#and if you dump a lot of sugar and cream into it you can almost pretend it's just a strong tea

[ghostofasecretary]

Pumpkin's Grief Disaster Cookies

yesterday morning my grandpa died, and i wore as close to all-black as i could to work, and i came home and made cookies without a recipe

they're pumpkin walnut! they're tasty! the yield is about 15 per batch, and they take about 15 minutes to bake at 410F. you'll probably want 2 cookie sheets or an extra large one to minimize the long cooking time, but thankfully these are tasty right out of the oven. housemate reviews: "Oh wow! That is so lovely, actually, I would never have guessed you made these without a plan." "It's so good!" they have a cakey, fluffy, chewy bit with a lightly crunchy bottom edge. you can customize the chewiness to crunch ratio a bit (see the picture at the end of the post for reference), but 410 is my personal favorite. i'm going to put the polished recipe before the cut and my actual recipe development process/personal notes below. i want to note that this was inspired by justine_snacks' pumpkin tiramisu cookie recipe, the short for which i saw in the parking lot after getting home from seeing friends, as well as knowing that you really do not need egg in pumpkin recipes after i made her pumpkin bars with chai caramel and cardamom crumble for thanksgiving. (that is the most extra, labor intensive baking recipe i've ever made, and one of my friends described them as the lembas of sweets and is still working on the leftovers. very complex and tasty.) my cookies are less flavorful than i'm sure the tiramisu ones are, but they're wholesome and light and comforting. i do think a pumpkin spice or maple glaze would be really lovely if you wanted them to be sweeter wet ingredients: - 140g unsweetened pumpkin puree - 175g white granulated sugar - 75g dark brown sugar - 1 stick unsalted butter, lightly softened - 1 stick salted butter, lightly softened - 60g unflavored greek yogurt (if the whey has separated since the last time you opened your container, that's fine, just pour it in and then add some of the normal yogurt till you get to 60g) dry ingredients: - approximately 310g white all purpose flour - 30g walnuts (could definitely use more) - 2 teaspoons baking powder fictitious, untried instructions for how a reasonable person might assemble these ingredients: 1. cream butter, sugar and pumpkin puree, until the butter has separated and no large chunks remain; there should still be visible spots of butter and the consistency should be very liquidy

2. lightly fold in yogurt with stand or hand mixer

3. mix together 200g of flour and 2 teaspoons of baking powder; fold together with a spatula, as the dough will be too sticky for your mixer

4. add 30g walnut and another, i dunno, 100-120g of flour; fold till you get a dense, slightly sticky dough (still easily handled) that tastes like it will be good when baked. it should look something like this:

5. chill batter for 15-20 minutes; preheat oven to 410

6. scoop onto a parchment-lined cookie sheet with an ordinary tablespoon or a large cookie scoop if you have one

7. bake for 14-16 minutes (15 was about right for me, but you might check them earlier). a toothpick or fork inserted into the largest part should come out almost entirely clean and the bottom should be a light golden brown

8. chill on a baking sheet before storing; enjoy hot or cold! the cookies will soften over time, so enjoying them the night of or day after baking is best.

anyways, that's it for Fictional Recipe town, see below for how to actually recreate what i did last night

get home around 4pm and decide to use up the pumpkin puree left over from your thanksgiving baking in something. (thanksgiving baking is also the only reason you have both salted and unsalted butter in your fridge)

dump pumpkin on top of two sticks of unsoftened butter, just straight out of the fridge

put frantically back into jar so you can weigh it, like, at least vaguely. the scale showed exactly 140g but it could be lying because this was A Mess

let butter soften; take out your feelings by slapping it real hard with a spatula

sort 200g chana dal and 150g red lentils on a cookie sheet and preheat the oven to 400, which is probably a baking temperature, who knows, whatever!

add sugar

use hand mixer to cream butter, sugar, and pumpkin together till your liquid only has medium-small clumps of butter instead of huge ones. consider that you could continue mixing until it looks fluffy and nice. refuse

thoroughly wash and strain lentils and soak in a large mason jar

lick the batter off the ~wire whips~

add 200 (actually 205) g flour; stir

then add 30g walnuts and decide that since Justine Snacks' recipe had marscapone, yogurt is probably a good idea. dump the separated whey of your greek yogurt into the bowl along with the walnuts, about 8 grams, and then scoop out more yogurt-y yogurt till you get to 60g

add 2tsp baking powder directly to your disaster; stir

decide it needs more flour

at this point, stop noticing the numbers on your food scale

add, uh. 75g flour? fold

then add 50g flour? maybe 25g? 33?? i did not really take enough note

fold

taste batter; decide it is acceptably edible

start cooking lentils; chill batter till you're done cleaning dishes

nevermind, actually change out of your work clothes and put on your headphones and put soap in your dishes and then line sheet with parchment paper and scoop onto the sheet with a tablespoon and your hands. these are fairly large cookies but i at no point measured the pre-cooked weight of any of my dough balls or the post-cooked weight

set in oven and go bake 7 min at 400

wash dishes

take cookies out at 7 minutes; they are wildly overbaked

set a timer for 3 minutes; bake for 3.5 because you got distracted washing dishes

poke with fork; the cookie will completely fall apart in the center; eat the central goop. salmonella from flour the WHOMST and anyway you already ate it raw

stick back in the oven for another 3 minutes

put lentils in a pot with a tsp of turmeric and some canola oil; start boiling

cookies still look sad after 3 minutes but the edges are getting golden! go for another 2

NOW the fork comes out clean. so, nice crispy edge + clean toothpick after 15.5! however that is so long. let's gradually try, um. 410?

bake for 10 minutes; eat one of the first cookies

take out after 10 minutes; they have a noticeable edge now but the center turns to Destroyed Goop again with a fork

turn lentil heat down slightly and take away some of the scum; realize you still failed to get all the sus lentils out of your batch

feed one of the first batch to your housemate

after another 2 minutes the cookies are STILL GOOP

burn your finger putting them back in the oven; rinse with water

bake for another 2 minutes

...nope, that's still underbaked. 4 me.

1 minute later, well, that was 15 minutes, only 30 seconds less than 400. bottom looks darker. weird

decide that you want a cookie that COOKS QUICKLY, so even though the edges will probably darken too fast and they could burn, crank the oven up to 425

start very slowly peeling onions for your dal

wrestle with the by now VERY chill dough; thankfully given the amount of butter it softens well

put your 3 cookies on the sheet; bake for 7 minutes

roughly dice the first 2 onion halves

rinse your hands, check the cookies. wow the edges look much darker than either of the first two batches

set timer for another 3 minutes

dice the next half onion

...the bottoms are burning and the center OOZES goop. the top of these guys just looks. so underbaked

heat 3ish tbsp canola oil in skillet; move lentils to the back burner so you have room to take the cookies out on the stovetop

set timer for another 2 minutes

welp. that is going to burn. switch oven off and chill while you start getting the rest of your dal together. finishing dicing onion, start dicing tomatoes (about 280g of each), after onion is chopped put in 1tsp mustard seeds and 1tsp cumin seeds and a 1" ish piece of cinnamon and a bay leaf and one snapped dry red chili in your hot oil

then very roughly dice some ginger

turn stove down and add said ginger

then stick your onion in and cook for around five minutes

stick cookies back in the chilling oven for, idk, 2 minutes? 5?

finish dicing tomato

add tomato and cook

add a dash of cinnamon, a dash of turmeric, 1tsp cumin power, 1/4 tsp coriander powder, 3/4tsp kashmiri red chili powder, 3/4 tsp cardamom, 1/2 tsp salt and cook with the tomato on low heat

your mom calls to talk about your flight back home for the funeral; talk to her and also your grandma.

feel sad and add lentils slowly to pot with spices

bring to a delicate boil

taste, decide it needs some extra something, and add about a tsp garam masala and stir. also a dash more cinnamon powder

did i mention the cookies are now all chilling on the drying rack? that's happening

heat 1tbsp unsalted butter and then add 1.25tsp mustard seeds; let splutter; temper dal

turn off the heat

try one of the crispy cookies (425 batch) and feed to your other housemate, who likes them despite not seeming like a huge dessert person

decide that fresh-ish as they are this bottom is too crispy and the rest of the cookie is too detached from it, texturallly; go for 410 then next time you do something like this and accept the long cooking time

pour dal over 45g spinach to wilt it; eat and enjoy

make your housemate also eat some dal

do dishes till about 9:30

go to bed with extreme reluctance

plan to share your cookies with IRL friends and also the internet

grief is weird. my grandpa is dead. cookies are good.

here are the 400 at 15.5 minutes (bottom right), 410 at 15 (bottom left), and 425 at 12 + cooling oven time (top), so you can see what i mean about the bottoms being different colors:

there's lots of tumblr posts that are like "cooking is done by feel, baking is a SCIENCE" and i'm sure that's true if you care a lot about quality but. like. baking can be as chaotic as you want it to be. at the end you will, if nothing else, have sweet goop. and at best you'll have taken an awful day and a lot of sadness and made a recipe you're glad to share.

happy Friday!

[hiorintruther]

The scans have been out a few days now so I’m posting this. We just got Hiori’s backstory so let me expel more Hiorin headcanons onto you good people (seriously why are we so delusional abt this ship???) — obviously massive spoiler warning as of chapter 206 of the manga.

Also a cw for child abuse — these hcs pretty much all deal with their trauma:

Hiori and Rin have had a very long, very depressing trauma dump conversation about their families.

Rin has decided to add Hiori’s parents to the ‘I’ll fucking kill them’ list inside his head… which he totally has for no reason in particular…

Hiori likewise understands Rin’s resentment towards Sae deeply and doesn’t blame him at all for feeling so angry and upset.

The fact that the family members they hate are all telling them they aren’t good enough as they are (Sae explicitly, Hiori’s parents implicitly) ends up becoming a means of mutual understanding between them, allowing Hiori to feel a bit safer around Rin and Rin to not hate Hiori like he does the rest of Blue Lock.

Rin has tried to subtly allude to the idea that Hiori can move in with him at any time to get away from his family. Hiori has only half picked up on the signals though because a) Rin is shit at communicating anything nice, and b) Rin’s almost year younger than Hiori so it doesn’t actually make much sense to do that but it’s the thought that counts.

A lot of their conversations take place in the monitor room, in the dark, where they feel safest being vulnerable with each other (aka: see my fic on AO3).

Hiori has used dry, dark humour as a coping mechanism in front of Rin before and Rin has started doing it too occasionally.

So many “lol I hate my family, I hope they die, jk… unless?” jokes.

They end up having a mutual understanding for one another and can almost subconsciously pick up on when something reminds the other of their trauma.

For some more domestic, outside/no Blue Lock hcs (there’s a ton of food-related ones here idk why):

When they make dinner, Rin is sure to mix a healthy, balanced meal with convenience store foods coz Hiori hates eating a very strict diet. It reminds Hiori of the way his parents used to control everything about his life down to what he ate. Sometimes, Rin even makes a separate meal for himself because he wants to calorie count and know exactly what he’s eating, but Hiori’s had a bad day and really needs some instant ramen and pudding.

Hiori doesn’t have a big sweet tooth though, as a result of his parents’ conditioning. He didn’t grow up accustomed to sweet things so he finds anything too sugary difficult to eat (this comes from the egoist Bible where his least favourite food is cotton candy because of the sugar content). His love of salty food however is through the roof and Rin has to remind him to check the sodium contents on the meals he chooses at the convenience store.

Rin has stopped insulting or talking badly about Isagi around Hiori, purely because Hiori feels safe around Isagi. It’s a challenge, and mostly they try to keep Isagi out of their conversations altogether, but if he does come up Rin attempts to be neutral.

Sometimes, Hiori holes himself up in his computer room playing shooters. When that happens, Rin knows to leave him alone until he’s out of his slump, because it’s usually a sign that Hiori is remembering some bad memories. They both like their own space anyway, so it isn’t as if much changes in their routines.

While Hiori’s in a slump, Rin restocks their fridge with energy drinks and instant meals so Hiori can dip in and out to get food when he wants it. He eats alone unless Hiori texts him saying he’ll be out to get food.

Rin also doesn’t bring up anything to Hiori once Hiori re-emerges from his room, letting Hiori come to him if he wants to talk about it. Hiori knows Rin struggles with dealing with trauma, so he usually leaves it.

Once when Rin was having a particularly stressful time, Hiori bought him a whole box of his favourite ice creams (the ones he used to get on the way home from practice) and they had a competition to see who could get the most “winner” sticks. Rin won.

Hiori has also attempted to learn how to cook so he can make Rin food when Rin isn’t feeling up to cooking. Rin says he’ll just order takeout but Hiori insists on trying some of his recipes. How successful he is varies on how easy it is to throw the ingredients in a pan and let them simmer.

When sleeping together, they usually stick to their own sides of the bed but sometimes when Hiori is feeling upset he reaches out to Rin as a comfort. Rin isn’t the best at providing said comfort, but he lets Hiori into his arms in those moments.

On the flip-side, if Rin has been feeling angry or frustrated because of Sae, Hiori will slowly snake his arms around Rin’s torso and hug him close, becoming the big spoon despite being smaller. Rin places his hand over Hiori’s as a reassurance that he feels reassured doing this.

Sometimes, but not always, this nighttime cuddling leads to talking about their pasts. Rin always holds Hiori very close and says that Hiori was never in the wrong and never deserved to go through anything that happened as a result of his parents’ expectations (usually with a lot of colourful language). Hiori likewise will do the same for Rin whenever Sae gets brought up, although he’s less vulgar. His words are somehow even more scathing though.

They both find it easier to open up in the dark. It feels like a safety blanket that can hide their vulnerability, especially for Rin.

[tuhbanbuv]

EWJ AU and Headcanons:

Guess people wanna hear my AU bullshit lol /j

I have a fuck ton I had to dump in a notepad and try to organize it.

Jim:

Jim can get drunk off of ice cream and fro-yo because the sugar fucks up with his system so much.

Jim curls up in the neck of her supersuit when she's too tired to reach her bed or overstimulated.

Jim is bigender him/her lesbian, Psycrow is bi, Professor is gay, Peter is gay as well.

Jim's full legal name is Jim/Kim Clayton, and she switches between he/him and she/her pronouns. Just don't call him an "it".

Jim is dyslexic, autistic and has a TBI.

Jim got her name from a grave she discovered in New Junk City. She didn't know anything about gender and stuff at the time, so she just assumed the masculine persona that people gave her due to her voice and suit. This would end up biting her in the ass years later.

Insectika courting rituals are much different than human courting rituals. WHN didn't know Jim was interested in her until he accidentally proposed to her in an Insectika tradition. After a bit of back and forth they began properly dating afterwards.

Princess WHN:

Snott is actually WHN's pet, he only sticks around Jim because of the snacks he forgets he puts into his suit's backpack and Snott is very much a glutton.

Princess WHN is also autistic, but she wouldn't know until Saturn was diagnosed as autistic.

WHN is part human part Insectikette, her true heritage and birth being the catalyst for her sister taking up the throne and mother's murder because the royal family was basically advocates for eugenics. It did not end well for all parties involved, big shocker there.

WHN LOVES human food, especially pizza. She'll be completely distracted if someone offers her food. Want to make her happy, give her food.

WHN thinks that a lot of Creepypastas are real, even the bad ones. She has spent at least a couple nights searching to bring down Jeff The Killer and Slenderman only to be dragged back home by Peter.

WHN often enters in strongman contests, and has several first place trophies from them.

Peter/Amos:

Peter's parents were used in animal experimentation an attempt to make the strongest fighting dog known to man. When the ring was broken up and arrested, the dogs were sent to a farm where Peter would be born as the run of the litter, only to be adopted by a young Addie.

Peter was adopted by Addie and her family when he was a normal puppy. As he was a runt rejected by his bio mom and adopted as a newborn, Peter was 100% convinced Addie was his real mom. Even if he knows he's adopted, he still calls her his mom.

Peter is a Jack Russel-Beagle mix, though he's technically now a hellhound.

Peter does most of the housework, at least the ones involving chemicals and flammable equipment because Jim is very accident-prone.

Peter is around 20-30 during the main canon. He aged up in dog years as a normal dog only for his biological age to slow down when he became Amos' vessel akin to that of a human. He'll probably live for 100-200 years though.

Peter is very small for his breed and was often mocked for it. Now, he uses it to his advantage because seeing WHN or Psycrow pause in shock as he gets drinks at a bar is hilarious to him.

Amos is Peter's demon and later lover. Originally Satan's right-hand man…until a certain cat came along and ruined it for him.

Peter has six puppies, named Paimo, Rono, Molo, Bapho, Corso, and of course, Solo. They all have some sort of demonic power thanks to Peter's demon and their other parent, Amos. If you understand the naming scheme for them you get a free cookie.

Amos can take up a form almost like Venom when he's going parrot-mode on Brock, just chilling in Peter's shadow. Except Peter's shadow now has eyes and a mouth and scares the shit out of everyone he comes across while doing errands.

Peter is Amos' longest-lasting vessel, as most of the others died from being murdered in witch hunts or took their own lives. He only made himself known to Peter after he temporarily died after a mission gone wrong because he was so impressed with Peter that he had to see him in the flesh.

Peter has severe anxiety, and honestly, who can blame him? Though he usually medicates it with those dog CBD treats and weed whenever he can. Addie Newman:

Addie is part Corvidian part human, with her biological mother unknown and potentially dead. Addie has a suspicion that Psycrow is her biological father, however.

Addie is currently dating Grayson, president of the Earthworm Jim Fanclub. As you can imagine, the meet the parents dinner went as well as you'd expect.

Addie has a large mixed family, biological and adopted, including her adoptive fathers, David and Mike, and her adoptive baby sister, Penelope.

Addie had anger issues in her childhood, once overthrew the leader of a gang in less than ten minutes, got expelled from several schools before the age of ten, amongst other things. Her parents went to adopt her a puppy in hopes it would help her, leading to her picking the runt of the litter, Peter. Peter would help Addie immensely...until he was separated from her when he fell through a portal to Heck.

Addie kept and wore Peter's collar on her person until she would eventually try to summon Evil to retrieve Peter herself, fully knowing and accepting that she would have to sacrifice her own life according to Evil. Jim would save her and Peter and became her friend.

