looked over where he was pointing to see Owen sitting in one of the chairs off to the side, watching you both. You pressed your lips together and shut the portfolio in front of you. “His name’s Owen, Dad. You know that. And he’s here because I asked him to be.”

Your father looked quite displeased with that. “I dismissed him and the other one last week. We talked about this.”

You let out a quiet sigh and sat back in your chair. “I know but—”

“It’s not a good look and it certainly isn’t good for morale. The cane you still insist on unnecessarily using is bad enough. Do you think people around here aren’t asking themselves or each other why you have this man sitting in your office, watching your every move?” 

You leaned forward and lowered your voice. “Dad, I get that. I do, but I need—”

“Is this why you called out sick yesterday?” You briefly dropped your gaze to your desk. You didn’t really want to talk about that or how despondent you’d been in your bed for hours until your alarm went off, jolting you into grabbing your phone and making the call. Your father’s eyes softened though his tone didn’t. “Honey, what you need is to dismiss him, permanently, and get back to your life, to your work. Don’t forget, you’re at the helm of this ship and everyone’s looking to you to navigate it seamlessly through the waters.”

Your jaw clenched and for the first time in your life, you were about to draw a line in the sand between what he was telling you to do and what you knew you needed to do. “I’m aware of that and I can’t steer the ship unless I feel safe. Owen here,” you nodded in the man’s direction. “Makes me feel safe. With him present, I can focus and get the job done. So, Owen is staying until I say otherwise.”

Your father’s own jaw tightened. “I’m not paying for more—”

“You’re not. I am. And believe it or not, while I’m doing what’s right for me, I’m also doing what’s right for this office, to ensure our complete success. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some reports from Research to review.” You slipped your eyeglasses back on and reopened the portfolio in front of you, scanning the contents.

You glanced up when your father stepped closer to your desk, his voice lower than before though his now angry gaze burned into you. You should have known by dismissing him in that manner after standing your ground, what it would do. “I’m going to strongly suggest that you finish up with Research and take your lunch out of the office. Perhaps outside. It’s a beautiful day and a dose of fresh air might just be what you need.” He gave you a curt nod and then swiftly left the room. Once he was gone, your shoulders deflated and you slumped back into your chair. You knew your father loved you and he only wanted the best for you, for you to succeed, but sometimes you couldn’t help but wonder if it ever came down to the choice of you or the business, who would he choose? He already chose. You blinked the rapidly forming tears in your eyes away at the thought that had popped into your head out of nowhere and carefully got to your feet, reaching for your cane. 

“Owen,” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him immediately stand at attention. “I think we’re going to take my father’s advice. He’s right. It is a beautiful day and I would like to take full advantage of it.” He moved towards you, watching as you moved to the corner and slipped on your light coat. “I’d prefer to be anywhere that isn’t here,” you mumbled, grabbing your handbag. 

You carefully made your way across your office with Owen following right behind you, ready to assist if need be while also keeping an eye out. You called out to your assistant as you passed her by, “Luna, I’m going out for lunch today. Please hold all calls until I return.”

“Of course, Ms. Y/L/N. If Research calls while you’re out, is there anything you would like me to tell them?”

You thought it over for a moment before turning towards the elevators. “Tell them I’m still working on it. Thank you.” And for the first time since you’d started in this company, you left without getting the job done. The thought didn’t sit well with you, you had always been conditioned to complete all of the tasks set out before you, no matter how late you might have to stay to complete them. But at the same time, it oddly made you smile a little.

So here you were, in Central Park on a gorgeous fall day, having taken your father’s advice to heart. You took every single one of your lunches outdoors now unless it was raining or too cold to sit outside for long. You always marveled at the fact that you had lived in New York City for close to two years and you had never once taken the time to stop and notice what surrounded you on a daily basis. You had never taken in the present moment, never taken an opportunity just to be, to sit quietly and listen. The bench you were on by the lake had quickly become one of your favorite spots. You could relax and indulge in the art of people watching, take in all of the sounds, sights, and smells around you. Truth be told, it was the best part of your day. 

Owen stood sentry not too far from you, giving you enough space but also ready to intervene at any moment should he be needed. Despite sitting in a park in the middle of one of the most crime-ridden cities in the country, you felt beyond safe. Owen would never let anything happen to you and being in public, around people living their everyday lives…you felt the safest you had in a long time. A feeling you ended up trying to replicate by looking up Central Park ambience videos on YouTube and playing them while you fell asleep though it didn’t always manage to keep the nightmares away. But you expected that; trauma could be a real stubborn pain in the ass.

But right now, sitting here like this, you were okay. That is, until someone decided to sit down on the opposite side of the bench you were on. All of the times you had sat in this spot, you had been left alone, free to claim this bench as your own for the hour or so you’d spend here. Now, someone appeared not to have gotten the unofficial memo. Out of your peripherals, you saw Owen quickly approaching, most likely intending to tell the stranger to move to another bench, when the person glanced back at him, holding a hand up.

“Relax, man. I appreciate you looking out but I’m not here to hurt her, alright? I’m just here to talk.” The second you heard the voice, your gaze snapped over to the man across from you. You immediately recognized it; it was one you’d heard in your nightmares over and over, telling you to stay with him as you desperately clung to his hand until the kidnappers snatched you away. Was it even possible or were you just imagining this man had spoken to Owen with that voice?

When the man turned back to look at you, you recognized the green eyes immediately and a small lump began to form in your throat. Sure enough, he had a beard, one that looked startlingly familiar when you warily prodded at the memory, trying to recall it. A flash of his face, dirtier than it appeared now, popped into your mind. As if it had been patiently waiting all of this time for you to simply reach out and grab a hold of it. Tears began to burn in the corner of your eyes; it was him.

“It’s you,” you choked out in a whisper without really meaning to. 

The smile you faintly remembered graced his face. “It’s me,” he confirmed.

You stared at him, truly dumbfounded. “How?”  

“I told you I’d find you.” 

You nearly started crying when the familiar words floated up from your subconscious, the phrase you had somehow forgotten in the midst of everything. But you remembered it now, as clearly and vividly as the man sitting before you who had said it. You had been about to pass out in the makeshift surgical room, crying and holding onto him tightly, afraid to let him go. “Will I ever see you again?” “I’ll find you.” 

“I made you a promise and I intended on keeping it.” His green eyes softened slightly, much as they had all of those months ago as he caught every single tear that rolled down your cheeks as you succumbed to the drug beginning to course through your system. “I’ll find you.”

And find you he did.

A little preview of the next installment:

Still sensing your discomfort, Russell immediately lifted up and peeled his shirt off, revealing his bare skin to you for the first time. Immediately, you noticed a small bandage wrapped around his left arm.  “What happened?” You gasped, sitting up and gingerly running your fingers below the bandage line.  He shrugged and looked down at it. “Got shot on a job.” Your jaw dropped and when he glanced back up at you, he must have seen the worry that was consuming you because he immediately chuckled and affectionately cupped your chin. “I’m okay. Besides, that’s not what I wanted to show you.” He took your hand in his and moved it to his other shoulder, guiding your fingertips over skin that was jagged, puckered slightly, and silver-looking. “Shot.” He then moved your hands down his side until it reached a decent sized line that was anything but smooth. “Stabbed.” Your hands moved again to right above his abdomen. “Cut.” They moved once more and ended up on his clavicle. “Cut from an attempted stab.” You winced as he mentioned each injury he had received; they had all been the result of violent means. He moved your hands up to the upper tip of his right ear. “Bullet graze.” There was no scar there to speak of but you could see the tiniest bit of difference between his ears in that area when you looked closely.  He finally brought your hand to rest over his heart, holding it there. “Sofia.” Your brows furrowed in confusion and he smirked over at you. “Cute little waitress in Costa Rica. Gave me one hell of a weekend and then left me high and dry for some young British guy who showed up at the beach and hadn’t yet run out of money.” You scoffed and yanked your hand from underneath his, making him laugh, as you crossed your arms. He moved closer to you, cupping your cheeks and staring into your eyes. “I’m kidding about that last part. The rest, I’m not. I’ve got plenty more on my back and even a few on my legs. A couple more on my arms. We all have scars. They’re just reminders of battles we’ve fought and survived. Don’t be ashamed of yours.” A tear escaped and rolled down your cheek but his thumb caught it. He pressed his forehead against yours and murmured, “You’re beautiful.”    When he looked at you like this, spoke softly to you like this, you genuinely believed him.

A/N: Coming soon. Please let me know if you would like to be tagged for Part 2.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

[wizardfrog69]

'•.¸♡ First kiss ♡¸.•'

Fluff

Masterlist

Enjoy!

Feat. Fukuzawa, Yosano, Atsushi, Kunikida, Ranpo, Chuuya, Kouyou, Arthur, Akutagawa, Gin, Ango, Poe, Karl, Lovecraft, Mark, Hawthrone, Fyodor, Nikolai, Sigma, Jōno, Tetchō, Natsume

Yukichi Fukuzawa:

He definitely had his first kiss before, maybe in his twenties.

He wanted to save his first kiss for someone who would want to be with him forever, but they unfortunately left him.

He would kiss someone after at least a couple of weeks of being together. He prefers to know whether that person wants to marry him or not.

Your first kiss was at his office when you were doing overtime, and you wanted to keep him company.

He's okay at kissing.

Akiko Yosano:

She had her first kiss when she was young, in her teenage years.

Your first kiss was either when you two were on a coffee date or when she was taking care of you (and you weren't under the influence of any medication)

Also she's a very good kisser.

Atsushi Nakajima:

He never had his first kiss and is really nervous to kiss someone.

The first time you kissed he was sweating a lot.

His lips were soft.

Your first time kissing was when you were sitting on a bench or on a wall watching the sunset. (You asked, obviously)

Doppo Kunikida:

He never kissed someone and also wants to wait to kiss someone.

He wants to be with his ideal partner and kiss them I'm the ideal way (just a peck on the cheek or something)

Your first kiss was when he was saying goodbye to you by your door, and he kisses you on the cheek.

Cheek kisses count as proper kisses for him.

Ranpo Edogawa:

He had his first kiss in his early twenties/late teens.

The first time you kissed you were cuddling together.

He tastes very sweet and sometimes he's chewing on sweets while kissing you.

Chuuya Nakahara:

He didn't have his first kiss yet.

You two kissed after a mission you had together.

He tastes like expensive wine and cigarettes.

Kōyō Ozaki:

She never kissed anyone before.

When you first kissed, she was a but surprised that she liked it so much and wanted to kiss you more.

She has really soft lips and she smells like flowers.

Arthur Rimbaud:

Hes just cold.

He did kiss some people in France, and he didn't meet anyone while outside of France.

The first time you kissed was by a fire.

His lips were really cold.

Ryūnosuke Akutagawa:

He's not kissing anyone, ever.

Gin Akutagawa:

She didn't kiss anyone before.

The first time you kissed she was a bit shy but got comfortable quickly.

Sakunosuke Oda:

He's dead sorry 😞

Ango Sakaguchi:

He's too busy for relationships.

But when he found you he couldn't keep himself away.

You first kissed in his office.

Despite never kissing anyone he was surprisingly not bad.

Edgar Allan Poe:

He had his first kiss before, but he was really shy, and he only kissed someone once before.

The first time you kissed him, he froze from shock, and he was just so nervous.

His lips are a bit cracked.

When he got less nervous, he would kiss you back, but he was way too shy to wrap his arms around you.

If karl saw him, he would cry.

Karl:

Karl deserves a little kiss on his cute little forehead.

He gets plenty of them from Poe, but you are gonna give him one aswell cuz he's so adorable.

Howard Lovecraft:

He never kissed someone before.

When you kissed him, his lips were surprisingly cold.

He isn't the worst or the best kisser in the world. He's okay

Mark Twain:

He had like 3 girlfriends in high school, of course he kissed someone before.

He's really good at kissing (he had plenty of practice)

The first time you kissed was he got you ice cream.

Nathaniel Hawthrone:

He never kissed anyone and isn't planning on kissing.

Fyodor Dostoevsky:

He never kissed anyone before and he never really planned on kissing someone.

When you first kissed him, it was a simple peck on the lips, but to Fyodor, it was very special. He never dared to say anything about it, though.

His lips are cracked and dry.

Nikolai Gogol:

He has definitely kissed someone before.

He's a good kisser and very touchy, especially while kissing.

The first time you kissed was in a hallway, his hands were moving all over your body.

He tastes like cotton candy and pastries.

Sigma:

He never kissed anyone.

He was really shy when you first kissed.

You kissed at/after a café or coffee shop, so he tasted like coffee. Or, while at a garden, he tasted like cookies and tea. It was just a small peck on the lips, but it was still really nice, especially because his lips were so nice and soft.

Saigiku Jōno:

He had kissed before but not a lot, like 1 or two people.

He is a good kisser but he doesn't kiss you often.

Also, he likes touching you while kissing you as well.

Tetchō Suehiro:

He never kissed anyone before.

When you first kissed, he tasted like the weirdest mix of flavours ever.

Sōseki Natsume:

Kitty meow meow =^..^= :)

He gets kisses on his forehead when he's a kitty from me.

I love cats <3

༺♡༻ 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 ⋆ 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 ༺♡༻

I wrote everything in one go! Hurray! Now I'm tired from thinking.

Have a wonderful day/night and enjoy the day or evening.

-love. Az

[etherrreal]

"good growing"

Pairing: asahi x fem!reader Genre: fluff Summary: asahi walks into a plant shop and gets more than he bargained for. WC: 2,410 Warnings: reader's favorite color is pink A/N: I want everyone to send me guesses on how many plants you think I have 🥰 if anyone gets close enough (+/-5), I'll drop a picture of my plant set up 🌱 -Luna

I think this Monstera adansonii cutting can be repotted, you think, wiggling it free from the propagation station it was growing in. The roots are well past two inches long, and it's already spitting out a new leaf. You plop it into one of the empty nursery pots you have lined up on the counter behind you, having it join the Neon Pothos and Red Maranta waiting to be potted into new homes.

Potting up cuttings is probably your favorite chore at the plant shop you work at. Something about tucking the little stems into some dirt and preparing them for new homes made your heart happy. That was after you learned that naming them wasn't the best idea and only ended in you mourning little Millie the Watermelon peperomia after you handed her to a very young child who no doubt watered it to death.

A hand slaps against the doorway to your right, making you nearly jump out of your skin, muttering expletives under your breath. Your coworker Eri's head soon pokes out, a grimace already on her face. "Heeey, so, I have good news and bad news."

"Oh no. Good news first?"

"Okay, the good news is that our order of Calathea zebrina came in two days early!"

"That's great! Did some of them get damaged from the cold?" She shakes her head. "Did they tip out of their pots and get smooshed?" She shakes it again. "Then what's the bad news?"

"…They're already infested with spider mites."

You close your eyes, gathering what little strength you still have after working 6 hours already and being 2 hours away from closing. You open them to see your coworker staring at you with hands clasped in front of her chest and eyebrows pinched with worry.

With a deep sigh, you raise your right fist over your left open palm, ready to play a game of rock-paper-scissors with your coworker to decide who's going to do the easy job of writing and sending the email to the parent company to complain and who's going to shove on some gloves and deal with the mites. You're halfway through 'paper' when the bell above the front door rings signaling a customer's arrival.

It's a race between the two of you to slide in behind the register, but you win it, shooting a smug look at your coworker knowing the manager will ask her to be on pest control while you're working up front. If she glares any harder as she stomps to the back, you're pretty sure you'd be dead.

"Hello, welcome to Plant Parenthood! How may I help you today?" you call out to the man who walked in. He is incredibly tall, dodging many of the hanging trailing pants from above like he was walking through a jungle. Once he gets a few steps in, he stops and looks around frantically, looking a mix of lost and overwhelmed.

His dark brown eyes finally land on you, wide and desperate. "Um, I was looking for a small plant for my office."

"Okay! Does your office have any windows for natural lighting?" You ask, already sifting through your mental catalog of plant species.

"Yes, actually, I face an entire wall full of windows."

"Do you know what direction they're facing? East, West?" You both stare at each other for a bit when you realize that was definitely too complex of a question for a beginner. "Can you see the sun rise or set from your windows?"

"Oh, yeah! I can see it rise in the morning, sometimes."

Alright, we're getting somewhere. "So, you probably have an east-facing window which gets really good morning light and indirect light all day."

He cautiously nods, agreeing with you but also not quite knowing how that's important. It didn't matter, you were already roaming the store for the potential match.

You continue spitting out questions for him as you hover around the Calatheas. "Do you think you'd be more likely to forget about a plant and under water it or obsess over it and over water?"

