#i guess i can respect that. no excuse for the flavor though

[god-trauma]

ok apparently the dude who invented suboxone just really loves putting chemicals into little dissolving film strips he's got a patent for a tobacco film too. i wonder if it also tastes like if an orange was poisonous and sentient and wanted to kill you. maybe that's why absolutely no one has ever mentioned its existence.

[raainberry]

compliments to the chef

Momo x gn!reader

synopsis - momo falls for her new chef’s flavor🤭 (she’s the sole heiress of the Hirai culinary empire and hiring you spices things up a lot more than she intended.)

wordcount - 14K (please don’t say damn when you see the price)

T/W - kinda chaebol!momo - chef!reader - mentions of food, knifes etc… - nothing violent tho - slowburn? but make it angsty? - light cussing - you lowkey hate each other but not really - enemies to lovers? - guest starring bc that’s fun - that’s all i can think of, tell me if i missed anything

Momo sent a polite smile to the man sitting across from her. The fourteenth in the past half hour.

She’s been keeping count, along with the minutes, the grains of rice left on her plate, and the amount of times he’s mentioned one of his accomplishments.

Thirty-three, seventy-eight, and six; in that order. Only two questions about her so far, one if you remove the one about her name.

She almost left right then and there, but the respect she had for her mother weighed her down on that chair. If she wasn’t going to take over the family empire, the least she could do was find a worthy successor.

A soft sigh escaped her as she pushed her food around. Being an only child was way more fun when all it meant was that she didn’t have to share it with anyone. Or get it stolen, according to the venting of her friends when younger.

She finished the few bites left, trying to drown out the sound of his voice by focusing on the flavours. She closes her eyes, appreciating their delicate yet bold dancing on the tip of her tongue.

Maybe it was the boredom clinging onto whatever could keep her mind entertained, but the taste reminded her of herself. A small smile spread across her lips, the first real one of the day.

The next one came when the man asked for the bill. Her lungs could finally grasp the air around her, her nose picking up on the different notes and aromas of the dishes around her.

She sent her compliments to the chef, adding to them a generous tip she had no idea who’s pockets it’d really land in. It’s the thought that counts.

Her senses were in heaven walking out, engraving her mind with a memory that will stick longer than the guy who’d just made her split the bill, unevenly that is.

“Let me take you home.” He said once out front. His hand held the door open to the leather seats of a luxurious car she was too familiar with.

“Oh, no it’s fine thank you.” She declined quickly. “I actually have a meeting scheduled right after this.”

“I can drop you off.”

Momo almost laughed. She found his use of the personal pronoun very funny. She almost forgot he would just be sitting near her some more while the chauffeur did the sexiest part. If the latter were to her taste, she’d have driven off with her.

“I’d rather not.” She declined. “Business confidentiality and whatnot.”

The lie was forced through an awkward smile that he found endearing enough not to question. Relief washed over her when he finally let go of her, climbing into the car, but not without asking her to keep in touch.

Another sigh, a heavy one, loaded with all those she’d held back until now as she watched the car drive away. The pressure was off, but only for a second as her thoughts soon spiraled.

No way she had to do this again… She reached in her purse, looking for the one thing that could get her out of here.

All this junk, where is it—

“You’re awful at lying.”

Her phone almost dropped to its death from the startle you gave her.

Momo had a few questions at the sight of you. Your presence and your eavesdropping were the first, but the white apron half folded around your waist and the cigarette in your hand answered most of them.

“What,” was all she managed to say though, and a smile pulled on your lips.

“I mean, I’m not fond of lies, but when you’re famous for turning your back on business, you should probably come up with a better excuse.”

“Who even are you?”

“Right, I guess that’s fair. I’m Y/n. You’re Momo, right? Hirai?”

“Y-Yeah.” Her eyes squinted, desperately trying to see what you were leading to.

Your name sounded as unfamiliar as you looked, but you seemed well informed. She didn’t like that.

“Nice to meet you,” You greeted simply, eyeing the contrast between her features and the neat clothes on her back, “So how bad was it? You look… Worn out.”

Her chuckle was distasteful, and she tried to suppress its bitterness at the reminder of her lost time. “Awful. The food caught my eye more than he could ever hope.”

You smiled, “He wasn’t bad looking.”

“But he was a bore.” She argued. “Borderline narcissistic too.”

“Deal breaker then?” You guessed, turning her laughter a little sweeter.

“Pretty much.” Her gaze found the ground in a nod before focusing back on you. “I do like it better when it’s a two way conversation.”

“Does that make me cute?”

She scoffed at the brazen question. “You wish.”

“I don’t.” You dropped your cigarette on the ground, stepping on it in a way she found more hot than revolting to her surprise. That cheeky smile of yours was most likely to blame. “Thank you for the compliments by the way. I’m glad you liked it.”

Your bow was quick, desultory out of rehearsed respectfulness. As much as you appreciated her compliments, you had better things to do in the kitchen that could get you some more.

You caught a glimpse of her jaw dropping on your way back in, and it was enough of a sight to revel in for a few days.

—

It took Momo a couple weeks to pick her jaw back up and swallow her pride. It seemed as though the latter was the only thing she inherited from her family, and she managed to set herself apart yet again.

Her parents would have never set foot in your restaurant again. Not that you had lacked respect or anything, but the fact that you managed to set her off balance… Something about it she didn’t particularly like.

Why was she back then?

You asked yourself that same question when you stormed out of the kitchen at her request. If it weren’t for your manager and his speech about image and reputation, you never would have allowed her to interrupt you and abandon your brigade mid-shift.

Hands on your hips, dragging your feet, you walked into the office she awaited you in and felt your voice die down on your tongue at the sight.

Beauty or surprise, either way it came down to her presence.

The way her hair fell down her back, delicate and blending in with the fabric of her perfectly tailored shirt. The sleek black attire formed a shadow, painting a hole cut against her silhouette and into the spring she admired in the sakura tree out the bay window.

“Hi.” She smiled, her voice a fitting melody to the sights now behind her. Enchanting, sure, but odd.

She wasn’t exactly known to be a warm one to strangers. More power to her, you could understand that. But why didn’t it apply to you?

If it weren’t for the stories associated with that voice suddenly popping into your mind, she’d have lured you in. Nothing too bad about them; only testaments of her success. Rumors about the danger surrounding her, setting her apart from her family. You didn’t care for the big industry names, but theirs always had you curious.

“You asked for me?” Your voice rang in the quiet space.

Momo didn’t seem to notice your apprehension, her smile ever so welcoming, “I did.”

It felt as though she owned the place for a second.

“Do you have some more compliments?” You wondered, eyes following her figure as she went to take a seat in the armchair across your manager’s desk.

“I do actually.” She turned the seat to face you as she mused, “That black cod was to die for.”

You nodded, thankful. “Glad you liked it.”

As much as you didn’t like the way her family capitalized on the food you took such care to value, you couldn’t deny their expertise. Even if not a lot to you, Momo’s compliment did mean something.

“But that’s not all.” Her voice pulled your eyes back on her.

You found her posture quite imposing, matching her tone, but her infamous shyness was something she never got around to master. Her gaze held yours but it lacked control.

It was hard to ignore how endearing the attempt looked to you. It just made you want to give her whatever she wanted. Reward her efforts.

“What is it?” You wondered, curious.

What could she possibly want from you? This restaurant wasn’t yours. The only thing you had control over was the kitchen.

“I want you to cook for me.” She said, and you didn’t leave room for a breath before responding, “Excuse me?”

“I meant I’d like to hire you.” She clarified, a smirk dancing on her lips at your transparent thoughts. You tried to make sense of her proposal, but she didn’t waste any time in providing details. “I’m sure you’re familiar—the annual Hirai banquet my mother holds for shareholders. I never cared for the specifics, but I want to do good by her. I haven’t been the best daughter lately so I thought I’d make it up to her by holding it this year.”

It all clicked at the mention of her mother. Of course she wouldn’t be back with her own motives.

The Hirai Culinary Group was an empire. A home to the most prestigious restaurants of the country. All housing different specialties, techniques and themes… Quite a whole lot to manage yet the quality remained flawless. Fifty years of irreproachable cuisine, you could only respect it. If only they didn’t care about business so much…

Those banquets were popular, talk of the town within the industry as it usually set the next trends and whatnot. Make no mistakes, you were tuned in as well. They did bring in some interesting elements, but you hated the way they set it all up. A disguised year-end performance meeting. White collars expecting numbers and being served them on gold plates, horizons and growth perspectives hidden in desserts.

“So she’s actually the one that asked for me.” You smirked, unexpecting of the way she’d wipe it off just a second later.

“No.” She said simply, a serene smile gracing her lips. “Why would she know about you?”

You scoffed. Good point. You could recognize that despite the blow to your ego.

“Fair enough.” You nodded. “But why should I help you?”

“Help me?” She repeated, a hint of offense creeping into her whole being. “I’m offering you to work with me.”

Perhaps she wasn’t that much of an ugly duckling among the Hirai’s.

“My question still stands. Why should I?”

A silence followed your words, hanging low over your heads and expecting the next ones to come out of her. Hopefully they’d be good enough.

Momo’s gaze suddenly drifted from yours, finding interest in her surroundings. A few details she’d noticed earlier, various frames highlighting the establishment’s foundations. She could count three of them : its history, the owner and visibly the most important—you.

“Are you happy here?” She finally spoke, tearing her eyes away from your latest reward.

“I am.”

“I’m sure you are,” she remarked, tone striking a nerve. “Highest rank, valued both within and outside—you’re basically ruling the place…”

“What’s your point?” You asked, growing impatient.

“You’ve hit the ceiling, Y/n. It’s time for a new challenge, don’t you think?”

Silence enveloped you again as you found yourself contemplating her proposition.

Momo took the sight as a sign of her job being done here, and you watched as she left her business card on the desk before gracefully excusing herself; leaving you to deal with your internal struggle.

—

In the days that followed, her offer continued to linger in your thoughts, and with each passing day, the idea of a new challenge began to take root in your mind.

It spread enough to takeover a good portion of it, sending it all elsewhere. Far enough for your closest friend here and sous-chef to notice.

“What’s up with you, you’ve been all over the place lately.” Jeongyeon asked after you nearly knocked an nth plate to the floor.

“Nothing, I’m fine.” You met her gaze and it was enough to backtrack on your words “Okay, fine there is something, but… I don’t know it’s pointless.”

The empty pot you were carrying resonated as you put it back into its designated place, partially covering Jeongyeon’s words. “Does it have to do with that Hirai girl?”

“How do you know?”

“It’s the only thing out of the ordinary enough to throw you off your game.” She chuckled, drying her hands on her apron.

Weird way to tell you to live a little more, but okay.

“So what did she say to you?” She sighed, leaning her back against the sink. “What even happened in the office, you never told us.”

“Well…” You trailed off, gettng that business card out of your back pocket. You handed it to her, and it took her a second to notice what it was.

“What are you waiting for?” She scoffed, causing your eyebrows to furrow together.

“What do you mean?”

“Whatever she proposed just accept it, Y/n”

You spotted a hint of annoyance in her voice, but you had trouble seeing if it was about you or Momo. She sure was scrubbing that counter pretty hard.

“Why?” You asked, watching as she practically polished that stainless steel by hand. Something bothered you, and it wasn’t her cleaning technique. “Are you not even gonna fight for me?”

Jeongyeon paused to look at you, catching the slight pout on your lips. Her own twisted along her features in disgust, teasing you, and you let out your first laugh of the day.

“I should be the one asking you that.” She pointed out. “The fact that you haven’t thrown that card as soon as she left tells me enough.”

“I was just thinking about it…” You admitted, only proving her point.

Jeongyeon chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re past the point of even considering it, I mean… You’ve been walking around with that business card glued to your ass for the past week, yet you haven’t told me a thing about it.”

“You think you know me so well.” You grimaced. It was playful, but part of you wanted to provoke her. You didn’t blame her for that small jab at you, but it did hurt to think she didn’t put turning your back on this place past you.

She did know you so well, though. That’s why she continued to argue her point.

“What is there to think about, y/n? The heiress of the most acclaimed and prestigious restaurant chain of the country is asking for you. No sane person would say no, never mind a chef!”

The sigh that pushed past your lips came as far back as your lungs.

“Would you say yes?” You hesitated after a while, but her answer was much faster. “With no remorse.”

“I mean, have you seen her?” She added and you laughed.

“Fine. I guess I’ll call her…” You picked up the card from the counter and stared at her name.

Well… It’s not like she had asked you to quit your job…

—

“Oh, that’s exactly what I’m asking you to do.”

“What?!”

Momo pulled the phone away from her ear at the sheer volume of your voice through the speaker. How unprofessional. Her eyes rolled soon after, once she registered what your reaction held and meant for her plans.

“Y/n, this isn’t some side hustle for your experience.” she sighed, “I’m offering you the opportunity of a lifetime. If this all goes well, you could become our youngest chef in history.”

A point was made. As much as you were cautious of her voice, it seemed you couldn’t do much about the way it managed to get to you. The words she used were ambitious, they spoke to you.

But she failed to measure just how ambitious you were.

“Why can’t I do both?” You finally asked, prompting a string of arguments being thrown to one another. A futile game of ping-pong you were determined to win, only irritating the woman at the other end of the line.

All this whining, it was like dealing with a child, and truthfully you felt like one. Asking for the best of both worlds seemed completely reasonable to you, so why wouldn’t she give it to you.

“Listen, you can’t give your all to something if your attention is split in two.” She said, losing the last bit of patience she managed to keep today. “You can’t expect to grow by splitting yourself in half, and if you think otherwise, then consider my proposal void.”

A small silence fell over the line. She made sense. She was right. So why couldn’t you bring yourself to accept it?

“If you actually stepped foot in a kitchen once in your life you’d know two isn’t even the minimum.” You scoffed.

Whatever you wanted to mean by that… even you didn’t know, but apparently it was worth thinking over as you heard Momo sigh.

The woman closed her eyes to think.

Why couldn’t you just say yes like everyone else she approached. Maybe she should have made you say it back in the office, use that pathetic confidence of yours against you.

Oh how easy you were to read and see through. Pushing buttons was so much easier when people stood in front of her.

That’s why she hated phone calls. How could she know what to say—oh.

The light bulb went off over her head.

Right… That pathetic confidence of yours.

“I’ll step in if you do.”

—

It shouldn’t have been so easy.

All it took was a half-genuine smile, and a simple promise to make things different this year with a focus on the culinary side of things. Sure, she had to admit to scouting the area in search of the most skilled and promising, which eventually lead her to your restaurant, and then… you. But it was all ego strokes. Child’s play.

Part of her was disappointed. She’d hoped for a little more resistance, a challenge promised by your initial tone and attitude towards her.

“Damn it!”

She should be more careful about what she wishes for… Momo sighed, expecting your face to peek in by the doorframe of the manager’s office, and it did just seconds later.

“Momo, it’s not working.”

“What isn’t?” She said, confused. Machinery’s top-notch, brigade is her best, there was no way anything would stop working out of nowhere.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing, just come and see.”

Momo stared at you, noticing a smile fighting to make its way onto your lips. She was apprehensive but followed you anyway.

You’d been working on a technical plate : a type of hybrid dish-dessert. An ambitious idea you’d prompted to Momo during one of the early meetings to work the menu out.

Only she had to make it an order. A boring one and near impossible to pull off. She wouldn’t listen, so you decided to show her.

As you led her to the kitchen, you couldn't help but start venting away about everything that went down since the last time she'd stepped foot in there, which was a day or two ago.

"So, first, the soufflé collapsed twice because someone—I won't name names, but it rhymes with 'intern’—forgot to preheat the oven."

Momo sighed internally. Why were you so fixated on every little mistake? Who cares about interns and their mistakes, that’s what they’re here for. She could excuse a non-preheated oven, but forgetting her birthday? Yeah, that Boo Seungkwan is definitely off the list. He had a good run, only regret was he was good with her dogs. And nice maybe.

"Then, the new mixer decided it wanted to be a blender, and let's not even talk about the chocolate ganache incident."

She nodded absently, her mind drifting to the text she received earlier from another potential suitor. The daughter of her family ‘s right hand man, Jihyo if she remembered correctly? The Park’s had a rocky history though, she took note to raise her guard on that one before your voice pulled her back.

"And of course, the sugar sculpture? Total disaster."

Momo glanced at you, wondering if you realized how whiny you sounded. She had bigger fish to fry than a failed sugar sculpture, like figuring out if she even wanted to leave this family business. If it meant she had to deal with one more daddy’s pocket leech…

"On the bright side, we finally perfected the citrus glaze for the salmon, and the guests couldn't get enough of the hors d'oeuvres last night, so I guess the test was a success.."

When you finally stopped talking and walking, she found herself face to face with an… interesting looking thing on a plate.

“What is that?” She said, dumbfounded.

“Oh, that’s the lemon pie thing you asked for.” You answered nonchalantly. “I told you it wouldn’t work.”

“Are you serious?” Her stance and tone changed, cold and threatening like you had the joy of experiencing earlier this month. Didn’t shake you anymore though. The dumb smile on your face was still there, dangerously creeping into a smirk. She couldn’t wipe it for some reason.

“Yeah, that sucks. I guess I lost three hours of my life.” You shrugged, eyes lingering on the edible failure staining the porcelain. “Doesn’t taste bad, though.” You handed her a piece with a spoon you’d clearly already used, and Momo’s stare hardened.

“Fix this.”

Obviously, you would. But you couldn’t let it happen without messing with her first. So you stared right back into her eyes, holding her gaze just long enough to make her doubt and fear the opposite. The tension hung thick in the air, reaching a new high, until she finally broke away and walked off, her frustration evident in every step.

You watched her walk, the smirk now very apparent and mocking her back.

“I’ll do just that, you don’t have to worry.” You cupped your hands around your lips to make sure she heard it, distracting a few chefs around you.

You were oblivious to the looks they threw your way, your gaze was focused on Momo’s retreating figure.

"I'll leave you some on your desk, make sure to try it!” That smirk was evident on your lips, and she could hear it in your voice, feel it getting under her skin.

You were a challenge alright. A damn good one.

—

Momo walked back into the building only days later. You frowned at the sight of her, shoulders obviously tense paired with familiar sour features. The exposed skin told you a lot about her potential whereabouts these past few days. Added to the rumors going around, it didn’t leave that much of a mystery…

“Oh, we’re cooked.” Ryujin, the intern, mumbled under her breath, catching yours and a chef’s attention.

“Yeah, we should have seen it coming.” The chef, Mingyu, sighed, dropping a heavy pan on top of the counter beside you.

“Why, what happened?” You asked, easing yourself into their conversation.

Ryujin’s eyes widened, startled by the interruption. “I uh,” she stammered before Mingyu spoke up.

“Word on the street is, her father set her up with Park's daughter.” He chuckled to himself, making you curious.

“Park’s daughter… The Park branch daughter?” You asked, the name ringing more and more familiar. “You mean Jihyo? Isn’t she managing the H-Lounge?”

H-Lounge was a private, high end rooftop lounge managed by Mr.Park, Mr.Hirai’s right hand man. Big bar, little food, and big walls; a white collar’s favorite and the Hirai’s most profitable branch. From what you knew, Jihyo’s been pretty much running things for years now, her father only still there because of Momo’s.

“Yeah, but she’s on her way to the throne basically. Her dad’s been pushing for her to take the reins for a while now. Old man’s tired.” Mingyu commented, pulling a laugh out of Ryujin.

You squinted, watching as Momo disappeared around the corner to her office.

“Yeah. But didn’t they try to go solo with the Lounge once?” Ryujin asked, furrowing her eyebrows as she recalled rumors from a year ago. “Sounds kinda fishy.”

“And shady.” Mingyu nodded. “Seems to me like Boss Hirai’s desperate to make her stay.”

“Which one?”

You were confused out of your mind, and Mingyu could tell. He was amused when you met his eyes, begging for some clarity.

“Both,” he said. “Power play. Or two birds one stone type of deal. A Park-Hirai marriage would be beyond convenient for him—Jihyo’s a hot head, she could never hold this whole thing together without Momo stepping in at one point, he knows that. It’s the only way he gets to keep both of his most precious assets.”

You shook your head. There was no way. The idea didn’t even match with the Momo you knew. "I don't see it. Momo's way too stubborn and prideful to let something like this happen to her. She's not the type to be manipulated like that."

"You think?" Ryujin asked, raising an eyebrow.

You nodded. "Yeah. I mean, you see how she handles things... Father or not, she won't just bend to someone else's will.”

Mingyu shook his head, a knowing look in his eyes glued on Momo’s figure passing by. "I think she already is..."

You all watched as she disappeared around the corner to her office, and you noticed her shoulders slump for the briefest of moments

It was a slight, almost imperceptible shift, but it struck you deeply for some reason. For the first time, you saw a crack in that impossibly unyielding façade.

A mix of concern and confusion washed over you. Despite the fierce exterior she projected on that comeback walk, there was clearly more weighing on her than she let on. Could Mingyu be right? Was Momo already being pulled back into the company's grasp despite that stubborn pride of hers?

You felt a rush of protectiveness overcome you, but quickly pushed it aside. What a useless, unbased feeling. Momo was fine. She wouldn't let herself be manipulated so easily… Right?

You pondered on the question for a while, but came up with the same answer every time.

She’ll be fine.

You sighed as the day wound down, leaning against a counter. Your gaze wandered to the door to Momo’s office, finding it closed as always. Come to think of it, you hadn’t seen nor heard it open since earlier that afternoon…

Was she still there?

Curiosity and concern got the better of you, and you decided to take the opportunity to show her the new and improved lemon pie she’d asked you to fix.

You made your way to her office, the building now eerily quiet. You didn’t wait for an answer before walking in. It was surprisingly dark, only lit by a small hanging light attached to the wall above the desk. This place was such a broom closet… You almost felt sorry for her then remembered what she’d told you.

"Technically this is still the kitchen, this wall is literal plastic."

You mentally scoffed at the memory. You couldn't believe the pettiness of that woman.

"What is that?" Momo asked, her eyes lifting from the paper for the first time in what felt like days.

Whatever was in that plate definitely looked better than the last thing you’d presented her. It held a certain finesse she wasn’t indifferent to.

"It's the pie you asked for," you said, eyes twinkling in pride. “Well, a deconstructed version of it.”

“It’s not what I asked for,” she trailed off, observing the fine details. Her eyes traced the delicate swirls of meringue and the vibrant yellow of the lemon gel. It wasn't what she had originally envisioned, but there was a beauty to it she couldn't deny. "But it's pretty."

You smiled, taking a seat on a corner of her desk as you pulled out a spoon as an offering. A clean one this time.

She was hesitant. Messing the dish up would feel like a crime, but so was leaving food unattended. So she finally dug in, picking up a bit of everything before humming at the taste of it all.

“Tastes the same as the failure, just… so much better.”

Your face lit up at the mention of that failed attempt a few days earlier. You’d kept your word and left it at her desk, hoping she’d have a taste despite the failure. It still had potential, and you wanted her to know.

“You had some?” Your eyes sparkled, and it made you look so much sweeter than you’d been lately. Momo felt herself falter for a second, slipping you a gentle smile before catching herself.

She cleared her throat, lowering the spoon down, the latter clattering on the porcelain as she went for another bite.

“I did.” She nodded. “You were right by the way. It wasn’t bad at all, just… unfortunate looking.”

You were only surprised she was admitting it; and this easily no less.

“So what do we do now? Do we listen to me more, or…?”

Momo sighed, and a victorious smile made its way to your lips before she even uttered the words. “Fine. You can freestyle a bit.” You cheered, and it took a lot for her not to mirror your happiness. “Don’t get too excited. You better follow the menu.”

“Or then what?”

She only glared at you, and the switch in her gaze was enough to turn you down. Or on. [What?]

“I’m kidding. Glad to be working with you.” You said, flashing her a grin that she could only see as cocky.

Momo's eyes rolled in annoyance, getting up from her seat and picking up the blazer on the back of it. As she gathered her stuff, you understood she was going home for the day. It was getting late, the restaurant had closed a couple hours ago and all the staff was gone too. You should get going too, but you feel a sudden pang of reluctance…

“You're going already?" You blurt out, unable to suppress the urge to keep her here just a little while longer.

Momo raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by your sudden change in demeanor. "You just shook my hand," she pointed out.

"Well, yes, but..." you trail off, grasping at your brain for any excuse to keep her here a moment longer. You couldn’t explain it. You didn’t understand either, but there was something about her presence that you find strangely comforting in the moment.

Maybe it was the lack of noise and chaos in the background, behind the office door she kept closed; only for you to burst it open anytime you had a complaint or an idea.

The silence, the dim lighting, their absence or her presence… Or the fact that she was actually pleased with your work for once. Explicitly at least. Most likely a gas leak you didn’t know about that messed with your thoughts—you couldn’t tell. But it was something.

There was something keeping you glued to that desk.

She was about to leave again, but this time you reached out and grabbed her hand, your fingers closing around hers in a firm grip. Both of you froze, the air suddenly charged with… again, something as you held her gaze.

"You said you'd be stepping in," you blurted out once more, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. You weren’t sure what possessed you to say it, but now that it was out there, you couldn’t take it back.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching as her mind raced to make sense of your words.

When she’d told you she’d step in, she didn’t think you’d take it seriously. That was her first mistake maybe, but to her, stepping in meant overseeing the preparations, making decisions about the menu, and handling the logistical details of the banquet. She never intended to actually cook alongside you, and quite frankly, she didn’t know how you could possibly think she would.

Were you stupid or purposefully getting on her nerves like you so often seemed to enjoy? Didn't you realize she had other responsibilities, obligations she had to take care of over cooking?

This was literally why she’d sought you out.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

"You haven't helped once in the kitchen since we started, and it's basically been a month," You retorted, your tone edged with frustration. "For someone who prides herself on integrity, you sure are amazing at keeping your word."

Your words were like a slap to the face, and Momo felt a surge of defensiveness rise within her. Your claims sure were bold for someone who did nothing but defy her words ever since the beginning.

But beneath the anger, there's a stain of guilt, a nagging feeling that maybe - just maybe - you might have a point. From a certain angle, you could say she did kind of manipulate you into working for her by throwing that phrase; or let’s call it as it was : an empty promise.

