#in front of her. because we’re not very similar

[kiss2012]

i feel so pathetic like genuinely that i have to hear all these people saying they’re having the time of their lives and i think well im having a time. but it’s not the time of my life.

[typosandtea]

Nobody including me posts about their ocs enough so please please please reblog reply or whatever with some oc tidbits!

[luveline]

YES to luna lovegood/dreamy!reader!!!!!!!!! Can we possibly get one with Spencer? <3

“It’s not as bad as you think.” 

Hotch appreciates the softness of your voice, as someone who also speaks in a very measured tone, but the sound of it has his brow furrowing. You’re a brilliant analyst, and a worse distraction whenever you’re in the main office. 

“It sounds terrible?” 

Hotch peers through the window to get a good look at the scene. You’re sitting in Spencer’s desk chair with your hands stretched out in front of you. Your outfit is very pink, considering the occasion, but it’s a non-abrasive light pink that flatters your skin. You have a clip in your hair, a small silver star with pink jewels embedded along the lines. 

Emily sips at a cup of coffee, leaning against the desk, her face to the side. Hotch can see her perturbed smile. 

“It’s fine! I’ve just been sleeping on the sofa.” 

“Well. That’s a call to pest control.” 

Spencer returns to his desk with a frown and two mugs. “Pest control?” he asks, the mug he places in front of you steaming. 

“There’s a raccoon living in her bedroom.” 

Spencer burns himself on his coffee, swearing as he puts it down hurriedly beside yours. “There’s a what?” Spencer asks. 

“He’s friendly. He came in through my vent.” 

“So friendly he’s stolen your bedroom?” 

You lean back in Spencer’s chair like it’s a La-Z-Boy, blowing at the hot surface of your drink with a similar lazy smile. “Imagine being that little and having such a big bed? When you usually sleep in the garbage?” You give a breathy laugh. “He must be having the time of his life.” 

“How are you getting ready in the mornings?” Spencer asks worriedly. 

“We’re cohabiting.” 

Spencer licks his lips. He likes you, and you seem aware of that fact, and that’s nerve-wracking for everyone involved. 

“Um, maybe we can make him a house? Like, outside? Raccoons are far happier in their natural habitat, and they’re also, you know, highly diseased and contagious compared to humans. I really don’t think you should let him inside.” 

“Spencer,” you say, giving him a dozy grin, “I didn’t let him in. He knows how to get in all by himself.” 

“I’ll call a repairman, too,” Emily says with a groan. 

She walks away, probably to find JJ and get her in on the repairs. Spencer looks at you for a long time, just drinking your tea, and Hotch mentally goads him into making a semblance of a move. Even if it’s just to fix your drooping hair clip. 

“You’re looking at me strangely again,” you say. 

Winces all around. “Am I?” Spencer asks. 

“Yes. Is this about Thursday?” 

“No.” Spencer swallows. “Yes. You didn’t answer my texts, after. I just want to know what you’re thinking.”

“What I’m thinking?” 

“Yeah. I thought about it a lot, so maybe you did too. Or maybe you didn’t, and it didn’t mean anything.” 

“Of course it meant something, Spencer.” You put down your mug, dusting your knees off before you stand. Spencer is not much taller than you where you’re standing in front of him, but you look up at him anyways. Your face tips ever so slightly to one side. “Would you want to do it again?” you ask softly. 

Spencer looks around the office. He neglects to check Hotch’s window, perhaps because the blinds are more often drawn than not, and so he doesn’t realise Hotch is watching as he draws you in for a kiss. 

You preen and lean back, hands fighting to cup his cheeks, a gauzy, practically gleaming aura around you as you smile into his mouth. Your fingertips tease his hair, and Spencer’s hand settles in place against the small of your back. You kiss back for only a few seconds before you’re laughing.

Spencer moves away quickly, taking your wrists into his hands to pull them away from his face. 

“You give up too fast,” you say. 

“I don’t think this is the place for it.” 

“Well, we can’t do it at my place. What if the raccoon sees?” 

“Good point. How about Marina’s, would that be better? We can get dinner at the same time.” 

Hotch feels oddly proud of Spencer’s suave suggestion, but he also has a migraine brewing between his brows. He really doesn’t need the extra paperwork. 

[onlybeeewrites]

A Change of Plans

Request: hi!! could i request a oneshot for haymitch where theyre already in a relationship, takes place during the 75th hunger games and shes reaped, reader is very similar to annie cresta - soft spoken, shy, kind but emotionally fragile due to past trauma - maybe haymitch and katniss’s alliance negotiations are more desperate because he promised to get her out of the games? please and thank you!!

Pairing: Haymitch Abernathy x Fem!reader 

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: mentions of PTSD, spoilers for Catching Fire 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The train hummed beneath them—too smooth, too quiet—like it had no business carrying something as ugly as death. Haymitch sat stiffly in his usual seat, a glass in hand he hadn’t touched. For once, the burn of liquor wasn’t enough. Not for this.

The reaping was over.

For District 12, at least.

Katniss and Peeta were reaped.

Well—he was. Technically.

Peeta volunteered, though it wasn’t like Haymitch could do much to stop him. Not when the Capitol stacked the deck so neatly, not when Snow already knew every move they’d make before they made it.

It was all exactly what he feared.

And somehow worse.

Because it wasn’t just Katniss and Peeta.

It was who else had been chosen.

The third Quarter Quell.

Where the victors themselves became the tributes.

A punishment wrapped in a celebration.

He hadn’t seen her yet. Hadn’t let himself imagine it. Wouldn’t allow her face to take shape in his mind—not until he had to. He thought he could delay it. Maybe she wouldn’t be reaped. Maybe, for once, the odds would lean in their favor.

Now, the screen played the recaps—district by district. A slow, cruel countdown. Effie had turned the volume up, her voice unnaturally chipper when she said they should “know who we’re up against.”

Peeta sat with his elbows on his knees, eyes fixed. Katniss sat rigid beside him, barely breathing.

A notepad lay in Peeta’s lap, filled with frantic notes and rough sketches. Names circled, others crossed out, arrows and question marks scribbled into the margins. He wrote based on Haymitch’s earlier comments—strategy, personalities, strengths. He wanted to be ready. Wanted to protect her.

They didn’t know how impossible that would be.

Haymitch sat bracing himself. His hands were already trembling, though he hadn’t taken a sip. He didn’t look at the others. Didn’t dare.

District 8.

The screen flickered.

There she was.

Standing alone on the platform, washed in that horrible blue-white Capitol lighting that made everyone look a little more ghost than human. Her hands were folded in front of her, fingers white at the knuckles. Her shoulders hunched slightly, like she was trying to make herself disappear into herself.

Just her and one other female tribute.

She hadn’t changed much. Maybe a few more lines around her eyes, a new softness in her features. But the essence of her remained untouched. The gentleness. The quiet strength. The kindness.

Even now, she looked soft.

Everything the arena was not.

Katniss inhaled sharply beside him. “Oh.”

Effie’s hand fluttered up to her mouth, her expression crumbling. “Oh no…”

Haymitch didn’t look at them. Didn’t acknowledge anything but the screen. His heart thudded slow and sick in his chest, and his fingers curled tight around the glass he still hadn’t touched.

Y/N stepped forward when they called her name. Her voice was low, trembling—barely above a whisper. But she walked. Unflinching. No dramatics. No sobs. Just the quiet dignity she always carried, like a thread sewn into her very bones.

She didn’t look surprised.

She didn’t cry.

That was her.

Always braver than anyone realized.

Braver than him.

“Won’t the other volunteer for her? She’s…” Peeta’s voice trailed off, uncertain, trying to say the right thing. “She’s not the most violent, is she?”

Haymitch’s jaw clenched. “I doubt it,” he said tightly. “The other female victor, Cecilia. Sweet woman. But she’s got three kids. If she wasn’t picked, she wouldn’t volunteer.”

Katniss was watching him now, not the screen. Her voice dropped into something softer than he’d ever heard it. “You didn’t think they’d pick her.”

“No,” he said flatly. “But then again…” He raised the glass, whiskey burning his throat. “Sometimes the odds are leaned into our favor.”

He tasted bitterness more than alcohol.

Because he knew.

He knew Snow did this on purpose.

Picked this Quarter Quell theme.

Picked Katniss.

Picked her.

This wasn’t justice. It wasn’t random. It was Snow’s hand around his throat, squeezing harder every time Haymitch dared to hope for something better. Dared to love something again.

Haymitch leaned forward and set the glass down, scrubbing his hands over his face like he could erase the image burned into the back of his eyelids—his wife, his wife, standing stiffly as Peacekeepers took her from the stage. They cut the footage just before she looked back.

But he didn’t need to see it.

He knew that look.

He’d seen it before.

The first time she was reaped, before they’d ever met.

Before she won.

Before he ever dared to let someone in again.

He had spent years protecting her in the only way he knew how—keeping her name quiet, keeping her out of the Capitol’s grasp, tucked away in the shadows of District 8. She had always felt too good for this world. Too soft for it. But she’d survived it once.

Her condition, her fragility, her gentle demeanor—none of it ever made her weak. It just made her precious. To him.

Now they were throwing her back into the fire.

“Haymitch,” Effie said gently. Her voice had lost all its Capitol shine. “I am… so terribly sorry.”

He didn’t answer. What was there to say?

There was no plan. No maneuver. No clever twist of words that could undo this.

All he could see was her. That quiet smile she gave him when she mended his clothes. The way she held his hand in bed when the nights were too dark. The smell of her hair. The small kiss to his wrist when she thought he was asleep. Her voice saying his name like it meant something.

Gone.

No.

Not gone.

Still within reach.

The plan was still in motion. The one he’d built with Plutarch piece by piece. But now… now it needed to be reshaped. Bent to save her.

He stood abruptly. His voice was rough, slurred at the edges, but solid where it counted. “She’s not dying in that arena.”