"A mix of both, actually," he says, embarrassed. "I'll obsess over giving it the right amount of care that I'll hover over it every single day and be afraid of watering it in case I water it too much."

You pat the pot of the Calathea ornata, mentally wishing it well on living to see another day. "So you probably need something that can take a bit of healthy neglect?"

"'Healthy neglect?' How can neglect be healthy?'

You chuckle, looking through some well-established Golden Pothos plants. "Some plants can't take the constant babying. They'll sense your fear and keel over just to spite you, like Calatheas. You need a plant that can go a bit without watering and can sit nicely on a table and just /be/."

He hums, and that's when you tense up, realizing he's standing right behind you, looking over your shoulder at the plants on the table in front of you. He smells absolutely delicious. "What are those? Are they easy?"

He's close enough that you can almost feel how his deep voice rumbles. "Yes, and normally I'd recommend these to beginner plant people, but I think I want to find something that'll stay more upright and looks nicer on a surface."

You spot a potential option on a high shelf and start setting up the step ladder to grab one. You only get to take one step up when you see him easily grab one off the shelf without even having to try.

"Something like a ZZ plant. We have two kinds in right now, the classic green that you're holding or the Raven. Which fits more with your decor?" Reaching towards the back of the shelf, you grab a full planter of the Raven foliage and offer it to him.

He psychically weighed the two plants in his hands before handing back the green one. "I think the black one will look better in my space."

"Just so you know, when new stalks come in, they'll appear to be a pretty bright green. That's completely normal. They'll slowly become black as overtime," you ramble on as you're setting the plant back and climbing back down the ladder.

"We also sell cover pots if you want to put him in something more aesthetically pleasing?" You gesture to the table of handmade ceramic pots and saucers sorted in pastel rainbow order.

"Which one do you like?"

"My favorite color is pink, so I'd usually go with that, but what—"

"I'll get that one then."

Is he attempting to flirt? Or have you been single for too long?

You have to catch yourself before you stumble too far down that road. He could simply be too overwhelmed by choice and wants to just go with whatever choice is easiest. Or he's just one of the rare, nice customers who truly trusts your judgment and doesn't mansplain your line of work to you.

"Can I interest you in anything else?" you ask, to which he shakes his head and says 'no thank you.' You type in the product names and begin the checkout process before pausing for the customer information. "Can I grab your name for our system, please?"

"Yes, uh, first name is Asahi, last is Azumane."

"Mmhm, and your phone number?"

He lists off the digits of his number and you can't help the nefarious thought of coming back to his profile to grab his number and shoot him a text. But you must remain professional, and also, you really need this job to pay your bills.

You fill out the rest of the profile and tell him his total, flipping over the payment pad to have him pay. You turn around and busy yourself with writing a care card, not liking the fact that your boss allowed the option for people to add a tip when you only just do your job. It's created some unsavory reactions from people as if you're the one who decides what your POS system is and all of its features.

When you hear the beep from the pad indicating he paid, you turn back around to finish the card as to not be rude. "So, I'm creating a care card so you can have just some basic facts about watering and light needs. A ZZ plant practically takes care of itself since it has rhizomes built into its root system so it doesn't need much besides good light in front of your windows."

"And if I need to come back and get more advice?" You pause to look up at him, eyebrows scrunched in mild confusion. "I can come back and ask you?"

His apprehensive smile is sweet, and his eyes are so gentle and warm as they look at you. It trips you up expeditiously. "Y-yeah," you answer, flipping over the care card to the back and scribbling your name and number onto it before handing it to him, along with the bag his plant was in. "Or you can call or text me directly? You'll get a quicker answer that way, in case of emergencies."

"E-Emergencies?" He stutters, eyes widening like he may have overstepped boundaries. "Y-Yeah, of course. Emergencies only."

Ah fuck. You didn't mean to make it so formal. "Or if you have any questions. Or if you need to know if I'm going to be at work before you swing by. Or just—" you check for anybody at the doorway behind you. "—want to talk, I guess. I wouldn't be opposed to that."

You shoot him a bright smile, hoping to let him know that you reciprocate his interest. His growing smile tells you that he does get the hint, his hand purposefully brushing against yours as he takes the bag from you with a gentle 'thank you.' He wishes you well and makes his way out of the shop, not without glancing over at you once more with a smile so wide it makes you flustered.

With a hand holding your warm cheek, you take a quick moment to look at his client profile, trying to familiarize yourself with his number just in case he decides to call later instead of text. Curiosity gets the better of you and you pull up his order, eyes nearly falling out of your head when you see that he tipped you $20.

There's suddenly snickering coming from behind you and you turn to see Eri standing there with her hand over her mouth as if that'll disguise it. "Oooh, I'm telling your boss you were flirting with a customer."

"What's he going to do? Fire me? I'd love to see him try. There are only three employees here." You turn back to the propagations, grabbing the bag of soil lying on the ground to start potting. "Not to mention, I'd just tell him you used the system to get that one girl's number last month."

"Whoa, hey, let's not get too serious here. I was obviously just joking and will be getting back on spider mite duty while singing your praises to our employer," Eri says, backing out the doorway with her hands held up.

Asahi's face stays stuck in your mind for the rest of the work day, and you find yourself in between tasks cracking a smile at your interaction from earlier. You try not to hover over your phone too much—mostly because you don't want to get scolded by your boss—but you're feeling antsy.

The text doesn't come until later that evening once you arrive home from work, chiming as you set down your backpack and have one shoe kicked off. You grab for it desperately, face ID quickly opening up your phone so you can click the message notification.

[XXX-XXX-XXXX]:: Hello, this is Asahi from earlier. Just wanted to say thank you for all your help today :)

Then a photo comes in and while it loads, you're having a mini heart attack, hoping it's nothing inappropriate. Your feelings are quelled when it finishes loading and reveals a picture of the ZZ plant he purchased today, nestled in its new pink pot on what looks like solid wood desk. The view in the background is stunning. What looks like it could be floor to ceiling windows overlooks the city, the lights of buildings and advertisements blurred in the background.

[000-000-0000]:: It's settling in well! Can't wait to see it in the morning. Got any name ideas?

The smile on your face is so wide it starts to hurt. You jog over to your Raven ZZ plant that's sitting on your living room console table, holding up the green planter in front of your plant covered shelves lining the wall to snap a picture to send to Asahi.

[you]:: I named mine Morticia after the goth queen herself 🖤

[000-000-0000]:: That's a great name! I could name mine Gomez?

It's a bit embarrassing how the implication of your plants being a married couple that makes you plop yourself down on your couch and squeal into your hands, but there's nothing more attractive than a man who can flirt using your interests.

Once you've gathered yourself, you type out a response that hopefully doesn't give away how frazzled you are, and you spend the next 15 minutes exchanging messages with Asahi. It consists mostly of him asking about the plants he saw in the background of your photo and how you got into your hobby. Metaphorically, you're laying on your stomach and kicking your feet, feeling like a teenage girl again.

Although you don't want to stop the conversation, you feel like there's a layer of literal dirt on you along with a sprinkling of spider mites. You keep the conversation going while you put some leftovers to warm up on the stove and into the bathroom while you start getting ready for a shower. It vibrates once more before hopping in, and you decide to check once more.

[Asahi 🌱]:: Maybe we can grab some coffee and you can show me your favorite plant store? I have a lot of empty space in this office to fill and I need an expert to help me choose :)

[you]:: I'm in love with you

[you]:: wanna move in and fill OUR space??

[you]:: I'm an expert in other things, too 😉

[you]:: I'd love to! When are you free 😊

[danfrik]

CAN I GET A WA-HOO??

I'm bacK, yes, you can all see that.

I finally finished this silly little drawing of mine and god I love it, and yes I'm going to make more drawings of them 'cause I have no self-control, also

HELLO, LGBTQ+ COMMUNITY

⚠️Spoilers ahead for both series⚠️

So... about those takes that I have about this two (and a few others that I plan on drawing, don't worry, we'll get there), well, you can see that Phoenix is Crowley while Miles is Aziraphale...

It makes sense, I swear-

At first I was thinking of them but reverse (Phoenix as Aziraphale and Miles as Crowley) because, ngl they could fit either role anyway.

But character-wise? I think this is the best, mostly because of interactions the four of them had on their respective series.

To give an example, this dialogue in Ace Attorney:

It feels strangely similar to Aziraphale's "hereditary enemies" dialogue in the first season.

I might need to write some things down or else I will forget, fuck- (I'm writing this without any plan, help)

But hear me out, I'm not crazy-

Just take a look at Aziraphale's and Miles' fashion sense, that old-timey style they both have (and it's even more obvious with Miles' debut suit), that stubborn personality and undying faith about their side (Prosecutor's Office and heaven), etc.

While Phoenix's and Crowley's personality are more care-free, going their own way, their own side, bluffing away their problems and always chasing or following their "best friend" anywhere.

Phoenix getting a law degree just so he can reach Miles and save him, Crowley always being there for Aziraphale when needed and saving him...

Do you see where I'm getting at?

Also, you remember that scene with the bookshop being on fire and Crowley thinking that Aziraphale was dead?

..."Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth chooses death."

Yeah... the only difference is that Aziraphale didn't dissapear for a whole year and much less left a cryptid ass note behind and it wasn't really his fault-

But the feeling is quite similar, isn't it?

Now, after all the sad or complex feelings aside, let's see more happy things that I noticed:

Crowley's fondness of children / Phoenix's habit of adopting kids anywhere he goes.

Aziraphale liking yellow because it reminds him of Crowley's eyes / Miles finding a particular shade of blue relaxing once in a while.

Crowley's tendency of following Aziraphale like a dog following its owner / Phoenix's constant chasing after Miles (and also having a dog-like personality.)

Aziraphale not admitting that Crowley is his friend (or that he likes his company) / Miles also not admitting Phoenix is his friend (or that he likes his company.)

Yeah... the pattern is getting more obvious the more you look at it...

But I guess this is enough for one post, if you read it all the way, thank you for indulging my delusional brain!

Any comments, requests or... anything, really, will be much appreciated :DD

(If there are some errors, mispellings or anything of the sort, feel free to correct me because even though I've been learning english since I was like five years old, still isn't my first language so yeah👍)

[blooming-violets]

Hurt/Comfort Bingo Card - Dragging themselves along the ground

Bring Your Kids to Work Day

[tasm!peter x fem!reader]

TW: effects of fire and smoke inhalation, descriptions of a dead body, injury of a child, it's a fic about being trapped in a burning building with a child so you'll be reading grim descriptions of that

A/N: I started this bingo card almost exactly one year ago and I've only finished five fics from it since. Slow and steady, baby!

Bring Your Kids To Work Day. Of course, it would happen today, of all days. 

Your office building was nothing special. Four stories and a basement. It paled in comparison to the surrounding towering skyscrapers. The newspaper company you worked for was located on the top floor. A local, independent newspaper that tried to focus on uncovering the truths the Daily Bugle would fabricate. Your company was barely staying afloat as it were. People enjoyed the gossip more than the truth. The struggling business thought today would be a wonderful time to allow their children to come and witness what their parents did each day. There were only about twenty employees total and, over half of you didn’t have children, so there weren’t that many kids in attendance. It was adorable at first. You got to meet your coworkers' kids and even got to snuggle with a five month old. You thought about texting Peter that you were coming down with a terrible case of baby fever but chose to wait until you saw him in person to spring the news on him. 

It was supposed to be a good day. 

Until it wasn’t.

“Hey,” your desk mate, Jenny, tapped you on the shoulder. She had her two twins in tow, Ollie and Ellie, the cutest set of four year olds you think you’d ever witnessed. “Would you mind watching these two while I run down to my car? I left my purse there. I’m parked in the garage just across the street. I shouldn’t be too long. It will take me ten times longer to drag them along with me.” 

You beamed, more than happy to oblige and help fuel your growing need for your own kids, “I would love to!” You turned your attention to the twins and gave them a wink. “I even have a secret stash of lollipops hidden in my desk. I was hoping to find someone to share them with.” 

Both their eyes lit up at the prospect of the sugary treats. 

Ellie squealed, “You can share with us! We’re good at sharing! Right, Ollie?” She elbowed her brother and he happily nodded in agreement. 

Jenny clasped her hands together in thanks, “You’re a lifesaver. I’ll be right back. You two be on your best behavior.” She ruffled the tops of their blonde heads before turning to hurry out of the office. 

You pulled open your desk drawer to show them the pile of lollipops hidden in there. Your inherent sweet tooth was worth any potential cavities. The sugar helped you get through your days of uncertainty, never knowing if the paper would go under or not. You rolled your chair out of the way to let the kids grab what flavor they wanted. 

Soon, the three of you stood around, lollipops sticking out of your mouths, while you waited for their mother to return. 

“Did you guys have fun today?” You asked. 

The twins both hopped into your chair, squished side by side, while you slowly spun them around. 

Ellie nodded, “Yeah. Mommy let us watch Moana on her phone.” 

That wasn’t exactly the answer you were looking for but a room full of introverted writers and stacks of newspapers everywhere wasn’t going to be the most fun for a young child. 

“I love Moana,” you sighed happily. “Maybe I’ll watch that when I go home tonight.” 

“I like Maui,” Ellie replied. “He’s funny. Will your mommy let you watch it on her phone?” 

You were starting to get the sense that Ellie was the dominant one of the twins. Ollie mostly grinned up at you, staying silent, with big, round eyes and cherry red staining his lips from the lollipop. He was adorable and you wanted nothing more than to eat him up. You really needed a baby of your own…

“I don’t live with my mom anymore,” you answered.

“You live alone?” She gasped, looking sad for your wellbeing, as if living alone was the worst thing her little mind could ever think of.  

You laughed, “No. I live with my boyfriend.”

Ellie made a long “ooooo” sound, followed by a fit of giggles, “A boyfriend! Is he handsome? Is he a prince?” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself, knowing Peter would get a kick out of this conversation, “Yes, I think he is very handsome and, no, he’s not a prince. Not in the royal sense, at least.” 

“I think Aladdin is handsome. I’m going to marry him,” Ellie paused to listen to what Ollie was now whispering in her ear. A mischievous grin spread across her face. “Ollie says he’s going to marry you when he grows up!” 

They both burst into high pitched giggles. 

“He thinks you’re pretty like Moana,” Ellie laughed. 

“I would be honored to marry Ollie,” you smirked, growing fonder of these two the more time you spent with them. Jenny had tried to get you to babysit for them before. You think it might be time to accept that offer. Peter and you could play house for a night. “I think he’s as sweet as a lollipop.” 

Ollie’s shoulders rose up to his ears as he shrunk into himself with a bashful smile, “I’m going to be Spider-Man when I turn 5. The real one. Not a pretend one.” His voice was hardly above a whisper and you had to lean forward to catch what he was saying. 

“You mean I’ll get to marry Spider-Man?” You widen your eyes in feign shock. Peter would absolutely love this conversation. You knew he would be just as smitten as you. “That sounds like a dream come true.” 

Ellie nudged his shoulder with hers, “He always says he loves Spider-Man because we saw him in real life one time. He swung above us when we were driving home from preschool. He waved at Ollie. It was so cool. We never saw a real live superhero before that. Mommy made us Spidey masks. I can tell her to make you one, too. Then we can all match.” 

“That sounds amazing. I think Ollie would make a wonderful Spider-Man some day.” 

“Are you guys talking about Spidey?” Harrison, the office college intern, strode up behind you with a coffee mug in hand. “He saved me one time. Some bad guys shoved me into an alley with guns to try and mug me. They were going to shoot me if I didn’t give them everything in my pockets.”

You shot him a death glare for talking about gun violence in front of the young children but he ignored you. He could tell he had them hooked with his story and was enjoying their attention. You rolled your eyes at the young man. You’d heard this tale about a hundred times before. He brought it up whenever he could. He finally had new and excited ears to listen to him. 

“Were you scared?” Ollie asked, his eyes wide . “I never sawed a real gun before.” 

“Yeah, I was so scared, but then something amazing happened.” Harrison knelt down to better hold their attention. “Spider-Man jumped down behind the bad guys. He was as silent as a cat. The bad guys didn’t even know he was there until he started talking.” 

“What did he say?” Ellie whispered, leaning in closer to catch every word. 

“He said, ‘Hey, assho- uh, I mean- hey, buttheads! You mind if I join in the fun?’ and then he started shooting his webs at them until they were all tangled up. He hung them off a street light like some human pinatas for the police to get. Then he came back with my wallet and phone in hand, tossed them over to me, patted me on the top of my head, and told me to enjoy my night.” Harrison ended his story with a satisfied sigh. 