Momo sighed as she struggled to find the right words to get herself out of this. Your gaze was merciless on her, probing and insistent as you waited for an explanation. Or just admittance.

"I meant overseeing things, making decisions about the menu, handling the logistics, the usual," she finally explained, her frustration evident in her tone. "I still have a million other things to take care of for that banquet, you know. It's not like I can just drop everything and spend all day cooking with you."

She paused, searching your face for any sign of understanding or sympathy, but all she found was a stubborn determination. A refusal to back down from your position. And despite herself, she felt a small spark of admiration flickered to life within her.

"Look," she continued, her voice softening slightly. "I appreciate your dedication, I really do. But you have to understand that I can't just drop everything to cater to your whims. I have a responsibility to my family, to our guests, to ensure that everything goes smoothly. And if that means I have to delegate certain tasks to you, then so be it."

Her words were only met with silence. She waited for your response, bracing herself for another confrontation. But to her surprise, you nodded, a hint of understanding in your eyes.

The relief washing over her heart at the sight startled her. Why did she want to see it? Why did she want you to understand anyway?

"Alright," you said, your voice calm and measured. "I get it. I just... I guess I was hoping for more, you know? More than just orders and instructions. I wanted to be a part of something. Contribute in a meaningful way."

“You are a part of something, Y/n,” she reassured, and the hand she dropped on your shoulder caught you off guard. Her gaze had softened, but it only made you panic.

Here comes the guilt tripping, you mentally sighed, bracing for impact.

Before you could even muster an attempt to deflect the incoming emotional onslaught, she continued, her words flowing with as much determination as you were used to. "You know, this banquet isn’t just another project for me. It may not seem like it, but I care about it a lot. I take it as a farewell, a thank you to my family and the opportunities they’ve gifted me."

You opened your mouth to intervene, to offer some semblance of resistance, but she plowed on, crushing any attempts to cut in. "And not only are you a part of it, you’re leading it, Y/n. I trust you."

The words hit like a ton of bricks, and for a moment, you were rendered speechless. One of the rare times in your life. Here you were, caught in the midst of a heartfelt moment, unable to muster even a hint of humor to lighten the mood. With a silent sigh, you resigned yourself to the inevitable, silently acknowledging her words.

All you could do was drop your gaze, nodding. You almost felt shameful for trying to ignore her possibly having feelings.

“Thank you for trusting me.” You muttered, fiddling with your fingers before looking back at her. “I’ll make sure everything goes smoothly. Food wise at least.”

Momo nodded in acknowledgment, finally removing her hand from your shoulder. Her feet stuttered before turning away. She’d made it to the door pretty quickly, but a sudden thought halted her tracks.

The sudden stop in the sound of her expensive heels caught your attention, and you looked up at her. Your gaze and eyebrows silently inquired her, and she smiled sheepishly. Another display of vulnerability that made your heart jump.

“Can I bring that home?”

Momo nodded towards the desk, referring to the unfinished dessert you’d brought her. She wanted to take it to her mother. Give her a preview of what was to come in a couple weeks.

The request made you smile. A little happy if you dared to say so. You reached for the plate to hand it to her, only to take it with you as you finally got up from that desk. “Wait, let me get you a takeout box.”

“We have takeout boxes?” She said, dumbfounded. You only stared at her, speechless but not surprised. You could only shake your head, before leading the way to the kitchen.

“I was just kidding by the way, I know we have them.”

She didn’t. Something you proved when you made her search for them. You let her walk around and act as though she had any idea where anything was in that kitchen before she gave up and surrendered to your amused, almost mocking gaze.

You added a few more of the day’s tests and leftovers into the box before packing it all up before sending her home with a smile.

She was nice to be around when you weren’t trying to step on each other’s toes.

—

The dining room of the Hirai residence was bathed in soft candlelight, casting a warm glow over an overly elegant table set for two. The head of the table felt empty with her father’s absence, a recurring one lately as he tended to matters deemed important for the company. Momo usually sat on his right, like she did tonight. Her mother, Mrs. Hirai, took her seat right across. Despite the picturesque scene, a palpable tension lingered in the air. Another recurrence Momo dreaded every day for months now.

Momo longed for the laughter that used to bring her family together around this table. The same one she announced her intent on renouncing to the heiress title. The same seat she’d left holding back tears at the words her father had thrown at her over a year ago.

Mr. Hirai never meant any of them, she knew that. He’d told her that, apologized soon after and long ago. But the thought, the scene, the sound… It’ll always tug at her heart, and dig the tears from deep within.

Momo swallowed hard at the sudden flashback, suppressing the pain. She managed to do that quite well; better as time passed.

The only problem was how she still couldn’t say a word at this table.

Conversation flowed in fits and starts as both women picked at their plate. Mrs. Hirai seemed determined to bridge the gap growing between them, her attempts at small talk falling flat against Momo's stony silence.

Then came a time where she was unable to bear the awkwardness any longer. The older woman cleared her throat and fixed her daughter with a searching gaze. "Momo, dear, I must say, this is all absolutely divine. You must have put a lot of thought into it."

Momo glanced up, her eyes meeting her mother's briefly before returning to her plate. "Actually, it’s Y/n who’s behind it all," she admitted, her tone guarded.

Mrs. Hirai's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Y/n? The new chef at your restaurant?"

Momo nodded, her mind already bracing for the inevitable conversation about her future. “A real talent for sure. Lots of potential. The whole experimenting thing is something we needed.”

Concern etched Mrs. Hirai's features before she composed herself, her expression becoming more serious. "Momo, don’t you want to reconsider at least once?”

Momo's shoulders tensed, steeling herself for the argument she knew was about to unfold. "Mom, we've been over this. I've made up my mind."

Mrs. Hirai regarded her daughter with a mixture of resignation and disbelief. "Think about what you’ll be leaving behind, it makes no sense! This company is your birthright, it’s your legacy, you have to uphold it."

Momo sighed, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I know, Mom, but I just don't want it. You’re asking me to be the head of it all as if I haven’t just been taking orders and following plans my whole life. I’m telling you I can’t bear all that, I don’t…"

Tears pricked at Momo’s eyes, “I don’t want to fail.”

"I understand, dear.” Mrs. Hirai's expression softened, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “But you have a responsibility to the family, to your father's legacy."

"I'm trying, Mom! Why do you think I go on all these dates for?" Momo's frustration boiled over, her voice rising slightly.

Mrs. Hirai recoiled slightly at the sudden outburst, her expression pained. "Well, it is taking a while," she murmured, "Maybe you should reconsider your approach."

Momo's jaw clenched, her frustration only mounting. "It's not my fault they're all brainless," she muttered, stabbing at the poor short ribs you’d braised to perfection. "Half of them are grossly aroused by your pockets. If you're fine with that, then tell me, and I'll gladly shorten the process."

Mrs. Hirai sighed, a mix between sorrow and anger. "Momo, we just want what's best for you. The company is important, yes, but so is your happiness."

As much as the company mattered to her parents, Momo’s happiness came above all. They’d worked so hard to provide for her, to ensure she never lacked anything. Especially love. Theirs had birthed this wonderful girl, whom they nurtured with, only wishing for her to find her own.

Seeing their daughter ready to sacrifice such a value broke their hearts more than her leaving the company.

"I know, Mom. I just wish..." Momo's shoulders sagged, her anger dissipating as she met her mother's gaze.

Mrs. Hirai saw the opportunity to mention what's been lingering on her mind. "I noticed your father has been setting you up with Jihyo. She's a capable woman, and the Park family is influential. It could be a good match for both of you, professionally and personally."

Momo scoffed, tearing through the last of her cutlet. "Jihyo’s basically the daughter of our closest enemy. She’s a wild card, Mom.”

Mrs. Hirai blinked, taken aback by Momo's bluntness. It was a true definition, but such frank acknowledgment of their family's associates was rarely spoken aloud. It felt like breaking a taboo.

“Momo—”

“Listen, she's a nice enough person, but she's not what I need nor want. I know Dad thinks that pushing me towards her will make me stay in the company and keep things stable. Nice try, but we’re not six, and it's not fair to either of us."

Mrs. Hirai's face softened, "Momo, he just wants to make you jealous,” she said, a light chuckle leaving her lips.

“What?”

“You’re giving your father too much credit, as always.” She shook her head, clearly amused. “Remember when you actually were six and didn’t want to go to bed? The way he went to grab the dog and act all cuddly with it, instead of you? He’s doing the same with Jihyo. Grabbing the closest thing to replace you, hoping you’ll come tear it up and claim your place again.”

Momo's eyes widened, processing her mother's words. She was over here claiming she was so old and mature now, but he was doing the same thing as when she was young. Getting a hold of the closest, emotionally threatening enough thing around to get her to listen to him.

"So... he's not serious about Jihyo?"

Mrs. Hirai sighed. "He's serious about wanting you to stay. He thinks seeing Jihyo in your place will make you reconsider."

Momo shook her head, feeling the tears well up in her eyes again. "I don't want to be manipulated like this. I want my decisions to be mine, not because Dad is playing games."

Her mother reached across the table, placing a comforting hand on her daughter's. "I understand, dear. But sometimes, those who love us most will do anything to keep us close."

Momo's lip trembled. "I don’t care, it's not fair, Mom. How can you be okay with this?"

Hearing her mother back her father’s insane behavior was heartbreaking. Disappointing. Momo's chest tightened, a nauseating mix of frustration and betrayal surging within her as she caught her mother’s eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"I'm not saying I agree with his methods, Momo. But I know he's scared. Scared of losing you."

Momo looked down, her tears finally spilling over. "I just want to live my own life, make my own choices. Why can't he understand that?"

Her mother sighed, squeezing her hand gently. "Because he loves you, and he's afraid. Afraid that without the company, without us, you'll be lost. He doesn't realize how strong you've become."

Momo shook her head, frustration and sadness mingling in her heart. "I wish he could see that."

Mrs. Hirai nodded, her voice gentle. "Show him, Momo. The banquet is yours. Let him see what you can achieve on your own terms. Prove to him that you're capable of making your own choices and succeeding."

Momo took a deep breath, trying to steady her emotions. "You really think that will make a difference?"

Mrs. Hirai offered her a soft smile. "I do. Just be patient.”

Momo nodded, though the weight of her father's manipulations still pressed heavily on her heart. As she focused back on the food on her plate, her thoughts wandered back to you, and she couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope.

That glimmer of hope, it burned softly within her heart. Still too weak for her to feel anything other than relief at the thought of you.

—

“Can you at least pretend to be useful?” You snapped, slamming an oven door shut. “I need everyone on deck, and you’re just standing there complaining!”

The kitchen was bustling, the whole brigade rushing around to perfect their dishes as the deadline for the banquet loomed closer. Momo had scheduled a tasting tonight, placing you at the heart of the chaos. You tried to maintain control and ensure everything was perfect, but it was hard doing so when someone seemed determined to get in your way.

Momo's behavior had shifted over the past two weeks. She'd started paying more attention, trying to be more involved. It wasn't purely altruistic—she saw a silver lining in your presence. One that could solve all her problems. You challenged her in ways she hadn't experienced since her rookie days, igniting a new source of motivation. For once, she felt driven, compelled to prove herself.

So she decided to make you feel at ease—for her own gain, yes, but you won something in the deal, didn't you?

After that night in the office, she made it a point to be around more, offering assistance, and listening to you more.

It was promising.

But she had to ruin that too.

Today, she decided to supervise the brigade as you prepared for tonight's tasting. Her presence was only getting in the way of everyone, especially you. You tried to keep your focus, but Momo's constant hovering and her split attention were grating on your nerves.

As she stood in the kitchen, her phone buzzed constantly with texts from Jihyo. She tried to juggle the mounting pressure from her father, the complications with Jihyo, and her responsibilities; but it was obviously getting too much on one plate.

You glanced at Momo, noticing the tension in her posture, the way she bit her lip as she read her messages. The way she moved, the way her eyes sparked with intensity—it all captivated you for a second, distracting you in ways you didn't need at the moment.

Momo’s irritation mirrored yours. She snapped her head up from her phone, eyes blazing. "I would if you gave me anything remotely interesting to do. I won't just fetch things for you like some errand boy."

You scoffed, crossing your arms, trying to ignore the way her anger only seemed to add to her intensity. “Seriously? Picking and choosing at a time like this? If you were just going to screw me over you shouldn’t have bothered in the first place!”

Momo only chuckled, “Really? Because I could have sworn you’d begged for me to be here.”

“Right.” You nodded. “When I did that I didn’t think you’d take it as an invite to smear yourself all over anything I do again. We agreed you’d let me handle the kitchen, why are you so hellbent on keeping tabs, just let me do my job!”

“This whole thing was my idea.” Momo shot back, stepping closer. “You wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me. That name you’re so proud of means nothing without my backing.”

“You’re not doing anything but sabotaging yourself.” Your voice dropped into a dangerous whisper. “I’m gonna need you to take your eyes off your own ass and look around you. Who do you recognize?”

Momo stayed silent, her mind racing. She glanced around, seeing the faces and eyes focused on her—some confused, some irritated. She realized she couldn’t put a single name to any of them. Her heart sank as the reality of her detachment hit her. The bustling kitchen, the brigade working tirelessly, and she couldn’t even acknowledge their efforts properly.

She felt a knot of frustration and embarrassment tightening in her chest.

You chuckled, “See what happens when you’re too busy playing corporate princess? Just let me f****** handle it.”

Her anger flared again, some kind of defense against the sting of that realization. “You think you’re so indispensable, don’t you?” she hissed. “That your presence is the only thing holding this together? Get over yourself, Y/n.”

“Sure I will. Please, lead the way like you so beautifully know how!” You gestured, hands as sarcastic as your tone.

The tension was palpable, your breaths mingling as you stood face to face, neither willing to back down. For a moment, it seemed like the argument might escalate further, but then Momo broke eye contact, her gaze shifting to her surroundings.

“Your arrogance will be your downfall,” she spat, voice trembling with suppressed rage. “You think you’ve done such a great job running this s***show, huh?”

When she looked back at you, her eyes met yours with nothing but anger as something else she couldn’t quite place tried to ease itself in. She hated the way you managed to make her feel—vulnerable, exposed.

“You better prove it tonight or I’ll make sure you’ll regret ever stepping into this kitchen.”

Without another word, she turned and stormed out of the kitchen, leaving you standing amidst the chaos, that short and fragile truce between you two shattered yet again.

Tasting sure was going to be interesting…

—

That same night, the dining room was elegantly arranged, a stark contrast to the chaos of the kitchen earlier in the day. The table was set with fine china and crystal glasses, casting delicate reflections under the soft, ambient lighting. Momo sat between her parents, a tight smile on her face that didn't reach her eyes. Around the table were key senior staff members, trusted friends, and a few family members, all eager to sample the menu.

You, along with your brigade, moved seamlessly between the kitchen and the dining room. You made sure to put your hard earned skills to use, presenting each course with a practiced grace, detailing the inspiration and techniques behind every dish. Despite the tension in the air linking you to Momo, your professionalism never faltered, though your eyes rarely left the plates you were serving.

Each course was met with nods of approval, murmurs of appreciation, and the occasional question, which you answered with an admirable precision. Momo, however, remained silent, her gaze fixed on her plate. Her parents exchanged glances, concern etching their features.

When dessert was finally brought out, a hush fell over the table. You presented the dish—the deconstructed lemon meringue pie—explaining the delicate balance of flavors and textures. The room filled with the scent of citrus and caramelized sugar.

"Momo," Mrs. Hirai's voice cut through the murmurs, "you haven't said much tonight. What do you think?"

Momo looked up, her eyes meeting her mother's before shifting uncomfortably to the food in front of her. She felt the weight of everyone's gaze, including yours as you had paused in your explanation to listen.

"It's... it's very well done," she finally said, her voice painfully devoid of any enthusiasm. "The team has done an excellent job."

Her father frowned, leaning forward. "You can do better than that. Your opinion matters here. Speak up."

Momo's jaw tightened. She spent the entire evening avoiding your gaze, the argument from earlier still fresh and raw. Both of you were acting like children after a petty feud over a toy, going out of your way to avoid acknowledging each other.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice. "The dessert is innovative and beautifully executed. It’s exactly what I envisioned for the banquet."

Your eyes flickered with a mix of surprise and annoyance, recognizing the lie she’d just pushed through her teeth. She hadn’t envisioned anything—you’d fought tooth and nail over every detail up until hours ago.

"Thank you, Momo," Your voice strained in an attempt to stay polite. "I'm glad it meets your expectations."

The air grew thicker with obviously unspoken words. Momo’s parents exchanged another glance, sensing the underlying tension.

Mr. Hirai cleared his throat. "It’s important for us to be honest during these tastings. If there’s anything that needs to be improved, now is the time to speak up."

Momo felt her irritation grow. "I said it's fine, Father."

"Momo, we're just trying to help.” Her mother interjected gently, “If there’s anything you're not happy with, you need to communicate that."

That’s when you decided to step in, your tone sharp. "I think we all understand the importance of feedback. I have to say Momo's input has been invaluable—despite her current silence."

Momo's eyes flashed with anger. "Invaluable? Really? Seems to me like my input has been more of an inconvenience to you."

Your jaw clenched. "I never said that. But if you actually participated instead of hovering, it might be more constructive."

"Participated?” She shot back. “You mean following your every whim? I have better things to do than micromanage your kitchen."

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. You caught Momo's parents looking between you and their daughter, realizing just how deep the rift had reached.

Mrs. Hirai spoke up first to try and defuse the situation. "Let’s not forget why we're here. The food is excellent, and we’re all looking forward to the banquet. Let’s focus on that."

Momo took a deep breath, faking a smile. "Yes, Mother. You're right. The food is great. Let's enjoy it."

But the damage was done. The altercation had cast a shadow over the evening and lingered in the air, unresolved and simmering just below the surface.

—

The kitchen was finally empty, the last of the staff having been dismissed for the night. You leaned against the counter, the cool steel pressing into your back as you took a moment to breathe. The day had been long and grueling, but at least the tasting was a success, earning yourself and your brigade a few days of rest before the banquet.

You should feel relieved, at least a little bit, you knew that. Yet you couldn’t break free from the weight of the air around you, mounted with tension from yours and Momo’s altercation.

It was suffocating. The hold she had on you, you could say you’d allowed it if only you could put a stop to it. If you at least wanted to make it stop…

The sound of the door to the kitchen creaking open halted your thoughts and Momo stepped inside. You could tell by the heels clicking softly on the tiled floor, and the way you instantly straightened yourself.

You watched her approach with guarded eyes, noticing her arms crossed over her chest. You mirrored her posture when she came close enough, crossing your own, guarding yourself up.

Momo noticed, eyes flickering to the tattoos peeking from beneath your rolled-up sleeves. She hadn’t seen those a lot, only finding out you had them when she started hanging around the kitchen more. Might have been a reason for her to do so, asking you to go and reach for utensils high-up just to peek.

She shook the thoughts away, finding your eyes and focusing on them. “Hey,” she began, her voice softer than you were used to. “Good job.”

The words almost made you choke. You swallowed hard, mouth drying up at the bitterness suddenly filling your heart. Momo waited for an answer, probably feeling entitled to one before she remembered you’d never given in to her.

“How are you feeling?” She tried again, leaning against the counter across from you. Her soft tone matched her eyes this time, so you allowed yourself to answer her.

“Fine, I guess.” You shrugged, eyes sweeping the floor. “It went well.”

She nodded, hesitating. “Yeah, it did. My parents were impressed.”

“That’s good to hear.” You replied, not looking at her.

Momo took a deep breath, steeling herself. "About earlier... I'm sorry. I’m the one who started yelling. Wasn't really professional of me."

You chuckled, finally meeting her eyes. "Did you just apologize? Didn't know you had it in you."

Her irritation flared once more. "I'm serious, Y/n. I get that this isn’t something you’re used to from me, but I can admit I was out of line."

"Okay, okay," you said, raising your hands. "Apology accepted."

You were so… nonchalant about it. As if you couldn’t care less. If you were honest, you could, but the reaction you were having didn’t exactly reflect that. It wasn’t the one she expected and she didn’t like it.

She almost started another argument before catching herself. Her jaw clenched, holding back some words to replace them with others she deemed more… gentle. Better suited to air out her frustrations. “Why are you still so defensive? The tasting went well anyway, didn’t it? Everything was perfect, my parents loved it, and everything has your name on it. You got what you wanted so why the attitude? Stop being so childish.”

That kind of shut you up. Momo couldn’t believe the silence that followed her words. She was right, you were adult enough to admit that. Just not enough to do it out loud. Not enough not to talk back.

You just had to do it for some reason. Maybe it was because her words struck a nerve, hitting closer to home than you were willing to admit.

"Fine," you muttered. "But you’re not exactly making it easy."

You honestly felt like a child, not being able to process or understand what's happening, so you took out your frustrations the only way you knew how to : throwing a tantrum.

Momo sighed, exasperated. "Are you going to keep this up during the banquet too? Does talking back to me and disregarding me turn you on or something?"

You scoffed, but it’s painfully evident in the moment, that you’re indeed attracted to her. But you’d never admit that either. You wouldn’t because, apart from her being attractive, you can’t tell why that is. “You wish.”

“You know what, maybe I do.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat, and Momo caught you struggling. She wanted—no, she needed—to let you know. That you couldn’t hide from her. Yet her lips refused to do anything else than let you know her own truth.

“Maybe then I could make a reason out of your behavior,” she whispered, words trembling in frustration.

Silence. Not an uncomfortable one, but odd. Eerie. Neither of you knew what the next words would be or where they’d come from, but you sure were getting ready for them.

Her eyes weren't looking into yours anymore. They were searching, reflecting, maybe even reaching out to her own fears. You saw it—the shift, the hesitation.

You didn’t expect her to speak up first.

“If you can’t do it for me then do it for yourself,” she started, “If this fails my family will take a hit, sure, but ultimately you and I both know we’ll be fine. Your career’s the only thing on the line here.”

Her voice was cold, icy, cutting through your ego with reminders of where you stood in this environment. In this industry. She jabbed her finger against your chest, making each one of her points clear and painful.

So you grabbed her hand, pushing it down with enough force to make a statement and let your stubbornness shine through yet again

"Don't," your voice low, enough of a threat to pull a reaction out of her too.

Momo's patience snapped. She grabbed a fistful of your white button-up, creasing up your pride and pulling you closer, her eyes not leaving yours.

You noticed for the first time, just how pretty she was and how dangerous that is. Your heart was desperate to make you feel it, practically racing against her own.

“You know what,” a smirk quivered on your lips at how tightly she held onto you. “Maybe this is all about more than just work.” You strained out, words slipping and pushing through the limits you’d drawn around her.

You reveled in the way she let you go. Her fist released your shirt, pushing you away only for her fingers to linger on the fabric and keep you from going too far.

You made a point to step back, biting the inside of your lip when she took a stepped forward.

Maybe it did turn you on a little.

"I warned you earlier, didn't I?” Her eyes burned into yours, as if trying to distract you from the weakness she’s been displaying. “You do whatever you want on Friday. One wrong move, and I might just keep my word this time."

"Maybe you should," you retorted, your eyes flashing with defiance, provoking the spark of anger in her own.

Her proximity was intoxicating. It would be betraying your own words, painting a coward out of yourself, but you still tried to step away. Your foot carefully slipped back, ready to carry you elsewhere and flee.

Halfway there, and you were back to square one. Suffocating under Momo’s impulse, drowning into the feeling of her lips continuously crashing against yours…

She pulled you back in even closer, her fist having claimed itself around the fresh crease of your shirt. You didn’t fight to remove it this time, finding it much easier and pleasant to surrender.

Your kisses were vicious against each other’s. Anything but gentle, fueled by anger and weeks of built up frustrations.

You lost yourselves into a simmering attraction neither of you wanted to acknowledge. Even when you found enough strength to pull apart. And even less when you realized just how much it took to do so.

The air seemed to thin out, charged with more tension than it held moments ago. More than ever before.

Your breaths were heavy, mingling with hers as you stared at each other’s features in shock and confusion.

Momo’s eyes were hazy, lips a neat mess and swollen from the kiss. “This doesn’t change anything.” she whispered, visibly shaken by her own actions.

You only nodded, busy trying yet unable to process the depth of what just happened. She slipped herself away from your arms and you watched her go, a mixture of frustration and longing churning in your chest.

The night felt colder, the kitchen emptier as you stood there, thoughts in a whirlwind. The kiss had changed everything and nothing, leaving both of you with more needs and questions than before.

—

“You kissed her?!”

“No, she kissed me!”

“That doesn’t matter!”

It really didn’t, Jeongyeon was right. So you let her slap you on the arm, the sting a light and playful discipline.

A couple of days passed, and you wasted two days of your hard earned break wallowing on your couch until Jeongyeon came by to drag you out of it for brunch. You complained the whole time, for entertainment purposes, but you were thankful for her.

With how busy you’d been since joining Momo, the two of you had only seen each other once. You made sure to keep her updated though, or rather she did by pestering you and teasing you about both your behaviors. She managed to keep herself up to date with every single little thing that had happened between you and Momo.

All except the latest.

“Like it’s my fault?” You argued, “Who wears a cropped dress shirt to a tasting…”

Jeongyeon chuckled at the state of you. All sprawled out on the table, chin resting on your forearm as you played with a few crumbs of your toast. She noticed the way your eyes wandered far away from this table, probably digging into your memories of Momo in that cropped dress shirt.

How pathetic, to her delight.

She shrugged at your words, reaching for her cup. “Less fabric, less stain prone. She’s got a point.”

You threw a piece of bread at her, but she dodged. “Why did she wear a tie then?” You straightened yourself up in your seat. “Seems to me like that would be just as much fabric as a regular dress shirt.”

Jeongyeon rolled her eyes, “Stop blaming the shirt, and get a grip. You kissed her because you like her.”

“Back. I didn’t kiss her, I kissed her back.”

“That’s still a lot of kissing. So you’re not denying it, huh?” She raised an eyebrow, and snickered when you sighed. “You like her.”

You ran a hand through your hair, exasperated. "I don't even know what I feel, Jeongyeon. It's... complicated."

Jeongyeon smirked, leaning back in her chair. "Feelings usually are. But denying it won't make it any less true."

You groaned. "She's infuriating. One minute she's criticizing everything I do, the next she's—."