“Haymitch—” Peeta started, knowing that at the end, only one of them could get out. There was no way they’d let them get away with it a second year. 

He turned, eyes burning. “I mean it. I don’t care what it takes. If we’re—” He stopped himself. Too many ears. Too many cameras. He gritted his teeth.

Katniss nodded slowly, picking up what he was putting down. “We’ll watch her back. But you know how this works. Especially now. Only one can make it out.”

Only one.

That’s what the Capitol wanted them to believe.

But Katniss and Peeta didn’t know what he did.

Didn’t know Beetee’s plan.

Plutarch’s plan.

Didn’t know the ship hovering beyond the clouds that would be ready for when the time comes.

Didn’t know he’d already laid the groundwork to get her out. He just needed to get the other Victors on board.

He just had to keep Katniss alive long enough to make it happen.

For the rebellion to happen.

But now he had another factor to worry about. His wife was now stuck in the games. Haymitch needed to figure out a way to keep her safe. Sponsors would only do so much, and Cecelia would ensure you were looked after. The capital loved you and all the clothes you made. A Capital favorite, especially to all the designers like Cinna.

Maybe Finnick would do. He could be trusted.

Or Johanna. She liked Y/N. Had a soft spot for her, even if she’d never admit it.

It could work.

It had to.

Effie dabbed her eyes with a lace handkerchief. “She’s one of the good ones,” she whispered. “Always has been.”

Haymitch didn’t reply.

He couldn’t.

He turned and left, boots heavy against the floor as he crossed the car to his compartment. Once the door slid shut, he walked to the window and leaned a hand against it. The tracks blurred by below, the sky painted in ash and dying light.

Somewhere out there, she was being powdered, painted, packaged for the cameras. Being forced into a dress she didn’t want. Touched by hands that didn’t know her. Made to smile through the terror.

Somewhere, she was alone.

And he was here.

But not for long.

This time, he wouldn’t watch from the sidelines.

This time, if the world wanted war—they’d get it.

Because no one was taking her from him again.

Not without burning for it.

[jazziejax]

𝐈 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Michael B.Jordan x Black!OC

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - The Sinners premiere…

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - mentions of gross bodily fluids, twin nephews, rpf…

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - I don’t know why I wrote this, I had an idea (that I still might do, because it invoked trailride MBJ…) and I felt like I needed context to the characters connection, so I wrote this. But it was also commenting to get different dynamics and creativity flowing. Sorry for any grammar mistakes or spelling errors.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 3,314+

𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐘𝐨𝐫𝐤, 𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

“Will you stop rubbin’ your hands on the dress? You’re gonna get the fabric all spotty with your sweat.” The southern lily from the older woman next to her rang out in the black SUV. Her words were aimed at the woman sitting next to her, whose gaze was focused on the passing New York scenery out of the tinted window.

“The dress is black, you wouldn’t see it anyway.” The woman responded, not taking her eyes away from the yellow cabs she still wasn’t used to seeing, and she always had the same thought whenever she saw them soled by. Do people still even use taxi’s?

“Well, first off, the dress is a dark navy blue.” The woman next to her added, not missing a beat as she stared at her extremely nervous sister. “And second, not matter what, those camera are gonna catch those spots of oil and sweat.”

“Mentioning the cameras is not going to make me feel any less nervous, Ebony.” The other woman spoke back up, turning her head away from the window, blinking as she took in a sight other than the moving city, in what felt like hours. Her eyes automatically connected with ones that mirrored her own. The big brown orbs of her sister, a woman with a face so similar to hers, simply blinked as she pursed her lips.

“I want trying to make you feel any less nervous. I’m just telling you the truth so you’re not angry at the world later when you see photos of spots on your dress.” The woman, Ebony, answered sassily. “Ivory.” She added at the end, moving the girls walker comment.

Ivory rolled her eyes as she let out a small groan, slumping back in her seat and training her eyes back out of the window. “I feel like I’m gonna throw up.” She groaned.

“Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t eat.” Ebony grinned, moving her hand over to give the woman a small pat on the arm. Ivory cut her eyes to her sister, giving her a lethal side eye as she blinked hard. “I can throw you stomach acid.”

“You can only do that when you’re sick.” Ebony stated.

“Well I had a pop tart last night as a midnight snack and I still haven’t pooped out of sheer nervousness.”

“I don’t think you’re gonna throw up a pop tart.”

“Can you two quit your fussin’?” Another voice chimed into the conversation, causing both women’s eyes to move to the passenger seat of the SUV, where a teen girl that sat, dressed all nice with her make up and hair did. Her body was angled to look back at them, and she gave a sheepish smile at the cold glares she received in response. “Sorry.” She said, letting out a small laugh before she sat back in her seat correctly.

“Well I’m not.” Another voice chimed in, but this time from behind the women. It was a male voice, though not anything deep. The sister in the front didn’t even tune to look back at him, and he didn’t seemed to care as he continued. “I don’t want to hear about vomit and poo right now. And especially not my TT’s.” He said, letting out a small groan.

Ebony looked back at that, looking her son in the eye. “We’re all family here, Nasir, you can hear about your aunts bowl movements. It’s totally normal.” She said, and the car was instantly filled with laughs, though the woman was very serious.

“Yeah, Nas, don’t ruin the familial mood with your antisocial behavior.” Another male voice chimed in. Nasir sucked his teeth as she looked over at the male next to him, who shared his exact face. “Shut the hell up, Cai.”

“Uh!” Ebony, Ivory, and the girl in the front seat, all chimed in simultaneously, turning to look back at him.

“What your mouth, mister.”

“Nasir, you might be grown, but I’m still your mother. Don’t you use that language in front of me, you hear?”

“Oooo.”

Nasir smacked his lips, his down turned eyes blinking as he looked between his aunt and Mom. “My bad.” His eyes the drifted to the girl in the passenger seat, who was looking at him with a mischievous smirk on her face. “Moriah, quit being annoying. You’re acting like a child.” He hissed.

“It doesn’t matter how I act, I’m younger than you and you’re a man. Deal with it.” The girl deadpanned, not even bothering to acknowledge a response as she turned back around in her seat. Facing forward again made her glance over at the driver when the car started slowing down. She pursed her lips at the older white man. “Sorry about my family, they’re a bit country and immature.” She apologized playfully, in a tone that was meant to be low, but she knew her nosy family was listening. And it wasn’t like the statement wasn’t meant to be heard.

“Moriah!” The girl heard the entire back of the car yell at her, but she ignored them as she watched the old man chuckle. “It’s fine, car rides like this are my favorite. Better than the silence or whatever they play on the radio nowadays.” He said, his Italian accent a bit thick and something unlike Moriah’s ever heard with ear won ears. She was fascinated being in the Big Apple.

“Well, I’m glad you find amusement in this circus.” The nineteen year old girl continued. “So, how long you been doing this here job?” She asked.

“Not long, not longer than most. I’ve been driving around celebrities for about eight years now.” He said.

“What’s it like?”

“Rich, stop questioning him. That’s rude.” Ivory said. “Yeah, you sound like the police.” Cairo added from the far back, not even looking up from his phone. The girl was about to turn around in her seat, for the hundredth time again, to say something smart or her brother, but was stopped by the older gentleman speaking. “No, it’s alright. I like the question.” He stated. “The jobs not all too bad, but I’ve always been sort of an…observant man. And the stories that I have?…Let’s just say that my daughter love them.” He said, causing the car to erupt in light chuckles. “You all remind me of my family.” He added. “Very authentically yourself. I like that about you.”

“I don’t.” Ivory added, a small smile on her face as she looked out the window. Moriah let out a small gasp at that, looking back at her aunt. “What?” She asked, and though she tried to mock offense, the grin that was appearing on her face gave away her joke to those who knew before she even said it. “Why can’t be ourselves, huh? Why can’t I be me? Are you ashamed of us?”

“Very.” Ebony and Ivory said at the same time, and the car was instantly loud with laughter from them, though the joke might not have been fully understood on Ebony and the drivers end. And it seemed that was just the moment that was needed before the family had to exit the car, the vehicle slowing down making them privacy to the premier that was happening right outside. Moriah let out a small gasp again, moving to roll down her window a bit, and the loud city instantly met their ears over the already boisterous hustle and bustle that was New York City. “Wow, I can’t believe I’m at a movie premiere!” Moriah squealed with a large grin on her face.

Ivory, who was looking out of the window at the crowd full of screaming fans and flashing cameras with a dar away look in her, let out a small hum. “Me neither.” She mumbled. She blinked as the car pulled closer and closer to where they would have to get out and then walk the carpet. They pulled in beside some other cars and a gentleman in a black suit with an ear piece walked over and opened, Ivory’s door. They pulled in girl looked back at her sister one last time, knowing they would have to get it at another spot and then walk the carpet with her.

“The dress is black, not navy.” She said before getting out and closing the door behind her. And through she was nervous, her face held a small grin as she placed her hand on the man’s arm and he began to lead her away, all while she heard the sound of Mariah’s faint laugh since her window was still down.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

The second Ivory’s heel touched the pavement, the world seemed to shift. Flashes from cameras exploded in front of her, bright and blinding, like tiny bolts of lightning striking her from every direction. The sound of the crowed became a muffled roar in her ears. A mixture of excited screams, shouted questions, and pulsing music from somewhere nearby all vibrated against her chest.

For a moment, she just stood there, feeling rooted to the spot almost like a deer in the headlights as she waited to step onto the carpet. And as soon as she did, it was like switch had been flipped as she beamed and waved at those around her. She tilted her chin up, pasted on a small but dazzling smile, and stepped fully onto the carpet.

The flashes only intensified as she moved forward, one slow and careful footstep after another, her hand gently skimming the fabric at her side to make sure she didn’t trip. Her dark…navy or black—she still wasn’t sure—dress shimmered under the lights, the silky fabric catching in the breeze.