You had asked Peter about the validity of the interns story once. He claimed he couldn’t remember the exact insistence but that it sounded like something he would do. Then he started bragging about how shocked Harrison would be if he knew you were sleeping with the “world famous” Spider-Man. That was when you had shut him up with a kiss before his boasting became too much. 

“I gotta go potty,” Ollie huffed, like it was such a shame to leave a conversation when they were discussing superheroes. You would have to get Peter to meet the kids some day in his suit. They would lose their minds. Actually, you should have him meet Harrison some time too, just to watch the young man fangirl. 

“It’s down the hall,” You pointed him in the right direction. There was only a single bathroom on the floor that the entire office had to share. 

Ollie jumped off the chair and made his way to the bathroom, pausing at the door to look over his shoulder at you. 

“That’s the one!” You called to him. “You found it! Yell if you need any help.”

He smiled and disappeared inside. 

“Did you get Spidey’s autograph?” Ellie asked Harison. 

He shook his head, “Sorry, kiddo. Not that time. I was too shaken up. If I ever meet him again, I’ll make sure to snag one for ya.” 

He tipped an invisible hat to the little girl and made his way back to his desk. Being the youngest in the office, he got stuck with the one directly next to the bathroom, in the spot no one else wanted. You watched him plop down into his rickety wooden chair and smile happily to himself. He was a good kid. Talented, with a lot of potential to be a future investigator and reporter. 

You finished your lollipop and tossed the stick in the trash, “What else did you like doing while you were here besides watching Moana and talking about Spider-Man?” 

Ellie shrugged, “Mommy let us color on some newspapers. I drew a cat farting out rainbows. We wanted to make a fort out of all the stacks of papers but she said it was too dangerous and might fall. She didn’t want us to get crushed. Can we look out the window to see if we can see her? I want to wave to her.” 

“Sure. Come on,” You took her tiny hand and helped her hop down from the chair. 

The best features of the old building were its large windows. They ran from the floor to the ceiling and had a beautiful arch at the top. They were the kind of windows you could happily stare out of for hours. 

Ellie pressed her nose up against the pane, her breath fogging up the glass, “I don’t see her yet.” 

You looked down, searching the sidewalks for Jenny, and shook your head, “Me either. I’m sure she’ll be back any moment. Keep an eye out for her.”

Your voice trailed off as something caught your attention. Two people were sprinting down the street, a look of sheer terror plastered on their face. Even from four floors up you could easily see how scared they were. The hairs on the back of your neck suddenly sprung to life as you watched more people round the corner. All running. All terrified. You couldn’t hear the screams behind the thick glass but you could see the way their faces contorted. 

They were screaming for their lives. 

You felt a strange disconnect between the people on the ground and yourself. Like watching a movie inside of a dream. They felt like they were in a different reality from your own. Behind the crowd appeared a giant ball of moving fire. It took a few seconds for your brain to process what you were seeing. The closer it got, the more you realized it wasn’t just fire. It was a man encased in the flames. At first you thought maybe he was on fire but then you realized he was the fire. He was controlling it and bending it to his will. He was what the people were running from. He was the danger they feared. 

He tossed fistfulls of balled up flames towards the running people and haphazardly shot them off into the windows of every building he passed. He was creating a flaming destruction in his wake. A villain who wanted to watch the city burn. 

And your building was next in line. 

Your hand immediately went to grab onto the back of Ellie’s shirt as your own reality finally caught up to crash with the people below. You dragged her down onto the floor just in time for the big window to explode into shards of flying glass and rain down over the tops of your heads as a ball of fire burst to life against the back wall. The wood paneling went up in flames in a matter of seconds. People were screaming as chaos broke out. They were grabbing their children and sprinting towards the nearest exit. Loose pieces of newspaper floated down around you, some igniting on fire mid flight, and sizzling to soot before they hit the ground. Glass fell from your hair to trickle down under your collar and rolled down your back as you pushed yourself onto your elbows. Ellie was whimpering beside you, tears filling her eyes, and she reached a shaky hand out to hold onto yours. You gripped it tightly, noting that she had a small, bloody cut across her cheek from where the glass hit her. 

“It’s okay,” you shouted to her. The wailing sounds of the fire alarm bursting to life deafened your words. You weren’t even sure Ellie could hear you but you were speaking more for yourself anyway. “It’s okay. You’re okay. We have to get up quickly and get out of here.” 

Tears brimmed in her eyes and you read her lips form the words, “You’re bleeding…” She pointed a fearful finger near your forehead. 

You reached up and felt a large, jagged piece of glass sticking out from over your eyebrow. You gripped onto the shard and pulled it from your skin. A rush of warm blood waterfalled down over your cheek, blurring into your eyes. You didn’t feel any pain. 

“We have to get up,” you shouted to her again. 

Ellie grabbed onto your hand as you both scrambled to your feet. 

An old, wooden building and a floor covered in newspapers were no match for the ravenous fire. It was rapidly engulfing everything it could devour. In the short amount of time you spent on the ground, half your office was gone. Between the blinding, red hot glow of the flames and the white flashing lights of the fire alarm, mixed with the deafening sounds, you were overwhelmed and disoriented. 

“Stairs…” You mumbled to yourself, trying to focus your panicked thoughts. “We have to get to the stairs.” 

Thick black smoke was already starting to fill the small space. Whatever limited vision you had seconds ago was quickly dissipating. You caught a glimpse of your boss ushering out the last few remaining employees out of the door. His arm motioned for you before a wall of smoke blocked him from view. At least you had the right direction. 

You tried your best to duck down low as you dragged Ellie behind you, keeping a death grip on her tiny hand, as you forged towards the direction of the stairs. She kept planting her heels into the ground and tugging against you. She was screaming something that couldn’t be heard over the wailing alarm. 

You yanked her by the arm up to your side and wrapped her in a tight embrace, “Stop fighting me! It’s okay! I’m going to get us out!” 

“Ollie!” She cried. “We have to get Ollie!” 

Your heart dropped into your stomach. She was right. 

Ollie was still in the bathroom. 

Your eyes scanned the room. You couldn’t see more than two feet in front of you. The smoke was starting to irritate your eyes. They burned and watered, the tears falling freely down your cheeks. 

You scooped Ellie up into your arms and sprinted as fast as you could towards the exit. Your thigh crashed into the corner of a flaming desk, sending your body jerking in the opposite direction, but you ignored the sharp pain and did your best to blindly correct your course. If you could just pass Ellie off to your boss then at least you wouldn’t have to worry about her safety while you tried to find Ollie. 

You stumbled to the exit, nearly slamming into the wall, only to find your boss already gone. You tried to pull open the door but reeled back when you felt white hot, searing pain burn into your palm. You couldn't hold back the scream of shock that burst out of you. The metal handle was impossible to hold onto with your bare skin. Thinking fast, you tried to wrap the bottom of your shirt around the handle to pull open the door. The pain still burned through the thin cotton but you managed to open it just enough to stick your foot through. You kicked the door open the rest of the way and shoved Ellie into the stairwell.

“Go down the stairs and out the door!” You shouted at her. “I’ll be right back!” 

The stairwell was pitch black apart from the flashing white light of the fire alarm. It made it difficult for your eyes to gain their bearings, making you feel off balance, like walking through a funhouse at a carnival. Ellie stood frozen in place. Her entire body was shaking with fear. Black soot was staining her skin. Her eyes were watering, either from crying or the smoke, as they illuminated with each flash of the light. Her pant leg was soaked through with urine pooling by her feet. At some point she had lost a shoe. You knew she was too petrified to move. 

“Ellie, go!” You tried to give her a small shove, knowing how important timing was to get to safety, but she didn’t budge.  

“Ollie’s scared!” She cried. “He’s scared. We have to get him. Don’t leave us! I want mommy. I want mommy. Where’s my mommy?” 

There was no time to think. No time to argue with her. No time to convince her. You were afraid that if you left her there, she wouldn’t move, or get lost, or trapped. You knew children’s instincts in fires were often to hide instead of run. You didn’t trust this 4 year old to make it out on her own. She would get lost in the crowds below. Swept away in a sea of people. You couldn’t leave her. The risk was too high. She had to come with you. 

You lunged for her hand, forcing the two of you down to your knees to army crawl under the smoke. It was getting harder to even see your two hands in front of your face. Sweat dripped down your back. Your lungs were starting to ache as they filled with toxic gas. Both you and Ellie kept coughing but you dragged her along beside you, refusing to let her out of your grasp. You knew if you let go, you wouldn’t be able to find her again. 

The wooden floors were heating up. Fire raged above you. It was on the ceiling now. Eating everything in its path. You prayed that Ollie was still inside the bathroom and that he was unharmed. You couldn’t see, struggled to breath, and your body was reaching unhealthy temperatures. 

Down the hall. 

That’s all you had to get to. Down the hall and first door on the right. 

A charred, wooden beam fell from the ceiling and landed directly against your right arm. The flames licked at your exposed skin as the wood splintered and cracked. You flinched away from the pain, nearly crawling on top of Ellie to get away from the heat. Fire was on nearly every side of you now. The left, the right, and above all glowed orange in the darkness. Orange every way you looked. It seared your retinas until all you could see was the blinding light. The heat was forcing you down as low as your body could manage, pressed tightly against the floor. 

You had no idea where in the office you were now. You didn’t know if you had traveled one foot or twenty. You just kept inching forward. You knew if you reached the back wall, you would have gone too far. 

This was a mistake. You should have gotten Ellie out first. You were leading her straight to her death. The flames would eat you both alive. 

The noise all faded into a constant loud roaring in your ears until it dulled into nothing like your ears decided to stop working. Instead, you felt the rumbling noise in your chest. Your brain was vibrating in your skull. Smoke blocked out the orange the further you crawled into the fire. It snuffed out everything in its wake. All you could see was black and all you could hear was your own blood pounding in your ears. It was like being in a terrible nightmare. If you closed your eyes, maybe you would wake up somewhere else. You felt like you were floating. Drifting. It was getting hard to breathe. You’d forgotten what fresh air felt like. Ellie was getting slower, too. You were having to drag her more. She was smaller than you. She would die first, you thought. 

A canary in the coal mine. 

You had to get to Ollie. And then what? You could hardly drag Ellie this far. There was no way you would be able to pull along two terrified children all the way back to the exit. There was no guarantee it would even still be accessible. This side of the building had no fire escapes. You’d get to the bathroom and then you’d be stuck. The three of you would be trapped inside. The fire was spreading too fast. You weren’t able to outrun it. 

Your hands bumped into something on the floor. The bump was enough to recenter your attention. You felt around with your free hand wondering if you had gone too far and hit the back wall. You fumbled around you with touch being your only working sense. This was no wall. It was something soft. Fleshy. Your hand found fingers. You traced up their arm and over their shoulder until you found a face. You dragged your body closer and tried to see through blurry, smoke filled eyes who it was. It was only when you were centimeters from their face, your noses touching, that you could make out any features. 

Harrison was staring back up at you. His bright blue eyes were unblinking. His face still. You shook his shoulder but his eyes showed no signs of life. Half of his face was bright red and outlined in charred black from where the fire had devoured his flesh. It had eaten him nearly down the skull. There was no breath in his lungs. No life in his eyes. He was gone. 

Dead. 

He had just turned 20 last month. 

Harrison’s desk was right next to the bathroom. 

That was the only thought you allowed yourself to think. Your emotions had disappeared along with your hearing. Your mind was set on a single track. 

Get to the bathroom. 

That was it. 

That was the goal. 

You crawled over Harrison’s body. Your knees sunk into his chest, feeling the crack of his ribs underneath you, as you pushed your weight off him to propel yourself forward. Ellie was like a dead weight, a ball and chain, attached to your arm that you had to drag along with you. Her head was lolling limply back and forth as you pulled her over the body after you. She wasn’t moving on her own anymore. Maybe she was dead, too. Maybe you were dragging the corpse of a child around. You didn’t know. You didn’t care. You just had to get the two of you to the bathroom. Dead or alive.

You used your hand to feel along the wall for the bathroom door. The old wallpaper bubbled under your skin. A part of your brain was telling you that what you were touching was extremely hot and burning your flesh but, since you no longer felt anything, you didn’t stop until your fingers brushed over a hinge. 

You scrambled around for the handle, gripping it tightly, and yanked open the door. Heavy black smoke immediately flooded into the tiny room. You quickly pulled Ellie and you onto the tiled floor and slammed the door closed with your foot. You lay staring up at the white ceiling being clouded with rising smoke. Your lungs sucked in the cleaner air. The fire hadn’t touched this room yet. Besides the smoke that you let in when you opened the door, it was relatively untouched. 

An oasis amongst the desert sands. 

You slowly let your eyes wander into the corner where Ollie sat huddled. His legs were pulled tight against his chest and his arms were clinging onto them. He stared at you with wide eyes, glancing tearfully between your soot covered face and his motionless sister. 

A surprised laugh fell from your lips which quickly turned into another coughing fit. You rolled onto your side, hacking up black saliva over the white floor. 

“You’re alive,” you croaked out to the scared little boy. 

You forced yourself to sit up. Wads of wet paper towels were lined up on the ground. You realized Ollie had stuffed them under the door to stop the smoke. Smart kid. They have been pushed to the side when you opened the door. You quickly bent down to shove them back into the cracks, keeping the smoke at bay, and then turned to find Ellie. 

She looked so small face down on the floor. Her pink t-shirt and blonde hair were now completely black. You rolled her onto her back in a daze. It was hard to think. Hard to move. You felt like your limbs were full of wet cement. You stumbled onto your feet, your head spinning with a pounding headache, and grabbed some brown paper towels from the dispenser. You tried to run them under the sink but the faucet wasn’t working so you dunked them into the toilet water instead. Then you turned to Ellie and began wiping the soot from her mouth and her blocked nostrils. Her chest rose with short, labored breaths. Her eyes were caked close from the greasy smoke residue so you tried your best to wipe them clean too. She was still alive but she wouldn’t be for much longer if she didn’t get out of here. There was no way you’d be able to carry her body back through those horrors with Ollie in tow. You were too weak. Too sick. The three of you were trapped. This would be your fiery coffin. 

“Spider-Man will save us.” 

Ollie’s tiny whisper hardly reached your broken ears. You gazed through half closed lids over your shoulder to look at the boy. You were starting to forget who he was or what his name was. His words felt foreign to you. All your thoughts were moving at a sluggish pace. 

Spider-Man. 

Save us. 

Yes…yes…Peter. 

You fumbled to grab your phone out of your pocket. Of course, Peter would save you. There was still hope. 

The black grime coating your fingers wouldn’t let you use the touch screen and you let out a frustrated cry.

“Siri!” You whined, the desperation heavy in your tone. “Call Peter Parker.” 

“Calling Peter Parker,” her pleasant, robotic tones echoed back to you. It was a stark contrast to the nightmare you were currently living through. 

You sunk against the wall, slumping into yourself, feeling like the world was spinning. Peter would know about the man with the fire. He would know he was on your street. He would know it was your building. He would have been searching for you right now. You’d just have to stay awake long enough for him to find you.

It rang twice before his panicked voice answered, “Where are you? Tell me you're safe.” He sounded breathless and far away to you, like listening to an echo bouncing off an underpass. Your body was starting to shut down. 

“Bathroom. Trapped.” It was all you could say before what little vision you had left started to fade. You didn't have much time left. The oxygen in the room was running out. 

A small hand wrapped over your wrist as the boy snuggled up to your side. 

Ollie. His name was Ollie. 

Ollie and Ellie. The cutest set of twins you had ever seen. 

It was supposed to be a good day. 

“Spider-Man is on the phone,” you mumbled to the frightened child. “Talk to him. He’ll keep…keep…keep you safe…he’ll find you…” 

Ollie picked up the phone. He was speaking into it but you couldn’t make out anything he was saying. You were floating away to wherever Ellie’s mind was currently being held. Someplace away from here. Away from the flames. Someplace without smoke. Somewhere you could breathe again. 

You were going to close your eyes. Just for a minute…one, little, short minute…

A crashing rumble of bricks being smashed startled you back to life. You tried to take in what was happening but your brain was stuck in a haze. One of your hands was clutched onto the front of Ellie’s shirt and the other was holding onto Ollie. Someone else was in the room with you. It was smokier than it had been when you had closed your eyes. Time had passed, that much you knew, though you were unsure how much. Something was breaking a wall. Bricks were flying. It was filling the room with white smoke to compete with the black and blocking out whatever sunlight was attempting to push through the holes being created. 

