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aiekerman · 4 years

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Medicine - Levi Ackerman

Levi x Reader - fluff

AN: I am not usually a Valentine’s person but here we are. Levi can really get anything out of me. Also, I realise my fic titles seem a little random but I’m titling them after songs that make the vibe in my head - not necessarily based off, just vibes you know. So yeah this is Medicine by The 1975.

Word count: 1.9k

Summary: It’s Valentine’s day and you’re in work at a café all day. But Levi is there to at least provide some eye candy.

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‘He’s so pretty I might pass out,’ Hitch leant over the counter, her chin in her hand as she unabashedly stares across the café at the man sipping at his tea.

His posture is perfect, balancing a book in one hand while his other holds the top of the tea cup delicately to his mouth. He blends into the café atmosphere like he was there upon its creation. The shop is earth toned, plants hanging all over and soft lighting that cast shadows across his bone structure.

He looked pulled straight out of an indie movie.

The air around him was mysterious yet all consuming, You spent the entire shift stealing glances at him every time he was in. Which was most days. However, Sunday’s took the cake, you assumed he didn’t work on Sundays whatever his job was, as he took the luxury of bringing a book in and spending hours planted at the same table. Working through a multitude of tea as he sat in perfect view to act as eye candy for the baristas for the day.

You steal a last glance at him, while restocking the pastry baskets, internally agreeing with Hitch but turning to her and speaking, ‘Is he worth getting yelled at for not doing anything when a manager sees you?’

Hitch gives her an eye roll before standing up as a customer approaches the counter.

In your own head, you silently think that, yes, he absolutely was worth getting yelled at.

Across the café floor, Levi glances from over the top of his cup when he feels a pair of eyes darting in his direction once again. He took a self indulgent moment to look over you as you gently placed the warm croissants in one of the wicker baskets. From your well-loved sneakers that he presumed to be pair reserved for work, up to your head of hair that bounced and swayed along with your steps.

He was a man who found the joy in life through small moments. His first sip of tea in the morning. Running his hand through his hair once it was freshly washed. Spending his Sunday in the café that was an extra few blocks from his apartment so he could steal glances at the beautiful barista. He could never bring himself to properly talk to you though, that would make it the exact opposite of a small moment.

* * * * * * * * *

You enjoyed Valentine’s day. Your day had started with a card arriving from your parents and your friend back home sending a text message thanking her for flowers that you had booked to be delivered.

When you reached the café for the usual Sunday shift you were met by heart shaped bunting criss-crossing around the whole ceiling.

You settled in behind the counter. It was still early, an orange tint hanging on the edges of the sky. And Sunday mornings were quieter than most, people taking their time to get out of bed. You imagined especially on Valentine’s day, couples would spend the early hours wrapped up in their ‘i love you’s and gift giving. Many opting for breakfast in bed rather than a café trip. You sighed at the dreamy thought.

You were single, and happily so. But you were allowed to indulge in the scenario of a coffee and pancakes being brought to you while you awoke slowly.

Were the pancakes accompanied by steel grey eyes and an undercut from time to time? You could neither confirm nor deny.

Still stuck in your daydreams, you hadn’t noticed that exact pair of grey eyes entering the café and approaching the counter.

He took a moment to look you over while it seemed your head was somewhere else. Your hair sat neater than usual, extra makeup seemed to have been applied; your cheeks more rosy than usual. A pink sweater draped around your figure and Levi swore he could smell the fresh laundry scent wafting from it.

His heart deflated slightly. You probably had a Valentine’s date. He scoffed at himself in his own head. Of course you did, one look at you screamed that you were bound to have people flooding your phone. He chose to ignore any time he noticed a customer flirting with you, but it definitely happened.

You leap when Levi lets off a small cough to catch your attention. Your face immediately blaring with heat as you search for words in your head. You often found herself flustered when it came to serving the stoic faced man.

‘Hi.’

‘Hey’

‘What, uh, what can I get you?’

‘Are you okay?’

‘Yes. Yes! I’m fine thank you for asking. Ignore my last question by the way I know- uh, I know it’s tea.’

You cut yourself off from rambling. Giving a small nod and beginning to tap on the register screen in front of you, putting through his usual pot of black tea.

You stare at the screen with an unnecessary intensity, trying to focus on the words and wipe the image of Levi delivering your breakfast from her mind. An irrational fear that maybe he was secretly a mind reader brewed in the back of your head. It would explain his constant blank slate of a face, he was constantly processing other’s thoughts.

What was actually running through Levi’s head was how pretty you looked in the glow of the morning sun, your face tinted pink in nervousness.

He only slightly fought off a small smile when you beamed up at him with your sweet voice, ‘I’ll bring it over once it’s ready.’

Levi spent the rest of the morning watching you dart around with drinks and dishes. You did most Sunday mornings solo, smiling at usual customers, rhyming off your catalogue of memorised drinks. Levi felt like a dark cloud hanging over the café, dressed in dark colours in the corner and avoiding conversation. While you were a bright ball of sunshine that seemed to honestly just want to make others smile.

The thought of actually talking to you had his tea cup trembling in his hand.

And so he buried his head deeper into his book, settling for hearing your sweet laugh float around the shop.

You sighed, what was originally a five hour shift extended to ten after Hitch called you begging to cover her half of the day, a last minute Valentine date cropping up or something. And who were you to deny the girl some romance?

Your eyes drifted around the shop, it was now three thirty pm, only an hour and half until it was time to shut. The day had mostly been couples wandering through to pick up a takeaway drink in the midst of a romantic stroll. It was hard to resist a wistful look after them as they huddled together in the February chill.

You shook your head from the thought and continued to restock the muffins, even though it would be unlikely that all would be sold before closing came around.

Standing up your head automatically took a turn in Levi’s direction, this was usually the time he would be due a tea top-up. And on cue he set down his empty cup and glanced up at you.

Two pairs of eyes met and you struggled to fight off the heat rising up your neck under his intense stare. His mouth drops open slightly, barely noticeable from the distance between them.

But you notice, the half inch that his shoulders tense up. The miniscule shake of his book. Your throat is suddenly dry, but manages to croak out, ‘more?’

‘Yes, please,’ the words come almost as a sigh. You hold the electric gaze for another second, before scurrying behind the counter, busying your mind with making up the pot of tea.

You drop it to him wordlessly. Keeping your head down, adrenaline still pumping through you from the previous moment.

The last hour and a half of service passes by easily. You avoid any of your usual indulgent looks at the man in the corner of the café, while you begin closing up.

Levi knows he has to go, he’s closed over his book already, one hand on his jacket that’s been draped over his chair all day.

But he can’t just go. His assumption from the morning has proven wrong - at least so far. You don't seem to have a Valentine’s date. And after your...whatever that was, he’s not about to just leave without so much as a hello.

You stood on the small step ladder, fingers nimbly unpinning the heart shaped decorations when his voice pulled you from your thoughts.

‘Um, thanks for your service today.’ Levi cringes. He swears he sounds like a robot.

‘Oh,’ Kasia stares down at him from atop the ladder, ‘thank you.’

Levi swallows. It’s a start.

‘You don’t usually work this late. On a Sunday.’

‘One of the other girls asked if I could cover her. She got a last minute Valentine date.’

You’ve descended the steps now, standing only a metre away from him. You look him over,

His hands are stuffed deep in his pockets, book tucked tightly under his arm. His usual sleek black hair is slightly messed. You didn’t know but he’d spent the last ten minutes tugging at as he tried to find the right conversation starter.

‘You don’t- uh, you don’t have a date?’

You shake your head softly, a small smile beginning to form across your lips.

‘What about you? Don’t you have a girlfriend you should’ve been with all day?’

‘Do you think if I had a girlfriend I’d be here all day every Sunday?’ He lets out a laugh that could be mistaken for a cough.

‘Oh. I just thought…’

‘Thought what?’

‘I don’t know actually. You’re just, uh…’ you stutter, the phrase you’re just so pretty, balancing on the edge of your tongue. ‘What?’ Levi cringes again, his voice coming out harsher than intended, but he freezes up at the quiet words that escape your mouth.

‘Just really pretty.’

They’re barely a whisper, he thinks he could almost be making it up. His subconscious is dreaming up what he wants to hear. But upon looking up at your face, there’s a fear evident in your eyes. As if the words hadn’t meant to escape.

You next words have more energy behind, ‘I am so sorry. That was so inappropriate.’

‘It’s fine, really. You’re, um, also really pretty.’

You swear if your face could get any hotter it’d melt the chocolate in the cookies. Voice immediately fades away again, ‘thank you.’

‘So is it uhh, just you closing up?’

‘Yeah. Just me.’

‘Do you mind if I wait for you? To walk you home? It’ll be too dark to walk alone by the time you’re finished.’

This time you can’t fight the smile as it consumes your whole face, ‘I’d like that.’

His hand reaches out suddenly and a thumb swipes against your cheek.

His eyes go wide upon realising what he did, ‘you had some chocolate. On your cheek.’

You try to respond. But all you can feel is the tingling left over from his touch. And how you wanna feel it again.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi imagine #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman fic #levi fluff #levi fanfiction #aot x reader #aot imagines #snk x reader #snk imagines

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reidecorating · 4 years

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Like Ivy

Request: “Being able to see you smile, being in your vicinity, just that is enough for me.” and “Uh, here, this is for, uh, you.” I’m thinking something Christmas-y with Reid - Anon

A/N: I do apologise for procrastinating on getting this out, but I wanted to make sure it wasn’t terrible. Merry Christmas to all of you who celebrate it, my present to you is the longest fic I have ever written. I had so much fun writing it so I hope you guys enjoy reading it! Happy holidays <3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAUFem!Reader

Word Count: 7.7k

Summary: Best friends yearning & best friends pining - but make it festive. Entails Secret Santa, the classic penny behind the ear and waltzing.

Warnings: Fluff, proceed with caution :)

The Cathedral of Santa Maria. Spencer had finally put his finger on it. The small glass dome encasing a building, with doors small enough to allow entrance to ladybugs who may practice religion, adorned unmistakable timely Italian architecture and ornamented pine trees, all dusted with flitters of snow. For the past week, Spencer had caught sight of the trinket each time he wandered past where it sat, as one of the few other decorations surrounding the name plate displaying in gold Times New Roman ‘DAVID ROSSI’, on the often unoccupied desk. So, he gathered that it must be important. Filing away his final stack of paperwork for the night, a silver paperclip glistening in the artificial light, Spencer made a mental note to ask the man about it the next morning. Standing from his usual office chair slouch, he stretched his limbs, feeling a series of clicks in his back as he regained his posture, only to bend back down in reach of his satchel. He made his way home giving tight lipped smiles of encouragement to the few agents sprinkled about the room, working over time. Haphazardly, he pushed the arrow pointing downwards with a cardigan clad elbow. As if on queue, his phone buzzed to the simultaneous ‘ding’ of the lift.

I understand you’re nocturnal, but I hope you’ve gotten home by now! If not, text me when you do so, safely :)

He didn’t realise he was grinning from ear to ear until an aggravated looking bureau member from a floor above, evidently itching to get home, cleared his throat to gain Spencer’s attention. “Sorry,” he grimaced. Noticing the button for the ground floor having already been lit up, Spencer stepped inside and stood as far away, as was possible in the small space, from the rankled looking man and his briefcase. A dimple appeared on his cheek as he remembered you, two years, three months and seventeen days ago - not that he was counting - offering him cherry scented hand sanitiser from a small bottle, and, only after he’d nodded, gently grasping the tips of his fingers to steady his shaking hand as you poured the gelid liquid into his palm. The act was so pure he chose against telling you that while alcohol based hand sanitisers reduce the number of microbes on hands in some situations, they don’t eliminate all types of germs - making soap and water the most effective way to go. Since then, you occupied his thoughts in the same way ivy grew along bricks of long forgotten towers. In abundance, in the most beautiful way. He turned his attention back to the tiny mobile he was holding.

On my way right now. I have a date with microwaved leftovers at midnight, can’t miss it. Will do.

The next time his phone buzzed was when he’d dozed off on the way home, using the concave pane of a metro window as a shoulder to lean against. He waited until his feet landed on the uneven pavement of his stop to open it.

Tomorrow you have a date with a properly cooked meal, at mine. What is it that Hotch always says? That’s an order, not a request.

Spencer’s heartbeat quickened as he read what you had written, his brain immediately carrying variables in an effort to slow it down by convincing himself that friends make each other feel this way. However, when he counted the rose flush on his cheeks and nose whenever you were around, the looks you shared which said more than words ever could and the way you held each other nearer than the distance between the sky and the ocean where they met at the horizon after close calls and mentally grappling cases, it didn’t quite equate to being just friends. Dwindling leaves clinging to their branches shuddered as scissors of winter wind pruned the trees scattered about. Spencer’s pale hands slid into his coat pockets, hiding from frostbite. On the short walk to his apartment, he admired the twinkling lights on either side of the streets, feeling as if he were a plane which had just landed upon a runway in the night. Candy canes, reindeer and eccentric portrayals of Santa Claus glowed amongst bushes and on porches, making Spencer wish you were there to see them too. It wasn’t rare he found himself wanting to share everything he did with you. Pretty things made him think of you. Eventually reaching the familiar building, tiredly, he followed wreaths and holly all the way to his undecorated apartment door.

You? Cooking? I’ll bring a fire extinguisher. Home safe. Goodnight, sleep well.

He kept his promise, despite seeing the time was nearing to one in the morning and being doubtful you were still awake.

Hilarious :/ and I will, knowing you’re alive. Goodnight Spencer :)

Spencer coveted for nights when he could tell you goodnight from right beside you, perhaps with his hand draped around your waist while yours tugged at his hair. He wanted to fall asleep to the scent of your skin and whatever soap you’d picked up from the store that week, not the quiet hum of his vintage fan. His microwave beeped, acting as an alarm to return down to earth from the clouds, presenting him with far less than gourmet potatoes. Realising he would take your burnt cooking over this any day, he settled for a sandwich.

∗∗∗

“Did you know that snowglobes were invented in France. They were first introduced as ‘water globes’ at the Paris Expedition Fair in 1889, and, to no surprise, the first snow globe actually contained a tiny scaled Eiffel Tower covered in snow,” Spencer lectured, almost putting the two agents who had struggled enough to get out of bed, back to sleep. The days were slow. Annual leave for a majority of the bureau was looming nearer and files kept them busy as the jet gathered dust. “Glad to hear the French contributed something, other than their opprobrium of a language, to this world,” Emily complained, from her desk. “Well, baguettes… Croissants, parachutes… Aspirin-“ Spencer was halted by the unimpressed look on Rossi’s face, as he hovered on the edge of Spencer’s table, a bushy eyebrow raised in vexation. “What’s with all this talk of snowglobes, kid?” The older man squinted at Spencer, craning his neck towards this, the way he did to suspects behind the glass of an interrogation room. “Since you brought it up,” he smiled smugly, swivelling in his chair from one side to another. “What’s the story behind the Santa Maria sitting on your desk?”

“Yeah, the eighties have come and gone, Rossi, isn’t it a bit late for repentance?” Emily let out a sly smile, walking over to also lean against Spencer’s desk with a steaming mug in hand. “It was a gift from my grandmother, handmade, I take it out every Christmas to help get in the festive mood,” Rossi explained. “Also, that was very funny Emily but now… I can’t help but recall what Garcia told me about the time you got a little tipsy and licked peanut butter off J-”

“No one told me it was National Congregate Around Spencer Reid’s Desk Day today.” The three agents turned their heads in unison to find who the voice belonged to, Spencer’s breath hitching at the sight of you. You stood before them, an upturned magician’s hat in hand, semi-curious as to what the ending of Rossi’s sentence would have been if it weren’t for you interrupting. “Y/N!” Emily waved, flashing a smile. “You’ve taken an interest in magic and didn’t even think to tell me,” Spencer feigned a hurt look. “Spencer, I knew magic wasn’t for me after I did the card trick you taught me, wrong . Six times,”

“It was seven. Plus, the student is never as good as the teacher,” he suppressed a smile. “Or maybe the teacher just isn’t good,” you raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s a little hostile, someone didn’t get enough sleep last night,” Spencer defended himself, putting his hands in the air. His eyes held a glimmer of mischief as if to say ‘we know something that you don’t’ when they met yours. Emily’s jaw dropped. “That… Didn’t sound suggestive at all,” Rossi pursed his lips in concern, looking back and forth between the pair of furiously blushing agents. “Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t,” you winked at Rossi. Basking in the radiance of your laughter washing over him like the sun, Spencer chuckled along. “Anyway, what’s with the hat?” Emily questioned. “This,” you shook it by its brim, “contains the remaining names for this year’s Secret Santa, courtesy of Miss Penelope Garcia. I was just ordered to present it to you all. She calls it being her ‘little elf’ - I call it unpaid manual labour - but pick a name, any name,” you encouraged. You watched as Spencer’s tongue comically poked out as he eagerly concentrated on picking a name, elbow bent at a worrying angle. “I just want to say that every time I get a gift that isn’t alcohol, I’m slightly disappointed,” Emily turned to you as it was her turn to fish for a piece of paper. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you grinned at her. You watched Rossi’s expression as his eyes skimmed the name in his hands. “Oh, and Rossi, yes, there’s a budget,” you called over your shoulder, causing them to laugh as you gave them a wave. Slinking away from the comity of the bullpen, back to Mrs Claus’ lair, you retrieved the only remaining name. You paused in the hallway to double check if you’d read the glittery scrawl correctly. Spencer Reid. It was just your luck. You were prepared to engage in hand to hand combat with Garcia, seeing her office looming ahead. “Penelope. I hate you. I love you,” you kissed her cheek, placing the top hat on her curls, “but I hate you.” She recognised the tone, beaming at the implications. “Thank me later, beautiful!” She called after you as you rushed away to get started on completing the mountains of reports you had been avoiding thus far.

The day had come to a close, a headache making a home for itself in your head. Scanning the, now, mostly empty room, you caught sight of the back of Spencer’s uncombed head. Double checking that not enough people were around to be reprimanded by HR for misconduct, you inconspicuously made your way over to him snaking your arms around his neck and burrowing your nose in its crook. “Hi,” he chuckled, amused at the sudden affection, his unoccupied hand immediately reaching to grasp one of your wrists. Spencer had followed your strict, but coffee induced, orders earlier that morning telling him not to distract you unless, one, he was dying, or two, something was on fire, because you were determined to finish the numerous write-ups you had left until today. “Hi,” you mumbled into him. “Ready to go home?” You asked sweetly, arms still slung around him, pulling your face away to get a glimpse of his soft features. Your heart stopped for a little while, at the beauty of him. He was breathtaking. You refrained from tracing the small bump of his nose with your own, and settled for admiring the five o’clock shadow presaging a hidden jaw. The part of Spencer that craved domesticity was enchanted by your simple question, the word home resounding in his head, acting as an old film reel for projections of images of the two of you together; leaving work together, going home together. Little did he know that, as if through an unnoticed telepathy, just a few inches away, the same images occupied your own head. Coming home to an empty apartment had become tedious. You allowed yourself to give into your daydreams of returning home to Spencer - with Spencer. Spencer, with his warm eyes and words that drip like syrup from his tongue. You wanted nothing more than to revel in him filling your senses once the cologne from the day had been washed away, and hear him harp on about the history of mattresses, attempting to retain questions to ask him later in your memory bank, as you capitulate to sleep. “As a matter of fact, I finished most of what I had to do last night so I am ready to go… home,” he tested out the word, to which you had assigned a brand new connotation, feeling a flutter in his chest. You quickly rescinded your arms as you peripherally detected a flock of agents returning from what you assumed was an afternoon break. Spencer suddenly missed your body on his. Having already packed your things, feeling accomplished noticing that the pile of folders on your desk had shrunk significantly, you packed Spencer’s things to save him time, aimlessly throwing the strap of his satchel over his head for him once he had ungracefully shoved his arms into a blazer. “Hang on,” you gently pulled at his shoulders to meet your height, carefully fixing his tag and creased collar. The blush on his face, at the feel of your cold fingers brushing the nape of his neck, said everything he didn’t - save a meek, “Thank you.” You smiled at him in return. “Wait,” his eyes widened, “I need this,” he mumbled, reaching into the bottom drawer of his desk, pulling out a large black bag, decorated in gold intricacies. He didn’t explain it, but you knew that if Spencer had something to say, he would come out and say it, just all in good time. “Now are you ready?” You eyed the thing curiously, and glanced back at him. “Let’s go,” he motioned his arms in front of him, with a small nod, letting you lead the way.