"Kissing you," Jeongyeon finished, taking a sip of her coffee.

You wanted to knock that smirk of hers (lovingly) off her lips, but resigned, feeling yourself smile at the joke. Too bad she was being truthful too.

"Yeah.” You fiddled with a napkin in your reach, your smile fading as you thought back to the moment. “And it wasn't just a peck, you know? It was... intense."

Jeongyeon chuckled. "Sounds like there's some serious chemistry there. Maybe all that fighting was just foreplay."

You glared at her, but couldn't help the small smile tugging at your lips again. "You're not helping."

She leaned forward, her expression softening. "Look, Y/n, you've always been passionate about your work. Maybe she sees that and respects it, even if she has a hard time showing it. She's probably just as confused about her feelings as you are."

You sighed again, feeling the weight of her words. "Maybe. But what do I do now? She’s git the worst timing ever, we’ve got the banquet coming up; I can't afford any distractions."

Jeongyeon smiled knowingly. "Just be honest with yourself. And let go of your pride a little, who knows, maybe then she’ll be nice to you. If what you both truly want is for that banquet to work out, you’ll know to set this aside for now. Behave, and the rest will follow. Probably."

You gave Jeongyeon a pointed look, clearly unimpressed by her attempt to absolve herself of responsibility. "Probably?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Jeongyeon shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Hey, I'm just here to nudge you in the right direction. The rest is up to you. Relationships are messy, but you'll never know if you don't try."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair again. "I guess you're right. It's just... a very uncharted territory right now."

Jeongyeon nodded, her expression turning sincere. "I know. But she might just be worth getting into it, I mean… I wouldn’t mind letting my guard down around her.”

You rolled your eyes, "Of course you wouldn't."

"You should do the same," she said teasingly. "Seriously, Y/n."

You looked down, a small smile playing at your lips. "Maybe. We'll see."

"That's the spirit,” Jeongyeon grinned. “Now finish that toast and get back out there. You've got a banquet to hold. And a girl to figure out."

You chuckled, “Yeah, I do. Thanks, Jeongyeon."

"Sure. Just invite me to the wedding."

—

Momo stood in front of the grand mirror in her room, adjusting the final touches of her outfit. The sleek black suit, paired with a statement pearl choker, gave her an air of authority and elegance she loved to see on herself. The sharp lines of the fabric contrasted with the delicate jewelry, creating a powerful and refined look.

She glanced at her reflection, taking a deep breath to steady herself. Her mind raced with thoughts of the evening ahead, the guests, the speeches, the food, and most of all, you.

Since that kiss, everything had become a whirlwind of confusion. You were infuriating, challenging, and utterly impossible to read. The kiss had only complicated things further, as if that relationship needed another tangled strain. What was she thinking… It was hard to focus on anything else when she replayed the moment in her mind, over and over again. Your lips on hers, the intensity, the fire—it had been unexpected, unplanned, and yet, it felt strangely good.

And then there was Jihyo. The situation with her was just as headache inducing. Jihyo's texts, her father's manipulations, and the pressure to stay in the company-everything just kept weighing on her. Yet somehow, in the midst of it all, she didn't mind any of it. As if the kiss had awakened something in her, something allowing her to bear all that weight. She hadn't felt that in a long time. It made her question everything, including her feelings for you and what she truly wanted for her future.

She didn’t like that. But she didn’t exactly mind it either.

As she walked into the venue, her eyes scanned the room, filled with guests fighting for best dressed mingling along with some others… settled for comfort. The atmosphere was buzzing, poking at Momo's racing heart. She felt nervous, not just from the pressure of the evening, but from the thought of seeing you again. She hadn't seen you since that night in the kitchen, and she wasn't sure what to expect.

It took a while, but her eyes finally found you across the room, looking dapper in your chef's uniform. For the first time, as a sign of gratitude and hopefully good news for your future, you were made to wear the official uniform of the Hirai kitchens. The jet black jacket, adorned with the restaurant's insignia, felt weird and new, but the colors … You could get used to them, and the material was soft enough.

You were talking to one of the guests, a polite smile on your face, but she could see the tension in your posture. You must have felt her gaze because you looked up, eyes locking with hers for a brief, electrifying moment.

You took Jeongyeon's advice to heart, determined to behave, to keep things professional despite the need to lash out at your own confusing feelings, and by extension; her. So you approached her cautiously, using the distance separating her from you to try and calm that pounding in your chest.

"Momo," you greeted, your voice came out steady enough, but your eyes betrayed your nerves.

"Y/n," she replied, her own voice calm.

You stood there for a moment, the silence hanging heavy with the memory of your kiss, a palpable tension neither of you could ignore.

"You look nice. Very professional," You finally said, breaking the silence. Your words were sincere, and for a moment, Momo's heart slowed.

"Thank you," she replied, a small smile playing on her lips. "You look... different."

You chuckled, the sound easing some of the tension. "Yeah, I do. It feels weird but... good."

You stood still. Just there, awkward and unsure, the weight of the evening pressing down on you. Anyone passing by could tell there was something between you two, although not able to put their finger on it. Not any more than you could. But you tried; to find a way to move forward without letting your emotions get in the way of the night's success.

"I think we should... talk maybe," You said, your voice dropping to a low, almost hesitant tone.

Thankfully Momo nodded, wanting nothing more. Until she remembered where she was. "Yeah, we do. But maybe not here. Later?"

"Later," you agreed, relief evident in your eyes. "For now, let's focus on tonight."

"Agreed," she said, her resolve strengthening. "Let's give them a night to remember."

—

The banquet was in full swing, and Momo couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride as she watched the guests enjoy the evening. After her brief but intense interaction with you, she’d thrown herself full swing into hosting, greeting the most important guests warmly and ensuring everything was running smoothly. She could see you, now dressed in the official Hirai colors, making your rounds with the staff in the kitchen through the glass doors.

She liked the sight. Enjoyed it even.

As the main courses began to be served, Momo took a moment to catch her breath, her eyes scanning the room. Everything seemed perfect, but she knew better than to let her guard down, and just as she was about to step back into the fray, one of the staff members approached her, looking visibly distressed.

"Ms. Hirai, we have a problem in the kitchen," the staff member whispered urgently, causing a surge of anxiety within her.

“What kind of problem?”

"The main course... there's an issue with the meat—well, it’s more the ovens not working properly—but we don't have enough time to fix it without some quick thinking."

Momo's heart picked up the pace again. This could ruin the entire evening.

Without a second thought, she hurried towards the kitchen, her mind racing with solutions. As she entered, she found you there, looking equally concerned.

“Y/n,” she called out, catching your attention. “We have a problem.”

The tension between you both flared up instantly, old arguments resurfacing in the heat of the moment. You tried to stay focused, but her presence was both a distraction and a relief. You were stressed, and seeing her only added to the pressure.

Momo crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing slightly. "What's going on? Why wasn't I informed earlier?"

Your jaw tightened, trying to keep your frustration in check. "It's under control. We have a backup plan. I'm using the emergency meat, but we need to cook it quickly and differently."

"Good," she said, biting back her irritation. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

You paused, debating on teasing her about stepping in, but it wasn't the time nor place. "Can you go around and make sure everyone is on time? Report back to me if there's any issue."

She nodded, her gaze softening slightly. "Got it."

As she moved through the kitchen, checking on the staff and ensuring everyone was on schedule, she couldn't help but notice the tension in your posture. Despite the pressure, you remained in control, your hands moving with precision as you prepped the backup meat. She saw the way your brows furrowed, the way you bit your lip in concentration. It struck her how much you actually cared, how deeply invested you were in all this.

When she returned to you, she gave a quick update. "Everyone's on track. No issues so far."

"Good," you replied, a brief moment of relief flashing in your eyes before the stress settled back in. "Thank you."

Momo only nodded. She wanted to say more, to ease your tension, but the words wouldn't come. So she just took a step back, intending to head back out when her eyes caught sight of a pile of uncut vegetables next to you.

"Is anyone on these?" she asked, motioning to the vegetables.

You cussed under your breath at the sight of them, wiping the sweat from your forehead. The meat chaos had messed with your train of thoughts... "Damn it, no. I completely forgot."

Momo stepped closer, pushing her sleeves up. "Relax. I'll handle it."

"What—Are you sure?"

You would question the move, but the help she was offering was too precious.

Momo nodded, already reaching for a knife. "Yeah. How do you want them cut?"

The way she proceeded to handle that knife shouldn’t have been a surprise. She did belong to a respectable culinary lineage, but seeing her in action was something else entirely.

You felt a strange sense of relief wash over you as you witnessed her skills from the corner of your eye. The fact that she was actually helping you made the situation feel a little less overwhelming.

The two of you worked side by side, and you could feel the tension easing up its hold onto the two of you as the minutes passed.

It was suddenly easier to breathe.

—

Much later in the night than you’d have liked, you stood outside the restaurant, the air of the night cool against your skin as you savored the last drags of your cigarette.

The streets were calm, the occasional hum of traffic in the distance adding a weirdly soothing track to the end of it all.

The banquet, everything had finally come to an end, and successfully, but the lingering thoughts of Momo and your unresolved tension clouded your mind.

You mindlessly watched as the guests left one by one, their laughter and chatter fading as they climbed into expensive cars and drove away. The soft glow of taillights disappeared around corners, leaving the street empty and silent every time.

You exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl into the dark sky above.

Sure, that little moment in the kitchen earlier was nice, but… There was still a lot to work through.

A familiar sound of stilettos against the rough concrete pulled your eyes off and away from some sweet looking Mercedes. It didn’t compete with the sight you knew was awaiting

Momo stepped outside and startled you with a soft, “You smoke too much.”

You looked over, a faint smile on your lips. “Well, I’m trying to quit, but I deserve this one.”

She chuckled, taking a seat beside you. You watched her, feeling bad for the expensive suit you’d eyed any chance you got. All night. “You’ll mess your pretty clothes up,” you said, stubbing out the cigarette.

“Who cares,” she brushed off. “Night’s over anyway.”

You nodded. Couldn’t argue with that. “Congratulations, by the way. Was your mom proud?”

Momo smiled at the recent memory of her parents congratulating and thanking her for her hard work. “Yeah, they both were.”

You eyed her fingers as they fiddled with each other. It made you smile, how no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to hide that shy part of her.

“Was the outfit supposed to be a statement?” you asked, and she shuffled, telling you it might have been. It amused you. “You shouldn’t have. Did it shake you up that much?” You smirked as though you hadn’t gone to cry about it to Jeongyeon.

“About that night…” she trailed off, silently hoping you’d take the reins.

“It’s okay. I won’t tell your suitors.” You shrugged, half-jokingly.

A small, playful but sincere gesture that slapped Momo in the face. She had completely forgotten about her little side quest with the pressure of the past few days. And also because you’ve been the only thing on her heart’s mind since your kiss. Before stepping out to join you, she even cut things off with Jihyo through a text, thinking it was finally the end of it all. She’d forgotten about all the other ones.

“Oh.” She managed to say after slowing her thoughts down. “Thanks.”

“No problem…”

A few long and awkward seconds passed.

“Wait, are you gonna carry on with those?”

Momo pursed her lips, thinking. “I don’t know.”

She really had no idea. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to quit the company anymore. Until her dad told her he’d slowly been warming up to her decision as he left moments ago, she forgot this was her last project.

It was great news, yeah, if it weren’t for one little detail you helped her realise a little too late.

She didn’t want it to be.

Momo cleared her throat, her lips opening and closing a few times before managing to get the words out. “Are you going to stick around?” she tentatively asked.

You shrugged, playing it cool although you had a feeling her question meant good news. Hopefully in both professional and personal parts of your life. “If you want me to.”

Momo grinned, “I wouldn’t mind.”

You nodded, suppressing a smile. “Will you?” you asked, and she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “Will you stick around too? Or are you quitting and leaving the country to become a dance teacher on the other side of the world?”

“How do you know I dance?” She laughed.

“You’re a public figure, Momo. Investments make headlines, especially the heartfelt ones,” you reminded, referring to the time she donated a generous amount to her old dance school in need.

“You’ve been keeping tabs on me?”

“Not really. Just news stuff.”

“Right.” You felt her eyes on you, rightfully suspicious. Another silence settled, although this one was a little less awkward and shorter. “Have you always wanted to be a chef?”

You simply nodded at the question, not wanting to dull the moment with details. “Thank you for the opportunity by the way. I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you, how rude of me.”

“You’re welcome,” she chuckled. “You deserved it. A lot of guests asked me to send their compliments to the chef.”

Her nudge to your ribs made you pull away instinctively, the sudden contact sending a rush of warmth to your chest. You looked down, hiding your smile as your mind rewound back to your first meeting. “You never called me chef, by the way.”

“And I never will,” she said assuredly, making you chuckle. It was all you could do for now with your focus on her hand fiddling with your own, watching as she intertwined her fingers with yours, the other caressing the exposed and sketched skin of your forearm.

She sure had gotten comfortable. The way she leaned into you, her touch becoming more familiar and assured... You wondered where it came from for a second before remembering how bad of a job you were doing at hiding the effect she had on you so far.

Well, if that’s what it got you…

“Bet on that?” You teased. A little provocation, for grounding purposes.

Momo just nodded though, still assured, and it made you even more curious about what she had in mind for her to be. “Why not?” you probed.

She only smiled, observing your features long enough to make you blush in the night. She inched her face closer to yours, her hand squeezing around yours. It felt only natural for you to lean in, and the nose scrunch she did was new, but the grin that came with it had you guessing it was a good thing. She couldn’t help but giggle as you leaned in, and you almost forgot what had pushed you so close until she spoke up.

“I’ll call you much better, and more flattering things than ‘chef’… darling,” she whispered.

You folded immediately, and this time, you were the one that kissed her. This one was much sweeter, softer. Flavors from the night dancing on your lips, teasing the ones on your tongues. Dessert and smoke, a blend of sweetness and bitterness that felt just right.

When you finally pulled apart, breathless, you felt her lips turn into a smirk against yours.. “Doesn't mean we’re done arguing, though.”

“It doesn't?”

She shook her head, her free hand reaching for a displaced lock of your hair. “Not until you quit smoking.”

“I told you I’m already trying to.”

“I know, but I also happen to think you look hot doing it.”

“Can’t wait to fight about me being hot then.”

———

epilogue if you want

@cry4mina thank you for supportively bullying me to finish this i hope you liked it

[was-theoretically-theo]

I have also provided my answers even though you didn't ask because it felt rude not to do so. Anyway answer the ones you are comfortable answering. 👀

Your comfort food? (Chocolate, Pizza and sweets preferably Indian)

Your comfort ice cream flavour? (Chocolate. Obviously)

Your favourite individual artist/song if any? (I am not answering this one way too many options.)

Any band you like? I want to confirm. (Eh not really a big big fan of any)

Have you played any sport? If yes then name them.

Your comfort past time? (Hmm staring at the ceiling? Or if I am alone at home then I do things that I like, like drawing, singing, etc it changes from time to time.)

Movies or series? Or does it depend on the story? (Depends)

Hardcover or paperback? (Well not allowed to read soooo)

Comfort fandom? Not the one that you mostly indulge in but the one that feels like home or the one you always come back to. It can be the same or different. I want both the names. Thank you. (Harry Potter for me also the only books I was able to buy after literally crying for them on my birthday three years ago. It's been three years what the fuck-)

Picnic or order in and sleepover? (It is a order in and sleepover for me. This reminds me that I have never done a sleepover before, as you can guess, I am not allowed to hang out with friends outside of classes or birthday parties. Or more like I am allowed but the tantrums, taunts and excuses never end so I prefer not to hangout or invite people over. I don't like parties that much so I don't really have any and also let's be real I don't have close enough friends to party with, at the moment. I used to have but not anymore. I am not going to party with eh casual friends or accquantinces.)

Headphones or speakers (Headphones when I listen to songs and speakers when I dance or try to dance.....)

What all instruments you play? (Not good at any but Guitar, Keyboard, Harmonium)

Beach or mountains? I personally go for mountains or in general public places where there is no public.

Good to know..

COMFORT FOOD(s): pomegranate acai refresh’r Bubble’r, Dark Chocolate LINDOR Truffles, and bread.

COMFORT ICE CREAM FLAVOR: French Vanilla.

MY FAVOURITE SONG: a well respected man- the kinks/Lemon boy- Cavetown

BAND: the kinks/The Beatles/ the crickets

SPORT: not willingly.

COMFORT PASTIME: Writing.

MOVIES OR SERIES: series.

HARD COVER OR PAPER BACK: hard cover.

COMFORT FANDOM: asoue

Just no.

HEADPHONES OR SPEAKERS: headphones. I like to listen to what I like without people questioning me or whatever.

INSTRUMENTS I PLAY: piano, keyboard, harmonica, flute, ukulele, guitar, drums, cello, and I’m currently practicing violin.

BEACH OR MOUNTAINS: I only go out when it’s cloudy but whichever is empty

[pakioki]

Yes ofc! Your hard work really shows, I think everything blends together quite pleasantly. ahh really? What kind of cake do you like? There's so many flavors, personally I find it hard to decide. The nickname dear is cute! Please, keep using it. (≧∇≦)

Oh, thank goodness. Ahh I was worried I'd overwhelm you!

Woah, 4am wake up time? Is your commute that long? Or is it classes that force you up that early? What do you study? Henna is so pretty!! Omg I don't think I've met someone who does it before, it's cool to meet someone new !! ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

I'd be more than happy to be your hand model but I must warn you I use my hands frequently. </3 The stain would likely fade quicker, though I suppose that'd make a good excuse for me to come back. ( ˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵ ) ahh your reasonings for your interests are endearing, having such long standing things is sweet! What kind of things do you write? What'd you draw? What has been your favorite henna design you've done?

Ahh my hobbies & interests? I enjoy baking, exploring, cleaning (if that counts?), video games, etcetc. The list is a little underwhelming, I apologize haha. I am interested in getting into pottery though that'll have to wait for now as my circumstances wont permit me to pick it up atm.

Oh that's adorable! The name I mean, ha. It's awful it passed after a couple days :( bugs life spans are always so short. A cat? Oh! What kind? I don't own any pets, sadly however the people I'm moving in with do! ( ˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵ ) two cats! Once I live on my own I'd like to get a cat, they are my favorite. <3

Your plan sounds lovely! Would you prefer to make more money than your partner or would you want it to be equal or does it not matter? Haha we'll see about making those dreams come true.

Mm I don't have anything very grand either, truth be told! I'd like to get a decent job (or not work at all. . . but that's besides the point and also, impractical.), find a lover (or friends but, yk, a lover is ideal.), I suppose finding satisfaction as well? For as vague as that is, haha. <3 It seems like a lot of our goals overlap, how cute!

Ahh you're right, I guess you do learn a lot through surface level questions haha. Thank you for that new perspective, Kio!

My favorite color is brown! I adore most shades. Navy blue and cream are also close second and third respectively. Food, oh good question! I guess I really like sweets? Specifically things with strawberries and vanilla! (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈) Though something with apples also isn't too bad, as for why? I just really like vanilla centered things! Mm I'm feeling okay! I cut my tongue though and kept spitting up blood this Moring, ew haha. Not a pretty sight, I must admit. Ahh that aside I feel fine, a tad cold though. You? How are you feeling? haha it's funny you ask, I am actually quite tired, if you're still offering I'd gladly fall asleep in your arms! I adore cuddling, I've been told I'm a touchy person IRL haha. (๑'ᵕ'���) mm I left yan sphere because I had an unrequited obsession but also! I hated how jealousy made me feel, you know? How all consuming it becomes and how emotionally reliant I became on that persons acknowledgment. I realized I didn't care about them, I was just dealing with a rush of infatuation and I think that's what threw me off most as it was the hardest to admit. Mm honestly I think I've become more of a darling than a yandere atp, though I do still deal with obsession. </3

Thank you! My day has gone well, I went out on a walk and made coffee, Kio!! Do you like coffee? If not than what do you like? How would your ideal morning go? What's your day to day like? Favorite animal? Favorite song rn?

ahh I apologize for how long this took me, btw!! Ha I was asleep when you responded and got interrupted when writing my reply. Please get back to me when you can but again, no rush! I hope your family situation clears soon. <3

Sincerely, 🍰.

My misery has been eliminated, my dear cake is backk yayy!!

I love all types of cake, cake is cake! ^^ it really hard to decide but if I really wanted someone to gift me cake, I’d want a chocolate cake or cheesecake.. waah I’m hungry for cake now but my entire family LOVES terumatsu cake. Sometimes when I or my sister come home during breaks they buy it for us. My dear cakeee mwahh!! So glad you like your nickname 🫶 I’ll definitely keep calling you that!

No I sleep the dorms, a lot of my classes are just really early and really late, regular times are normally 6am - 8pm. Today it’s been way busier so I had to wake up earlier to finish everything. I study computer science, my sister studied it too since our parents wanted us to. Unfortunately I didn’t really have a choice..

Henna was always a dream for me. It’s my dream job but I doubt I can make a living off of it. My favourite henna design are always the ones that take days to make, for some reason I can’t do henna in one sitting, I have gaps between each time I do it. What are you doing with your hands huh? hmm..? is it loving me and stroking my hair before I sleep?

I like writing the yandere things you see me writing here, sometimes conspiracy theories, for games, movies etc. Depending on the subject making a college essay is actually fun sometimes.. I have a love for writing in all areas.

I used to draw a lot of landscapes, animals, etc. I always avoid drawing humans for some reason.. they were really hard to draw for me but I’m getting better! ^^

Ooo you have such interesting hobbies..Let’s bake together! We should have those joined sinks and wash dishes together dear! I bake here and there sometimes, I also cook for my family whenever I go home. Exploring? You remind me of my childhood where I’d make friends with random kids in weddings and go explore with them. Unfortunately making friends now is way harder.. Do you want to travel together? Explore different places? That’d be fun! What video games do you play? The only ones I mainly play now are Genshin and Roblox sometimes but I never really have time to play. I also wanted to take pottery.. I plan on getting classes for it! I also want to crochet but my situation doesn’t allow me time to practice at all. :(

Your neighbours are so lucky.. I want cats so fricken badly!! I want a ragdoll cat mainly but I’ll take any cat! Ragdolls just look so fluffy and cute.. they look so friendly too! What type of cat do you want? Maybe if we move together we could have a lot of cats..

The roles to me don’t matter, I could be a housewife or a worker. You wanna be my dear housewife/househusband with your love of cleaning and baking? I could work a job for you! I’m used to long hours and multitasking so it’d be perfectly fine to me! Nor do I care about money, we should at least be making enough money for essentials and a few luxuries, thats all.

Similar goals eh? I love giving people new views and perspectives, you never know, surface level questions could end up being more deeper questions the more you proceed with them.

Brown.. reminds me of chocolate cake and sweets, it matches your vibe! My favorite color is pink if you couldn’t tell from the entire vibe of the blog! Even your favorite foods match your person! :) I also love vanilla centered things but I hate jam centred things.. I just dislike them especially if jam falls on my clothes :( it’s a pain to get the stain out

You cut your tongue?? Are you okay? do you need me to kiss it close? I feel exhausted today.. I helped some people with their problems, assignments breakups, etc and I’m absolutely RUINED :(( I’m a very social and extrovert person so talking doesn’t make me tired at all but today it took such a big hit on me.. someone gave me a lollipop but it tasted absolutely disgusting. I love cuddling too!! It makes my heart flutter whenever I think of sleeping and cuddling in my darling’s lap and forget all my problems. It is really cold out today for me too. I went outside without a jacket cause it didn’t match my outfit, I ended up getting absolutely freezing and miserable after! ^^

Your explanation is actually very interesting.. I like your point of view on it. I don’t have much to say about it but my respect for you has definitely increased!

I LOVE coffee, I hate black coffee though, it tastes absolutely disgusting (no offense if you like it ofc! It’s just my opinion) I prefer my coffee with sugar and I’ll be happy! My ideal morning is me waking up, actually having breakfast on time, then taking care of my face by putting a face mask/treatments etc. Honestly having a full productive day is hard for me, a few parts of my day become productive but then I lost my thought process and get distracted. My day to day life isn’t too fun, it’s just wake up, classes, lunch, classes/study in the library , go back to dorms, do more homework and other thing, sleep. Sometimes fun things come up here and there but thats my normal day.

My favourite animal is cats! They’re so cutee!! I’d let them scratch me and hurt me and I’ll still love them like they’re my guardian angel.. my favorite song currently is “moon girl” by temachii, I saw it randomly on my fyp and it sounds so pretty! Whats your favourite song? Can I listen to it? Whats your favourite animal and why?

It’s okay! This took especially long to write too ahaha.. I’m used to writing long so it’s fine for me! I just take a while since I’m not the best writing in English. Thank you for being so thoughtful and not rushing me. My family situation is getting much better! Thank for your concern

I was wondering.. what are your pronouns and do you prefer me call you by feminine name (like housewife, wife etc?) or more masculine names?

Love you so!

[robininthelabyrinth]

i've been keeping a list of possible prompts for you and there's one i have no memory of adding that just says "courtesan nmj????" so i guess that's the prompt you're getting lmao

What Does the Fox Say - ao3

“Second Madame Nie!” a disciple shouted, rushing into her little garden. She didn’t recognize him, but he was solidly built and well-muscled like most of the others – truly, the Unclean Realm was a rapturous feast for one with eyes to see it. Yum, yum. “Second Madame Nie, I have bad news!”

Boo. She hated bad news: bad news meant she’d have to do something, usually, and right now she was seated very comfortably in a pleasant piece of sun in the garden path that’d been made up just for her and to her preferences, with her feet up on a chair and a full plate of fruit from the kitchen on the table in front of her just begging to be devoured, morsel by delicious morsel.

Her schedule was packed!

“I regret to tell you, but your husband has been killed!”

“Oh,” she said, frowning slightly. “Has he? How obnoxious of him.”

How unreliable. Men.

She sighed.

“Second Madame – Second Madame – you don’t understand!” The disciple was all red-eyed and weepy, which was a look she liked, especially in big, stout men like this. The salt added a bit of spice to the whole thing. “You must flee at once! He was killed by Sect Leader Wen in an act of outright aggression – Sect Leader Wen has declared war – the Wen sect is invading!”

She nodded and picked up another lychee to start peeling it. She’d get around to fleeing in her own time. As long as this Wen sect or whatnot was being led by a man, she wasn’t terribly concerned.