“It’s okay,” Ollie spoke into your ear as he curled up next to your side, noticing that you were awake again. “Spider-Man is here. He’s saving us just like you said.” 

Peter. 

Your sweet, beautiful Peter. You had no idea when he got here or how but he was here and he was breaking apart the side of the building with his bare hands so they could escape. 

You tried to focus your attention on Ellie. Her eyes were open now and she was curled onto her side. She was weak but somehow she was still alive.

The masked face of Spider-Man appeared in your line of sight. His hands were on either side of your cheeks as he cradled your face in his palms. 

“Stay with me. Don’t you drift off again. I’m getting you out of here.” 

There was a steadfast determination in his voice. Many months ago he once told you that he refused to ever let you die. You had laughed at him then, telling him that was impossible, not even Peter Parker could control death. He had told you it didn’t matter. He would fight Death himself with nothing but his two fists if it meant getting to hold onto you for another day. 

He had meant it then and he was proving it now. 

“Get the kids first,” you croaked. “Get Ellie to an ambulance.” 

“I can hold all of you at the same time!” He bent down to scoop Ellie into his arms. She offered no resistance but was too weak to hold onto him herself. Her head flopped against his shoulder and her eyes closed. Ollie leapt up into his other arm and clung tightly around his neck. 

He couldn’t hold all of you and manage his webs at the same time. He was lying to himself and to you. 

“Can you get on my back?” He tried to fight the reality he was being faced with. He didn’t want to leave you behind but you both knew the children needed to be evacuated first. As stubborn as he was, not even Peter would choose you over them. Children came first. Always. That was the life and sacrifice of a hero. 

“Peter,” you ordered, forcing what little energy you had into your words. “Take the kids. Hurry. You’re wasting time.” 

The fire was at the door. You could feel its heat on your back as you leaned against the wall. The smoke was pushing through the cracks. The wet paper towels had long since failed their duty at keeping it at bay. Time was slipping through your fingers.  

“I’ll be right back!” He shouted. “Stay alive or I’m going to kill you.” 

Then he was gone. 

The smoke was becoming too much. The heat was getting too strong. It forced you to drag yourself across the floor towards the hole in the wall. You let your head hang outside, gulping at the fresh air as the black smoke rose above you. The smell of singed, burning hair hit your nose. You could see the ends sizzling orange from your peripheral vision. You were starting to feel pain again as some of your senses slowly returned. You looked down at the pavement four stories below you. It was getting too hot to bear. Your skin was screaming. A part of you wanted to keep dragging your body into the fresh air even if it meant you’d fall. For that one second of falling, you’d be free from the oppressive heat. Behind you meant death. In front of you meant death. 

All that you had left was Peter. 

At least the kids were out. If you were able to accomplish anything today, it was that. 

Even if Peter did most of the work. You were able to start what he could finish. 

Your lids felt heavy. Your breath was weezing. Your chest ached and your right fist was clenched close from the pain. The skin on your palm was black and peeling from where you had gripped onto the burning door handle. You wanted it all to be over. 

The pavement never looked so enticing. 

It was supposed to be a good day. 

You dragged yourself further out the hole so your entire chest was now hanging over the edge. Your body was craving the clean air. It desperately wanted to escape the heat. You pulled yourself a little further. Inch by inch. Flirting with the idea of death. 

“Oh, no you don’t!” 

The scruff of your shirt was balled into a fist as you were lifted upright into the safety of Peter’s arms. You were swinging through the air. The wind in your face never felt so delicious as it slid down your shriveled lungs. He was holding you tightly to his chest and using one arm to swing you away from the burning building. 

Tears sprung into your irritated, red eyes. 

You were out. Free from the fire. Free from the smoke. Alive. 

“I got you, baby,” he chirped against your ear. “I got you. I’m not letting you go anywhere I can’t follow.” 

He landed softly on a rooftop a few blocks from the chaos. There were people who still needed his help. A villain to be fought. Damage control be done. 

But he didn’t care about any of that. 

Peter placed you delicately onto your bottom on the roof and he knelt down in front of you, tugging off his mask to get a proper look. 

“I’m going to bring you straight to the hospital but I need to see you first,” he whispered. “I just need to look at you…make sure you’re still here with me.” 

He slipped his hands free from his gloves to push back your singed hair from your face. He grabbed his mask to carefully wipe away some of the soot from your eyes. 

“You look like you clawed your way straight outta hell,” he smiled down at you but his eyes held his real feelings of worry behind them. He looked like he was on the verge of tears. You both knew how close to losing you he had come today. 

You cracked a half hearted smile of your own, “I think I did.” Your voice was unrecognizable to your own ears and a constant, high pitched shrieking sound kept ringing in your head. 

“You’re okay,” he asked. 

You weren’t sure if it was meant as a question for you to answer or a statement he was speaking to help ease his anxious heart. 

“I’m okay,” you replied. “I’m alive, at least.” 

The further away you got from the fire, the more pain you started to feel. It wasn’t just your hand that was hurting now, the pain was shooting all the way down your back, and your right arm felt stiff and unable to move.

“I told you I wouldn’t ever let you die. That’s not allowed. We’re going to die together, hand in hand, snuggled up in bed like The Notebook.” Peter leaned his forehead against your own and took a deep breath. 

“Okay,” you mumbled, lost in the moment of softness, until the thought of Ellie and Ollie crashed to the surface. You gasped and jerked away, horror etched onto your face. “The twins!” 

He tugged you to him, kissing your temple, “They’re safe. I send them off in an ambulance. I think the little boy will be fine. The girl looked like she was suffering from serious smoke inhalation. I had to give her CPR when I showed up. She wasn’t breathing. I got her to wake up. She’ll be seen right away. Speaking of which-” He stood back up, pulling his gloves and mask back on. “The hospital is exactly where we need to get you.” 

Peter scooped you back into his arms and hopped onto the ledge of the roof, “You ready?” 

“I’m ready.” 

[beomgyuslilracha]

just admit you hate me ☾.*

⊹ pairing: kang taehyun x f! reader

⊹ genre: enemies (?) to possible (?) lovers

⊹ warnings: kind of an asshole taehyun and like two swear words total

⊹ wc: 2.1k

summary: five years after graduating high school, you had officially reached the lowest point of your life. after having been let go from your perfectly stable job, it was as if every business in all of seoul had a personal agenda against hiring you. at this point, you were desperate to accept any job that would have you ... even if it meant losing that last ounce of self-respect you had left in your body.

if you were introduced to the opportunity of traveling back in time for the sole purpose of wringing your past self by the neck ... you would take that chance in a heartbeat.

your leg was mindlessly bobbing up and down as you sat anxiously in your seat, and you were quite sure that every crevice of your body was producing sweat by this point.

it had been hours since you first arrived, and, with every name that was called into the foreboding office, the closer you came to throwing up in the suspense of hearing your own.

as yet another woman had her name called out to enter the room, you were officially left as the last remaining applicant.

being left to wallow all alone in your thoughts, you could only begin to imagine that your life would have turned out far differently had you just listened and prioritized your education over a career.

who in their right mind thought 18-year-olds were capable of making such life-altering decisions?!

now here you were, years later and at the end of your rope, awaiting your turn among the many other applicants - that were surely higher qualified than you - applying for the same assistant position.

ever since you were let go from your last job, it had been an absolute nightmare for you to merely attempt finding another. for the same exact reason that you had been laid off, companies were suddenly more determined to find and hire employees with far more experience and education than a young girl with only a high school diploma to her name.

despite the years of experience working as a dutiful employee at your last company, you had been rejected at approximately twenty interviews you applied for. of course, those were just the ones you heard back from; there was about ten other positions that completely denied you from your resume alone.

you were beginning to lose all hope that you'd be able to find another job before you turned thirty.

chaewon, your best friend and roommate, encouraged you time and time again that "something big" was coming for you and that you should "keep your head up", but you could only hold on to such words for so long. eventually, even your optimistic best friend was going to have to face the same reality as you ...

your life has reached a dead-end.

the sound of the door opening once more had your head instinctively snapping towards it in attention. this was it .. it was officially going to be your turn.

distracting your mind for a brief moment, you couldn't help but notice the deep blush that covered the cheeks of the woman who entered before you. in fact, thinking about it now, you realized that a lot of the women had left with the same red color on their face.

when you first researched the company to apply, you had read that the ceo was rather young in age. in which case, based on the reactions of every woman that had left the office, you were now all the more intimidated.

"l/n, y/n?"

thank God your stomach was stronger than the rest of you, or else the sound of your name would have truly induced vomit.

you stood up quickly, though your legs felt entirely like jell-o and made it difficult to walk straight without shaking. you only prayed that the woman waiting for you didn't notice for herself.

today, you were interviewing at the relatively new k company for the position of assistant to the ceo.

it was a much bigger leap compared to your last job, but, at the rate you were going, you would apply to absolutely anything just for a source of income.

"mr. kang will see you now," the woman's stern voice spoke through your thoughts, her words awakening a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach.

kang?

the familiarity of the name suddenly had you reminiscing the old days of your high school years. you could vividly picture the image of your senior class president, the one you held an intense disliking for.

regardless of having been in the same class for the entire four years you attended high school together, it was as if he refused to acknowledge your existence at all.

not that you deliberately went out of your way in attempts to be friends with the boy, you truly couldn't care less, but you certainly remembered every time he had pushed past you in the hallways without a single apology, deliberately ignored you during student council discussions, and most especially that cold stare he always gave you any time your eyes met.

the same one that he was giving you now, in fact.

your entire body tensed as you felt your heart leap into your throat, unable to fully process the situation at hand.

you had just entered the office ... of the kang taehyun, who you strongly disliked .... interviewing to be his assistant ...

as surprised as you wanted to pretend to be, you honestly couldn't bring yourself to even feign it.

of course taehyun was the ceo at the very company you were desperately applying to be an assistant for. that was just the point your dead-end life had reached.

life was truly cruel, wasn't it? seemingly against you at any opportunity it could find..

"are you planning to stand there the whole time?"

you blinked back to reality, having forgotten entirely that this was still an interview process that you needed to be professional for - regardless of who was sat in the chair across from you.

"repeat your name for me." he told you firmly after you had taken your seat, completely emotionless as he flipped over your one-page resume on his desk.

swallowing the nervous lump in your throat, you repeated your name. you wondered if he held any recognition for you the way you had for him.

if he did, he certainly failed to show it.

"and you graduated from [name of high school here]?"

there was that lump in your throat again. you felt your shoulders instinctively slouch, having hoped your level of education wouldn't have become a point of discussion — especially where you were educated.

you could only mentally prepare yourself for any incoming ridicule he may give you upon realizing the circumstance for himself.

"yes," you answered simply, your eyes downcast to his desk to avoid whatever look he may send you - whether it be one of pity or amusement.

because why wouldn't he?

the two of you graduated the same year, yet here you were in extremely opposite stages of life. where taehyun has already reached the top of his, you were still desperately clinging for life at the very bottom of yours.

his eyes flickered to you momentarily, but he made no comment.

"any extracurricular activities?"

the room was growing warmer by the second. these questions were already answered on your resume - which he hadn't looked away from this entire time - so you couldn't understand why he was asking them again.

a part of you wondered if it was his own way to subtly remind you of who he was.

not that you could possibly forget the face of the one who treated you worse than the dirt under his shoes.

"i was treasurer of the student council in my senior year," you answered, your gaze shifting down to the floor in preparation of his next words.

he was bound to mention something now.

"reason for leaving last job?"

. . .

your eyes shifted upward, looking to see taehyun's rather bored expression still staring down at your resume. it was as if he were a frozen image - the only sign that he moved at all being the slow blinking of his eyes.

... that bastard.

he didn't recognize you at all, did he?!

you could have scoffed aloud at the realization, unable to believe that he had absolutely no recollection of you whatsoever.

not that you believed you had any profound effect on his life in any way, but you only assumed that someone would at least vaguely remember the person they had treated terribly for four years of their life.

in which case, you were in more surprise that he even acknowledged you as a person at all now. for all you knew, you could have been entirely invisible in his eyes.

"are you going to sit there and ignore the question?"

your eyes widened as you cleared your throat awkwardly. "no, sorry. i was ... just thinking." what an awful excuse. "well, um, they believed that i did not hold enough education or experience to renew my contract at their company."

taehyun nodded his head, though his features remained cold and emotionless, causing a twisting feeling to stir in the pit of your stomach. his stare was blank and uncaring as they met yours for the first time, but, nonetheless, he continued with his questions.

ultimately, as the interview reached its end, you came to the understanding that this was a complete waste of your time. he held not one sliver of interest in anything you had to say, and you certainly did not want to be stuck working for him anyway.

all you had done was allow the one person you disliked most in the world to see how miserable your life had turned out. hell, he had the pathetic resume of your life to prove it to him in writing.

then again, it wasn't as if he remotely cared.

"alright then. do you have any questions for me?"

millions.

do you seriously not remember me?

do you hate me?

am i even a person to you?!

"no i do not." you truly just wanted to escape that cursed office as soon as you possibly could. it was beginning to feel more and more confined with each painful second that passed.

taehyun stood from his desk, officially declaring the interview over, and silently gesturing for you to follow his lead.

with a forced smile and a small bow, you silently bid your goodbye and mentally prayed that you would never have to come back to that building ever again for as long as you lived.

you couldn't even remotely understand what had those previous women blushing so much when kang taehyun was nothing but an emotionless asshole.

perhaps, even after all these years, there was just something about you that had him compelled to disregard you and treat you so awfully.

"i do have one more question," he spoke up, pulling you from your thought and forcing you to freeze in your tracks before you could turn around and finally leave.

the office door seemed so far away now...

"how soon can you start?"

your eyes widened and that sick feeling in your stomach returned. somehow, these words made you feel worse than when that woman had called your name in the first place. "e-excuse me?"

"i asked how soon you can start," he repeated, still appearing just as bored as he has been from the very beginning.

despite him having not shown even the slightest bit of interest, asking you the most mundane questions he could possibly think of, and causing you to feel uncomfortable the entire time ... did you seriously get the job?!

regardless, you would never subject yourself to accepting the position.

forcing yourself to work for the one you despised most, who didn't even remember who the hell you were ?! absolutely fucking not.

"i can start tomorrow."

God, you were pathetic.

you couldn't believe you were even standing with how you lacked a spine.

but could you blame yourself?! you practically dried up your savings account up to this point and clearly no one else had any intention of hiring you!

desperate times .... call for desperate measures.

he nodded simply, still without a single muscle movement in his face indicating any sign of emotion. "i will email you with the schedule later this evening."

with a forced smile, feeling like you practically sold yourself for a paycheck, you gave a halfhearted bow and prepared to leave in as normal of a pace you could manage - so as not to be so obvious with how you were dying to go home and wallow in despair for the remainder of the evening.

"oh, and by the way," his voice called out to you once you reached the doorway.

it was like he knew how desperately you wanted to leave and was doing anything in his power to torture you.

you turned around, forcing yourself to look your new boss in the eyes - allowing you to see the first facial expression on those perfectly sculpted features of his.

he was smirking. he was fucking smirking.

"it was good to see you again, y/n."

masterlist

a/n:

HI, SO I'M NOT DEAD !! i just had a very busy life with so much happening. buuuuut i do have a lot of unfinished drafts for each member that i worked on every time i had a moment of inspiration. i was originally working on a hyuka one, but then ... after the concert .... taehyun just came out of nowhere and started bias wrecking so hard. and then my mind ran wild and i decided to write this. it's not very well written whatsoever, but i needed to practice so i can get back to writing more often. i also left this open for continuation if anyone is remotely interested in seeing this progress - don't be afraid to let me know :,)

and for anyone wondering about you don't go to parties, I DID NOT ABANDON IT !!! i still have full intention of continuing, but i MIGHT take a little while to get back into it because i had too many ideas going in all different directions that i was unsure how to continue with where i left off.

in the meantime, i did want to at least post something so i didn't disappoint anyone <;/3 i hope everyone is well !! and pls continue to look forward to more !!

~

permanent taglist:

@human-misery @dongmeiii @softcabur @marekmybeloved @aishidaishi @taekwondoes @wccycc @jjhmk @mjlasagna @eclecticeggknightpsychic @yjusei @beachbabe4ever @laylasbunbunny

[anylady-fics]

Good in bed | Seungmin x F Reader

Summary:

[…] Everyone has that one colleague at work they like less or have trouble with, but fuck… you were blessed. Seungmin was kinda new at the company, and he was your backup and work buddy for the most complex projects, with the biggest clients. You understood that for these things to work out, the people involved had to come to an agreement. In six months, that never happened. […]

*** this work is for adult audiences. Minors DNI ***

Warnings: Angry sex, rough sex, oral sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (dont do it), creampie

4,727K words - cross posted on ao3

Ⴡ Masterlist

Everyone has that one colleague at work they like less or have trouble with, but fuck... you were blessed.