Addie is still a delinquent but is more geared towards vigilante justice rather than purposeful crime. She wouldn't outright say it, but Peter and Jim saved her life.

Psycrow would discover a baby Addie abandoned while he was doing drug trades. He would take Addie in for the first three years of her life until ultimately deciding to give her up to an earth couple so she wouldn't be killed due to his criminal career. The two would later reunite and Psycrow would be accepted in the Newman family after he permanently put his criminal days behind him.

Saturn, Solo and Bessie:

Saturn is selectively mute, and Solo often speaks for her when they do missions

Saturn hardly speaks even as an adult, usually only hissing or screeches. She of course knows how and can speak quite well, but just prefers not to.

Saturn was born with just her arms as a lot of baby Insectoids/Insectikettes have a "larval stage", and much like Saturn did, grow their legs later on, usually as a toddler.

Saturn can curl up like a cat, and usually does this to fit in human chairs/seats/etc.

Saturn lets Solo and the other pups ride on her back. Seeing as she's literally a giant centipede and can fit all 6 of the pups on her back at once

Saturn considers Bessie her sister/half-sister due to their parents being clones. Bessie hates her guts, so the feeling is not mutual :(

WHN stressed and worried over not being a good mother to Saturn. She was ultimately worried over nothing, as Saturn is technically the only member of the royal family that had loving parents.

Solo was completely convinced that Saturn was a dog much like her and the other puppies until Peter had to try to explain otherwise. For five straight hours.

After a mission gone wrong, Evil Jim was sucked into a wormhole and presumed dead. Jim tried to take in Bully Bessie and it worked for a while until she ran away as a preteen and assumed Evil Jim's role. She works endlessly to find her dear papa and will not hesitate to find any way to save him, even if it means backstabbing her "sister". And she'd gladly do so.

Bessie is part jaguar, part piranha, part scorpion and radioactive cow, as Evil Jim wanted to make her with every advantage known to man.

Bessie ironically enjoys using butcher knives and cleavers as her weapons of choice, considering Evil Jim's guns as "too quick". Creepy.

Evil Jim didn't know what sex/gender Bessie was at birth and still doesn't, so he just let Bessie choose her clothes even as a baby.

Solo, despite being the smallest of her siblings, is pretty much the litter's leader. Mess with her family and you'll beg for death. She makes her fathers proud though Peter is a bit worried.

Solo can see and speak with the dead.

[tortoisebore]

i love ur little rambles so what do u think the losers coffee orders and music taste is (in hey sharpshooter or otherwise) 🤲

ooooo oooo ooo yes yes yes

((TORTOISE LORE on the days i have to work onsite at my job i almost exclusively set up shop at the coffee place across from the office & listen to my little music & drink my little beverages all day so this particular set of questions resonates with me so bad))

for consistency's sake coffee-wise let's say we're talking starbucks. i think most days sirius would go for something high in caffeine but with a little sweetness to it. a venti iced shaken espresso with oat milk and three pumps of classic sweetener, perhaps. maybe switch that classic out for chestnut praline at the holidays bc he's feeling festive. other days i think he'd want an absolute sugar bomb as a reward for getting through a rough week or bc he was really mature today and refrained from screeching at people in the street when they didn't walk fast enough & blocked the sidewalk when he was in a hurry. on those days he requires a big ole mocha cookie crumble frap or an iced cinnamon dolce latte with an extra shot for fun.

on his walk home he's listening to one of three playlists depending on the day. the first one is a fourteen hour pop girlie playlist that starts with style by taylor swift and ends with kiss me more by doja cat, with some ariana, gaga, spice girls, charli, no doubt, & even some abba thrown in the middle for spice. the second playlist is for mocha cookie crumble days and starts with your best american girl by mitski and features lots of phoebe, lots of taylor, lots of lana, some ethel cain for sure, some select fleetwood mac, maybe some stuff from the 1975's a brief inquiry album. it's all stuff he can dig into & be angsty with & have strong feelings to.

the third is a more generic thought-dump kind of playlist where he just throws in songs he likes. buttercup by hippo campus. the view from the afternoon by arctic monkeys. concussion by girlhouse. ilysb by lany. like....,.,moonage daydream. 6 inch. pink pony club. bring it on home. just a mix of vibes and genres & things he gets stuck in his head.

contrary to popular belief i do think remus is a coffee girlie and would pick a mug of good dark roast drip over tea any day. i think he's simple for the most part & would go after a good tall americano on days he needs the kickstart but a grande drip with light cream would be his everyday go-to. during the summers he switches to a cold brew or plain iced coffee with cold foam if he's feeling fancy. he likes to pretend he doesn't like the frilly expensive drinks but every time he & sirius get coffee together, sirius orders him a grande mocha with two extra pumps of mocha and whipped cream on top & he downs it in about eight seconds.

remus is a hozier stan confirmed. remus is a boygenius stan confirmed. he likes poetic lyrics more than anything so sirius puts him on mitski and taylor. i like the idea that his music taste was a little outdated most of his life bc his parents had a huge record collection that they inherited from his grandparents so he just....played music all the time as a lonely little kid looking for things to do. when he was nine the only album he listened to all christmas break was otis redding's the dock of the bay & that made him gravitate toward stuff like leon bridges & amy winehouse as he got older. he learned about spotify four years after everyone else did & still only has two playlists. his parents loved the 90s rock girlies and they listened to a lot of the cranberries and fiona apple CDs around the house, so all those albums are really nostalgic for him now. he puts sirius on jeff buckley & regrets it instantly bc literally all he does now is play remus' grace vinyl full-volume and remus is afraid they're going to get a noise complaint. you can hear it in the stairwell sirius the neighbors are going to get mad please

[delphiniumarchangelmoon]

Specifically I just did something to satisfy an ice cream craving

It’s like halfway between cold hot chocolate and a milkshake. I didn’t have ice cream but I had 2% milk, chocolate chips, ice, and a blender so I did this:

Make a moderately thick ganache, which is so much easier than it sounds. Get milk that’s almost simmering, dump a pile of chocolate in it, and wait like 3-5 minutes before stirring it together. If you don’t need it to set and harden it can be any milk.

Then you pour that into a blender, add lots of ice, and blend! If you want it sweeter you can add sugar to the ganache but I found it perfect with just semi sweet chocolate chips, it gave a way more “frozen hot chocolate” vibe than a “icy chocolate milk” vibe and I could drink way more of it without getting sick of the taste. Actually come to think of it this may just be what frozen hot chocolate is. I never bothered to look it up I was just freestyling.

And I had some left overs that I’m saving for tomorrow morning to make myself a mocha frappe

"craving a food means your body needs something that food can offer" now what the fuck does my body need with an ice cream

[meerschweinchen-archive]

I've become a coffee person. horrible

[soleilnomoon]

CONGRATS ON 555+ FOLLOWERS!! THATS AMAZING!! AND AN OPPORTUNITY TO THROW IN A REQUEST TOO?? DONT MIND IF I DOO~

may I order a caramel mocha latte, with a konpeitō, a lemon drop, and a candy necklace? and maybe a dollop of whipped cream too? the name for the order will be Trafalgar Law from One Piece, please! 👉👈🥹🥰💕✨

omg thank you so much, i really appreciate that 🤭💛💕also thank u for your patience, this was a beast to write - law is impossible and i'm stubborn, but i finished it and survived (i hope u survive too) <3 please enjoy your sugar rush ༺♥༻❀༺♥༻

4.2k words (i know, i know), fem reader, nsfw, 18+ mdni, fluff (somewhere, it's there, believe me), a bit of angst bc i'm a sucker for that stuff, and a lot of smut; modern/office au (hope u don't mind), fake dating/marriage; law's a little mean but reader dishes it right back & has a solid bite, so it balances out, i think; also lots of pining and flirting, tiny bit of jealousy, etc.

“absolutely not.”

you place your coffee mug onto the counter and stare, wide-eyed at the tall bastard before you. trafalgar law is the most audacious man you’ve ever met, and even more so, he insists himself upon you whenever he can — almost as if he gets off on seeing you fly off the handle and mouth off at him. men who are handsome like him — dark, enigmatic, a force to be reckoned with if you’re not careful — are a complication that you don’t need in your life.

“a favor,” he says, leaning against the counter, towering over you in a way that makes you want to slap him, “and it’ll just be for one night.” 

again you stare, and shake your head, curls bouncing around in defiance, almost as if they too agree with your decision.

“no. i don’t know how many more times i need to say it for you to get it through your thick skull.”

you’re laying it on thicker than necessary, but the truth of the matter is, law makes you nervous. most people don’t; if anything, you’re the one who intimidates others. but him? you can’t accurately get a read on him, nor can you ever guess what he’s thinking. he always looks at you as if he’s figured you out, giving you sly smiles that make you want to dump your coffee on him daily. your friends say you overreact, your mother implies that there’s something going on between you two — made worse by the fact that law is too damn good at buttering her up with his politeness — and your coworkers are under the impression that you’re one argument away from fucking in the break room.

you don’t know which of those is worse.

“you’re being dramatic,” he counters, tongue running along his bottom lip as he considers switching tactics; you get distracted, stare at his mouth a little too long, which of course catches his attention. a smirk slips onto his lips as he leans forward. “i’ll make it worth your while.”

a scoff leaves your mouth faster than you can stop it. 

he presses his lips together and tries again. “let’s make a bet, then. if i win, you’ll be my date for my friend’s party.” a wedding anniversary of all things; a completely useless affair, but law is loyal to a fault, and he already said he was going and bringing someone. everyone else annoys him, except you; so naturally you’re the perfect candidate. it also helps that he knows you’re as attracted to him as he is to you — you’re just stubborn as hell.

“go on,” you say wearily and dump the remainder of your coffee out in the sink. “what happens when you lose?”

it’s not cockiness that drives him to say, “i won’t lose, but if it does happen, i’ll let you have one of my high profile clients.”

a lucrative deal, one that has you roll your bottom lip in between your teeth, and internally debate as you consider the slight possibility of you losing. on the other hand, if you win you’ll walk out with the satisfaction of beating law at his own game, and scoring another client; this might actually work if you put your mind to it.

“what’s the bet?” you narrow your eyes at him but lose a bit of nerve when you see the heated glance he sends your way; you busy yourself with rinsing your mug out several times over for some reason, the water cold enough to shake those pesky thoughts away from your mind.

law’s mouth curves into a devilish grin as he drops his voice. “i can help you with your,” he pauses, giving you a knowing look, one that brings a silly flush to your face, “little problem.”

if your rising blood pressure doesn’t kill you, his incessant teasing will. “what ‘little’ problem is that?” you’re already regretting this, but you’re too curious to not see this through. “whatever it is, i doubt you’ll actually be able to help, as useless as you are.” it’s not true, he’s far from useless, but you know that if you feed him a compliment, you’ll regret that too. 

“see that’s why your problem will never go away,” he sighs at that before continuing, “i’m talking about the problem where you can’t seem to cum no matter what you do.”

he has more to say, but you shoot forward and clamp your hands around his mouth — his foolish, stupid mouth — muffling the rest of whatever nonsense he wants to spew. “who told you that?” your voice comes out in a harsh whisper, which only makes him laugh behind your hand, his breath tickling your palm, your face growing hotter as you look around to make sure that no one else is around.

there’s no way he’ll reveal that, but you look so cute when you’re all determined like that.

law pries your hands off of him. “it doesn’t matter. so, what do you say?”

you have so many questions, but know if you hurl them at him left and right, he might be prompted to do something and you’re not prepared for what he has in store for you. 

“let me get this straight. if you somehow manage to make me cum,” your voice is so soft, he has to lean close to hear you properly, “i have to accompany you to your friend’s party.”

“it’s a simple bet, really.”

nothing about the bet is simple, but the point is that you’re fairly certain you can win this — if you remain strong, that is.

“fine.” 

you steel your face, hoping that your lip stops quivering so you can appear every bit as unaffected as you claim you are. he doesn’t buy the act, and leans forward, his face just a breath away, the tip of his nose grazing yours; you’re sure he’s going to kiss you and, on instinct, your lips part — you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious or excited over the possibility. 

law tilts his head slightly, envisioning the satisfying checkmate that lies in his future, eyelids lowering, partially obscuring his amber eyes; you swallow thickly and don’t bother taking a step back. you know if you do, you’ll lose — and you’re not sure if the bet has started or not, but you need all the strength you can muster to survive. 

“wonderful,” he says, voice resonant — vibrating against your skin, another bothersome flush stretching over your cheeks, making it impossible to breathe — “see you later, then.” and then, he straightens up and walks away.

small, crescent-shaped indents appear on your palms from how deeply you sink your nails into your skin. it’s not anger you feel at him, so much as it is agitation with yourself. if only he could be a little more predictive, you’d have the upper hand. but, as you watch his retreating form, you realize, belatedly, that maybe — just maybe — you’ve bitten off more than you can chew. you don’t like the thought of that, at all.

you expect him to find you after work, but he leaves early; strange, but not entirely abnormal. to say you’re disappointed wouldn’t be untrue, but you have no intention of openly admitting that. the following morning, he comes in late, grinning and joking with the manager, loud enough to catch your attention. you carefully peek outside of your office, doing your best to look casual and inconspicuous; he feels you watching him, but since your attitude needs a bit of taming, he ignores you. 

normally, law finds a reason to appear at your office around lunchtime, always inviting you to eat with him and a few others — and, while you tend to decline more often than not, you feel a bit unsettled when he doesn’t come by. strange. very, very strange. on the third day you’re sure you’re losing your mind. he hasn’t spoken to you in 72 hours — you haven’t been counting, that would be absurd — which should bring you some semblance of peace and joy, but it doesn’t. 

disappointment makes your coffee taste sour. it sits in your stomach, hard like concrete, impossible to digest, and even more annoying to chip away at.

you think about the way he almost kissed you — and you were very sure he was going to kiss you, if you hadn’t been so opposed to him crowding routinely crowding your space — and the way your skin never fully recovered, a feverish madness taking over your mind, filling every crevice of your thoughts with images of him — his lips, his long fingers, the way he always seems to have some sort of inside joke with himself whenever he looks at you. 

it affects your attitude at work; you snap at your coworkers, refuse to participate in whatever menial meeting the manager tries to drag you to, and spend most of your day in your office. until you can’t take it anymore.

four days, that’s all it takes. he’s impressed with your resolve and even more impressed with the fact that you haven’t cursed him and his future descendants to hell and back for keeping you at bay. he knows that you’re like a dog with a bone, eager to investigate, determined to see things through immediately. but law is much more feline, and enjoys the hunt more than anything. he didn’t know how much longer he could keep away from you, but he’s very grateful that you’ve finally made up your mind about things.

you stomp over to his office on the other end of the hall, barging in, irritation prickling underneath your skin at the sight of one of the temp workers leaning over his desk and going above and beyond with showing him some simple graphs she put together. you don’t like the way her fingers graze his, don’t like the way she intentionally drops her voice to whisper something unintelligible at him, and you really don’t like how he glances up at you, a slow, amused grin spreading onto his lips with ease.

the other woman glances over at you, confusion etched into her pretty face; you absolutely detest her right now. 

“umm,” she starts, straightening up, eyes widening at the sight of you. her nervousness should be a sign for you to ease up a bit, but you don’t. “hi, i’m not sure we’ve met properly yet, but i’m—”

you glance at her for no longer than a few seconds, your indifference pushing you to curtly say, “move.” she stutters over her words, not quite understanding, so you say it in a different way. “get. out.” of the office, you mean. she doesn’t wait for you to say it again. when the door shuts behind her, you march over to him, lips fixed in a thin line, eyes blazing as you jab a manicured finger against his chest. the sight is plenty unprofessional, what with the top buttons of his shirt undone, his jacket draped lazily over the back of his chair, the sleeves of his button up rolled up and exposing his thick forearms. 

you try to ignore it all, but you can’t.

“you,” there’s nothing else you want to say, nothing else you can say; you’ve already scared off the newbie, you know there will be a memo or meeting about it later. but you don’t care; you really, truly don’t. “what is your problem?”

he supposes he likes this side of you best — the petty, jealous side, the one you try to keep hidden but can’t help but let out whenever you feel threatened in the shallowest way. still, he knows better than to say this out loud; he’d like to leave the office in one piece today.

“that was unnecessarily harsh of you,” he says in lieu of answering your question. you’re normally not that venomous, but for some reason, you felt compelled — jealousy is not something you deal with well, and you know you’ll need to apologize properly later, but you can’t think about that right now. all you can think about is somehow wiping that disgustingly handsome look off his face. law grabs your wrist, his long, tattooed fingers wrapping around it securely, the contact from his skin searing you, stirring a frenzy within you, making you want impossible things all at once. your breath catches in your throat the moment he pulls you onto his lap, your brain ceasing any functional capabilities as you straddle him, skirt riding up higher, exposing your thighs, your skin smooth and silky to the touch.

all your fight leaves your body as you concede to your desires.

“took you long enough to come to me.” he presses a single, burning kiss against the inside of your wrist, setting your body and nerves aflame. “four days is a long time, y/n… i’m not a patient man.” he really isn’t, but for you, he always will be.

you roll your eyes, do your best not to whimper when he kisses your other wrist, all your self-preservation and stubbornness melting away. “it’s your fault,” you say childishly, earning a quiet chuckle from him. “you said…”

he raises a brow at you, prompting you to continue.

your nerves almost get the best of you, but you don’t let them win. “you were going to—”

“make you cum, yes.” you’re taking much too long, and the softness of your body only makes it that much more difficult to concentrate on your words; he doesn’t bother hiding his erection, nor does he seem to mind when you jerk your hips against his when he kisses the palm of your hand. 

“god, are you going to make me say it?” you can’t believe him; if you had the energy, you’d slap him, you really would — but you’re tapped out, too hot and bothered to fight him anymore. 

“i’ve never been called god before,” he muses out loud, you narrow your eyes at him and he laughs again. “yes, i need to hear you say it.” because what’s the point if he has to do everything himself?

your throat constricts, face grows hot all over again, and you’re sure you’ll regret this later, but you manage to squeak out, “i want you.” it’s a confession that’s a few years too late, but he’ll take that over rejection any day. you forget that the point is to prevent him from winning his bet, but the idea of him touching you, of him making you beg, makes it impossible to do things the way you want to.