“They intend to wipe out the inheritance of Qinghe Nie! They will rip out the child in your belly!”

She hummed noncommittally. Really, how attached was she to having a child of her own? Really?

“They will slaughter civilians – execute Nie-gongzi –”

Her hands stilled.

“What,” she said, and the disciple took a step back automatically, proving that he, at least, had something more of a survival instinct than her late husband did. “Hurt my little meat bun? My darling rice roll? My savory zongzi?”

She stood up, diminutive height and over-large belly and frilly clothing doing absolutely nothing to diminish the vaguely menacing aura that darkened the sky around her. She bared her teeth.

“Who does this upstart Wen dog think he is?!”

The disciple blinked owlishly, but nodded, seeming relieved that she’d finally accepted his concern, though she could see on his face that he was thinking that her reasoning was – characteristically – a little strange. But then again, and she could see this thought process on his far too honest face, it was well known that the second Madame Nie been quite strange ever since Sect Leader Nie had found her in some lonesome place with no family or background and brought her back to be his new wife nevertheless.

Such a charming man. Pity about his loss, really.

“You have to flee at once, we can’t possibly fight so many people,” the disciple said once more, and this time she nodded in agreement. “We can escort you to a hidden exit –”

“No!” a little voice called. “We can’t go.”

She turned to look, and there was the little pork-and-shrimp dumpling himself, chubby-cheeked and earnest-eyed, looking as delicious as always.

“What do you mean, fish cake?” she asked. “Of course we have to go. Didn’t you hear what this strapping young man said? This Wen person wants to kill you!”

“If Father is dead, then I’m the sect leader,” her stepson said. He was serious and solemn in a way that made her want to pinch his cheeks and bury her face into his belly to blow raspberries, and also possibly to eat him right up, flesh and marrow and gristle and all. “That means it’s my responsibility to preserve the Nie sect.”

“Nie-gongzi, no!” the disciple cried, throwing himself to his knees in a dramatic display of loyalty. “You would only die – far better for you to run, and live!”

“Then isn’t the same true for everyone else?” the tasty little dish asked, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting. Possibly he was trying to put on a fierce expression, maybe, she couldn’t quite tell sometimes. He was so cute. “Why should I live, and them not? I refuse to buy my life with their deaths!”

“But – Nie-gongzi –”

Her charming little honey cake shook his head and held up a hand to stop the disciple, turning to look at her instead.

“Second Mother,” he said, and he had that wholesome trusting expression again that was such a perfect little one-shot-kill to the heart, ugh. “You always said you’re the best at hiding. The best in the world, no one better among all the gods or demons!”

She was, too. She couldn’t help but preen a little, proud.

“– can’t you do something?”

“Oh, darling cabbage bun,” she said, not without fondness. “I can hide myself from even the net of Heaven itself if I so choose, from gods and demons alike, and I can most certainly hide a small group from any mortal eyes that dare to look, if you don’t mind being a little tiny bit dishonorable about the business. But an entire sect? That’s a bit much, even for someone as talented and skilled as me.”

Her stepson looked up at her, all straight-steel sincerity and upright righteousness wrapped into a perfectly edible little snack-sized package. “If we split them up, the sect could be small groups,” he said eagerly. “Couldn’t you do something then?”

He was so cute, and he trusted her. He trusted her, believed in her, felt that she could perform miracles with a wave of her sleeve if only she so wished.

It was awful.

She couldn’t bear it.

“Oh all right, you nummy little slice of roast pork belly,” she said, yielding. “But I’m telling you now, it won’t be the least bit honorable! There’s only so many excuses you can come up with for having a lot of strong men with wide shoulders and women with thick thighs hanging around, and not a single one of them has the slightest bit to do with what you people consider to be appropriate.”

“That’s all right. Preserving human life comes first, always.”

The disciple looked between them, clearly completely confused. Clearly all his effort had been spent on developing the muscles in his arms (quite nice) rather than his brain (quite slow).

“What?” he said. “What’s happening?”

“We’re saving the sect,” Nie Mingjue announced happily, clapping his hands together. Too precious, too precious entirely; she’d have to make sure no one else even thought about going near her darling little snackling. “Tell everyone to prepare to evacuate.”

“That will take too long,” she said, and smiled, with teeth. “Let me call some friends to help.”

-

When the Wen sect arrived at the Unclean Realm, they found the gate open.

That was unexpected enough, but when they entered, they found that the entire place had emptied out – not just of people, but of everything else, too. There wasn’t a single intact chair or table in the entire place, not a scrap of cloth nor a bit of food, like it’d been swept clean by locusts or wild monkeys come to pilfer whatever they could.

Even the paving stones where arrays had been laid out by the Nie sect’s ancestors had been pried up and carted away.

Sect Leader Wen ordered a search, but there wasn’t any trace of it – of the people, of the stuff, anything.

No one ever found out what happened.

-

Jin Guangyao despised social events, he’d found.

It was one thing when it was something he’d planned himself, where the work was interesting enough to distract him, but when he was an honored guest for someone else…miserable. Utterly miserable.

The only thing more miserable was when the host was his erstwhile father, from whom he’d forcefully extracted recognition. With Wen Ruohan as his backer, indulging his favorite torturer as if a beloved pet, there wasn’t much Jin Guangshan could do to refuse, and neither could he force Jin Guangyao to do anything on his behalf, either. And so Jin Guangyao, sitting as always by Wen Ruohan’s side, right beneath his sons, was now an honored guest at his father’s house, getting offered his pick of prostitutes as if the man had no notion of the irony.

Maybe he didn’t. Jin Guangyao couldn’t quite tell if his father had just forgotten his origins, thinking his bastard son too unimportant to remember the details of, or whether it was meant as a deliberate insult – who could tell?

“Oh, right,” the simpering idiot in front of him, a nephew or cousin of some sort to the sect leader, said. “Our dear Jin Guangyao is known not to like the gentle flower queens, even when they come from the finest houses in Lanling. Isn’t that right, cousin?”

Jin Guangyao’s fists clenched. A deliberate insult, then.

Despite that, his face remained neutral. Instead, he chuckled and said, “The appeal is limited. After all, I have seen the best of them.”

Beside him, Wen Ruohan nodded and smirked. He appreciated Jin Guangyao’s devotion to his mother, though Jin Guangyao suspected it was because he thought it funny that Jin Guangyao would bother to honor such a lowly woman – but what he thought didn’t matter, not really. All that mattered was that he let Jin Guangyao pay his respects to her to his heart’s content.

“Well, you’re in luck!” the idiot Jin Zixun said, looking absurdly smug. “We have something of a different flavor than the usual tonight – we’ve invited entertainment from the local branch of Splendid Spring.”

Jin Guangyao barely managed to avoid rolling his eyes.

The Splendid Spring Palace was a series of brothels that had popped up fully formed just about everywhere some years back, with madams and girls and musicians and bodyguards of all sorts. It was so patently a political move that Jin Guangyao had barely bothered to pay attention to it once he’d become actually powerful, and Wen Ruohan hadn’t paid attention to it at all. After all, in the unlikely event that the business really was backed by a cultivation sect that didn’t care about its face any longer, anyone who needed to use such a façade to gather power was clearly beneath notice.

Jin Guangyao had paid only very little attention, but to different and unusual aspects of the place: by all accounts, they were surprisingly decent employers as far as places like that went. They didn’t steal girls or accept unwilling goods – they had some connection with the merchant caravans, or at least one of the companies that helped coordinate routes and provide protection to such things, and they were as meticulous about checking things over as they were about seeking refunds if they were dissatisfied – and they did accept married girls fleeing unhappy marriages, which not everyone did. They did buy up all the girls in the local markets wherever they were, but they swept them away and brought them back transformed, even the ones that wouldn’t sell because they were too ugly; Jin Guangyao assumed that meant they had people who were talented in make-up and clothing, since the usual rumors of the girls being blessed with a yao’s enchantment were obviously ridiculous and nothing more than the usual marketing gimmicks that brothels since time immemorial had tried.

Even once they had the girls in hand, the places were pretty decent: they had physicians on staff to help with the usual side effects of the business, made sure their girls were clean and healthy, and were said to even limit the number of customers a girl would be obliged to take on in a given evening…honestly, knowing as he did the brothel business, Jin Guangyao sometimes wondered how they’d managed to bespell enough people to even make money in the early days. At any rate, whatever they’d done, it’d worked, because by now they had a solid enough reputation to trade on.

In short: a decent enough place, far better than the usual run of the mill. Once he’d had the ability to do so, he’d even pulled a few strings and arranged for the better of his mother’s old compatriots to end up there, since he couldn’t convince them to leave their old professions behind entirely.

Anyway, if they also seemed to have a sideline in information brokering and assassinations, well, let them. In the cultivation world, where the only thing that mattered was strength, real strength.

A little thing like that wouldn’t make any real difference.

Or so Jin Guangyao had thought.

He found himself re-thinking that, though, when the entertainment in question came out. There were the usual set of attractive (albeit in a wider variety of shapes and sizes than usually seen) dancers, dressed up in silks that seemed actually high quality, and plenty of strapping young men carrying sabers – dancers as well, once assumed, to provide some spice to the entertainment, and implicitly on the offer for men who cut their sleeves or women with more flexibility, like widows or ones with especially permissive husbands. Wen Ruohan’s wives were in that latter category, and they were already whispering to each other excitedly, looking at them.

They’d even brought in the local madame, who was…

Well, she was actually breathtaking, even by Jin Guangyao’s extremely jaded standards. She had hair that fell almost all the way to her ankles, shimmering in the light, and dark eyes shining with liveliness, a smooth and ageless face that simultaneously suggested youth and health but also winked at knowable experience, the features characteristic of what his mother’s employers had called the ‘fox-face’. As if to emphasize that, the lady was wrapped in fox-fur and draped in embroidered brocade, with little stylized foxes running up and down the hems of her clothing and along the gazy silk draped on her shoulders.

It ought to have looked absurd, looked gaudy and overwrought and overdone, but it didn’t.

She was a thousand dreams of wealth and beauty and power and sex appeal all wrapped up in one, and even Jin Guangyao – who was in his personal preferences quite firmly a cutsleeve – couldn’t help but intrigued by her, wondering what it might be like to touch the hem of such a glorious creature.

And next to her…

The lady was accompanied by two men that seemed completely different from each other. One was a slender and winsome young man, fluttering his eyelashes from behind a fan with a charming smile, emanating the appeal of softness and weakness, ready to be indulged. While the other…

Jin Guangyao swallowed.

He was the exact opposite of the first man. Clearly strong, muscular and powerful, and tall to the point of towering, with wide shoulders and a narrow waist, a chest that you could lean your head against and an ass that begged to have someone’s hands on it – and there were his hands, big and broad, perfect for holding someone down or up if they so wished and of a size that was very promising as to what was only hinted at under his clothes. His face was hidden behind a veil as if he were a woman, marking him, like his comrade, as one of the available courtesans of the Splendid Spring, but his body was visible under clothing clearly cut to put it to the best advantage.

And oh, what advantages it had…!

“It seems we found something to the tastes of dear cousin Guangyao after all,” the idiot said mockingly, sniggering and snorting like the pig he was, and for once Jin Guangyao didn’t even care.

“Who’s the woman in front?” Wen Ruohan asked, ignoring their interplay. He seemed utterly fascinated, almost spellbound, and Jin Guangyao couldn’t blame him one bit. If this woman had been at the same brothel as his mother, there wouldn’t have even been room for jealousy or shame; his mother would have gone straight up to her to ask for some tips. “She seems…familiar, somehow.”

“That’s the madame of the Splendid Spring,” Jin Zixun said proudly, as if he’d done anything at all in relation to this – nonsense, of course. Everyone know which brothels were backed by the Jin sect, and Splendid Spring wasn’t one of them. He was acting as if he deserve a pat on the back just for the introduction! “That means she’s not for sale.”

His smile faded a little, twisting in a small bit of bitterness. “Or so she told my uncle, anyway…although I’m sure if it were Sect Leader Wen asking, the answer would undoubtedly be different.”

Probably because Jin Guangshan couldn’t slaughter prostitutes with impunity if they said no to him, whereas no one could stop Wen Ruohan from doing any damn thing he pleased.

Wen Ruohan grunted, pleased by the answer – he was a possessive man, in the rare events that he did exert himself in the realm of women, and there had been more than one instance where he’d stolen away some girl his sons had been eyeing first just for the joy of having had her first – and raised a hand, catching the lady’s eye and gesturing for her to come over, which she did.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

She laughed. “You can call me Hu Jiuwei. With the ‘Hu’ being the character for fox.”

Jin Guangyao tried not to choke. There were false names and then there were false names – the lady’s theme was already clearly related to foxes, given her fox-face and fox-fur lining and the foxes embroidered onto her robes. Was the over-the-top name really necessary?

“It’s a fake name,” she added, unnecessarily.

“I see,” Wen Ruohan said, sounding a little choked himself. Possibly it was the woman calling herself ‘Foxy Ninetails’ and then kindly reassuring them all that the name was false as if she thought them too dumb to figure it out that was tripping him up a little. Jin Guangyao couldn’t tell if she was doing it deliberately in order to make her frankly inhuman beauty a little less frightening, or maybe she was blessed with so much beauty that she hadn’t bothered to cultivate her brain at all. “Are you our entertainment for the evening?”

She smiled, and any complaints Jin Guangyao (or indeed Wen Ruohan) might have had about her intelligence faded away at once.

It was that type of smile.

You could wreck nations with that type of smile. Jin Guangyao couldn’t help but wonder: how had a woman this extraordinary ended up in a brothel, of all places? How had no one snatched her up to keep her all for himself before now?

“My sons and I –” she gestured at the two behind her, “– would be more than happy to provide you with all the entertainment you could possibly want.”

Her smile widened.

“We’ve been hoping for an opportunity like this for a long time.”

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 12) - Not So Sweet Home

Summary: Jensen is fed up with his parents ignoring Y/N all day and when he gets a moment alone, blows up on them like never before. The reader sees how upset Jensen is over what’s happening and does her best to defend him while still trying to salvage a relationship with them...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 6,200ish

Warnings: language, major family angst, mention of a dead parent

A/N: Eek! If you like angst this part is for you! Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

________

It was late, the kids asleep in the guest bedroom, Jensen’s siblings and their families gone home for the evening aside from his brother. He made some half ass excuse about wanting to hang out with Jensen more but you knew he could sense what you did. Jensen was getting close to popping after a whole day of politeness on his part and his parents ignoring you on theirs.

Jensen was bouncing his knee like crazy as he sipped on his beer around a gas fire pit, suddenly stopping when you shifted in your seat.

“Maybe you ought to cool it with the alcohol tonight,” said his dad. Jensen set his empty bottle down on the grass and breathed deeply through his nose. “Your legs been-”

“Y/N, would you get me another beer please?” asked Jensen. You took the opportunity to get out of there, surprised when the back door opened quickly after you, his brother closing it behind him.

“I don’t think your parents like me very much,” you said, going to the fridge and pulling out a drink. 

“I know,” he said, glancing out the dark window. “Jensen asked me to make sure you don’t come back out there.”

“He’s gonna go off on them.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m guessing,” he said with a sigh. “I have a feeling this isn’t going to go well. You guys can crash at my place if you want. We don’t have a guest room but we have an air mattress we can put in the family room.”

“You think it’ll be that bad?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

“Then why are we in here talking about this when we should be out there making sure he doesn’t say something he regrets in the morning.”

“You might hear things you can’t unhear,” he said. 

“Right now my concern isn’t if my feelings get hurt. He’s really upset and I need him to be okay.”

“You know that’s why the rest of us like you, don’t you? You care about him, the kids. You’re in love with him.”

“Yes I am,” you said as he nodded.

“You call me if either of you ever need anything,” he said, going back to the door. You nodded and took a deep breath, following him outside and already hearing raised voices.

“She’s half your age, Jensen,” said his mom. “She was your nanny. Sweetie you have to know what’s going on here.”

“You’re getting played,” said his father, catching you walking out with Josh.

“She is not half my age. She’s thirty fucking years old! She’s a goddamn adult and been through more shit then both of you put together! She’s not after fucking money,” snapped Jensen who was already out of his seat.

“You’re engaged to the girl after five months!” said his father. “It took you years to propose the first time around!”

“Because I was a nervous kid that was away working constantly. I didn’t want to make Dee stay if it was gonna make her unhappy. I’m not afraid of how I feel anymore because I feel the same about her as I do Dee and I’m not wasting my time so I can stick to your socially acceptable schedule,” said Jensen. “I love her and she’s gonna be part of this family whether you like it or not. Deal with it.”

“You need a prenup,” said his dad.

“No I don’t!”

“Yes you do! You’ve known the girl for not even six months!”

“She’s not up to anything!” shouted Jensen.

“Son-”

“Have you ever lost your wife? Have you ever been in the car and almost die yourself while you watch her breathe for the last time? Where she’s hurt and you can’t do a thing to fix it? Have you ever had to tell your children their mother is dead and she’s not coming back? You have no idea, no idea, what that does to you, how much it hurts and how much it hurts when you’re still so fucked up and your parents start making comments behind closed doors about you and you have to pretend you’re better when you’re really not. When you don’t even care about yourself anymore, when you pretend for everyone’s sake so they stop treating you like a child, when you don’t know how to tell your kids it’s okay because it’s not. It’s not. Until you go through that, until you know how bad it hurts, don’t assume a damn thing about her. She’s my best friend and she makes me feel like my old self again. I laugh and smile and have fun and when I get scared or feel guilty or freak out she makes me feel better. I don’t give a fuck how old she is or what her job was. She’s kind and good and she deserves better than you two. Danneel’s parents like her. Jared’s parents like her. Her old foster dad’s family likes her. Our family likes her except for you two. Get your heads out of your asses or you can not even bother letting me know you exist anymore. I’m done with things hurting the women I care about. I couldn’t stop what happened to Dee but I can sure as hell keep Y/N away from the two of you,” said Jensen. He huffed and walked off, Josh running off after him. 

“Well congratulations. You got your hooks in him deep, don’t you,” said his father. You rolled your eyes and his mother scoffed.

“You can take care of someone without treating them like a child you know. He’s an incredibly strong person. If you don’t like me fine. But don’t call him stupid or easily manipulated or imply that it’s wrong to know you love someone after only a certain amount of time. I love your son.”

“You love his money,” said his mom.

“I do just fine on my own,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “He’s staying at Josh’s house tonight. We’ll pick up the kids in the morning.”

“He’s overreacting. He’ll be fine in the morning,” said his dad. You crossed your arms and leaned your head back. “He’ll be fine.”

“You two don’t know a thing about me and you assume I want money because of my age and my former career. Don’t assume your son will be fine and get over it.”

“We’ve known him a lot longer than you have. He’ll get over it after a night’s rest.”

“You may have known him longer and I’m sure in some regards you do know him better but not the ones that matter. If you did, you would have seen how much he would have loved for the two of you to like me. I would have taken some respect and been happy because trust me, I get how this looks to everyone else. I understand you have fears and I’m not mad you have them. I’m mad you assume those are facts when all they are is a story you made up in your head you don’t want to change. He’s right, I’m not going anywhere. The difference between him and me though is that I’ll stay out here all damn night with the two of you until you get it through your heads that I’m not here to fuck him over. I love him. I don’t have family, not really. Things have always been screwed up for me pretty much until I met him and he didn’t have to say it for me to know that he was hoping he could share the two of you with me. Maybe I was hoping for that too. But right now I’ll take some goddamn respect and an apology to your son to start and we can go from there.”

“You’re gonna curse at us and expect an apology?” said his mom. “We know you took him when he was at his low and tricked him into trusting you so you could get exactly what you wanted.”

“You know what I want? What I’ve always wanted and somehow always seems to get ripped away? A family. A stupid fucking family. Being a nanny? That let me feel like part of the family. I could pretend I was like all of those people I worked for. Nice and normal and like people gave a shit. Some kindness and a family is all I’ve ever wanted. You two...you wouldn’t have survived a day in my childhood. In my adulthood with the shitty ex boyfriend and the crappy friends and I picked myself over all of them because my mom told me to stand up for myself. Even when she couldn’t be there and I wanted her to. So I stand up for myself and now I stand up for him and those three kids to anyone and I mean anyone, that hurts them. He’s my family and those kids are my family. I don’t know what you think I’m gonna do but I guarantee the only thing I will do is tell you two where to shove it and to leave him the hell alone.”

“Why would we believe anything you say? At all?” his dad asked. “It’s probably the same sad story you told him to get him on the line. I don’t buy it.”

“I have a million dollar book deal. I’ve worked rent free for a lot of rich people since I was eighteen years old. Do I sound like someone who needs his money?” you said. You put your hands on your hips and shook your head. “What is it? You want me to sign a prenup? I would but he doesn’t want one. He trusts me and for a guy that lost his wife and had to work through falling in love with another person, I respect that. He knows what he wants and he’s not wasting time. This is scary for him. It’s scary for me. But when Dee’s parents gave me open arms and kindness and their blessing, the last people I ever expected to disapprove were you two. If you’re going to stand there and keeping calling me a liar, I’m going to find your sons and I’m going take care of Jensen instead of wasting my time here.”

“We don’t disapprove of him moving on and marrying again,” said his mom as you turned to walk away.

“Could have fooled me,” you said. 

“He’s going too fast and he doesn’t know you either, not well enough to make a decision like that,” said his dad. You turned around and smiled.

“He knows my favorite color. He knows what my favorite flavor of ice cream is. He knows why I have nightmares and he knows how to make me forget them in the first place. I’m sorry we aren’t doing things on your schedule but it’s his life. He can do whatever the fuck he wants with it, whether that’s me or somebody else. For the record, he knows me just fine. Oh and if this is how you plan on speaking to him again in the morning, I’ll pick up the kids myself.”

“We’re looking out for his best interest,” said his dad.

“No, you think you’re looking at his wallet for him. See money? People think that’s important and it is but best interest? It ain’t that shit,” you said as you started to leave.

“Well what do you assume his best interest is then?” said his mom. 

“Treating him like an adult. He is smart and strong and the most emotionally healthy man I’ve ever met which considering all the fucked up shit he’s been through and felt the past year is really saying something. He’s your child but he’s not a child. He found someone he loves and all he wanted to do was share me with you. This was his worst nightmare and I couldn’t stop it. So if you’re not gonna even try with me, then I’m gonna protect him from you.”

“He doesn’t need protecting from us,” he said.

“You call him stupid and that he can’t take care of himself, that he can be fooled and that the person he thinks is his best friend really only wants him for his money. He knows none of those things are true but it’s what you said to him when you said that about me. For a man who went through what he did, it wasn’t mean. It was cruel. I’m gonna go fix what I can of your relationship with him because despite all that, I know you guys love each other and I’m not letting that get fucked up because you think whatever the hell you think about me.”

You stormed off around the house and found Josh’s truck still there but neither man in sight. You looked around and heard a sniffle, your head going up to the roof. You saw the lattice work on the side and climbed up, peeking your head up to spot the two of them sat on the roof.

“Hey,” you said quietly. Jensen wouldn’t look at you, Josh rubbing his back. 

“Careful,” he said as you climbed up and slowly walked over. You took a seat on your bottom, spotting the window behind them. “That was my room. Jensen used to sneak out this way. I was always too nervous of getting caught to try myself. You landed the bad boy of the family.”

“Oh yeah, such a bad boy,” you said. You scooted closer on your butt to him, Jensen resting his head on his knees. “Hey. Before you even think about it don’t say you’re sorry.”

“I know,�� he said. He took a deep breath but looked up, looking fairly normal aside from a slightly pink nose. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Nobody was,” said Josh. “I’ll give you guys a minute. I’ll be in my car when you’re ready.”

“You should go home,” said Jensen. “Staying in a different house won’t change anything.”

“That was kinda fucked up what they said.” Jensen raised an eyebrow and he shrugged. “I don’t always agree with them. If you guys want to stay, that’s your choice but I’m not going home without telling them what a mistake they’re making.”

“You don’t have to-”

“You’re my little brother and I like her. Even if I didn’t, they’re being assholes and she doesn’t deserve that. You don’t. Alright?”

Jensen nodded and Josh walked off to the lattice and climbed down while you scooted next to Jensen. 

“You thought your siblings weren’t gonna like me,” you said.

“He’s a good person. He’s never told off our parents before so...I don’t know if I’m happy about that or not.”

“He’s a good big brother,” you said, wrapping your arms around him. “I don’t love you for your family though. I don’t care if your parents don’t like me. I’ll deal with it.”

“I wish you didn’t have to,” he said.

“I still like your dad so much better than mine,” you said.

“Yours is a monster to be fair.”

“Yeah, he is. Yours love you and I don’t agree with them but in their minds, they’re protecting you and I don’t have a problem with anyone trying to do that.”

“How are you so fucking kind to them after they basically said you’re with their dumbass son because of money?”

“Like you said, I know monsters. I know toxic and bad. They aren’t it. They raised you and I really, really like you. Good people can be stupid and still be good. In the morning we’ll try again.”

“What if I can’t get them to change their minds?” he said quietly. 

“Jensen,” you said, moving to squat down in front of him. You grabbed his cheeks and he stared at you. “You don’t have to pick anybody over anybody. Maybe I won’t be close with them but that’s okay. It’s so okay. We’ll respect each other or just won’t talk to each other and we’ll figure it out but we don’t have to do it all tonight.”

“I think what bothers me the most is they’ve already made up their minds about you based on your age when they don’t even realize who you are. They don’t see that this is the kind of person you are, kind and supportive and I heard you not taking their bullshit. You’re a stronger person than I am and I wish they could see that the reason I’m not freaking out over this is cause I know you’re my partner and you got my back like I got yours. I’m just having a hard time understanding why they won’t even listen to us.”

“I don’t know,” you said, eyes darting to the window when you caught some movement inside. You narrowed them and glanced down, spotting the crack between the windowsill and frame. “I’m a little cool. I’m gonna get my sweatshirt if that’s okay.”

“Careful climbing in,” he said, turning on his bottom and pushing the window up. You kissed his cheek and climbed inside, the room empty as far as you could tell. You stepped out to the hall and into his old room, getting your hoodie, his old hoodie. You pulled it on but went downstairs, catching his parents in the kitchen with Josh.