Seungmin was kinda new at the company, and he was your backup and work buddy for the most complex projects, with the biggest clients. You understood that for these things to work out, the people involved had to come to an agreement. In six months, that never happened.

He always disagreed with you, talked back about your ideas, and tried to make your work seem inferior to his. He had this unique talent for making you act like a child, just like him.

Your boss always found amusement in this, mixing your ideas with Seungmin’s, and somehow things worked out fine. But never because you two could actually talk and decide on the best approach, no. You tried many times—it was impossible.

The worst part? He was so damn attractive... cocky and an asshole. Totally your type. The kind of person you'd love to make get on his knees for you, and that thought haunted you sometimes. But you were always so mad at him…

Then there was that one time. Just once.

You were working late with him, yelling at each other, throwing around a lot of curse words until you finally snapped. You stood up, ready to leave the office because you just couldn’t stand being around him anymore. Seungmin stood up too and grabbed your arm, stopping you from leaving, yelling something about the deadline. You shoved him, and for a split second, you considered throwing a chair at him because you were shaking with anger.

You thought you could just get away from him, but he grabbed your arms and pushed you against the wall, still yelling, really close to your face. Then you realized that you were also grabbing his clothes, his collar, specifically.

A few seconds of dead silence… then a kiss that made you lose your breath. He pressed you harder against the wall and kissed you like he either wanted to fuck you or kill you—maybe both. It was, without a doubt, the best moment you’d had together in months of working with him. He wasn’t talking, and for once, you were in sync. But it didn’t last. As soon as both of you realized what was happening, he stepped back. You both blushed, embarrassed, and neither of you had the guts to say anything. You just packed up your things and left. Of course, you never brought it up again. Neither did he. That was two months ago.

Since then, things between you two got even weirder, even more tense. Unconsciously, you both avoided being alone in the same room, especially when no one else was at the office. But well, fate likes to play little pranks, doesn’t it? Impressive.

You got an email from your manager, letting you know he’d scheduled a trip for you in a week. Tickets were already bought, the hotel booked, everything set for you to visit the client, which was pretty standard for you. You studied the case for a week, built some strategies, and felt confident about the sale. The day of the trip came, and you packed everything, even brought a book to enjoy during the flight. You boarded the plane, everything was going smoothly, and you were just starting to feel relaxed when you began reading. But of course, things couldn’t just go well for you. Never.

“What are you doing here?” The voice immediately triggered your hate, like magic.

You looked up, and there Seungmin was, standing, staring at the seat right next to yours. It couldn’t be real, but it was.

“I’d ask you the same, but I guess I don’t need to.”

You took a deep breath, wanting to physically harm your manager and the jerk still looking at you. How could he not tell you Seungmin was coming too?

“He didn’t tell me you were coming.”

“And do you think he told me anything? Of course not. I wouldn’t be here if he had. That’s why he kept quiet. Just stay out of my way and please don’t screw up the project. I know it’s a lot to ask since you’re so limited, but at least try.”

“First of all, my seat’s right next to yours.” He sat down, way closer than you’d like for the entire flight. His cologne hit your nose, and you had to grip the armrest to stop yourself from punching him. “Second, you’re so damn stubborn. Just accept my ideas instead of assuming you’re so much better than me, and everything will be fine. We’re both specialists, so stop acting like a child.”

“I’m the childish one?!” You raised your voice, making people glance over. “You’ve sabotaged my work since you joined the company. This project is one of the biggest this year—I can’t have you undermining me in front of the client.”

“I’ve never done that. You just can’t handle it when someone disagrees with you. You should try being more flexible.”

“Oh trust me, I’m really flexible.”

You meant how flexible you were for still working with him, but it sounded wrong as soon as you said it. Your cheeks reddened a bit when you realized the double meaning.

“Anyway, let’s just stay out of each other’s way, okay?”

“Fine by me.”

You both stayed silent for the rest of the flight, but the tension was thick. It felt like there was a lot left unsaid, but neither of you spoke, just throwing grumpy glances at each other. You got off the plane with your shoulders aching because you hadn’t been able to relax at all. He looked just as irritated, which made you happy—his misery was your joy.

Finally, outside the airport, you took in his outfit. It was the first time you’d seen him dressed casually. You tried not to think about how good he looked and headed to the hotel.

Thank God your room and his were separate, even if they were close. You couldn’t handle the cliché of “we only have one room with one bed.” You’d definitely end up jumping out a window if you had to spend any more time near him.

You walked into the room and started unpacking the things you’d need, ready to relax and prepare for the evening meeting with your client in the hotel’s banquet hall. You’d rented a dress and had it delivered to your room—it arrived right after your check-in, so everything was going really well.

You hung up the dress and filled the bathtub, aiming to be fully relaxed for the headache that would be sucking up to a big client, agreeing with dumb ideas, and on top of that, dealing with your coworker undermining all your work. You really hoped he wouldn’t embarrass you this time.

You took a bath that lasted over an hour, finishing a book while soaking in the tub, and you almost dozed off as the jets massaged you. You were in a good mood, and you prayed no one would ruin it because you’d need an extra dose of charm to get everything resolved and head back to the office with everything in order.

During the afternoon, you managed to take a walk around the block and buy a few things, including more appropriate shoes to match the tight dress you had rented.

Around 7 p.m., you started doing your makeup when your phone rang. Seungmin was calling, and you ignored it until it rang a third time.

“Can’t you text? I’m busy.”

“I texted you two hours ago and you didn’t respond. Why do you have to make everything difficult? What time are we going to the event?”

“I’m just getting ready now. Doesn’t dinner start at 8?”

“Yes, but wouldn’t it be nice if we got there before the clients?”

You took a deep breath and rolled your eyes while applying foundation, almost done.

“Don’t worry. We’ll have plenty of time. I’ll let you know when I’m finished. Bye.”

You hung up without waiting for a response because you knew you’d have to hurry this time—he was right.

You managed to get ready in half an hour. Hair, makeup, high heels, and the tight dress. It felt like such a waste to get this dressed up for clients, which reminded you that it had been a long time since you’d been on a date. You pushed the thought aside and texted your colleague to let him know you were ready.

It didn’t even take two minutes before he knocked on your door.

You grabbed your purse and spritzed on your perfume before heading to the door, and when you opened it, you were met with a sharply dressed Seungmin, almost as tall as you in heels. The charcoal-gray suit was impeccable, the white shirt crisp, his hair spiked up, and that damn cologne that triggered memories of that kiss. Damn.

“At least you’re not going to embarrass me with your outfit.”

“You look fine too.”

You rolled your eyes again as you both got into the elevator, heading down to the hotel’s banquet hall. The clients weren’t there yet, but your biggest competitor was. Apparently, they had also been invited, and you already knew the limits of the negotiation. You hated clients who tried to auction things off—they were the worst.

“We need to negotiate after them,” you said, stepping closer to Seungmin to discuss a strategy, even though it was against your will. “I think we can win on quality, even if our price is higher.”

“I think so too. They’re not known for delivering well, and we can use that against them.”

You were stunned, staring at him in disbelief, because for the first time, you two had agreed on something without an unnecessary argument. Definitely worth a toast.

You went to the bar and ordered a non-alcoholic drink since you never drank when meeting with clients, and Seungmin followed, ordering a similar drink.

“They’re here.” You both watched as the directors of the client company arrived, with your competitor rushing over to kiss up to them. You exchanged glances and sighed at the same time, knowing it was going to be a long night.

The event was going smoothly, and you waited patiently until your competitor had worn the client out, then made your move. You approached subtly, and the conversation was definitely more pleasant by comparison.

“Your company is very impressive,” one of the directors said. “I must admit, you seem like high-level professionals. But I have one question… Is the timeline in your proposal realistic? Can’t you shorten it a bit?”

"Yes!" you tried to say, but you were immediately interrupted by the idiot who decided to make his first dumb move of the night.

"No!"

“You’re confusing me. Didn’t you two coordinate your answers?” The older man chuckled, clearly amused. “So, is it yes or no?”

You kicked Seungmin under the table with all the strength you had.

“Excuse my colleague, he’s new. We have a lot of projects running at the moment. But of course, we can try to shorten the timeline. However, I can’t guarantee a major change, but I can likely reduce it by a few weeks.”

“A few weeks... interesting. And how do we close the deal?”

“We need to sign a contract.” Seungmin jumped in again, interrupting just as you were about to explain. “Where all the details we’ve discussed are laid out, and, of course, your legal team can review it as well.”

You kicked him again, and you knew it was starting to hurt, because he winced, trying not to show the pain.

“That’s the final step! First, we need to align all the details. I want to make sure we meet your needs without causing any extra work.”

Seriously, what an idiot. The client needed flattery, and the word "contract" could send them away pretty fast. How was he a specialist?

Your effort during the negotiation multiplied every time Seungmin opened his mouth. You were starting to question if he was sabotaging things on purpose—although it made no sense since his commission would be big—or if he was just stupid. You probably kicked him five more times, but in the end, everything turned out fine.

You were exhausted.

As soon as the client excused himself, you were ready to head back to your room and get rid of that dress, which, by the way, may have been a decisive factor in closing the deal since the old man couldn’t stop staring at your cleavage. Well, at least you’d return with the job done.

When you hit the button to close the elevator doors, an arm shot through, stopping them from closing.

It was Seungmin.

“Despite all your efforts to sabotage the deal, I pulled it off. Congrats.” You leaned against the corner of the elevator, feeling like it was taking forever to reach the 10th floor. “I hope you don’t do that again. My head is exploding from fixing your stupidity.”

“You’re the stupid one!” he yelled at you. Your eyes narrowed, and your hand started itching to slap him. “You just sold another project we can’t deliver on, and you wouldn’t let me be honest with the client! We’re already staying late every night at the office because of stuff like this. What the fuck is your problem?!”

“If you don’t lie to clients, you’re a terrible salesperson. It’s easier to sell and negotiate timelines later than to have no projects at all. That’s basic. Did you lie in your interview? Because you can’t be this dumb.”

The elevator finally dinged, and you stormed out ahead of him, giving him a shove before you did something you’d regret. His cologne was suffocating in such a small space.

“You’re the one who’s reckless.” He grabbed your arm as you reached your door. “We have to stick to the contract, and now it promises a deadline we can’t meet. Plus, the project costs might increase because of it. Seems like the dumb one is you.”

You were stunned by his words, and one of the most basic human instincts kicked in: violence.

You yanked your arm free and immediately slapped him so hard your hand stung. You couldn’t imagine how it felt on his skin, but you hoped it hurt. It felt so good and satisfying that you started to laugh—really laugh, especially at the shocked look on his face. That slap lifted a weight off your shoulders that had been there for months. What a release!

“Are you crazy?” he growled.

He pushed you against your door, but you couldn’t stop laughing. Maybe you had lost it for real this time.

Seungmin looked completely taken aback, and as your fingerprints became more visible on his cheek, you laughed even harder. Your stomach hurt, and tears streamed down your face.

The man yanked your purse from your hand, took your keycard, opened the door, and shoved you inside, pinning you against the wall again—this time where no one could see you. Your laughter faded because he seemed so furious that, for a second, you thought he might hit you back.

For a second, you hoped he would.

“Damn it, you...” His grip on your arm was still tight.

“Are you going to hit me? Because if not, leave. I need to rest—you’ve worn me out.” You were still smiling, and you imagined how much that must be driving him crazy.

“Is that what you want? For me to hit you?” One of his hands left your arm and slid up to your neck, pinning you against the wall once again. “You have no idea how much you piss me off when you act like this.”

The way he held you sent a sharp jolt between your legs, making your pussy just clench around nothing, and it must have shown on your face because his expression changed too. Suddenly, his eyes locked on your lips—or maybe somewhere lower.

“My eyes are up here, dear. And if you want to hit me, go ahead. I slapped you, so I’ll give you that right.”

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, his chest heaving as he leaned closer to your neck, his grip on your throat still tight.

“I think what you really want is something else...”

Your breathing was heavy, and you were starting to struggle for air with the pressure he was applying to the sides of your neck. You were sure your underwear was soaked from the way he whispered in your ear. Your body had betrayed you completely.

You didn’t have time to respond, because as soon as you met his gaze again, he kissed you. He pressed his body against yours, kissing you with the same intensity and anger as the first time. It was insane, like a battle—you were still fighting, but in a different way. He sucked on your tongue, and you immediately sucked on his for longer. He bit you, and you bit him harder. It went on like that, the two of you grinding against each other on the wall, and if anyone saw, they’d be sure you were attacking each other.

He pulled away a little, and you could feel your lips swollen from the kiss. You almost leaned forward, searching for more. You stayed still, his fingers still gripping you firmly against the wall, and by now, your dress was seriously bothering you. It was obvious what was about to happen between you two, and you had no intention to pretend you didn’t want it.

You reached out, unbuttoning his shirt, and Seungmin let go of your neck, tossing his jacket to the floor. Without much patience or care, you pulled at his shirt, sending buttons scattering across the room.

“Hope that’s not rented,” you managed to say, while your nails scraped down his chest.

“It’s not.” He spun you around, pressing you against the wall as he yanked down the zipper of your dress, roughly pulling it off your shoulders and shoving it down to your feet. “Is this what you’ve been wanting all this time, hn?”

You were now just in your panties, your breasts and cheek pressed against the cold wall. He had you pinned there, and just as he asked the question, he smacked your ass so hard you stumbled, realizing it was probably a good idea to kick off your heels.

“Of course not.”

“Doesn’t seem like it.” His hand slid over your stomach and down to your panties, checking how soaked you were. You could feel the heat of his chest against your back, and without realizing it, you arched toward him, your body betraying you again. “So wet and arching like this...”

“Maybe you should just shut up and get on with it.”

Seungmin laughed against the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine as he grabbed your hair, forcing you to tilt your head back and curve your body while your hands pressed against the wall.

“If I’d known it was this easy to calm you down…” Still gripping your hair, he pulled you away from the wall and turned you to face him. He stared at your breasts, letting go of your hair as he guided you toward the bed. “Lie down and spread your legs.”

“And who says I’m going to obey you?”

“Got it.” He climbed onto the bed, shoving you down so you’d lie back while he knelt between your legs. “You’re still pretending you don’t want this.”

Seungmin ripped off your panties, tossing the shredded fabric beside you on the bed, then took off his already buttonless shirt. He was still in dress pants while you were completely naked, and you found it incredibly hot. His clothes suited him well. You couldn’t help but notice the bulge in his pants, your body pulsing at the thought of him making up for all the anger he’d caused you for months.

“I’m not pretending anything…”

He grabbed your hips and lifted your legs, bending you in half on the bed, leaving you open and pressed against him. Seungmin pulled you closer until his face was practically buried between your thighs, and then he dove in to lick your soaked pussy. You felt like you were about to explode the moment his tongue touched you, and you cried out, clutching the sheets as his tongue teased your clit, kissing you almost as aggressively as you two had been kissing against the wall earlier.

“Fuuuuuck, Seungmin…”

Your mind went blank, and all the stress left your body as he ate you out, his fingers playing with your clit while his tongue moved inside you. It was magic—you even managed to forget that it was him making you feel all this pleasure. He wasn’t trying to make you come, just savoring you, but he did an excellent job of it—unlike his professional skills.

After a few minutes, he slowly let you down, leaving your body resting on the bed as he started to undress. You watched the show, noticing he had more muscle than you expected, even though he was still pretty lean.

He knelt between your legs again, and you both knew neither of you had a condom, but you didn’t care enough to stop. Besides, staying in that position wasn’t going to work.

“I don’t want to be on the bottom. That would mean staring at your face the whole time.” You sat up, got on your knees, and turned your back to him, quickly settling on all fours. “Now, fuck me, Seungmin.”

Funny how you’d only said that phrase in the negative before, and in a completely different context. His laugh was genuine, and you laughed along, barely believing the situation you were in, but you became very aware of it when he grabbed your ass and smacked it again, the loud sound echoing with the sting on your skin.

Seungmin positioned himself at your entrance, using your wetness to slick himself before pushing his thick cock inside your pussy, and he did it all at once, so deep that you had to bury your face in the pillow to muffle the sounds. It hurt, just like the way he was gripping your waist and slamming his hips against your ass. But it was exactly what you needed. It seemed like he’d found a way to let out all his frustration on you too.