“now, doesn’t that feel good? to say it out loud, finally?” 

his arrogance knows no bounds, but you can’t continue fighting him, not when your body is at its limit. 

“stop teasing me, damn it.”

he really can’t help himself, but he supposes he ought to throw you a bone for coming this far. “sit on the desk,” he says, and releases his hold on your wrists.

when you don’t move, a hardened edge coats each word that comes out of his mouth afterwards. “it’s not a request.” you suppose you might as well listen, there’s no turning back at this point, and you want to get this over with — and prove to yourself that once and for all that you don’t actually like him, that this is a one time thing, and that you’ll be able to move on with your life afterwards.

you’re gravely mistaken, but you don’t know that yet.

he watches you scramble off of his lap and hoist yourself onto his desk, scattering the papers he was reviewing onto the floor. swiveling in his chair to face you, he tilts his head again, eyes darkening as you squeeze your thighs together. the way he unnerves you, the way he makes you want to act out, it’s so unsettling; you want to keep chasing that feeling until you’re certain it’s a fluke.

“do i need to keep spelling things out for you?”

licking your lips, you understand the silent command, tugging your skirt up higher and spreading your legs for him. for a moment, neither of you say anything, a charged tension hanging above both of your heads, making you light-headed as your breathing slows. it’s not like you want him to know, but it’s too hard to hide your arousal, especially with the dampness that stains the front of your panties. 

“take them off.” 

you don’t know what possesses you to listen, but you do, hook your thumbs underneath the lace band of your panties and pull them down slowly. because he’s so dedicated to observing you, he watches carefully, gaze sharp and hawkish, another flush crawling along your face, down your throat, spilling onto your chest — making it difficult to breathe again. he wishes he could capture this all on video, so he could revisit it later, because the sight of you, so vulnerable, practically trembling on his desk as your arousal seeps onto his desk, ruining one of the documents sitting underneath you. 

his laughter isn’t mocking so much as it is just thinly veiled amusement at your compliance; it takes on a life of its own and nestles itself inside of you, warming your chest, making your heart beat faster than necessary. 

law flicks his tongue against the inside of his cheek, his cock hard enough to make him want to fuck you right then and there; but, because he waited this long already, he’s willing to move at your pace. he runs a finger along your folds slowly, your irritation spiking at the way you melt at his touch, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip to stifle the insufferable noises that dare to come out of your mouth. he glances at you, disapproving of your choice to keep your true feelings hidden as he stands up suddenly. with his free hand he tugs your lip free, sucking his teeth at your defiance, hand gripping your face roughly.

“i don’t think you understand,” he says briskly, his finger running up and down your slit, a soft whimper prancing along the back of your mouth, tumbling into the air recklessly. “we’re playing by my rules, not yours.” you inhale sharply, eyes widening at his words, your whimpering steadily increasing in volume when he grazes your clit with the tip of his finger. “now,” his lips graze your jaw, breath warm and dizzying, “be a good girl and spread your legs wider.”

you do your best to comply, gasping when you feel him slip his finger inside of you — a welcomed intrusion that has you rolling your hips forward; his eyes never leave yours as he plunges his finger into you, your warm, tight walls squeezing, making him insert another finger in response. you let out a moan, one that you attempt to keep hidden, but his hand slides from your face down to your neck and he wraps his hand around it — a warning, of sorts, for you to behave. you’re not sure if it’s the taboo of fucking in his office, or if it’s just him, but your hips buck against his hand wildly, the fleshy part of his palm bumping against your clit with each thrust of his fingers.

the walls in the office are thick but not soundproof, and you don’t think about any of that when you repeatedly call out his name, his fingers scissoring inside of your throbbing cunt, your arousal dripping down to his wrist. he can tell you hate how much you’re enjoying this right now, which only makes him squeeze your throat — firm enough to hold you still, but not tight enough to bring you any lasting pain. 

“law, w-wait, wait,” you gasp and moan louder, a familiar buildup pooling in your lower abdomen, making your breathing erratic and your mind fuzzy.

“hm, i think i know what the problem is,” he says lightly, curling his fingers, wrist angling so he can reach a spot you’ve never had the pleasure of reaching by yourself. your subsequent cries are music to his ears; he smiles down at you wickedly, a third finger finding its way inside of your pussy. “you’re sensitive.” very sensitive at that. you don’t know what he means, but you don’t question it — after all, his fingers are commanding your body with ease and skill, and where you normally don’t push yourself past this point, possibly in fear of enjoying it too much, he doesn’t let up. law is every bit as relentless as you knew he’d be, finger-fucking you until your words come out garbled, your chest heaving as an orgasm nearly splits you apart.

“oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.” you can’t believe it, you should be pissed off but you’re not; you’re relieved. he works you through the orgasm and plucks his fingers out when you settle down. releasing his hold around your neck, he takes his time to lick his fingers as shame courses through you. and just when you think he’s done, he pulls you closer and finally kisses you. his tongue thrusts into your mouth, every bit as deadly as his fingers were; you don’t expect tenderness, but you’re surprised by the ferocity behind his kiss. teeth nipping at your lips playfully, you press your chest against his, hands reaching between you so you can unbuckle his belt and zip down his pants.

he didn’t expect you to take initiative, but he’s glad you’re on the same wavelength as him now. pre-cum slithers out of his slit, the head of his cock a reddish-pink, his length heavy in your soft hands. you’re not in the business of dragging things out, so you mumble against his lips, begging him to fuck you — so you can maybe carry on with your day without issue. because he’s such a benevolent person, he acquiesces almost immediately, lining the tip of his cock with your entrance, hands grabbing onto your hips as he snaps his hips forward and buries his cock inside of you. 

stuck in a trance, you lift your hips to meet his, euphoria wrapping around you — an exhilarating rush, magical and overpowering — no matter how many times you imagined this exact scenario, it’s nothing like the real thing. a thundering sound echoes inside of you when he pushes you down onto the desk and drapes your shapely legs over his shoulders. it has you calling out his name so loud that you’re sure the occupants in the neighboring building can probably hear you.

he pulls back before slamming his cock into you again, strokes long and daunting as his thrusts grow frenzied with each passing minute. you can hardly breathe, and he trails kisses down the length of your throat, tongue sampling your skin, enjoying the way you can’t seem to stop clenching around him. he moans against your neck, voice vibrating through you, and you sift your fingers through his hair, yanking when his cock hits a certain spot. law fucks you like you’ve pissed him off somehow, which confuses and arouses you; isn’t this what he wanted? to have you at his mercy, begging him for more?

but, what you fail to understand is that he’s mostly pissed at himself — pissed for taking so long, pissed for not being more frank and straight-forward with his intentions, pissed that you pushed him away when you both could’ve had this. 

and the soft pants that leave your mouth only makes him yearn for you even more; it’s silly, slightly obsessive, but he can’t help it. you’ll be the death of him, surely, but for now, he’ll enjoy this slow descent into madness. “you’re taking me so well,” he says smoothly, his mouth grazing the shell of your ear, “fuck… i don’t think i can let you go after this.” what he means by that is beyond him; it sort of spills out, a small nugget of truth he can’t afford to part with. he powers into you, over and over, your pussy puffy from the ruthless way he fucks you, and when you cum again he follows shortly after, panting, a light sheen of sweat coating his forehead as his cum thickly pours into you. 

you inhale deeply, hands clinging onto him, almost as if you’re afraid to let go; similarly he feels every bit as light-headed and drunk off of you. an impressive feat, one he can admit to freely. you’re not sure if he won because he made you cum more than once, or if you did for making him cum hard enough to make him reconsider things. still, you know just as well as he does, that there’s no coming back from this; you can’t simply act as if everything is fine, not when you’ve seen just how much you affect him. you didn’t know — or, rather, you chose not to know — and now that you’re cognizant of it, you’re hooked on him. 

not that he minds, it only makes everything easier; he’s sure that your coworkers are probably collecting on their bets now, after all, the entire office knows just how much you both liked one another. you sealed your fate when you walked into his office, and now that he’s had you, he’s definitely going to keep you.

[hongjoongtrasher]

ATEEZ FINAL PART : when they said something to hurt you.

I'm glad you've liked the previous part (part 1 and 2 here if you haven't read it yet), so here is a final to all this angsty reactions (if it is a reaction). Sorry if there are a lot of grammar errors, English not being my mother tongue -

Gosh this is going to be LONG please, bear with me ugh.

Hongjoong:

After this stormy episode of him totally lashing his stress out on you, he spent some time alone to think and reflect upon his trashy behaviour. He was genuinely aware of the massive efforts you were doing for his ass. Literally be patient and taking everything on you so he didn't have to feel more stressed. But today was different. He obviously went too far, saying those words horribly. Furthermore, he knew how hurt you've been because of him and now he didn't really know how to be forgiven. He always have been busy, always considering his work first and thought you were in an equal part of this, but seems he considered you taken for granted. The leader sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes not seeing any solutions at the moment. It's at this moment that Seonghwa entered the place. "Erm...Joong ?" he didn't answer, only Seonghwa could see how much his leader was in distress. "I heard from Y/N, mh I mean she told San who told me but anyway-" began the oldest before Hongjoong asked simply: "Have you come to scold me ?" A silence then. "No, I came to check on you." Seonghwa was always worried about his leader, since he knew the best how hardworking and diligent Hongjoong was, but today he felt like he was wrong. "You've acted like a real idiot this time" Hongjoong let a sarcastic laugh be heard as he slowly turned to face his friend. "Yeah, I know. Do you think she will forgive me ?" "Probably not easily." he answered honestly before continuing. "She told San she was tired of this, always being a shadow to you, erm...and nowadays she's been really stressed at work" A shadow ? Is this how you were seeing yourself as ? And on top of that, he was completely unaware of your work, how life has been going for you. This made the leader felt more guilty as he bite his lips. "So...What should I do ? Kneeling and beg her for forgiveness ?" Seonghwa sighed and put a comforting hand on the leader shoulder. "Sometimes actions are better than words".

And he left the studio, putting Hongjoong in a more difficult situation than he was already. What did he mean ? He thought about it again and again, watching without really watching his screen before it tilted inside his head. "THE SONG !!" he yelled at himself, feeling now very dumb. He had almost forgotten this track, a very secret one he composed for a long time. This song was special for him, it was a song which were written for you, and was conveying all of his feelings. He had to make you listen to this. A glance at his phone indicated it was already 3am in the morning, but sleep could wait. He spent the rest of the night finishing this track, or actually checking it before he saved a copy and directly sent it to you, praying you'd see it in the morning.

You'd spent the most horrible night of your life. Crying and turning under your blanket as you felt useless, no one. San proposed to come with Yunho, but you insisted to be alone, so they let you be, though they were worried. You only found sleep around two in the morning, tired for having crying most of the night. You woke up at six, your eyes hurting, puffy and red as fuck. Anyone could tell you've cried your eyeballs out. First you went to the bathroom to clean your face with cold water, your stuffy nose not helping in the process. After a while you returned to your bedroom and took your phone, not expecting to see a message from your boyfriend, or was he still yours ? At first you hesitated to open it, but finally did. No text, just an audio file. What was this ? Taking your headphone, you put them into your ear before clicking on the file, closing your eyes. At first, you were confused. You've never heard any melody like this one, so...calm, bubbly and soft. Soon Hongjoong's voice appeared with lyrics he surely had written and...you broke in tears again. This time not from sadness, but ...it was like a dream. You could heard his feelings, how much he loved you. You were ready to forgive him, but...it wasn't easy. Reconciliations were always difficult for both of you. Brushing this instantly aside, you rushed out from your apartment for going directly to Hongjoong's studio, in home wear, messy hair and "after crying faced" only to find him asleep on the couch. Panting, you rushed to jump on your boyfriend, sobbing again . This caused Hongjoong to wake up in surprise, confused. "Y-Y/N ?" why ? Why were you crying again ? After a while of you crying heavily on his shirt, he realised you probably came after hearing his song. His arms softly hooked around your tiny waist as one hand rubbed your back. "Shh...don't cry" he said, heartbroken to see you like this. "You dummy !" you yelled between two sobs. "I know." "I - I love you" "Me too, I'm sorry for being a huge dummy" he said with a gentle smile, holding your face to wipe your tears.

Seonghwa:

How rude he's been with you. It's only after hearing your answer that he realised you didn't deserve this. He wanted to chase after you, saying he was sorry, but too late, you slammed the door. Hongjoong came to their shared room before leaning at the door's frame, arching a brow at the oldest. "Can you explain to me what did just happen ?" he asked calmly before Seonghwa bite his lower tier. "I've been a jerk with her" he mumbled, not proud of himself this time. "Yeah, we saw this. You know, she only wanted to cheer you up. We all know you're having bad times because of vocal things, but you didn't have to lash out on her." His leader wasn't wrong, only himself was. "Hwa, go after her. It's not too late" said Hongjoong. "Now ?" Hongjoong sighed. "Yes now, not tomorrow or later" Seonghwa blinked, overthinking before his own body stood up and carried him outside the dorm, chasing after you desperately. He shouldn't have had been this way, he should have been thankful to have you by his side, always being cheerful and bright although sometimes you were hiding your own demons. But being a couple meant for the good and the worst right ? After running for a while, he stopped, panting his lungs on fire. He started to think. Where could you be now ? He remembered when you were sad or stressed, you used to go to Starbucks and get a drink full of sugar and whipped cream, that's how he thought you'd at the nearest one. Not minding people watching him when he opened the door, he eyed the room quickly before seeing you at the table across the entrance. He stepped inside and directly went to your seat as you were still sniffing with tears, your drink between your hands. Not expecting to see your boyfriend, you gasped when you finally realised he was standing here without saying anything. "Y/N.." You tried to gain composure, not wanting to appear fragile in front of him. "What are you doing here ? I thought you didn't want to see me" you croaked, looking away coldly. You heard him sitting before you and took your cold hands. "Y/N I'm sorry. I've been a jerk, you didn't deserve this- I know my work isn't an excuse for acting this way, I understand if you don't want to talk to me or-" "Shut up..." you mumbled, suddenly feeling embarrassed as more people were staring at you two. "I will do everything for you to forgive me, really." he said seriously, not quitting your face from his gaze. Some people were whispering and gossiping, and the more they did, the more you felt ridiculous. You stood up quickly and went straight to the exit with your double cold latte with whipped cream, your boyfriend following you closely. "Are you crazy Park Seonghwa ??? Did you forget you're an idole ? Huh ?? What are you going to do if they recognise you ?" You began to yell but Seonghwa stopped you by taking your free hand and said clearly. "Then I will just say you're my girlfriend and that I don't care, cause you deserve way more than this. Beside being an idole I'm a man, and I love you, there's nothing wrong with this, and if they don't like it, screw them !" you were shocked by his fearless answer, and you felt your heart melt again. You were definitely madly in love with him.

Yeosang:

He was aware of his jerk attitude, and as much as he felt guilty, he didn't know how to ask for your forgiveness. The members already scolded him for what he had said earlier but he knew better than anyone that you weren't ready to talk with. You were the type to be angry for a while, not letting space for any peaceful conversation until you'd calm down. He overthought for a while, thinking you'd probably dump him now and he wouldn't see you ever again, or you'd be so mad at him you'd just beat his ass. Tormented, Yunho looked at his friend before saying, not really sure to mingle in his friend's love problems: "Yeosang, I'm not sure about her being mad, I think she's ...sad ?" he said cautiously, nervous about Yeosang's answer. Sad ? He was really dumb. Of course you'd not be mad, or at least not as much as sad. After all he saw you crying when you left, and his motto was all ruined at this moment. "You're right...I should go see her." he said flatly, feeling really bad. "Huh, yeah I don't even understand why you're still here to be honest" said Yunho with a smile. Thanks to him, Yeosang found the courage to go to your apartment, with your favorite pastry from the bakery you both liked to go, and...flowers. Yeosang wasn't the type to make such lovey dovey stuffs, but this time it was important. Inhaling deeply in front of your door, he knocked once, shyly, not sure if you'd hear it. Then he knocked more frankly before hearing footsteps from behind the door and before he knew it, you were standing in front of him as much surprised as he was. "...What are you doing here ?" you asked, rather coldly. He cleared his throat before handling you shyly the flowers. "I...I came to apologise. I've been a real jerk to you earlier...I even promised myself I'd never make you cry, but I failed miserably" he said in a go, probably too embarrassed to say it confidently. There is a silence, as you fix your eyes on your shy boyfriend. Suddenly you wanted to laugh. How laughable it was to see Yeosang acts like he never did before. You can't bear it anymore and just burst out of laugh, laughing so much that you have to hold your hurting belly. Visibly confused, Yeosang frowned a bit. Why were you laughing ? "Oh my god...You're really something else" you said, calming down slowly before taking the flowers. He suddenly lifted his head in hope. "Does it mean you're forgiving me ?" You faked you're still thinking about it, humming in an exaggerate way. "Well, only if you let me eat this" you nudged your chin to the box he was carrying and which you spotted immediately before he gave you the flower. He smiled and shook his head. "Alright, it's all for you then"

San:

He had definitely crossed a line he shouldn't had. After you slammed the door at his nose, he tried to make you open it for a while, but you never opened it again. So he left, defeated. It was supposed to be a romantic moment for both of you since a while, and yet he ruined everything with his mouth. Sometimes he wished he just could rewind and change every thing. Even if he didn't like the dress, he could have accepted it since you were happy, but his selfishness and jealousy got over it and now he was alone, in his car without you. He took his phone, sending you texts. "Babe, I'm sorry, please, you know I didn't really mean it right ?" or "Please answer me, I'm really sorry." etc, but you didn't even open them since they were still on sent. Instead of going back to his dorm, he tried to call you this time. On the fifth time, he let a voice mail, taking a long breath before the beep. "Y/N, I'm really sorry, I didn't want to ruin our date like this, or just ruin it at all. The truth is...you were so pretty in this dress, so sexy that I don't want other men to see you in this, I wanted to be the only one to see you with. You're not a whore, you're not any of this. I'm selfish I know, but please, it's been so long since we went on a date...If you still want to see me...I'll be waiting in front of your building." And he locked his phone, leaning his head on the top of the steering wheel. He didn't know how long he waiting again but he suddenly heard the door of the passenger side opening, making him look at the person who opened it. It was you. With the same dress. He felt his heart stopped as you sat next to him, putting your seatbelt without a word. "Y/N ?" You looked straightforward you, and said simply. "Let's go, I guess the restaurant is still open" you muffled. He couldn't help but smiled happily as he turned the engine on, taking your hand in his before driving and said. "Thank you Y/N, thank you" and kissed the back of your delicate hand.