“IVORY! IVORY, OVER HERE!”

“WHO ARE YOU WEARING?!”

“LOOK THIS WAY, BABY!”

The paparazzi were barking her name now, their voices cutting through the chaos. Ivory turned her head toward the shouting, her smile widening into something more natural, though it was mainly out of the pure nervousness she was feeling, showcasing her silver fanged grills. She adjusted her shoulders the way Ebony had instructed a hundred times — roll them back, open your chest, make yourself look taller — and tried her best not to blink against the assault of camera flashes. She struck another pose after pose, just a simple shift of her weight to one hip and a tilt of her head — and heard the reaction: a louder flurry of clicks and a few whistles from the crowd. She even gave a then a better show of her plated teeth, bringing her manicured nails up to pull lightly at her glossed lips, showing her silver canines, top and bottom. Another frenzy.

Maybe it was the adrenaline. Maybe it was the sheer ridiculousness of how big all of this felt. But Ivory found herself laughing. A soft, genuine little chuckle that she tried to suppress but couldn’t quite keep inside.

And just like that, it wasn’t so terrifying anymore.

A man with a clipboard approached, motioning her forward toward the backdrop where more photographers stood.

Ivory walked with careful, deliberate steps, remembering every tip Ebony had crammed into her brain: small strides, no stomping, soft hands, relaxed face. She reached the backdrop and turned slightly, letting the train of her dress fan out behind her as she poked her leg out of her slit. The photographers barked at her again:

“TO YOUR LEFT!”

“GIVE US THAT SMILE!”

“SHOW US THE RING!”

Ivory blinked. Ring?

Oh — right. She had thrown on a few pieces of jewelry last minute, including a silver ring she wore on her right hands middle singer, one that she stated prior was her and Ebony’s good luck charms. She was surprised someone even revered that, and who ever said that had obviously done their research on her prior. She lifted her hand a little, showcasing the ring without making it obvious she had no clue what she was doing.

More flashes. More shouting.

The nerves were still there, fluttering like birds in her chest — but now, something else joined them.

Excitement.

Pride.

A growing sense of, Hey…maybe I belong here after all.

And even as she had that thought, those words quickly morphed into an all too familiar voice. One that’s been saying those exact words to her for months now. One that paired with a handsome face and brought her a warm feeling to her heart. She turned as she was posing, and it was as if her thoughts simply conjured him up. She spotted the familiar face out of the corner of her eye, but soon an another staff member waved at her, signaling it was time to start the walk down the carpet for interviews awaited.

Ivory gathered her courage, gave one last smile to the screaming crowd and the flashing cameras and turned toward the next part of the night.

Behind her, the flashbulbs popped like fireworks.

Ahead of her, the adventure of a lifetime was just beginning.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

Ivory’s heels clicked softly against the carpet as she made her way toward the first interviewer. A woman with a sparkling microphone and an even sparklier smile waved her down, and Ivory paused in front of her, smoothing a hand over her hip.

“IVORY!” The woman chirped brightly, already grinning. “You look stunning tonight! How are you feeling?”

Ivory tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled, the nerves turning into something easier to carry. “I’m feeling…a lot, honestly.” She admitted with a soft laugh. “It’s overwhelming, but exciting. Like — I don’t know — stepping into a dream you didn’t even know you had until it’s right in front of you can be a bit much but it’s still something I appreciate. ”

The interviewer warmly at her. “Wow, that was so beautifully put. And might I say — your dress is everything! Absolutely to die for! The teeth?!” She complemented, causing Ivory to smile as she laughed. “Thank you, thank you.” She said, bowing her head a but at the woman in acknowledgment to her compliment. “Who are you wearing tonight?” The interviewer asked.

“Uh, it’s a Schiaparelli haute couture by Daniel Roseberry.” She responded in a soft one, feeling weird telling that information. This was her first time having to or simply being able to say things like that, and she still feeling the nervous buzz from being on the carpet. “It’s custom, we wanted something that sort of fits the edgy scheme of the film.” She added with a nod. The interviewer nodded with a polite smile before continuing and the rest of their time didn’t last even a few minutes until Ivory thanked her and moved forward to the next stop.

The second interviewer was a tall man in a sharp black suit, holding his mic a little closer to Ivory once she stepped up.

“Ivory, you’re having a huge moment right now. This is sort of your big acting debut, so tell us, what’s been the biggest pinch-me moment you’ve experienced so far?”

Ivory thought for a second, the lights glinting off her grills as she smiled thoughtfully. “Hmm, Honestly…it’s the people.” She said. “Being in rooms with like minded creatives and actors I grew up admiring, Like Delroy Linda and Omar Millar, and realizing they’re just people with dreams just like me. Very kind people. Some others have even become friends.” She hesitated for a heartbeat as her smile widened, her mind flickering to a particular someone. “People I hold dear to my heart now.” She finished, her grills nipping at her lips as she smiled. “So, yeah. It’s the people, definitely.” She nodded.

The man leaned in, intrigued. “You’re smiling, are there some names you wanna drop there?” He asked with a grin.

Ivory laughed, flashing her silver canines. “Not yet.” She teased. “Gotta keep a few things to myself.” She said, and they shared a small laugh before he asked her a few more questions and then she was onto to the next.

She moved on to the last interviewer, who was waiting for her at the far end of the carpet. This woman was about her age, deep brown skin and sharp-eyed. She greeted Ivory warmly. “Miss Ivory.” She said, her voice smooth and practiced. “Congratulations. I have to say — you are truly a vision tonight.”

“Thank you so much.” Ivory said shyly as she poached a hand on her shoulder. “You look amazing as well.” She then gave the woman a small curtsey that made the her chuckle. “Now, I have to ask.” The interviewer continued, tilting her head slightly. “We’ve seen the trailer, we’ve seen the leading man.” She began, causing Ivory to let out a laugh, already knowing where this conversation was going. “And we’ve seen the reviews about how sexy this movie truly gets. So me, and the people, want to know if the rumors are true and your character is involved with a certain main character?” The woman asked, amusement clear on her face. Ivory laughed, a genuine laugh leaving her lips. “Oh wow.” She chuckled, her silver fangs poking at her bottom lip as she grinned. “Uh, I can’t say.” She answered with a shrug. “You’ll honestly have to watch the film to see. I know the trailer shows moments between Michael and Hailee, but there’s a clip of me and him in there, but you all will have to see how it all plays out.” She said.

The interviewer hummed before looking back at the camera behind her. “There it is guys, she’s gonna be getting steamy with Michael B. Jordan.” She said and Ivory’s cheeks warmed at that as she laughed — and before she could figure out how to politely stir the conversation else where, a familiar hand gently touched the small of her back.

She turned — and there he was.

Michael.

Looking heartbreakingly good in a sleek blue suit with black lapels, a grin spreading across his face the second their eyes met, showing his similar silver fanged grills. “Sorry to interrupt.” Michael said, his voice low and warm, but easily picked up by the cameras. He slid his hand from her back to gently take her hand, lifting it to press a kiss just above her knuckles. “I haven’t seen you in so long.” He said to her, looking her in the eye. Ivory grinned up at him, not saying anything but a soft ‘Hi’ that the microphone caught.

The interviewer blinked, delighted — as did the few from the crowd that caught the sight of their main man.

“No interruption at all.” The woman laughed. “In fact, you having perfect timing. We were just talking about you.”

Michael smiled as he turned to the interviewer, never quite letting go of Ivory’s hand. “I just couldn’t let her stand here answering questions about me without at least showing my face.” He said and Ivory let out a soft, slightly breathless laugh, looking up at him in a way that said more than any words could. The interviewer, picking up instantly on the energy between them, smiled knowingly. “We were just speaking on your characters potential connection in the movie and you two seem very comfortable together. The people out there want more of this bond.”

Michael squeezed Ivory’s hand gently, his thumb stroking the back of it like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. “She’s the absolute best. My best girl.” He said simply, looking at Ivory, not the cameras. “I’m her biggest fan.” He said, knowing that the words would affect the girl. Which was proved right by the way she ducked her head at his words with a large smile on her face. The crowd nearby let out a soft chorus of laugh, as well as some aww’s, and the flashes from the cameras picked up again when she looked back up at him.

[traveler-at-heart]

Doctor's In - Part 13

Summary: Your life in Boston after Wanda.

The air is cold, and just your luck, today you left the car outside of the building’s parking lot.

Maybe it’s not such a bad thing after all, as a cute woman is inspecting the black Corvette, in awe of the elegant and expensive car.

“Want a ride?”

“This yours?” she says, genuinenly fascinated.

“Yeap” you nod. “She’s a beauty, 490-hp 6.2-liter V-8 engine”

Do you know what those words mean? Not at all.

“My father and I used to fix cars. I need to send him a picture. Can I?”

“Sure, go ahead” you smile. “I’ll even take one of you standing next to it”

You pull out your phone.

“Oh, wait, I should have given you mine” the woman says, and you smile.

“Or you could give me your number and I’ll send the pics” you smile at her, offering your phone.

“Very smooth” she blushes, taking it.

“If you wanna talk about smooth, the leather seats are just…”

“Ugh, it’s too cold to take my motorcycle, can you give me a ride to the hospital?” Yelena interrupts, coming out of nowhere as usual.

“Shh, go away” you push her behind you.

“God, we’re gonna be late. Just skip to the part where you lie about texting the girl and get on with it” she mumbles, and luckily only you can hear her.

“Sorry, she’s being annoying” you elbow Yelena’s side. “I’ll send you the pictures, and my offer for a ride still stands”

“Well, alright then. Have fun babysitting” the woman comments, which earns her a glare from the blonde.

“Get in the fucking car” you mutter. “Why can’t you ask your mother for a damn car? She has lots of them”

“Like the one you borrow and use to get phone numbers? I don’t understand why you do it, you never call them”

“It’s not about having a date. It’s just fun to talk to girls. I never really did it outside of college” you shrug your shoulders.