You arched your back, lowering your front and bracing yourself on your arms, feeling like maybe he could fuck the anger right out of you if he kept going like this.

One hand reached down to your clit, rubbing slowly, your fingers brushing against him as he moved in and out of you, getting even wetter with your arousal. His groans were delicious to hear. Unfortunately for you, Seungmin had one of the most beautiful voices you’d ever heard, which might’ve contributed to how you ended up in this situation, letting him fuck you from behind.

You were relaxed, your mind going blank again, a peace settling over you that you hadn’t felt in a long time, your problems fading as your orgasm built. He was fucking you so hard that it was difficult to even moan.

Your legs tensed up as you came, your body trembling with pleasure, struggling to hold yourself up on your knees. He lifted your hips, keeping you at the perfect angle, and slapped your ass again. You had a feeling he was determined to leave a permanent mark with his hand, and since you were being fucked so well, you didn’t complain. You actually were loving it.

Then, out of nowhere, he just stopped.

You propped yourself up on your arms again, glancing back to see him already sweaty, hair falling out of place, with the imprints of your fingers still on his face. It was a damn beautiful sight.

“Ride me.”

He dropped beside you on the bed, starting to stroke himself, drawing your attention to the way his hand moved over his cock, now covered in your wetness. You thought about arguing, about making things difficult for him—but it wasn’t worth it. You wanted to ride him badly.

You climbed on, one knee on each side of his body, and lowered yourself onto him, grinding to make sure he fit just right. It felt way too good to have him so deep inside you, but there was no way you were telling him that. Ever.

You braced both hands on his chest, your nails digging into his skin, still marked with your earlier scratches, riding him slowly and already feeling like you might come again if you worked for it.

“Doesn’t seem like you hate me when you’re riding me like this.” His hands gripped your hips, leaving more marks.

“You’re a bastard.” You leaned down, squeezing his face between your fingers but never stopping as you bounced on him. “I still hate you, but you have a great dick. Don’t mess up.”

He closed his eyes and smiled, letting his hands wander up your body to your breasts, being rough with your nipples, pinching and slapping the flesh. You shut your eyes, focusing only on your pleasure, grinding against him the way you needed to in order to come. You dared to peek at him, and Seungmin was watching you intently, hypnotized by the way you were moving on top of him, moaning with you like watching you get close was turning him on just as much as you were.

When he decided to press his thumb against your clit, your orgasm hit fast and hard. Your hands were braced on his chest, and you ended up scratching him deeply, probably enough to hurt, but you only realized it after you came back down to earth from the intensity of your climax. You weren’t about to apologize, though—he could have asked you to stop, but he didn’t. You’d bet he even liked it, such a perv.

Seungmin grabbed your hair and pulled you down on top of him, adjusting your body so you lifted your hips slightly while he took control. Your tits were right in his face, and he made sure to suck, bite and mark them while thrusting into you, muffling his own groans against your skin as he got close. His body finally relaxed, and you collapsed on top of him, letting all your weight fall as the only sound left was the two of you trying to catch your breath. His cock slipped out, and you could feel everything probably dripping onto him, but you just rolled off and onto the bed.

You had a few precious minutes of silence. Too bad it didn’t last.

“That was fun,” he said, sitting up in bed. “We should do it again.”

“I’m gonna take a shower, and by the time I come back, I expect you to be in your own room.”

“That’s cold. You’re not even gonna respond to my offer?”

“Did you hear me say no?” You got up and glanced at yourself in the mirror, noticing that most of your body was covered in marks. “If you leave now, I’ll think about it.”

“You’re such a hard one to deal with.”

“Nah, not that much.” You walked slowly past him, knowing he was staring at the marks he left on your ass. “Since you did everything right, we can do it again.”

That smug smile of his almost made you reconsider.

“Looks like we finally found a way to get along.”

“Yeah, seems fair. And you’ll definitely be a good stress reliever for me.”

You opened the bathroom door and glanced back one last time, hoping not to see him when you were done.

“Goodnight, Seungmin.”

You closed the door and waited, listening for the sound of the bedroom door, and it didn’t take long before you heard him leave. You exhaled deeply, feeling relaxed, relieved, and completely exhausted—but satisfied. The best part was knowing the tension at work would only get worse, and this new way of resolving it was going to bring a lot of fun. You were looking forward to it.

[traningdummy]

A Medic and His Patient

Ezra X Male Reader

Ezra was in need of medical care, while Cee did her best she knew it wouldn’t last long. Thankfully Y/n, a certified medic, was at the docking bay. When the two came in and docked he checked their status, before he saw Ezra’s condition.

“Nurse, get me a bed stat, we have an injured patient!” He yelled which made Ezra groan, ears still ringing from the radio the crazy women played. Cee stayed next to him as he was brought to the medical wing. “Are you sure you want to come in? Your dad isn’t in a very good condition.” Y/n told Cee, she nodded and went with him.

•••

Thankfully the procedure went smoothly, Ezra thankfully didn’t lose anymore limbs. As he laid there peacefully Cee was talking to Y/n, asking about anything he would need.

“He should make a full recovery soon, but if you see any medical issues you come straight to me.” He told her she nodded and Ezra groaned, he opened his eyes to see Cee and Y/n.

“Ezra.” She whispered quietly, he groaned as she hugged him. The medic smiled and left the papers on the desk next to them before he left the room.

“Where am I Cee?” He asked, she was going to get the medic but he was gone.

“We’re in the medical wing, a medic brought you in here and helped you out.” Cee told Ezra who nodded and groaned feeling the bandages and stitches in his skin.

“I would like to thank the person who did this, but from what I can tell they aren’t here right?” He asked and she nodded, he sat up and saw his papers on the desk. He took them and looked through them.

“He wanted me to say that if there are any more medical issues we can go straight to him.” Cee told Ezra, who nodded as he found the medics name.

“Y/n L/n, what a beautiful name.” He said with a grin on his face, he sighed and laid down on the bed. Cee smiled and left him alone as he fell asleep in the bed.

•••

It wasn’t until a few weeks later when Ezra finally met Y/n, he met him inside of the medical wing as Cee brought him in for a check up.

“Y/n?” She asked and the medic turned and gave her a smile.

“Hello Cee, I see you are early for the check up?” He asked and she nodded.

“Yeah, I didn't want Ezra to wake up late, Ezra this is.”

“Y/n L/n, wow you do look heavenly.” He said already enamored by the younger man, he laughed a little and brought the two to his office.

As he did his check up on Ezra the man wouldn’t stop talking, usually about how long he was on Green Moon, to how handsome Y/n was. But it didn’t bother him, he enjoyed the company as in his profession most of his patients were dying or dead the only sounds coming from them were either groans in pain or crying from families.

“Have I told you how good you look in that uniform, it makes me jealous.” Ezra finished and Y/n gave him a smile before nodding.

“Yes Ezra you have told me that before, but you seem to be in good shape. Now enjoy your day, you two.” He told them and Cee left but Ezra decided to stay back.

“Did you need something else, Ezra?” Y/n asked and he nodded before clearing his throat.

“I was wondering if you would like to eat some dinner at our place?” He asked the medic, his eyes widened for a second before smiling.

“Sure, when does it work for you?” He asked Ezra.

“Well I’m thinkin sometime next week, you know, get Cee used to the idea of me dating.” He told Y/n, he nodded and Ezra left with a smile on his face.

“Sounds wonderful Ezra, now hurry on out I got a patient to get.” He told Ezra who nodded and left the room, his smile never leaving his as he walked back to his room.

For the rest of the week Ezra kept dropping hints to Cee about his plans, which she already knew his intentions but found it amusing to watch him try to convince her. During his free time he would try to see Y/n, and the two would talk about whatever has happened.

Yet when the week was over she already knew who he was going to bring over, and she was glad it was him.

•••

Y/n groaned, wiping off the blood from his face, his last patient needed immediate surgery. He had to amputate the man’s leg without sedatives, which meant the man was screaming murder the whole time.

“His pulse is dropping!” A nurse told him, he was almost through the bone and the limb fell off. Immediately everyone began to patch up the nub, and he began a blood transfusion.

Thankfully the man was alive, he was then out into a room and Y/n went to the washroom. He washed off his face, body, and hair, getting all of the blood off of him. He then changed into some spare clothes and walked out into the lobby, and there was Ezra in a nice outfit with a bouquet of fake flowers.

“Well don’t you look wonderful.” Ezra said and Y/n sighed but smiled at him.

“Had to do a surgery, sorry if there are any specks of blood still on me.” He apologized to Ezra, but the man could care less and gave him the flowers.

“It’s fine by me, here’s some flowers I got for you. Now let’s hurry, I think Cee is eager to meet you.” Ezra said and the men held hands as they walked out of the wing.

As the two went Ezra began to talk about his week after seeing Y/n, while he was talking Y/n stayed quiet and listened, enjoying the conversation.

“You know I think Cee would be very happy, she seemed open to the idea. She even helped me pick out an outfit, I’m not wearing it but I’m glad she tried. No offense to her but she doesn’t have a very good taste in style.” Ezra admitted and he laughed along with Y/n.

It wasn’t long till they reached the door, Ezra opened the door and there was a note from Cee. He let in Y/n before reading the note. “Enjoy your date Ezra, tell Y/n I said hi.” She wrote with a little heart instead of the period, he smiled and put away the note and went to get the food.

“Where’s Cee?” He asked and Ezra turned around with two plates of food in his hand, he set them down and the two sat down.

“She won’t be joining us, but she wanted me to say hi.” Ezra told him, he smiled and nodded before the two began to eat. The silence was comforting, just hearing the sounds of silverware and plates as they ate.

It was when Ezra finished he watched Y/n closely, taking in his features which made him blush as he kept eating. When he finally finished his food Ezra took his plate, and set it away and the two sat in silence.

“I never asked, what did you do for a living?” Y/n asked the man across from him, who sighed before rubbing his temples.

“I’m a prospector, I was stuck in the Green Moon for a few years. Until Cee showed up with her dad, a few disagreements and some scrap metal flying around and here we are. Arms gone, Cee is now sort of like my daughter, and I am now on a date with the most handsome man I’ve ever met.” Ezra explained to Y/n, and he was blushing but smiling as well.

The two then cuddled together, holding hands as they did. Ezra smiled softly and Y/n put his head on his shoulder, enjoying the warmth of the man’s body. He felt at home with Ezra, he couldn't explain it even though the two barely met a few weeks ago.

Ezra had shifted sideways and laid Y/n on his chest, he played with Y/n’s hand and Y/n would watch him with a smile. The two stayed quiet together, Y/n only listened to Ezra’s heartbeat and he would mess with his hand or hair.

He then sat up and sat in his lap, the two stared at each other. Ezra’s brown innocent-like eyes were mesmerizing for Y/n, and Ezra could see the pure joy and love in his eyes.

He brought his hand to Y/n’s chin, sculpting his jaw until bringing him in closer leading to a kiss. It was quiet outside, but inside of the two men it felt like a cold forgotten fireplace was igniting in their hearts.

Ezra holding Y/n’s waist, and his hands on Ezra’s shoulders wrapping them around his neck. He smiled in the kiss and it began to get deeper, Ezra sliding his hand into Y/n’s pants rubbing his crotch softly.

He groaned quietly and rutted against his hand, trying to get any sort of friction on his cock. That was until Ezra pulled out his hand, taking off Y/n’s pants and he took off his. The two were now in each other's hold, only in their underwear and shirts. Ezra’s hand touching all over Y/n’s body, and his hands did the same to the other man.

“You feel so soft pumpkin, it feels like I’m touching clouds.” Ezra whispered into Y/n’s ear, and his face reddened with the compliment. But he was getting restless and the soft yet teasing touches by Ezra wasn’t helping, so he decided to take the lead.

Y/n put his hands on Ezra’s waist and pulled him under, his eyes widened as he was now under Y/n. His eyes were filled with hunger and lust, he could see that he then his underwear came off.

“I can’t take it anymore Ezra.” He whined and pulled out his cock, both were red but Ezra’s was slightly longer and thicker. Y/n held them both and began to jerk them, both men were groaning as he kept going faster.

“S-Shit pumpkin, slow down for me yeah?” Ezra asked and he complied, slowing down the tugging but still moving slowly. “Go to my bag and pull out some lube, please.” He asked and Y/n did as asked and got the bottle.

He opened the bottle and squeezed the liquid on his hands, he then began to jerk Ezra. The man was moaning and groaning as he kept going, it wasn’t long until his cock was ready.

“Be gentle pumpkin, don’t want you to hurt yourself.” Ezra told Y/n, he nodded before slowly going down his on cock. Then when he bottomed out he felt full, Ezra watched the man and was enthralled by him.

It felt like minutes before Y/n started to ride Ezra’s cock, every bounce hit his prostate so perfectly that it left him breathless. As he kept going Ezra would keep his hand on his hips, making sure to keep his pace but he was struggling to not thrust up.

But all of that restraint was broken when he heard Y/n’s whimpers, he then thrusted up and ruined his tempo as he moaned loudly. Ezra then decided to take the lead, laying Y/n down and began to thrust into him hard yet slow.

As he would thrust slowly, he would whisper praises in Y/n’s ear loving to watch his face get even redder. “P-Please Ezra go faster, I’m so close.” He whined and Ezra complied and shifted his pace to go faster.

It wasn’t long till he felt the knot in his abdomen begin to break, and with a moan he came all over his chest. Ezra stopped his thrusts and tasted Y/n’s cum. “Sorta salt, sorta bland, but very much perfect.” He mumbled and began his thrusts again, deciding to chase his high.

He didn’t stop his relentless thrusts, until he watched Y/n’s hand slowly come up and mess with his blonde patch. Ezra loved this man so much, and somehow that’s how he climaxed quickly pulling out of him.

The two stared at each other, eyes never moving away. Y/n then brought his hands up and pulled Ezra’s face down, bringing him into a soft kiss that made his heart flutter. “Thank you Ezra.” He whispered before he got up, Ezra watched him as he disappeared into the bathroom.

He got up and went in, seeing Y/n turn on the shower. He looked over and smiled at Ezra, “You want to join me? There’s enough room for two.” Y/n asked and he nodded, getting in behind him.

Y/n helped Ezra wash himself off and he did the same to Y/n, the quiet splashes of water were calming and soothing for the two men. When they were done they were dried off and Ezra gave Y/n some of his clothes.

“Thank you for this wonderful date Ezra, I hope we can have another one soon.” He told him, before he left he gave Ezra a kiss before walking out.

•••

“So how did it go?” Cee asked when she came back, the room was clean but a few scattered clothes were left behind.

“It went great Cee, I think I’ve found my true love.” Ezra told her, sighing dreamily before she began to chuckle. “What’s so funny? Are you jealous I found my soulmate already?” Ezra inquired and she laughed a little louder.

“No I’m just laughing from your facial expressions, you act like a prospector who found some aurelac.” She joked and Ezra laughed as well, glad the two are getting along better than he would have thought.

“I’m gonna ask him on another date sometime soon, where should I take him?” He asked Cee who shrugged.

“I don’t know, but maybe rent a room because now it’s all musty.” She complained and his face became red and decided to try and sleep.

[sweeter-innocence-fics]

I love your Butch drabbles! Do you think you could do one where Lone first returns from the Wastes for Trouble on the Homefront?

Hello I'm sorry I definitely saw this message when you first sent it but then forgot about it for several months. Thank you for the prompt. Here it is:

Trouble on the Homefront (Butch Deloria First Kiss Drabble)

Word Count: 1527

The Lone Wanderer hadn’t exactly been expecting a warm welcome home, but this was even worse than she’d expected.

The vault was in shambles. Thankfully, it was Officer Gomez who was guarding the door, and not one of the more zealous or violent types. She hated Stevie Mack, but putting a bullet in his brain was still an unappealing thought. It wouldn’t help her, and it certainly wouldn’t help Amata.

Still, she wouldn’t let herself be turned away. The vault may have turned its back on her, but that didn’t mean she wanted to see it burn to the ground.

According to Gomez, Amata and the rest of her rebels were in the clinic. The thought of Amata doing anything that could be considered rebellious almost made her snort. The Overseer’s daughter had always been a goody two shoes, but James leaving had evidently turned the whole vault upside down.

Gomez led her as far as the stairs up to the clinic, not that she needed the direction. This had been her home for 19 years.

It had been nice to have the company, though. She’d left Dogmeat in Megaton with Charon, knowing that this was a mess she needed to sort out by herself.

The corridor to the clinic was guarded, which wasn’t unexpected. What was unexpected was who Amata had chosen as a guard. Standing in the corridor, his stupid little switchblade drawn, was Butch Deloria.