Afternoon rays of sun fought their way through clouds, battling with the winter air to warm the people mingling outside as you made your way towards the crowded station. “Penny for your thoughts?” You asked, intuitively slipping an arm through his when the sun began to disappear altogether. Your cheeks grew warm as you realised your compromising position, feeling your heart rate return to its usual pace once he relaxed into your touch. “Hm?” He turned to look at you, letting his river coloured eyes unabashedly scan your face. “You look like your mind is far away,”

“What’s on my mind is definitely not very far away,” he said, quietly. That glimmer had returned. You noticed that the crease between his brows had disappeared, indicative that whatever thoughts were rattling through his brain, were good ones. You hummed a smile, content with his contentedness. “So… Hand it over,” he extended a palm a second later. “Hand what over?” You asked, genuinely confused. “A penny,” he said as if it was obvious. You blinked up at him, unfazed by the joke, as he bit his lip provokingly. All of a sudden he stopped walking, eyes still on you. “Just… Hold on a moment,” he whispered, squinting at you as he reached a hand towards your cheek. You remained still, thinking that Spencer had finally lost his mind. “Here it is!” He exclaimed, breaking out into a smile as he retrieved a one cent coin from behind your ear. “What!? You’re kidding! That was brilliant,” you beamed at him, eyes wide in bewilderment. “For a second there I thought you had gone crazy,” you teased. “Magic does that to people,” he nodded, satisfied with how impressed you seemed. “Ah, but alas, you gave me a very ambiguous answer, so I,” you snatched the penny from his fingers, “am entitled to a refund.” Spencer shook his head with a soft smile. “You might need to use that for the bus if we miss the next train,” he informed, hurriedly examining the watch on his upturned wrist.

No trains were missed, that day, the two of you arriving at your door in time for the six o’clock news. “Here, let me take your coat,” you offered, putting it on the small rack beside the door, placing yours adjacent to it. Spencer relished in the warmth of the place, setting his things down. “So, I’m thinking we get a proper meal in us, and then you can help me decorate this dreary place,” you instructed. He wanted to let you know that anywhere you are is far from being dreary, but something told him that was far too sappy, so he settled for a simple, “Sounds good.” He took in the familiar apartment, its walls embellished in old paintings snagged from secondhand stores and books scattered about on almost every horizontal surface, in a certain disorderliness that said, yes it’s messy, but everything has its place. “Also, I hope you know that you’re only leaving in the morning so make yourself at home.” It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for the two of you; you falling asleep at his apartment out of feebleness, him at yours, and more often than not, it involved discarded games of Scrabble as the two of you settled for debating the rules instead of actually playing. Lately, he’d been craving it more and more - and so had you. Spencer would never say no to that offer, but he was taken aback. “But I didn’t pack- I don’t have-“

“Eidetic memory is slipping I see,” you giggled at his flustered state. “I told you, I kept finding toothbrushes, sweaters and socks here every time you left, so I made a drawer full of your things, since you practically live here anyway,”

“An entire drawer? I didn’t think I was missing a whole lot,” he responded, nose tinted red. “I have to water my plants quickly, before I put dinner on, but feel free to shower,” you said, still laughing quietly. “Let me help cook, first. You need someone to disassemble the smoke alarm,” he raised an eyebrow at you. One ‘KISS THE COOK’ apron and half an hour of seasoning a chicken, spilling sweet potatoes and bumping elbows later, the two of you stood back from the counter, you boasting to Spencer about how nothing had turned to ashes, and him pointing out that the oven hadn’t been turned on yet. Soon after, you put the oven on high, humming an indistinguishable carol over the shower that could be heard running from the next room. A warm, tingling feeling overcame you.

By the time you had showered, Spencer stood serving - a well timed and flawlessly cooked - chicken, wearing mitts matching the baggy flannel pyjamas keeping him warm on top of the open oven. “Smells good,” you complimented, slightly startling Spencer. He stood at the small wooden dining table, mouth agape at the sight of you. He was sure his heart was a puddle. “I like your sweater,” he praised. You glanced down slightly confused, shortly realising that your sweater, with its much too floppy sleeves, reaching a little way above your knees, was actually his. “Oh, I’ll wash it and give it back to you at some point,” you said shyly. “I was wondering where it went, but don’t worry about it, the colour looks nicer on you than it does on me,”

“Nonsense, you know that’s not true.” Soon enough, you found yourselves digging in - not before you expressed your gratitude towards food that wasn’t charred for the first time in months. You sat across from each other, your reindeer sock clad feet occasionally tapping his beneath the table. Spencer’s heart was full, marvelling at you from where he sat, wishing this could be something he could experience forever, much preferring it over a stale sandwich. You watched him intently through your eyelashes, chin resting on your interlaced hands while he taught you about how the thalidomide scandal emerging from Germany led to safer drugs in the pharmaceutical industry, the lecture prompted by an article he’d read recently. It continued into getting the dishes cleaned up, his rambling only being interrupted by your intermittent questions which incited further tangents, or requests to pass the tea towel. His voice was a ruffled silken sheet, on which you would like to lay for eternity. Admittedly, you found it difficult to focus on retaining any more information than the odd date, due to being too focused on the way his lips moved to form every word he said, hopelessly enamoured by the overly enthusiastic expressions he made to match the tone of what he was saying. Eventually, he wandered towards the living room as you stacked away the final plate, butterflies still spurring in your stomach from when his fingers brushed yours as he handed it to you.

“Spencer Reid effortlessly navigating technology, Christmas miracles really do exist, huh?”

“Actually, I just remembered watching you choose music, instead of paying attention to the road, that one time you drove me to work,”

“I was most definitely paying attention,” you huffed out a laugh, slightly bashful at the thought of him remembering small things you do. “You hit the kerb four times! That was the day I vowed to never let you transport me anywhere,”

“I see your argument, and I raise you with the counter argument: the kerb hit me.” Sitting with his back against the couch, legs sprawled out over the rug beneath your coffee table, Spencer couldn’t hold back his laughter. After watching you disappear into the kitchen, he busied himself with reading the holiday edition of Reader’s Digest laying on the table. He recounted you telling him that you had accidentally drunkenly subscribed to it, and never bothered to cancel the subscription, the first time you’d caught him reading an issue. You emerged a short while later, with drinks in both hands. “Bonjour monsieur, on tonight’s menu, we can either open this Merlot or, drink Capri-suns like the sophisticated adults we are. Your pick,” you said, hiding the juice pouches behind your back and noticeably waving the bottle of wine in front of you. “I have a feeling it isn’t my pick,” he let out a laugh, “so just fill a glass with enough Merlot for two,” you were on your way to get a glass before he had the chance to finish. “Your wish is my command!” You called. Spencer put down his magazine once he saw you rushing towards him with a large glass of wine in hand. “Of course you opt for Christmas Jazz over Mariah Carey,” you teased, hearing the music he’d queued floating from the withering speaker in the corner of the living room. It was the kind of music that would play in the diner of an expensive hotel, you noted. “I can change it if you’d like?” He began reaching for your phone, when you halted him by grasping his arm. “No, it’s good, I like your taste.” Spencer grinned sheepishly, taking the glass from your hand as you sat down beside him.

Hours of conversation and decking the halls with tinsel later, with wine flushed cheeks and twinkling eyes you moved the furniture to cater for your very own dance floor. Carefully, Spencer placed a hand below your ribs, touching you like new glassware, lacing the other with yours. Your unfettered hand, replaced the weight of the world as it rested on his shoulder. You recognised the look on his face as he settled into the close proximity, it was the same look that painted yours when you admired him whilst he failed to notice. The soft glow of a lamp illuminated the man you held, making an indistinct halo of golden light appear above his unkempt hair. “I apologise for any damage caused to your feet,” you giggled, struggling to find a rhythm. “Here, follow my lead,” he looked down at your feet. “The Waltz?” Dazzled, you raised an eyebrow, a few seconds after recognising the box-like steps in unison. Spencer tried to focus on anything but your lips, glistening in the dull light, so close to his. “Mhm, I’m not exactly the most co-ordinated-”

“You don’t say?”

“That’s tough talk for someone I’ve seen fall up a flight of stairs,”

“That sounds made up, but as you were saying,” you laughed into his chest. “It’s simple because its a repeating pattern. Did you know that name of the dance comes from the German word waltzen, which means to turn, or to glide? Some say the dance itself comes from the folk music and dances of west Austria, but others debate that it’s a variation of the Volta, from the 16th century,”

“Interesting, makes sense to debate that though. I’m pretty sure volta means ‘a turning’ in Italian - although that’s mostly in reference to the turn of a new thought or idea in sonnets… I’m thinking of Shakespeare,” you chimed in. “Sonnet one-hundred and thirty being a classic example of that,”

“Of course you would know that,” you shook your head in awe, cheeks hurting from grinning too wide. The incandescence of the smile that hadn’t left his face all day was mesmerising, the honeyed expression tied together with the dimples on his cheeks and creases around his eyes. “What would you like for Christmas?” He mumbled, lifting a moment of peaceful silence. “If you pulled my name out of the hat today you’re going to have to be a lot more subtle than that,”

“Unfortunately not,” he pouted. “Don’t tell anyone I told you, but I have Rossi,” he whispered the words into your ear, neglecting that no one else was around to hear. “What do you get a man who already has everything money can buy?”

“A new wife,” you joked, causing him to scoff. He studied your visage as you pondered his earlier question, still swaying to the soft piano sounds. “Honestly Spencer, being able to see you smile, being in your vicinity, just that is enough for me,” you finally answered, tilting your head up at him. Spencer thought his knees would give way. He thought his knees would give way, and he would hit the ground with enough impact to implode through the earth’s crust. In reality, he only stumbled over his feet momentarily, regaining his composure before you noticed him slowly becoming unhinged. “If that’s the case, I wish I’d picked your name,” he managed to utter, breathlessly.

The music which continued to play was drowned out by the sound of steady breathing, you were too caught up in each other to pay attention to the world. Wordless, you looked into his eyes, his actions parallel to yours. “You look beautiful right now,” he sighed. “Of course, you always look beautiful but, you know.” You shook your head, refraining from averting your eyes from his. He wished you believed it, promising himself to never abstain from letting you know until you saw yourself the way he did. “It’s funny you say that, because I was thinking the same thing. About you of course,” you rushed out the last part, realising the potential for miscommunication. “I love seeing you happy,”

“Well, as long as you stick around, you’ll be seeing a lot of that,” he spoke lowly, on the verge of telling you about all the things he felt for you. You hadn’t realised, but you had unconsciously moved closer together. You could feel his warm breath on your skin, lighting a fire inside your lungs, as he took yours away. Spencer saw all of the signs; the signs that this was not usual for a friendship. Maybe, if it weren’t for his defeated battle with fear, and doubt, he would have told you by now that he had fallen desperately for you. Spencer knew there wasn’t a drop of insincerity behind any of the kind words you spoke into him, he understood that you were his person, but he found it difficult enough to comprehend that someone could feel this strongly for someone. So, the implausible idea that someone could feel this way about him, was one he was not even prepared to entertain. “Y/N? I, um,” he tried, wearily. You gave him a soft smile, both tired arms laced behind his neck now as his rested on your waist. He dropped his sword. Once again losing the fight against his unreasonable insecurities, changing his mind at the last second. “I need to give you something,” his demeanour changed and he vanished from your line of vision. Your heart sank, hopes of hearing him say that the love you had for him was requited, fallen. Before you got too lost in your head, he emerged from the doorway with the same black bag you’d been inquisitive of. “Uh, here, this is for, uh, you,” he tucked his lip beneath his teeth. “Spencer…” you trailed off as he handed it to you. You sat yourself on the carpet, patting the spot next to you for him to join. “I thought I should give it to you now, since I’ll be in Vegas for Christmas,”

“Spencer, you really didn’t have to-“

“Go on, open it,” he ignored your humility. You gave him a look as you opened it - it being replaced with a look of elation as you realised what it was. In your hands, you held a scarf, long enough to hit the floor, striped in all your favourite tones. “I had to ask my mom for help with the tassels, but-“

“You took the time to make this? For me?” You exclaimed. Without thought, you draped it around his neck to tug him closer to you, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. “This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, thank you so much,” you lauded, refusing to let go of him. “I think it was last winter, we were walking back to our hotel in Minnesota during a case, and you insisted that the both of us use my scarf to keep us warm, because you didn’t have one,”

“Ah, I remember that, except it ended up being one of the top ten worst disasters in U.S. history due to the height difference, and we both ended up falling face-first into the snow,” you giggled, recalling the way you had used up most of the hotel’s hot water afterwards. “Exactly,” he matched your expression, “seeing as you still haven’t bought one for yourself, even though we lose eighty percent of our body heat through our head and neck, I thought I would take matters into my own hands,”

“Well, I love it. You’ll have to tell your mother I said thank you and that I’m sending my love,” you finally dropped your arms from around him, out of fear of crushing his shoulders.

Once the zeroes had lined up on the twenty-four clock, Spencer sat where he usually resided on your bed, ardently admiring you as you folded away his gift. “Wait! Spencer close your eyes! Please!” You squeaked, immediately shutting the cupboard doors, realising your unwrapped present for him was hidden within. “Y/N? Is everything alright?” He asked, eyes now sealed shut. “I didn’t want you to see what I’d bought for Secret Santa,” you let out, too exhausted to form a coherent excuse. “We only got those names today - well, yesterday, now - so how did you manage to-”

“Shoot,” you cursed to yourself, knowing his unintentional profiling would lead him to the conclusion sooner or later. Spencer’s eyes slowly opened. “Okay, let’s say if, hypothetically, I had intended on giving you something for Christmas anyway, but then drawn your name today, would you, hypothetically, be able to act surprised when you receive it from me at work?”

“Hypothetically speaking, I would?” He squinted at you, stifling laughter. Your hair was slightly messy and your drowsy eyes were visible to Spencer even without his contacts in. He thought you just looked so adorable, wanting nothing more than to hold you and share your warmth. “Anyway, come to bed,” he beckoned, his voice gravelly, giving way for the day. Obliging, you shuffled towards your bed before sliding your cold feet beneath the covers. Spencer turned to face you, resting his cheek on an upturned palm. “Sorry for ruining the surprise,” you whispered, tucking the duvet under your chin, bright eyes looking through him. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he assured, treasuring the sight before him. There had been a shift in the air between the two of you. Spencer held the wine accountable, but he could sense that you felt it too, a level of intimacy that you had not quite reached during previous nights like this. “Come closer, I need to exploit your body heat while I can.” Spencer listened to your instruction, inching nearer to you, his heart rate so high he was sure you could feel it when you nuzzled your head into his chest. “Goodnight,” you felt his chest rumble. “Hang on, the night isn’t over yet,” you mumbled, “talk to me,”

“About?” He asked, amused by your grit to avoid sleep. “Anything you want,” you yawned. “You’re sleepy,” he stated, coaxing you into getting some shut eye. When you tilted your head up and continued to blink at him, he gave in. “Have you ever wondered why a lot of our most vulnerable conversations happen at night?” You nodded in response. “Well, a study done by the University of Colorado a couple of years ago concluded that natural light from the sun actually regulates your circadian rhythm, or internal biological clock, which standardises your sleep cycle. According to their study, this sleep cycle coincides with sunrise and sunset, meaning that if you regularly expose yourself to sunlight, your body enhances its internal clock to align more closely with the natural light cycle,”

“Based on that,” you contended, words slightly jumbled, “our circadian rhythm would vary between seasons, right? And yours would be different, since you’re a literal vampire, to say... someone who surfs down in Florida because of disparity in sun exposure?”

“Precisely,” he raised his eyebrows, “I’m impressed you’re still paying attention, you look like you’re already dreaming.” Spencer nudged your forehead gently with his own, causing you to breath out a laugh. “Alright, so how does all of that relate to being more vulnerable at night?”

“It relates in the sense that the rise and fall of the sun reflects in our physiological, as well as emotional behaviour. During the day, we’re a lot more active, and at night, we become more relaxed and receptive. Hence, since your mind is at ease, all the thoughts and emotions that might have felt jumbled up during the day become clear, making them a whole lot easier to express,”

“Mhm,” you managed, eyelids growing heavy. “Do you… have anything to say now,” you whispered drowsily, eyes now closed, “that you can’t say during the day?” Spencer couldn’t handle it anymore. He was already so fond of you but as his hand settled to rest around your waist, feeling your warmness, he believed his ribs could collapse from the way he felt inside. As you dozed off, gradually, winter became less cold in his arms and dreamscapes of his tea leaf eyes. “And, she’s asleep,” he whispered, minutes after silence, into your hair, “but to answer your question, yes,” his lips planted a chaste kiss on your forehead, “I love you.” Of course, unbeknownst to him, you weren’t asleep just yet.

∗∗∗

A couple of days went by, and as more time went on, the less certain you became as to whether Spencer had really even said the words, wondering if the whole thing was just a fatigue driven hallucination your lovesick mind had conjured up. Waking up beside him the next morning however, tangled in a warm cocoon of cotton and limbs, had left you feeling giddy, smiling like a fool with heart shaped eyes as he attempted to feed you the waffles he’d made - which the two of you gulped down far too quickly than sanctioned, to avoid being late for work. When you didn’t succeed, and the clock had beaten you by ten minutes, you both wrestled past evocative looks from the rest of the team for the remainder of the day, JJ even singing something about the two of you ‘sitting in a tree’ . The soft, shared, smiles and light brushes of fingertips when he handed you coffee in the mornings left you wanting to concede; let him know that you would walk on burning coal for him, the more logical side of you reminding you that professing your devotion to him over an open case file consisting of a double homicide, three days before Christmas, was far from ideal. Spencer wanted the kind of love only the poets could express. This had become evident the evening you took him to a midnight screening of ‘Un homme et Une Femme’. You recalled leaning into him to translate, catching sight of his welling eyes glimmer in the dim lit theatre. Believing his love should be celebrated, you decided to withhold the unsurfaced feelings a little while longer.

Later that week, you all gathered around the BAU tree, a small framed picture of Derek decidedly hanging from one of its upper branches after Garcia had to be heavily persuaded, and eventually bribed, to not place it at the top, arguing “But he’s my star.” Spencer snuck behind you, subtly placing a hand on your back to glide through and place Rossi’s gift under the tree. “I want to let you know that I’ve been practicing my ‘surprised’ face in the mirror,” he discreetly whispered against your neck, making you roll your eyes. “Okay super sleuths, I know we’re all itching to fly away for a break, but hold your reindeer, because we are yet to kick off our annual Secret Santa,” Garcia excitedly exclaimed, shuffling in with two large sparkling bags. “I thought there was a budget?” Rossi quirked. “Yes, sir,” she looked smug, “for you.” The team shared smiles at Rossi’s perplexed look. “So, who wants to start us off?” Garcia chirped. With that, the festivities were under way. You held tight an abnormally large heat sensitive mug, which you were sure would also reveal a promiscuous image once warm - a gift from Emily, who gave herself away by insisting it would help your caffeine dependency - watching as the others tackled ribbon wrapping paper. You threw an impressed look Spencer’s way, that glint of knowing something the universe doesn’t returning to your eyes, when Rossi opened a small portrait of what looked to be a Venetian cathedral, the Santa Maria to be exact. Once the banter and excited chatter had died down, everyone turned to the recipient of the final gift, neatly labelled Spencer Reid, enveloped in brown paper and tied with deep purple ribbon. Penelope looked as if she were about to pass out. Spencer’s shifting eyes landed on JJ as she mouthed a small ‘you’re up’, causing a smile to tug at his lips when he eyed you gazing at him with the soft look he adored. Your eyes lingered on his hands as they swimmingly untied the mauve knot and tore open the paper to reveal a large leather-bound journal. He examined the old looking thing, trailing his fingers along the convoluted golden details of the artistic interpretation of a moon calendar adorning its umber covers, partially covered by thin leather straps. His mouth was slightly agape, shaking a little at how well you knew him, clumsily catching the matching novelty pen before it slipped out of the wrapping and onto the floor. You had picked it up at a forlorn occult shop after it had caught your eye while looking out of place as it lay surrounded by large crystals. Knowing in an almost divine way that it should belong to Spencer, you had bought it. He couldn’t help but look at you briefly, communicating a silent gratitude. “This is amazing,” he ogled, “I love it.” Your heartbeat was in your throat. He was yet to find out you’d filled the first page for him.

Shouts of Merry Christmas, long hugs and season’s greetings were thrown around the room before, one by one, everyone slowly bade their goodbyes. While helping JJ clear away torn reds and greens of gift wrapping, you caught sight of Spencer, ears and cheeks scarlet, with his nose buried in his new, opened, journal.

“We are asleep until we fall in love," you looked up from Leo Tolstoy’s one thousand page book and recited to me, once. Since you walked into my life, I’ve been wide awake. You know that I’m never far away, but this is for the days you need to let out some of what you hold in, without saying it aloud.