“Josh may I speak to your parents in private,” you said.

“Yeah. I’m done here. I’ll be over for brunch, okay?” he said. He walked past you and caught your arm. “Call me if you need me back.” You nodded and he kissed your temple before he went out. 

“Were you eavesdropping on us?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“We went to tell him to get off the roof. We could see him from the backyard up there,” said his mom, putting her back to you as she mixed up something in a mug. “But we heard the three of you talking and then the two of you. We didn’t mean-”

“We are all on the same side. His side. We should get along. It shouldn’t be this difficult and I don’t appreciate private conversations being listened in on. But I hope you understand that you hurt your son. I know you didn’t mean to and it’s the last thing you’d ever want to do to him. But you did. So please try to help me fix this. This isn’t easy for me to accept that you don’t like me either but you’re gonna respect me. If we can respect each other, then he’s not going to worry as much at least. Please promise that we can agree to that,” you said. His parents looked at each other and you sighed. “You have to be kidding me. What do you want me to do? Go away? I can’t do that. I won’t do that.”

“That’s not...Jensen called your father a monster up there,” he said. 

“I thought it was a sob story according to you ten minutes ago.”

“You said you don’t have parents. He said your father is alive.”

“What’s your point, Mr. Ackles,” you said. “Please enlighten me.”

“It doesn’t make much sense to tell different stories,” he said. 

“You can’t even give me the benefit of the doubt that I love your son. Why the fuck would I tell you things only he knows, things so few people know about. Why would I trust you with the worst parts of my life when you don’t accept the best ones. For your information, my birth mother is dead. My adoptive mother is dead. I wish my son of a bitch father was dead. The only glimmer of a parent I have maybe, maybe was my foster father. That was until last weekend. I met some parents. I met Dee’s. I met Jared’s. I got the same message from all of them. Let us know if you ever need anything. Oh the way he looks at you. You must be pretty special. Anything at all, you give us a call. People that don’t even have an obligation to look in my direction treated me like I was their kid. So maybe he and I both got our hopes up with you two and that was on us. If you want to pick apart what I’ve said and call me a liar…” you said, putting your hands on your hips. Your shut your eyes and breathed deeply, turning around. “I don’t care if you have to pretend to respect me. Just do it for his sake and the kids sakes, alright?”

A tissue appeared over your shoulder and you took it, blowing your nose and stepping away. 

“When did your mother’s pass?” you heard behind you. You threw your head back and took a deep breath.

“When I was born and when I was sixteen,” you said, turning around and swallowing. “Why does that matter?”

“When were you adopted?” he asked.

“Why do you care?”

“Please.”

“I was eight,” you said.

“So you only had your mother for eight years then,” he said. 

“Yeah. She got sick when I was fourteen. I stayed with her boyfriend until I moved out for my first nanny job at eighteen. It was all very sad and angsty,” you said.

“Who made the first move?” 

“I’m done with this interrogation,” you said. You started to leave but he stepped in front of you. “What do you want from me?”

“I just want to know who made the first move, you or Jensen.”

“I don’t…” you trailed off. “We had a fight. I told him I didn’t want him to be my friend anymore, he was just my boss and that was it. We couldn’t hang out at night and stuff anymore.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want him to hurt me,” you said quietly. “I didn’t fit with his life. I’m not a pretty actress. I’m not smart. I’m the younger nanny and that’s all I was gonna be until I became an older nanny and that was supposed to be my life. I didn’t ask for…”

“For what?” asked his mother, carrying over her mug and setting it down on the end table.

“I didn’t ask for him to love me. But he did and I don’t know why but I trusted him not to hurt me. It’s not fairytales and roses all day every day but I like having a best friend and I never would have submitted those books to a publisher without him encouraging me and I need him to feel better. He can’t catch a break lately and I hate seeing him upset. It makes me sick to my stomach and I really, really need him to be okay so please stop doing this. Just stop. Please. I don’t care if we have to pretend the rest of our lives but please, I can’t keep seeing him take hit after hit anymore and not being able to stop it.”

You weren’t expecting the hug from his father or to bury your face in his chest for a brief moment. His mom guided you to sit on the couch, pulling a blanket around you. She handed you the mug and you saw it was hot chocolate, your eyes darting back and forth between them.

“This isn’t about to be like a lifetime movie where you murder me, right?” you said. 

“No,” said his mom as she sat next to you. “We hurt you quite deeply today, didn’t we.”

You stared at the mug, holding it in your hands. 

“You were looking forward to meeting us,” said his dad as he sat down on your other side.

“It doesn’t matter. All I care about is him.”

“I don’t think he’d be very happy with you laying down for a semblance of normalcy for him,” he said.

“Just spit out whatever the fuck you want,” you said. You gripped the mug and shut your eyes.

“I’d like you to stop swearing please,” he said. “In exchange, maybe we can have a second chance.”

“Second chance at what?” you said dryly.

“At meeting our son’s fiance.” You lifted your head and stared at him, catching a bashful look you saw in Jensen every so often. “We understand, as well as we can, he was hurt after Danneel. We can’t fix those problems like when he would scrape his knees. We knew he was in a vulnerable position and things between the two of you seemed so fast for how in pain he was. We thought of the worst of you before knowing you and that wasn’t right of us. We were trying to protect him. But like you said, we all try to do that. So if you’ll let us, give us a second chance.”

“For him, I will give you both a second chance,” you said. “I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this but this sort of thing isn’t going to go away just like that, for him or for me.”

“Is there anything…” said his mom as you shook your head. “We are sorry for before. Truly.”

“I know. Trust is difficult for me on a normal day. You guys kinda tore through the safety nets I thought I had with you. I need to build them up again is all.”

“That was you that said that, people have safety nets,” she said. You raised and eyebrow and she sighed. “Jensen, months back, he told us his therapist told him that, put things in perspective.”

“I guess couple’s are kinda each other’s therapists,” you said. “Sometimes they just need to vent to each other too.”

“Before you said...has he ever been to one?” asked his dad.

“Last weekend was...intense. I went to one as a child and he talked to him for a little while, helped him put things in perspective,” you said.

“Intense? Did you fight?” she asked.

“He and JJ got stung by a scorpion. It was a little serious. We went out the next night and I made a comment and he took it a different way and he got upset thinking I thought of myself as being less in his eyes than Dee was. I know it’s not true, it’s just different. He’s been having a really great week aside from today.”

You took a sip of the hot chocolate and went back for more, drinking half the mug down. 

“We screwed up,” said his dad with a sigh, sitting back against the couch. 

“Yeah but he’ll forgive you,” you said. “This is really good Mrs. Ackles.”

“Thank you sweetie and call me Donna. I made it for Jensen. He’s always liked it when he was living here and having a bad day.”

“Why do you think he’ll forgive us?” asked his dad as Donna got up.

“Because he’s Jensen. He’s not an angry man. Angry in moments but he doesn’t hold onto anger. I wouldn’t expect anything less from him. So I know he’ll forgive you. When I’m not sure of but it won’t be forever.”

“Have you two ever fought badly?” he asked.

“We’ve had a few fights. Mostly small and when we’re both tired or hungry. We had a big one a few weeks ago when he got home but we talked about why it happened and how to make sure it doesn’t again,” you said. Donna carried over a kettle and poured more hot chocolate in your mug. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Don't ask about fights Alan. It’s not our business. We should let them tell us what they want,” she said as she walked back to the kitchen.

“They probably should have had a big fight at least once to know if they can work through those things and it sounds like they have,” he said when he turned to you. “I know you’re probably love struck but marriage? That’s a lifetime of putting in the work.”

“Alan if I didn’t care about putting in the work I wouldn’t be down here right now. I know I don’t know everything I’m signing up for and no one really does but I know him and the kids and that’s worth the parts I have to work at.”

“You sound older than you look.”

“Age doesn’t always equal life experience,” you said.

“I suppose not,” he said. He stood and took a deep breath. “I do apologize for thinking the worst of you and not giving you a fair chance upfront.”

“Thank you,” you said. “I’m going to bring this up and check on him.”

“Can I ask one last thing?” asked his dad. You nodded and he looked over to Donna who gave him a short nod. “Josh said you really love him.”

“I do.”

“Do you think he loves you the same way?”

“I know he does,” you said.

“How are you so sure?”

“How are you so sure your wife loves you?” you said. “Goodnight Alan.”

“Goodnight,” he said, his mom catching up with you in the foyer where the stairs were. You gave her a tired smile and she nodded.

“If I told you something, would you keep it a secret from Jensen?” she asked.

“No,” you said with a smile. 

“I had to try,” she said. “We’re not like this by nature. Something happened he doesn’t know about when he was recovering that put us off to you. A woman. A young woman at his physical therapy.”

“What happened?” you asked quietly. She took a seat on a step and you sat beside her. “If someone tried to take advantage of him, you should have told me and him. He thinks you guys have gone nuts, no offense.”

“You’ll find with time you’d rather have your child safe and upset at you than the other way around,” she said. 

“What happened?”

“We moved down to the house for a few months to help Jensen. He went to physical therapy. A very good place. A family friend works there and got him in and he regained a lot of strength in his leg quickly because of it. There were nurses that often helped and he worked with a few regularly and they develop a relationship and all that. It’s good for morale and healing we were told. One of these girls was about your age and our family friend overheard her gossiping to a friend on the phone during a lunch break.”

“Gossiping about…” you said. “Jensen?”

“They saw an opportunity to manipulate him. He is smart, smarter than the both of us together, but he was going through the motions that first month. She made him smile a bit. She flirted with him. Our friend told us what she’d said and we realized, he could be hurt again. Taken advantage of for what he has, what he can offer. His sudden shift in mood this year, introducing you as a fiance, made us think we’d failed to protect him this time.”

“Why not tell him that?” you asked.

“And tell him he was being manipulated back then? He’s so adamant that it can’t happen to him but we know different.”

“I think you should tell him, Donna. It makes your reaction today seem not so…” you said, her head shaking.

“Ma,” you both heard. You looked over your shoulders, Jensen sat against the wall at the top of the landing. “Mom. Jerry told me why I got a new nurse when it happened. She was nice, or was pretending to be, I don’t know. But I didn’t like her. I never got manipulated and I was never going to.”

“How long-” you said, Jensen rubbing the back of his neck. “You heard everything.”

“Yup,” he said, popping his p, his dad coming over to the bottom of the stairs and staring up. “I don’t want to talk to either of you right now. Y/N, I’d like to go to bed, please.”

“Accept their apology Jensen. You can hash out the rest of this in the morning but accept that they know they were in the wrong,” you said. 

“Why should I?” he asked, cocking his head.

“We both got hurt out of their love for you. They are not monsters and I know the difference,” you said. “You know too.”

“Will you two ever look at me the same again,” said Jensen, staring at the landing. 

“Honey it was a fight. It’ll be alright,” said his mom, his head shaking.

“Ever since I woke up in the hospital, you two look at me like I’m a kid. Like I’m weak and defenseless. But I’m not. I’m stronger than I’ve ever been and this whole day could have been avoided if you treated me like your adult son, not the kid who fell off his bike and cries over a cut. I needed you two to take over, I did, I honestly did after the accident. I couldn’t take care of myself let alone the kids. But you haven’t stopped thinking I can take care of me again. I can. I do. I know I’m your kid but let me be an adult again. Trust me. Please.”

“Come here,” you said, holding out your hand. He slid down the steps and you stood up and aside, letting him get a hug from his mom and then dad. 

“We’re sorry,” said his dad.

“I know,” said Jensen quietly. “Never do something like that again. Ever.”

“We won’t,” he said. You leaned against the wall and sipped on the hot chocolate, Jensen’s nose twitching.

“That’s my cocoa,” he said, turning his head up at you.

“I just Jerry Springer’ed ya’ll. I get the cocoa. Get your own,” you said. He smiled and you gave it right back, his parents pulling off and bringing him to his feet. 

“Come here,” said his dad as his mom dragged him off towards the kitchen with the promise of hot chocolate. You stepped down until you were about his height and took a drink, licking your lips when you finished. “How do you just let that go? You were so angry before.”

“I’ve been to therapy. I have good diffusing skills,” you said. 

“Is that a joke?”

“Not really,” you said with a smile. “You made a mistake because you love him. I’m gonna make mistakes because I love him. So when I screw up, now you owe me one, deal?”

“I know it’s getting late but would you be willing to stay up a while longer, maybe find out that favorite color?” he asked. You smiled and nodded, stepping down.

“Depends on the day,” said Jensen, stepping out with a mug of his own.

“He’s right,” you said. “You okay to stay up a bit?”

He nodded and walked back to the family room, taking your hand. 

“Better?” you whispered to him.

“Yeah. Not all the way but definitely better honey.”

It was warm when you woke up the next morning. You peeled open an eye and caught Jensen laying awake, staring at his ceiling. You kicked off the blankets and he reached an arm out, pulling you to lay on his chest.

“It’s hot in here,” you mumbled, eyes shutting again.

“There’s a box covering the vent,” he said, dancing his fingers lazily over your bare arm. “It’s almost noon.”

“Seriously?” you said into his chest, nuzzling against his soft skin.

“Yeah. Sounds like they’re out back with the kids,” he said. You nodded and felt him move his fingers all over you, soft and light, absentmindedly tracing patterns every so often.

“Still upset?” you asked, his head nodding. “They’re human. They fuck up.”

“Are you angry?”

“I was. Not anymore. I kinda like ‘em actually.”

“Why would you give them a second chance?” he asked. 

“When I got adopted I didn’t like, instantly love my mom. I was scared of her at first. I don’t know, I get that you can not like someone at first and then love them unconditionally, you know? It’s weird but your opinions can change once you get to know someone.”

“I don’t do a very good job of protecting you from things,” he said, tilting his head, moving a few hairs behind your ear. You looked up at him, his fingers playing in your hair behind you. 

“Honey you went off on your parents last night. I bet you’ve never done that to them. You were trying to protect me and you did. No one has ever protected me the way you do,” you said. “Today is a new day and I’d like to get to know my new family some more.”

“Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll follow your lead.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 13 here!

[bluedjaywrites]

𝙱𝚊𝚔𝚞𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚍 𝚡 𝙵𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛: 𝚄𝚂𝙰

♪♫.ılılıll|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|̲̅̅=̲̅̅|̲̅̅●̲̅��|llılılı.♫♪

"I-um do-does this coupon apply to this ice cream?" Kaminari hesitantly asked the ice cream stand owner in his broken English and messed up grammar as he held a coupon in his hands.

"Yeah, it applies to this specific business branch. So, do you wanna use it or are you saving it for another stand?" the guy running the stand asked in a heavy American accent.

"Um..." Kaminari looked to the rest of the Bakusquad who were motioning for him to continue. "Uh-Can we-I get um six ice creams?"

Kaminari held out his coupon for the stand owner to take.

"What flavors ya want?"

"Excuse me?"

"What kind of flavors do you want?" The stand owner repeated.

"Um, uh, can-could we-I please get um, one strawberry, one vanilla, one cherry, one lemon, one cookie dough, and one (favorite ice cream flavor)." Kaminari gave the Bakusuqad a look that said, 'Why am I the one that has to buy the ice cream??'

Bakugou grinned at Kaminari's struggle as he walked back to the squad with the ice cream in a special disposable tray and offered it to each of the group members.

"Are you okay, Denki?" Y/n picked up her (favorite ice cream) and asked Kaminari, amused.

"You guys left me to fend for myself," Kaminari said shakily with a pale face, as he handed Kirishima and Mina their cherry and strawberry ice cream respectively.

"What was so scary about that?" Sero asked, biting his ice cream. (I feel like he'd do that-)

"This is the USA, where you have to speak English. I have a 60 in English," Kaminari sulked as he threw the tray away and ate his lemon ice cream, as the squad began walking aimlessly.

"Keep crying like that and I'll give you something to cry about," Bakugou said threateningly as he ate his vanilla ice cream.

"Besides, count your blessings, we're lucky that we're even allowed to go on an international trip on summer break," Mina said.

"Yeah! It's awesome!" Kirishima cheered.

"So, what should we do after this?" Y/n asked as everyone finished their ice cream.

"Well, we're in Hollywood, so sightseeing shouldn't be a problem!" Mina said, excited.

"Hmm... That's weird..." Y/n muttered as she looked through her wallet.

"What is it, Y/n?" Kirishima asked.

"I used two fifths of my money for the flight to Hollywood, saved two fifths for the flight back, and saved one fifth for shopping and hotel stuff. But I have all of my money here. If I didn't pay for my flight, then how...?" Y/n trailed off, confused.

"Huh?! Same here!" Mina held out her purse.

"I got 10 bucks," Kaminari held up a bill.

"Same here bro," Sero said.

"How did we land a trip to Hollywood anyways? Last I checked, Kaminari and I were broke," Sero asked thoughtfully.

"It was because of Bakubro!" Kirishima said enthusiastically, wrapping an arm around the said boy, who was visibly panicking.

"What the fuck? No! Why the hell would I help any of you extras?! I'd never waste my money on you-" Bakugou cut himself off as Y/n started murmuring.

"Hmm... Charges... $1,404 per passenger... Eijiro Kirishima... Mina Ashido... F/n L/n... Hanta Sero and Denki Kaminari... Flight from Tokyo to Hollywood..." Y/n murmured as she read a piece of paper she had pick pocketed from Bakugou.

"What the- Give me that!" Bakugou aggressively snatched the paper from Y/n's hands as she snickered.

"'I'd never waste my money on you' my ass," Y/n made quotation marks with her fingers as she laughed.

"Aww..." Kaminari put a hand to his heart fondly. "Thank you Bakugou..."

"Yeah! It's thanks to you that we're able to visit Hollywood! I can't believe we didn't know you paid for us!" Sero said.

"Thanks, Bakugou! We never would've guessed you'd do something like this for us!" Mina said, hugging Bakugou as he tried to pry her arms off.

"Guess you're not as much as an asshole as I thought. You've gotta be rich to spend that much money on us, though," Y/n said, smiling.

"How did you find out, Kirishima?" Kaminari asked.

"No-no-don't tell them-" Bakugou started saying to Kirishima, but he got cut off.

"He told me!" Kirishima grinned.

"Hmm... Does Bakugou is gay?" Y/n voiced Mina, Sero, and Kaminari's thoughts. (You know the reference I'm making-🤡)

"That ain't even good grammar what the fuck-"

"'Tis a meme, you uncultured swine."

~ A few hours later ~

"Woah! This... is amazing!" Y/n and Mina said in unison as they took pictures with their phones of the beautiful sight before them.

"I don't fucking believe this..." Bakugou sighed disapprovingly as Kirishima looked at him, confused. "I paid $8,424 fucking dollars for them to geek out over some stupid sign."

"It's not just any sign," Kaminari joined Y/n and Mina, posing for pictures.

"It's the Hollywood Sign!" Sero finished Kaminari's sentence, as he took out his camera that Kirishima bought him he bought independently with his own money.

"C'mon, Bakubro! Let's go take some pictures!" Kirishima dragged Bakugou by his arm to where the rest of their friends were taking pictures.

"Fine," Bakugou said begrudgingly.

"Say cheese!" Sero said, putting up the camera on a stand. He put it on a 30 second timer so that the squad could take a picture in front of the Hollywood Sign together.

The Bakusquad posed in front of the sign until a voice piped up.

"Wait, no, don't say 'cheese'! It makes your smile look unnatural," Mina added. "Never in any of my Insta posts did I ever pull the 'say cheese' stunt."

"Okay," Sero said, compromising. "Say Plus Ultra!"

"Plus Ultra!"

Kaminari pumped his fist and jumped up but accidentally landed on Bakugou's foot. Bakugou flinched, making Kirishima, who had his arm around Bakugou's shoulder, stumble and lose his balance. Bakugou growled and kicked the back of Kaminari's knee which caused him to fall forward, and grab Sero's arm to keep him from falling, which made them both fall anyways. Mina jumped up in surprise and Y/n caught her, and they both blinked.

The camera took a picture at that exact moment.

Ah, yes.

Absolute chaos.

What a great souvenir.

~

I did some research, and it takes a number close to $1,404 to catch a flight from Tokyo to Hollywood. So I just put that random number bc the prices kept changing-

My Kirishima pfp just existing be like:🕴

It's a matching pfp so my best friend has Bakugou lmao

If you want me to do a part two you can ask lol

I'm hungry

Some pizza would sound good right about now

♪.ılılıll|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|̲̅̅=̲̅̅|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|llılılı.♫♪

→ 𝙱𝚊𝚔𝚞𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚍 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

→ 𝙼𝚢 𝙷𝚎𝚛𝚘 𝙰𝚌𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚊 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

→ 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚜

[sparktls]

Mediator In A Tight Spot | Nero SR Translation

translation under the cut!

- This Cook’s A Good Intermediary (1) -

Nero: Alright, thanks so much.

Cain: Hm? That voice… Nero, you there?

Nero: Oh, Mister Knight. Here, high five.

Cain: Thanks. Were you talking to one of the servants?

Nero: Yep. I was having them show me the kitchen.

Cain: The kitchen?

Nero: Mhm. I’ve had them show me around before, but since we’ll be staying here for a couple of days, I wanted a more in-depth tour.

Nero: They have all the best equipment, it’s so useful.

Nero: I know we can’t have all of it, but if we could replicate bits of it at the manor’s kitchen…

Cain: Then your cooking’s gonna get even better!

Cain: If you need any plates or anything, just let me know. I know a craftsman in the City of Glory.

Nero: Haha, good to know.

Cain: But Nero, you’ve really adapted to the castle life, haven’t you.

Nero: Have I?

Cain: Yep. As for me, I feel like the servants and butlers are all watching me.

Cain: When I tapped Heath’s shoulder to say hi just now, a butler told me in a whisper:

Cain: “Please keep in mind you are in Blanchett Castle.”

Nero: Oh…

Nero: (He must have meant to tell Cain to take care with how he treats the young master, but I don’t think he got it.)

Nero: ‘Kay, how about next time you talk to Heath in Blanchett Castle, you try to act a little more courteous?

Cain: Courteous?

- This Cook’s A Good Intermediary (2) -

Nero: ‘Cause the people who work here all love Heath. They might also start to feel closer to the people that are real polite towards him.

Cain: …I get it. You might be right.

Cain: But Heath is a friend who’s real important to me. I don’t want him to have to worry about status or feel like he has to be overly considerate.

Nero: ‘Kay… Well, I guess that’s one of your good traits.

Cain: I’m glad you think so! But I’ll do my best to think up my own way to get along with the servants.

Cain: I want to be friends with the people who care about Heath.

Nero: It might be a little difficult, considering how different your temperaments are… But you’re a good, sincere guy. I’m sure you’ll be friends with ‘em in no time.

Cain: Haha, thanks! …Oh right, Arthur wanted to talk to me about something.

Cain: See you later, Nero!

Butler: Excuse me…

Nero: Oh, it’s you.

Butler: My apologies for speaking to you out of the blue - I wanted to express my thanks.

Nero: Your thanks?

Butler: Yes. I was aware that the Central wizard was not understanding the intent behind our words. But I could not come up with a way to get my message across…

Butler: Your casual way of telling him was truly helpful.

Butler: And, listening to your conversation, I now know that he does indeed have his own way of respecting and caring for the young master. Thank you.

Nero: …Well, there aren’t many people like him in the East, so I get why you were all were unsure of what to think of him. But Mister Knight’s a good guy.

Nero: I’m glad I could help out both of you.

- Card Episode: Blanchett Furniture -

Akira: Hi there, Nero. Are you going to eat now?

Nero: Oh, it’s you, Sage. I decided to test out some recipes before making myself lunch and it ended up taking more time then I thought it would.

Akira: …Oh, this looks like the dishes we saw in the Eastern Country.

Nero: I tried to copy what we were served at Blanchett Castle. I didn’t have the right ingredients, so the flavors are a little different… It has it’s own charm, though.

Akira: I think it’s amazing that you can recreate a dish using different ingredients! It looks so good…

Nero: If it tastes good, I’ll make it for everyone sometime.

Akira: Thank you! Is there anything else that stood out to you that you saw at Blanchett?

Nero: Let’s see… Well, as expected of a noble’s castle, all the decor and furniture were all high quality.

Nero: The paintings in the grand hall and the hallways were all expensive, too. I could look at them forever.

Akira: Those paintings were that expensive, huh… Nero, are you knowledgeable about paintings and the like too?

Nero: Oh no, not at all, I just happened to know about those. I’ve seen similar ones in the past, that’s all.

Nero: Anyways, even though we went there for training, they gave all us guest rooms and were so hospitable.

Nero: They really spoiled us rotten. It made me feel all strange, but I can't say I didn't like it.

- Home Screen Voice Line -

I’ve never had a proper teacher before this, so, y’know... I really don’t mind being a student with the Eastern wizards. I would really prefer to not have pop quizzes, though.

[pascalpanic]

“You can call me whenever you want… Even if you don’t have a reason to.” with Javi 😩 OR marcus moreno bc I think it fits him too

Personal Number (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

Summary: You’re lonely working as the American ambassador’s secretary. You miss the days of being down with the agents as a receptionist. At least you get to talk with Javier Peña on the phone somewhat often.

W/C: 1.5k

Warnings: language, brief mentions of sexual content. this is pretty tame.

A/N: I LOVE JAVIER. can you tell?? thank you for this idea Thea!!! I love it so much and I hope you like it too. Also, can you tell I like writing phone calls? I just think it’s so fun and a medium that isn’t covered super often.

it’s definitely not because I like not having to write about body language or action.

Javier Peña was a flirt. You knew that from the start, from the stories you’d heard from the other women around the embassy. He was cute, you admitted. Tight shirts and equally slim-fitting jeans, dark hair, lean and strong. He walked with power in his stance.

You liked him. He was a nice man, respectful. He flirted with everyone, but he never went too far. Sure, he’d slept with a solid chunk of the women who worked here, but he was supposedly a wonderful lover. His methods were unorthodox in the field, but he got what he needed. He was incredibly clever, setting up traps and getting information by any means necessary. You talked occasionally, when he’d stop by because you had a message for him at the receptionist desk. He was good for conversation. He liked the cinnamon candies you kept on your desk.

The other women talked with you more than he did. You and the other women chatted, ate lunch together. The rare female presence was much appreciated in such a testosterone-laden environment. You all got along well. Even compared stories of sleeping with certain agents, how their skills at finding the clit ranked, how snuggly they were after, how receptive they were to certain acts. It was fun.