Yunho:

Since the incident at the practice room, Yunho didn't hear from you for a while. Hongjoong particularly scolded him about how rude he's been on you while you just wanted to wish them good luck for their performance. He knew it right, but at the moment he couldn't have helped but get angry at you. He knew as well it wasn't so like him to get carried away for nothing, so that's why he didn't really know what to do to make amend for you. He made his mind he would apologise right after their stage for Kingdom even if they boys thought it would be better to do it before. He knew you'd definitely watch them, root for them so he put all of his mind and body in this performance, hoping it would bring him luck. And it did since they snitched 1st place although they started low in the classement. When the MC asked Yunho how he felt about their win, the giant boy just shyly smiled before saying with a trembling voice. "I...It meant a lot for us, and to be able to be first is huge honour. We always want to show our best to our fans, Atiny. But today I...wanted to surpass myself for a certain person." Others groups were chatting among themselves, surprised by Yunho's declaration. Changmin, though he was as surprised as the others still asked professionally. "Oh, who would it be ?" Yunho smiled brightly and said confidently. "Y/N, my girlfriend." Some screams and gasps from shock could be heard in the giant room after Yunho pursued: "She's always been by my side and supports me with the best way she can, but lately...I've not been a good boyfriend to her, that's why I wanted to win, for her, and saying that I love her."

Right after the diffusion of this week episode which you've been watching with your friends, you sobbed like a little girl. How proud you were for your boyfriend, and the only thing you wanted now was to take him in your arms, feeling his arms around you. With shaking hands you took your phone to try to call Yunho, but he wasn't answering your call. That's at this very moment you heard the bell of your door and went for it, not expecting to see your boyfriend at your door. "H-hi" he said shyly. You dropped your phone and jumped directly in his arms, crying again. "You're an idiot Jung Yunho...But I love you". He nuzzled the top of your head as he hugged you back tightly. "I love you too, little one."

Wooyoung:

wede Wooyoung always said honestly what he was thinking, and everyone's used to it, so he thought his remarks about your skill about cooking would pass easily, but he was wrong. At first he didn't understand your reaction, why you left like this as he was only joking, or he thought so. Seonghwa nagged at him after you left, saying how rude he's been and at least he could shut his mouth. He felt really guilty. He was the one who made you loose confidence about you, when he knew you're always trying your best. And this time, he really screwed things up. Worst than this, when he ate the cake you'd made, he realised it was really good, and his unfounded claims were really mean. Gathering his courage, he showed up at your workplace, waiting for you at the exit. At first, you didn't want to see him, you haven't digested yet what he'd said to you. But with an expressionless face, you finally appeared in front of him. "Y/N- listen, I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have said those horrible jokes. No, I mean, I didn't mean what I said, the cake was really good." he tried to say quickly, afraid you'd just brush him away. After listening to his words, you just sighed and said "You're really a jerk sometimes you know that ? Maybe I'm not good at some things, but it doesn't give you the right to bash me out like this in front of everyone. Do you understand Wooyoung ?" he looked down at his feet and nodded, muttering "I'm sorry". "Fine, if you're really sorry, you better cook something too" you smirked, a sign from you that you're half forgiving him. "What ? Wait-" he looked at you astonished. "I don't know what to cook" "Huh, well not my problem" you sticked your tongue out to him and caught his arm in yours.

Mingi:

Mingi's been aware that his words probably upset you. But he needed to find himself again, to get right on tracks by himself even if he was thankful towards you, taking care of him for so long and everything. But he felt like it was his duty to make his comeback to the team his, from A to Z. He hoped you would understand, but after you left him alone, he felt guilty to suddenly reject you. The first day of his comeback into the team, Mingi felt really nervous. He wished he could call you and talk to you as he used to, but since that day he didn't dare to contact you. Instead he sent you a long message, saying how much he missed you and felt really nervous. That he was sorry for what he's said and how much you counted for him. He knew deep inside his mind that you had understood his reasons to act this way, and he was right. After reading his text, you couldn't help but fall in love all over again for Mingi. He was so sweet and pure that you couldn't hold grudges against him. You texted back saying "Everything's gonna be alright. Fighting ! I love you" which reassured the rapper.

Jongho:

Although Jongho was the youngest from the team, he was really mature and hated childish behaviour when it comes for his relationship. The fact you got jealous and as a result, acted this way got him angry. For him, the fact he was dating you was a proof of his choice, and love. Things weren't bad with his ex, so he didn't see why he would cut the rope from her, and he expected you to understand his point of view. After calming down on his own, he also realised his reaction must not have been mature as well. He took more time to think about how he was going to reconcile with you, but things shouldn't stay this way. He expected you to be at your place, and directly knocked at the door, feeling nervous. "Y/N ?" he called out for you. It took a moment before you opened the door, clearly still furious about what happened earlier. "What ? Aren't you with Mina yet ?" you spatted out, maybe too agressive than you wished. Jongho took on himself not to react to this again, instead sighing softly. "Baby, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have reacted this way." he began, trying to be the most sincere he was. "You're the only one for me, you know it right ? But you see, Mina is indeed my ex, but it doesn't mean I'm on bad terms with her, and it also means that nothing will happen with her anymore. Because I love you so much and no one else"

[itsnothesameasitwas]

hiii! this month I’ve read a lot of great fics, so I decided is time to start my monthly fic rec… that means I’ll be doing a short fic rec and recap every month with my favorite fics of the month

note: the fics I’ll be mentioning weren't necessarily posted recently

!!! - please be careful and read all the tags and/or warnings before start reading and left kudos and nice messages to the authors <33

❀ Divinely Blessed by thinlines @thinlinez  | 17k | Explicit | ABO | fic post

“I heard you, Ni. But what do you mean?”

“What do you mean what I mean?”

Harry rolled his eyes as he shoved his alpha friend down onto a seat. “Did you mean you lick someone out or…?”

“Nah, mate! It was me! I got licked out!” Harry could only stare at Niall in horror.

Alpha Harry prides himself on having the bravest and most caring omega who might or might not just fulfill his sudden curiosity.

note: for some reason i don’t know i fell in love with the ABO and found this fic someway and WOW! it’s really fluffy and sweet and while i was reading all i could think about was “god! i really want someone who love me like Harry loves Lou and viceversa” and also has a great smut scene, funny and well writen (cliff ily babe)

❀ Promise me you won’t run away by thinlines | 23k | Explicit | ABO | Español

“Does kissing me stop you from having bad thoughts?” Harry asked, voice muffled into the collar of Louis’ dress shirt. Louis chuckled at this. He trailed a hand down Harry’s back, feeling the muscles tensing along with his touch.

“I guess you can say that. You’re a good distraction.”

“Then I will be the best distraction.” Harry answered, pulling back and watched Louis’ lips unashamedly.

“Come distract me, then.”

Or the Prince/ Knight AU in which Harry left Louis, but the omega never once gave up on them.

note: this fic is beautiful and really REALLY well written, i need to say i cried and im the most cold person in the world but this caught me and I LOVED IT! but also when i finished it i got mad because in the end notes was the spanish translation and i read it in english lmao; anyway i love it!!!... summing this up, the fic made me thought about that LOVE ALWAYS WIN <33

❀ Twist the knife by jishler @jishlerfics | 6k | Explicit | Angst / Smut | fic post

Infuriating, but Louis missed it. Louis missed him. His thighs and his chest and breath and warmth and toothbrush next to Louis’. He missed sex with Harry but he missed his presence more: Louis would settle for watching Harry get himself off if it meant he got to see him; hear the voice that was like a soothing balm over all his wounds.

Two weeks after their breakup, Harry wants his toys back.

note: i definetely don’t read smut in purpose and the reason i’ve read this was because i love the moodboard BUT i need to thank the person who put it on my dash because i liked it so much!! was fun to read and the smut is pretty well written :))

❀  Hold you now by solvetheminourdreams @solvetheminourdreams | 131k | Angst with happy ending | fic post | playlist

The string within Harry's own sweatpants is now dangling outside of his pocket, stretched so far out that the seams of his pants have tightened. His eyes remain hyper focused on Louis, how oblivious he is—scrolling through his phone without a care in the world, while Harry feels his tilt on its axis.

Three years ago, Harry Styles said goodbye to communications consultancy firm McQuiston Worldwide, leaving a life of travel and agency PR behind. When he accompanies his best friend to a family wedding across the Atlantic, he'll be forced to reopen old wounds and face his past—one that no one wants to hash out, but may just have to.

note: at the end of the first chapter i was emotional, is the kind of fic that you feel every single emotion, the one you literally feel are part of it... it’s perfectly well written and please give it a chance and  check all the stef’s works because she’s a super talented writer... if i say something else i’ll probably do spoilers so, shut up ana.

❀ The money mark by brightgolden @brightgolden | 52k | Explicit | ABO | fic post

Harry's heart beats faster in his chest as the name sinks in. The Tomlinson name is awfully familiar, and he isn’t sure how many rich Tomlinsons are out here in London, but he knew one. Seven years ago.

Like all fine things in the world, Louis Tomlinson ages exceptionally well.

OR

Where Louis is Harry’s first sugar daddy who dumped him over text and their paths cross, seven years later.

note: THIS IS MY FAVORITE FIC OF THE YEAR. sorry, but this fic is super well written, is omega harry + alpha louis and find smth like this is almost impossible! but i loved the fact that harry could be an omega and a sugar baby but he’s independant and strong and wow! it’s amazing; everyone should read it because it’s really good!! (ps. louis is the alpha of my dreams, he’s a complete gentlemen)

❀ Sweet like candy by neodiamond @neondiamond | 4k | General Audiences | ABO | fic post

Louis is an Alpha with an odd obsession for gummy bears. Harry is an Omega who makes friends a little too easily. They meet on the bus.

note: this is the cutest fluffy fic I have ever read! strangers to friends to lovers <333

❀ Literally making love by Brooklyn_babylon @twopoppies | 30k | Explicit | Robot/Human Relationship | fic post

Holding up one of the android's eyes to the workshop’s windows, he smiled as the light picked up the gold flecks in the pale green of his irises. Louis had always paid attention to even the tiniest details.

--

All Louis intended to do was rescue someone in need from loneliness. He had no idea it would be himself.

note: science + me = signal error BUT this fic. OMG. how to say this is one of the fics would be in my recap at the end of the year; i have read another fic by Gina and was really good but this is probably my favorite between both of them... all i know and want now is to create my perfect partner lmao. 

❀ I’m gonna keep this love, if you let me by pixies @tomlinbuns | 26k | Explicit | ABO | fic post

Louis makes Harry pretend to be his boyfriend one night out. The rest is history.

note: this one is simple to discribe... the best of the best. one of my favorites abo fics, funny, teasing and very romantic. i enjoyed so much read how these two guys fell in love with each other. god bless this fic <33

❀ Beautiful stranger by lovelarry10 @chloehl10 | 66k | Explicit | ABO / Mpreg | fic post

“Did you want to- oh. Uh, sorry, I-” Harry stuttered, licking his lips as he looked over Louis’ bare torso, not focusing on the ocean ahead of him. “You’re very distracting, Lou.”

“Trying to tell me you haven’t seen a topless Omega before?” Louis asked, walking back to his rucksack and grabbing a bottle of suncream out of it before returning to stand by Harry.

“Not one as stunning as you,” he thought he heard Harry mutter as he started to rub the cream into his shoulders.

*****

When Alpha Harry Styles attends the Gucci Cruise 2020 show, he knows what to expect: clothes, clutch bags, and a few too many pretentious people. What he doesn’t expect, however, is to run into an Omega who is more beautiful than anything on the runway.

note: this fic is from 2019 but who cares, i loved it so much and i want to thank/blame @justalarryblog​ because she unintentionally recommended it to me in her abo fic rec post and now i want someone like this harry in my life... is it too much to ask? because is one of the most beautiful abo fics i’ve read this month and wow. if you haven’t read it yet, what are you waiting for??

❀ Waiting on you by beckywritesthings @beckydoesthings  | 21k | Mature | Mpreg | fic post

“Do you want to touch?” Harry asks, taking one of his hands off to tangle with Louis’. His open invitation finally drags Louis’ attention away from his baby and up to his face, blue eyes wobbly with emotions. It’s clear that he’s too taken to really form words, so Harry takes the initiative to press their laced hands against his shirt fabric, warmth from the skin radiating through.

Louis pushes his shirt up to his chest, taking Harry’s hand and pressing it to hold the fabric in place. His hands return to warm skin, palms even more scalding now that there’s nothing in between them. And then, as if that wasn’t enough for Harry’s heart to handle, Louis leans in, pressing his lips right above his belly button.

“Hi, baby,” he says, lips moving across his skin softly. “I’m your… I’m Louis.”

Or Harry is pregnant with a stranger’s baby and Louis doesn’t know. It’s a minor detail that Harry’s both living with Louis and in love with him. No big deal.

note: this fic is really new, someone reblogged the fic post and when i saw it first i was like ‘huh?’ and then suddendly (in less than a minute) decided it was the next thing i’ll be reading and now i’m completely in love with it. Lou i need to say you’re the kind of guy everyone wants in their life <3 

-----------

❀ all the love, ana. xx

[1eos]

Yeah, soy milk and too much soy in general is bad for sensitive stomach gang, rice and oat tastes like knifes to me. I was almost at the point of buying a food processor to make my own plant milk but i realized i can buy lactose-free milk, and now it's the only one I can have but in small quantities. But surprisingly soy cooking cream or yoghurt doesn't hurt me? I think all of that milk business is a hoax, big dairy is lying to us

there has to be some kind of conspiracy going on when it comes to milk bc apparently its (kind of) common knowledge that too much soy is bad for a lot of people but one of the first big milk alternatives was soy milk????? do you WANT us to die? and the push was always for plant based alternatives but all that shit either tastes AWFUL or hurts like hell. i had to dump so much sugar in the oat milk i got to even tolerate the taste 😭😭😭😭😭😭i hateeeeee this like i just need an extra stomach like a cow

[mrs-gucci]

Reader and Henry making blue/red/white popsicles for July 4, and Charlie coming back from work or an errand and helping them?

Red White & Blue [blurb] {Charlie Barber x Reader} 🎇

author's notes: hello, hello! oh gosh, this is a super cute idea!! thanks for submitting :)

warnings: fluff. popsicle-making. it gets a lil steamy at the end but nothing smutty.

no tw's, just fluffy goodness :)

"Dad’s gonna be so surprised!” Henry exclaims as he rushes through the door with one of the grocery bags.

You smile, putting the bags onto the counter and helping Henry put his on the counter before beginning to unpack everything. “I’m sure he will be. Does your dad like popsicles? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him eat one before.”

The young boy shrugs. “He likes ice cream, and they’re almost the same thing, so he probably likes them.”

“He does have quite the sweet tooth.” You laugh, shaking your head slightly.

Once all the other groceries have been put away, only the supplies needed for popsicle-making are left out on the counter. He’s looking over the printed-out recipe with slightly furrowed brows, mouth moving as he tries to sound out some of the words.

“Alrighty, let’s make the sugar-water first.” You say. “Can you measure out the sugar for me, please? Just put it right in the pot when you’re done.”

Henry nods eagerly, pulling the measuring cups and container of sugar over closer to him. He pauses and you catch him out of the corner of your eye, turning around.

“Do you need my help, bud?”

He nods. “Yes please. Which cups do I use?”

You step up and look over his head at the recipe, seeing that it calls for 1 1/4 cups of sugar. 

“So, you need 1 cup, and then you need 1/4 of a cup.”

The boy quickly grabs the cup and scoops sugar into it, pouring it into the pot before looking for the 1/4 cup. He finds it and scoops more sugar, pouring it right into the pot like he did before.

“Done! Can I do the water now, too?”

“Sure, but you have to be super careful not to spill all over the floor. Let’s bring the pot over next to the sink.” You grab the pot handle and move it over to sit next to the sink while Henry moves his little step-stool over. He measures out the water, with your supervision, and once he’s done, you put it on the stove. 

“Can we make the blue layer first?” Henry asks eagerly, pulling out the blue food coloring and raspberry flavor. “Blue’s my favorite.”

You stir the sugar-water mixture, nodding. “We can, indeed. What does the recipe call for?”

While you watch the sugar water, Henry prepares the blue layer ingredients. You’re not quite sure if he measured everything correctly, but hopefully it’ll be alright.

Charlie arrives home only a few minutes later, tired from a day of work at Exit Ghost. He opens the door, ready to lay down on the couch with a glass of wine, but then he pauses. 

From the little sliver of the kitchen visible through the cracked mudroom door, he sees you and Henry making some sort of prepared good together. He sees the big smile on Henry’s face as he whisks the mixture, and he sees you, wearing a smile of your own. 

He just stands there for a minute, finding that a smile begins to tug at his lips the more he watches. Charlie knows that you’re always a bit apprehensive of having Henry by yourself, despite having him by yourself about a thousand times before, but he’s never gotten to see you in-action like this before.

You suddenly look up towards the door with a small smirk.

“Are you gonna come out of there, stalker, or are you just gonna keep lurking in the shadows?”

Charlie laughs and blushes, pushing the door open while slipping his shoes off. “Sorry.”

He smiles at the two of you, dumping his bag just outside the doorway as he makes his way to you. His lips connect with yours in a quick kiss before he gives Henry a kiss on the forehead.

“What are you two making?”

You look down at Henry, nodding towards his dad, indicating that you want him to tell. He looks up at Charlie, tilting the bowl so he can see the bright blue mixture inside.

“We’re making popsicles! Red white and blue ones for this weekend.”

His eyebrows raise, but he nods. “Nice. Looks very, uh...blue.”