I love you too, Spencer.

Spencer read and re-read the words until he was sure he could recite them like the Lord’s Prayer. It was commonly Spencer who remembered small details and remembered paltry quotations, but this time, it was you. Sitting in the glow of the afternoon sun, one October, he had been reading War and Peace, and couldn’t help but share the line with you as you sat across from him, chewing through a much smaller number of pages and reading a collection of poetry. The woman he had been so captivated by, admiring from afar that day - and all others, felt the same way he did. In disbelief, he began breathing manually. Making sure he was deciphering the cursive lettering correctly, he scanned the page again. While his eyes were definitely not deceiving him, they remained glued to one word. Awake. The havoc caused in his heart by the train of thought hitting him so brutally, rivalled only Gare Montparnasse. You must’ve heard his confession nights ago. It was the only explanation for the ‘I love you, too’. You most definitely were awake. Profiling tendencies overcame him. With his basic background of graphology, he could make out that the last line had been written in fresher ink than all the others, confirming his hypothesis. For the first time in a while, his mind was quiet, the uncertainties which fought to float in, unable to make their way through as if the thee simple words you’d handed him were a barrier for them. He needed to talk to you.

Walking quickly towards the elevator, an overwhelming wave of anxiety crashed over you. You had subconsciously been avoiding Spencer for most of the evening, second-guessing whether or not you’d heard him correctly, whether he’d even meant the words in the way you’d interpreted, wondering what you would do if this friendship were to ever end. However, a more hopeful side of you contended to quiet those thoughts. He had to feel it too. There was no room in which you hadn’t shared a longing look. The feather touches, and dancing. So badly did you want to believe that he thought this too. A slender arm appeared through the closing elevator doors, tugging you back to reality, causing you to jump before quickly pushing the open button. “Spencer! You could’ve lost an arm!” You yelped. “It’s okay, I have two of them,” he huffed. He avoided your eyes for a moment, before inhaling half of the oxygen in the small lift and turning towards you. “I wanted to say thank you, for this,” he held up the book, “it’s gorgeous, and sort of… exactly what I needed - and not just the book itself but what you wrote… inside it,” he nervously looked at you. “Did you- do you mean what you wrote?” His tone of voice syringed into you a drop of hurt. “Spencer, I never want you to think that I don’t mean it,” your let out in a shaky voice, gently grasping his elbow. You visibly saw his body ease, a smitten smile replacing the lip being chewed at. His throat bobbed as he gulped before he spoke again, heartbeat in his ears. “I want you to know that I’m in love with you, Y/N. I don’t want you the way I want a best friend, I want you in a-” he sighed, clenching and unclenching his fist trying to find the words, “I want you in a way that means I want to fall asleep beside you, and wake up to you the next morning, for as long as the sun rises. I want you. I want you - no, need you, the way the tide needs the moon to rise and fall, I want you-” he swallowed, furrowing his brows at his feet, “I want you, like this.” Hazel eyes fluttering shut was the last thing you saw. Large hands lightly caressed your face, one travelling behind your ear, brushing your neck to delicately tangle in your hair. After years of wondering, you finally knew what his lips felt like on yours. His nose bumped yours lightly as you tasted his soft lips, their slight chap reminding you that winter had kissed them first. Your hands wrapped around his wrists, before one settled on his tilted jaw and another hid in his chestnut hair. He felt warm, everywhere you touched setting electricity through him. Even after you pulled apart, his arms remained on either side of your face, holding you like you were fragile. His breath fanned over your face, as you shivered, the fluttering in your stomach unsubdued. The elevator had long reached the ground floor, causing the two of you to bashfully laugh concurrently. You thought to yourself that Spencer’s crimson flush and wide grin was a sight you would lose sleep to gaze at. “All this time, I’ve been missing out on that,” you teased, watching him shyly bite his lip as he waited for you to say something else. “I’m very glad you said all of that because I’m very much in love with you, Spencer Reid, and, if you’ll let me, I want to love you, the way people love in all the books you’ve lent me,” you told him. At that, he was sure his heart was yours, fearlessly. So, making afternoon plans and debating which train to take, neither of you really caring as long as you were in the other’s company, you finally stepped out of the elevator, oblivious to the mistletoe that was hanging within it, but more than mindful of what was to come.

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matchamorphosis · 4 years

Text

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 1-800-𝓘-𝓛𝓞𝓥𝓔-𝓤

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 || waiting for you and your beau’s dinner reservation later on tonight you and he spend valentines day together through the devotion of your dial rotary telephone

𝓰𝓮𝓷𝓻𝓮 || fluffy smut

𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 || steve rogers × [black//woc]!reader

𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽 || 4.6K

𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 || 18+ nsfw, introduction to phone sex but i don’t go any bit further, body worship, captain kink, one bibical mention, reader gets spoiled to the t!, but still this is not suitable for anyone that isn’t 18+

𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓽𝓼 || move over darling by doris day ♡ all of me by billie holiday ♡ unforgettable by nat king cole ♡ dream a little dream of me by ella fitzgerald & louis armstrong

𝔀. 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓮 || this is my gift for the divine @denisemarieangelina! for @chrissquares + @drabblewithfrannybarnes + @amythedvdhoarder Hoelentine’s Day Challenge! ♡ i’m very anxious to share this because i did this simpler version of writing then what i’m usually used to but I hope you enjoy this lovely and happy valentines day! muah! ♡ please tell me if you don’t like this because i can always add onto this if you want more! ♡ anyways i hope you cherubs enjoy this to! ♡♡♡

BABY PINK ENVELOPES FILL THE SPACE IN YOUR HANDS

humming along to the musing record that spins on the turntable the kitchen is alive with the sentimental lyrics of Nat King Cole and Billie Holiday you sway your leg over your knee as you read the bush colored letters. the quaint apartment complex fills with blissful warmth, for the maiden in the kitchen enjoys her breakfast yearning for her partner to return as quickly as he promised. analyzing the intricate curves and dips of Steven’s handwriting, it pulls you into a hypnotizing trance as your mind fills with nothing but his deep voice as you read along.

cordial elements wrapping the visible areas of skin your Valentine’s sweethearts button down doesn’t cover. it is a relaying fact that the crisp expansive piece makes your body seem petite but because of its obscene size the fabric falls past your shoulders in a graceful fashion. clumsily buttoning up the blazer wrongly that early morning, it only adds onto the carefree nature that exhibits and adds onto your soft sways and musical hums.

reaching for your steaming pink mug of milk chocolate cappuccino that lays near more open letters and more envelopes free from their wax sealings. you plan on opening all of them throughout the day, holding onto the handle you bring it up to your soft lips. attentive fingertips trace the cursive black ink of Steven’s handwriting in a lovesick gaze. the accidental ink splotches and small charcoal sketches of floral anatomy make the pace of your heart slow in a tender beat.

despite your devoted attention being on your beau’s love letters there are other envelopes that aren’t just from your Steven. although to make it easier to recognize the difference between the uninterested letter from past lovers and secret admirers Stevens envelopes are printed in your favorite shade of pink.

these darling letters that Steven is now confident to share with you are filled with small poems. being terrified of gifting you in the early phases of your relationship, your holding the multiple pages amongst pages of dazing sketches of your bodies beautiful features. paragraphs that outline his love letters to you which he kept hidden in a journal. reading and daydreaming as you take in each poetic sentence of your beau explain and sharing each love struck moment of his days that he adored spending with you.

the timeline of these letters go back from days, to weeks to whole years. it astounds you how you’ve never caught Steven in the act of writing poetry or making a love entrée yet you aren’t at all complaining. however the envelopes were a surprise to come across to when you looked over the mail. they weren’t in your daily sack delivered by the porter but laying in a huge pile on your kitchen island before he left that morning.

they went handsomely with his gifted bouquet of your favorite flowers that decorated each room of your apartment. a bud of them you found laying amongst the colorfully cream colored candles is now in your hair tucked behind your ear. Steven’s handwriting displayed on the front-

for my darling

they were just waiting for you to read and so here you are soaking in each vow hidden in his whimsical sonnets and ballads.

smelling both the sweet nectar of the flower and the divine cocoa of your cappuccino you continue reading from his letters. mirthful eyes dashing along each word of the little poem he wrote for you, the gleaming smile that frames your face doesn’t settle down one bit as you read and sing them not louder than a breathy whisper. giggling aloud and kicking your bare feet in the air when you read Steven’s beautifully crafted poetry centered and dedicated to you and only you.

the letters seem to distract you from the vast amounts of gifts, arranging from exquisitely wrapped small boxes to large gift bags bearing designer brands. Steven sent each gift along with the blush colored letters but they lie unattentively under your pedicured feet that bounce along with the turntable. singing along Billie Holidays lyrics of April in Paris as you continue to read and sip from your chocolatey cappuccino. the letters themselves are elegantly scattered onto the marble island where you bite into one of the buttery croissants that are bunched in a wooden basket you have prepared since the morning.

of course you weren’t supposed to eat alone, by all means this day of domestic and fairytale romance wasn’t suited to be spent alone. it of course isn’t suited for you in the slightest, not like you to bear this inconvenience.

in front of you -well behind the sketches your dreamily admiring- rests a large breakfast consisting of baked sweet and savory pastries, sunny yellow omelets and fresh ripe fruit. the early meal was suppose to be a little feast for both you and the public hero but of course your heroic beau had his urgent errands to run. a phone call rudely interrupted the session of your passionate lips and tongues destine to spiral you both on the cloud of desire.

the ringtone acting as nothing but an irritating background noise, it cause the blond to pull away to deal with it. walking away from you and out of your private bathroom suite and as obvious as this is going to sound- Steven didn’t decline the call. from your position as you sat on the marble and gold flecked kitchen sink, your hand rests on the golden swan at the faucet.

listening as you heard him hum along to whatever the dispatcher had to say before hanging up and heard his footsteps coming closer and there you say your lover. smiling to him as you pulled him towards you, lips gracing his he cut the devastating news to you of his unplanned errands. apologizing to you with a kiss but ending it with a promise for an intimate dinner reservation he did plan beforehand.

then with a change of clothes, he was out the door but you willed yourself to not be upset at him. your Steven always kept his promises and you were still swooning over the lovely events that happened last night that still show the results of it all on your skin and a delicious soreness in between your legs. ending passionately in wine soaking your thoughts and actions you both headed to your apartment and tangled in your sheets. you now are wearing his button up he wore to the dinner reservation that night, slightly wrinkled yet smelling of Stevens entrancing cologne.

it brings you back to that night and you could still feel the searing butterfly traces of his lips along your collarbones, neck and breasts. dainty and vivid as the white sunshine that streams through the high white apertures of your apartment.

it’s all beautifully cinematic

the music playing on the record as you enjoy your breakfast while reading your lovers letters to you. chocolate spread used to smear over the flaky pastry in your hand smears the corners of your lips and you wish Steven is here to thumb it away. a sorrow filled sigh break through your lips, knowing these letters are all you have of him at the moment as he’s out busy at Stark Tower doing only god knows what and bumping heads with only god knows who. silence only greets those thoughts and you realize that the collection of records playing your favorite romance artists have stopped sounding out their hearty tunes.

frowning, you get up and replay the record before returning back to the kitchen and to your seat. hands go back to the letters and your heart warms up in a matter of blissful seconds, cheery contentment dawning your face in delightful charm. although a question still dances along the crowded ballroom of your mind-

whatever will you do with the time you have alone on Valentine’s Day awaiting for your beau?

it is only eight in the morning, Stevens plans are set around nine tonight and you could do so much more than just doll yourself up. finishing your lavish breakfast you begin tidying up once you place another record on the sitting room turntable. the music flowing throughout the large and finely furnished apartment, it creates a heavenly picturesque glow that brightens the golden framed paintings and renaissance clawfoot furniture.

you feel like an old Hollywood actress staring in her romantic comedy, it makes you nothing but languorous glee. the beauty of your vivid imagination pulling your typewritten script and setting your scenes to hear the director yell action! manifesting the movie with each pirouetting step, you feel the timeless sensation of Audrey Hepburn and Elizabeth Taylor gracing down on from the heavens.

singing along with the records, recited movie lines from Breakfast At Tiffany’s and Rear Window. romantically immortal films consisting of elegant tailored outfits of Chanel and Moschino that the leading actress would flirt with her on screen partner, long and lust filled stares between your lover and the epitome of transatlantic accents that would make an European swoon.

the craftsmanship of your fantasy aiding you by hiding away any untouched breakfast foods, biting into a jam filled puff pastry you keep the sweet confectionery in between your teeth as you organize Steven’s letters. filing them from the ones you have read, that you carefully fold back into their envelops- to the ones you plan on reading later. clearing them away safely on an ivory tabletom dancing along with the beat of the record.

pulling yourself back into the visionary scene of your beloved vintage films, a baby blue Dior headband frames your heads crown and keeps your untamed bed hair away from your temple as you start a kettle of tea. retrieving your personally cherished china set from your glassy cupboards, soaking your desired teabags, home grown herbs and honey dewdrops into the separate porcelain teapot. turning the nob on the stovetop off once the screeching kettle ready with boiling water becomes louder than the music, it quietly dies down and you hum as you place the boiling water into the small porcelain teapot.

steam erupting, its soothing when the scorching water drenches in the tea ingredients that begin to linger a sweet smelling scent. peachy cheeks soft and dewy as the sweet sunshine bounces off them, you carefully unfold each divinely wrapped box covered with glossy ribbons and confetti gift bag covered in strawberry scented tissue paper. blowing and sipping from your tea cup, you tenderly bundle Stevens button up around you as you examine his gift.

each eye grabbing and more expansive with each one passing you look over the heavy offering of baby pink and cream tulle trimmed Agent Provocateur lingerie. the occasion of lacey babydolls and pink fury teddys holding cupid hearts coming once with every three bags you also discover the silver Tiffany charms in powdered pistachio blue boxes. pastel pink heart-shaped pastel boxes of Chardonnet et Walker pink marc de champagne truffles make your mouth tingle.

mink coats and cashmere sweaters dedicated to wrap you nice and warm in the snowy weather. a starlight smile shines at the fact of Steven remembering you looking through a few catalogues days after New Years. princess cut Dior earrings that shine like dangling stars and heart-shaped Prada handbags that would make any winged cherub strike their golden arrows into.

Steven always went above and beyond with your Valentine gifts and you weren’t even halfway done with opening the boxes and bags but seemed fit to prepare yourself for the day ahead of you.

curves swaying along with Louis Armstrong's flaunting trumpet and Ella Fitzgerald's sweetly divine vocals once you get from your criss-crossed position on the floor. passing the wrapping paper and ribbon bows scattered in a sprawled lovecore mess, you make your way to your bedroom. bare feet adding against the carpet, passing golden framed body length mirrors and vase upon vase of flowers and burning candles. a silver tray bearing the porcelain petunia painted tea kettle, china tea cup and Stevens letters in your hands.

entering your open bedroom filled with crisp sunshine, your eyes dash over to your mess of a bed. white sheets that once held two giggling and kissing lovers is now empty with the exception of your pet laying lazily on the wrinkled plush comforter. blowing a kiss to the sleeping fluffy beauty before opening the molded white door to your private suite.

dancing along the white marble of the floor you run your bathtub full of hot water. taking your time preparing your dress and the lingerie you’ll wear tonight, it wasn’t exactly easy. Steven took a great joy in gifting you all the luxuries of jewelery, lingerie and clothing you desired, took great joy in fucking you in them as well. but as you enter the bathroom and exit to go through your wardrobe in your closets you go through boxes upon boxes of lingerie.

rummaging the organized baby pink boxes that you took hours organizing, you did realize that some bralettes were missing their panties yet you remember your gentlemen liked keeping a pair or two in his office when he’s away. you settle with not wearing anything Steven bought you but what you ordered on a website that caught your attention, more so intrigued of the fabulous singer and actress who ran the brand.

the divine deep red Valentines Day pieces of Fenty Lingerie were expansive but so was your credit card as you ordered the whole collection. hiding the box away from Steven and his too curious grasps you now reveal the box and open it. taking out the desired heart bralettes and Gartier belted thigh highs that went along with the lewd sheer panties you let out a delightful squeal at the thought of Steven ripping off your silk slip dress to reveal this sinful number.

sipping from your tea, you go through your jewelry boxes settled on seashell chests on your vanity. retrieving your dearest diamond accessories to go along with the slip dress you head back to the bathroom. the water rising to your favorable height you fill the marble crest with rose petals, rose oils, rose water and rose bubble bath. of course, with Steven’s relentless showing of gifts there were enough Italian imported red wines for you to bathe in but you settled for your rose bath set that was tucked in the corners of your towel closet.

burning Diptyque candles around the tub, you settle your delicate cup down on the tray. departing from your beaus button down, you sink your feet and body into the floral water glowing in pearly bubbles smelling just the tint of sea salt. dissolving your thoughts and worries in the soft pink-hued mist your hands reach for Steven’s letters. carefully undoing the crimson wax seal your fingers grasp the letter and polaroid photographs it holds.

giggling when you read that this specific letter is about you and Stevens first time. reading along the lines of his amusing embarrassment of him not knowing what he was doing exactly it still warms your heart when he stated in his own writing that he was grateful and happy to share that moment with you.

the letter going into detail of all the moments that break you into laughter- such as when you and Steven rolled off your bed unaware as you and him were to wrapped in the passion- to your face heating up when he went into erratic detail of his hand placements on your ‘Aphrodite like body encouraging the Aries affair to overturn gracefully, to repent in no favor but yours’.

not being ashamed to write down every moment of the midnight passion. from the way you tongues and lips were locked and didn’t dare separate for air, to how his hands ripped your clothes into shreds ‘to praise and worship the skin that sparkled and shone like buried treasures for my hands to caress’. a heavenly burn begins fluttering in between your bubble sud thighs when you look over the polaroid's. some you took and some he took but all in all they showed you and him doing, well-

your first time

a slow hand that doesn’t hold the scandalous polaroid's flows down to your bubble covered breast. pinching the nipple, the sensation only sends the pleasure down south to your hidden jewel. biting your bottom lip, you crave for Steven’s hands. crave his lips, crave his touch...

generally, his attention but you cannot go past your golden rule no matter how good the thought of your fingers stroking your folds sounds. knowing its best to not break the rule of touching yourself without his permission the thought of it sits pleasantly in your head. trying to distract yourself the growing sensation with his other letters and plucking one of the fifty fluffy macaroons that lie on the pretty Laudree packaging.

Steven gifted you all the luxuries that would substitute his absence, but all you ever wanted was him

heart thumping in this truth you again attempt to distract yourself with his blush colored letter. cooing at Stevens cute sketches of you and reading poems dedicated to his first impression when meeting you- but you cannot think of anything or concentrate on anything but the first letter. giving cheating glances back to the polaroid's, your glance is captivated by Steven’s handsome and muscled physique in the contrasted filter. the faintly colored noir-film like pictures emphasizing on his golden skin rippling against the sheets caging you in with his arms.

the night replays with the jazz music in the ballroom of your mind, throwing your head back you feel yourself underneath him just as you were then. hands in his hair and his clenching the sheets besides your head when you kiss passionately as he rubbed his hard member against your forbidden fruit.

it didn’t help your case at all that you’re embellishing that night into your thoughts. it’s only making you desire your sweetheart more and more, needing him more and more as the minutes passed.

wanting- no, craving to hear the sweet music that is his voice

yearning to descry the divine tinge of his tongue clicking to his teeth when you says your name so sweetly. to imagine the movement of his tulip petal lips as he speaks his ‘I love you’s’ like a prayer and he’s on his knees for a goddess.

oh you needed it just as much as his instructions on how to handle your distressing state. realizing the soft pink dial telephone that stood at the opposite side of the tub you bite your lip in thought.

should you call Steven?

it makes you wonder, shifting against the water careful to not spill any over the edge. chewing on a raspberry macaroon at the thought, you pout not knowing exactly what you’d say. you and Steven have been in a relationship for years now, it should be simple to call your lover and talk to him about this yet a sparking idea light up like a shimmering star above your head.

you and Steven were both helpless for dirty talk, your words and underlying message would pull him out of whatever he was in to cater to help you with your problem.

your thundering impatience and searing lust had shameless minds of their own as you pulled the cushioned ottomon closer to you and dialed Steven’s office number through the rotary disc. heart strumming along with the music continuing to play in the distance you do not exhale a breath as you hear the sound of the phone dialing. the powdered pink handset in your hands. chin resting on the rim of the porcelain tub as your lips brush against the mouthpiece in the shape of a heart.

when the dial ends with the sounds of him about to speak a gleaming smile radiates off your lips, pulling the handset closer to you to speak.