Javier was a busy man. The phone on his desk rarely rang. If someone needed someone around the embassy, they went and talked to them in person. It was an excuse to get away from your desk, people figured. You rarely used the phone too, even as a receptionist. You’d answer calls when they came, but they were usually directed other places, with specific extensions. People here were more direct.

That was before you’d been appointed as the ambassador’s secretary. It was an honor. It meant you were good at your job. You’d taken it, bragging to the other girls over lunch. Everyone was excited for you.

The job, you found out, was dry. It consists most days of making phone calls. Stechner, Ambassador wants you. Ambassador? Stechner’s here. Yep. I’ll let him in. Hi, we’ll take three orders of arepas- sorry, yes sir? Scratch that, he wants four. And can you throw in a coffee- one second, yes sir? Got it- with four creams and two sugars.

You doodle on a notepad many days. You read newspapers or reports. You proofread memos for the ambassador before he sends them off to someone important. It’s draining and dry and you have to admit you hate it.

“Peña,” a voice answers the phone.

“Hi Javier. Are you busy?” You ask.

He smiles a little as he hears your voice, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. “When am I ever around here?” He asks, and you chuckle.

“I know the feeling.”

The two of you had talked a few times before. He was nice enough, if curt. Usually, he was busy. People only came to you when they needed something as a receptionist, and now even more so as a private secretary.

“How’s the promotion treating you?” He asks. He’d heard word as he talked with others. Noticed your spot was empty for a day or two before being replaced by another woman. He missed the little candies you kept on your desk. You always kept cinnamon disks stocked in a separate jar from the seasonal candies for him.

“It’s… good,” you nod, drawing a little fish on your notepad. “Kind of feels like a demotion sometimes. It’s boring up here. And lonely. I miss being around to talk with people.”

“We miss you,” he admits with a smile. “You still keep those cinnamon candies on your desk up there?”

You shake your head, holding the phone between your ear and your shoulder. “No. Ambassador doesn’t like them, so I switched over. I did get some new fun caramel flavored stuff though.”

“Damn,” he chuckles.

“Would it make you come up here if I had them?”

“I may have to visit the ambassador more often if you did,” he teases, and you chuckle softly. “Poor little social butterfly, cooped up on the highest floor, away from humanity.”

“I do feel like Rapunzel some days,” you sigh, still smiling. “Oh shit, I’m sorry. I was supposed to ask if you were busy for the ambassador, not for myself. He wants to see you if you have a minute.”

“Yeah, I’ve got time. Right now?”

“Right now.”

You can hear shuffling on the other end. “Let me put my signature on one more paper and I’ll be up.” He hangs up and you sigh. There was the most interaction you’ll get for the day.

-

It seems that the closer the men get to Escobar, the more the ambassador needs to see Murphy and Peña. You don’t mind. The two men are funny, and the way they interact makes you smile.

Peña talks to you more than Murphy. Steve is more likely to go outside to smoke, while Javier smokes at his desk. That means you dial him more often simply because there’s a higher probability he’s at his desk. Not because you enjoy talking with him more.

The two men had picked up on calling you Rapunzel. Your energy and excitement was draining day by day, and they compared your new position outside of the ambassador’s office, high on the top floor of the embassy, to Rapunzel’s tower.

You playfully called them Javi and Stephen in return to annoy both of them. It didn’t work on Javier. It turned out he liked that, and you could tell by the way his voice softened. So you kept that.

“Peña.”

“Guess who?” you ask dryly, tapping your pen against your notepad.

The man chuckles. “You must be having an exciting day up there. I can hear it in your voice.”

“Ha.” The word is humorless and flat. “Ambassador wants to see you two.”

Javier groans. “Kind of busy.”

“Well, I’ll tell him that,” you nod and write down on a legal pad- separate from your doodling pad- Peña busy. 11:30. “How are things going down there today?”

“Annoying. Steve is a pain in my ass- hey, shut the fuck up,” you can hear him say even as he removes the receiver away from his phone. You giggle at that, smiling as he speaks again. “Sorry. Can you guess who that was?”

“What was he saying this time?” You ask, twirling the cord to the phone around your finger.

“Nothing,” he insists, but you can hear Murphy shouting. Some message he’s trying to get to you.

“Well, alright. Call up when you’re less busy,” you ask him and hang up.

You really want to know what Murphy was going on about. You dial his desk and he picks up. “S’this Rapunzel?” A southern accent twangs.

“Of course,” you chuckle. “What were you shouting into Javi’s phone?”

“Oh, nothing. Oh, hey, wait,” he says, pulling the phone down and pressing it to his chest. You can hear the muffled voices of the two men, but not what they’re saying. He puts it back to his ear quickly after. “Anyway, it’s nothing. We’ll call you back when we’ve got a minute to come up.”

Odd, you think, before going back to your work on your desk.

-

The phone rings again an hour later. “Ambassador’s office,” you say with a gentle lilt to your voice.

“Hey, Rapunzel,” a kind but rough voice speaks through the phone. Javi.

“Hey,” you chuckle a little. “You guys ready to come up?”

“Uh, no, not yet. But I do want you to write something down for me.”

“Anything,” you nod, priming your pen above the piece of paper.

Javier rattles off ten numbers, and you diligently write them down on the paper. You repeat it back and he affirms that it’s correct. “Got it. What is it?”

“It’s my personal phone number.”

“Javi, the ambassador already has your phone number.”

“No, I know. It’s for you.”

Oh. Your heart flutters excitedly in your chest, causing you to let out a soft giggle.

“I like talking with you. Our phone calls are the highlight of my day. You can call me whenever you want… even if you don’t have a reason to. I just… like hearing your voice. I like you.”

You clutch the paper, grinning ear to ear. “Well, I like you too, Javi. I’ll be using this,” you assure him, looking down at it and beaming. “Now, you said you’re busy. Get back to work.”

“Yes ma’am. See you in a bit.”

Click. Dial tone. Your heart fills with sparks and little fireworks, sending you into a loud laugh of excitement.

The thick oak doors swing open. The ambassador looks at you with concern. “Everything alright out here?” He asks you.

You nod, biting your lip and looking down to hide your grin. “Yeah, yeah. Great, sir. Peña and Murphy aren’t ready yet. They’ll be up later.”

The man gives you a nod and closes the door behind him.

The grin returns. You trace the freshly-dried ink, the nine numbers that will connect you directly to Javier at any time you want. You pull your contact book from your purse, sitting beneath your desk, flipping to a clean page.

Javier Peña, you write.

xxx-xxx-xxxx

personal number

You go back and draw a small heart next to his name.

[aoyama-division]

🍀 Happy St. Patrick's Day to Aoyama Division!

Here is a question for the three men of JST:

Tomi, Karada, and Luis:

On this day of celebration (which gives you an excuse to get drunk), what is your go-to alcoholic beverage, why do you enjoy it, and how much do you need to consume before you get completely drunk?

"Hmph, finally. A sensible question, for once." Tomi stated, with a smirk.

"Yeah right." Luis interjected, rolling his eyes. "It's only sensible because it involves something that you enjoy."

"Well, obviously! I didn't care much for the other questions that were asked, but at least this one has a slight smudge of decorum to it."

"Right, so in that case, you'll have no problem answering first?" Luis asked, lighting a cigarette.

"Of course not!" Tomi stated, still smirking. "As a respectable member of Aoyama's high class, I drink alcohol almost every day. There's never a party or soirée that didn't have some wine or other alcoholic beverage to drink. But the wine given at those events is only made to look pretty. They aren't there to get you actually drunk.

"My go-to drink... it would depend on what I'm in the mood for. If you've seen my family's alcohol room, we have a wide range of options to choose from." Tomi smugly explained.

"He's not lying!" Karada, out of nowhere, interjected. "His family's liquor room has a wider selection than any kind you'll find in a store."

"Too true. But to answer the question, I'd have to choose whiskey; more specifically, Crown Royal. A glass of that on the rocks is very helpful in getting my thoughts in order. If more parties served that, I'd be a lot happier going to them."

"Then why go at all?" Luis asked, smoking.

"Appearances, I'm afraid." Tomi stated, shaking his head. "As for much I need to consume to become inebriated, that's not something I wish to reveal. I don't normally drink to get drunk, though it will happen on occasion."

"...Usually it takes him four-to-five glasses. Maybe less."

"Did you say something?"

"Nothing at all." Luis answered, shrugging.

"Well, guess I'm up next," Karada said, smiling. "After a hard day of training, I like to relax with a couple of ice-cold beers. I have a few in my icebox at home. My favorite brand is Sapporo. I love their stuff! A bottle of some Sapporo Supreme and some take-out, and I'm good for the rest of the evening!"

"Good choice." Luis said, nodding. "I'm not really into beer, but I'll take Sapporo if its available."

"Ugh, beer?" Tomi repeated, scoffing. "How low-class."

"Hey man, don't diss Sapporo! Those guys are awesome." Karada argued, to which Tomi simply rolled his eyes. "As for how much I need to get drunk... I'd said about six bottles are so. My alcohol tolerance is surprisingly pretty good."

"You say that now..."

"What was that dude?"

"Nothing." Luis answered, shrugging. "Suppose I'm next. I use a lot of alcohol in my cooking, believe it or not. Some of my dishes involves me cooking them with some sort of alcoholic beverage. I always be sure to tell my customers this before I serve them. That way, they can't claim that they didn't know the dish had alcohol."

"Oh yeah, wasn't there a dispute you had with a customer over alcohol being in their salsa or something?" Karada asked.

"Yes, and I'd appreciate you not reminding me," Luis answered, scowling before looking back at the screen. "But anyway, I'd have to say my favorite alcohol would have to be Tequila. I like a nice glass of either Patron or Don Julio. Patron with lemonade actually tastes good on a hot day, and Julio is good on its own, though you can mix it with club soda or something."

"I never see you drink Tequila," Karada stated, raising an eyebrow. "At least not whenever we go out."

"That's cause no one here in Japan, save Rashaad, knows the first thing about how to make a good Tequila drink," Luis answered, frowning. "Usually only two or three glasses are enough to get me wasted, but they insist on watering everything down, which ruins the flavor and effect. Thus, I'm required to find something else to drink."

"You can't make your own?"

"Usually, that's what I'm forced to do."

"If you went to more soirees, you wouldn't need Tequila to get you drunk."

"I put up with you more than enough as it is. Why would I want to be surrounded by more of you?"

"Rude!"

"Look who's talking."

Cut it out, guys!"

[licieoic]

“Pour One Out” - Digital Oil Painting

Inspired by Suptober, theme: Pour One Out. Bartender/Patron AU! This one was actually inspired by a number of themes from Suptober including “Family Business” and “Favorite,” as shown in the ficlet below the cut. (It’s PG, though Dean is having some more adult oriented thoughts, LOL.)

Please see the pinned post at the top of my Tumblr for my links if you'd like to help support me in saving for a safe place to live!

“Hey.”

Looking up, Dean saw his brother, Sam, sticking his head into the brewing room. It had to be nearly time for his shift, he already had his abundant hair pulled back.

“Your favorite’s here,” he said.

Dean straightened up so fast, he nearly dropped the pitcher of beer he’d been pouring so carefully. “Trench Coat?” At least, that was the name he used with Sam; he didn’t want his brother knowing what he called the quiet man in his head. He’d never quite had the courage to ask the man’s actual name and since Winchester Bros was cash only, he couldn’t sneak a look at a credit card either. He’d considered asking for his ID, as that was perfectly acceptable in a bar, but since he was clearly over legal drinking age it would just make Dean look like he was stupid or an ass.

“Usual spot,” Sam answered before popping back into the main area of the bar.

He got up close to the shiny brewing vat in front of him and tried to check his appearance, but the metal didn’t make for a good mirror and left him looking deformed. Damn… He hoped there was nothing to worry about, like food in his teeth or crustiness in the corners of his green eyes, and that his light brown hair was just the right amount of tousled, leaning more toward ‘I woke up like this’ and less like ‘I use a lot of product.’ Then he reached into the pocket of his apron for the breath mint he always kept there, on the chance that his favorite patron would stop by.

It was easy to remember the first time he’d ever seen him, he doubted he would ever forget. Five months after he and Sam had opened the bar, they’d had to strike a deal with the Devil (Dean’s private name for their wealthy investor, Crowley) in order to save it from going under. It had always been their dream to start up a family business and they’d each quit lucrative careers (Dean as a mechanic, Sam as a lawyer) to open Winchester Bros. It had taken every penny of their life savings to do it, they just couldn’t give up so soon.

Pride still smarting with the knowledge that they’d be under Crowley’s thumb for the foreseeable future, Dean hadn’t exactly been the friendliest bartender that night. After being short with a small bachelorette party, Sam told him to concentrate on the solo patrons at the bar who usually weren’t the chatty types and leave the groups to him. Dean hadn’t argued, they needed as much patronage as possible, he could ill afford to turn what could be repeat customers into people who never came back just because he was in a mood.

Down at the far end of the bar, he saw a man with dark, messy hair hunched over the bar. He wore a slightly dirty trench coat over a deep navy suit and had a five o’clock shadow darkening his jawline. All in all, a fairly standard-looking barfly, if he were judging a book by its cover. Dean leaned both hands on the bar and tried not to sound too brusque as he asked, “What can I get you?”

Then the man looked up… and Dean forgot everything. He was lost in the bluest eyes ever to blue, bluer than the tie hanging crooked from the man’s neck. Dean’s mouth might have gone slack, he wasn’t sure. They were like angel’s eyes, almost too pretty to be real.

“I don’t know,” said the man, immediately dubbed Angel Eyes. He seemed kind of down, but that wasn’t unusual for a lone bar patron. “Do you have a menu?”

“W-we do,” said Dean, pulling over the list printed on laminated cardstock once he remembered how to speak. The line at the top read ‘Winchester Brews,’ which he’d thought damn clever at the time, now he worried it was corny. “Ahem… Everything on offer is brewed in-house, plus I can make you just about anything you like.”

“Anything, huh?” He looked at the menu, but didn’t really seem to be reading it. “I don’t know,” he said again, “surprise me?”

Something was really bothering this man, Dean could tell, his bartender instincts were jangling like crazy. His bi-dar, however, was all over the place. He never had a problem flirting with the ladies who came in, but it was always hard to tell if he was clear to make a pass at a man. That kind of thing could get dangerous, depending on who it was and what kind of attitude they had.

“Surprise you,” Dean repeated, reaching below the bar for a tumbler which he filled with a few ice cubes. “Well, you look like a man of… discerning tastes.” He followed this with a wink to test the waters. To his delight, Angel Eyes smiled. And Dean’s heartbeat doubled. He turned around and took a surreptitious breath in an attempt to calm it down, but it didn’t work.

From the back shelf, he retrieved a bottle of whiskey with a simple handwritten label on the front that read ‘Winchester Special #5’ and turned back to face him. As he poured, Dean said, “This here is our monthly special.”

“What makes it special?”

“It changes every month,” said Dean. “Afterward, we add it to the list of brews. And if you can guess the flavor, the inspiration behind it… it’s on me.”

“Has anyone gotten it right yet?” It was the nineteenth, he’d assumed correctly that some people had already tried Dean’s challenge.

He shook his head. “Not quite.” Gesturing at the tumbler, he quirked a brow and asked, “Care to try?”

Angel Eyes picked up the glass and took a sip. He tilted his head, appearing thoughtful.

“So?” asked Dean when he didn’t get an immediate answer. “What’s it taste like to you?”

“Hmm. Molecules.”

Dean laughed outright and Angel Eyes grinned. “Well, you’re not wrong!” he exclaimed. “Molecules, heh, can’t say I’ve ever heard that one before, but is that your final answer?”

Swirling the ice in the glass, Angel Eyes took a longer pull, maintaining eye contact with Dean as he rolled the whiskey slowly over his tongue. Dean’s mouth went dry as he watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down when he swallowed. Unconsciously, he licked his lips and those bluer than blue eyes followed the movement.

Angel Eyes clicked his tongue. “Blueberry…” he said, slowly. “But there’s something else… It’s sweet and… creamy?”

“No hints,” said Dean, but mentally he was cheering the man on, wanting him to make the right guess, and he was so, so close.

He took one last sip from the glass, finishing it off. “It’s good. I like it. It reminds me of a blueberry sour cream pie. Final answer.”

Dean grinned broadly. “We have a winner!”

He returned the smile with one of his own and it seemed like both of them had forgotten their problems prior to their meeting each other. “Really?”

Nodding, Dean poured him another. “On me. Since you’re the first correct guess.”

He picked up the tumbler and saluted Dean with it. “Cheers.”

Dean nodded, a little disappointed that he didn’t have an excuse to keep their conversation going, and turned to go back to work.

“Oh, and—”

Heart in his throat, he looked back. Angel Eyes hesitated.

“Thank you,” he said, finally. “This… really helped.”

“Yeah?”

He made a vague gesture. “I don’t want to get into it, I know bartenders aren’t therapists,” he said. “Just some family issues.”

Dean’s heart sank. He had a family. Of course he did. “Well, you’re not the first guy to come here to escape his wife for a while,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Oh, I’m not married,” Angel Eyes said.

“Girlfriend?” came out of Dean’s mouth before he could stop himself.

He shook his head. “One of my brothers is constantly going through a rebellious phase. Our father isn’t happy about it.”

“Ohhhh, well, I can definitely understand annoying brothers,” said Dean, aiming his thumb at Sam who was down at the opposite end of the bar, and forcing himself to swallow down any follow-up questions. He’d already said he didn’t want to talk about it, Dean wanted to respect that. “You should bring your family around,” he said, smiling. “It’s easier to open up after a few, you know?”

Angel Eyes chuckled. “I’m not sure if that would be a good thing or a bad thing. Besides…” He thumbed the rim of his glass before glancing back up, hitting him with that blue gaze all over again. “I don’t know if I want them coming around here. Maybe I want to keep you all to myself.”

Any thoughts of pushing for more patrons to offset his and Sam’s massive debt had flown away. Dean could only nod like an idiot, he knew what the man meant, of course, but the unspoken implications in the statement were pinging around in his head like a super ball. He might have squeaked out an ‘okay’ or a ‘yeah’ as he headed back to work, he didn’t remember. He did remember almost tripping over his own feet and not looking back, knowing his face would be bright red. He pretended to not remember hearing another chuckle.

Since then, Angel Eyes came in at least once a week, always sat at the end of the bar, and always ordered the monthly special, even though he paid for each subsequent drink following his correct guess. He was never wrong about the flavor either, which amazed Dean, he even got the lemon meringue right. He’d been so sure that no one would get it – he’d heard lemon-vanilla, toasted marshmallow, all kinds of other things because who guesses ‘meringue’ for a whiskey anyway? Apparently, a man with gorgeous blue eyes in a slightly dirty trench coat. Three months in, he was the only person who’d figured out that Dean based all the specials on his favorite pies and it only made his guesses come that much quicker.

As he headed out to the front, he dropped off the pitcher of beer and grabbed #15 from the shelf. He almost couldn’t believe it had been ten months since his favorite patron had first come in. Tonight was the night, he resolved, he would ask for Angel Eyes’ actual name. Maybe in another ten months, he’d work up the courage to ask for his number. Dean internally rolled his eyes at himself. He was truly pathetic.

Angel Eyes perked up at the end of the bar the moment Dean emerged from the back, yellow light from a nearby neon sign on the wall reflecting off his dark hair, almost like a halo. They smiled at each other and Dean’s heart was immediately doing flips, seeing how obviously happy he was to see him. Could be the Crush Goggles, but still…

“Fancy seeing you here,” said Dean, filling the glass with ice and setting it down on the bar. “I was wondering when you’d be in to try the latest special.”

“I’m just hoping it isn’t Pumpkin Spice,” said Angel Eyes. Being that it was October, it was a fair comment. You couldn’t go ten feet without encountering something bearing that smell and/or flavor.

“I do like pumpkin pie,” said Dean, pouring the whiskey. “But I think it’s more of a November flavor.”

Dark brows lifted. “A hint? This is new. What did I do to deserve that?”

Dean laughed. “Maybe I’m in a good mood, that’s all.”

“Me too. It’s a good night.”

“Hopefully, about to be better,” said Dean, nodding at the glass.

“I don’t need to drink to have a good time,” he said, but picked up the tumbler all the same to have a sip.

“Your continued presence at my bar says otherwise,” said Dean.

Angel Eyes swallowed. “There are other reasons a person might come to a bar.”

“Such as?”

“Good ambience.” He took a longer sip and let his eyes wander over Dean before traveling back up as he swallowed. “I like the company.”

Dean hoped he wasn’t blushing but he couldn’t hold back a goofy smile. “You do get to meet all kinds of people in a place like this,” he said.

“Yes, though I was referring to one specific person.”

“Yeah?”

He finished the whiskey and set down the glass, meeting Dean’s eyes head-on. “Yes.”

Mouth dry, Dean cleared his throat. “So, uh…” He gestured at the tumbler. “Any guesses?”

“Maybe.” He trailed one finger around the rim of the glass. “If I pay for the drink, can I have something else as my prize? If I get it right, of course.”

“Uh.” He swallowed hard. “S-s-sure.” He could hardly manage the one word; he couldn’t even summon the brain power to ask what it was he wanted.

Smacking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, Angel Eyes considered his answer. “This is a good one,” he said. “Definitely not pumpkin, but it has sweetness… and a note of tart as well.”

“Are you a sommelier?” Dean asked suddenly. “That would sure as hell explain a lot.”

He laughed, the bright sound so incongruous with his gravelly voice, it had quickly become one of Dean’s favorite things about him. So much so, that he would go out of his way to come up with a corny joke or allow himself to be a little clumsy, just for the chance to hear that laugh.

“No,” he said, still smiling. “Disappointed?”

“No. I just can’t figure out how you’re never wrong.”

“I haven’t made my guess yet,” he pointed out.

“And?”

Deliberately, he reached into his glass and retrieved a small ice cube. Before Dean knew what was happening, Angel Eyes was popping it into his mouth and sucking on it while he thought about what answer to give.

Guh. He has to be doing this on purpose! Dean thought. How does he make everything he does so sexy?

Still keeping eye contact with Dean, he bit down hard. Crunch! If he kept this up, Dean would need to run to the bathroom and readjust his jeans. To try and diffuse some of the tension in the air, Dean attempted to make a joke like he usually would.

“You, uh, you know what they say about people who chew their ice, don’t you?” he asked, almost tripping on his own tongue.

“No,” he said, to Dean’s surprise. “What do they say?”

Well, this backfired spectacularly, thought Dean. “They, uh… that they’re, well, you know…” Those clear blue eyes wouldn’t give him an inch, Angel Eyes sat patiently waiting to hear the punchline of Dean’s naughty joke like they were talking about the weather. He had no choice but to quietly stutter, “That they’re… s-s-sexually frustrated.”

“Oh.”

Really? That’s all you have to say, ‘oh’? thought Dean, incredulously. While he watched, Angel Eyes fished out another ice cube and crunched down on it viciously, all while holding Dean’s gaze, as if to punctuate his statement. Heat creeping up into his cheeks, Dean took a steadying breath. Curse blushing, he thought. Curse the noun, curse the verb, curse the act!

“H-have I finally stumped you?” Dean asked when his tongue decided to work again.

“Caramel apple rhubarb,” he said, definitively. “Final answer.”

“Damn!” exclaimed Dean, pounding one fist on the bar. “You did it again!”

All he did was smile in response, the handsome bastard. As he reached into his coat pocket, he casually remarked, “You know, your freckles disappear when you blush.”

He blinked. “They do?”

“Then I get to notice them all over again when they come back.” Retrieving his wallet, he pulled out a ten-dollar bill and placed it on the bar between them. “It’s what I’ve been calling you in my head all this time. Freckles.”

“Well, that’s kind of rude, how would you like it if my brother and I were calling you Trench Coat behind your back?”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

“Okay, good, because that’s totally what we’ve been doing.”

They snickered together.

“Out of curiosity,” said Dean, “what were you calling Sammy?”

“Manbun.”

Dean snorted. “I’m absolutely going to call him that.”

“So, his name is Sam? You don’t wear nametags, so I’ve only ever known your last name.”

“Nametags are lame.”

“They are. What’s your name, then?”

“Is this what you wanted instead of a free drink?”

“No, this is something I should have asked ten months ago.”

Fair point. Dean held out his hand. “Dean,” he said.

His fingers were cold from the ice but his palm was warm and smooth. “Castiel.”

“Wow.” It wasn’t a name he’d ever heard before; surprise mixed with his pleasure over finally learning the name of his long-held crush. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

“What were you expecting?”

“Not sure. Probably something anti-climactic, like Steve.” He picked up the ten with his other hand. “I’ll get you some change.”

Castiel tightened his grip when Dean would have let go. “Keep it,” he said. “Consider it a tip.”

“Okay,” Dean said, slowly, tucking the bill into his apron pocket.

“Have you eaten dinner yet?” asked Castiel.

“No.”

He grinned and it put all of the smiles Dean had received before to shame. It held a hint of mischievousness as he said, “That’s what I want.”

“You-you want—what? D-dinner? W-with me?” Dean couldn’t quite believe his ears. He’d barely been able to hope for a first-name basis tonight, he couldn’t possibly be so lucky as to score a date. But then, considering they’d been dancing around each other for ten months, maybe Castiel thought if he didn’t make the first move, it would never happen.

Bringing up his other hand, Castiel sandwiched Dean’s between the two as he said, very deliberately, “I don’t believe I’ve guessed wrong.”

Dean could be pretty dense sometimes, but he knew unequivocally that Castiel wasn’t talking about the whiskey. “I’m off in half an hour,” he said, smiling like an idiot.

“I’ll be waiting… Freckles.”

Okay… so maybe blushing wasn’t such a bad thing.

[thosewickedlovelies]

AND THEY WERE WALLMATES: Banana Bread (part 1)

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: probably T for mature themes (implications of sexy times and violence). It will go up later ;)

Summary: You share an apartment wall with Javier Peña, but that doesn’t make it any easier to get to know him. You didn’t think your baking would be the catalyst (read: Javi is jealous that Connie gets all the extras).