The young boy laughs, as do you.

“Yes, Henry’s mixing all the colors by himself while I tend to the pot on the stove.” You say, leaning against him.

Your timer goes off a few seconds later and you rush over to turn the burner off, giving the sugar-water mixture one final stir before putting it on a cooling pad.

“Well, is there anything I can help with?” Charlie asks his son, giving his hair a quick playful ruffle before looking over at you. “Anything at all?”

“You can cut up some cherries for the red layer, if you’d like.”

He nods, giving you a kiss on the cheek. “Great. I will get started on that.”

After what feels like an eternity, the popsicles are poured into the molds and put in the freezer. You take a sigh of relief when Henry closes the freezer door and declares that he wants to go up and play with his Legos.

Your handsome boyfriend makes his way over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and planting a kiss on the top of your head.

“Thank you for taking him today.” He says, resting his chin on top of your head. “It means a lot, and clearly he had fun.”

You laugh softly. “I sure hope so. I had fun too.”

Charlie smiles, dipping his head down so that he can kiss your temple. “How can I ever make it up to you?”

His lips trail down to your cheek, then across to your lips. He steps around so that now he’s pressing you up against the counter, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. You hum against his lips, tugging his hair gently.

“Mmmmm, I’m sure we can think of something.”

He smirks, hands trailing down to give your ass a squeeze before he pulls away, holding your hips. His forehead rests against yours.

“I’m pretty sure I already know the answer, but would you like a glass of wine?”

You laugh, nodding eagerly.

“God, yes please.”

[purrincess-chat]

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH15

This section has a lot of moving parts, and a few surprises in store for our resident mean girls ;)

Previous     First      Next     AO3

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Chapter 15: Irresistible

Marinette stared across the street with a pensive frown, arms crossed, fingers tapping. She couldn’t bring herself to do it last night, partially because she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. Even now, she still didn’t believe it was real, but as Gabrielle served coffee and sweets to patrons in broad daylight, there was no mistaking it.

Gabrielle had a job.

None of it made sense. Why was someone like her working at a café? Was it punishment? Did her parents want her to get the sense of what the “commoners” had to put up with to keep her humble? HA! As if. Maybe it was a publicity stunt. Rich heiress works relatable day job. Rich people were always trying to seem relatable.

Marinette pursed her lips, equally as confused as she was when her old classmates believed every word out of Lila’s mouth. Something else was going on. Gabrielle wore a polite smile for customers, but it didn’t touch her eyes. She looked… tired. It was the same look on every businessman’s face when they came into the bakery before work—exhaustion from the persistent grind of a monotonous routine. Whatever the reason was, Gabrielle had been there a while.

Mustering up her courage, Marinette took a deep breath and cautiously approached the café. She slipped through the front door, peering around at the other patrons, though Gabrielle was nowhere in sight. Were her eyes playing tricks on her? No, she’d definitely seen her. She was probably in the back. Should Marinette wait? What was she even going to say?

“Can I help you?” a stern-looking man behind the counter asked.

Marinette jumped. “Uh, I was just looking for someone…”

“If you’re not ordering, then get out.” He looked every bit as capable of throwing her out if necessary. Marinette understood why Gabrielle looked so exhausted with a manager this mean.

“I-I’ll have a coffee, please. Two creams, one sugar.” She dug out the correct amount of change and dumped it into his hand.

The man grunted in response before turning over his shoulder. “One up!”

Marinette flicked her gaze to the back door, but it remained shut. The manager sighed, stalking to the back with his hands on his hips.

“I’m just gonna go sit…” Marinette gestured to a table with her thumb.

A few moments later the door opened, and a tall girl slinked over to the coffee machine. Her hair was tucked inside of her cap, pulled low over her face. Marinette craned her neck to watch, but Gabrielle turned her back purposefully to hide her face. When the drink was finished, she placed it on the front counter and attempted to retreat to the back, but the manager cleared his throat, pointing to the table where Marinette sat. She let out a sigh before retrieving the drink from the counter and walking it over herself.

“One coffee.” She set it on the table with more force than necessary and turned over her shoulder quickly. “Enjoy.”

“Wait.” Marinette held out a hand. “Can I get an extra packet of sugar?”

Gabrielle’s shoulders stiffened, hands clenching into fists. She pointed to the supply stand across the room before retreating to the back, mumbling to her manager that she was going to take her break.

It seemed as though she wouldn’t be resurfacing any time soon, so Marinette pulled out her sketchbook and headphones, occasionally sipping her drink. She wasn’t going to let Gabrielle get away without explaining herself, especially after what happened last week. There was more to her than met the eye, and Marinette was going to get to the bottom of it. Gabrielle knew she wasn’t fooling anyone, so it was only a matter of time before she fessed up.

After a while, a green apron appeared at her table, and a perfectly manicured hand refilled her cup from the kettle.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed.

Murderous green eyes glared through Marinette, but she sipped her coffee calmly.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Gabrielle’s grip tightened on the handle, and Marinette had no doubt that it was taking all of her willpower to remain professional, lest she incur the wrath of her surly manager.

“Fine. You caught me. I… work here.” She cringed at the word as if it were painful to say.  “Congrats, you want a picture so you can show everyone at school?”

“No.” Marinette shook her head. “I want to know why.”

“None of your business.” Gabrielle snapped. Marinette shrugged, taking a sip of her drink while Gabrielle tapped her foot contemplatively. “Fine, but not out here.”

Marinette yelped when Gabrielle pulled her up, scrambling to grab her things as she was dragged to the back. Kicking open the door to the small employee bathroom, Gabrielle shoved her inside and pulled the door shut behind them. She covered her face, taking a few deep breaths before lowering her hands to glare at Marinette.

“I work here because my family is bankrupt.” She choked on the word, covering her mouth. “My dad’s an idiot, and now his businesses are failing, investors are pulling out. Three generations of wealth is drying up. They told the manager I was 16, so I can help pay for school.”

Marinette’s eyebrows raised in shock, and she gaped in silence as Gabrielle took deep breaths. “How long have you been here?”

“Since the summer.” Gabrielle leaned against the sink. “And I’m probably going to die here one day. Once news gets out, we’re going to be the laughingstock of the town. No one in their right mind will hire me to do anything worthwhile. I’m gonna be stuck serving coffee to poor people forever.”

Marinette almost pointed out that Gabrielle was one of those “poor people” now, but it didn’t seem like the time. Besides, she stood between Marinette and the exit, so goading her wasn’t in Marinette’s best interest if she hoped to get out of there alive.

Even still, seeing how broken and miserable Gabrielle was… Marinette couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. Just because she picked on everyone at school didn’t mean Marinette wished the worst for her. She couldn’t imagine having everything ripped away from her and being forced to work a job she hated. For the first time since moving to her new school, Marinette was the most fortunate one in the room.

Reaching out a reluctant hand, Marinette attempted to touch her shoulder, but Gabrielle shook her off. “I don’t need your pity!” she growled. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. You’re just gonna go run and tell your little do-gooder squad and spread it around school.”

“I won’t,” Marinette promised, and when Gabrielle glared again, she added, “Not if you don’t want me to.”

“Why? I more than deserve it after how I’ve treated you and your stupid little friends,” she said.

“It’s not my secret to tell.” Marinette shrugged.

“Wow, you really are stupid.” Gabrielle rolled her eyes, the hints of a smile tugging the corners of her mouth. “Thanks, I guess. I really don’t deserve that from you.”

“No, you don’t.”

Gabrielle pursed her lips before reaching out to pat Marinette’s shoulder awkwardly. She averted her gaze and turned to the door, though her hand hesitated on the handle.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I come from a very messed up world, and up until a few months ago, I thought that it would always be my world. It’s been hard.” She paused for a moment, then continued, “Ya know, sometimes when I see people like you, I wish it were me. I wish I knew how to be nice.” She opened the door and stalked out, leaving Marinette alone in stunned silence.

“Whoa,” Marinette said. “I thought she was being punished by her parents, but bankrupt.”

“That explains why she backed down so easily whenever you challenged her,” Tikki piped up from her bag.

“I guess it is true when they say that you don’t really know someone.” Marinette winced.

“Maybe you can become her friend and teach her how to be nice. That way she can make new friends in the future,” Tikki suggested, but Marinette let out a mocking laugh.

“Oh no, I got my answer, so I’m going to forget this ever happened. I think it’s what Gabrielle wants. Besides, it’s not my job to go around fixing every broken person I come across. Look how well that went with Lila,” Marinette said pointedly.

“I think you’re wrong about what Gabrielle wants, and while it might not be your job, I think you can’t help yourself,” Tikki said.

“Of course I can. Watch.” Marinette gently pushed her back down with one finger before strutting out of the bathroom and all the way out the front door, though her bravado was short-lived when another familiar set of green eyes flashed her a taunting grin.

Lila.

Marinette froze in her tracks, heart taking off into a sprint. A range of emotions bubbled in her core—anger, fear, sorrow, regret. It had been over a month since Marinette left, and despite her best efforts to move on from her old life, Lila could dig up all of her past hurt with one sinister smile.  

She sat at an outside table, patiently sipping her drink. Her posture was relaxed, purposeful, and a bit too smug for Marinette’s liking. This was no coincidence. Lila had been waiting.

“Marinette, it’s good to see you,” she said with a sugary sweet lilt.

“That’s the worst lie you’ve ever told.” Marinette’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?”

“Enjoying some coffee.” She lifted her cup as proof. “Now, did I stop here because I saw you walk in? Well, that’s debatable.”

“What do you want?”

“Oh, nothing,” Lila said innocently. “I was just taking a break from a long day with my best friends. They all just love me, especially Alya.”

“Good for you,” Marinette said. She brushed past her, but Lila wasn’t finished.

“Even Adrien has been paying attention to me lately. He’s like a strand of pasta, you know? He thinks he’s so tough when in reality he breaks so easily,” she cooed. “If you put a little heat on him, he’ll bend to your will in minutes.”

Marinette stopped in her tracks, hands clenching into fists. “Adrien knows you’re a liar,” she said. “If you push him, he’ll tell everyone the truth.”

“Maybe, but no one else will believe him if he tries to out me. I think he realizes that. It won’t be long before he gives up and conforms. He really can’t stand to lose all of his friends like you did.” She leaned against her fist with a smirk. “It won’t be long before I take him from you too, Marinette.”

Marinette spun around, angry tears welling in her eyes and a sharp retort on her lips, but Gabrielle appeared to refill Lila’s cup. She surveyed Marinette’s tortured expression before trailing the coffee stream across the table into Lila’s lap.

“Hey, watch it!” Lila shrieked, jumping up.

“Oops!” Gabrielle pressed a hand to her lips as Lila wiped at her romper. “Sorry I’m a little clumsy. I’m still training.”

“Ugh, you’re lucky this time, Marinette, but don’t think that this is over!” Lila growled. She grabbed her bag and stalked off.

Marinette and Gabrielle stood together in silence before one of them inevitably cracked, and they both threw their heads back with laughter.

“Thank you,” Marinette said. “That was… nice of you.”

Gabrielle rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Don’t get any ideas. That was for your discretion,” she said.

She turned her head, but not in time to hide her flushed cheeks. Marinette hated to admit it, but Tikki was right. Sometimes she couldn’t help herself.

♪♫♪ Turn Off the Lights ♪♫♪

“Have you thought about what I asked last time?” Adrien asked.

Chloe chewed her sushi slowly, purposefully leaving him in anticipation. He really hated how sadistic she was, especially when it wasted his time. Consorting with Chloe made his skin crawl, but after Marinette called to tell him about her encounter that afternoon, he couldn’t wait any longer. If he knew anything about Chloe, it was that she’d do anything for expensive sushi.

“You really have fallen down quite the rabbit hole, Adrikins,” she said, sounding impressed. “First you threaten to blackmail me if I don’t help you, now you’re bribing me. I always knew I’d rub off on you eventually.”

“Look, this isn’t about petty revenge or whatever you normally do,” he said. “Lila is dangerous, and she needs to be stopped.”

“I seem to recall a time when I asked for your help, and you didn’t come through for me.” Chloe examined another piece of sushi thoughtfully. “If it were anyone else in the world, I’d have laughed in their face when they asked for help. You’re lucky we’ve been friends since we were in diapers, Adrikins.”

“I know I messed up. I’m sorry.” He lowered his gaze. “I learned my lesson.”

“Good. With your silly little conscience out of the way, we can actually get some real work done,” Chloe said. “I do have a few ideas for you, but…”

“But what?”

Chloe leaned against her fist with a wicked grin. “I need to test your loyalty. If you’re going to lie down with the dogs, you can’t be afraid to get dirty, so I need to know you’re capable of breaking the rules.”

A chill prickled his spine, and Adrien shifted in his seat. “What kind of rules?”

“See? This is why I have trust issues, Adrikins.”

He sighed, squaring his shoulders and facing her head-on. “Okay, fine. I’m in.”

“Excellent.” Chloe clapped for her butler, then pulled Adrien to his feet. “Your father thinks you’re helping me with my science homework tonight, but you and I both know Sabrina has already done it. I threatened my way into a party uptown, and you’re coming with me.”

“But-”

“Ah, ah!” Chloe held up a finger. “Prove to me you have what it takes. Break the rules.”

Adrien’s stomach churned as Chloe dragged him down to her waiting limo. When he’d come to her for help, he anticipated having to push his conscience aside to get what he wanted. To make a deal with the devil, he had to be willing to sell his soul, and sneaking out to a party across town was page one of their contract. It would all be worth it in the end. For Marinette’s happiness, he’d sell his soul a thousand times. He was already clutching the pen—Chloe just needed to show him where to sign.

♪♫♪ Pretty Places ♪♫♪

“Marinette! There’s someone here to see you!” Her mother called up the stairs that evening.

Marinette’s eyebrows furrowed. Who would visit at this hour? She wasn’t expecting anyone. Adrien had piano practice. Macy had vocal lessons. Eliott and Martin were having some “guy time” whatever that meant. All of her friends were previously engaged, so who was waiting for her downstairs?

She set aside her knitting and slowly made her way to the living room. Whoever she expected to find didn’t compare at all to the tall red-head standing in the doorway.

“Gabrielle?” Her jaw dropped. “What are-”

“Is your room up here?” She pointed, quirking a perfectly-plucked brow. When Marinette nodded, Gabrielle took her wrist and dragged her back up the stairs.

“What-” Marinette gaped as Gabrielle shut the trap door and dusted her hands. “What is happening?”

“Get dressed.” Gabrielle ordered, but when Marinette remained frozen, she rolled her eyes and added, “We’re going to a party. Get dressed.”

“We’re what?” Marinette asked as Gabrielle threw her closet open and began digging through the rack.

“The son of one of my dad’s golfing buddies is throwing a party at their mansion tonight, and we’re going,” Gabrielle said. She sifted through hangers until she found a shirt and tossed it at Marinette. “Put that on.”

“Wh-”

“Do you know how to put on a shirt? Or does your mom dress you every morning?” Gabrielle looked her up and down.

“I know how to put on a shirt,” Marinette replied matter-of-factly. “I’m just confused. Are we friends now or-?”

“Gross, no.” Gabrielle wrinkled her nose and moved over to the dresser as Marinette turned her back to change.

“So, if we’re not friends, then what are we?” she asked as Gabrielle examined a pair of black jeans.

She lowered them, a thoughtful expression on her face before she shrugged and tossed them at Marinette too. “I can’t party with my old crew without risking them finding out my secret, but you on the other hand are stupid enough not to tell anyone despite how delicious it would be to watch my world crumble after I was so mean to you,” she explained while rummaging through Marinette’s shoes. “So, I’m settling for you tonight.”

“Thanks?” Marinette tilted her head to the side. “I think.”

“Where’s your makeup?” Gabrielle asked. When Marinette retrieved a small pouch from her vanity, Gabrielle’s eyes narrowed. “Ugh, this is all you have?”

“I don’t wear a lot of makeup,” Marinette said defensively.

“If I weren’t broke, I’d buy you a proper makeup collection, but we’ll work with what we have for now.” She tucked it under her arm. “Come on. We’ll do your makeup in the car.”

“We- wait!” Marinette called as Gabrielle descended the stairs.

“Hi, sweetie, is this one of your new friends?” her mom asked as Marinette scrambled after Gabrielle. They exchanged glances, and Gabrielle gave her a stern look.

“Uh, yeah. She’s one of my classmates,” Marinette said.

“Gabrielle Burton, it’s nice to meet you, madame,” she said in the politest tone Marinette had ever heard from her. “We’re meeting up with a group of friends to see a movie. Do you mind if I steal her for the evening? My driver will bring her home afterward.”

“Of course, you girls go have fun,” her mom said.

Gabrielle didn’t wait for Marinette to respond before taking her wrist.

“Uh, bye, mom!” Marinette called over her shoulder.

Marinette blinked a few times as Gabrielle shoved her into the back of a town car, and the driver headed uptown. Gabrielle turned her chin with one finger, shaking the foundation bottle in the other hand.

“Close your eyes,” she ordered. When Marinette hesitated, she added, “Relax, I’m not going to make you look ugly. I’d never be seen arriving with someone who looks like a wannabe beauty guru.”

Marinette pursed her lips but relented, allowing Gabrielle to make her over on the drive. Several times Gabrielle grumbled about her limited options, stating several expensive products that would have worked better. Nevertheless, she attained some level of satisfaction because she instructed Marinette to open her eyes and look in the mirror.

“Wow.” Marinette’s eyebrows raised. Her makeup never looked half this good when she did it herself—a skilled hand made all the difference. She peeked up at Gabrielle applying her own lip gloss and pursed her lips. “So, what kind of party is this?”

“Relax, goody-two-shoes, the most exciting thing at this party is wine. My parents don’t let me go to trashy parties.” Gabrielle rolled her eyes, removing her large trench coat to reveal a sparkly black dress with mesh cutouts along the waist. “Just try not to act too lowbrow, okay? Don’t embarrass me.”

“I’ll do my best?” Marinette said as they pulled up to the front steps.

“Great.” Gabrielle tossed her compact into her purse and kicked open the door. “Oh, and just because we’re arriving together does not mean you are allowed to socialize with me here. Don’t hang off me like a sad little koala. Go dance and have fun with other people.”