“Steven!” your giggle that follows afterwards makes a dimpled smile pull at the blond’s lips and he lightly chuckles.

your presence melting away anything else that captured his attention away from you. fortunately you weren’t the only one craving the love and affection of your partner, Steven was in a busy meeting with Tony and the other avengers at the grey and stern table. argued his way through and pursuing a solution to the worldly crisis that was in their hands but with the progress he’s making he’s sure to help the team come to an agreement.

“how are you doing, my love? did you enjoy your gifts? i’m counting down the hours till I pick you up for our reservation. treat you how you should be treated today,” Steven’s tender words breaks your dreamy state and your wispy babydoll lashes flutter at the sound of his voice.

“well right now i’m taking a bath. drinking some tea, reading your letters and i just so happened to cross on this one specific letter…” your teasing voice flowing through the mouthpiece and into Steven’s ears.

striking his brain, trying to comprehend what you're saying and trying to decipher whether your giggles are aimed towards him or onto something else. you made it known how much of a tease you were, from your suggestive dresses you’d torture him with when you’d attend gala’s to your shameless yet elegant class as you’d whisper all the dirty things you want him to do you once you two got home.

indeed it worked like a charm, sometimes it left little self control as he’d take you in that backseat of the sleek vehicle. it’s definitely working now

“alright what are going on about you little minx?” Steven states, a tint of his dominance in his voice but you continue to drift in your fit of giggles as you bend your knee to your chest in exuberance.

pulling Steven’s letters that rest besides the silver tray of macaroons and tea, you hug them to your chest as you reread his paragraphs upon paragraphs of his thunderous thoughts and detailed emotions ravaging you in sinful detail.

“oh, nothing Stevie... just couldn’t stop thinking about a little something, do wanna know about it?”

“absolutely darling. anything is better then being in that room with those blockheads,” Steven didn’t know he said that thought aloud but you don’t care.

you’re panning on relieving the throbbing pleasure pulsing at your slicked core and maybe undo some stress he’s under if he’s a fair distance away from wandering ears.

“will do Captain, ‘the second our mouths collided was an ambrosial taken place. a supernova in labor between our bodies thriving to find our peak, creating a cosmos of divination as her walls wrapped around my cock. the indescribable pleasure as unforgettable as the dimple at the corner of your fiery lips and enchanting sparkle in her eyes. the moans that flowed from her mouth soft and encouraging-

“‘-as I wrapped her thighs over my shoulder and thrusted my cock deeper and deeper into her forbidden fruit. her sweet, forbidden fruit so sweet I wouldn’t dare reject if a serpent offered so.’ I was hoping you’d read that special one, you need to understand how lovesick I was for you then. i’m still lovesick about you now but its gotten impossibly stronger now than before.”

that statement makes you shift in the water, rubbing your thighs together as your fingers rest in between them. imagining its Steven’s large hand that’s pinned at the plushness, however you’re yearning for the warmth, security and skill they hold that your hands don’t nearly possess.

“lovesick you say?” you purr, the sinful sound rolling off your tongue it makes roses blush on Stevens cheeks.

an unknown tightness of his trousers making itself known, he grits his teeth at your tactic but he cannot help it. he gives in so easily for you, it impossible to repent and withold

“yes doll, i’m lovesick. lovesick for you and only you. now answer your Captain, did you enjoy your gifts?” his voice growing and deepening, lust soaking his thoughts and hardening his member at the thoughts of you, you, you.

holding the phone in between your ear and should as you pluck another macaroon from the assortment. a smirk plays on your lips knowing that your plan is working, you can here his little grits and groans as he locks his office door.

“I did enjoy your gifts Captain, and I love the fact that seventy percent of them all are tiny pretty things that barely cover my body. I love giving you a good show when you get home from work,” your voice smooth as the buttercream roses you decorate with your heart-shaped cakes.

your free hand tweaks at your nipple, the remands of strawberry vanilla from your previous macaroon stick on your tongue but how how you want to taste the pre cum that leaks from Steven’s tip. the filthy thought has you abandoning your breast to give attention to your cunt, a whimper excluding your lips when it burns so good at just the touch.

“mhm I knew you’d enjoy them doll. you always pull such good performances for me in them. so sweet and pretty, all for me to rip it off you,” you don’t mean to slip past a moan as your fingers rub your pearl but it’s too late to take it back when he hear Stevens stern exhale.

“are you touching yourself sweetheart?” his voice isn’t smooth and suave no more but raspy and demanding, making your fingers stop their rubbing motion.

“n-no,” you fib but all you want to do is sink in the bubbly warm water when you hear Steven darkly chuckle.

“don’t lie to your Captain sweetheart. are you touching yourself? tell the truth,” you gulp at that, mouth shaking as you bring the sound piece of the handset closer to your lips. internally hoping and praying that Steven will give in to you, even when you’re breaking a golden rule.

“yes. yes I am Captain,” your breathy whisper holds all the euphoria and lust you're body is swimming in and it doesn’t help that you hear the metal clank of a belt unbuckling.

“without my permission?” you can’t decipher his voice, whether or not he’s angry or disappointed your fingers stop tracing the bubbly surface of the pink tinted water.

“y-yes, Captain- but I just couldn’t help it! you left me and my mess alone this morning. i’m so lonely here without you,” you mellow, your fingers once again tracing your lower lips.

not daring to plunge them deeper once you hear the light sound of Stevens heavy breath fanning into your ear. shivers sending up and down your spine deliciously, it’s like he’s here with you now even when he’s on the other side of the city.

“mhm, you just couldn’t help it, sugar can’t you? you need me right now don’t you sweet girl? you need your Captain to help you?” nodding hysterically along with him.

coming to a realization that your lover can’t see you nod your head, your pretty lips you’d let him kiss and use any day pull into a pout. knowing you’re going to have to beg him to allow yourself to touch your pussy.

well, his pussy

“yes please! I-I need you Ste- Captain! please I need you!” your breathy voice begs and on the other end Steven has a smirk playing on his handsome face.

it’s hours until he’ll be done with his meeting and hours until he picks you up for your dinner reservation but he’s in your debt. you never know this but Steven was sprawled in your hand, whatever you desired and needed he’ll give you within the snap of his fingers. if you needed him when he’s away, he’ll make it seem he’s right near the tub. guiding your fingers in and out of your hole and leaving praises and affirmations into your ear.

“how can I say no to you doll?”

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killing-all-joy · 4 years

Note

“You come here often?” “Well, I work here. So I think I’d have to say ‘yes’.” Roman tried to be charming/flirt but Janus is done with life (like he is a tired barista or something)

Here we have it, my first Christmas fic (and coffeeshop au i think). Happy holidays y’all, and have a wonderful [insert holiday you celebrate here]! (The sides celebrate Christmas though and so I figured...why not Christmas themed?)

Roman swung open the door to the coffee shop. It was Christmas Day, and Roman had slept in. He had woken up an hour and a half ago, and since it was now noon, Roman was ready for some coffee and a croissant. Lunch could come later.

He found himself standing at the back of a rather short line; it was indeed a holiday, so it made sense for the coffee shop to not be as crowded as usual. Still, there were three people ahead of Roman.

Roman looked around while he waited. He didn’t go to this coffeeshop as often. He usually went to the one across town, but that one was surprisingly busy. While he would love to just skip having coffee, he knew he’d need it in order to deal with his brother on this day of cheer. This coffeeshop, Don’t Be Latte, was also close to a new pizza place that opened the month previous. Roman wanted to see just how good the new pizza place was.

As he took a step forward in the line, he noticed the cashier he would be talking to. And, oh did Roman notice him. He was absolutely gorgeous. He had blond hair, green eyes, a large scar (or birthmark, Roman didn’t know) on the left side of his face, and was wearing a gray beanie. It was cold, so Roman didn’t judge the hat choice. It looked rather cute to Roman anyway. When he could faintly hear the sound of the cashier’s voice, Roman started to internally swoon. His voice was smooth, low, and heavenly. Roman was happy he had time to compose himself before he had to talk to the cute guy.

Roman watched as another customer finished and stepped out of the line. Roman stepped forward as the line continued. He silently lectured himself not to faint, stutter, or make a complete fool out of himself. On the flipside, he also thought about ways to flirt with and ask out the cashier. In his defense, it wasn’t every day Roman saw a cute guy who looked to be his age that he was able to speak to. Roman hoped he could at least get his number.

The customer ahead of Roman stepped aside. It was now Roman’s turn to order. He stepped up to the counter, putting on his most charming smile.

The cashier exhaled loudly. Roman figured the customer ahead of him must have been a bit...demanding. He found the exasperation endearing.

“Good morning and happy winter holidays! Merry Christmas if you celebrate it,” Roman greeted. “How are you today?”

The cashier didn’t spare Roman a glance.

“It’s noon. Not morning anymore. You customers are a nightmare, so my Christmas will not be merry.”

“I suppose you’re right about it not being morning,” Roman conceded. “The sun has reached it’s highest point, and is showering you in the most angelic glow.”

The cashier gave him an unimpressed look. “It’s cold. What can I get for you?”

“A medium sized coffee,” said Roman, putting an elbow on the counter and leaning his head on his fist.

“Any cream in your coffee?”

“Yes, please,” said Roman politely.

“How sweet do you want it?” he asked.

Roman grinned. “As sweet as you.”

“No sugar, got it,” the cashier replied, tapping something into the ordering screen.

Roman chuckled. “No, no. The simple look in your eyes warrants at least a teaspoon of sugar in you.”

The cashier rolled his eyes, correcting the order.

“You come here often?” asked Roman.

“Well, I work here. So I think I’d have to say ‘yes’,” he answered. “Anything else?”

Roman internally berated himself on the stupid question. “Yes, a croissant please.”

“For here or to go?” asked the cashier.

“I’d like to be wherever you are,” Roman replied dreamily.

The cashier let out a long-suffering sigh. “For here it is.”

The cashier walked over to the display of croissants and picked one from the platter. He put it on a plate and gave it to Roman.

“May I have your name? Or perhaps, your number?” Roman asked, taking the croissant.

The cashier put a hand to his forehead. “My name is on my nametag.”

“Ah, but that’s cheating,” said Roman, glancing down to find the name ‘Janus’ engraved on metal.

Janus rolled his eyes. “It’s Janus, now please pay for your order and sit down. Your total is $4.50.”

“As you wish,” said Roman with a wink, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his wallet. He pulled a twenty from his wallet and slid it across the counter. “Here you go.”

Janus put the ten dollar bill in the cash register and printed out the receipt. He pulled out fifteen dollars and fifty cents.

Roman took the receipt and started to walk away.

“Wait!” Janus called, stopping Roman in his tracks. He stared Roman in the eyes, holding up a ten and a five dollar bill and two quarters. “You forgot your change.”

Roman gave him a big smile. “I know. Keep it for yourself, Janus, as my Christmas gift to you. Have a day that treats you kindly, and the happiest of New Years.”

Janus blushed, pocketing the money. Roman’s face turned up in satisfaction. He may not get a date, but he could still make a cute guy happy.

---

Roman finished his coffee and croissant. He got up and placed his mug and plate in a bin for dirty dishes. He walked back over to his table and gathered his stuff, turning to leave the coffeeshop.

Roman felt someone tap his shoulder. He turned around.

Roman grinned when he spotted Janus.

“What can I do for you?” Roman asked kindly, seeing that Janus was no longer in his apron.

“I’m...not sure I can take this money,” said Janus, gesturing to his pocket. “I feel kind of bad about it, ‘specially ‘cause I was pretty curt with you...”

Roman waved him off. “Don’t worry about it! I always get into a giving mood during Christmas, and I understand your attitude.”

Janus grumbled incoherently, unsatisfied.

“Besides, who was I to flirt with a tired barista,” said Roman with a laugh. “Either way, I do hope your Christmas is merry.” Roman noticed the unsure look on Janus’s face. “But, if you feel bad about taking my money...you could let me take you to lunch at that new pizza place I’ve wanted to try.”

"You just ate,” said Janus pointedly.

“Only a croissant!” Roman protested. “Which is just breakfast. I imagine you haven’t had lunch either.”

“I haven’t,” Janus admitted.

Roman smiled. He offered him his arm.

Janus took it hesitantly. “Okay. But I’m buying, since you already gave me money.”

Roman narrowed his eyes at him. “I won’t agree to that yet, mi querido.”

Janus laughed quietly, concealing a blush. “I know how to argue. Lead the way, um-”

Roman gasped. “How rude of me! I deeply apologize, mi corazón. My name is Roman.”

“Lead the way then, Roman.”

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @justanotherhumanstuff @neo-neo-neo @fander-fic-recs

Sweet Christmas fluff to break up the angst. I actually wrote this yesterday so this was the thing that got me in the holiday spirit (finally)! Merry Christmas if you celebrate it, and happy December to all! Fluffy Roceit is something we all need. I hope you liked it!

#roceit #ts fanfic #roman sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #coffeeshop au #romantic roceit #fic #prompt #somehow-i-got-an-account #christmas fic

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beware-of-you-98 · 4 years

Note

YES I live for your jemily headcanons okok. I could probably think of endless prompts, but feeling soft for some Paris ones??

🥺🥺 AHH YES I LIVE FOR JJxEMILY IN PARIS!!! I did a mix of both angsty and soft prompts but enjoy!!

The first time they’re both in Paris together is obviously when Emily is hiding from Doyle and “dead”

They both feel way too many [negative] emotions to really enjoy their time together in the “city of love”

They never leave their hotel, and even when they move to a temporary house, they still never leave

Emily is honestly terrified

Logically, she knows, knows Doyle can’t find her—he has no need to because she’s supposedly dead

She knows JJ and Hotch only did this to protect her and that they wouldn’t let anything happen to her

But she clings to the “what if’s”

She feels so fucking guilty

Her mind keeps replaying what she could have done differently

How she could have fought harder against Doyle

How she could have stopped herself from getting distracted

How she could have done anything to prevent so many people she cares about from hurting

JJ beats herself up constantly over the entire situation

She wishes she could go back in time and grow a fucking backbone and stand up to Strauss

She wishes she could have stayed because she would have known something was wrong (she always knows when it comes to Emily)

She wishes she responded faster, wishes she could have gone down that hallway quicker and just maybe none of this would have happened

She feels awful for having to lie to everyone, even if it’s better for them in the end

They both just have so many regrets and guilt on their consciences

Emily wakes up every single night from vivid nightmares, her body trembling and throat raw from her screaming

JJ is there every single time to hold her, to cradle her in her arms and remind Emily that she’s here

Emily always falls asleep in JJ’s arms

They comfort each other, try not to think about the short time they have together

The first time they make love happens in Paris

(They both end up crying and clinging desperately to each other because they genuinely don’t know if they’ll ever see each other again)

It feels like a permanent goodbye

They don’t visit Paris for a long time after Emily comes back

A really long time

In fact, they finally go back for their five year wedding anniversary, nearly fifteen years later

JJ is the one that surprises Emily with a pair of tickets to Paris

It’s weird coming back

Like really, really weird

They both end up back at the same café they parted ways from all those years ago

They both just freeze on the opposite side of the road and stare at it

Eventually, Emily gently tugs JJ over and into the building

They get the same order they had all those years ago: two coffees and a chocolate croissant to split

Both the coffee and the pastry remain on the table untouched as they sit there in silence

It’s awkward because the only memories flooding both their minds are the bad ones

JJ finally speaks and says “What happened here before is in the past. This is now. Let’s make new, happier memories of this place.”

She breaks off a piece of the croissant and holds it to Emily’s lips as an offering

(Emily kisses JJ’s fingers as she accepts the pastry and the blonde’s offer)

Things are a lot better after that

Emily tells JJ funny stories from her childhood when she briefly lived in the city

Both of them are smiling and laughing and genuinely enjoying themselves

Emily has to stop to catch her breath in the middle of one of her stories because, god, JJ is beautiful

(Her eyes are shining in delight, her expression glowing and lips spread into a wide grin)

(The sunlight makes her skin almost appear to be glowing; JJ actually looks like an ethereal being and it makes Emily’s heart clench in the best of ways)

JJ smiles and shyly asks what’s wrong

Emily just beams and leans in and gives her the softest, sweetest kiss

“Nothing. I just love you. A lot.”

They take a walk around the canals, JJ’s head resting on Emily’s shoulder, their hands intertwined and swinging loosely between them

They take a nighttime boat tour (Emily totally only caves because JJ gives her the puppy eyes—but she enjoys the romantic ride with her ride nonetheless)

They go back to their hotel that night and make love for hours and it’s so incredibly different from last time

They cry once but only because they’re both so overwhelmed with happiness and love for each other

Their week is spent traveling all over the city and the surrounding countryside

They go to a few of the best restaurants in the world for dinners

Afterwards, they walk around the city hand in hand, just enjoying each other’s presence

As cliche as it sounds, JJ’s favorite monument is the Eiffel Tower

She and Emily climb it in the early morning hours and watch the sun rise over the city

Emily likes the obscure art museums littered around the city (the Louvre is way too busy and way too overrated in her opinion)

(They do stop by a day before they leave to show Henry and Michael the Mona Lisa over a Skype call [Henry thinks it’s cool because he’s an aspiring little artist; Michael is just happy to see his moms])

They bring back little gifts for their boys and everyone on the team and a whole new set of happy memories of the [reclaimed] city of love

:,) it’s what they deserve!!

#criminals minds #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #jj x emily #emily x jj #jemily #soft jemily headcanons #jemily fluff 🥺#hhh sorry this took me so long college is kicking my ass #I also accidentally deleted this the first time I wrote these so I did it smart this time and wrote this in my notes app #so even if I do accidentally delete I still have it #and that’s on one braincell

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macaronsforchat · 4 years

Text

Ladynoir July Day 11 - Comfort

@ladynoirjuly2020

read on ao3!

Ladybug could tell what face he would be wearing by the shape of his shoulders against the orange of the sky. She tried to land behind him as softly as possible, but his ears were already turned towards her even though they’d pushed themselves low against his hair.

“Hey, kitty,” she spoke softly, watching him stand up from where he was crouched at the edge of the roof. It was a beautiful view, but she doubted that he’d been thinking about anything else but //that.

Chat turned to face her, and she saw that her guess was right. His eyebrows were pressed down into hard lines, his lips were in a straight but deep frown, and he looked like he’d been crying. It felt like pieces of her heart were being ripped from her chest every time she saw him that way, but she knew that if he could feel any other emotion, he would.

The day they’d found out Hawkmoth’s identity was undoubtedly the worst day of Adrien’s life, and what made it worse was that they didn’t know how to stop him yet. They needed a plan, and a plan that would work needed time and focus.

But Marinette knew that planning wasn’t what Adrien needed at the moment. He needed time, but he also needed a friend.

Ladybug walked towards her partner, hugging him gently and not being surprised when he didn’t hug her back. She wished more than anything that she could take even a fraction of his hurt from him, but since she couldn’t, she chose to be there for him.

She’d invited him out that night to make sure that he was doing alright and because she knew that he was almost never at his house at night. She hoped to take his mind off everything even if it was only for a mere moment.

“Any trouble today?” she asked as she pulled away, seeing that his dull eyes were boring into her.

“No,” he almost whispered, his lips barely moving. She gave him a small smile, pressing a hand to his cheek tentatively.

“Thank you for coming,” she spoke, taking her hand away. Sometimes he hated being touched by anyone, but other times all he wanted was to be held. She could tell that in that moment it was the former, and she didn’t want to push his boundaries.

“Is there anything you wanna do?” she asked, stepping away and giving him his space. He looked up at her and furrowed his brow more, signalling that her question wasn’t a very thought one.

“Sorry, uh,” she said, glancing away to think. She’d been so worried about him that she’d forgotten to plan something.

“You choose, please,” he spoke quietly, and she eyed him, glad that she was able to hear his voice. He didn’t say too much anymore, but when he did, it was music to her ears even if it was angry, bitter words that came out.

“Okay,” she smiled, pursing her lips as she ran through a list of things that they could do. She thought of a joke about robbing a bank, but she knew it wouldn’t have any affect on him.

“Have you eaten today?” she wondered, seeing the shift in his eyes as he looked away and knowing that he hadn’t.

“Can we get something to eat?” she asked, tilting her head a little and giving him a sweet smile so as to try and reduce the chances of him refusing. He gave her a weak shrug, and she nodded, readying her yo-yo. Luckily, they weren’t too far from the bakery.

Before she moved to jump, she glanced back at him.

“Are you okay to follow?” She’d noticed him getting skinnier than he already was, and she didn’t want him to hurt himself. He let out an exasperated sigh, his eyes narrowing.