“Damn, look who’s come waltzing back into the vault,” he said, smirking. She could help but exhale in relief. She never thought that her childhood bully would be a welcome sight, but that was another thing that had turned topsy-turvy in her absence. “It takes some real balls coming back here after everything you and your dad screwed up.”

Her stomach turned. She really didn’t want to think about her dad right now.

Butch didn’t seem to notice. He always had been pretty oblivious.

He continued, blithely unaware of the way his words were like a punch to the gut, “But if you’ve gotta be back, might as well make yourself useful. You’ve gotta help us.”

She let out a dry laugh. This was starting to sound familiar. Everywhere she went, someone needed her help, and they were rarely grateful when she gave it.

“Is that right?” she asked.

His expression faltered. For a moment, she saw through his cocky façade. Then the mask was back in place.

“Come on, man, you don’t think I wanna be stuck down in this hellhole forever? You got free, now it’s my turn.”

“I didn’t choose ‘freedom’,” she said.

“Bullshit. If you’d really wanted to stay, you could’ve found a way to make it work. I know you. You’ve never settled for getting less than what you want.”

Maybe he had a point. Maybe if she’d thrown herself on the Overseer’s mercy back on the night her father ran away, then she would’ve been allowed to stay. Maybe she could’ve manipulated or blackmailed or persuaded. She’d certainly done that since. But at the time, it hadn’t even occurred to her. She’d just needed to find her father.

Or maybe the Overseer would’ve shot her dead. She’d never know now.

“If you really want freedom so bad, then why don’t you just leave? You could go right now. You have a gun. I doubt Gomez would stop you.”

Butch’s jaw tightened. “It’s not that simple.”

“It’s not that simple,” she agreed. “So why don’t you tell me what you need my help with?”

The reunion with Amata was bittersweet. They had been best friends for their entire lives, but somehow now, in a few short weeks, they had never felt more different.

Amata was growing into herself. She would be Overseer sooner rather than later, Lone was sure of it.

Lone, on the other hand, was a shell of herself. Grief had robbed the colour from her cheeks. She was on autopilot now. But if she could save the vault, she would.

She was on the way to see the Overseer when Butch cornered her again. “Can we talk?” he asked. She shrugged, and let him lead her into an empty room.

“I know Amata wants you to convince Almadovar to open the vault. But there’s another way.” He put a hand on her shoulder. She barely heard him as he explained the issue with the reactor and the air filtration system. All she could feel was the weight of his hand on her shoulder.

“Butch,” she said as soon as he was finished speaking. She sounded incredibly tired.

“Come on,” he said quietly. “After the way these people have treated you, don’t you want to get your revenge? Don’t you want to put the Overseer through what he’s put you through?”

The thought was, admittedly, tempting. She couldn’t believe that there was some small part of her that was considering this.

But there was a problem. It wouldn’t just be Almadovar, or the Macks, or Butch that would be exiled. Destroying the reactor meant turfing the entire vault out and watching the people she’d grown up alongside starve or die to radiation or be rounded up by slavers. She thought of her classmates. She thought of Amata. They didn’t deserve that.

“You’re a real asshole, Butch,” she said.

“Just think about it, alright?”

She didn’t destroy the vault. Of course she didn’t. She wasn’t a monster. And maybe Butch would be disappointed, but he hadn’t seen the wasteland the way she had. He didn’t know what fate he would’ve been dooming the vault denizens to.

Almadovar proved easier to talk down than she’d expected. She suspected, like herself, that he was tired of the fighting and the lying and the deaths. He stepped down with surprising grace, allowing Amata to take over.

And her first act as Overseer, after everything the Lone Wanderer had done to install her in her position of power, was to banish her to the wasteland forever.

Lone didn’t argue. She didn’t fight. As Amata called her a hero and told her she couldn’t ever come back, her shoulders dropped.

“I’m sorry,” said Amata, and Lone hardly heard her. Since her father’s death, the grief had come in waves, and another one was hitting her right now. She had lost her father, and now she could never go home again. The only direction she could move was forward. There was no comforting safety net of ‘back’.

“Goodbye, Amata,” she said, almost robotically. With that, she turned and walked away.

She could feel many pairs of eyes on her. She refused to look at them. All she wanted to do was get back to Megaton and crawl into bed with Dogmeat.

She was on the other side of the vault door when Butch caught up with her. He called her name,  but she ignored him. He grabbed her wrist, and she spun around to face him, fist raised.

“Woah, hey,” he said, catching her other wrist. “I just came to check on you. I can’t believe that Amata did that to you.”

“I suppose I’m an easy person to let go of,” she said. “Nobody ever seems to want me to stick around.”

“That’s not true.” Butch’s voice was soft. She looked up at him. He swallowed, his expression nervous. “I always thought the same about me, you know? My mom probably wouldn’t even notice if I died. And everyone else would be glad to be rid of me. But you… you help people. I heard on the radio about all the things you’ve done and all the people you’ve saved. Amata and all these other empty headed vault idiots don’t deserve you. They’re stupid to let you go. You don’t need them.”

She was blinking back tears. On any other day, she would be mortified to cry in front of Butch, but he was holding her hand now, stroking soothingly over her bare skin with his thumb, and it was nice. She had never expected to be comforted by Butch of all people.

His free hand came up to cup her chin, turning her face towards him so that she was looking him in the eye.

“They don’t deserve you,” he repeated. “And for what it’s worth, the vault was a whole lot better when you were around.”

With tears streaming down her cheeks, she threw her arms around his neck. She wasn’t sure who initiated it, but then they were kissing, her hot tears rolling down his cheeks.

His hand was in her hair, the other on her lower back, pressing them closer together. She just held onto him, letting him anchor her in position.

When they finally pulled apart, he was looking at her almost sheepishly. She just grinned at him, feeling a lightness that she hadn’t felt since she’d left the vault for the first time.

All of her pain was still there, bubbling just below the surface, but now, there was some hope too. Maybe the future wasn’t all dire.

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” she said. “You coming?”

“Hell yeah, I’m coming.” There was nothing left for him in the vault anyhow.

Masterlists.

Taglist info.

[imaginesfordifferentfandoms]

Soon You’ll Get Better

Prompt -  'Holy orange bottles, each night I pray to you, desperate people find faith, so now I pray to Jesus too.’

Owen knew he had to tell you. He had told Judd, as hard as it had been to say the words out loud for the first time, he had told him. He had told TK, or more accurately TK found out himself and Owen could no longer deny the truth, could no longer smile and pretend it wasn’t real, not when TK had looked at him with those wide, watery eyes and a tremor in his voice.

He knew he had to tell the team but he couldn’t do that because he had to tell you first. He knew Judd and TK wouldn’t tell you but they had both had countless conversations with him about how you needed to know and he knew they were right. If he were being honest with himself he was holding off telling you for the same reason he hadn’t told TK back in New York when he’d found out, he was scared.

Owen Strand was scared and it was easy to put on a wide smile and hide behind it, to push the diagnosis to the back of his mind and enjoy the time he had with you. He liked to think he was a strong man but this was different, it was different in the same way he was weak opposite TK who was hurt and terrified, he was weak because he didn’t think he could stand seeing the fear in your eyes, the look on your face every time you looked at him knowing that the cancer was eating away at him. He couldn’t stand the thought of you looking at him like he was already dead, nothing but a walking corpse.

He hadn’t known you very long but it was long enough to know you were special, to know that you would be somebody who changed his life. He cared for you deeply, from the second you walked into the firehouse and flashed him that warm smile before sitting opposite him and TK to talk about your place in the 126. He liked to think he had done a good job hiding how much he liked you from your half hour meeting but the second you left TK had turned to him with a wide grin of his own and Owen rolled his eyes as he told him to shut up before any words even left his mouth, something that only made TK smile wider.

Working alongside you was thrilling, Owen had had partners before but the way the two of you moved with each other, always knowing what the other was thinking without either of you needing to voice anything wasn’t just helpful in your line of duty but it also made Owen smile every time he thought of your silent communication, knowing that you had become so close after only a few weeks together. He let himself think of a future, he had to because he refused to think about what could happen if the chemo didn’t work. He let himself think of months or years working side by side with you, the two of you in perfect sync. It was a thought that made sitting in the hospital slightly more bearable.

Owen knew you weren’t stupid. He knew you had noticed him sneaking off during shifts only to come back slightly shaky and pale, he had gotten lucky that you hadn’t pushed it, only asking if he was ok and making sure he had a bottle of water when he returned. He knew this wouldn’t last for long though, eventually you would start pushing, asking him what was wrong and the last thing he needed was you dragging him to Michelle.

So he had to tell you, something that was easier said than done.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried. In fact countless times he had invited you over with the intention to tell you about the cancer only to back out at the last second, pushing it to the back of his head as best he could before focusing on your company. He had called you into his office multiple times where there were no distractions before he always decided against it, telling Judd and TK’s disappointed looks that telling you at work wasn’t the best idea.

But he knew he couldn’t put it off any longer and swore to himself that today was the day he would tell you.

He had already invited you around for a dinner he was in the middle of cooking, TK had left the house with a warning that he better tell you tonight and Owen would make good on that promise.

Things between you and Owen were good, the two of you had been close from day one. It felt like you had known each other forever, there was no awkwardness, no strained silences. The two of you got to talking and immediately hit it off. Owen knew it was going in a good direction, he knew you liked him and God knows how much he liked you. He had seen the hints when you had been over at his place, knew that if he had just leaned in and kissed you that you wouldn’t have pushed him away.

But he couldn’t. It didn’t feel right to start something with you without you knowing about the cancer. He wouldn’t judge you if it were too much, if you decided to just be friends and stop the flirtatious looks and teasing remarks. He’d be devastated, no doubt about it, but he would understand. Jumping into a relationship with a sick man wouldn’t be ideal.

By the time you were knocking on the door Owen felt like a nervous mess and without any alcohol to soothe his nerves he felt ready to back out of this conversation again.

All the stress seemed to melt away as he opened the door, seeing you standing there with a smile on your face brought a matching one to his. You weren’t dressed up, you had long since switched from that to a more comfortable attire with the more time you spent at Owen’s house and yet somehow you still managed to take his breath away.

“Can I come in?” You laughed, causing Owen to snap back to reality and smile wider at you, shaking his head to clear his mind as he opened the door wider for you.

“Please do, dinner’s almost ready.” Owen told you as he took your coat. “Beautiful as always, dear.”

He couldn’t stop his smile from widening even as he knew the eye roll was coming.

“You okay? You sounded…I don’t know you sounded weird on the phone.” You asked as you leaned against the counter and watched Owen walk towards the pans resting on the stove.

The silence stretched for a moment too long and you frowned as you stared at his back, watching as he tensed up before seemingly forcing himself to relax.

“Owen?” You asked again and heard him sigh before turning the heat down.

He turned to face you with a serious and almost sad look on his face causing you to look at him warily, not sure what bad news he was about to deliver but knowing it was coming.

“Hey, talk to me.” You prompted softly, watching as Owen let his eyes fall closed as he took a deep breath. “It’s me, whatever it is we’ll deal with it.”

Those words had Owen smiling and opening his eyes to stare at you in wonderment. God, you were too good for him, he had no idea what he had done to deserve even meeting you. Here you were, so ready to stand beside him and create a solution to whatever it was that was bothering him.

If only it were that easy.

“I was going to wait until after dinner to tell you.” Owen began, feeling like his throat was swelling up on him.

“Tell me what?” You asked, keeping your voice soft even as your brows knitted together as you looked at him in confusion.

“C’mere,” Owen said, knowing full well he was doing nothing but buying himself a few more seconds of living in a world where you didn’t know but there was no going back now.

You let your fingers entwine with Owen’s when he held his out for you, squeezing his hand reassuringly as he led you to the living room and onto the sofa. Neither of you let go of the other as you sat next to each other, nor did you move your legs when your knees brushed together.

Owen opened his mouth only to close it against every few seconds, sure he had gone over what he was going to say to you a thousand times and that was all well and good but actually sitting here beside you, your hand in his with your thumb brushing against his skin, it felt impossible to get the words out.

“Hey,” you said quietly, not talking until Owen looked over at you and you smiled sadly when you saw fear on his face, “whatever it is I’m right here.”

Owen forced himself to swallow around the lump in his throat, his eyes suddenly burning at your words before he took a breath and nodded.

“I don’t know how I got so lucky finding you,” Owen murmured and took comfort in how your smile shifted and brightened your face. He let himself relax as he looked at you for a second longer before forcing the words out. “I should’ve told you a long time ago but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“Tell me what, Owen?” You asked again and Owen squeezed your hand before he spoke.

“I’ve got cancer, Y/N.” There, the words were out. He had actually told you and even though a weight was still resting heavily on him he felt a little bit better knowing that you knew, that going forward he was being totally honest with you even if it meant losing you.

Owen never took his eyes off you as he told you the secret only four people knew, five now that he included you. He watched as your eyes widened, watched your skin pale, saw the way your mouth fell open and tears filled your eyes seconds later once the words fully hit you.

He hated that he was the reason for such a reaction, he only wanted to draw smiles and laughs from you.

Then there was the fear that clouded your eyes, the fear he so desperately didn’t want to see. You were scared for him and Owen didn’t want that, he didn’t want you worrying that every second you spent with him would be your last or if he was suddenly going to kneel over mid conversation.

“Y/N, I’m alright.” Owen said when minutes had passed and you had yet to say anything. His words seemed to snap you back to reality and you swallowed around the burning lump in your throat, feeling tears well in your eyes as you stared at Owen.

“No, you’re not.” You whispered, a hundred questions racing through your mind.

“Hey,” he said softly, not letting go of the hand he was holding as he lifted his other to cup your cheek and wipe the few tears that had leaked out. “I’m really ok or as ok as I can be. I’m on the treatments the doctors want me on and they like my chances. I’m ok, sweetheart, I promise.”

You leaned into the touch on your cheek before shifting forward to press your forehead against Owen’s and heard the soft chuckle as he held you close to him, both of you silent for the next few minutes as you took in what he had told you.

“You said you're on the treatment, does that mean chemo?” You whispered, not wanting to move away from him.

“Yeah, yeah they have me on chemo. That part is hard, I won’t lie but they say it looks good so I can’t complain.” Owen reassured you and you nodded against him, needing another moment to take in everything.

“Does TK go with you?” You asked, hating the thought of Owen going through this alone.

“He has been but he only found out not too long ago-”

“You’ve been doing this alone?” You asked him, interrupting whatever else he was going to say.

“Of course that’s the part that upsets you the most.” Owen chuckled but brushed his thumb across your cheekbone, keeping you in place when you went to pull away. “It’s not too bad, well except for this guy who comes in when I do and, well story for a different time but I’ve been ok.”

You nodded again and let the silence stretch despite having more questions to ask, wanting to know exactly what type of cancer he had, how far along it was, how long had he been on chemo, how long had he been dealing with this alone if TK only found out recently? Instead of asking them though you squeezed Owen’s hand in yours and lifted your free one to rest on top of his still resting on your cheek. Owen smiled as you turned your face slightly to press a soft kiss to his palm.

“I really don’t know what I did to deserve you.” He told you again and you shook your head with a smile because really it was the other way around.

Seeing Owen sat in the hospital chair, wires connected to a machine and a needle being pushed into his skin, made your heart ache. He looked tired though and yet even now, even when he was the one who needed you to be brave, there he was smiling over at you and reaching a hand out for you.

“I’m alright.” He assured you and you couldn’t help but laugh softly.

You forced yourself to relax in your seat as you reached for his hand and squeezed it softly, letting your thumb brush against his skin as you smiled at him. Even though he knew you were scared you couldn’t tell him that, not whilst he was the one suffering.

It was hard to hide your fear though, under the hospital lighting Owen looked exhausted, his own fear well disguised for your sake no doubt. You knew it was your turn to push away how scared you were, Owen needed you to be brave right now.

It had been two weeks since you found out he had cancer, weeks you had spent trying to come to terms with it but it seemed impossible. Owen having cancer seemed like it wasn’t real, how could this man, this charming, confident, caring man suddenly be sick, be in a hospital chair getting treatment for cancer?

It didn’t seem real and yet here you were with him.

In the two weeks you had known you had familiarised yourself with orange bottles filled with different pills, listened as Owen explained what they were for. More than once you had raised the issue of if he should be working, if he should be running into smoke filled buildings when he had lung cancer but each time he brushed you off and told you he wasn’t going to give up his job.