“Right. Wouldn’t want anyone to think we’re friends,” Marinette said.

“Exactly. I’m so glad you understand.”

Marinette took in the towering mansion with wide eyes, twirling around in the foyer to catch all of the detail work. She’d been hanging out with her new friends for almost a month, but she still wasn’t quite used to such luxurious mansions.

“Cut it out! You act like you’ve never seen crown molding before,” Gabrielle hissed. She closed Marinette’s jaw with her finger. “Just be normal.”

“Yes, because this is so normal.” Marinette gestured to the marble statue fountain in the middle of the foyer, and Gabrielle rolled her eyes.

“It is for these people. Now get away from me.” She spun Marinette around and pushed her toward the sitting room where various groups of people were chatting over hor d’oeurves before retreating to the living room dancefloor.

Marinette stumbled several feet, bumping into someone’s back and falling onto her butt.

“Sorry!” She rubbed her head, but the warm green eyes staring down at her held no contempt. “Adrien?”

[paperpocalypse]

french press.

50 Wordless Ways to Say “I Love You”: 48. Getting them a coffee just the way they like it.

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Word Count: 1,375 words

Warning: Swearing

Five is a man of simple tastes. Always has been. He’s never asked for needless things because they are exactly that, and even as a child, he had found the idea of chasing extravagance a waste of time.

Five is a man of simple tastes.

But he’d rather stick his head inside a wasp nest than drink instant coffee two nights in a row.

“If you don’t breathe when you drink it, it tastes less like dirt,” you say from your bed, a Styrofoam cup in one hand and the kill order in the other. When he looks up from loading his gun, you lift your cup in a toast. “How about it, Five?”

“I’ll pass,” he replies sardonically.

“But what about your withdrawals?”

“I don’t get any.”

A pause. “I have some aspirin, you know. For headaches.”

Five returns your smile with a close-lipped one of his own, slamming the magazine into place. “Good for you.”

You just hum, maintaining eye contact with him as you down the rest of your beverage. To his mild satisfaction, your smile morphs into a grimace at the taste.

Good.

“Deaux should be getting back from the bar by now.” He looks over the log the two of you had written yesterday. “You remember the plan?”

You toss your cup into the trash. “Of course. Home invasion.” Your tone flattens into something more serious – as it usually does when you talk about work. You check your pistol and tuck it into your holster. “Should be in-and-out. He’ll be drunk as a skunk.”

And dead as a doornail. “You’re driving this time?”

“Only because you asked so nicely,” you say.

Five rolls his eyes as you give him a cheeky grin. After making sure everything’s been gathered up – which isn’t much of a task, given how little either of you possess – Five checks the two of you out of the motel and heads down to the car.

As he settles into the passenger seat, Commission briefcase at his feet and rifle case in his lap, you put the keys into the ignition and turn on the radio. Classical music – the one genre you both agree on.

(It’s a violin concerto and he thinks of Vanya.)

Your fingers drum the wheel softly in time with the music. “I love driving through small towns at night,” you murmur, exiting the decrepit parking lot. “There’s no hassle at all …”

He just grunts in acknowledgement, eyeing you while you flip the signal to turn. A kind of lightness sticks to your expression like plaster; Five indulges in contemplating it for a moment. For someone who’s worked for the Commission for almost thirty years, you’ve never struck him as the assassin type in between assignments. You’re too genuine. Too friendly.

You’re damn good at compartmentalizing, he’ll give you that.

You brake at the stop sign right before the street where Deaux lives. No cars are in sight. The violinist starts a series of runs.

“That coffee was terrible.”

“’Shit’ would be more accurate.”

You snort.

By the time the house comes into view, the concerto isn’t anywhere near finished, so he turns it down to the lowest volume and waits for it to cut off along with the engine. Dead quiet. This is the best part, Five thinks to himself – the calm before the storm.

Next to him, you straighten your jacket. The weak moonlight casts your face in an eerie glow. “Doing the honors this time?” you murmur, getting your mask from the back.

“Sure,” he responds.

As Five exits the car and approaches the front door with you, he disregards, with irritation, the warnings of a headache. Son of a bitch. He can deal with it.

—

Drunk as a skunk, dead as a doornail – killing Jean Deaux is the easiest assignment the two of you have had all week. After taking the toaster and some other things of relative value, you throw them into the trunk of the car, drive it into the woods, and then head to 1985 Chicago for your next assignment.

The time travel turns what should’ve been a minor headache into a goddamn migraine. The jetlag hits him right after, so when Five opens the door to your shared room, he pulls his hat off and takes the nearest bed. It’s about two in the morning. He has some time to nap it off.

However, when he hears you dump the briefcase onto your bed and start towards the door, he summons enough energy to say your name. “Where are you going?” he grouses.

You wave him back. “To get a lay of the land,” you say, keeping your voice low. “You go get some shut-eye.”

Your words make him grimace inside. He doesn’t need your pity. But for once, Five doesn’t have the energy to go back and forth with you, so he simply grunts and allows his eyes to close again. The door clicks as you leave.

The next thing he knows, he smells coffee.

“Morning again, partner.”

Your voice sounds very close. When Five opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is your face just a foot away from his.

“Jesus Christ.” He sits up, swearing more when his head protests it violently.

“Nope, just me.” You smile as he rubs his face. “But I do have coffee. The real kind.”

That’s when he notices the steaming cup in your hand that says Ivy’s Café on the cardboard sleeve. You offer it to him, and after scrutinizing you for an ulterior motive – it’s still instinctive after forty odd years, though in the back of his mind, he knows you’re simply being yourself – he takes it.

You open your other hand to reveal two small, round pills. Meeting your knowing gaze only briefly, he takes them as well.

“Thanks,” he mutters, chasing down the aspirin with a gulp of coffee.

As soon as the first drop hits his tongue, Five wonders where Ivy’s Café is. His eyebrows pinch together as he swallows. Smooth and rich, hot but not scalding. No sugar, no cream. 

Exactly the way he likes it.

“I know I’m enabling your coffee addiction, but –” you shrug as he takes another sip – “we don’t have the luxury of quitting.”

“Coffee or the Commission?”

Your smile becomes slightly cynical. “Both, I guess.”

Five huffs out an equally dry chuckle, filing your answer away for later. To his relief, the throbbing in his head is starting to wane.

“Anyway,” you clear your throat. “I’m guessing I did right by the coffee.”

“You did.”

“Their croissants look good, too. Not as good as the ones in France, but still up there.” You stand up, swiping the kill order from the nightstand to skim over it. “We’re not so crunched for time anymore, so we could go there for lunch.”

The stream of coffee abruptly tapers off. “I wouldn’t mind that,” he murmurs, narrowing his eyes at the empty cup. He blinks over to the trashcan to throw it away.

“Great. It’s a date, then.”

What. When he turns around, giving you a stiff look, you wave your hands dismissively.

“In a completely platonic sense, of course,” you amend.

“Are you ready to go?” Five finds it appropriate to change the subject, not liking the way your words ring in his mind. You know about Delores. He’s not interested at all, if that is what you’re implying.

Your hands lower. “… Yeah, I’m ready.” He looks in the mirror to adjust his tie, and after a moment, your reflection approaches his. “Look,” you say, “I’m sorry about that comment. I didn’t mean to offend.”

Five holds your gaze, smoothing his tie out, and the guilt in your expression causes him to sigh. You really are too genuine. “Just don’t do it again,” he replies, less brusque than before. “Let’s just put some hours in before lunch.”

Ruefulness touches the corners of your smile. You nod. Five nods back, and as the two of you leave the motel room, he thinks, no, it won’t be a date. His loyalty still lies with someone else, and you’re his business partner and that’s how it should be. Simple as that.

But he’ll pay for lunch. It’s only fair.

[writing-in-april]

9 o’clock

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Barista Reader

Summary: Reader is an owner of a small coffee shop that Spencer is a late night regular to. Reader finally learns Spencer’s name and why he’s so obsessed with sugar in his coffee.

A/N: Sorry for my little unprompted hiatus I was having some family problems! Here’s a little fic with two painfully shy people! I had this idea half written for a while so I was really excited to finally finish it! I also funnily have like 3 other fics with Spencer about coffee as WIPs rn lol

Warnings: Non this is a super fluffy meet cute!

Masterlist Wordcount: 1.1k

The quiet customer that had been coming in at 9 o’clock on the dot made my mind swirl with constant possibilities on who he was. He only ever spoke to me to tell his order then maybe a quiet thank you if I was lucky. The only reason I had a deep urge to start a conversation with him was that every time I repeated my loosely scripted prompts to attain his order he always looked as if he wanted to say more. Plus, his appearance left an air of mystery as to who he was, awakening curiosity in my usually shy soul. And, the fact that he would come in exactly at 9 o’clock everyday only to disappear for days at a time. So really, there were a lot of reasons why I wanted to get to know the stranger.

Maybe he was just as shy as I was. Despite dealing with people every day and having a myriad of conversations with people my heart raced, my face blushed, and my hands got clammy every time a customer decided to veer off topic from coffee or books into something else. I guess coffee and books were my safe space, I could talk about them for hours non stop.

The mysterious stranger however, made me nervous about just simply asking if I could take his order, despite it being almost exactly the same every time. A large black coffee with no room.

The first time he came in I thought he was one of the types to love his coffee completely black with no additives. That was until right after I gave him his brew he went over to where the sugar was kept out and nearly dumped all of it into the large cup.

This time when he came in I had forgotten to set out the extra sugar container I had taken to setting out right before 9 pm since he had become a punctual regular.

His dejected face from seeing the empty sugar container made me sad, his little smiles I saw always made my day. He was probably assuming I wouldn’t refill it this close to closing time. Luckily, I was able to immediately remedy the situation as I had filled it up but had only forgotten to set it out. A fresh glass cylinder shaker full to the brim just for him sat behind the counter waiting especially for him ready to cure his frown.

A little smirk hid behind the espresso machine as I put a lid and sleeve on his fresh cup of dark roast. I placed the steaming cup of joe on the counter along with the fresh shaker. My smile threatened to break into a broad grin at the sight of his own expression lighting up at the sight of the white little crystals. The familiar comforting silence was blissful but, I found myself wanting to break it as I saw him tip the shaker over and fill his cup with a steady stream of sweetness.

“Can I ask you a question?” He gave out a little squeak and almost spilled over the coffee that he was drowning in sugar obviously not expecting me to say anything. I quietly cursed myself for breaking the delicate balance of silent conversation I had enjoyed throughout the weeks.

“Y-yeah, sure.” He stuttered out with a curious gaze. Now it was my turn to be caught off guard, a handsome stranger talking to me and sounding slightly interested in conversation? Unheard of. I almost forgot what my question was in the first place, finally my own stuttered response came out after he blinked a few times in question at you.

“H-how do you stand that much sugar in your coffee? I mean I like a lot of sugar but, I usually pair it with cream and I don’t see you do that-” Oh god, I was rambling now and along with the stuttering I probably looked like a skittish fool to him. Face flushing further I looked down to try and avoid the eyes of the only person in your cafe silently wishing a customer would walk in to free you from your embarrassment. But, who gets coffee at 9pm right?

“ Well- I really need caffeine for when I work since I work a lot of hours and it really helps but I really don’t like the taste of coffee so hence the sugar. Creamer just dilutes the amount of caffeine I would end up intaking. And- I could drink tea instead but that doesn’t wake me up as good compared to the coffee.” I just blinked up at him with mild surprise, I was not expecting someone to ramble even more than I did. Courage to speak again bubbled up within me so I stuttered out a quiet remark to his little ramble.

“Ah- Ssso that’s why you’re usually my only customer here after 7.” There was an awkward pause, almost like he suddenly forgot how to speak. Instead of waiting for him to fill the permeating silence in the shop I figured I might as well ask for his name. It’s not like it couldn’t get any more awkward then it already was and I was dying to put a name to the face I had been looking at the same time every night. “What’s your name?”

“S-spencer. Spencer Reid.”

“Nice to meet you… M-my name’s Y/N.”

Unfortunately our meeting was cut short when his phone rang calling him back to whatever busy job he had that kept him up all hours of the night. He quickly and quietly departed with a promise to come in the next time he was around at 9.

I took a sip of my own coffee that was similarly overly sweet with a smile on my face. I couldn’t wait to see the handsome stranger I know had a name for. Spencer… It fit him well and I couldn’t wait for his next visit at 9 o’clock.

The smile never left my face as I cleaned up for closing time, never before had I felt so giddy to be deep cleaning the espresso machine. As I finished up behind the bar I swept around to clean up the hand off counter when I noticed a still clean napkin sitting carefully at the edge right where Spencer had been standing.

The little squeal I let out at the sight of a phone number written on the pristine white napkin echoed off the walls of the shop.

I wouldn’t even have to wait for 9 o’clock tomorrow.

[pinkhairedlily]

Every Glance A Step Closer

Prompt: Glances | AO3 link here. Connect with me on Twitter. Happy SS Month everyone! 🌸🍅🥗 @ssskmonth

“This one barely goes out of her laboratory. I swear to god she smells like formaline.”

“He smells like the dust and cobwebs in the library. I cannot even pronounce what he’s doing – archi…something. I just know he handles lots of old papers and books. B-o-r-i-n-g.”

“So anyway, Haruno Sakura meet Uchiha Sasuke.”

This was her one free day in her experiment period week, but she needed to steam off for a night and so she allowed her friend to tug her along for a chill night drink. What Sakura didn’t expect was to socialize with a small group of people in their year and to suffer the cold indifference of the guy in front of her.

To her another surprise, he held out a hand to her. “Hello there.” She took it, slightly conscious whether she used her formaline-cancelling hand lotion. A brief and firm shake and he quicky turned away.

“Sasuke finally speaks.”

“That hello sounded a little spicier.”

“Oh my, that hand holding definitely had some electricity.”

The cajoling and teasing finally stopped when the first round of beers came in. Local university gossip was the go-to conversation opener, from the open secret student-teacher relationships to recent couple break-ups. It eventually led to Sasuke and his list of confessions.

“I heard you turned down Mio from fashion design department.”

“No way. I heard she was approached by Celine for a gig.”

“Really Sasuke? That makes her the fifth girl you dumped for this week alone.”

“You never actually had a girlfriend, did you?”

Sakura stared at him doe-eyed, genuinely curious of his answer. He returned her gaze and raised one brow. “I have high standards.”

Oh wow, what a douche, Sakura thought. Hoots erupted in their table but only for a few seconds. While the drinking and the exchanges went on, Sakura found herself wanting to go home early. She was bored and her neck was tired from not looking at him. Under the guise of stretching her already strained neck, she stole a glance, hoping to have a brief moment to take in all of his features and remember his face.

But he was already looking at her. His eyes went to the door of the restaurant then back to her. Bored? He mouthed.

Sakura looked at the door, knowing perfectly what he meant. She chugged her supposedly last bottle of beer and made a small gap with her thumb and index finger. He caught her signal and started to stand up. Their group was tipsy enough not to notice their sudden movements as they shuffled out of the door.

She halted after a few steps, Sasuke’s figure already paces in front of her, wondering whether she should say goodbye or just walk towards the opposite direction back to her apartment. She didn’t think too much of it and quickly chose the latter.

She had to get ice cream first though, a sugar rush to help jolt her senses awake. She was choosing between chocolate and strawberry when a large figure stood beside her.

“A vanilla one, please,” Sasuke said, looking smug with his hands both in his pockets. “Your treat.”

Sakura felt weirded out by the fact that he actively kept on engaging her. His reputation preceded him, but she decided to humor him for tonight. “So library science and you’re an archivist.”

“Intern archivist actually. So you actually know me.” There was arrogance in his voice that made Sakura almost choke on her ice cream.

“Process of elimination. There is no male major in our year in the History department.” She glanced at him and saw that smug look slowly transition into a slight flush of embarrassment. Cute.

“And what if it was a hobby?” Sasuke fiddled with his still unopened vanilla ice cream.

“There was a job posting in the bulletin specifically calling for Library Science students.” Their feet led them to the park still bustling with university night life and settled on a bench under the canopy of a fully bloomed dogwood tree. “See, I’m not your admirer.”

“Well, that’s a downer,” he smirked.

They talked like that for a while, fleetingly exploring related topics to their degree programs, the usual prominent teachers, the busy schedules, until Sakura finished her chocolate and strawberry popsicles. It was on her way home, finally this time, that she realized he never ate his ice cream.

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

She next saw him on their building’s rooftop with a group of friends, a piece of unsmoked cigarette in between his fingers. He quickly met her eyes, did a brief nod, and looked away. She inadvertently expected more than that but she wasn’t here for a smoke break, and it wasn’t her intention to take it further. She was here for a quick getaway from her microscope and to appreciate the city view dotted with the flowers of spring.

He kept glancing her way, however. He would be in the middle of a conversation and his eyes would stray to her, and she would catch it in her periphery, trying not to notice it. She got tired after a few repetitions of this, and the next time he glanced, she caught his gaze.

Stop it, she mouthed.

I’m bored, he mouthed back. Walk with me. His fingers mimicked the gesture, his fingers walking in the air.

She put her hands together and slightly bowed in apology. Next time, she winked at him before running back to her laboratory, a small smile painted on her lips.

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

It became like this for the next few weeks; they conversed through glances and awkward gestures whenever they were in public with their friends. When it was time to come home, they would walk in separate ways and meet again in the park under the same dogwood tree and they would converse for hours. It was mostly Sakura word-vomiting about her experiments while Sasuke would look at her with abandoned fascination.

“Stop doing that,” Sakura called him out one time.

“Stop doing what?” Sasuke asked, his ember eyes never leaving her face.

“You stare too much I feel like I’m melting.”

Sasuke made a small grunt and wore his hoodie over his head to mess with her more. He waved his hands on both sides of his face, and she immediately understood the reference of a horse having its blinders on. “Good because usually I’m the one being stared at.”

Sakura reached out to his hoodie and tightened the strings around his neck. “You’re hopeless.”

He leaned forward, almost touching her lips, his face still between her palms. “Hmm, maybe I am.”