“You don’t have to baby me Marinette,” he said hoarsely. She blinked at him, knowing better than to be offended or put off. She wouldn’t have half the amount of emotional control as him if she were in his situation.

It surprised her when he sighed again, dropping his head a little.

“Sorry,” he breathed out, and she smiled, shaking her head when he lifted his eyes back to her.

“No worries, chaton,” she replied, moving for him to follow. She heard him trail behind her as she made her way to the bakery, seeing that it was nearly closing time. The sun had already set, the streetlamps flickering on as she dropped towards the ground.

Landing just in front of the door, she pulled it open and smiled to herself when Chat followed her in without hesitation. She remembered him telling her that he always felt at home there, and she hoped that he would feel that again.

“Ladybug?” Sabine asked in disbelief, holding her heart. Marinette smiled behind her mask, seeing her dad walk up to the register and place a hand on his wife’s shoulder.

“Hello,” Ladybug smiled, giving them a polite wave. “Sorry to come in just before closing time.” Sabine waved her off as Tom wiped his hands on his apron, beginning to walk towards Chat with a cookie in his hand.

“How are you doing, son?” he asked, clapping a hand on Chat’s shoulder and shaking him a little. His eyes went wide, but Ladybug tried not to watch him too closely.

“Fine, s-sir,” he answered, sounding a little more normal as her dad offered him the cookie and explained how it was fresh out of the oven. She smiled, walking over to Sabine.

“Can I get a few more of those cookies, some passionfruit macarons, and some chocolate croissants?” she asked, seeing Sabine flash a smile before slipping a plastic glove onto her hand.

“Sure, sweetheart,” she said warmly, and Ladybug giggled quietly to herself, loving to see her mom act so sweet.

As she waited for her pastries, she glanced back at her dad and Chat, seeing that Tom was handing her partner a small brown bag with the bakery’s logo on it. He said something under his breath to Chat, and she watched him glance at her briefly and then back at her dad. It was almost a shock to see a blush rise into his cheeks. She hadn’t seen that sight in what felt like years.

But when she watched his lips curl up into a small smile, she thought that maybe she was the smartest person in the world for thinking to bring Chat there. She felt her heart racing and wondered if there was anything she loved more than seeing him smile.

Sabine got her attention again, refusing to let her pay and sending her back over to Chat. Following closely behind, her mother leaned over and patted Chat’s cheek.

“Stop by anytime, honey. We’re always baking something, and we’re always happy to share,” she told him, and Ladybug watched some of the despair leave his eyes.

“Thank you,” he replied before the two of them left the bakery. Waving back to her parents, they jumped up onto the nearest roof with their treats, and Ladybug recognized it as the spot where Chat Noir had set up the candlelit dinner for her. Looking at her partner, she could tell that he knew the spot as well, but he didn’t meet her eyes.

“Thanks for coming in with me,” she said to break the silence, sitting herself down next to where he stood and watching him lower himself into the spot next to her. She busied herself with taking a chocolate chip cookie from her bag, moving to take a bite of it when she realized that Chat was holding the bag he’d been given towards her.

“What’s this?” she asked, taking it from him and looking up for an explanation. He watched her for a moment and then looked away, a familiar but rare glow appearing in his eyes.

“Mr. Dupain said that, uh,” he started, pausing to clear his throat and try again. “He said that you order one of those every time you stop by and that if I gave it to you, you’d fall in love with me,” he told her. She took a second to breathe in the color of his voice. She hadn’t heard him say that much in weeks, and to hear such sweet words with such a warm tone was almost enough to bring her to tears.

All she could do was laugh a little, opening the bag and seeing a single strawberry danish waiting for her. It was her second favorite pastry from her parent’s bakery, but she never ordered her true favorite for secret identity’s sake.

“Thank you,” she breathed out happily, looking up to another gift as he smiled down at her.

“Maybe it’s a good thing that he doesn’t know I already love you,” she chuckled, taking the treat out of the bag carefully. “Because these are really good.” She watched another blush move onto his cheeks, and she couldn’t help the smile that had been glued to hers.

“You know that, right?” she asked after she watched him look away from her. Their eyes met once more, and he looked slightly confused. “That I love you,” she clarified, tilting her head. He blinked at her quietly, taking in a deep breath before nodding and letting another smile shine through.

“I love you too,” he replied gently, making her heart throb against her ribs. She basked in his smile for as long as she could before looking away and breaking the danish in half. She offered it to him, and he took it, biting into it immediately.

They ate in comfortable silence, and when everything had been eaten, she realized that she probably could have gotten him some healthier food. She stared up at the moon and made a note in her head to take him some soup in the morning, but her thoughts were interrupted.

“Thank you,” he spoke unexpectedly, drawing her eyes to him. He was already looking at her, and she smiled. “For making me feel better.” She smiled more, nodding.

“That’s what I’m here for,” she told him, leaning close to him and pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. She hoped that she hadn’t made him uncomfortable, but when he pulled away, she saw him smiling again and thought that maybe she really was extra lucky.

“Yeah,” he sighed, his smile coloring his voice in a bright tone. “And it works every time.” Her heart jumped at that, and she couldn’t help but let out a relieved laugh.