You never call them because the thought of being with someone who isn’t Wanda is simply absurd.

But you don’t expect Yelena to understand it.

“I never ask for a car because then she’d be like See, I was right, a motorcycle was a bad idea”

“Get both, like your sister”

“No, because then she’ll say I’m copying her, like when she went to school with a green backpack and I got one that was similar the next day. But green has always been my favorite color” she rambles.

“Are all the Romanoffs this complicated?”

"Is your music taste always this random?" Yelena points at the screen. "Yesterday it was ABBA and now it's Metallica"

"Don't even think about changing it" you say, slapping her hand away.

You finally get to the hospital, parking in your spot, which is one of the best ones in the entire facility.

Melina is trying to convince you to stay beyond your three month contract, and she’s not shying away from providing a life of luxury, with a penthouse and a fancy car included.

If it wasn’t because you’re busting your ass in the ER, you’d feel like a sugar baby.

“Go and check on the people waiting, I have to sign discharges and look at some post ops” you tell Yelena as soon as you walk in, and she nods.

“Morning, everyone” you greet the front desk. “Is Patrick ready for his recital today?”

“Yes, he’s very excited” Nurse Roman says.

“Well, as a doctor I don’t feel comfortable saying break a leg, so let’s just leave it at good luck”

“That sounds perfect to me, Doctor Y/L/N, thank you” the woman says. You’re smiling until you notice the frown on Peña’s face.

“Don’t look at me like that. Not my fault you keep betting on Shelton when he’s literally playing against Alcaraz”

“Shelton is the future of American tennis”

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over the resounding noise of your debt” you say, going back to the charts but keeping your palm open. You don’t look up until he gives up, putting a 20 in your hand. “Pleasure doing business with you, Peña. I’m so looking forward to Indian Wells and Miami back to back”

You don’t realise that Natasha is also at the front desk, signing a couple of discharge forms.

It’s been a month and you’re already friends with half the people who work here. Natasha’s glad, because it can be miserable to be isolated while you’re away from home.

The other side of her can’t help but feel really stupid too, because all this time she thought you were flirting and in reality, this is who you are with most people.

Now that’s a fast way to humble someone.

“Hi, Doctor Romanoff” you say, finally noticing her. “Ending your shift?”

“Yeah. How about you?”

“Starting a 48”

“Didn’t you just do one 12 hours ago?” she says.

“Yeah, but my brother and sister are coming over so I need the weekend off” you smile, actually excited. Natasha is probably one of the only people who could understand how good it is to reconnect with your siblings, but she’s been distant with you ever since you came to Boston.

So, you wish her a good day, and walk to the madness of the ER.

“Fuck my life, fuck it hard” you mutter when you notice who’s there. Ed Lorne, aka clown nurse. He’s a young one, practically fresh out of college and with an unhealthy obsession to behave like Patch Adams in that movie that always puts you to sleep (No disrespect to Robin Williams).

“Please tell me his shift is almost over” you plead to Yelena.

“Don’t be mean. He’s trying to make an impression”

“He already did and it’s a fucking awful one”

The fact that there’s no swear jar around has turned you into a sailor on leave. Not that you keep track, but if the twins could hear you, they’d be set for an Ivy League education.

Stop thinking about this, you mentally scold yourself, trying to breathe to settle that uncomfortable feeling at the pit of your stomach.

Yelena mistakes your frustrated sigh with a protest as Ed approaches you. Truthfully, it’s a bit of both.

“Top of the morning to you, Doctor Y/L/N” he says, removing an imaginary hat.

God, you’re gonna strangle him with a stethoscope.

“Guy in bed six has problems with urinating and I’m like well, more like ur-out of my bladder!”

“Boy, you’re really bringing the theater kid energy today, aren’t ya” you complain, ignoring Yelena’s smack on your arm.

“Why, thank you for noticing”

“No, that wasn’t a compliment. Check all of my post ops and medication, then fill out the medical records in the computer”

That should keep him busy for the next two hours and away from you.

“Evil” Yelena mumbles, but she’s laughing along.

You take care of a few people, ordering lab tests and other stuff that is quickly taken care of by the staff. It’s nice to have an ER that is never short on medical personnel.

You finish your exam on a patient just in time to get your daily call.

“Hello, Judas”

“Darcy!” you say, always with the same enthusiasm.

“I hate you” she repeats, every day since you left. Well, minus the first week. You didn’t have a phone at all. “Carol hates you too and you’re no longer invited to her wedding”

You can faintly hear Carol’s voice in the background, shouting that what Darcy’s saying is not true.

“I’m trying to get her to come back” Darcy explains. “Look pal, it’s either the good way or the bad way aka getting you in the Psych ward until you go back to your senses”

“I don’t suppose you could get my stuff and send it over?”

“No, for two reasons. One, if I see Wanda I’m going to kill her and dos, you belong here. So it would be stupid to send stuff that you’ll need when you’re back. Besides, how do you know Wanda didn’t throw them away?”

“I just do. Ok, it was nice being emotionally manipulated by you, but I gotta scrub in. Same time on Monday? Remember I’m seeing Zach and Jenny this weekend”

“Yes, get me all the deets on the gossip and yes, same time”

“Love you, pal”

“Screw you”

Darcy hangs up, but stares at her phone for a moment longer. She does miss you and even if she’s giving you shit for it, she understands where you’re coming from.

“Are these the CVs for Chief Fury?”

“Yes” his secretary says, carrying a couple of files. “He doesn’t like to read on the computer”

“Oh, here, I’ll take those”

And Darcy does take them. Straight to the trash can.

Gotta make sure the job’s open when you come back.

—

You’re out of shape. It’s been 27 hours and the work keeps on coming. It doesn’t help that Boston is so much bigger than Westview.

As you sit in one of the front desks, looking over paperwork and lab results, Ed comes in, holding a deck of cards.

“Pick a card”

“Did you get the lab results for Mrs. Pattmore?” you say, resisting the urge to slap the deck to the floor.

“No, they said it would take another hour…”

“Can you check again? Thank you”

Fortunately, he leaves and you sigh.

“He’s quite the character” a man shows up next to you, and you nod.

“He is very useful when I need urgent results from the lab. The technicians can’t stand him so they rather not see him around” you laugh.

 “I haven’t seen you before. I’m doctor Stephen Strange. Yes, that is my last name” he adds when you frown.

“Oh, nice to meet you. Yeah, I’m the interim Head of Trauma. Just until they find someone new”

“Huh. Not what I heard”

Well, there’s no way Melina will convince you to stay. But then again… you never thought you’d take the job in Boston.

“That’s definitely my plan” you assure him. “Were you on break?”

“Honeymoon. We just got back” he nods towards another woman who joins you, her smile wide. “Doctor Christine Palmer, meet… sorry, I didn’t get your name”

“Y/L Y/L/N. Congratulations to the both of you” you shake her hand.

“Thank you, how are you liking it here so far?”

“Everyone’s great” you say, but Christine catches your exhaustion.

“Lorne was just here asking to do a magic trick”

“Ah. That” she nods.

“Yeah” you get paged, and then wave at them. “See you around, and welcome back”

There’s a man coming in with a stab wound. Another shift from your work in Stark Hospital; the frequency of people who come in as a result of fights is a lot higher.

It was very rare to treat these kind of things in Westview.

“BP 130/70, no external bleeding or fractures” Yelena says and you nod, encouraging her to continue. “I want a chest X-Ray, transthoracic echocardiogram and blood work”

“The patient’s yours, Doctor Belova”

You’re honestly impressed. Yelena has been putting the work, and she’s very talented, especially while working under pressure.

“She has a good teacher” Melina speaks. The woman has a talent for knowing what people are thinking.

“Well, it’s in her blood, isn’t it? The whole Romanoff dinasty”

“Yes. By the way, this is your last patient. You’re not to be on call for so many hours in a week. The workload is very different here. And we will talk about a bonus so you can buy something to that girlfriend of yours to thank her for letting you be here”

About that.

Nobody knows Wanda kicked you out.

Except Yelena, but that’s because she kept asking about what Wanda said when you decided to come to Boston. The only way to shut her up was by telling her the truth.

It’s impressive that she’s kept the secret for so long.

“No need for a bonus, I’m doing my job as usual”

While you wait for the results of Yelena’s patient, the man begins to complain about pain between the shoulder blades.

“Lorne, book an OR and page Yelena” you say, knowing that’s a bad sign.

The blonde scrubs in as you begin the laparoscopy.

“What’s wrong? I’m still waiting on the results” she says, standing next to you.

“Pain between the shoulder blades is not a good sign for this type of injury. I’m seeing blood cloths in the anterior surface of the stomach and the liver. We’re switching to a laparotomy”

You find three lacerations in the liver and one in the stomach. Well, Melina’s plan didn’t work; you’re staying here for a bit longer.

As you move to inspect the pericardium, you look at Yelena, asking if she sees anything.

“No, it’s fine. Aside from the diaphragmatic perforation”

“And how are we closing that?”

“Ethibond suture with pledget” she answers after a slight hesitation.

“You’ll do it and I’ll be watching” you nod, moving aside. Truth is, your shoulder is hurting. It’s the old injury combined with the extra workload.

“Need any help?” Natasha walks in, and you shake your head no.

“I thought your shift ended”

“Came to do some post ops, and Doctor Romanoff asked me to help so you could go home”

“I’m fine” you lie. But Natasha stays in the OR, looking over Yelena’s shoulder.

“You’re making me nervous”

“Good. You could use some pressure. Y/N’s going soft on you” the redhead teases.

“I’m not!” you say, laughing. “I’ve been told I’m a great teacher”

“I’ve heard” Natasha nods.

Though Yelena takes a little bit longer than you would have, her work is excellent. Once you check everything’s done, you give the team instructions and scrub out.

“What are you doing with your siblings?” Natasha asks, joining you.