Tags: Mention of blood; super vague description of wound care; alcohol; TW for Javi: you have FEELINGS bby

Word count: 2,791

A/N: I guess technically this starts at the beginning of season 1, but I don’t plan on referencing the events of the show, so imagine they’re working on things less intense than trying to catch Escobar. I found Javier really tricky to write for, so I hope this reads okay! I’m so excited about the future chapters I have outlined for this lol pls get hype.

Masterlist

---

You had only been living in your new place for about a month when you got new neighbors. You were glad for the company- the four-apartment building was fairly new, and didn’t feel very lived-in. You did your best to add some personal flair to your apartment, but it still had the effect of reminding you of your own newness to this place, your lack of any deep personal connections.

Your other neighbor didn’t exactly help with that. Javier Peña had lived here for awhile before you moved in, but that was all you knew about him; you didn’t speak much beyond your neighborly greetings and his insinuating smiles. He never hides his lingering glances, but nor does he make any other moves- you sense he’s a safe type, all bark and no bite (without consent). So you always amusedly but politely ignore the invitation implicit in your exchanges. They don’t seem to have a lot of depth anyway, as if he’s just trying for the sake of trying. Granted, he probably never has to do much more than that- you’re very aware of how attractive your neighbor is on the surface. You just prefer to feel a connection slightly deeper than surface level before going home with someone.

You learn more about him from Connie, who tells you that he works at the embassy with her husband, Steve. In “janitorial services.” You raise a bemused eyebrow at that, but respect your neighbors’ privacy and don’t ask further questions. You help Connie get a job at a hospital a few blocks away from the one you’re a nurse at and promise to help her practice Spanish.

The building feels more lively now, and you’re happy to have a confidant upstairs, especially one who’s more privy to the life of your enigmatic hall-mate. You don’t know if it’s the neighborly care you feel for your new friend or if there’s some other unconscious change, but you begin to keep an ear out for Javier. You do share an apartment wall, although you don’t glean much through it. Some standard kitchen rummaging, television noise, the occasional bedroom guest (whose enterprises you try not to listen to, but damn if the man doesn’t have a perfect voice for after-dark activities). The most noticeable thing about him is the odd hours he keeps: sometimes in tandem with Steve’s schedule and sometimes not, you can never predict when he’ll be in or out.

--

Little do you know, you’re not the only one paying attention. Javier has spent many an evening alone with only whiskey and the television for company, but now there are other things to stimulate his senses. The smell of your baking filtering through the wall, even lingering in the hallway the next morning. The sound of you singing to the radio while clattering about the kitchen. Sometimes he turns the tv down to listen and imagines there being no wall between your two homes. What would his life be like with someone to infuse that kind of sweetness and light into it?

He doesn’t mean you specifically, necessarily. If, once or twice, your face jumps to mind while he’s taking care of himself in bed, he thinks nothing of it. You’re his beautiful neighbor- it’s a fantasy begging to be played out.

But damn if he hasn’t been tempted to make it a reality. He gets to taste your baking sometimes when you leave extras with Connie, and one day she catches his brow creased in a frown, distracted halfway through a slice of walnut banana bread.

“Javi,” Connie repeats, trying to get his attention.

“Yeah.” Javier snaps out of it, looking up.

“You’ve been staring at that piece of banana bread for a full two minutes. Is it gonna do a trick?”

He decides to lean into it, see what Connie’s reaction might be. “Only if the trick is getting me out of my pants. I don’t know a man alive who could resist the shit she makes.” He scoops another forkful into his mouth to prove his point, letting the rich, nutty flavor remind him of other places. Homes. Real homes, made of people, not the solitary kind he lives in now.

She rolls her eyes at his crudeness, but agrees. “You’re right about that. I don’t know where she gets the energy to do this after hospital shifts.”

Javier hides his next thought with another forkful of bread and a noncommittal noise. Wonder if she’d have as much energy for it if she had a man to tire her out. It was automatic, a question he couldn’t help debating with himself. Surely no one who spent that much time in the kitchen could have energy to spare on…other pursuits.

Connie is regarding him shrewdly. He avoids her gaze, focusing on finishing his plate in large mouthfuls to avoid the questions he can feel brewing. But he’s not quick enough. “Has she always brought you extras too?” she asks. Too casually, idling with her fork.

“No,” Javier says dismissively, and it’s not quite a scoff. “She wasn’t here long before you showed up. We’re not as close as you two.” Understatement. Did he sound sour about the fact?

Before Connie can ask any more questions he rises from his seat. “Well, don’t let me keep you. Tell Steve what I said.” With a nod of farewell, he turns and strides out the door.

--

One night you’re awoken with a start from where you’d fallen asleep on the couch. Heart pounding, you sit up, listening intently. You’d never felt unsafe here, but you’re aware of the potential dangers. What had woken you?

You hear a swear from the hall, and your muscles relax as you recognize Javier’s low voice. There’s a beat of silence, then a scraping, clinking sound. He must have dropped his keys. But then he grunts, and concern sweeps over you. You’re a nurse- you recognize the sound of a man stifling his pain.

There are long delays before each new noise that indicates an action. The doorknob twists as he grunts again, but it’s a moment before the key turns in the lock. It seems to take an age for him to get through the door; his motions sound clumsy before he closes it. Safe in the privacy of his home, so he thinks, he lets out a longer sigh, the pain and exhaustion now obvious in the sound. But you can hear his fumbling through the wall, and you worry your lip between your teeth. It is your place to go see if he’s alright?

Finally you decide that it is. You’re his neighbor and a healthcare professional, and it is your professional opinion that he sounded in-pain enough to warrant a check-up. Plus, you heard him that way before he got inside, you reason. So it’s not as if you were just being snoopy through the wall.

Just in case, though, you grab some muffins you made earlier as a backup excuse (once again mentally thanking whoever left the cookbook in your apartment). 11:30 isn’t too late for a friendly drop-by, right?

You knock softly on his door. “Javier? It’s me.” Nervous energy taps in your fingers. You’re never even been on his side of the hallway before.

There’s a shuffling sound, and the door unlatches. A narrow gap opens, into which Javier plants himself, and you immediately zero in on where he keeps one leg wedged behind the door. He leans into the elbow propped against the doorjamb above his head, while his other hand already holds a glass of what you can smell is whiskey. He looks like he would rather be anywhere but here at this moment. “Neighbor,” he greets dryly, a neutral expression on his face.

“Uhh.” You’ve never been this close to him before, and his appearance catches you off-guard. His usually combed hair is messy, waves tangling over his forehead, and he’s sweaty, the open collar of his shirt damp and the exposed skin gleaming with moisture.

Javier raises an eyebrow expectantly, taking a sip of his drink. His glances down at the plate in your hands, and it prompts you to speak.

“Hi, Javier. Uh, sorry, I know it’s late, but I thought I’d bring you some of these-“ you lift the dish “-before they come with me to work tomorrow. They’re banana bread muffins.” Your voice falters with your confidence. Your eyes can’t help but flicker over his face and chest, taking in the smear of dust on his jaw, the redness of the knuckles wrapped around his glass. Mostly you’re trying not to look at the leg he’s definitely hiding, which you can tell he’s keeping his weight off of.

--

Javier stares at you, not buying it for a second. His lips purse for lack of a cigarette to wrap around. He shifts the weight he has on his arm- damn, his leg hurts- and wonders what could have possibly prompted you to start bringing him baked goods now of all moments. “Why aren’t you bring those to Connie’s?” Like usual.

“Um, well-“ He sees your gaze finally drop to the leg he’s kept out of view, and too late remembers who got Connie the hospital job.

“I heard you drop your keys, and it sounded like you were in pain,” you confess. “I’m a nurse, Javier. I can help if you need it.” Though apologetic, your tone is firm, face sincere as you offer him aid. Him, your grumpy neighbor who does nothing but leer at you.

Well, he isn’t that proud. Javier sighs, and opens the door further. Your eyes widen as you see the long slice in his pant leg, blood still damp around the wound beneath. “Shit, Javier, what happened? It doesn’t matter, shit, sit down.” You surge forward without waiting for permission, tucking yourself under the arm of his uninjured side and steering him toward a dining room chair. Where he’d been about to sit down down and tend to the cut himself. He supposes your apartments mirror each other, but your familiar reaction to the layout still surprises him.

“Whoa, hey, watch the whiskey,” he exclaims, flailing out the arm holding the glass, taken aback by your sudden manhandling. With one hand still occupied by the muffins, you direct him solely with an around his waist and your shoulder propped under his armpit. He couldn’t have resisted if he tried. If it weren’t for the fiery pain in his leg, your hold would have him feeling a very different kind of heat.

You give him a look that says you won’t be fooled by his blustering as you deposit him onto the chair and the plate on the table. “May I?” you ask, kneeling, hands hovering above his wound.

“Oh, now you’re asking permission?” He scoffs in disbelief but waves a hand in consent, leaning back in the seat.

You scoff right back at him. “Look, I see blood, I make the macho men sit, okay? Why didn’t you go to a hospital with this?”

Javier studies you as you carefully lift the denim to peer at the cut on his thigh. He takes a sip of whiskey to buy time (as well as dull the stinging pain). You’ve put on a robe over what looks like pajamas, but you seem too alert to have just dragged yourself from bed. And yet...was that a pillow mark on your cheek? Just there, arcing from your temple to your jaw…

“Javier?" you're looking up at him, a touch of confusion on your face.

“Did I wake you up?” he hears himself asking.

Her gaze drops again. “No,” you answer. “Well, yes, but I fell asleep on the couch, so it was a good thing.”

Ah, that explained the pillow mark.

Finally you stand. Your hands rest on your hips, heedless of your fingertips smudged red with his blood. “It doesn’t actually look too bad. I have enough supplies here to fix you up. You stay here, take off your pants if you can manage it by yourself, and I’ll be right back.” And with that you whisk away, robe swishing through his front door.

Javier remains where he is, a bit stunned by this turn of events, your sudden insertion into his life. He shakes his head. Maybe whiskey and blood loss shouldn’t go together. He tosses back the rest of his glass anyway in order to wrangle off his jeans.

By the time you return, he feels more composed, if rather uncomfortably vulnerable, sitting in just his boxers with a bloody slice across his thigh. He watches silently as you arrange various medical supplies on the table and pull up a chair across from him. You perch on the edge of it and look at him before doing anything else. “Are you gonna tell me how you got this?”

He’s not about to tell you it was a fluke accident during one of Carillo's interrogations. Somehow, while his back was turned, the guy got free and tried to escape, swinging a knife wildly as he hurled past Javier. The cut was long, ugly, but shallow. He’d live. He couldn’t say the same for the man who delivered it.

--

Javier considers his answer. “Can’t,” he says. “It’s better if you don’t know.” His gaze skitters away as he speaks.

He works for the government with a poker face like that? “Janitorial work, huh?” you say dryly. Sighing, you reach for the antiseptic. “At least tell me what made it. So I can treat it properly.” You look at him steadily.

Javier looks back for a long moment. “A knife,” he says at last.

You nod, and rip open a packet of gauze. He sucks air through his teeth as the antiseptic sears the wound clean, but otherwise doesn’t speak while you work. Which is fine. You notice he’s drained his glass, and you empathize. Frankly you wish you had a drink yourself right now.

Once you’ve cleaned the cut it’s easier to see the damage. Which is minimal, thankfully. Most of the blood was probably from him moving around when it happened. You explain what you’re doing as you seal the wound closed. Only when you’re almost finished does he speak.

“Why don’t you ever bake me anything?”

It’s so unexpected that your hands still. You stare at him in astonishment, waiting for him to elaborate.

“What I mean is…christ,” Javier mutters. The unflattering fluorescent light overhead highlights the dark circles under his eyes as he scrubs a hand over his face. “You always leave extras of stuff at Steve and Connie’s. Never here.” With me.

You resume your work on his thigh, surprised to feel a tinge of guilt. “You didn’t seem like a baked goods kind of guy,” you reply, hoping you don’t sound too defensive. It was true, after all. Though you never got a sense of threat from Javier, neither did he seem the type who would appreciate domestic gestures of friendship.

He didn’t look offended, however. I’ll try anything once,” he says, the ghost of a familiar smirk suggesting he’s feeling better. But then he leans forward, all traces of smirk vanishing. “And your lemon drizzle cake was incredible.” Javier looks at you seriously. His face is too close for your level of acquaintanceship, but you don’t move away.

Surprised, you assess him anew, wondering if you’re catching a glimpse of the man beneath all the masculine posturing. He’s nicer-looking this way, you muse. His face softer, brown eyes wide and sincere. You hide just how pleased you are at this insight (which you’re sure he has no idea he’s giving you) beyond allowing yourself a small smile.

“Well, maybe next time I’ll bring you some.”

--

Javier can’t quite find another quippy response, so he just gives a small nod, finding it hard to draw back even after you break his gaze. He tries not to fidget as you place a final strip of tape over the gauze bandage.

“There,” you declare, your work complete. “That should hold you for tonight.” You stand and gather up your supplies, giving him care instructions as you go. “Got it?” You seem much more relaxed than when you first arrived, confidence in your work squaring your shoulders. It’s…compelling, much more so than your usual reserved smiles in the hall.

“Yes ma’am.” Javier nods, not having heard a word. “…Thank you,” he adds, begrudgingly grateful.

You smile wryly at him. “Goodnight, Javier.”

You’ve nearly reached the door when he speaks again. “Javi.”

“Hm?” Pausing, you turn back to him.

He clears his throat. “You…you can call me Javi.”

Your smile is much warmer this time, brightening your eyes, and Javier feels his heart pound. “Goodnight, Javi.”

[yer-cute-when-you-scream]

Prince Jackson Wang~ Royal!AU

WARNINGS: Narcissistic Parent, Angst, Fluff, Jackson Being A Brat, TW Violence. (I’m probably forgetting something)

A/N: Don’t ask me why this one is so long, I couldn’t stop writing for this one haha, although I feel like it could be better. I hope y’all enjoy it!

Prince Jackson was snobby, conceited, and arrogant.

Prince Jackson is brave, wise, and gentle.

He thought he was the best, and he only cared about himself.

But he humbled himself, and he is more caring towards his people now.

His mother was a very gentle woman, and she was able to keep the King from neglecting the Kingdom.  

She wanted to teach Jackson how important it was to be kind and considerate.

Unfortunately, the Queen had died when Jackson was a child, leaving him to be raised by an egotisical man.  

His father had spoiled him and imprinted a God-like complex in his mind.

He had made Jackson think that he was above everyone else, even their own people.

Jackson had grown up watching his father push around their servants and thought it was okay.

The King didn’t care for the Kingdom, even though there was a rising in crime.

The King let the Kingdom come to despair when the Queen died, for he did not care.

The King was obsessed with war and being the best, so Jackson was taught how to fence, handle a sword, spar, etc.

Jackson is very strong because of this; he can handle himself very well.

Fortunately, Jackson had never fought in a war, for others had managed to steer clear of his father.

The way Jackson was raised is something he is ashamed of, even if he is no longer the man he once was.  

He changed a lot of his ways after getting his portrait painted by you.

Crime, poverty, and pain was something his Kingdom no longer had to suffer.

When you had been requested to paint a portrait for the Prince, you were nervous. You had always wondered what the Prince was like. Was he noble and sensitive? Or was he just like the King?  

You had silently hoped it was not the latter, but to your displeasure, it was, you could tell he didn’t care about anyone except himself.  

As you sit on a stool with a canvas in front of you, Prince Jackson sat proudly on a throne encrusted with jewels, you would’ve thought he was so dreamy...if he didn't have an annoyed look on his face.  

“How much longer is this going to take?” he asks you, the insolent tone in his voice had you irritated. “Well, if you would have quit moving and just shut up, I would’ve been done by now.”  

Jackson looked taken back by your words, it was clear no one had ever talked to him like that before. He squinted his eyes towards you as your paintbrush softly glided on the canvas, “Who do you think you are to talk to me like that?” he scoffed, “I am the Prince, and you will treat me with respect.”  

You put the paintbrush down and stood up in a huff, “Respect, huh?” you begin while taking your art smock off, “You don’t even care, let alone respect your own people. Do you even understand what we all must go through while you live carefree up in that palace? No, you don’t, you’re just a spoiled brat who only cares about himself. Don’t you dare talk to me about respect, your Highness.”  

You felt your blood boil as venom dripped from your words. You threw your smock over the stool and began walking towards the door, Jackson furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to process everything and quickly stood from the throne, “Where are you going?” he asks confused.  

“I have been painting you for hours, I am hungry. You can either wait here for me or come back later,” you sighed.  

Jackson followed you out the door but turned and started walking back to the palace.  

The rest of the day your words replayed through Jackson’s mind, it distracted Jackson and made him mess up a few times while sparring. He felt guilty, no one had ever scolded him like that, he began questioning himself.  

Was he truly so self-absorbed that he didn’t see how much their people were in need?  

Why would his father tell him to not worry about the Kingdom?  

He decided he needed to talk to you, so the next day he readied himself and started walking to your art studio, as he started walking up the few steps that lead to your door, he heard a noise coming from one of the alleys.  

Curiosity got the best of him and he went to investigate, when he turned the corner, his eyes grew big. Some man had you cornered and was trying to rob you, “Come on, I know you have money, I saw the Prince leave your workshop yesterday, he must have paid you.”  

“Please, I don’t want any trouble! Just let me leave!” you pleaded while slowly trying to move past him, you felt very intimidated by the man and knew that you were going to be beaten, if not killed, if you didn’t get out of there.  

The man harshly grabbed your arm and slammed you against the wall, “You’re not going anywhere,” he growled and raised his fist.  

You closed your eyes and braced yourself for the impact about to come but instead heard a grunt from him, you opened your eyes and see Prince Jackson fighting with the man, Jackson was dodging swings and skillfully landing his own, the man knew it was a losing fight, so he quickly took off.  

Jackson wasn’t even panting, but his heart was definitely racing; along with yours. You stood there bewildered about the entire situation, “Are you okay?” he concerningly asks you.  

You simply nod, “Thank you,” you softly let out.  

“Can we talk?”  

You agree and lead him into the Tavern you often go to, you ask the Tavern Keeper, Martha to bring out two orders of your usual and then sit at a table in the corner. Jackson looked tense; it was his first time in a place like this.  

“What did you want to talk about?” you asked curiously, you could see something in his eyes but couldn’t make it out.  

“I don’t know anything about what goes on in the Kingdom, my father had told me to not mind anything that happens to our people. Please, tell me what is going on, I need to know.”  

You were taken back, he sounded sincere. He was no longer sitting proudly like he was the day before; and you could see what was in his eyes now, it was remorse.  

“Well...as you saw before, crime is the biggest one, a lot of people have lost their home or their shop because they were robbed, trade caravans have stopped visiting here because they’re afraid, so we can’t even trade,” Jackson intensely listened as you explained, mentally taking notes of it. “Poverty is the second one, but I’m sure you can guess why. Everyone is in pain; people have died because they were too poor to afford food or medicine when they were sick,” you tell him with a heavy heart.  

Jackson, who was clearly upset, grabbed your hand from across the table and held it in his own, his eyes locking with yours, “I promise you, I will do everything I can to make things right.”  

Before you could respond, a servant had walked up with two plates, you pull your hand back and thank her as she places the plates down, then she quickly excuses herself to let you eat.  

Jackson curiously looks at the food, he was so used to extravagant meals and wasn’t sure if he would like the food in front of him, “Just try one bite, if you don’t like it, I will gladly eat it,” you chuckle at the last bit.  

He grabs his fork and takes a bite, he was delightfully surprised at how amazing the food was, it was enough for him to start devouring the meal, leaving his taste buds satisfied, “That was incredible, I’ve never had something so flavorful before!”  

Martha walked over to you both and you smiled, “Hi Martha! How are things?” you greet her as you pull out a few coins for the meal. Her smile was sorrowful as she stopped you, “It’s on the house, consider it a ‘farewell’ gift,” she informs you, you could hear the pain in her voice, as well as Jackson.  

“What do you mean?”  

“I’m going to lose this place tomorrow because I can’t pay it off.”  

You furrowed your brows, “But you told me the other day you were about to fully pay off this place?” you reminded her, not wanting to hear what she was about to say.  

“I was, until someone broke in last night and stole all of my money. I can’t make it all back in a day, it took me months to save it all up. I have no choice but to go back to my parent’s farm,” she explained with her head hung low. You stood up and hugged your friend tightly, “I am going to miss you so much. I’ll visit you tomorrow before you leave.”  

Suddenly, something hit the table with a small thud, you both look and see that Jackson had pulled out his coin pouch, “Will this be enough, or do you need more?” Jackson asked with a serious tone.  

Martha realized who he was and stood there in shock, trying to find words before giving up and nodding. “Okay, wonderful! I would’ve hated to see my new favorite place to eat go so quickly,” he tells her with a smile.  

Jackson took the throne as the rightful King very quickly and kept his word, crime vanished almost overnight, people had their homes and shops back, and trading caravans started visiting the Kingdom again.  

Everything was as it should be.  

Jackson had invited you to the castle to help him make decisions regarding the Kingdom, it wasn’t long until you both fell in love with each other. He loves you and always aims to be a better person because of you.  

The portrait of Prince King Jackson hung in the great hall; showing a man who truly is the best.  

[blackberry-gingham]

This was kinda inspired by the previous anons request but could you write headcannons/imagines (whichever you think fits best) about being an actress and meeting their lad on the set of one of their movies/a movie

(Ok ik I have other requests waiting looong behind this one, but it's going to bug me if I don't do this first, so I'll post my next chronological request tomorrow instead of my usual every other dayish schedule! Thanks guys ❤️)

Honestly, the absolute MOOD™ of this gif has been on my mind for like all of the following imagines. Like the on periodt FLAVOR that actress is rocking, all done up and everything ?? John or [insert one of the other three] ob-sessed with you ?? Literally yes. So yeah, there's my overview lol, the rest is up to your imagination!

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy! 😌

George

You meet George on your way to grab a little refreshment before your scene in between takes

You've got a nice little flute of wine, to calm the nerves of course, when suddenly you get bumped rather harshly from behind!

Luckily your drink spilled on the floor and not your nice costume, but still, you're about to give whomever it is a piece of your mind!!

You turn on a dime and come face to face with... Oh

There, only inches away, stands the George Harrison, with a mouthful of food, a wrapped up snack for later, and eyes wide as saucers

It's a race to see who can apologise first

While you over come your shock at nearly cursing out one of the stars of the show, he hurriedly chews and swallows the last of his snack

"I'm so sor-" "-eg your pardon!"

You overlap each other with your apologies, causing a similar scenario again as you both accept the other's apology

The two of you chuckle a bit at that

At this point, George feels like he's just now getting a good look at you

He wonders if you're a recent hire, bc otherwise he certainly would've noticed the most beautiful woman in the building before now

Suddenly a touch self conscious, he wipes the crumbs from the corners of his mouth and scrambles for a way to make small talk

It's not really his forte, you see

Luckily, you come in to save him

You cock your head to look at his napkin of snacks

"What have you got there?"

"Oh these? N-nothing, just some scones or something like that"

He crosses his arms behind his back, like he's embarrassed to be caught smuggling snacks

"Oh! Have you tried the cream cheese and raspberry ones? They're to die for!"

George loosens up a bit. He wouldn't have guessed you were something of a food fan too...

He brings around his napkin of goodies and unwraps it a bit for you to see

"I have actually, would you like one?"

You thank him and take one, savouring the flavor while he pops another into his mouth as well

"See, quite good! Although, I'd dare say mine are better"

You laugh, but George simply stares

"You bake?" He says through a mouthful of scone, eyes alight

Of course you confirm that you do indeed, and your cooking is fantastic too, thank you very much!

The two of you talk about some of your favorite treats to make and from there... Well, George is pretty sure he's met his soul mate

John

Now when you meet John, I think you approach him!

He's backstage taking a smoke

You'd think he's just having a quick break to relax before filming starts, but the way he's looking around, shifting his weight, and fiddling with his outfit says it all

Classic stage fright

You remember those days, but as a seasoned, successful actress, you've learned a few tips and tricks you think might help!

For one thing, getting to know more then just your co-stars is a bit of a relief

Plus, I mean... It's John Lennon! And have I mentioned you're a bit of a fan?

So you approach, completely unfazed, and poor old Lennon does a double take

Out of gentlemanly habit, he immediately puts out his dart when he sees you coming

You come right up and introduce yourself with a "how do you do"

Now at this point, normally he'd respond with a witty but dirty pick up line, but...

He can't tell if he's just not in the mood from his nerves or what, but he just can't bring himself to do it

Or maybe... Maybe there's just something about you?

It's not every day such a fetching woman approaches him without screaming her head off and begging for an autograph in the process

Besides, there's just this air of confidence about you that puts him at ease

You make it look so effortless too!

He wishes he could be like that...

John nods respectfully with a quiet "just fine thanks"

He doesn't bother to introduce himself, he simply assumes everyone here knows who he is

You tilt your head and smile invitingly

"Are you sure? Excuse me for saying so, but you seem a bit nervous"

Well, regarding the filming coming up, he was a bit, but standing here, talking with you?

He certainly is now!

"It's fine, just thinking about my lines and such"

You can tell he's lying, but you let the matter go to switch up tactics

"Well I'm sure you'll be just fine out ther- Oh? Hold on..."

You casually saunter up to him as though you've known him for years to straighten his tie and smooth down his lapels

Despite your boldness, John puts up no resistance. In fact, he finds he rather enjoys your touch

He's so use to a more... different sort of touch when it comes to women, to the point that he's nearly forgotten just how fulfilling soft and gentle contact like this can be

Forgetting himself, John leans into your palms a bit as you finish petting them across the chest of his suit

You definitely notice, but decide to have mercy and say nothing about it

"Just remember, if you need a little stage advice out there, I'll be around"

You wink at him and walk off to your dressing room

John waits a moment until your out of sight, weighing what just happened in his mind

You know what?

He smiles to himself and jogs after you

Maybe he does want some advice...

Paul

Now Paul I think is the one guy of the four to seek you out!