Some nights you found yourself so consumed by fear it felt like you were going out of your mind, the idea of losing Owen…

Every time TK called you you got a burst of anxiety, expecting the worst and then having to swallow down how scared you had been for a second once he started talking and everything was fine. You had never been heavy on religion, never found much comfort in praying but you had spent countless nights since finding out praying to anyone who would listen that Owen would be ok.

“I know you are.” You told him, proud when your voice didn’t shake.

“You sound like you actually believe that.” Owen told you with a laugh and you couldn’t stop your smile from widening.

“Of course I believe it,” you told him, letting yourself focus on being with Owen, on making sure he was as ok as he could be and not having to worry about you. “You’ll be out of here before you know it.”

“It’s not so bad now that you’re here.” Owen smiled and you squeezed his hand again, watching as his eyes drifted down to them before he raised them to press a kiss against the back of yours. “Thank you for being here, sweetheart.”

“Nowhere else I’d rather be.” You told him, forcing your smile to stay in place and the tears to disappear before they had the chance to fill your eyes.

“I can think of a hundred different places I’d rather take you.” Owen chuckled and you found it easy to laugh with him causing his smile to grow.

“Soon you’ll get better and we can go wherever you want.” You grinned at him and he kissed your hand again as he smiled over at you, completely enamoured by you.

When he told you about his cancer he had expected you to put distance between the two of you, to put a stop to the flirting and the touches, the lingering gazes, he expected all of it to stop. Never in all the scenarios he had played out had he imagined you sat at his side at every doctor's appointment or chemo session, never had he pictured you squinting down at orange bottles, frowning at the long words and googling what they were.

He didn’t know what he had done to deserve you, it was a question he pondered before telling you about the cancer and it was a question that he couldn’t wrap his head around after telling you. He knew you were scared but no matter what you stuck to his side, if he tried to sneak away to throw up you were there with a glass of water and his toothbrush, if he needed a minute to catch his breath you were there comfortingly rubbing your fingers along his back. Whenever he needed you you were there and he thanked God for bringing you to him every day.

He’d get better, he’d seen the chemo out and do whatever the doctors asked of him if it meant he could make good on his promise to take you to the hundred other places he’d rather be with you, to experience a life and a future with you.

Owen Strand would get better and you would be there every step of the way.

---

Owen Strand Tag List (New Character, Add Yourself)  /

@navs-bhat​, @nashja​, @alexxavicry​, @deathjawd​

Thank you for reading!💖

[garbinge]

Prank Wars

Angel Reyes x F!Reader

Day 24 from these April Prompts: “Wholesome Pranks”

Summary: Prank Wars at the scrapyard!

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Angsty, Pranks, Cursing. Mentions of dead parents and family struggling with sickness and addiction. 

A/N: okay, so huge shoutout to Tay because she planted this fun little seed in my head for this fic!! 

Mayans Taglist: @drabbles-mc​ @justreblogginfics​ @narcolini​ @danzer8705

It had been a few years since you started working at the scrapyard, it wasn’t a luxurious job but it was one that not only paid the bills but gave you some extra in your pockets. Angel had hooked you up with the job when he saw you were struggling. Home wasn’t exactly a home, your parents weren’t alive anymore, hadn’t been since you were younger. It left you to live with your grandmother who hadn’t just taken you in but also your aunt and cousins. It was an overcrowded and overwhelming house and it sat 5 doors down from the Reyes house. It wasn’t instant but somewhere down the line as the years passed you became close with the eldest Reyes brother just doors down from you and now, as adults, he was your best friend. 

Angel originally had gotten you a job as barback at the clubhouse, and you were grateful for it. It saved you up enough money to get out of your grandma’s house and into your own space. Something small, or cozy as you called it, but your own. You had eventually worked your way into the scrapyard because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. Overhearing Bishop and Taza talk about numbers and manufacturer meetings and how business wasn’t doing too great as you served them beer was the first step into it. You offered your two cents on how to boost business, that turned into giving some occasional business advice. You had gotten an associates degree in business, opportunity was just lacking in Santo Padre. Eventually, you started pulling in buyers, which led you to where you were now. You had taken the scrapyard truck out to a potential buy, but were driving back with a loss. It had already started out as a rough morning and it was just getting rougher. 

It was days like this that you forgot about the multi-year long prank war that you had going with the guys in the club. It was something you and Angel had started prior to you getting close with the club and once it became known across the club, there was no way Gilly and Coco weren’t going to be apart of it. Now, the prank war wasn’t something front of the brain 24/7, that was the secret behind making it successful all these years. It was random. It was calculated but spontaneous all at the same time. 

You whipped open the door to the scrapyard office, it made Angel jump, a scene that would have brought you to laughter any other day but you ignored currently. 

“What the fucks got you twisted?” Angel was now standing, his sleeveless Romero Bros. work shirt covered in dirt and rust. 

“California fuckin’ Steel company. That’s who.” You threw your bag on the desk and placed your hands on your head in an act of stress. 

“Okaaaay,” Angel frowned and stepped out from behind the desk so he was standing to your right. “They’re always on some fuck shit, what’s really your issue?” He saw right through you, a perk and downfall of him knowing you so well. 

You took a deep breath and turned to look up at him as he towered over you. You saw the cuphead patch on his shirt and smirked. “You put the patch I gave you on.” 

Cuphead was a memory you two shared, sitting after school in front of the TV in the Reyes’ living room and playing until Marisol called out for dinnertime or Felipe unplugged the xBox to watch baseball. 

Angel looked down at his shirt and back at you, “Yea, I couldn’t put that shit on my kutte, I’d never hear the end of it.” 

You laughed and shook your head, when you gave him the patch you expected it to sit leaning on the outside of a picture frame in his house, not on any of his clothing items. 

“My grandma’s sick and my cousin, he’s fuckin’ on hooked on that shit again. It’s got him stealing and not just shit around the house but taking my grandma’s pills now.” 

“Fuck.” Angel whispered under his breath and looked away for a second before he was looking back down at you again. 

“It’s fine, I talked to my aunt, they’re looking to put my grandma into a home or something.” You rolled your eyes and let out a sigh.

“That’s bullshit, your grandma’s lived in that house practically her whole life they should send your junkie ass cousin away.” He was getting loud. 

“It’s out of my hands Angel,” You lifted your hands up in innocence “I offered for her to come stay at my place instead, but you know my aunt, she’s” you shook your hand in a way that was meant to describe your aunt as you turned around to look for your car keys. “You get a chance to look at my car yet?” 

After your third time having trouble starting your car, you had asked Angel if he could look at it, it wasn’t the same as giving it to a mechanic but Angel knew a thing or two about mechanics since having his bike. 

“Oh,” Angel went deep into thought, “uh, no.” He reached down and snatched the keys as you went to grab them yourself. 

You looked at him confused. 

“I’ve been up to my fuckin’ eyeballs in paperwork that I barely understand.” He pointed to the stack of manila folders on the table. “Haven’t had a chance to look at it.” 

“Oh alright, well, I’ll take the paperwork. Least I can do so you can fix my shit and save me the 200 bucks. I’ll be in the clubhouse if you need me.” 

“Aight.” Angel let his shoulders slump once you were out of the office. Gilly and Coco making their way into the office now. 

“Yo, you fuck with the wiper fluid and put that fake broken glass shit on her car?” Gilly chuckled as he walked in. 

“I’m bout to go take that shit out.” Angel sounded on edge. 

“The fuck for?” Coco asked, confused since he had thought it was a genius prank. 

“She’s got a lot going on man, it just ain’t the right time.” Angel was making his way out to reverse the pranks he had done to your car. 

“We gotta get them both.” Gilly said with a smirk once Angel was out of earshot. 

“Fuck yea we do.” Coco said, bringing a cigarette up to his mouth. 

_____

Angel calling out your name caused you to turn around. As you did, you realized the clubhouse had filled up since you had posted up to work in here. A few of the club guys and some hang arounds filling the tables surrounding you. 

“I fixed your car, needed a new battery. Nothing serious. Got one from Walmart.” Angel was making his way over to you and as he reached the seat next to you, he pulled the chair out and made himself comfortable before sliding the keys over to you. 

“Thanks, how much was it? I’ll send you the money.” You pulled your phone out. 

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Just have me over for dinner or some shit soon.” He smirked hoping it’d earn a smile from you as well. 

It did. You smiled and grabbed your keys from the table. 

“You know,” Angel started his sentence without a single thought about where it was really headed, not sure how to say the next few words. “Uh,” he leaned forward, clearly uncomfortable. 

“Spit it out, Angel.” You were now leaning forward too, placing your hand on Angel’s knee in hopes to get him to say whatever he was trying to. 

It did the opposite, it choked him up more until he finally just said it. “I was thinkin’, you could come stay with me if you wanted.” 

Your face twisted in muddled confusion which caused Angel to panic. “Nah I just mean, you know, your grandma might be comin’ to your place and I know you worked mad hard to get your whole bach pad situation and appreciate your alone time so I figured I’d offer my place up,” he said before practically cutting himself off to keep going. “And I know it wouldn’t be living alone but I’m usually always here anyways so you’d have the place to yourself way more than if you stayed with your grandma. I just figured it’d be worth the offer with everything going on–”

You cut Angel off as you lifted off your seat and wrapped your arms around him tightly. His seat pushed back a little from the force of your embrace, he sat there frozen for a second before he let his hands rest on your back. 

“Thank you.” You whispered as you hugged him tightly. A few whistles from the guys filled the air, a couple howls too as you embraced your best friend. It wasn’t shocking, it was a normal occurrence, everyone was in on you and Angel’s connection except the two of you. 

Before you had a chance to make a comment back to them, the clubhouse doors were busting open and Coco and Gilly were entering inside with water guns pointed directly at you and Angel. 

“Get wrecked motherfuckers!!!!!” Gilly screamed as the water gun pressured out gallons of water each time he pumped the gun. 

Out of instinct, Angel grabbed you around your waist as you two toppled behind the table in an attempt to block yourselves from their range. You let out a belly laugh as your backs leaned against the underneath of the table that was turned to its side. Angel looked over at you his frown turning into a smile. 

“We are so going to get them back for this.” 

Angel laughed at that. “In the 6 years we’ve been doing prank wars you never paired up with me once.” 

As you opened your mouth to answer you were hit immediately with a splash of water on your face. Quickly grabbing Angel’s hand you were up and running out of the club house. It was then that you realized Bishop and a few of the other guys were yelling at Coco and Gilly to knock it off but you kept a one track mind and just pulled Angel out to the yard with you. 

You kept moving until you were well into the scrapyard and you knew Coco and Gilly were probably being ripped a new one by Bishop so there wasn’t a chance they’d be able to get you out here. 

“Holy shit.” You laughed and looked up at Angel who was soaked from head to toe. “You’re drenched.” 

“Looks like we match.” Angel pointed to you with the hand that wasn’t still intertwined with yours. 

Your eyes looked down to see the water dripping off the hem of your work shirt and pooling to your feet in the sand/dirt medley on the scrapyard ground. 

“C’mon. We got some extra work shirts laying around, let’s get you one so you don’t have to ride home soaked.” 

“Your home.” You corrected him. His head snapped to you. “Think I might take you up on that offer.” 

Angel didn’t want to change your mind so he just nodded while saying nothing except that he’d get a key made for you. 

____

You ran a towel over your hair and were now changed into something dry for the most part as you got into your car. Your driver side window rolled down as Angel stood a few yards from you a lot less drenched than before but still sporting wet hair, his normal styled hair was sobbing wet and falling around his forehead. Gilly and Coco were on the porch of the clubhouse and you offered them both a smile and middle finger before starting to back up. 

“Thanks for fixing my car!” You went to beep the horn as a thanks when you heard the flag raise sound from the Cuphead game leave your horn. The high pitch glissando of someone sliding across the keys and the announcement of cuphead filling the air. 

Your jaw dropped and turned to Angel very slowly. His eyes were wide and he was immediately yelling out to you. 

“I thought I changed everything back!” 

You continued to back out and as you put the car in drive you said one last thing to Angel before leaving. 

“Oh it’s on, Reyes.”

[yarrystyleeza]

Feeding The First Bite

Requested by @itwasthereaminuteago

(so my thoughts on this are soft!matt with the ship dynamic: established relationship, and the tone is hurt/comfort and absolute utter fluff)

Word count: the range of 950 words! A little thing to brighten your day! <3

You and Matt have been dating for six months now, you first pumped into each others at Josie's during the spring break, you were having a girls night with your friends, playing games of pool and singing to karaoke machines, him and his friends were sitting at the counter having a drinking night after a long exhausting day at the court, you went to the counter to pick up the refills you've asked for.

"sorry." you pleaded as you had to pass between him and his friend to take the refills, "it's fine" he nodded with a shiny smile, "where's your table?" he gently asked as he stood up and held two glasses in his hands, "Matt, I can help her..." his friend begged, he shook his head, it was when you noticed the sight aid cane he held under his arm, "it's fine, Foggy, just lead me where you at," you wrapped your palm around his upper arm and walked to where you and your friends sat, you introduced him to them and had a couple of drinks and pool rounds together.

You stayed behind that night, Matt did too, after both of your friends left — you had another round of drinks, you talked together, and he seemed interesting, he had a great sense of humor, and he was truly nice. You exchanged numbers, and ever since that day you kept on meeting at the bar, sometimes your friends had your company, other times you went there by yourself, just to sit by him and talk about your week or day at work. And eventually, both of you confessed how much you liked each other, and decided to label your relationship as lovers.

He learned that you loved going to the park on the weekdays afternoons to take a break from work or clear your mind, and have clean air to breathe, — you let him into your world, and brought him to the park you loved, you walked with him, fingers locked upon each other, sat with him either on the benches or the fresh green grass — and had lunch together.

And every time you went there together, Matt always brought something new to try with you, whether it was sour candies, new Chinese food, weird soft drinks, anything that seemed odd to you and him; he believed that when you got into his life — you brought something new with you, and he wanted to be reminded of that each time you met.

You were sitting on the park seat reading a book, sinking in between the words, trying your best to forget how awful your day at work went, it was rough, and your boss was more asshole than he usually is, he yelled at you loud in front of everyone at the office — because you forgot to bring some papers, loud enough to make you walk silently to the bathroom and weep, and you did, you cried so loud and left the building, to sit here and try to clear your thoughts.

A poke in your leg interrupted your reading, you rose your nose from your book to see Matt standing in front of you, neat clothes and flowing hair, and a wide grin he wore, "hey y/n, how's your day going?", he said, butterflies jumping through his throat and into his voice, you aimed your eyes back down to your book, even though you know for sure he couldn't see how sad you are, "hey, Matt." your voice came out dead, and your tone was dull, damped in gloominess, utter painful vagueness, his shoulders fell, and a frown went up his face, he sat down next to you, his hand reached out to raise your face up to him, gently holding your chin up, "you're okay?" he pouted, he knew you weren't, but he wanted you to get the weight off your chest and talk to him, "no, not a good day at work," you confessed, voice cracking out a sob, "my boss was a little more of an asshole today," the tears you held back for hours went streaming hot on your cheeks, your lungs wheezed and in seconds you were melting into waterfalls, "it's okay, angel," he exhaled, and rounded you in a hug, he knows that you feel better with hugs.

"here, I brought you Dango's," he cheered, offering the weird looking lollipops, "I was walking by this Japanese store on my way here and thought you might wanna try it with me," he explained, as he took off the wrappers, "here, I want you to try it first, angel," with a smile full of sunshine — he closed the sweets to your lips for you to take the first bite, you smiled, and took a small bit of the lollies he offered.

It tasted like rice starch and sweet strawberries, covered with the stinging sweet soy sauce flavor, the savor melted down to warm your aching heart. You hummed and nodded as you chewed, he smiled and pecked your lips, you stuttered and blushed.

"I guess you liked it," he said, "I did--" you replied, but suddenly got hit by a wave of sadness, again, "hey, y/n, we can talk about that asshole later, okay? We'll figure it out together," you nodded, he wrapped your hands around your popsicle and took a bite, you couldn't contain the chuckle, "well, someone had to cheer your little heart, sweetheart," he said, holding your knuckles up to his lips, he pecked them both with the softest kisses, then let them go to place his lips on your temple, "the first bite tasted sweet and new, just like the day I met you, angel."

This was a request I've been trying to post for a reeeeaaally long time so here it is!!! Sorry for the late posting. 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

So so so sorry for taking so long

Edit: I will work on the second prompt asap!

Tell me what you think about this! And thanks for dropping the prompt! <3

Feel free to submit a prompt from this list in my ask (I only write for Matt Murdock)! <3