“Well, Jenny’s looking at NYU to apply. So I’ll meet them in New York, take them to a Broadway show. I was hoping they’d wanna go to the Met but not holding my breath for two teenagers to choose a museum”

“That’s fair. Have fun with your family” she smiles.

It’s weird to think about them as your family. They are, of course.

But to you, family is an entirely different group of people. One that you’ll never see again.

“Thanks. See you around” you nod, hoping to get some rest.

—

You never thought you’d be eager to see your family, but here you are, waiting in the airport, looking for Jenny.

As soon as she spots you, she runs towards you.

“Hey, kiddo”

“Make room for me” Zach says, jumping right in and making sure his sister has no room to breathe.

“You’re so annoying!” Jenny complains. Even if she’s three years older, Zach is a lot taller, being in that awkward teenage phase. “This trip was supposed to be just me”

“Y/N invited me” he says.

Well, kinda. He inserted himself in your conversations with Jenny, and as soon as he heard the words weekend in New York, he was ready to go.

“Well, I didn’t alter my girls weekend schedule for you, Zach. So just so you know, you’re getting a manicure and we’re plucking your eyebrows” you tease, walking them to where you parked. Of course they argue over who gets to ride in the front. “Alright, this is a rental. So, rule number one, no eating in the car. No throwing stuff at each other. No feet on the dashboard. And no one changes the music”

“Fine” they agree.

“First stop, the penthouse, then NYU”

Melina had heard about your trip and went out of her way to offer you everything at her disposal. Exclusive tickets, the Romanoff penthouse (apparently they have one in every major city), a reservation in a very nice restaurant.

You took most things happily. In a way, this is your compensation for emotional damages.

“So, what happened between you and Wanda?” Jenny says.

“Wow, can we at least have lunch first?” you accidentally hit the brake, making Zach hit his head against the headrest of your seat.

“I’m blind!”

“You’re fine” Jenny shushes him, turning to you. “I’ll tell you about our parent’s divorce”

“Ugh, deal. But you go first”

So, as you get food, Jenny tells you everything, with the occasional intervention from Zach. It’s nothing exciting, not technically. Their father finally realising your mother is an evil witch and taking their children away from her. It would have been ideal to do it when they were younger, but whatever.

“And you guys are doing good?” you ask, making sure things are better.

“Yeah… I just feel bad for her sometimes” Jenny admits. “Like what if she’s lonely or sad, you know?”

“That’s because you’re a good kid” you smile at her. “Let’s go get changed, we have to be ready for your college tour soon”

“What about your part of the deal?”

“Later” you say, trying to avoid talking about it.

By the time you reach the penthouse, you can’t help but admire the view to Central Park. It’s even bigger than the one they gave to you back in Boston.

“I want the biggest room” Zach says as soon as they drop their bags.

Of course, they’re engaging in a fight that involves some name calling and a lot of finger flicks on the forehead.

“You guys are worse than…”

They turn to look at you and you smile, trying to keep it together.

“Worse than…” Zach says but you shake your head.

“Nothing. Come on, better change fast”

Worse than Wanda and Pietro.

Will you ever stop thinking about her?

—

Earning the title of cool sister only takes a borrowed penthouse, Broadway tickets and exclusive seats at Yankees Stadium.

It’s day two and though you haven’t been able to convince them to go to the Met, you’re still enjoying yourself.

Kind of.

“So how long do these last?” you ask again, even if Zach explained the rules a dozen times already. “Ok, next time we’re going to the US Open because at least I’ll understand the game”

“So, you’re planning on staying here?” Jenny asks and you shrug your shoulders.

“There’s no plan for anything, really. I have two months left on my contract”

Zach goes to get more food and you keep watching the game in silence.

“Are you ok?” Jenny asks. Truthfully, though you’ve enjoyed spending time with them, Wanda’s been in the back of your mind more frequently than when you’re busy with work.

You can’t help but think about all the trips you never took with her, or wonder what she’d think about the city.

“Want the grown up answer or the big sister being brave answer?”

“I’d like the truth”

“Well…” you take a deep breath. “I’m not ok. I fucked up big time. I had everything I wanted within reach and just… I don’t know. Maybe it was never meant for me. It was too good”

“You are good enough for it, come on. Don’t say that”

“It’s hard to believe it when I hurt her so much. And the kids. But, it is what it is I guess”

“I’m sorry. If you wanna talk…”

“I know, sis. Thanks” you smile at her. All of the sudden you hear the crowd roaring and look up to see a ball that’s coming straight your way. You catch it, thinking nothing of it, while some people around you begin to speak to you. “What? Do I have to throw it back?”

“Are you insane?” Zach comes out of nowhere, taking it from you. “This is the coolest thing!”

“It’s a ball” you say, looking at the field.

“Nu-uh. It’s Camarena’s 50th home run. You know, the most promising baseball player of the season”

“Ok, if you say so”

Turns out it is a very big deal, as the player wants the ball back and is offering to meet you in exchange for it. You let Zach decide for the two of you, and his answer is an excited yes.

So, you take a couple of pictures and thank him when he hands you a signed baseball bat.

“Thanks, Carme…”

“Camarena” Zach elbows you. “I’m your biggest fan”

Yeah, you definitely earned the award to coolest sister, and it had nothing to do with all the money you spent. It came down to your ability to catch a freakin ball, like a competition with a golden retriever.

“We still have some time before we have to take the plane. What do you wanna do? You’ve been doing everything we want to” Jenny says, and you think about it.

“Let’s have a picnic in Central Park”

“Sounds fun” she agrees, while Zach keeps taking a million pictures of the bat.

As you walk around the park, you find something that unlocks a memory that was totally lost on you.

“Balto!” you point at a statue of the sleigh dog. They both look at you with blank expressions. “You’ve never seen Balto? Seriously?”

“I don’t know. Mom wouldn’t let us watch some stuff. She said it was silly to have a movie with speaking animals”

“That and Ghostbusters. But we never learned why”

“Oh, that’s because she and dad watched that movie on the day I was born” you explain while you pull out your phone to take a picture of the statue.

“Mom is such a bitch” Zach mutters and it makes you laugh.

“Come on, kid. Screw the picnic, I’m buying you the biggest burger we can find”

“See? I’m her favorite already” he teases Jenny and they begin to argue again. You hug them, staying in the middle to prevent a fight.

“Love ya both, kiddos”

—

Coming back to an empty house stings a bit more when you spent the weekend surrounded by playful banter and pleasant company.

The silence is unbearable and you know that at moments like this there’s only one thing that can make you forget.

So, even if you have to go to work tomorrow, you get changed and head for the usual club.

“Thought you found a better spot” Laura greets you as you approach the bar.

“Work was crazy” is all you say. No one knows your name, or what you do for a living. You just get drinks and dance to loud music.

“The usual?” you nod, accepting the glass of scotch. You enjoy it slowly for a bit, watching as some people dance and party. The outfits and the music are different from your time in college; plus Darcy and you used to go to shitty bars.

Either way, what hasn’t changed is how drunk people act; messy, unaware. You love it. No one’s asking if you’re ok, or why you're there.

“I was gonna buy you a drink, but you’re not done with that one yet” a woman offers with a flirty smile.

You finish what’s left of the scotch in one swift motion, and wink at her.

“There”

“Are you that thirsty, huh?” she teases, and you laugh, sipping from the new glass. “I’m Eve. You?”

“I’m… really thankful for my drink, Eve” you say, because you’re never gonna share your name with anyone else. “Wanna dance?”

The woman rolls her eyes, but follows you to the dance floor. It’s the perfect place to get lost, and avoid any conversation. The music’s loud, there’s people everywhere and you can simply disappear when you’re done.

It’s what you do best, isn’t it?

As you go out for another drink, there’s an impulse to talk to Laura.

“That was the name of a friend”

“What?”

“Laura. Well, not my friend. My ex girlfriend’s friend”

That’s about everything they have in common. This woman is covered in tattoos and has dark hair, styled in a mullet. Very Joan Jett, which is every girl’s type.

But my type is Wanda.

“Is that why you drink until I have to call you a cab?” Laura says, and you nod, taking a shot of tequila and asking for another one.

“Yeah. Come on, just one more” you plea when she’s doubting about giving you a third one. You pout and Laura rolls her eyes. “Thank you. Ah, I love this song!”

You blow her a kiss, running back to the dance floor. Wait, no, you don’t even know this song but it’s cool anyway.

And then the next one is good enough, until you’re a bit too drunk and have no idea what’s playing.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

To your disappointment, it’s a man.

“I’m fine!”

“Yes, you are” he says, putting his arm around your waist.

“I’m gay, dude. Stop it!” you push him away.

“Come on, you just need a good di…”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, not when your fist crashes against his nose.

Stupid move, as he’s tumbling to the floor, creating a commotion. You can tell he’s pissed when he stands up, but he never even gets to yell at you, because someone is pulling you back until you’re out of sight.

“You really are trouble” Laura tsks and you try not to laugh.

“He was an asshole”

“Yeah, he is. If it were up to me he wouldn’t go in at all. I have to get back to the bar. Stay here, drink some water. Then I’ll call you a cab”

“I’m sorry” you say, reaching for her when she walks past you.

“That girl did a number on you, huh?”

“I only have myself to blame” you smile sadly. “Thanks for the help”

Following the woman’s advice, you walk around the room, drinking some water and breathing to gather yourself. You’re vaguely aware of the pain in your hand, and remember that it was stupid to risk yourself that way.

If you can’t operate, Melina’s kicking your ass.

After a while, Laura comes back.

“Car’s waiting”

“Thanks… I owe you...”

“A cup of coffee”

You’re about to protest when she rolls her eyes.

“Not as a date. You have too many issues for me to handle. But I’d rather we stop meeting like this, with you starting a bar fight”

“Yeah, that’s fair” you smile, looking back before leaving the room. “My name’s Y/N, by the way”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N”

—

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

That’s all you can think about as you get ready for a 24 hour shift, sporting a massive headache and hangover.