Everything would be okay.

~~~~~

poor little sad boy ahhhhh

thank you all for reading! i had a lot of fun writing this one!

#ladynoirjuly2020 #ladynoirjuly #ladynoir july #ladynoir #ladybug #chat noir #miraculous ladybug #my writing #ml fic #comfort #hawkmoth reveal #post reveal #established relationship #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #i want a macaron now

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paintingraves · 4 years

Text

A purr-fect day

Went to OPT prompts and received a prompt about Percival being swarmed by a pack of kittens so here - have this very soft thing ❤️

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It’s Percival Graves’ birthday.

The man himself doesn’t seem to care, but every single one of his Aurors know about it. So does Newt, who's been living in a rented flat in New York for a few months now, working in an official capacity as a consultant for the MACUSA. They are trying to reform some of their laws about magical creatures: it is a long, tedious process -- one that sets back the publication of his second book by months -- but it’s important and Newt really feels like he is making a difference.

His routine these days is usually the same. Newt wakes up at the crack of dawn and tends to his creatures; then he gets dressed and drops by Jacob’s bakery on his way to work in order to grab coffee and a delicious pastry. His favourite at the moment is a croissant-like delicacy filled with warm chocolate. Newt always wolfs it down like he hasn’t eaten in three days and licks his fingers clean afterwards, unashamed.

He steps into MACUSA through the magical revolving door and heads to the Aurors’ bullpen, where his office and work await him. They chatter amicably between colleagues until 8 am, at which point Director Percival Graves makes his grand entrance -- cup of bitter black coffee in his hand and dark circles under his eyes. He gives them a debriefing as he sips his drink. When he's done they get to work, and Graves heads down to his own office. He always passes by Newt when he does, and Newt always gets to appreciate the heady smell of his cologne on the way.

(He… may or may not have a bit of a thing for Percival Graves. So what? Almost everyone here does, apparently, because their director is just that striking. Newt is no different.)

But today is a special day, and things take a different turn.

Newt stills drops by Jacob’s bakery, but he’s earlier than usual. Instead of buying only one pastry, he buys an assortment of them, trying to pick ones he thinks Percival would like.

All his colleagues are present at the office as early as 7 am. Newt steps into the room as they’re starting to clear the tables free of paperwork, ink, quills, books and other bulky things to rearrange them in a sort of semi-circle to serve as a buffet.

Madeleine uses her wand to unfold a large white tablecloth and everyone helps set the table: there's pots of coffee, warm chocolate and tea; Newt brought pastries, John’s baked an apple pie, and Esther made a fruit salad. Soon enough, with everyone’s contributions, the table is full of food and drink aplenty. Diana is blowing up balloons while Geralt hangs a large ‘happy birthday’ banner across the room.

There's one table reserved for gifts. Newt can guess what most people could have bought: perhaps a new tie or a book, a good bottle of wine, etc. Newt himself has gotten Percival an exotic plant, whose flowers release a calming scent that has the same effect on humans as a cat purring. He hopes Percival will like it.

It’s nearly 8. They're all a bit nervous; truth be told they have no idea how Graves will react to the display. He certainly isn’t expecting it, that's for sure. Geralt said he's never known Percival to mention his birthday, much less celebrate it. But today also marks the first year the man's been back at work despite his ordeal at the hands of Grindelwald, and that deserves to be remembered. They’re just hoping he’ll be touched by the attention, and happy.

When Percival walks into the room at 8 precisely, he freezes on the doorstep. His eyes widen in surprise and alarm. He takes in the redecorated room, his hand shaking slightly around his cup of coffee. “... What is this?”

“Happy birthday, sir,” his Aurors say all at once, smiling.

Percival’s eyes widen even more. “Oh shit,” he says, coming to a realization. “It is my birthday, isn’t it? I’m… Fuck. I don’t know what to say. This… is a surprise, but...”

“You deserve it,” Diana says simply, and they all nod in agreement. “I’ll put on some music. I hope you like jazz!”

“Get you anything to drink, sir? Or eat? We got a ton of stuff here, including but not limited to John’s famous apple pie!”

“A - a slice of apple pie sounds perfect, thank you,” Percival says, still bewildered. He looks almost timid, so wrong-footed. “And coffee, please. I’m sure it’ll taste better than this brew I have.”

“Let me take your coat,” Newt offers, stepping forward. “And make yourself comfortable.”

"There’s work to do,” Percival says, even as he takes off his cream-coloured trench coat and his hat. Underneath, he wears one of his usual three-piece suits, complete with dark blue pants, a white shirt and an assorted waistcoat and tie. Everything is tailored to perfection, as per usual. Newt will honestly never get over how attractive the older man is. It doesn't help that Percival rolls up his sleeves to his elbows. "I can't stay long, but I really appreciate this, thank you…"

His words get drowned in the soft jazz music that starts playing. Everyone relaxes and starts to eat and drink, standing up, or sitting on chairs around the room; they're all happy that Percival hasn’t reacted negatively (and why would he?)

The director seems to have gotten over his shock now; he is clearly embarrassed (the tips of his ears blushing red) as well as deeply flattered, but he’s not mad.

At one point there's the opening of presents.

Percival stays sitting in his chair as they bring the wrapped gifts over to him. He thanks each Auror warmly, saying he never expected to be this spoiled, and that they shouldn't have. He makes jokes about getting old. Percival receives a brand new watch (courtesy of three of the Aurors, who put together some savings to afford it) as well as a silver hoop earring -- much to his delight and surprise. He raises an eyebrow as Geralt explains sheepishly that he’s noticed Percival’s ear was pierced, yet that he never wore such jewelry, promoting Percival to regal them with a few tales of his rebellious youth. He puts the earring on. It looks incredibly dashing, giving him a bit of a more roguish air. It's terribly, terribly attractive.

There's also a funny tie with little ducklings printed on it which Percival promises to wear the next day at work; two Sherlock Holmes books; a shiny pocket knife (for Percival never goes anywhere unarmed) and finally Newt’s plant. Newt monologues about its healing properties, as he’s wont to do, and Percival thanks him with a warm smile, telling Newt it is incredibly thoughtful. He is so polite. So sincere. So composed. Ugh. Newt wants this man quite badly. He doesn’t know how much longer he can handle this sweet torture...

The last gift Percival receives is… different. He is laughing, and he's never looked this happy in the months Newt has known him. It makes his heart swell painfully inside his chest. He wants Percival to keep smiling like that, everyday, and he wants to be the reason behind his joyous smile.

“Alright, what is this?” Percival asks as Madeleine give him a large square box. They managed to convince him to wear one of those pointy colorful birthday hat, and it is slightly askew on his head. A strand of dark hair falls into his face. Percival looks more ruffled and relaxed than they’ve ever seen him, and Newt wonders whether one of the aurors spiked his coffee with whiskey or something, because this is quite the contrast compared to the austere, severe, put together man they’re used to seeing daily.

“Open it!” Madeleine says, and Percival does - only for everyone to gasp in sheer joy at the sight of what’s inside of the box.

Kittens!

“Oh my god!” Esther squeals happily, slapping a hand over her mouth.

“So one of my cats had babies recently, and I figured this was a nice gift! Here they are!”

“I…” Percival says, at a loss as to what to do. Madeleine grins and, gently, she takes each kitten from the box and puts them in Percival’s lap, then takes the box away.

The kittens (four in total) immediately meow for attention and begin to explore their new surroundings: one of them tries to climb on Percival’s chest, digging its claws into the expensive fabric of his waistcoat; another nearly falls off Percival’s thigh except the man catches him, and the kitten fits in his big hand. Percival says ‘Hello little guy, hello’ and strokes his head with a finger so very gently.

Percival Graves and kittens. Newt thinks this might be heaven.

“They’re so tiny,” Percival murmurs in awe. “Oh no no no, where are you going? Ow, not the claws, hey, not the claws --”

Percival Graves swarmed by a pack of kittens is definitely the cutest thing Newt has ever seen. He can’t stop smiling.

Neither can Percival, apparently - his cheeks are glowing with happiness, his eyes wrinkling attractively at the corners, his face and posture open and serene. He helps one of the kittens climb up his shoulder, where it sniffs Percival’s collar curiously, and gathers the other three together in his lap, petting them. Noticing Newt’s staring, he holds one of the kittens up. “Take him.”

Esther kneels next to Percival, who gives her one of the kittens too, and she looks about to cry as she holds the tiny animal in her hands. She folds her arm and the kitten curls up in the crook of her elbow, seemingly having found a nice corner to nap in, and purrs as she scratches it behind the ears gently.

“They’re up for adoption,” Madeleine informs them, beaming. “We already have three cats, and I got a friend who adopted one from this litter, but these four are looking for a new home!”

“I’ll take one,” Esther says immediately. “My husband’s allergic but we’ll find a way to make it work. I've always wanted a cat.”

“... I can take one too,” Geralt says hesitantly. “They’re rather cute.”

“They’re adorable.”

“Percival? Ahem, sir?”

Percival had been busy making heart eyes at the kitten in his lap. “Hmm? Oh, I wish I could, but…” He sighs. “I wouldn’t have time to care for him. They deserve better than that.”

“Newt?”

Newt shakes his head. Same as Percival, he’s already got a lot of creatures to care for.

“I’ll keep asking around then,” Madeleine concludes.

Geralt takes one of the kittens. Percival gets up from his chair, his last tiny friend still perched on his shoulder like a very fluffy parrot. He brushes cat hair from his pants with little success, and walks up to Newt, who’s busy cooing at his own kitten. He’s already given it a name and everything. Oh, and she’s a female.

“This is Kiara,” he says, showing the kitten to Percival, who smiles warmly.

“Seems like she’s adopted you, uh.”

“I do so wish I could take her in,” Newt says mournfully.

“Hmm. You’ve already got a lot on your shoulders, haven't you, but I understand the sentiment.”

“You look happy,” Newt remarks.

Graves laughs. “You say that as if it’s the second coming of christ. Am I that sour and grumpy all the time?"

“Well...” Newt ducks his head and avoids the question, though he knows Graves is just teasing him. “I’m really glad you liked our little surprise party here.”

“Whose idea was it?”

“Everyone’s, really. We figured you ought to know how much we all appreciate you. You’re a very good leader, Percival, and a good man, and a good friend.”

“...Thank you,” Percival says quietly. "I do try."

“I mean that,” Newt insists. “Met a lot of politicians in my life, after all, I know what I'm talking about."

"Ah ah. While I can’t say I’ve met a lot of magizoologists in my life, I also really like working with you, Newton. You've very knowledgeable, and you are able to think outside the box. I really like that.”

Newt swallows at the compliment, his heart picking up pace, heat rising to his face. “Thanks,” he mumbles, forcing himself to look straight at the other man. Percival meets his gaze. There’s a heavy moment of silence. Time slows down as Newt’s eyes flit from Percival’s own down to his lips, and he is overcome with the urge to simply kiss the other man. Percival wets his lips too, looking up at him underneath his dark eyelashes, and he leans imperceptibly closer and Newt thinks oh fuck -- and then Madeleine steps into their intimate circle with a plate of cake to offer them some. The moment is shattered.

But… Newt didn’t dream it, right? Right?

For a moment there he saw desire reflected back in Percival��s eyes… right?

He refuses another helping of cake, but Percival does take an apple fritter and bites into it, smearing sugar across his lips. He licks them clean.

Newt wants to kiss him so badly. Again.

After an hour or so of festivities it’s time to clean up and get back to work, however reluctant they are to do so.

For the rest of the day, the balloons still hang on the walls of the aurors’ room and kittens roam free in the office. They play with bits of string or red dots that the aurors make appear on the floor with the tip of their wand.

Percival goes back to his office and keeps the pointy hat. It’s not a very productive day, work-wise, but it’s one that leaves everybody in high spirits when the evening comes, and certainly strengthens the bonds between colleagues.

Around 8, Newt prepares to leave the bullpen as well. He tidies things up on his desk and takes his suitcase, turning off the lights as he leaves. He knocks on Percival’s door and hears a rumbling ‘yes, come in’.

“Leaving for the day,” Newt says. Percival nods his assent, nose deep in paperwork. “Good night, sir.”

“Good night, Newton,” Graves says absently. He dips his quill into ink and scribbles something down. Newt sighs.

“Sir?”

“Hmm?”

“Would you - that is, would you like to grab a drink with me sometime?”

Percival pauses, looking up at him above the rim of his tortoise shell glasses. “Why?”

“B - because…” Oh bugger, he read this all wrong. A stab of fear lances through him. “Err. No, nevermind, forget I asked. I’ll just - go. I'm leaving. Yes.”

“Newt.”

“Yes?” Newt looks back at him, his palms sweating, only to be struck dumb.

Graves is smirking. He’s never seen such an expression on his face and oh, that must be what Graves looks like when he’s really flirting. Newt feels weak in the knees.

“It’d be my pleasure,” Percival purrs, and Newt makes a sound not unlike that of a startled mouse. He flushes and haltingly steps back, fiddling with the handle of his briefcase, butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

“Oh. Oh that’s. That’s good then. Great. Brilliant. Hm. Is… after work tomorrow okay for you?”

“It’s good,” Percival agrees. “Have a good evening. And Newt?”

“Y - yes?”

“Remember to breathe.” And there’s that infuriating, smug smirk again.

Newt vows to kiss it off the man’s face one day until Graves is the one struggling to remember how to breathe. He shall make Percival lose his carefully constructed composure.

“Tomorrow it is,” he repeats, straightening up. “I look forward to it.”

Graves shakes his head, as though he can’t believe he’s really doing this, but he’s still smiling.

Newt makes his way out MACUSA and back to his flat with a spring in his step, happiness and hope bubbling inside his chest.

He did it!

And Percival agreed! Holy shit. This. Is. Amazing! By Merlin - tomorrow can’t come fast enough!

#percival graves #my fic #gramander #newt scamander #hhh when i think i used to write only angst lmaoooo #fluff #this is FLUFFY

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arknights-imagines · 4 years

Text

The Sankta Sniper Trio reacting and dealing with having feelings for the Doctor

Headcanon/note format; From the perspective of the Operators

Contains: Gender neutral Doctor, Executor, Exusiai and Adnachiel

Word count: 3k in total

And so the imagines begin! I wanted to start off small, so please enjoy~

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Executor

･ The man may seem emotionless, but he was definitely not unfeeling.

･ With that being said, Executor has trouble with emotions, so chances are he won't even really understand why he's feeling the way he is. That doesn't stop it from showing, though.

･ It would be hard to spot if you're not looking for it, but the Sankta slowly starts to be seen with the Doctor more.

･ He made an extra effort to interact with the Doctor more on the daily. He'd greet the Doctor in the hallway, approach them about battle formations or mission plans, or even stops to ask them how they are occasionally.

･ Executor started getting into the habit of having the Doctor in the corner of his eye at all times. The Doctor was his boss, so their well-being mattered. The Sankta was cold, but he was a lot kinder than he stated he was.

･ If someone had to enter the Doctors' office while they're busy, they'd have to get approval from him first. If the Doctor looked tired, he'd encourage them to rest. If they were working on something important, he made himself free to help them.

･ Vermeil was the first to notice something going on with him, especially when his attention snaps to the Doctor if they happen to be nearby during their training sessions. She was a bit hesitant about it, but because no one else would, she eventually brought it up.

･ "...do you have a thing for the Doctor?"

･ Executor doesn't get what she's saying at first; it's clear by the lift of his brow when he looks at her.

･ "I'm afraid I do not understand what you mean by that."

･ After a string of huffs from Vermeil, she elaborated,

･ "Hmph. Do you, you know, like them? You have any feelings for them?"

･ Executor was quiet for a moment, pausing for longer than usual. Though, all he gave in reply was another question.

･ "That is a good question."

･ Factually speaking, it would be a likely possibility, he concluded. He wasn't good at understanding emotions, but the Sankta knew that what he was feeling was more than just respect for the Doctor.

･ Executor thought about it more after that - it wouldn't be that he didn't understand, it would more so be that he wouldn't know how to act on it - if he acted on it at all. So, he didn't; He just kept being at their side, ready when they needed him.

･ Vermeil approached him again about it some other day.

･ "So...did you tell them yet?"

"Tell who what?"

"The Doctor, that you like them."

･ He didn't argue with Vermeil claiming he didn't harbour some kind of feelings toward the Doctor, so he shook his head and told her 'no'. Executor wasn't that great at reading people, but judging by Vermeil's exasperated expression following his reply, he couldn't go on ignoring his feelings forever.

･ It would take time for him to take any action. The Doctor was supposed to just be the one he answered to; His promise to them was to complete any task assigned to him, and that was what was expected of him. Bringing emotion into missions would only complicate them. But with that said, they were kind to him, they didn't treat him like he was abnormal or otherwise. Executor couldn't just brush off the way they made him feel.

･ So, after what felt like centuries, he finally took his chance.

･ The Doctor would be alone with him in their office or on the deck, both of them in conversation. He'd stray from whatever topic they were discussing, and with his heart beating a little faster than usual, Executor spoke.

･ "I do not enjoy interacting with others because they do not understand me and I do not understand them. But, with you, Doctor, I look forward to our interactions every day. Talking with you is very interesting. I'm grateful that you do not treat me differently for the way I live."

･ The Doctor smiled, but before they could get a word in, Executor spoke again.

･ "With that being said, I'd very much enjoy having lunch or dinner with you any day you're free."

･ When he noticed Doctors' face of surprise, a small wave of anxiety came over him, and it was something he wasn't used to. Though, when they stepped closer and nodded at him with a grin, any worries he had were gone in an instant. The feeling that came over him is odd - a warmth in his chest he wasn't quite used to.

･ "I'd love that, Executor. How does tomorrow evening sound?"

･ The Sankta took a second to answer, but when he did, his words were accompanied with the smallest of smiles.

･ "I have no objections. Thank you, Doctor."

Exusiai

･ It would be hard to notice with Exusiai

･ She probably wouldn't even think too much of it, and would just think of it as admiration; Until Texas speaks up after she catches Exusiai staring at the Doctor.

･ "Do you like them?"

･ The redhead was a little surprised at Texas' straightforwardness, but it made her ponder a little.

･ "Whatta you mean? As in like like them?"

･ Texas would just stare at her a little before going back to moving cargo. "Yeah. I was asking if you have feelings for them. You don't have to answer, it's fine."

･ As curt as usual, The Lupo didn't Exusiai much time to answer, and so the redhead was left thinking about it. She did want to protect and be with the Doctor as much as possible, but could it really be a crush?

･ After that, the Doctor started occupying her mind even more.

･ She used whatever free time she had to chat with them, and while she didn't have the best attention span, when it came to the Doctor, listened intently no matter the topic. The Sankta actively tried to get the Doctor to relax with her, being as upbeat as always.

･ "Leader! Are you busy? Let's go get something to eat!! I'll buy~!"

･ "Working all the time isn't good for you, you know! Come on, let's go out and do something!!"

･ Exusiai would insist on buying the Doctor gifts and treating them out to food or even a cup of coffee whenever she can.

･ It didn't take long everyone at Penguin Logistics to pick up on the fact that something was different. Texas wouldn't say much by Croissant and Sora would pitch in lightheartedly, "You've been spoilin' the Doctor a lot, huh Exusiai?" Sora would giggle a bit at Croissants statement, "Yeah! It's almost like you have a crush on them!!"

･ Sora meant it as a joke, but the more they thought about it, the more they realized that was exactly what was going on.

･ "Wait, wait! Do you have a crush on the Doctor?"

･Exusiai was pretty open with it, though in reality she's having a little trouble figuring out what her feelings are, "A crush? Like a thing? I don't know about that, but I'd protect them until the end of the world!"

･ Her reply was a little vague, but Sora and Croissant caught on regardless. With that, they made it their mini goal to get Exusiai to ask the Doctor out.

･ "What if you wrote a song and senrade them? That would be fun!"

"Yer kidding - Exusiai doin' karaoke for the Doctor?"

"What? You don't think it's a good idea, Croissant?"

･ Exusiai decided to jump into the discussion, still being laid back about the situation.

･ "I think the best date would be a party with apple pie!!"

･ Sora would huff a bit, "Come on Exusiai, don't be evasive!! How are you gonna tell them?" Croissant added in, "Yer not going to keep it a secret forever, are ye?"

･ Judging by their tones, The Sankta knew that they expected a true, solid answer, but she couldn't give that to them; It wasn't in her nature to get so serious, and if she was honest, she didn't have a plan to tell the Doctor her feelings.

･ "Aw, thanks for looking out for me, but I think I should figure this sort of thing out on my own, right?"

･ And so, that's exactly what she does.

･ Exusiai wasn't one to stress out about things, and this time wouldn't be different. Still, she would be against acting impulsively in such a case.

･ What she did know is that she felt for the Doctor outside of her work for them, and she saw them as more than a boss, and even more than a friend.

･ For awhile, the redhead didn't act on it. She just kept hanging around the Doctor as always, wanting to spend the most time with them. Plus, it wouldn't be right to get involved with someone who was her boss, she told herself.

･ When the Doctor spent time with her, Exusiai enjoyed seeing them happy and away from work. It wasn't often they got moments without war when fighting against the Reunion. She was just happy to be able to see them relax - she truly didn't need any more than that. Why act on her feelings and risk making the Doctor uncomfortable?

･ Though, one afternoon, Texas stopped Exusiai in the hallway a little suddenly.

･ "Are you going to their office?"

･ Exusiai nodded joyfully, "Yep! I wanna go see if they're done their work so we can do something!"

･ Texas had stared at her for a few seconds, before placing one of her chocolate coated sticks in between her lips, returning to walking down the hall after saying one last thing; "You should tell them. Worst case scenario, they don't return your feelings."

･ Just like the first time, Exusiai was left to think for a little while. Though, one she was done, she walked to the Doctor's office with a new spark in her eyes.

･ "Yo, Leader! Are you there? Don't tell me you're still working~"

･ Exusiai seemed to glow once in the Doctors presence, especially when they invited her in with a grin.

･ "I'm sorry Exusiai, I can't go anywhere with you right now. Amiya gave me some paperwork to handle." The Doctor informed her apologetically, causing a small pout to form on her face.

･ "Aw, that's okay. I can totally wait for you!" She took a seat, seeming a little jittery, "But hey, leader, I was thinking."

･ Her tone was a little softer than usual, and it caused the Doctor to turn to her with rapt attention, awaiting her words carefully.

･ "You know - you're a very important person to me! I'll never ever forget you!" A beaming grin was on her lips, "So I was kind of wondering if you'd wanna go and do something special when you're not busy. You know, just the two of us! That would be cool, right?"

･ The Doctor blinked for a moment, but a grin almost as wide as Exusiai's came on their own face.

･ "Yes, that would be cool! If that's something you want to do, then let's do it Exusiai!!"

･ Exusiai lit up so much she could've rivaled the sun, "Okay~! Just me, you, and a lot of fun, leader!!" The Sankta grinned, one of the most widest smiles the Doctor had seen. "Ehehe, I can't wait!!"

Adnachiel

･ Adnachiel recognized his feelings when they arose, but he felt like acting on them had too many bad outcomes, and so, he tried his best to keep quiet about it. The Sankta told himself that a small crush wasn't a good enough reason to stir up unnecessary tension.

･ Unfortunately, he wasn't the best at hiding it. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't help but light up whenever the Doctor asked him for his assistance with fixing or repairing something, nor could he hide his enthusiasm while doing whatever task they had given him.

･ The Sankta seemed to be practically glowing when around the Doctor, smiling and giving them his rapt attention.

･ On occasion, he would even take time to walk the Doctor though every step of the repair if they had the time. This was more tedious of course, but the time Adnachiel spent talking with seemed to fill him with a bright attitude. On top of that, the Sankta seemed even happier when the Doctor expressed interest in his words and actions during repairs.

･ It didn't take long for his teammates to notice his happy, beaming behaviour around the Doctor.

･ Steward spoke up first, "Adnachiel seems very radiant when around the Doctor." With his statement came others from his teammates, all in agreement. Ansel's voice came next, "Hm. I suppose you're right. He does seem a lot more energetic around them." Then, cutting through their calm observations was Cardigans high-pitched excited voice, "You don't think- He has a crush on the Doctor?!" The girls' energy filled question was followed by an excited yell, but before she could start bouncing off the walls, Melantha cut in quietly, "Uhm, Merry, calm down. It's not good to yell so late at night."

･ However, Steward and Ansel were interested in such a possibility.

"A crush..? That would explain a lot, what do you think Steward?"

"Adnachiel does admire the Doctor very much. It's hard to tell, but I think he could have feelings for them."

･ Just as Cardigan was spewing out ideas on how to get Adnachiel and the Doctor together like rapid fire, the Sankta himself walked in.

･ In an instant, he was hit with excited yells from Cardigan that soon mixed with the pleads of her teammates asking her to calm down. Despite the voices bouncing off the walls and melding together, Adnachiel was able to pick up on why there was such a commotion;

･ "Do I…have feelings for the Doctor?"

･ His voice was a little soft, but it caused quiet to settle around the room in an instant. All the eyes of his teammates were on him, blinking and wide. Before Cardigan was about to begin yelling again, Melantha stepped in. "Uhm, sorry. We were just…wondering about it."

･ They couldn't tell what he was thinking, but under his curious expression, Adnachiel was jumping from foot to foot in anxiety.

･ Just the mention of the Doctor seemed to make his chest fill with this odd warmth. Adnachiel sighed - his feelings were undeniable at this point.

･ When he hesitantly admitted to having feelings for the Doctor, his teammates sparked with energy again - or, more so, Cardigan exploded with excitement.

･ While she gushed about the new news, the other 3 in the room spoke their mind to Adnachiel, who was admittedly a little flustered.

･ Melantha spoke first, "I think that's really nice, Adnachiel."

"You should tell them! I'm sure it'll turn out fine no matter what." Steward added in, followed by an agreeing Ansel, "Well, from what I've seen, they seem to like you too. There's no harm in telling them how you feel."