Sakura moved away just as quickly as he moved into her personal space, a hot flush creeping to her cheeks. She hated this particular situation since blushing always made her look like a cherry tomato.

“Cute.” Sasuke apparently said his thoughts aloud because he was taken aback the moment she glanced back at him. “Cool, I said cool.”

She laughed this off just as he completely covered his face inside his hoodie.

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

She visited the basement section of the library for reference materials. Her writeup was due tomorrow and she was missing a section on historical evolution of vaccines and dosages for the viral DNA she uncovered. The small library slip in her hand, she made her way to the dimly lit rows on Biology. The shelves were twice taller than her, but there were spaces in between stacked books.

Would make it very easy to spot a ghost, Sakura chided to herself. A shadow moved along the row adjacent to the Biology section, but she dismissed this as the library staff. Her fingers traced the spines of ragged books and examined the list of recommended titles in her hand. When she raised her head, ember eyes stared back at her between the spaces of the opposite row.

Hi, Sasuke mouthed. He glanced around and seeing no one, he whispered, “Can I come over to your side?”

She found it hard to stop her grin from rising. “More eyes, the better.”

It took only a few minutes for Sasuke to find all the titles in her list, but they littered around, walking in between shelves, taking one random book and flipping its pages, stopping when they find something interesting. When heavy footfalls were heard on the stairs, Sakura inclined her head, gesturing she needed to go.

Sasuke seemed to misunderstand as he pulled her through the sleeve of her cardigan to the area further behind the room, and as the shadows grew darker, and the noise became more muted, she heard the racing beat of her heart.

Finally reaching the wall, Sasuke slumped to the floor and patted the space beside him. Sakura followed suit, consciously leaving a space between them as she was slowly becoming hyper-aware of their proximity.

“How are you faring so far? Done with the requirements?” Sasuke asked, his voice low but audible enough for her.

Sakura nodded, and after beat, rolled her eyes at him. “Shouldn’t you be out there assisting others?”

“I believe you need more immediate help.” Sasuke pulled his knees in to rest his chin on and trained his eyes on her. “Sakura.”

“Sasuke.”

The longest minute of silence hung between them, tension strung by the stare, until Sakura broke it off with her eyes shifting to the floor. “What are you doing?”

“Flirting,” he said like it’s a matter-of-fact. “This is what they usually do to me.”

“And what should I do?” She let the words roll out of her mouth, unsure why she asked, uncertain also of what he felt. She met his gaze again.

And in that moment, he just sincerely looked at her. “Flirt back.”

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

Sakura was done for the school year. She will be officially graduating in a month, and to celebrate, she went out with their group for a sem-ender discotheque clubbing. She was gonna shoot her shot for a one-night stand with literally anyone who had chemistry with her – haha she was just kidding. As this seemed to be the final cap-off to her university life, she went all out with her clothes Sakura-style – basically a boxy cropped tea, high waisted jeans, and old heels her best friend gave to her in pity.

This was actually her first club experience, but she was glad to be with veteran friends. The first few minutes inside a closed space with bass boosted, unfamiliar crowds, and lots of skinship made her very uncomfortable. Her only reprieve was the free-flowing drinks – ironically she can handle alcohol well. The disco lights would have made it difficult to spot faces, but she found him in the dark, on the corner directly across her group, his eyes already glued on her.

She wondered if he ever forgave her for scrambling out of his presence in the reference section last time, explicitly avoiding his request to flirt back. It seemed like she worried for nothing since Sasuke raised his glass to her and mouthed congratulations. She raised her glass back, resolving to mind her own business tonight. But he kept looking, a smirk etched on his beautiful face, urging her to meet him halfway.

She didn’t need to look for an excuse as her friends suddenly pulled her into the harmless mosh pit of friendly grinding. Sakura allowed herself to move to the beat, enjoying the bubble offered by the club to lose herself for a few seconds. But she kept glancing towards his direction, his eyes looking for her in the mass of bodies. At first, the glances were mischievous, like playing hide-and-seek, then they held gravity, heavy lidded and palpable.

Sasuke was impatient, and soon enough, at her next spin on her heels, he was right behind her, his hands hovering over her arms, seeking consent to touch. Sakura turned to face him, one part shy, other parts unnerved, and she slowly encircled her arms around his neck, her eyes a definite yes. His hands went to her waist, and he brought her closer to his embrace.

“You don’t have your hoodie though,” Sakura said, a little louder over the crooning of Carly Rae Jepsen to Gimmie Love. “Someone will definitely see you.”

Sasuke closed whatever distance was between them and brought his lips to her ears. “That’s a relief then. I want to be seen with you.”

“Simp,” Sakura teased. “You’re probably expecting a confession out of me, aren’t you?” This was a long time coming and she wanted to get it over with tonight especially when she had alcohol buzzing on her side.

“I am actually,” Sasuke said. “I was hoping to beat you to it in the library last time, but you ran away. Coward.”

“What?”

“What? Didn’t you hear me?”

“You like me.” Sakura said in realization. She edged her face away from his hold to take a good look at his embarrassed face. “Oh, you really do.”

“You could be dense sometimes, Sakura.” Sasuke poked her forehead playfully, and he was rewarded with a bubbly laughter from her.

Their friends finally noticed them and the intense skinship happening. The yells and woots started to drown out the speakers.

“That took you two long enough, huh?”

“They really waited for the end of the school year to do their big reveal.”

“As if the whole school doesn’t know already.”

“What?” Sasuke and Sakura asked in unison.

“It was the constant eyesmex.”

“Really, they do it every time with no shame. It gives me secondhand embarrassment.”

“Right? Sometimes I think I need to yell get a room.”

“Maybe they’ll get a room tonight.”

“Oh my god, shut up."

🌸 It's my first time participating actively for SS Month so please go easy on me haha. Work is loosely inspired by Nevertheless webtoon (which now has a Netflix adaptation). Hope you enjoyed reading!

[hxneyandespressx]

if i were a man (i’d be the man)

summary: jj holds a press conference while on a high-profile case. she has to deal with the stupid male reporters. after the conference is done, jj goes to the nearest bathroom, away from the crowd, and screams and swears to her heart’s content

word count: 6.2k 

content warnings: mentions of emotional and verbal abuse, guns, violence, blood, suicide

a/n: inspiration for this fic is from criminal minds season 4 episode 16 “pleasure is my business”

☆。*。☆。

It was a rough start to a Wednesday morning for a particular FBI agent. She almost twisted her ankle on her early morning jog, got stuck in traffic, and had to wait in a long line for her co-workers’ coffee orders. Soon enough, she started to wish that she took the metro instead. Media communications liaison Jennifer “JJ” Jareau woke up today and chose violence. She huffed in frustration at how her morning went.

Walking toward the bullpen with the coffee orders in her hands, JJ was greeted with “hellos” and “good mornings”. Not wanting to have her co-workers profile her, JJ bottled up her frustration and grumpiness and put a smile on her face. It was a rule amongst the group to never profile each other. With learning an assortment of profiling tactics, JJ knew how to form a realistic smile without genuine happiness. Creases around the eyes, smile lines contoured the mouth, sparkles in her baby blue eyes. The short blonde perfected the fake smile that could fool anyone, even expert profilers.

“Good morning, guys.” JJ said with a bright smile on her face. She held two cardboard trays filled with various coffee orders. She placed one of the trays on Emily’s desk, so she can pass out the orders to her co-workers. She called out the order name as she passed the cup to the person.

“One French vanilla latte for Ms. Garcia. Two black coffees for Emily and Derek. And finally, a coffee with extra cream and sugar for Spence.” Everyone said their thank you’s to the blonde. Then, there was one coffee cup left. A cappuccino.

“Happy Wednesday, my nerds.” Rossi said as he approached the group of tired agents. JJ smiled and handed the cappuccino to the elderly man.

“Grazie.” He thanked the media liaison for her efforts to bring his favorite morning beverage. The group spent some time chatting nonsense before the case briefing. Thirty minutes went by and all of them disbursed into their desks to finish up the paperwork. JJ headed down to her office to work on choosing the next case after the one that was currently ongoing.

After settling in her office chair, JJ took a look around her office. Messy stacks of pending files scattered her desk. Empty coffee cups and water bottles lined the file cabinet. JJ checked the time on her watch. 8:12 AM. About two hours to kill. The blonde put her hair up into a ponytail and took in a deep breath. She dove into the nearest pile of manila files, looking through all the documents and photographs to determine which case for the BAU team to take on after the current case.

As the clock ticked closer to 10 AM, JJ picked up today’s case files and head out of her office. Strutting through the bullpen, JJ entered the briefing room slightly out of breath.

“Sorry I’m late, everyone,” JJ said while passing the manila folders out to her co-workers. After handing out the necessary materials, she grabbed the remote from the center of the wooden table.

“Sam Winchester was found in Fulton Park, in the Stuyvesant Heights neighborhood of Brooklyn. Eighteen stab wounds to his chest and neck,” JJ explained as she clicked on the remote to switch between the crime scene photos. “He is one of the victims dumped at various locations of Brooklyn that was found last night.”

“Hold up. One of the victims?” Derek asked.

“Yeah. So far this killer built up a rep sheet of five kills.” JJ stated. Hotch raised one of his eyebrows at the new information.

“Seven? Why haven’t the NYPD notified us immediately after the first three kills?” Hotch asked the media liaison.

“Probably the department thought they could handle the crimes,” JJ explained. “That was the case until they realized that they needed help.”

The young blonde switched to the next slide, showing one of the other victims dumped in North Williamsburg.

“What’s interesting about the locations is that the first victim was drowned in the Hudson River. And as more victims appear, the disposal methods get more dramatic. Maybe it plays some role in the unsub’s pathology.” Spencer said as he looked at the screen, observing for any patterns.

“Like with one of the recent victims, the disposal site is in Cobble Hill. It’s typically occupied by those who are relatively wealthy.” Rossi said to continue Spencer’s thoughts. “This unsub is getting bolder with his disposal sites. I’m concerned with there being an end game to this.” Emily stated. Everyone at the round table shifted through the various crime scene photos and documents. Rossi took hold of one of the crime scene photographs: a reversed ten of cups tarot card. “It is also apparent that the unsub is leaving tarot cards at the scene of the crime.”

“Tarot cards? What’s the significance?” Derek asked.

“Maybe to tell of the inevitable fortune the victims faced?” Emily said. 

“Well, each card has a different meaning when it is upright and reversed. And usually, when doing a reading, three to five cards are pulled to tell a fortune.” Penelope explained as she typed away on her work laptop. It had not surprised anyone that the technical analyst had an interest in tarot readings and astrology.  

“You know, the first documented tarot packs were recorded between 1440 and 1450 AD in Milan, Ferrara, Florence, and Bologna when additional trump cards with allegorical illustrations were added to the common four-suit pack. These new decks were called carte da trionfi, triumph cards, and the additional cards are known simply as trionfi, which became "trumps" in English. The oldest surviving tarot cards are the 15 Visconti-Sforza tarot decks painted in the mid-15th century for the rulers of the Duchy of Milan. The Duke of Milan described a 60-card deck with 16 cards having images of the Roman gods and suits depicting four kinds of birds.” Spencer talked about the history of tarot cards, with hand gestures to accompany his little ramble. When he finished, everyone at the table stared at him. The young FBI agents sheepishly smiled as Emily poked his left cheek.

“Since when did you learn about tarot cards?” Emily asked. 

“I learned about it when I took a college course on the Italian Renaissance.” Spencer sheepishly smiled.

“Well, whatever it is, it seems like there is a story to be told––or rather to be heard.” JJ said as she stared at the crime scene photos, her eyebrows knitted together in bewilderment.  

“That’s what we need to find out. Wheels up in 20.” Hotch called out. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The BAU members sat comfortably on the jet, each in their little world. That was until the unit chief called on everyone for a case discussion. 

“Let’s go over victimology.” Hotch said to call on the group. Everyone moved closer to the unit chief to better discuss the case. Derek sat in an armchair, with Emily next to him. Across from them were Spencer and JJ. Hotch leaned against one of the seats, practically sitting on the adjustable arm of the plane seat. Rossi sat on the tan velvet couch, adjacent to JJ. 

“Reid.” Hotch called on the genius of the group. 

“White. Male. Between the ages of 45-55. Jobs ranging from a stockbroker to assets protection manager. All of them have cheated on their wives multiple times and some even had sexual harassment accusations.” The young curly-haired man said to start the discussion. 

“Even if these men cheated on their wives and got those accusations, they still didn’t deserve the multiple stab wounds to meet their end.” Emily said. 

JJ looked through the case file to see the reports on all five victims.

“The victims’ names are Igor Andreevich, Lucas Duncan, Hunter Mcevoy, Sam Winchester, Jared Kalinski.” JJ called the names out like it was a roll call. 

“These are the five victims that this unsub killed so far?” Hotch asked. The blonde nodded her head and said “yes, sir” in response.

“As the victim count increased, the more stab wounds appeared on the body.” Rossi said to point out an observation.

“But the M.E. said that most of these stab wounds were created post mortem. Meaning that the initial stab was to get the job done efficiently and he went back in to fuel his rage and/or sexual needs.” Spencer

“Are we assuming his sexual orientation? Because there aren’t many homosexual serial killers, kid” Rossi said. 

“It could be a possibility. We have to consider our options.” Hotch said. 

Just then, the laptop turned on and showed the beautiful Penelope Garcia. 

“How’s it going, my crime-fighting musketeers?” Penelope asked. Everyone, even Hotch, smiled at her cheery greeting.

“Garcia, start compiling files on each of our victims,” Hotch told the technical analyst. “Everything financial and personal. Bank statements, credit card bills, investments, wills, trust funds. Anything that will tell us more about the victim’s lives.”

“Faster than a Hotch rocket.” After that was said into the air, Penelope felt embarrassed while Hotch looked at her with his usual stone-cold face. Derek sighed and shook his head, taking a sip of his coffee to hide his second-hand embarrassment for his babygirl.  

To break the silence, Rossi grunted and coughed into his fist. 

“Based on the jobs these men had, we could safely assume that they were killed in the financial district of New York. Then, the unsub transported the bodies to a dumpsite.” Emily said as she read off from the case file in her hands.

“But why from Manhattan to Brooklyn? That is a lot of weight to carry.” Derek asked. 

“Maybe Brooklyn holds a lot of significance to him. Something from his childhood and he can’t let go.” JJ said. Everyone nodded their heads in agreement as they all closed their files. 

“Once we land, do you want me to get in contact with the media to inform the public?” The media liaison asked the unit chief.

“No. We need to hold back on it. Giving him the media’s attention is exactly what he wants. He wants his story to be heard and we will not give him that.” Hotch explained. JJ nodded in response and wrote down media concerns in her small blue notepad. 

“Dave, You and Prentiss go to the crime scene,” Hotch instructed the group. “The rest of us will get up to speed at the precinct.” Everyone nodded in agreement with the unit chief.

After discussing the victimology and the nature of the case, everyone separated and occupied their own space on the jet. Derek on the couch, listening to music. Spencer by the window, reading the Hound of the Baskervilles. Rossi and Hotch in the back, conversing whatever two elderly men talk about. 

The blonde media liaison stared out of the window until she felt a presence next to her. She looked away to find Emily standing in the aisle with a cup of coffee and a bag of Cheetos in her hands.

“Want some company?” Emily asked as she took the empty seat.

“I don’t mind at all.” JJ smiled at the brunette. The shorter woman felt special that Emily did this for her. She took the Cheetos and the coffee mug from her co-worker. As she grabbed them, their fingers brushed against each other. A little pink blush formed on JJ’s cheeks. Not wanting Emily to know about the silly crush the blonde had on her, JJ covered half her face with her beloved blue blanket. Emily chuckled at JJ’s actions and placed her hand on the blonde’s right shoulder, closing her eyes for a quick nap. 

JJ carefully took some of her dark blue blanket and wrapped it around Emily’s right shoulder. She looked at the brunette who was sleeping on her shoulder and softly smiled.

The blonde took sips of the coffee as she stared out of the window. The sunlight bounced off the water particles in the clouds, creating a mini rainbow over the tops of the white clouds. The media liaison took in the silence as a treat, before landing into the chaos of New York.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A government-mandated black SUV arrived at the 25th precinct. Everyone––sans Emily and Rossi––got out of the car and was greeted by a lively short woman. 

“Detective Miller? We spoke on the phone.” JJ shook hands with the short woman. 

“Please, call me Kennedy. Thanks for coming in.”

“No problem. These are agents Hotchner, Morgan, and Doctor Reid.” JJ introduced them while gesturing at the person, in respective order.

“Hey, why don't you go on inside and make yourself comfortable.” Kennedy said. The remaining BAU members nodded their heads and made their way inside the busy precinct. Police officers swarmed everywhere as the federal agents weaved their way to an empty conference room. 

Everyone worked at a swift pace to get everything set up. JJ and Derek went with a police officer to get boxes filled with case files and other materials. Hotch talked with Detective Miller to get information on how her officers dealt with the unsub so far. While all this is happening, Spencer worked on the geographical profile, so the agents know where to look for the unsub. 

“What do these tarot cards mean?” Hotch asked the group. Everyone shook their head “no”, signifying that they had no clue what each card meant. 

“I’ll call Penelope and ask her about the meanings of the cards.” Derek said as he took out his flip phone to dial Penelope’s number.

“Live from Quantico, Virginia, it is the Divine Miss Penelope.” Penelope greeted the group. 

“Hey, sugar mama. I need something from you.” Derek said.

“Talk to me.”

“I need you to interpret the meanings of the tarot cards that were left at the different crime scenes.”

“Ah- I’ll be your little witch today. Hit me with have you have.”

“Alright, I’m putting you on speaker.” Derek puts down the phone on the wooden table, so everyone could hear what the technical analyst has to say. 

“Ten of Cups, Garcia.” Hotch said. 

“When upright, the Ten of Cups embody happiness, joy, contentment, and emotional satisfaction in your family, relationship, or companion. It represents an idyllic state of comfort, harmony, peace, and love which makes you feel like you are in paradise. When reversed, it could mean shattered dreams, disharmony, or a broken family.” Penelope explained. 

“Reversed Wheel of Fortune card.” Spencer called out. 