You’re leaning against the elevator when the doors open, and you speak without opening your eyes, handing the keys of the car to Yelena.

“You’re gonna have to drive me today”

“Yelena already left”

You look up a little too fast, eyes meeting Natasha’s.

“Ah, jeez” you complain, feeling your head pound with the sudden movement.

“Rough night?” she says with a mocking tone, but then pays attention to your bruised knuckles, taking your hand. “What the hell? Are you ok?”

“Dude thought he could touch me and get away with it. It’s fine” you promise, though she doesn’t let go of your hand.

“You know mom’s gonna freak out when she sees this?”

“Don’t be a snitch, Romanoff” you say, stepping out of the elevator. “What are you doing?”

“Get in my car” she says, rolling her eyes. “You’re in no condition to drive”

“This is nice” you look around the Mercedes-Benz, reaching to touch the controls in the dashboard. Natasha slaps your hand away.

“Nicer than the Corvette?”

“Nah, let’s not get crazy”

“Did you have a nice weekend with the family?” she asks, rolling into conversation naturally.

“Yeah, we went to see Wicked because Jenny wanted to, then to a Yankees game where I caught the ball, which is apparently a big deal”

“It is, congrats”

“They made me buy some clothes that are not scrubs or…”

“Mini skirts? Like the one you wore last night”

“How did you…”

“My penthouse is in the same building, remember? Same as Yelena’s. Mom was smart enough to get a house away from everyone”

“Right”

“Doesn’t Wanda mind?”

That shuts you up real fast. And honestly? You don’t feel like lying. But as you’re about to answer her, she stops in the parking lot.

“Sorry, it’s none of my business” she mistakes your silence with annoyance.

“No, that’s not it” you explain, but then your phone pings. It’s a message from Jenny, sending you the Instagram post she made for the weekend in New York.

J: You made it to the gram!

Youths. You don’t even have instagram but click the link nonetheless. Yeah, those are nice pictures.

“Oh, you two came together?” Melina greets when she meets you in the hallway.

“Y/N can explain why” Natasha smirks and you glare at her.

“I was just feeling tired after the family trip”

“Natalia, who will be your plus one to the gala?” Melina changes the subject abruptly.

“I’m not taking anyone”

You direct your attention back to your phone, knowing they’re about to argue.

As you swipe through the pictures, a name catches your eye.

w.maximoff

What?

Does Wanda follow your sister?

She saw the pictures and liked them? Even if you were in them?

Don’t be an idiot, don’t think this means anything, she hates you, she’s better off without you.

The sudden urge to throw up has nothing to do with your hangover. You look around the hallway, and feel the desire to turn around and beg her to take you back.

You miss her too much, you can’t do this without Wanda.

Who are you kidding?

“Take Y/N” you hear all of the sudden.

“What?”

“Take Y/N to the gala with you” Melina decides, making Natasha roll her eyes.

“She doesn’t want to…”

“Yes. I’ll go” you interrupt Natasha.

Anything, anything at all to stop thinking about the one person who made your life worth living.

“Then it’s settled” your boss nods, pleased.

“Excuse me” you walk away, hoping there’s a ton of work that can keep your mind off everything else.

There is, and you’re grateful for the distraction it provides.

“I’m exhausted. How are you managing with a hangover?” Yelena complains after a few hours.

“Get some rest,” you mutter, looking at the lab results. “The OR won’t be ready for another hour anyway”

Unfortunately, it gets very slow as the day progresses. Everyone in the hospital is focused on a kidney transplant that is happening next week.

You see a woman walk in with her son to the ER and approach them.

“Hello, I’m Doctor Y/L/N. How can I help you?”

“Hi, yes. My son fell and I’m not sure, I think he might have hurt his wrist”

You turn to look at the kid, who is probably ten or eleven, and he looks back at you scared.

“I understand. What’s your name?”

“Kyle”

“Hi, Kyle. I’m Y/L. Can I take a look at your wrist?”

It takes him a moment to nod, but once he does you take him to one of the hospital beds where he sits. As you put on a pair of gloves, he looks around, clearly nervous.

“Cool shirt” you make conversation, noticing his Yoshi shirt. “My favorite is Rainbow Road, but the best time I ever did was on Vanilla Lake”

“Really? My favorite is Koopa Troopa Beach”

“That’s a good one” you agree, applying pressure on his wrist. “Ok, I don’t think anything’s broken but we need an X-ray to confirm. I’ll walk you there, it will take a minute”

Thankfully, it’s just a sprain.

“You’ll just wear a brace for a week, I’m also sending some medication for pain. Now, you’re gonna have to hold up on playing Mario Kart for a bit, as the movement isn’t good for your hand. Take it easy and if there’s any more discomfort or pain, come back to the hospital”

“Thank you” the woman nods, relieved that it’s nothing major. You’re about to say goodbye when her son hugs you.

“Take care, kid”

As you watch them walk away, your mind goes back to Billy and Tommy.

You miss them so much.

“Everything ok?” Yelena asks when you leave in a rush, walking towards the stairs.

Instead of answering her, you go down the steps, until you push the emergency exit, breathing heavily.

Don’t cry at work, don’t cry at work.

It’s not working. You squeeze your eyes shot, pinching the bridge of your nose.

A sob leaves your lips the minute Yelena catches up with you.

“It’s ok. I’m here” she says, hugging you.

“I miss them”

“I know. I’m sorry” is all she says, allowing you to cry as you lean your head on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be…” you finally gather yourself, wiping away the tears. Your face is hot with the embarrassment of being so emotional in front of Yelena.

“I understand. There’s nothing to be sorry about. Come on, you should get some sleep. I’ll cover the ER for a bit”

“Ok” you nod. But she still follows you to the break room, and as you lay in bed, Yelena makes small talk, asking about your trip and telling you some funny things that used to happen to her and Natasha when their mother would leave them to roam the city while she had board meetings.

As she tells you about her favorite things from the Met, your eyes feel heavy and you fall asleep, exhausted.

The younger woman looks at you, feeling a bit guilty. She understands that everyone in this situation is an adult, and sometimes relationships don’t work.

But it’s still hard to see you so heartbroken and lonely.

“Hey” Natasha walks in the room, and Yelena shushes her, leaning her head towards you. “Is she ok?”

“I don’t know” the blonde admits, closing the door behind her.  “What’s up?”

“Mom told me you’re bringing a plus one to the gala! I thought we agreed no dates for this one”

“Oh, yeah…” Yelena blushes, and Natasha tilts her head.

“Who is it?”

“So, what are you doing? Should we find you a date?” Yelena rushes to change the subject, walking with her sister to the cafeteria.

“No, Y/N volunteered. Or, my mother kinda forced her to”

“Maybe it will be good to have a distraction. She’s having a rough time”

Natasha stays silent as they get some food. To be honest, she has been distant with you. It was hard to get close again after all the hard words you exchanged.

Natasha was just trying to protect herself.

“So you’re not gonna tell me who it is?” Natasha insists after a moment of silence. Yelena laughs, shaking her head.

“You’ll find out soon enough”

—

You open your eyes to the sound of your pager. The OR was busy for longer than anticipated and you’re about to go and check if everyone’s ready.

While you yawn, you dial Yelena’s number.

“Hello?” you hear Natasha’s voice.

“Why are you answering Yelena’s phone?” you say, doble checking that you indeed called her sister.

“Oh, crap. I took her phone by accident”

“Hey” you step out of the room, and find none other than Natasha, ready to leave for the day. “Guess your mother bought these phones in bulk”

You show her the mobile Melina gave you, though you insisted in keeping your number. It’s identical to Yelena’s and Natasha’s and every head of department has one as well.

“Heads up, she might be tracking your location”

“What? Can she do that?” you say, shaking the phone. Natasha smiles at that.

She forgets not everyone is expecting the worst from Melina.

“I better go and exchange phones with Yelena” the redhead says.

“Sure, can you tell her that the OR’s ready? Thanks”

You leave, but then Natasha’s voice stops you.

“Do you wanna do something tomorrow?”

There’s a hint of shock in your face, but you nod and smile.

“Yeah, sure. Wanna come over to watch a movie?”

“Sounds good” she agrees.

“Alright. See ya then” you wave goodbye.

Between this and the gala, Natasha doesn’t know if it’s a good idea to spend so much time together.

She’s about to find out.

—

Natasha is questioning her choices as she knocks on your door, thinking it might be unwise to spend alone time with you.

She had felt like you both got some closure after the emergency surgery on that woman. And then, one week later you had shown up at her hospital, as if you hadn’t refused the offer a number of times.

As if the thought of leaving your precious girlfriend behind wasn’t the craziest thing in the world.

“Hey, come on in” you greet, opening for her.

“Love what you’ve done with the place” she teases, watching as the only real decoration is a Polaroid picture of you and Yelena that is taped to the fridge.

“I’m happy this thing came with furniture or we’d be having dinner on the floor”

“Martha Stewart would be proud” she says and you roll your eyes.

“Come on, food will be ready in a bit” you say, asking her to open the bottle of wine.

“Where’d you get it from?”  she asks as she hands you a glass.

“Uh, the grocery store?” you look back from the stove.

“Wait, you’re making it? From scratch?” she puts her glass down, looking over your shoulder.

“Well, not from scratch, it’s not like I made the pasta”

“I thought you didn’t cook”

“I didn’t” you smile, offering her a taste of the sauce. “But I got used to the finer things in life, like a good old homemade meal, and had to figure out how to get something done”

“This is actually really good” she says, surprised.

“I will give you a pass because I am also surprised that my cooking’s not so bad”

It must have been because you used to watch Wanda cooking all the time.

Ah, shit.

Maybe eventually you’ll go a day without thinking about her. Or not, and that’s your karma for being an idiot.