･ Their comments just seemed to multiply his timidness tenfold, but he gave a small smile. "I appreciate your thoughts, but I'm just fine by the Doctors' side. I don't need them to reciprocate my feelings."

･ They didn't want to bother him about it for very long, and the concern that Cardigan would end up breaking yet another piece of equipment caused them to turn away from him and to their energetic teammate.

･ Adnachiel lingered on the words of his teammates for a little while, but he stood by his words; acting on his feelings wasn't worth the risk, especially when his Friendly relationship with the Doctor could be ruined.

･ Though, what he didn't plan for was his teammates actively trying to get him to take the next step.

･ Even after insisting he wasn't going to tell the Doctor about his crush, Team A4 seemed to make it their goal to get Adnachiel to at least take them out somewhere.

･ Adnachiel remained against it until Cardigan piped up with a decent proposal; "You can make sweets, right? What about you give them some?"

･ The idea sparked conversation with the rest of the team, "Ah, that's not a bad idea at all." Ansel added, with Steward nodding in agreement nearby, "I think there's no harm in doing it." Quietly, Melantha's voice came last, "Uhm…I think you should do it too, but… it's just a suggestion."

･ Adnachiel went quiet for a few moments, before sighing. His team left him alone after that, moving on with their conversation, but he still thought about their words.

･ The next day, the Sankta walked into the dormitory with something small and wrapped in plastic, tied with a ribbon. Ansel piped up, curious, "Um, What did you bring, Adnachiel?"

･ Biting the inside of his cheek a little, the Sankta replied, "I made sweets for the Doctor, like you said. I hope they like them."

･ And much to his surprise, they did.

･ The Doctor accepted the gift with a smile and multiple 'thank yous'. Adnachiel couldn't really believe he was the one that made them light up like they did.

･ He kept giving them sweets, even if he was too tired by the end of the day to make them. He managed to always find time for the Doctor.

･ Though, he knew that he couldn't just keep giving them sweets to see them happy forever. It felt wrong not to tell them the truth. The Sankta was worried about what would happen if the Doctor didn't feel the same, but they had grown to be such good friends that he felt he had to tell them the truth.

･ It was a random day, the Doctor had asked him to help fix some broken medical equipment on an uneventful evening.

･ Adnachiel had it working again in no time, smiling at the thanks be received form the Doctor. But, just as they were about to leave, the Sankta spoke up.

･ "Doctor, are you free any time this week?"

･ The Doctor turned around, seeming a little surprised for a split second, but it was soon replaced with a friendly smile, "I'm free later this afternoon. Why?"

･Adnachiel took a deep breath, before speaking without nervousness, "I was wondering if you would like to take a walk with me later? You always listen to everything I have to say when I show you how I repair equipment, so I think it's only fair I give you the time to talk to me about anything you want." He paused, scanning their face for any reaction, "I would be so happy to spend some time with you."

･ The Sankta braced himself for rejection, but what came instead was a wide grin from the Doctor followed by an enthusiastic nod. "That sounds great, Adnachiel! I'd love to spend some time with you, too."

･ Adnachiel was unable to contain his smile, and he stood up straight, eyes shining.

･ "Okay, I'll look forward to it!"

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

#I don't really like this hhh #I feel like I could've done better with exusiai's #and I feel like executor was kinda ooc #I love him sm but he's a difficult character to write for so please bear with me!#arknights imagines #arknights writing #arknights #arknights fanfics #arknights executor #arknights exusiai #arknights adnachiel #arknights sankta #arknights snipers #imagines #writing #fanfic #not a request

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tpwkholland · 5 years

Text

Woman Like Me - Mob!Tom x Reader

A/N: Hi! I used to have a fanfic account here but I deactivated about a year ago. I forget my last username (lol oops) but I will be reposting work I once published (and new stuff too) on this account! I hope y’all enjoy :)

WC: 2050

Warnings: drinking, violence, blood, kissing

I always say what I'm feeling

You walked into the smoke-filled bar, the chain of your purse dangling off of your bare shoulders. Wearing a tight black dress and chunky heels, you looked like the most confident girl in the room. Honestly, that was the biggest lie. On your way here, you were shaking with palms covered in sweat. Before entering through the small bar door, you took some deep breaths, your heart going one million miles an hour. Slowly hanging your coat up on the back of your chair, you sat down on the barstool, flagging down the bartender and ordering whiskey, neat.

Tonight was all an act. In actuality, you were a shy mess who only ordered sugary margaritas but tonight you were an actress. Playing the role of a seductress, with one goal; figuring out which man would take you home. Yes, you knew that you were in danger. Hell, who wasn’t in a room full of mobsters? It was an unspoken fact that this bar was primarily used for mobsters making deals and letting loose. The thought of a man with power, enough to kill, turned you on even more.

Grabbing your glass, you downed the whiskey in one gulp. You slightly winced as the amber liquid traveled down your throat. Taking out your rouge lipstick, you reapplied the crimson pigment across your soft lips. You had a goal tonight, there was no way you weren't going to score.

I was born without a zip on my mouth

Sometimes I don't even mean it

Finally feeling the alcohol flowing through your veins, you noticed the entire room go silent as a group of tall, handsome men walk through the doors. Everyone moves out of their way to the red velvet in the center of the room, clearing it of people. Four of those strange men made their way to the corners of the bar, keeping their eyes on the one man who sat down. He was obviously fit, his jaw sharp as the blade thrown next to him on a table. The all-black suit made him look godly, running his hands through his brown gelled curls, taking a sip of his martini.

That’s him, you thought. He was the one you wanted. No one else, only him. Fiddling with the hem of your dress, you attempted to order another glass. Before you could open your mouth, two shots were slid in front of you. Raising your eyebrows at the bartender, he shrugged. “This is from that guy over there.” Pointing at the mysterious stranger, you gave him a quick smile and turned back around.

He wants me? He’s going to come to me.

Reaching into your small Louis Vuitton, you pulled out your phone and scrolled through Twitter. Before downing your second shot, you felt a tap on your shoulder. To your excitement. It was him, the sexy beast standing in front of you. Raising your eyebrows indicating him to speak, the stranger coughed, smirking at you.

“Enjoying the drinks, love?” His foreign accent took you by surprise, subconsciously scanning his figure. Simply glancing at him, he spoke again. “I’m Tom, by the way, sit with me?”

This was a question you weren't expecting. The slight imprint of a gun was sticking out along with multiple mysterious men sitting around the couch. Reminding yourself of the pepper spray and blade in your purse, you quietly accepted his offer, his large hand on the small of your back.

Oh, babe, this was just the beginning.

It takes a little while to figure me out I like my coffee with two sugars in it

Today was a big day, Tom’s 22nd birthday. The curly-haired boy was still asleep as you snuck out of bed, sneaking to the kitchen to make him breakfast. Thankfully, Tom sent his maids and security guards away from his penthouse for today, knowing the two of you would do some sinful things.

Growing up, your mom baked you a cake for breakfast. Everyone who you told about this little tradition, looked at you like you were crazy. You had a sweet tooth, and today you were going to get something more than cake for dessert. Taking out all the bowls from the stained wooden cabinets, you began measuring and pouring out ingredients into each bowl. While you were scanning the fridge for eggs, a strong pair of arms wrapped around your waist. Blushing, you felt Tom rest his head upon your shoulder, he slowly kissed your exposed neck. You reminded yourself of the task at hand, you gently shoved Tom away and went back to cracking eggs. “Have anything to say, babe?” Suggestively wiggling his eyebrows, Tom leaned up against the fridge.

Strutting over to him, you wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss him, fingers entailed in his silky curls. “Happy birthday baby,” you murmured in between kisses.

Breaking the kiss, you looked deep into Tom’s eyes. The light hit his eyes so perfectly, honey colored specks hidden behind his luscious lashes. The timer of the oven snapped you out of your daze, ripping you from Tom and sliding the cake pan into the oven.

Shaking your head, you urged Tom to return to bed “Go back to bed, you worked all day for the past two weeks.”

Tom pouted, creasing his forehead, looking up at you with puppy dog eyes.

“C’mon, this princess needs his beauty sleep.”

Shooting you a joking glare, Tom shuffled back to his bedroom. Within an hour, you brought a creamy iced chocolate cake to Tom who was watching the news. Three candles lit upon the cake, you held it in front of Tommy’s face and began singing for him.

Letting out a light chuckle, Tom opened his mouth, “Cake for breakfast? Isn’t a little too early for this, love?” Rolling your eyes, you reassured him. “My mom did this for me every birthday, now it's your turn.” After your last breath, Tom harshly blew out the candles, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek. Setting the cake on his nightstand, Tom gently pushed you down onto the mattress. His shirtless form was above you, making you begin to clench your thighs. Tom began pressing open mouthed kisses down your stomach, till his head hung over your core. “The cake is amazing love, but it's time for my treat.”

High heels and my jewelry dripping Drink and I get all fired up (hey, hey, hey)

You picked up a small eyeshadow brush, dipping the soft bristles into a light white pigment. Studying your form in the mirror, you smiled. Glowing in a silk pink robe, your makeup was almost complete and your hair looked stunning. Swept to the side and gently braided you looked perfect. Tom had an important business dinner tonight, and as his good luck charm, you attended. Adding the final touches to your makeup, you slipped into a long, form-fitting red dress paired with nude Louis Vuitton's gifted to you by Tom. Smiling at a guard waiting out of your bedroom, you made your way down the stairs to the parlor. Tom was deep in conversation with his best friend, Harrison. Tom flashed a bright smile once he noticed you, jaw drop. Tonight, you looked ravishing.

“My, my what do we have here, kitten?”

Pulling him into a passionate kiss, Tom got handsy and began playing with the zipper of your dress. Across the room, Harrison coughed, looking uncomfortable. “Sorry mate, I have to give (Y/n) a gift.”

Rolling his eyes, Harrison said, “Alright, but he quick yeah? And keep it down.”

“It’s not that kind of gift you div! Get your head out of the gutter.”

Shaking his head, Haz grabbed his gun sitting upon your coffee table, sliding it into his pocket and walking outside.

Tom grabbed your hand, leading you to one of the guest rooms. “Close your eyes, babydoll.” Trusting him, you shut your eyes, suddenly feeling cold metal resting upon your collarbone. Peeking open your eyes and glancing in the mirror, your jaw dropped. Diamonds, emeralds, sapphires, and rubies sparkled in the light, making you look more radiant. “Tommy, I love it, thank you.”

Smiling at you, he kissed behind your neck, murmuring sweet nothings. A knock at the door, made Tom stick his head up, instantly grabbing the gun in his jacket. Another one of Tom’s men stuck his head through the doorway, alerting the two of you the limousine was ready. Grabbing your hand, Tom led you out of the penthouse, pinching your ass before sliding into the vehicle.

You looked good tonight, and everyone knew it.

I made a few mistakes, I regret it nightly I broke a couple hearts that I wear on my sleeve

You sprinted out of the office building, vomit erupting from your throat onto the rainy concrete. Holy shit. Everything that happened in the past ten minutes was a blur. Tom was standing, handsome as ever, holding a gun to a man’s head.

Boom.

Gunshots erupted, within seconds, Tom’s victim was covered in blood and laying on the ground. With no reaction, Tom set his gun down and ordered his men to get rid of the body. The body, like this, wasn't a human. Fuck, you knew this was wrong. You never saw Tom hurt anyone, besides punching the obnoxious men hitting on you or screaming at his men. But not kill, not with a gun. You knew what Tom did for a living, but it wasn't really real unless you saw it. At that moment, everything has changed. Slapping your hand across your mouth, you let out a shriek and headed for the exits.

You didn't mean to see this. Your intentions were pure, salads and croissants you brought so Tom and you could have lunch together. Harrison said he was busy in a meeting, but he always stops meetings for you. But this wasn't a meeting. As you screamed, Harrison remembered what Tom was actually doing, and flew out of his office to Tom’s.

“Fucking shit, fucking hell Haz! You let her see this?” Tom’s voice yelled louder and more stern than ever before, leaving Harrison speechless. Tom noticed the side door close, and he headed in the direction. His heart broke when he saw you sitting out in the downpour, surrounded by vomit and tears. Hearing footsteps behind you, you looked up and saw Tom running towards you. He wrapped his arms around you, cradling you during your sobs. Everything was too much right now, the only person you wanted at the moment was your Tommy.

“It was s-so scary, you scared me.” Sobbing into Tom’s shoulder, he hugged you tighter than ever before.

“I know princess, I know. I'm so sorry, never again, yeah? Never again”

Still I wonder, could you fall for a woman like me (a woman)

Tom’s leg was bouncing under the wooden table, rattling the dishes. Raising an eyebrow, “Are you okay Tommy?”

He nodded yes, taking a gulp of his red wine. Tonight was your fifth anniversary of dating, and by the end of tonight, he hoped you would officially be his fiancé. Shrugging it off, you continued to eat your salad. The dinner was silent on Tom’s part, you were rambling about your sister opening up her bakery. Suddenly, Tom stood up and made his way over to you. Without warning, he got down on one knee, “(Y/n), I’ve been in love with you ever since that night where you wore that black dress I like. I don't think I’d ever be able to love without you, see the world differently. God, you’re the definition of a woman, something no one can buy. Love, will you please marry me?”

One hand holding Tom’s while the other was covering your mouth, eyes shiny with tears. Not being able to get a word out, you nodded your head furiously, letting out choked sobs and “Yes, yes, yes, a million times yes!”

Sliding the large diamond onto your finger, Tom picked you up and swung you around, pulling in for a passionate kiss. His rough voice echoed in your ear, “You and me baby, forever.”

Every night, Tom thanked God for a woman like you.

____________________________

hahaha I hope this wasn’t too bad; I wrote this last year

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light-on-the-riverbed · 4 years

Text

Pics or it didn’t happen

Baz

Thank Merlin uni ends at 12:30 pm, at Waterford we had 6 hours of class, that's not even counting the hours we had to spend practicing our spells and elocution (not that I needed much practice in the later years). Living among NormaIs has not been as terribly boring as I thought it was going to be. I’ve always taken Normal's words for granted, they speak the words and we make them magic. The phrase I've taken a liking to is "Pics or it didn't happen". Not because it sounds nice (I really wish they said something more clever) but because with the right emphasis you can get a perfect picture of what you are seeing right onto your phone. Thanks to that spell my camera roll is now filled with candids of Simon. Simon laughing, Simon with a messy bed head, Simon just being alive. Every day with him feels amazing even the mundane things like getting groceries or hanging out at his apartment. Almost as if Simon could hear me thinking about him, my phone lights up with his name.

4 new messages Simon Snow

My class is almost done!!!

Friday!

Still on for board games

and snacks with Penny?

Yes, Simon, I haven't forgotten

Did you want me to pick up anything

Butter and Cherries

Penny and I been trying to

figure out Chef's recipe

I think we got it >-<

Ah yes, but this time I'm trying them last

My mouth still tastes salty from last time

And I keep making sure to check that

my tongue is there every so often

Salt and sugar look the same!!!

See you soon Bae ;)

You know I hate Normal pet names

You’ll pay for it when I get there -__-

Simon

We've been at the flat for almost two months now and I'm starting to get a good routine. Some days it reminds me of my Normal summers in the homes but in a happy way. At least I think I’m happy (I don’t think it should be this hard to tell) Baz is over a lot more than Penny would like but I think they are growing on each other (though neither of them will admit it). They love to debate the most frivolous topics and I love listening to them, most of the time it’s about which language has the best whatever. I never pay enough attention to know the exact topic. I just love that they had so much passion for something so mundane. Baz gets this thoughtful faraway look on his face whenever he is thinking hard about what Penny is saying and I have to stop myself from kissing his nose to get rid of it. Though one time I didn't stop myself and Baz actually stuttered (I never thought I’d see the day) and he called me Simon (well yelled), which made me burst out laughing. Penny pretended to disapprove but I could see her eyes shining with amusement.

Most weekends we will all hang out together and take at least a couple of hours away from uni work. Penny and I have taken to baking as a way to spend time together and destress after the busy week of class. I love baking anything that has a ton of butter. I've finally managed to get a decent croissant (they're not perfect but you can tell what they are now). Then there was that incident with the Salty Scones, Baz took a bite and suddenly his eyes were red and crying and he was spitting out the scone and wiping his tongue. Penny panicked and spelled Baz with “Cat got your tongue” but that just made him mute, which led to an impromptu game of charades (a couple of curses might have been involved). Penny finally got him to start speaking by saying his name three times with Magic. He still watches us bake, even after that incident, though he still refuses to try anything first. Baz acts like he is too posh to help us bake (well his actual words were I don't want to get flour on my clothes) but secretly I think he just enjoys watching Penny and I bake as much as I love watching him debate.

Penny

I’ll never admit it out loud but I genuinely like it when Baz Comes over. He is one of the few people who will explore a topic (debate, whatever) with me and legitimately care. Simon also seems to glow around him it's almost as if he can breathe better around Baz. I'm happy that Simon gets to be this happy, I never thought I would see the day. Of course, I still have to act indignant every time they start to get a bit too sweet with one another because I do have my limits of witnessing their PDA. I hear the door open and Baz comes in lugging a couple bags of groceries and an overnight bag. Baz has a spare key for emergencies but honestly, it’s so he can let himself in without having to knock (he’s over often enough that it would be annoying to have to open the door every time).

“Don’t lock the door behind you”, I say as he takes off his shoes and coat and gets comfortable on a barstool. I look pointedly at the table, “Simon forgot something this morning.”

“Oh Simon, he’d forget his head if it wasn’t screwed on,” Baz said with a soft smile.

“Do you want some tea while we wait for Simon?”

“I could use a cup it’s bloody freezing outside.”

“Well you know where we keep the tea and the kettle is in the wash, I’ll be nice and get a couple of biscuits together.”

“Ever the gracious host Bunce,” Baz teased.

“Hey getting groceries is hard work! Especially with how cold it is now!”

“You probably spelled them home!”

“Well yes, but I still had to go to the store.”

"Fine but the presentation of those biscuits better be sublime!"

"As if the Queen herself was coming, oh wait," I say cheekily.

Baz shoots me a look but continues filling the kettle. I go into the pantry and grab Baz's favorite biscuits and start arranging them deliberately and delicately while smiling at Baz. He rolls his eyes at me but chuckles, over the last few months he's felt more like a brother than even PremaI ever did.

"So when is Simon getting here?'' Baz asks.

“He shouldn't be long, but he wanted to play a new game so he was going to pick up a game at the shop after class."

Simon

I'm rubbish at directions, it drives Baz and Penny mad, but I managed to buy Runes and Regulations (Think American HOA meets the Families). I thought Penny and Baz would get a kick out of it. I was running a bit later than I wanted but I finally recognized the streets! (Thank Merlin!). I trekked up 3 flights of stairs (they seem to get longer every time.) and as I got to our floor I could hear Penny and Baz arguing through the door.

''How is it possible you only just learned to make a decent cup of tea you're British!''

"I've away just used Magic, or the maid would make it.''

"But Baz you're British, it's blasphemous!”

“I didn't think to do it myself until Simon started doing it, now I find it relaxing.”

“I heard my name all good things I hope,” I said walking in through the door.

Suddenly Baz lunged at my neck startling me,

“Baz, bloody hell you almost made me piss my trousers.”

He plants a kiss on one of the moles on my neck, (sometimes I think the only reason he loves me is because of my moles).

“I told you I’d make you pay for that, Bae,” he said with a smirk.

“Sorry my love, my heart, my soul, my other half.” I teased him.

“I live here too remember, a greeting would be nice."

“Hi, Penny!” I say hugging her extra tightly.

“Never mind, I give, go snog Baz,” said Penny trying to wiggle free.

“I can be bribed with Sour Cherry Scones.”

“Simon I already promised I’d help you make them, now let go."

I let her go and poured myself a cup of nice warm tea.

“Let me get warm first, I may have gotten a bit lost and now I can't feel anything.”

Baz

I sit at one of the barstools and watch Penny and Simon meticulously measure each ingredient. I like the excuse to look at Simon without him being self-conscious, he’s so relaxed and shiny from how much he beams with happiness. “Pics or it didn’t happen,” I say under my breath.

“What was that?” Simon asks.

“You’ve got flour on your nose,” I tease him

As he goes to wipe his nose he leaves even more flour on it. Penny raises her eyebrows, amused, but says nothing.

“Perfect,” I tell him and in that moment he is.

Author’s Note: Gift for @helplesshobo for the @coexchange

#carry on exchange #july 2020 #carry on #wayward son #simon snow #baz pitch #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #rainbow rowell

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minah-delacroix · 4 years

Text

At any price (Part IV)

Universe: Dynasty AU

Characters: Minah, Sungjae, Tyler, Tara, Ashleigh, Daniel, Lucas

Word count: 4,3 k

The blind spot

“The Lee Corp gift strategists are on their way, should I set them up in the study room?” Lucas, Tyler’s very handsome mentee, said as the two of them walked into the golden room on the second floor of the Lee Manor. It was just another morning at the Lee’s, and Lucas ever so helpful was running through Tyler’s day’s schedule. Coming from one of the richest families in town, Lucas Zhang was surely one of a kind. He possessed the killing looks of a pop star —or at least that was how Jane described him to anyone willing to listen—, the good manners of the only son of a very traditional, old money Asian family and the ability to memorize Tyler’s schedule by heart and put up with his oftentimes ridiculous demands.

“Please, do,” Tyler said, practically snatching the cup of coffee one of the maids was about to serve to Lucas before sitting at the head of the curved glass table where Tara usually hosted her reading club soirées, but that had been set up for yet another majestic breakfast that morning.

Living with the Lee siblings was quite an experience and despite having spent nearly a month under the same roof, Minah was not used to their extravagant way of living yet. Even for someone like her who’d grown up surrounded by otherworldly luxury and wealth, some of Tyler’s habits seemed over the top at the very least. Minah had uselessly tried to convince herself that having her clothes washed and ironed with lavender water imported exclusively from Provence for that purpose or having breakfast at different sections of the house every day were just little quirks, but some of the house’s codes made her frankly uncomfortable. Having Tyler’s maids following her around and offering to perform even the most common and simplest of the tasks was one of them. She still recalled the time one of the housemaids offered to undress her and brush her hair before taking a bath. According to Tara, it was just the royal pampering they had been trained to give, but Minah still found it odd. Royal court training or not, she didn’t want any woman touching her intimately.

Then there was the excessive food and the grand buffets each meal turned into. Minah herself was not too much of a foodie, so she considered the exaggerated amount of fine cuisine a waste of resources. That morning was no particularly different and a spread of breakfast classics laid out on the table: exotic fineries like British tea mixes Minah had never heard of before, macarons from Tyler’s personal patissier, small cakes with the Lee family’s coat of arms —two dragons intertwined by a cross flory over a per saltire field—, silver dollar pancakes with red fruits, toasted English muffins, four different types of yogurt, you name it.

“Good morning, Miss Delacroix” Minah couldn’t help but smile that little satisfied grin of hers she reserved for men of his kind when Lucas sat across the table, bowing at her the slightest bit. Breakfast had suddenly become ten times more fulfilling with a man as beautiful around.

“Did you sleep well, darling?” Tyler cleared his throat, directing a fleeting, charming smile at Minah, who sat to his right dressed in a luxurious champagne peignoir that hugged every curve of her body. Then he eyed Lucas, pointing at the iPad with a very detailed schedule glowing on its screen.

“After the meeting with the-“ Whatever Lucas was planning to say, it was disrupted by his phone loudly ringing in the pocket of his Anderson & Sheppard jacket. He picked the call and almost immediately mouthed a “they’re here” to Tyler. Lucas pushed the chair back and stood up excusing himself with Minah with another bow before disappearing through the arched entrance.

“Is Mr. Choi up yet?” Tyler ignored the little pout Minah’s lip stuck out in and asked to no one in particular, though if Minah had to guess, he was talking to Mrs. Chu, his elderly Singaporean nanny.

“I’m afraid not” She replied, barely looking up from her phone. She was lounging on a chaise long, focused on her favorite mobile game. “He said he needed to catch up on his sleep,” She said before muttering to herself “As though he didn’t sleep enough already”.

“Well, please let him know I’ll be in the study room with the gift strategists in case he needs anything” Tyler reached to grab a pitcher of orange juice, but one of the maids standing nearby pounced forward to serve him.

“Gift strategists?” Minah asked, blowing softly on the surface of her cup of pine nut and apricot tea.

“Gifts for our clients” Tyler replied naturally “I mean, my family company’s” he corrected himself as the maid placed a bowl of fruit and greek yogurt in front of him “We are sponsoring The Royal Exchange's annual tree lighting ceremony this year. I thought we’d hand the gifts there-” He trailed off, a slightly concerned expression of disbelief crossed his face “Don’t tell me, you forgot the year-end business presents for our company”

Minah shook her head fervently although Tyler was not mistaken. With the stress of dealing with her family and her mind occupied by thoughts of Sungjae, she’d completely forgot about the business presents she was supposed to prepare. “What do you take me for?” She chuckled “Of course Maison Envoûté has something in the works."

“Do I get one of these gifts too?” Daniel Choi swept into the impromptu breakfast room and sat down across from Minah, admiring the food waiting for him.

“No, your life has been one big Christmas morning since you arrived” Minah faked a sweet smile at Tyler’s friend, who was meant to be visiting from New York for a week, but who’d already prolonged his stay a couple of times. Minah thought she had reasons to worry about him and how much of a distraction he’d represented since he set foot at the Manor. Tyler would often forget appointments because Daniel was around doing God knows what to keep him off his duties.