You're relaxing in your dressing room adding just a few small touch ups to your lipstick and so on until you're on

When the gentle knock comes to your door, you assume it's your assistant come to fetch you

You check the time and then hurry over to answer the door

"Yes yes, I-"

Paul is standing with his hands clasped behind his back, a respectful distance from your door

When he'd heard you were the leading lady of this film, he knew he simply had to see you in person

He's a bit of a fan himself you see, and he can tell you right now, the camera doesn't do you half justice

Paul's mouth forms a little "O" as he looks you up and down so quick, it's almost subtle

Not at all impressed, you look at him expectantly, but try to hold back any attitude

"Can I help you, Mr. McCartney?"

He snaps out of his daydream and at last looks at you with the respect you deserve

"Oh, my apologies love, I just wanted to greet my co-star!"

Paul gingerly takes your hand and kisses your knuckles

Alright, maybe you're a little impressed

"I've heard so much about you, I couldn't believe it when they told me you were going to be a part of our little film"

He laughs, and then clears his throat awkwardly

"Sorry, I guess I'm just something of a fan"

You're a bit taken aback to see Paul, the ladies man himself, McCartney acting flustered, but what a compliment for one of the Beatles to be a fan of you

Needless to say, you're nice about his being awkward and hang around for a little conversation

He tells you about all the movies he's seen you in and how wonderful a job he thought you did

You're really enjoying the moment, after all, what a rare one it is! Until your assistant comes to fetch you and Paul for filming

"Oh yes, we'll be right along!"

Paul calls after your assistant and more or less shoos them away

Once you two are alone again, Paul fidgets a moment fishing around in his pockets

"Now I know you get this a lot-"

He pulls out a newspaper article and a pen, then holds them out to you

Upon closer inspection, it's the headline from when you were recognized for your first acting award

"But could I please get your autograph?"

Then he leans in and whispers, "and please don't tell the lads..."

You laugh and assure him his secret is safe as you sign your name in flowing script before handing him his prize

Paul looks like a child in a candy shop, he's so excited

You smile sweetly and begin heading towards the filming site

Before you know it Paul trots up beside you, following close

He looks from you to his newspaper clipping once and then twice before his eyes linger on you

"You know, I have a record from one of your plays back at the hotel... Could you-?"

At first you shoot him a look, but the puppy eyes he's giving you assures you he means no funny business, so you promise him ❤️

Ringo

You meet Ringo backstage in between sets, right before your scene

And when I tell you the first time Ringo sees you, he immediately knows he would die for you...

!!! RINGO. IS. STAR STRUCK !!!

You're already gorgeous as is, so when his first time seeing you is all done up with your hair, outfit, and makeup for the movie he's just BLOWN AWAY

And as he should be 💅🏻

There's still a decent bit of time before he needs to take his place or anything like that, which is good bc his brain is in a whole other dimension rn

You're absolutely magnetic and all he can think to do is approach

"Oh, hello Mr. Starr! Can I help you?"

"hi"

You blink at him for a moment, not quite sure what's happening

But when it hits you, you quickly cover your mouth with a gloved hand, trying your very best not to laugh at the poor guy

Ringo however, is completely under your spell at the moment

"I uuuuh, I'm Ringo"

His big droopy eyes are absolutely transfixed in a dreamlike haze on your beautiful face, and he offers you his hand to shake

Now you're REALLY trying not to laugh

You give his hand a shake, brushing off any awkward feelings, and introduce yourself

Ringo repeats your name aloud, looking now as though he's been transported into a dream

That's your name? He loves that name! How did you know!

After a moment of awkward silence while you let him process, he thankfully seems to return to reality

"Ahem, sorry, I didn't mean to bother you"

He looks away quickly, now starting to realize he's made himself out to be quite the fool

"Well I feel rather silly, uh"

He scratches his neck and sneaks a glance up at you

Thankfully, you're very understanding! You have a lot of fans, and his behavior isn't quite unheard of in your experience

"Oh, no no! It's no trouble at all!"

You give a genuine laugh and tell him you're always glad to meet a fan

Ringo responds with a little humor to relieve any last traces of tension or awkwardness and then laughs his deep, goofy laugh

You contemplate what a strange but wonderful sound it is

And you know? wouldn't mind sticking around to hear it again...

Besides, he's clearly already very interested in you

That, and it's nice to meet a gentle soul amongst your fan base, rather then the clamoring men and women you're used to

Ringo smiles at you with pure admiration, before picking up some easy small talk with you, just as though you're anyone else

It's at that moment you officially fall for him

[petersasteria]

Fuck, We’re Screwed - Tom Holland AU

Pairing: Hotel Manager!Tom x Events organizer!Reader Requested? Nah but I asked @allyz to pick a number from 1-4. 3k words

* * * * 

You never knew that you would meet the man of your dreams and when you did, it was perfect. He was a receptionist at a hotel that you frequently organized events at. You guessed that your clients loved it there and you admitted that it was lovely.

Grand Elite Hotel was the place. The first time you went there, you were just one of the customers. You never would have guessed that in the years to come, you would organize events there. It was fresh to be on the other side of the event. You were always the guest and it was refreshing to organize the events this time. It made your job easy because you knew what guests wanted and didn't want.

Tom was just new on the job that time and he was assigned to direct the guests to the events hall. If someone asks about the said event, he would direct them there. Tom did great and when all the guests were there, he went back to the reception.

A few hours later, the event was finished and everyone was packing up at the events hall. Tom knew it wasn't his job, but he just wanted to check out the particular event hall that he kept directing everyone to. He peeked and entered as soon as he saw everyone cleaning up. Then, he saw you. You were busy stacking the chairs and he went over to help you.

"Hey." Tom said softly as he handed you a chair. "I'm guessing you're the organizer for this event."

"You guessed right." You chuckled and shook his hand. "I'm Y/N."

"Tom." He smiled and let go of your hand. "If you don't mind me asking, what was the event?"

His question made you roll your eyes. You didn't have a problem with him. He seemed nice. You just had a problem with the event itself.

Tom saw you roll your eyes and he assumed that he said something that might have offended you. "Oh, did I say something to hurt your feelings? I am so sorry!" Tom said nervously.

You quickly shook your head, "It's not your fault, Tom. It's just the event itself."

"What's the event anyway?" Tom asked as he stacked a few chairs.

"It's a kid's seventh birthday party. I hate kids, but as an events organizer, I shouldn't be picky with my clients. They paid me a huge amount of money and I'm super grateful for it." You said.

"I can sense a 'but' coming." Tom chuckled.

"But the kid is such a brat!" You exclaimed. "You should've seen this whole place before packing up. It was like a Disney princess shit in it, I swear!"

"Everything was pastel pink and there was random shit on the ceiling. Y'know, the balloons and the paper lanterns and the lights. Then each table had fancy candelabras made of glass as centerpieces. The fucking giveaways were put in a really expensive purse. And as if the whole thing wasn’t expensive enough, inside the purse there's a Chanel lip gloss in the shade of 'tender rose', a baby brush from Tiffany's, a sparkling pink heart bracelet from Pandora and to top it all off, personalized keychains also from Tiffany's." You ranted.

"Then we went ice cream tasting one day and she hated everything! We ended up trying EVERY SINGLE STRAWBERRY FLAVOR at different ice cream parlors." You added.

"Jesus, she sounds like a nightmare." Tom shook his head.

"May I remind you that she's only seven. I don't want to imagine what it would be like when she's sixteen or older." You sighed as you finished stacking the chairs before looking around to see if there were other things needed to clean up that your crew forgot.

"Damn. I could imagine." Tom rolled his eyes as he put his hands on his hips.

 "I fucking hate kids." You muttered under your breath, but Tom heard and looked at you quickly. You turned to him and apologized thinking that you offended him or thinking he had a kid of his own. "Oh my god. I'm sorry if I offended you or anything. You probably have a really nice kid and—"

Tom quickly shook his head, "Oh, fuck no! I don't have a kid. I was going to say that I hate kids too. They're all so whiny and stuff."

"Right?! The curse ends with us." You joked causing Tom to laugh.

You and Tom got along quick after that. Soon, you went on dates and eventually became official.

You've been dating since you were both 23 and you were still dating until now. Both of you are now 27 living in a shared apartment in London with the same old jobs you had when you both met.

It was both yours and Tom’s day off and both of you have been invited to Harrison’s  second baby shower and as soon as you arrived at Harrison’s house, both of you were greeted by Harrison and his fiance.

“Hey! I’m so glad you could make it!” Georgina, Harrison’s fiance, said with a smile. You smiled back and handed her a gift. “Oh, thank you! I’ll put this with the other gifts.” She said and excused herself.

“Congrats on your second baby, mate. We’re so happy for you!” Tom said with a smile. Harrison gave you both a tight lipped smile as he carefully looked around.

“I need to talk to both of you.” Harrison said as he led both of you to the kitchen. You and Tom looked at each other, but followed Harrison anyway. When you arrived at the kitchen, Harrison looked around to see if someone was listening. When he didn’t see anyone eavesdropping, he quickly looked at both of you.

“Are you okay?” You asked him in concern.

“Don’t do it.” Harrison quickly said.

“Don’t do what?” You asked in confusion.

“Don’t have kids.” Harrison said quietly. “I love my daughter. I really do. I also love the little rascal in the fucking womb right now, but this parenting shit is tiring.” 

“I want to sleep the whole day, my body hurts from carrying my daughter around, my ears are ringing from all the crying, my head wants to explode because of all the annoyance that’s building up inside of me, I have no privacy anymore, I can’t watch what I want, and they whine all the fucking time and they throw tantrums. So, I’m begging both of you to not have kids. Save yourselves.” Harrison ranted.

“Thanks for telling us this wonderful information.” Tom chuckled. “But Y/N and I got that covered. We aren’t planning to have kids, anyway.”

“Yup! So, you don’t need to warn us about it. We already know that kids are a handful and we just don’t want that pressure, y’know?” You said and Tom nodded.

“Good.” Harrison said. “Anyway, enjoy yourselves. I have to find G to make sure she has everything covered.” With that, Harrison left.

You and Tom were helping yourselves to the food there when you suddenly felt unsatisfied with the food there. Tom looked at you and said, “What’s up? This is your favorite food.”

“I don’t really feel like eating it.” You frowned. “It’s weird, isn’t it?”

You’ve been having weird cravings lately which was weird considering you were really picky. You also felt bloated and you haven’t had your period in two months as well. But that was normal for you because your period had a weird cycle; sometimes you would have it every month and other times, you’d skip a month of two.

While you thought this was all normal, Tom was thinking otherwise. It was becoming a nightmare for him because he had a strong feeling that you’re pregnant. He wanted to ask you to take a test, but he didn’t know how to ask you because he knew you would be annoyed.

“Hey, Y/N?” Tom said nervously.

“What if you took a pregnancy test?” Tom suggested and you looked at him annoyed, just like he expected.

“Why on earth would you suggest that?” You asked.

“Because you’re showing signs of pregnancy, that’s why!” Tom said quietly. “Just take one test or go to the doctor and after that, we can live our lives again.”

You didn’t agree to it, but after a few days of thinking, you finally went to the doctor after setting up an appointment. Tom couldn’t go with you because he was working. He got promoted to being the hotel manager and it demanded more of his time. You currently didn’t have any events to be working on, that’s why you agreed to check with the doctor. 

Two words haunted you on the way home and you didn’t know what to feel. It was a shock to you and you didn’t know how Tom would react. Both of you weren’t even engaged yet.

“You’re pregnant.” The doctor said with a smile.

When you got home, you called your mother because you didn’t know what to do. You were lying on the couch as you waited for her to pick up.

“Hi, sweetie!” Your mother said cheerfully. “It’s so nice to hear from you. How’re you and Tom?”

You smiled as she mentioned Tom. He was your whole world and he meant everything to you. Your family absolutely adored him and they knew of your plans about not having kids. Despite being upset, they respected your decision.

“We’re good; really good. He’s, uh, he’s at work right now. He actually got promoted to hotel manager, so yeah. That’s that.” You answered.

“Oh, how wonderful! Why don’t both of you come here for lunch on his day off? We should celebrate.” Your mum excitedly said.

“Sure. I’ll tell him. That’s not why I called, though.” You said and bit your lip nervously.

“Oh?”

“Mum, I’m pregnant.” You blurted out as you sat up and leaned back on the arm rest of the couch. The other line went quiet for a while and you could almost imagine your mum quietly telling your dad the news and asking your younger brother to put the phone on speaker.

“Mum? Are you still there?” You asked.

“Yes, yes! I’m here. honey. That’s-That’s wow. I thought you and Tom didn’t want to have kids…” Your mum trailed off.

“We still don’t want kids, but this is such a surprise. What if Tom leaves me?” You tear up as you thought of Tom leaving you.

“I don’t think he’ll leave you. Both of you should talk about it.” She suggested.

“Okay.” You sighed. “Well, I have to go now. Tom is coming home soon and I have to prepare dinner.”

“Alright, sweetheart!” She smiled through the phone. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I hope both of you will keep the baby. It’ll be hard, but once you see them grow up and be the person they want to be, it’ll be so fulfilling to know that you raised that child. I’m not forcing you, okay? I’m just saying that in case you decide to keep the baby.” She said.

“Thanks, mum. I’ll call you soon.” You said. You said your goodbyes and hung up the phone. You got up from the couch and started to prepare Tom’s favorite meal. Thirty minutes later, Tom got home and went straight to the kitchen.

“Hi, darling.” He smiled and kissed your cheek. “I see you’re cooking my favorite. What’s the occasion?”

“Nothing.” You shrugged… y’know, like a liar.

“Okay.” Tom brushed it off. “I’ll just change my clothes and I’ll join you in a bit.”

Tom could sense something off with you while both of you were eating dinner and it made him frown. He set his fork and knife down and asked, “Is there something you want to tell me? You seem off; it’s like something’s bothering you.”

You gulped and looked at him. You took his hand in yours and sighed, “Please don’t get mad.”

Tom nodded and asked what was wrong. “I’m two months pregnant.” You sighed. Tom just looked at you and nodded. You looked at him in curiosity, “You’re not mad?”

“Darling, I already knew. I mean, I had a strong feeling that you were.” Tom said softly.

“What’ll we do?” You frowned.

“We’ll figure it out.” Tom said.

You and Tom thought about it for weeks and while you were thinking about it, you told Tom’s family about the pregnancy and they were so happy for both of you. You and Tom didn’t want to admit it, but both of you were growing attached to the little human growing inside of you. Whenever you were stressed, putting a hand on your growing belly was sort of comforting. Tom loved tracing circles on it whenever he cuddles you and it gave him peace.

At this point, you were already seven months pregnant and you still didn’t know the gender. You and Tom still didn’t know what to do about the baby and both of you kept avoiding the topic. You know you have to talk about it soon because you’ll be giving birth in two months.

Eight months in and you finally talked about it. You and Tom agreed that you’d put it up for adoption. After all, kids weren’t part of your plans. No one would take care of your kid despite grandparents from both sides are willing to babysit.

“We should start looking for a family then.” You said softly as you and Tom laid in bed at night. Tom nodded and said, “Yeah, we’ll get that sorted soon. Should we name it? Or will we let the family pick it?”

“I mean… I gave birth to it and you’re the baby’s dad. The baby won’t have anything from us aside from their genes, so I guess we should give them a name too.” You said.

Tom tried to hide his smile and said, “Good.”

“Let me guess… you already have a name in mind?” You chuckled.

“Yup!” Tom smiled.

“Let’s hear it.” You said as you snuggled closer to him.

“I went for a neutral name: Dakota.” Tom said. “Or London. Any of those are fine.”

“I think I like Dakota.” You smiled.

“Dakota it is.” Tom grinned and kissed the top of your head.

Due date.

Tom was freaking out because he was at work and he couldn’t get to you immediately because it was also traffic. You were rushed to the hospital, thankful that Harry and Sam were with you.

“Y/N, calm down, please!” Sam shrieked as he sped through the road going to the hospital. He was sure that he was overspeeding, but he didn’t care. You mattered more.

“Don’t tell me to calm down when a little human is coming out of me!” You screamed at him as Harry held your hand in the backseat.

“Yeah, shut up, Sam!” Harry said.

You finally arrived at the hospital and they immediately brought you in the delivery room as the twins contacted Tom.

“Mate, where are you?!” Sam asked as soon as Tom picked up.

“I’m here! I’m looking for a parking spot.” Tom said frustratedly.

Sam rolled his eyes and said, “Harry will handle it. Get your ass here!”

Harry’s eyes widened at the mention of his name, but Sam just pushed him towards the direction of the exit. Harry quickly ran to where Tom was and Harry quickly got in the car after Tom got out.

He quickly ran inside and saw Sam. “She’s in there!” Sam said and pointed to where the delivery room was. Tom nodded and quickly went in there.

“Sir, you can’t-”

“It’s okay! He’s the father!” You sighed in relief as soon as you saw him. The nurses gave Tom the proper attire and after putting it on, Tom went straight to your side and held your hand.

“You’ll be alright, love. I got you.” Tom kissed your hand and smiled at you.

After being in labor for fifteen hours, Dakota was born. Turns out, Dakota’s a boy which surprised both of you because you and Tom were betting that Dakota would be a girl.

You were now in your hospital room as you looked at Tom who was holding Dakota. He instantly fell in love with his son and it made him change his mind about giving him up for adoption. Seeing the scene in front of you, made you realize that you wanted to see it everyday. 

“Hey, Tom?” You whispered.

“Hm?” He hummed, not looking at you as he continued to stare at Dakota.

“I don’t want to give him up for adoption anymore.” You said softly. “I’m sorry if-”

“I want that too.” Tom smiled as he sat down on the chair next to your bed. Dakota started to fuss and Tom panicked and carefully handed Dakota to you. You breastfed Dakota and he calmed down as Tom watched in awe.

“I love you, Y/N.” Tom smiled.

“I love you too.”

“Will you marry me?” Tom asked which made you look at him in shock. “I figured we should go to the next step because it’s just going to be you and me and now, Dakota. We can move out of the apartment and buy a house. We’ve been saving for so long and-”

“Yes, I will marry you.” You gushed causing Tom to smile and get something from his pocket. It was a velvet box and he opened it to reveal the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen.

“How long have you had that?” You asked.

“Long enough.” Tom answered with a grin. “I was just waiting for the right time and darling, this is definitely the right time.”

“You can put that on me later because my hands are full.” You giggled. “We have a baby and we’re engaged. This is amazing.”

“You’re amazing, darling.” Tom leaned forward and pecked your lips. Both of you sat in peace when Tom broke the silence, “I hope we don’t screw up.”

“Ugh, same here. We’ll do our best and I trust you. We’ll be alright.” You smiled to assure him.

“Yeah.” Tom nodded and glanced at Dakota causing him to lessen his worries, “We’ll be fine.”

* * * *

𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @abrielleholland @poguesholland @superheroesaremytea @marshxx @buckys-little-hoe @harryismysunflower @ella-whyte @buckys-little-hoe @harryismysunflower @hollandsrecs @slytherin-chaser @quaksonhehe @lil-mellow-bunbun @turtoix @badreputationlove @swiftmind @sovereignparker @nerdyandproudofitsstuff @pearce14 @xfirstfemale-marauderx @cherthegoddess @justanamesstuff @chewymoustachio @cocoamoonmalfoy @peterspidey @givebuckyhisplumsnow

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @marvelousell @justasmisunderstoodasloki @rubberducky-jrr @allyz @osterfieldnholland @miraclesoflove @god-knows-what-am-i-doing @drie-the-derp @hollands-weasley @itstaskeen @call-me-baby-gir1 @the-panwitch @iamaunicorn4704 @geminiparkers @holland-styles @calltothewild @fancyxparker @herbatkazmiloscia @whatthefuckimbisexual @justanothermarvelmaniac @unsaidholland @musicalkeys @lost-in-the-stars03 @hufflepuffprincess24 @hollanddolanfangirl @parkerpeter24 @bellelittleoff @agentnataliahofferson @aqiise @lexirv @blairscott @hi-im-maddie​ @xfirstfemale-marauderx​ @u-rrose @speedymaximoff

[dustofbrokenheart]

The Covenant: Coffee Shop Date

Reid Garwin x Reader

Word Count: 1,414

You sped into the first open parking spot you saw at The Brew and rushed to unbuckle yourself. In fact, you were so rushed that you didn’t even give yourself a final glance-over in your car mirror.

You were already super late so you just had to cross your fingers that your face and hair still looked as good as when you left the dorms. Power walking, you entered the cozy coffee house and didn’t even have to bother looking for Reid.

Your date saw you as soon as you stepped inside and whistled loudly. “Babe! Over here!”

You noticed the blonde instantly, not only because of the noise, but also because he was waving a beanie around back and forth. You walked over to the corner booth and shook your head.

“Put the beanie down Reid. You look like you’re trying to direct traffic or something.”

He lowered his arm. “Too much?” he asked not at all embarrassed.

“Just a little,” you answer, putting your thumb and index finger centimeters apart. “The color is festive though. Orange doesn’t look to bad on you.”

While you were speaking Reid pulled his hat back on. He smoothed out the ribbed fabric, brushing his blonde hair off of his forehead.

“What can I say, I’m a slut for Halloween. Just wait until I put in the matching earrings.”

He had recently gotten his ears pierced, and was currently rocking black studs, but you wouldn’t be surprised to learn he actually owned orange earrings. Even if he didn’t, he was the type to buy a pair just because he had joked about it.

You choked while trying unsuccessfully hold back your laugh. It was no use. Your laugh was the kind that came from the gut and shook your whole torso. Reid didn’t mind though; your open reactions are one of the things about you that prompted him to keep asking you out on dates.

The laughter trailed off and you leaned across the small table to poke the stud. “Black is a great color on you too though.”

Redi grabbed your wrist and pressed a kiss on the inside of it, right on the part where the tendons and veins were clustered. Your instant reaction was to pull away and hide your hand under the table. Reid and you were a fairly new item—in fact, not even an official item yet—so you were still much shyer with public affection than he was.

What if someone were to see?

Not one to be deterred, his foot crept forward under the table until he made contact with yours. You looked at him with wide eyes, but he continued to poke at you until you finally smiled. Many people would be surprised to know how respectful Reid was of your boundaries and he never judged you for being reserved.

Eager to pick up the conversation again, you asked, “So… did you order anything?”

“Nah, I wanted to wait for you,” he admitted shyly tugging at the beanie. To recover from his moment, he teased, “But if I had known how long it was going to take you to get here, I could have got something and finished it before you got here.”

“Sorry,” you stressed. “I couldn’t find my keys! And, of course, they were in the very last place I looked.”

“That’s pretty lame excuse, babe.”

You got in line to order and kept trading wits. “You know, I’ve never actually been to The Brew before.”

“And you call yourself a local. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Okay, big man, you order first then,” and you shoved him at the counter. You heard him telling the young cashier boy what he wanted, but you were too preoccupied trying to choose something off of the menu to hear what he said.

“What can I get for you miss?” asked the cashier once Reid was finished.

“Hi,” you told him while still reading the board in the front of you. It would probably be best to order something you were familiar with, like tea. “I’ll get a small cinnamon tea and that’ll be it.”

“Oh. Are you sure? We have really good muffins or egg sandwiches, if you want something to eat.”

Reid snapped his fingers in the boy’s face. “They said that’s all, bud.” The cashier jumped, like he just recognized Reid for the first time.

Reid had a bad reputation around town for being a delinquent what with his piercings, tattoos, and confrontational attitude. So, the kid being spooked by him wasn’t too out of the ordinary. But that didn’t stop Reid from grumbling about him.

“Don’t worry about it,” you patted his shoulder. “People in Ipswich can be judgy.”

He gave you an unamused glare. “That’s not my problem with him.”

You cocked your head in confusion. So what was bothering him?

The cashier called out that your order was ready. Taking the initiative to pick up the drinks, you went to grab the cup carrier from him and your fingers touched his.

For a spilt second his face blushed pink and he looked at you with wide eyes. In the next second, he dropped to the linoleum floor. Hard.

It didn’t look like he had slipped on anything. In fact, it looked like he was pushed down. Which was even more impossible than the first scenario because no one had pushed him. Unable to make out what you had just seen, Reid sauntered up behind you and looked on with satisfaction at the cashier who was struggling to get up.

“Serves him right for checking you out like that.” Reid grabbed the cup carrier from you and walked back to the table. He tossed over his shoulder as a parting remark “Take it easy, bud.”

You made sure the poor boy was okay before following Reid back to the table. You still weren’t quite sure what to make of that fall, but you had figured out what had set off Reid.

“There’s no need to be jealous, you know. I’m pretty sure he’s only a freshman.”

“Trust me, just cause he’s a freshman doesn’t mean isn’t interested. I know flirtatious intent when I see it, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes. Reid was always under the assumption that other people were interested in you. Which made no sense because Reid was the only one who ever showed interest in you entire four years at the academy.

“But justice was served, so I guess I’ll leave him alone.”

“You’re such a meanie,” you say while testing your drink with a tiny sip. “Hmm. This is actually pretty good; it’s a nice fall flavor.”

Reid noticeably perked up, eager to get back to the date, and started talking to you about fall related things.

“You want to carve pumpkins sometime?

I’m glad the birds are heading south—I hate dealing with bird shit.

You should definitely perm your hair for the costume. Seriously. Do it.

Candyman is the best dressed movie killer period. That fur coat was straight luxury!”

Never let it be said that your time with Reid was boring. His thought process was unique and his observations even more so. You didn’t know many people that ranked movie slashers on their fashion. Or seriously recommend that you perm your hair to make your disco costume more believable. (Your parents would hate him for that, they preferred your hair straight.)

During a lull in the conversation, Reid grabbed his cup and realized he still had some of his cider. He waved it in front of your face and offered you some. You quickly agreed and found it was even better than the tea you ordered. You’d definitely have to get this if you came back soon during the fall you thought as you wrapped your lips around the straw and took another sip.

Suddenly, Reid interrupted your cider enjoyment and blurted out, “Are you ready to leave?”

His question left you feeling a bit hurt. Was he bored already? Still, you managed a nod. You didn’t want to keep him here if he didn’t want to be.

“Good,” he said, leaving you even more sour until he whispered in your ear.

“Cause I’ve been dying to kiss you for the last twenty minutes and I know you don’t want me to do it here. Meet you back at the dorms?”

Well. It seemed he definitely wasn’t bored of you yet. 

_______________

I don’t recall Reid having pierced ears in the movie, but he already has tatts and the beanie/fingerless gloves combo, so I figure it’s not that far of a jump. Thanks for reading!