Once everything’s ready, you pull out two plates, and serve the food.

“What do you wanna watch?”

“Not sure, could we eat first?”

“Why, want to check that I won’t give you food poisoning?” you joke, but Natasha doesn’t laugh. “Oh, come on! I’ve never gotten sick and it’s been a month!”

“Let’s just eat”

“Fine, are you sure you’re gonna be ok talking to me? You’ve been avoiding me since I arrived in Boston” you comment, though you can’t be mad at her.

It was easier to blame her for your screw up that own up to it. You’re not particularly proud of it.

“I wasn’t sure if your girlfriend would give you shit for talking to me”

“We’re not together anymore” you blurt out, making Natasha stop chewing.

“You’re shitting me”

“She broke up with me” you shrug your shoulders. “So I quit my job and ran away like the asshole I am”

There’s a beat of silence, and you keep eating. You’re not expecting anything from Natasha, like pity or words of comfort. It’s just the way things are.

“I had no idea… I’m sorry. I feel responsible”

“Nat, don’t. Honestly, you weren’t wrong. I am attracted to you, and I didn’t set boundaries. If anything, I’m sorry for being a jerk and ruining our friendship”

She keeps eating quietly, and you know that she accepted the apology without making a fuss about it.

“Crazy, stupid love” you mumble after a couple of minutes.

“Yeah, I guess it can be”

“No” you snort out a laugh. “I mean that’s the movie I wanna watch!”

“Oh, I don’t know it” Natasha rolls her eyes.

“Of course not, it’s not a Bond movie. Come on, now that you’ve seen my food won’t take you to the ER, let’s get everything ready” you say, picking up the dishes. Maybe you’ll make popcorn, even though you are full.

“Wait a minute” Natasha says, and when you turn around, she’s got you cornered against the kitchen counter.

“Huh?”

“You said you are attracted to me. Not were. So you still are” she smirks, eyeing you up and down.

“Well, yeah. Have you seen yourself?” you stutter. It’s not helping that you’ve gotten used to physical intimacy and you’ve been craving it for the past weeks.

But that makes you think of Wanda again.

“I just… you deserve more than being a rebound, Natasha. And I am serious when I say I’m not staying beyond my contract”

You know you can’t be someone who isn’t heartbroken and in love with Wanda. But you can at least be honest about it.

“I know. It’s just fun to watch you get all flustered” she says with a sultry voice.

“Not funny” you say, pushing her away.

“Let’s watch that silly, corny movie now” Natasha rolls her eyes.

“You’re gonna love it”

“Doubt it”

As you suspect, she’s critizing Cal at every possible turn, calling him a loser. She’s also constantly texting about the hospital in between complaints.

“Hey!” she protests when you snatch her phone.

“I know we’re both workaholics, but you’re missing the parts with Emma Stone which are arguably the best ones. And this big reveal will blow your mind”

So, you put both of your phones down in the coffee table and take it as a win when she’s laughing at some of the moments in the film.

“Hannah is Cal’s daughter?” Natasha screams when you get to that scene.

“See?”

“Damn!”

“Bathroom break” you announce a while later, leaving the movie playing as you know the dialogues.

Natasha is actually interested in the movie when her phone rings and she picks up without looking away from the screen.

“Hello?”

She’s met with silence, which makes her actually pay attention to whoever called her.

Shit.

Wanda.

She took your phone.

But before she can explain or tell the other woman to wait, the call disconnects.

“What’s wrong?” you say when you return, sitting next to Natasha. “I know it’s sad, but I promise it has a happy ending”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry”

“Nat, you’re scaring me”

“I thought it was my phone, I picked it up. Wanda called you” Natasha says, handing over the phone to you.

“Oh” you tilt your head, shocked. “What did she say?”

“Nothing. She hung up. I’m so sorry”

“Well, maybe she just wanted me to get my stuff. That’s the only reason she’d call me, honestly” you say, returning to the movie.

“Why aren’t you freaking out?” Natasha insists.

“I don’t know” you confess. Maybe you’re in shock. It feels surreal to have Wanda call you, after everything she said to you.

You left your old phone at Darcy’s house before jumping on a plane. You only got your old number back after Melina gave you one of those fancy phones.

Now you wonder if she ever tried to call you.

“I should go”

“And leave me to drown in obsessive thoughts?” you say dramatically. “Look, what’s the harm here? That she’ll think the worst of me, and then what? We broke up. She kicked me out, I’m gone like Wanda asked me to. I’ll just text Pietro and ask if the kids are ok”

That was your real concern. You had a feeling that it could be a mistake or something very serious. And you’d always put your pride aside for the sake of the kids.

“We’re watching a horror movie now” Natasha snatches the remote as soon as the credits roll, looking for Insidious. “That will distract you for sure”

—

“You’re evil” you say when Natasha walks out, laughing.

“And you’re a baby”

“There was a demon! Sewing while that creepy song played. You’re sick, Romanoff”

“Sweet dreams, Y/N” she says, whistling the song as she closes the door.

Now you won’t be able to sleep.

But there’s also another thing in the back of your mind.

Pietro hasn’t answered which can mean that it Wanda's call was a mistake and he’s choosing to ignore you.

Or something so monumentally horrible happened that he doesn’t even have his phone on him.

“Fuck it” you say, trying to control your breathing as you dial back.

You begin to feel like an idiot, especially when it’s pretty obvious Wanda won’t pick up the phone.

Hands squeeze the device as you deal with the disappointment. You are about to hang up when you hear it.

Wanda, saying your name.

And for a moment, you feel like everything’s ok again.

[lincolndjarin]

Not So Secret Santa

javier peña x fem!reader

this is a part of the @pedrostories gift exchange!!

summary : you get the only person you didn't want for your offices secret santa.

warnings/tags : 18+ mdni, enemies/friends to lovers, canon divergence, steve is your boss/close friend, reader and javier have a complicated relationship, reader is insecure, brief mentions of alcohol, porn with plot, smut, light angst, javier and reader fight physically but it's very light with no actual injury, masturbation, semi-public sex, p in v, idk how to properly tag this but javi likes boobs in this so he touches boobs, unprotected sex (don't do this, wrap it this holiday season), use of a makeshift gag, rough yet very loving sex because it's christmas and christmas magic means i can write what i want.

tldr : you and javi have sex in his office and you put his tie in his mouth to shut him up.

word count : 4.4k

✦ : merry christmas @taro-666 !!! i'm your secret santa !!! i hope you're well this holiday season and i hope you enjoy this fic !! i haven't written much peña, despite how much i love him so i hope i did him justice and i hope you have a wonderful holiday <3 <3 (also sorry this is a little late (20 minuetes left before midnight so we're good). i was out with family all day and was only just now able to get to my laptop, i promise i didn't forget about you lmao)

no use of y/n, reader has hair and painted nails & javier sort of half picks her up at one point, nothing else is described besides clothing.

lovely dividers by @saradika-graphics

“Please, Steve, I’ll give you a week's pay.” You lean across his desk, genuine desperation in your voice after an hour of begging. 

“Not gonna happen.” He doesn’t even bother looking up from his computer.

“A month.” Your voice is starting to pitch up, something similar to anguish in your tone. Your offer finally gets a reaction out of him as his eyes widen, head tilting up.  

“Jesus, you can’t be serious.” He’s examining your expression, trying to determine the sincerity of your claim. 

“My entire Christmas bonus.” 

“Okay, stop.” He sighs, giving you a sympathetic look. “We’re not allowed to switch.”

“When did you become such a stickler for the rules?” You cross your arms in front of your chest. 

“It’s just a secret Santa. He’s our friend, whether you like it or not, you two are close and this shouldn’t be this big of a deal, now go, please, I need to finish up here so I can leave at a reasonable hour.” He loosens his tie as you sigh. 

“It’s not just a secret Santa, Steve. It’s an opportunity for him to tell me that I once again didn’t do something right. No matter what I get him, it isn’t going to be good enough.” Even as you’re saying it you can see that he isn’t going to change his mind about this. 

“He’s a dick to everybody. That’s inevitable, it just means he’s comfortable with you.” He’s already turning back to his work. 

“Please, Steve.” 

“No.”

You glare down at him, giving him your angriest look as his gaze tilts back up to meet yours. 

When it’s clear that he isn’t going to switch you turn and leave, slamming his office door in the process. 

“Don’t forget, I need you here early to help set up for the party!” His muffled voice seeps out into the hall as you walk away. 

Once you’re out in your car and far away from prying eyes you unfold the damned slip of paper you’d drawn earlier today. 

Javier P. 

Of course, you got stuck with fucking Peña, a nickname you’d given him a few months ago. He absolutely hates it but the entire time you’ve worked for the DEA he’s gone out of his way to bother you. Sure, he’s your “friend”, in a strange, complicated way. But he still drives you up the wall with his constant need to one up you and the way he’s constantly making passes at women around the office. 

And it’s not like you have any problems with him sleeping around, lord knows you’ve had a fair amount of one night stands, but he just has to hit on every woman you work with. 

Every single woman, except you. 

You’d never admit it of course but a part of you will always be self conscious about that fact. It doesn’t help that Javier absolutely adores bothering you at every possible moment. He loves nothing more than to pester, annoy, and mock you, spending nearly half his day leaning over your desk despite the million complaints you’ve sent Steve about his persistent partner. 

He’ll sit on your desk, doing an endless amount of things to cause you distress. Like crowding you with his cigarette smell and vanilla cologne as he tells you you’re filling papers wrong, or telling you what colors to paint your nails, or solving your cases before you can even get to them, or teasing you about your shitty car. Today he wouldn’t stop bothering you about your weekend plans like he doesn’t already know exactly where you’ll be. 

“Are you doing anything this weekend?” He’d asked with that devastating smirk and eyebrow raise combo. 

“I have to go buy my secret Santa gift, just like everyone else.” You’d turned away, avoiding eye contact as he scoffed. 