“You two behave, I’ll be in the study room,” Tyler said trying not to giggle at the way his business partner and his best friend looked at each other —as though they were planning each other’s funeral. “See you at the office, Min” Tyler gave Minah a quick soft kiss on the forehead before exiting the room, causing Daniel to fake retching noises.

“So what are you gonna do?” Daniel asked once Tyler was gone. Minah looked over at him with a serious and inquiring face, so he added “About the client gifts you don’t have?” With an eye roll.

“Like I said it’s in the works” Minah glared at Daniel so forcefully she was surprised he didn’t retreat then.

“Tyler might’ve bought your act, but he’s nice and he gives people more credit than they deserve” He sneered as one of the maids offered him a basket of pastries. He picked a croissant. “I’ve been here two weeks and I already know you have a blind spot when it comes to thinking about other people” He looked like he was going to add something else but he thought better and simply forced himself to smile at Minah

“I have no blind spots. I see all spots.” Minah picked a strawberry and took a bite “Just like I see you eating your croissants while you may be desperately trying to claim a seat at this table” Minah watched satisfied the way Daniel’s face tensed up “But you need to know that unless you’re a Lee or make business with a Lee, no one cares what you think” Minah popped the rest of the strawberry into her mouth, chewing slowly, her mouth twisting into a smirk as she stood to leave “Especially not me”

Daniel’s eyes followed Minah when she walked out of the room, a strange smile gleaming across his face as he piled mini croissants onto his platter.

Boundaries

“Hey, I need a shopping partner or an assistant whichever you’re in the mood to be” Minah called, walking into Sungjae’s house

Somewhere in between the charity football game and the present day Minah and Sungjae had a conversation that allowed them to get some things off their chest and agree to try and be friendly to each other. After all, they’d known each other for a long time, and ignoring each other’s existence was as uncomfortable as it was inconvenient, considering Minah still helped Aurelie with some of her family’s minor companies. That’s why Minah thought there would be no problem if she paid a quick visit to her new “friend”.

“A ride at the very least” she suggested, fixing the chain of her shoulder bag. Just as she reached his room, the door opened and Ashleigh walked through it. She didn’t seem surprised to see Minah, instead, she was fastening her belt with a hundred-watt grin crossing her lipstick smudged lips.

“Oh, I see someone already got one” Minah scoffed, trying to look unfazed and unaffected by the fact Ashleigh never seemed to leave Sungjae’s side.

“Have you ever heard of knocking?” Ashleigh asked, walking out of Sungjae’s room and picking her bag from the console table in the hall.

A jab of jealousy nailed Minah in the gut. She could remember personally picking that table for Sungjae in one of the many home decor shopping sprees they went on when he first moved into the Delacroix property.

Suddenly the awful realization that it never was just sex swept over Minah. Sungjae meant a lot more to her than she ever admitted.

Obviously, now it was too late.

“Oh, you mean I can’t just walk in like I own the place?” Minah questioned with a thinly veiled smirk. “Because newsflash, I do”

Ashleigh purposely ignored Minah’s words and reached to pick her coat.

“So how is the job going? Heard Mr. Rausing wasn’t too pleased after finding out you rejected our contract. Now he’s been chasing after us, desperately trying to get us to sign with him, offering us a bargain price for your textiles” Suddenly feeling vindictive, Minah said despitefully. "I guess I should thank you after all"

“The only job I want to talk about is the faux job you pretended to give my boyfriend” Ashleigh frowned. It was the first time the two of them met face to face after Envoûté’s launch party, so Minah wasn’t exactly shocked to find out Sungjae’s girlfriend was still furious at her. After all, she’d made her cry and leave the party early.

“Faux job?” Nevertheless, Minah feigned obliviousness “Wow that’s pretty classy, Ash” Ashleigh cast an exasperated glare at Minah, so she gave in “You know you could argue that me pretending to blow Sungjae was a good thing, you two came out stronger than ever-”

“Are you high on something?” Ashleigh forced a laugh. As if on cue, Sungjae step into the hall.

“What is going on?”

Minah shrugged innocently and Ashleigh, though still fuming, only turned to face her boyfriend, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him on the mouth.

Minah looked away, feeling an unpleasant twinge of jealousy.

“I was about to leave” Ashleigh put on her coat as Sungjae looked over at Minah questioningly “Maybe you should change your locks” The blonde woman gave Sungjae a peck on the cheek before walking out of his home.

There was a brief silent moment where Sungjae continued to look at Minah as if asking for explanations, but she had already started to walk toward the kitchen.

“Minah“ Sungjae called with a weary sigh, making her turn on her heel and look at him with those large Bambi eyes of hers that apparently had long ago lost their effect on him. Sungjae stood looking at her with his arms crossed over the chest, eyes hard as he regarded her with a raised brow.

“I would say she isn’t getting enough of you-know-what, but knowing you-“ Minah was interrupted by Sungjae’s severe sounding voice.

“Minah you can’t just barge in here without respect for boundaries,” Sungjae said, his lips twisted in disapproval.

“Boundaries?” Minah asked, eyelashes fluttering “I thought you agreed to be my friend”

“Yes, but Ashleigh doesn’t want to be your friend” Sungjae’s voice softened “Nor she wants to be reminded we were friends”

“I think you’re using friends as a euphemism, but I mean actual friends” Minah pursed her lips and then stared at Sungjae with something that resembled to pleading eyes, for a brief moment. But of course, Minah was a Delacroix, so her expression shifted automatically, turning a tad reproaching.

“Minah, you can’t expect Ashleigh to be cool after all you put her through”

Minah rolled eyes at that. What about what Ashleigh had put her through?

“You need to give us some space” Sungjae didn’t look amused, nor he’d sounded so serious ever before.

Minah took it as a cue for her to leave.

Sungjae’s Christmas present

“What is all of this?” Tara asked following Tyler into his office. The room smelled like an odd mix of cigars, fine chocolate, and scotch so she regarded Minah, who was sitting at her desk with an arrangement of colorfully wrapped gifts, with wariness.

“It’s the season to show our clients how much we appreciate them” Minah handed a list to Tara and Tyler as they sat across from her on a recently shipped Grand Model Sofa from Le Corbusier. “And to show our competitor’s clients what they’re missing out” she smiled proudly.

“Are we hosting another party?” Tyler asked confused, without even sparing a glance at the list.

“People forget parties as soon as their hangover fades” Minah was probably speaking from her own experience at the launch party but Tara nodded in agreement. “If we can butter up my family’s clients with a memorable present, maybe some of them will be willing to meet with us”

Tyler and Tara shared skeptical looks, but Minah was too busy sorting through the gifts on her desk to notice.

“Now, if you look through the list you can see some of the options-”

“Tara will help,” Tyler said giving a quick glance and losing interest the moment he noticed there were like 20 items on it “Choosing presents is exhausting, I can only deal with it once a year”

“Fine” Minah shrugged, concealing the disappointment in her voice quite well. She’d been under the impression Tyler wanted to pick the gifts for their clients himself, but she figured out the meeting with the gift strategists that morning hadn’t gone quite as planned. “Anyway, my family usually hands the gifts at their Tree Lighting Ceremony, so I guess we could send ours next week at the latest” she added, discarding all the items she’d been planning to show Tyler and putting them back in their respective bags.

“So you’re going to the Lighting Ceremony?” Tyler stood up and asked “casually”, which earned him an eye roll from his sister.

“Of course I am, I’m a Delacroix after all” Minah said distractedly.

“Wanna go together?” Tyler’s invitation made Minah and Tara stop on their tracks and slowly turn to look at him with matching looks of disbelief.

“Well…” Minah started, clearly flustered “I usually go with Sungjae” Tyler’s obvious reaction was to roll eyes while Tara’s face morphed into a grimace that looked like a charade clue for the WTF expletive. “But I figured out his girlfriend wouldn’t like that” Minah went on, picking her bag from the ottoman next to her desk as a new realization hit in. “You know what? I got the best idea for Sungjae’s Christmas present this year” She jumped to her feet enthusiastically.

“Space?” Tara asked, giving Minah a slightly cold judgmental look.

“No” Minah shook her head “I am going to make a new friend”

“Who?” Tyler blinked confused.

“Please don’t say-“ Tara started.

“Ashleigh,” Minah and Tara said in unison, their voices differing in tone.

—

It took Minah an hour to navigate through London’s traffic and make it to Ashleigh’s office on the 30th floor of some North London tower that once upon a time had been considered one of the ugliest architectural pieces in the city, but it had been revamped with vertical gardens that made an important ecological statement as much as they helped it to save face.

Minah had to take a deep breath before walking through the doors of IN-Eco Corp and remind herself that she was only there to show Sungjae how much she actually cared about him and that she was willing to do anything to keep him in her life. She would go as far as to call a truce with Ashleigh. Even if that implicitly conveyed a sign of weakness.

When Minah stepped into Ashleigh’s office she was on the phone complaining about a sponsor drawing back from a contract and how it would affect the company’s organic cotton farming project in Peru, but she was quick to finish the call as soon as she saw Minah.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt” Minah apologized insincerely. Actually, she’d meant to and she was glad Ashleigh picked the hint. “But, I brought you an invitation to the Annual Delacroix Tree Lighting Ceremony” Minah flipped her hair over her shoulder with one hand and pulled a red envelope from her clutch with her other.

“The Tree Lighting might be hosted by your family, but Sungjae is an employee and I’m going as his date, why would I need your invitation?” Ashleigh said, getting up from her desk. “Why are you really here, Minah?” Minah didn’t miss the way Ashleigh pronounced her name —the way someone would pronounce some offensive word.

“Sungjae is my friend and you’re his girlfriend” Minah started, trying not to react at the way Ashleigh moved her hands as if encouraging her to go on and stop repeating the obvious. “So it stands to reason that you and I are gonna run into each other a lot-”

“Is that a threat?” The blonde cut Minah off.

“No” Minah heaved a sigh, thinking about the lengths she’d go to make Sungjae happy with a strange sense of concern and mortification. “I'm just saying we all should be friends for all of our sakes”

“So in other words, you want me to make it more convenient for you to spend time with my man?” Ashleigh raised her brows incredulous. Minah almost let out a chuckle at the fact Ashleigh referred to Sungjae as “her man”, but she had the sense to stop herself.

“Ashleigh, listen, this is not just about Sungjae” Minah offered her a fleeting smile “I would be the first one to admit that I could use a girl friend” Ashleigh laughed as though she couldn’t believe her ears. “Come on, Ashleigh, you’re making things more complicated than they need to be” Minah went on “It’s not like Sungjae and I were even in love” Ashleigh expression hardened upon registering those words “It was just office sex and booty calls”

“Tell that to him” Ashleigh glared at Minah

“Wait, what? Did he say it was more than sex?” Minah attempted to sound casual but was quick to realize Ashleigh wasn't fooled by her cool exterior and was picking up on her lingering excitement.

“And that is exactly why we can’t be friends” Ashleigh fumed, opening the glass door for Minah to leave.

Trying to move on

“Why are you still bothering that poor girl?” Tara inquired sternly, looking at Minah through her pair of frameless Chopard glasses. For someone as lenient as her, Tara seemed quite exasperated

“Well…“ Minah, sitting on the Pierre Frey rug, supported her left elbow on the sofa and placed her hand upon the chin. The two girls had been sitting in one of the lounge rooms on the second floor, supposedly working, but of course, they’d lost their track after Minah decided to share her visit to Northern London with Tara. “I thought that if I tried to be friends with her-“ Minah looked up from the list in her hands, sincerity radiating from her big hazel eyes, something Tara would’ve given Minah credit for if she had not been too busy frowning at her.

“Let-it-go, Min” Tyler’s sister clicked her tongue as though Minah had not spoken. “Close the door and let’s focus on this before Tyler gets back here. We’ll talk about this later when I have Jane backing me up”

Minah rolled her eyes. Tara was really not fun at all ever since she started hanging out with that Mark Yang boy.

“Well, Envoûté is supposed to be super innovative and eco-friendly” Tara started

“Well, if we go with tech it has to be cutting edge, something everybody wants” Minah meditated, her eyes straying briefly to the strong fire blazing in the fireplace

“So why don’t we give them that headphone-headband hybrid, but we make it couture?” Tara suggested.

“Here’s a tip, you can never go wrong with rum,” Daniel said entering the room, a glass with something that looked like a Negroni in his hands.

“Tell that to your parents, Daniel” Minah scoffed. “Look, this is a work zone, for people with jobs”

“Jobs where you can wear pajamas all day?” Daniel said, eyeing Minah up and down and looking at her silk set with reproving eyes. “Sign me up”

“Charlotte Casiraghi wore this last week!” Minah explained to Tara, almost scandalized Daniel was suggesting she was wearing pajamas. “You’ve clearly picked Americans’ bad taste, assuming you ever had it, of course,” Minah spat angrily.

“Whatever, I didn’t come here to comment on your clothes” Daniel started, eyes narrowing to slits “Though I would absolutely change before meeting the cutie that’s waiting for you downstairs” He shrugged before turning around ready to leave.

“Wait! Who is it?” Tara asked curiously.

“I think his name is Seojun” Daniel didn’t deign to look back at the girls before walking away.

“Sungjae?” Minah and Tara exchanged incredulous looks.

____

Ten minutes later Minah walked down the marble staircase into the entrance hall of Tyler’s home. It was a given that Minah Delacroix was always beautiful without even trying, but she looked almost ethereal dressed in white ruffled silk shorts and a bodice with thin straps that barely held the piece of fabric in place and showed more cleavage than her family would deem appropriate for someone of her status. Then there was the fact her hair gleamed against her clothes, spilling down her shoulders in loose waves.

Sungjae had to gulp and look away when she stood in front of him, eyes boring into his.

“What are you doing here?” She questioned, still feeling bitter about their last meeting.

“Well, you don’t seem to understand boundaries, so why should I?” Sungjae’s voice was tense as if he were keeping himself contained within his body. “Why did you go see Ashleigh?” His jaw clenched.

Minah snorted. “I was adulting. All I did was inviting her to the Tree Lighting Ceremony and she kicked me out of her office�� She said, giving slow steps, trying to draw closer to Sungjae.

“I told you to give us space and you tried to sabotage my date?” Sungjae shook his head, tongue in cheek as if he couldn’t believe Minah was as tone-deaf.

“What?” Minah’s snort was equal parts confused and offended, she stared at Sungjae, eyes widening and mouth pressed into a fine line. “Wait, you’re taking her to the Tree Lighting?” Her voice was accusing and momentarily she allowed herself to look hurt. “But that’s our thing. I mean-” Of course Minah briefly forgot there was no such a thing as “we” —as in Minah and Sungjae— any more and by extension, there were no traditions for them to keep either, but the thought was so painful that she still went on. She needed a clear response “We always go together-” she trailed off.

“Minah, these boundaries aren’t just for Ashleigh” Sungjae said gravely, “They’re for me” He took a few steps forward, the heels of his dress shoes slightly clicked against the marble floor and before he noticed, he was standing face to face with Minah, so close she could even count his lashes. “I can’t keep doing this every day” Minah recognized the same tone he used the morning after he slept with Ashleigh. “I think about you when I shouldn’t and I need to get you out of my head before we fall back into what we had”

The tension between them was so thick Minah almost felt she couldn't pull air into her lungs. Sungjae’s words echoed through the ample hall and its almost 30-foot ceilings, causing Minah to shudder ever so slightly.

When she finally gathered the courage to speak, Minah felt like facepalming herself. Her breath shook as she parted her lips. “Would- would that be so wrong?” she asked, her hand moving to hold Sungjae’s before her brain could even process what she was doing.

“Yes” Sungjae watched their hands and briefly squeezed Minah’s in something that was probably meant to be a comforting and warm touch, but that only made Minah’s heart tremble in ache. “I’m trying to move on”

And with that Sungjae stormed out of the Lee Manor.

Meanwhile, Minah remained in the same spot, her stomach twisting in pain as she swallowed once, trying to keep the tears at bay.

“You startled me” Just when she was about to indulge in tears, the doors of the manor flung open and Tyler strolled in, clearly surprised to find Minah there, all dolled up. His eyes automatically settled on the curves of her breasts and the glowy skin of her cleavage.

“I- I was-“ Minah heard herself stammer “I was waiting for you to come home” she blatantly lied.

“Why?” Tyler licked his lips almost unconsciously

“I figured out I never gave you an answer” Minah smiled at him fondly, but he looked a bit confused, so she clarified “Do you still want to go to that Tree Lighting together?”

Tyler raised a brow for a fraction of a second, but then he threw a furtive appreciative glance at Minah and smirked, nodding his head.

Why would she ask such obvious questions was beyond him.

...

#oc #story #minah #sungjae #tyler #tara #daniel #lucas #ashleigh #dynasty au

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sheismental · 6 years

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how it’s supposed to be — tom holland (chapter VI)

CHAPTER I \ CHAPTER II \ CHAPTER III \ CHAPTER IV \ CHAPTER V \ CHAPTER VI

→ “You know we’re supposed to be together. I knew it the first time I saw you, and you know it, too. I know you do.”

pairing: tom holland x fem!reader.

summary: the way things are supposed to be are not always the way things are.

warning: angst! angst…and foul language. and tom holland sexiness

6 MONTHS LATER

The breeze of NY hits your skin lightly, your white tennis skirt flowing as you stroll down the busy streets. It was somewhat therapeutic for you, the buzzing sound of NY filling your ears, stranger’s faces popping by - Everyone in New York always seemed to be off into their own world, mind always elsewhere and you could see it. You could see everything.

You walk into your favorite cafe, just a few blocks down from your apartment. You smile bubbly making your way to the counter.

“Hey y/n!.” Shelley smiles brightly, rubbing her hands on her apron. “The usual?.”

“Hi Shelley, yes please.” You reply, taking out a five dollar bill and placing it on the counter. Shelley’s black raven hair brushes against her skin as she makes her way through the kitchen, making your order before placing it on the counter along with a croissant. You raise an eyebrow at the baked good and she simply chuckles.

“On the house.” She replies and you smile gratefully.

“Thanks, Shel.” You mumble kindly before sitting on your usual spot. Crossing your legs, your hands fiddle with the handle of the cup of coffee - you idly stirred the contents of the cup. The morning was rolling in slowly, the smell of coffee and the baked goods filled your nose and with it, a sense of familiarity with it.

“Is this seat taken?.” You hear the voice behind you, an accent as thick as honey. You don’t want to turn your back, from the corner of your eye you see the empty seat beside you - and you curse at the devilish ways of destiny.

“No.” You reply nonchalantly, your eyes stuck on the cup of coffee before you. You hear the sound of a chair being pulled back, and an arm grazing your slowly - Your locks fall in front of your face, a curtain of hair between you and the man you had promised to forget.

Tom’s hands are clasped together, his left knee bouncing up and down as his eyes darted from your profile to the table in front of him.

His presence alone was enough to make your heartbeath quicken, and you hated it. You hated how much he made you feel with so little.

“How have you been?.” He asks slowly, turning his head to you. You shrug, befoe lifting the cup to your lips and sipping on the warm beverage, feeling as it falls down your throat - A small moment of pleasure between the growing tension between Tom and you.

“I’ve been good, really good. And you?.”

Miserable, he wanted to say, but when he heard how much you emphasized on how good you were doing - Well, how could he do that to you?.

“Good.” He mumbles, nodding his head, trying to convince himself that he was alright. “I didn’t know you came here too, whenever i’m in New York i like to come by.” He comments looking around and you feel your stomach churn.

“Yeah i like it here too.” You follow, though you wanted the conversation to be over - With every single word shared you feel how your heart strings were pulled on a little more.

Tom feels anxious, he wanted things to be the same way they were, but how? He knew he couldn’t, he was too in love with you to pretend he was alright with just friends.

“I’m sorry to bother you, y/n.” He mumbles, Shelley comes by - placing a coffee to go in front of Tom, he smiles politely at her.

You wanted so badly to tell him he wasn’t bothering you, but how could you?.

“I hope you have a good day.” He says, standing up - looking at you for what he thinks will be the last time through his dark sunglasses. You bite your bottom lip.

He turns his back, walking out of the cafe with his heart being ripped with every single step. You look up, turning to see how he walks away - His fit frame walking straight, so sure of himself and full of life. He is alright, you think, smiling bitterly.

You walk into the fancy building, chandelier sparkling above you and everywhere you look there’s people speaking to each other bubbly. Women wear the most glorious sparkling gowns you’ve ever seen, men wear the fanciest of designer suits. And you feel out of place wearing the scarlett red gown - The dress had costed almost as much as what you earned in a year, but of course it had been a gift from the company. They needed ‘Someone familiarized with the media’, it was a true cosmic joke.

You make your way to the bar, your dress makes your walk a little more difficult than what you wanted but you make it through. The bartender smiles kindly.

“A martini please.” You mumble, your red tinted lips smacking against each other, your hands go up to the golden necklace fiddling with it. The bartneder nods and makes his way behind the counter.

“You are a sight for sore eyes.” You hear a sweet voice behind you, and you shut your eyes. Of course he was here, you turn around just enough to see Tom approaching you, all dressed in elegant wardrobe from head to toe. No doubt he was wearing a designer’s suit, Armani most likely, his hair styled back as his lips form into a smile.

“Tom.” You breathe out, you see his eyes sheepishly traveling from your head to your toes. You wanted to have the safety of your hair covering your face, but much to your dismay it was pinned up into an elegant bun.

He stands beside you, hands in the pockets of his dress pants. He looked more than charming, with that playful smile of his.

“I had no idea you were attending this fundraiser.” He comments, as the bartender places the elegant martini on the counter. You smile kindly before taking the glass between your hands.

“My job demanded me to come.” You explain and he cocks his head to the side, staring at you curiously. “I got a job at company that devotes itself to donating money for this kind of events.”

“Oh that’s nice.” He mumbles truly amazed, he eyes your lips before locking eyes with you. “You look gorgeous, by the way.” He compliments and you feel blood rush to your cheeks.

“Thank you.” You mumble, taking a sip of your martini - playing with the olive inside of it.

Tom meant it, the dress was beautiful - But you made it gorgeous, he saw you from miles away, as soon as you walked in it was as if a certain glow had reached the room. It was as if he could feel your presence, and he was glad you came - He needed to see you again so badly, and he was simply stunned at how marvelous you looked.

A song rolls in, filling Tom’s ears, it is a slow song. Tom takes his hand out of the pockets of his pants, stretching it out at you.

“May i have this dance?.” He breathes out, his eyes sparkling.

Your lips part, and your heartbeat quickens - You so badly wanted to run away from all of this, from your feelings.

You place the half empty glass on the counter before placing your hand on top of Tom’s hand, he takes it gladly and walks with you to the ballroom.

You feel the whispers and glances of several people, and it makes you anxious. While Tom feels on top of the world, his soft eyes lock with yours as he places his hand softly behind your back, the contact makes a shiver go down your spine. You had almost forgotten his touch.

He sways you both through the floor, gliding and all smiles. You wouldn’t dare to look at him straight on the face, you knew that seeing him so close to you would mess with your feelings - And were you really ready for that?.

“How long have you been in New York?.” You ask, clearing your throat as you gaze connects with his.

“Couple of weeks now.” He replies sheepishly, the hand on your back pulls you closer to him, the smell of his musky sweet cologne fills your nose as memories flash through your mind. The soft music fills the silence between you both.

You both had so much to say, yet neither could find the right words to speak out. Tom was just wandering, looking at every single feature of yours - He had them memorized, the wrinkles that formed on your eyes with each laugh, the curve of your lip - a few faint scars that held childhood memories, and he was aching to kiss every single one of them.

“Perhaps i shouldn’t say this-.” He trails off, his sweet voice filling your ears like a sweet melody. “But i have truly missed this, i have missed your face, your touch - everything.” He breathes out, you barely notice when his hand pulls you closer and closer to his chest, his face hovering over yours.

“T-tom.” You stammer and he bites his lip.

“I know - I just need you to know that i will always be in love with you, that i am in love with you.” He confesses, his eyes sparkling with a longing you had never seen before.

You swallow the lump on your throat, your lips parted and without words to speak. You were speechless, of course you felt the same way but you thought he was fine - I mean how wouldn’t he move on when he was one of the biggest movie stars and when he could have literally any girl he wanted?. But he wanted you.

Your feet were moving on it’s own with unspoken sync - Your eyes stuck on his, your gaze softens and his tongue glides over his lips, there’s an irrational thought swirling through your head. You want to kiss him. So badly, so needly that it made your heart ache.

You lean in slowly and his breath hitches as he feels your minty breath hover over his face.

“I think i’m in love with you too, i think i have always been.” You confess wholeheartedly and he feels as if the world has imploded into a million stars. He feels his heart beat out of his ribcage.

A goofy smile creeps onto his face.

“Let’s get out of here.” He breathes out and you chuckle softly, your eyes sparkling.

“Where are we going?.” You wonder as he clasps your hands together and leads you to the exit of the building with a fast pace, earning weird and confused looks from the people.

He turns to you just for a split second, his eyes twinkling eagerly.

“To take you to a proper date, love.” His lips curl into a never ending smile, and you do too - You feel as if a wave of relief has washed over you, and you were happy, for the first time in months you were just good - you were happy.

NOBODY LIKES THIS SERIES BUT IT IS ENDING SOON, I’LL BE POSTING THE EPILOGUE SOON.

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tom holland masterlist

tag list:

@choke-me-sweet-pea @taylorjrs13 @ooopsharry @spidyboyholland @imatrisk@distantsmiles @xallyouhadtodowasstay @thelyinglady @sterolinelover13@nihilistisright @sangstersvalentine @roses-hxlland @exposingrande@keilanimelton @oops-is-my-life @greenarrowhead @bagelbiites @why-am-i-here-again-shitheads @kendratheweird

this means i couldn’t tag you!

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland one shot #tom holland blurb #tom holland headcanon #peter parker #peter parker imagine

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