“When the wheel is reversed, it means that luck has not been on your side and misfortunes have been following you. When it's associated with this card, you must understand that these are due to external influences that you cannot control.” Penelope said. 

“Reversed Justice card.” Derek said next.

“A reversed Justice tarot card could indicate various things. One Justice reversal meaning is to show you are living in denial. You are not willing to accept the consequences of your actions or others. You are running from your guilt. You must, however, be aware that these are actions that are in the past. Other Justice reversal meanings could be injustice, retribution, dishonesty, corruption, dishonesty, unfairness, and avoiding accountability.” The technical analyst interpreted. 

“Lastly, the reversed Emperor.” JJ said the final card they had. 

“The Emperor reversed is a sign of abused authoritative power. In your social life, it can manifest in the overreach of power from a father figure or a possessive partner.” Penelope described the final tarot card.

With all the information in their heads, the BAU members felt puzzled about how to move forward. 

“How are these cards related to the crime scenes?” Derek asked. 

“It’s like a performance,” Penelope chimed in. Everyone turned their heads to listen to the cheery woman on the phone. “Like there is a story behind these killings. The cards are telling how the unsub is feeling. She wants us to know her story.” Everyone stood in shock when Penelope made a breakthrough in the case.

“Wait, Garcia. You said ‘she’. Why do you think it is a woman?” Hotch asked.

“Well, sir. The first victim was drowned, with no signs of sexual assault on his body. Doesn’t that usually indicate that the unsub is a woman?”

“Not necessarily but it is a quiet and efficient way of murdering someone.” Hotch explained. 

“Female serial killers are a fascinating field. We don’t have much information on them. But what we do know involves throwing the riles completely out of the window,” Spencer started going on one of his rambles. “For example, female serial killers typically don’t leave a signature.”

“But this one leaves tarot cards at the scene.” Derek pointed out.

“Maybe it was what Garcia said: she’s telling us her story.” JJ said. “Alright. Let’s start from the beginning. What could be inferenced from her childhood?” Hotch asked. 

“She could have had a domineering father who worked on Wall Street. And with that dynamic, he could have sexually and emotionally abused her, making her feeling like damaged goods.” Spencer explained the backstory of the unsub. “Also because the victims cheated on their wives, we could also conclude that the father also cheated on the mother, who always forgave her husband and tried to rationalize to stay for her daughter. And that made the unsub feel rage and being inferior. That she didn’t do anything to help her mother and herself.”

“But there is no indication of sexual gratification.” Hotch interjected. 

“However, there’s a reason why there are so many lacerations on the later victims. It could be the rage from her abusive father that this unsub is using against the victims, who acted like surrogates.” Derek said. 

“The stressor?” Hotch asked. 

“To follow her father’s footsteps, she may have also worked in the financial field. As a stockbroker, a financial analyst, or even as a secretary for a company,” Spencer said. “And as she continued at her job, she had a bunch of little comments and slights against her”

“As for the trigger, maybe she got passed up for a promotion by a male co-worker who was less qualified than she was.” JJ explained. 

“Any sane person would get miffed about it, but she’s built differently,” Derek said. 

“So much so, she killed five men so far.” Hotch said. 

“And she did it in an efficient manner where no one had any idea until now,” Derek said right after the unit chief. “But how did one woman kill five men in one borough and disposed of them in another?”

“She must know the area like the back of her hand. Brooklyn is what? Around 72 square miles?” JJ said in response to Derek. 

“Uh, 69.5.” Spencer corrected JJ. The blonde sighed, not surprised that the boy genius would know the exact measurement. 

“And the fact that no one has seen her either abduct or dispose of says she knows the city and its patterns well.” Derek said to continue what JJ had said before she was cut off by the boy genius. Just then, both Rossi and Emily had returned from the latest crime scene. In Emily’s hands were coffee cups on cardboard trays while Rossi had Chinese takeout. Everyone shared the food as they continued to work on the case. Being the little tease he was, Derek flung a wonton piece at Spencer, who was struggling to eat with the wooden chopsticks. The wonton piece gently hit Spencer’s forehead and the boy genius pouted, hiding his frustration at both the chopsticks and Derek.

“The M.E. said that the cuts were clean, no serrated edges. It would have to be a very sharp knife to be able to cut through human skin like nothing.” Emily said, to drive the discussion about the M.O.

“A knife like that could get the job done efficiently. Could be the work of a throwing knife. Take out the victim with a single throw to have them die quickly, then she stabs them to feel something.” Derek said. 

“Throwing knives? What is she? A secret agent of the Dai Li?” Rossi joked sarcastically. 

“From Avatar the Last Airbender?” Hotch retorted, remembering that his son Jack watches that show on Saturday mornings. 

“What’s Avatar the Last Airbender?” Spencer asked. Nobody bothered to answer the young man’s question. 

 “But this one is different. It’s like the more she kills, the more anger builds up inside and it gets released on the victim when she goes back in.” JJ stated. 

It became silent in the conference room, quite the opposite to the noise of the New York precinct in the evening rush hour. Tired from both traveling and working, Hotch could see that the rest of his team was also exhausted from the day. The unit chief called everyone to head to the hotel and rest, as they can always come back to the precinct tomorrow morning. 

Slowly one by one, each of the agents packed their things and get out of the New York precinct, and hopped into the cars, praying the soft hotel beds would lull them into a deep slumber.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Day Three at the New York precinct. All the BAU members were getting irritated that they hadn’t proceeded much on the case. Derek tossed a small basketball up and down to pass the time. Spencer twirled a pen as he stared at the geographical profile, the gears turning in his mind. Both Hotch and Rossi were discussing the case quietly while JJ and Emily doodled on each others’ arms. The blonde was innocently drawing hearts and flowers until Emily came up with an idea. Feeling a tad mischievous, Emily took her sharpie marker and started to outline something on the media liaison’s left forearm. JJ raised an eyebrow, questioning what her co-worker was doing. As the image came together, JJ gasped softly, however, not surprised that Emily drew a vagina. 

Emily quietly laughed as JJ, annoyed by the brunette’s actions, took her sharpie marker and tried her best to transform the vagina drawing into a flower. Taking her time, and with only a sharpie, JJ showed off her artistic talent by creating a masterpiece: a carnation blooming out of a vagina.

Emily rolled her eyes when JJ stuck out her tongue at the brunette. Taking Emily’s right arm, the media liaison started to outline a grid for a game of tic tac toe. The brunette started the game by marking an “x” in a spot and JJ took her turn. The two women continued their game of tic tac toe and 

Everyone was silent in their own world until Hotch’s phone rang. The unit chief picked it up and it was a number he couldn’t recognize. Hotch silently motioned Derek to call Penelope to start triangulating the call’s location. 

“Hotchner.”

“Hello, Aaron.” A sultry voice talked. On the other side of the call was the unsub, Taylor Evans. 

“Seems you know my name.” Hotch asked.

“I researched you in preparation for this phone call,” Evans said. Through the phone receiver, Hotch could hear the soft whooshes of pages turning. 

“You reading a book? What’s the title?”

“Le monde comme il va by Voltaire,” Taylor closed her book. “Have you read his work?”

“No, I haven’t. You seem highly educated.” Hotch stated. 

“You seem to know a lot about me.” Taylor retorted.

“But I don’t know you that well since the start of this phone call.” Hotch responded. 

“What would you like to know?” Taylor asked. 

“May I know your name, for starters?” Hotch asked. A cold laugh could be heard through the landline speaker. 

“Evans. Taylor Evans.” the unsub replied. 

“Nice name,” Hotch complimented her to bring her guard down. 

“Now that we are acquainted, you can ask me questions.” the unsub’s content sigh could be heard on the landline. 

“Has life been hard on you?” Taylor asked, wanting to jump the gun. 

“I try my best.”

“Try my best,” Taylor said mockingly. “Is that the best you can do for your family?” A sarcastic tone filled Taylor’s voice, not liking what the unit chief said in response to her question. 

“With what I’ve got.” Hotch said. 

“You got any children?” Taylor said to divert the conversation. 

“I have a son.”

“How often do you see him?” 

“I try to see him every week.”

“Do you see him every week?” Taylor tried to put Hotch under pressure, to get him to crack. 

“No, I don't get there as often as I want.” A pitiful sigh was heard on the phone.

“I believe you, but don’t compare yourself to the men I see and work with. You are nothing like them. You’re just another whore.” Taylor said with such disgust in her tone. 

“How am I a whore?” Hotch asked. 

“You come when called on short notice. Begging to be put to work. Saving your reputation. However, even though you’re a workaholic, you make the time to see your son. You care for your son. You want the best for him.” Taylor explained. 

“You’re right. I do want the best for him” Hotch said. The unsub sighed, wishing that she had a good man, like Hotch, for a father.  

“Enough about you. What do you have to say about me?” Taylor asked the unit chief. 

“You've been betrayed so many times, You don't know who to trust, And that's why that first murder felt so good. But each one since has been less and less satisfying.” Hotch explained. 

“Good deductive reasoning,” Taylor said. “But how do you know if what I find provides me less satisfaction each time?”

“It’s a part of your nature. Until you hit a psychotic break and start devolving.” Hotch said. 

“Hm. Want to find out, Agent Hotchner?” She hung up on him after that last sentence. Everyone in the conference room stayed silent in awe. The unsub injecting herself into the investigation surprised all the agents in the room. 

“She contacted us,” Spencer said in astonishment, breaking the silence. 

“She’s getting impatient. Have Garcia look up everything on Taylor Evans. We need to find if she lines up with the preliminary profile.” Hotch instructed Derek. The olive brown-skinned man did exactly what the unit chief said: call Penelope and extract as much information as possible on the potential unsub.

“Her use of the word whore is interesting,” Spencer quipped. “It suggests she's trying to disassociate herself from her actions.”

“But she's become more personal with the murders,” Emily said. “This doesn’t make sense. She is contradicting herself.”

After gathering the information, and debilitating on the facts, everyone came to the same conclusion: Taylor Evans was their unsub. 

“Reid, tell Detective Miller that it’s time to deliver the profile.” Rossi said. 

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Every law enforcement officer occupied the main space of the precinct. All of the BAU members stood at one side, making it like a stage. JJ stood beside Emily, thinking to herself that she could have been this girl in a way. Both her and the unsub look eerily similar, maybe even mistaken for each other. 

“We wanted to give out the profile as soon as possible. We’re looking for a white female, between the ages of 20 and 25,” Hotch said to start the profile. “Her name is Taylor Evans. Dirty blonde hair with grey eyes. She’s organized, methodical, and knows how to blend in with the crowd.”

“When this unsub kills, she does so mercilessly and without an ounce of pity. She also wants her victims to know they are going to die by her hand.” Rossi said. 

“That’s why her preferred weapon of choice is throwing knives. They provide a clean cut. No mess required.” Emily said, slowly rocking on her heels. 

“With her choice of weapon, she can be quick and efficient with her kills, as murder is her only goal,” Spencer paused to catch a breath. “But all the bottled-up rage gets released when she goes in for a second time, post mortem, and stabs the body multiple times.”

“It is a way for her to get sexual gratification. And revenge, from her years of being emotionally and sexually abused by her father,” Rossi said. “The victims fit the description of her father and they are surrogates for him.”

“She is also a textbook psychopath, exhibiting all of the classic traits: incapability of feeling any empathy towards others, neither guilt nor remorse, and claiming no responsibility for her actions. Like others of her type, she is highly intelligent, manipulative, and narcissistic.” Spencer explained the unsub’s pathology. 

“Evans had received higher education. She graduated with a business degree, most likely a subconscious influence from her father. With the business acumen and the social skillset, this unsub can easily blend in with all the other business people and manipulate them.” Hotch explained, walked slowly around the large room. 

“Based on her background, she came from a wealthy family. However, the family wasn’t perfect. Her father constantly cheated on his wife. The mother always forgave him. As a young girl, Evans most likely has experienced emotional and sexual abuse from her father. It was a way for him to control his daughter, and she had resented that for years.” Emily said about the unsub’s childhood. 

“She mostly has experienced misogyny in her professional life. Had little comments and slights against her. Perhaps a less qualified male co-worker took a promotion that she deemed herself to be of a better fit,” Derek explained about the stressor. “Something in her work life triggered her to start killing the men who represented her father.”

“With this profile, we should search for Taylor Evans’ location and any potential victims. We suggest going public with the information as soon as possible… Thank you very much.” Hotch ended the profile with his parting words. Everyone at the precinct was disbursed from the room to get back to their work. The agents huddled together to prep themselves in case something big were to happen. 

“JJ, I would like for you to conduct a press conference,” Hotch said.

“Why is that, sir?” The media liaison asked. 

“I would like to draw her out. Have it known that we are after her.” The media liaison nodded her head in agreement and left the main room to work on getting a press conference together.

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Before entering the press room, JJ took a deep breath and exhaled to calm herself down. Thoughts were rushing in her mind. Don’t let them get to you, JJ. She neatly fixed her hair to seem presentable. Taking her golden heart necklace, the media liaison kissed it for good luck. 

The media liaison walked into the conference room with great confidence and stood behind the mahogany podium. Standing tall, JJ was not willing to lose a fight with the media, especially with a high-profile case. 

“Ok, can I have everyone's attention,” JJ said to gather the media’s attention to her. “Please, if you could just take your seats…”

“There have been a series of murders that appeared in random locations around Brooklyn. There is sufficient evidence that the victims were murdered on Wall Street then transported to their disposal sites.”

“We believe she may have experienced a psychotic break recently, causing the unsub to escalate to murder to regain a sense of control. You should increase your patrols in and around Wall Street… “

“Why would you focus your profile on the finance guys when the unsub has also contacted members of the FBI?” A male reporter interrupted the media liaison.  

JJ stood at the podium in shock. How could he know about that? We kept that under wraps. 

“I- How did you obtain that information?” JJ asked. 

“I overheard one of the cops saying it.” The journalist said casually. The blonde’s right eyebrow lightly twitched in anger. What couldn’t those cops just shut their mouths, JJ thought.

“What you heard from these officers isn’t true,” JJ lied to keep confidential information private. “Now, do you have any questions about the case?” A new wave of hands came up. JJ took a few more questions to answer. After a while, it was time to end the press conference.

“If anyone works in or around Wall Street, and sees anything unusual, please do not hesitate to call the number on your screen. Thank you.” JJ said her final statement, ending the press conference. As she walked down the steps down the small stage, a reporter called out her name.   

“Agent Jareau! I have something that may be of interest for you!” A different male reporter called out. JJ turned to face him, excepting the same male reporter from earlier. Trying to keep her anger inside, she greeted the news reporter with dignity. 

The male reporter handed the media liaison a letter. JJ took a look at it and was surprised at what she saw: the signature of their unsub. 

“How did you get this?” JJ asked the man. 

“It was sent to me yesterday, directly to the New York Herald.” The man said. JJ called for one of the officers by the wall to collect the letter for evidence. 

“We are going to take this in for evidence processing. One of the officers here will take you in for some questioning.” The man nodded as another officer whisked him away for interrogation. 

JJ sighed and went to search for the officer that unknowingly leaked information. She saw him with another cop, talking, against the wall outside of the press conference room. 

“That information was not for the public!” JJ said, angrily at an NYPD officer. 

“Listen, lady. I don’t know how and where he got the information from,” The beat cop explained himself. “He could have been creeping around the crime scenes or the precinct. 

“Keep your mouth shut, pal, as this case is private and under federal jurisdiction.” JJ huffed as Derek grabbed her shoulders and slowly tried to drag her away. The blonde complied with her co-worker, not throwing a fight as this was not her battle to fight in. 

Once Derek loosened his grips, the media liaison dashed out of the conference room to find her own space to calm down. 

JJ speed-walked once she was out of the hallway’s vicinity. She rushed into the nearest bathroom. Breathing heavily, the media liaison slowly walked into one of the stalls and locked the door. Taking a deep breath, JJ prepared herself for the biggest scream she would take in her life. 

“Fuck. These little shits. Those bastards. Assholes. Son of a bitch. Fucking shit. Why can’t they keep their mouths fucking shut! Those cocksucking motherfucking god damned jackasses!” JJ yelled at the top of her lungs. Her chest fell hard as the blonde was taking deep breaths. She felt better after taking out her anger by screaming. Feeling a little tired, JJ sat on the closed toilet and placed her head between her knees to calm herself down. A few minutes went by, and someone knocked on the bathroom door. 

“JJ… Are you okay?” Emily’s voice could be heard on the other side. JJ sighed while getting up. She opened the stall door and tried to make herself more presentable. Unlocking the silver lock, she opened the door slowly to reveal a relieved Emily Prentiss. 

“Ah–,” Emily gently grabbed JJ and brought her in a warm embrace. They stood together in that position for a few minutes before heading back to the conference room, where the others were, preparing themselves to capture the unsub tonight.

Later that evening, the BAU team, along with SWAT, raided a luxury apartment building in Downtown Brooklyn. Upon entering the only penthouse, Derek broke the door with his strength. The group of agents entered the area and in the middle of the living room, was Taylor Evans. Black mascara ran down her cheeks as she held a gun in her left hand and the final tarot card in the other. 

“Just in time for the show, agents.” Evans croaked. Her sad grey eyes filled with tears, her cheeks flushed from her mental breakdown. 

“Taylor… Listen. You’re young. You don’t have to do this. If you come with us, you can get a lighter sentence and live your life.” Emily said to calm down the broken girl. 

More time passed by as Emily and Spencer tried their best to negotiate with the unsub, but the end was already written. Taylor Evans planned to do an end game, one where she put herself out of misery. 

“I’m sorry….” the blonde girl whispered. In a swift motion, Taylor pulled the trigger onto herself and shot herself underneath the jaw. Her body dropped quickly but Derek ran up to the body to catch it. 

“Damn it,” Derek said. “She was young. Broken. Felt like she had to prove herself that she was something.”

“There was nothing we could have done to help, Morgan. She already had planned her end. She was long gone before anyone else could have noticed.” Hotch responded to Derek’s little monologue. 

Right next to her body was the Emperor card. A beautiful deep purple with gold lining depicting an emperor. The gold detailing reflected against the tall mirrors in the room. The card was reversed, like if she purposefully did that to tell the end to her story. 

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