“What about Saturday?” He continued to pry, you wanted nothing more than to shove his perfect ass off your desk. 

“The Christmas party, Javi. Just like everyone else.” You had sighed, squeezing the bridge of your nose as Emilia had walked past your desk. Javier immediately forgot your entire conversation as he turned to her. 

“I love your nails.” He’d pushed his hair out of his face, holding his hand out to take hers, getting a closer look at the well manicured designs. 

You had tuned out after that. Not wanting to be involved in the exchange as you went back to typing. Acutely aware of your own nails. 

Red chipped paint. 

You couldn’t help but wonder what it must be like to be the object of his affection.

It wouldn’t matter if he did hit on you, you would probably reject him anyway. 

Probably. 

It doesn’t matter, it’s never gonna happen so why let it bother you? 

With a sigh you toss the paper into your cup holder, reaching to turn on the radio, maybe some Christmas music will make you feel better. Of course nothing happens as you turn up the volume knob but it makes you want to scream regardless. 

Stupid fucking Peña. 

Stupid broken radio, stupid shitty car. 

“Fuck.” You mumble under your breath as you shift into drive.

Before you know it you’re back in your car in the DEA office parking lot, this time a few things are different though. 

You’re dressed nicer, trading your slacks in for a skirt and your dress shirt for a sweater. And of course you now have a small wrapped box in your lap. 

Since you had yesterday off for the holiday you spent your Friday at the mall, searching for a gift for Javier. Eventually you had settled on three little things; Nicotine gum, mostly because you’ll get more work done if he isn’t constantly dragging you outside for his smoke breaks. He complains too much about going alone and it’s always been easier not to argue, now he can stay at your desk with his gum. Beard oil, the fancy stuff he always insists on using in his mustache. You’d bought him the wrong kind last year for his birthday and you still haven’t heard the end of it. And a lighter, you had to beg the shop owner to make an exception and do a same day engraving of his birthday. 

Jesus. 

You know way too much about him. 

You arrived two hours early as requested by Steve to help him set up. With the wrapped box tucked under your arm you anxiously tap the patterned wrapping paper with your freshly manicured nails. 

“You should paint your nails green, I love green.” He had said through a drag of his cigarette. 

Why did you let that idiot's opinions influence this decision? You feel foolish. The green chrome polish shimmering in the street lights in the parking lot as you step into the building. You had extra time while you were waiting for the engraving and you just couldn’t help yourself when the salon was just a few stores away. The image of Javier holding your hand and examining your painted nails while telling you how nice they looked was just too tempting. Maybe he’d even ask if you did it just for him, and you could drag him into a closet at the party, the exact situation you watched unfold last year. Except in that scenario you weren’t the lucky lady he’d run off with that night. 

There’s no time to be thinking like that.

You shake off whatever filth you were imagining as you look around the hectic mess of garland and glitter.

Steve is already stressing, setting up tables as you set your gift under the tree before getting to work. The office is already mostly decorated but with his new position as supervisor Steve is insistent that everything be perfect his first Christmas in charge. So you plate food, and you mix drinks exactly as he wants them, and you hold the ladder steady when he insists on putting more lights up. When you’ve got about a half an hour before guests start arriving you’re finishing up and last minute touches, the two of you crowded around a drink tower. 

The tension from your conversation yesterday seems to have fizzled out as you become engrossed in your work, when you’ve both finished he gives you an appreciative look.

“Thank you, seriously, it means a lot.” You help him adjust his tie as he straightens out his shirt. 

“Anytime, although I’m surprised you didn’t just ask Javier.” You pat his shoulder as you finish, brushing a stray blonde hair out of his eyes. 

He laughs, a nervous chuckle that makes you raise an eyebrow but when you open your mouth to comment on it he lets out a relieved sigh as the first of your coworkers arrive.

More people show up than you could have expected. 

You stay near Steve for most of the beginning until he gets dragged away by one of the higher ups who had made an appearance, leaving you alone to sip your drink against the back wall. You hum along to a Christmas song that plays loud enough to drown out any conversation you might eavesdrop on to entertain yourself in his absence, your eyes scan the crowds as you try to match up the people you work with with their spouses. 

You’re getting ready to find another group to talk to when you catch a glimpse of him standing against the opposite wall, talking to Bonnie, the woman who works in the cubicle next to yours. 

Fucking Peña. Dressed in a stupidly tight green dress shirt. 

You should leave them alone, especially if he’s trying to make a move on her. But you can’t help it as you make your way around the room towards them, a vague sense of jealousy settling in your stomach. 

String lights twinkle across the ceiling of the office, creating a warm ambience throughout the space, just as you’re about to tap him on the shoulder you overhear their conversation. 

“I had to beg Steve to switch with me, took an hour of convincing and a week's paycheck but it’ll be worth it to see the look on her face.” His back is to you as he leans in closer to Bonnie. 

He’s probably talking about one of the other women from the office. Steve probably had someone Javier was trying to impress and that’s why Steve didn’t want to trade with you, he had already promised his pick to Javier. 

Whatever, you can’t be too bothered about that. It does make you want to return to your spot on the other side of the room but you don’t get the chance to as the music is turned down rather suddenly.

One of the secretaries, Benjamin, stands on a chair, making an announcement that it’s time to do the secret Santa. You manage to twist through the crowds so Javier never sees you, finding his gift and bringing it to where he now stands, simultaneously keeping an eye out for your own gift.  

You hand him the box, watching the way his face lights up. 

“You picked me?” He grins as you nod, carefully peeling back the wrapping paper as you feel a tap on your shoulder. Benjamin waits behind you, leaning in to whisper while you watch Javier open his gift. 

“It was short notice so we didn’t have time to get you a back up gift but your secret Santa told us at the last minute that he forgot to get you something, he promised to bring in something after New Years, I’m so sorry.” You feel a little disappointed as he murmurs but it isn’t that big of a deal, it’s a busy time of year and people can forget things. 

“No worries, do you know who it was? I’d like to at least tell them it’s fine.” You turn away from Javier as he smiles at the nicotine gum, Benjamin's eyes flicker from your face to Javier’s before he gives you a sympathetic look, walking away. 

Javier traded for your name? 

As your head tilts to look at him now you can see the smirk he’s now sporting. 

“ …but it’ll be worth it to see the look on her face.”

Javier had made a conscious effort to get your name just so he could not get you something.

Huh.

That doesn’t feel great. The look he gets to see on your face is betrayal and then just sadness. You don’t really care what the reason for his decision is, you turn and walk away from him regardless. If he tries to say something to you it’s drowned out by the music that starts once again. 

Why are you so upset over some stupid joke? If it had been anyone else you wouldn’t have cared, you’d have brushed it off as a harmless accident but this wasn’t an accident. 

Maybe he didn’t really think of you as a friend. 

Maybe all of the teasing and one-upmanship really was from a place of animosity and you were just too blind and too infatuated to see it. You want to cry but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction so you sift through the bowl of keys, searching for the Star Wars keychain attached to your lanyard but you can’t find it. The combination of the blaring Christmas songs with the frustration you’re currently feeling only makes you more emotional.  

You don’t want to go to the bathrooms where you might run into someone and you can’t go to Steve’s office because he might be talking to his supervisor, so you go to the only place you know there won’t be people. 

Javier’s office. 

You walk as quickly as you can, slipping inside as you slam the door shut behind you, clicking the lock in place before turning around, resting against the door as you feel tears spilling from your eyes. It isn’t until he clears his throat that your head snaps up.

Today is just not your day.

Did he know you’d come here? How the hell did he beat you here? He’s fidgeting with the lighter you bought him, watching it light and go out as he sits with your keys in his other hand. 

Your face feels hot as you take in the sight of him. 

“Give me my keys.” You hold your hand out, wiping your eyes with the other as you wait. Of course he doesn’t hand them over, that would be too easy and today is insisting on being difficult. 

“I really liked your gift. Seriously, this is… outrageously thoughtful.” He murmurs, seemingly unaware of your mood until he takes a closer look at you, his expression shifting as he realizes your eyes are rimmed with red. “Why are you so upset? What happened?” He slides open a drawer, tossing your keys into his desk while you consider calling a cab. 

What a foolish question. 

How could he possibly not know?

“I want to leave, I’m sick of this party.” You turn to leave, maybe Steve can drive you home. 

“Come on, the parties barely started.” He’s on his feet, he doesn’t try to corner you, if anything he sets himself against the wall. 

“And I want to leave.” When you reach for the doorknob he grabs your wrist, holding it as he stares at you, a look of impatience crosses his face. 

“Don’t tell me you’re mad about the secret Santa.” His brows furrow. 

“This isn’t about a stupid secret Santa.”

“It sure seems like it is.” He’s still holding your wrist, why is he still holding your wrist?  

This isn’t about the secret Santa. It’s a lot more than that, and after ages of keeping your thoughts to yourself in front of him you just let it out. 

“This is about the fact that you don’t even care about me enough to make any sort of effort. I know you deliberately chose me, you specifically chose to do this to me and I don’t care that it’s just a stupid prank. It still- It’s still a shitty thing to do.” Your voice starts cracking half way through and you can feel your eyes welling up again but it doesn’t matter anymore, you were wrong, the two of you aren’t friends. 

“So this is about the secret Santa.” 

Of course he wouldn’t get it. 

“You’re an idiot.” You finally pull your wrist from him. 

You aren’t sure what else to do so you shove him, his back hitting the wall with a soft thud as you push past him to get to his desk, hoping to grab your keys but he catches your waist first. 

“Can you stop being so stubborn for five seconds and just let me explain myself?” You can tell his patience is wearing thin, his voice is strained as he pulls you back against him, caging you against his chest with his arms. 

“Fuck Javi- let me go-” You try to kick his knees but he anticipates it, shifting his legs to avoid you.

“Just wait- listen to me.” He swings you around a bit as he tries to still you, you can feel his breath hitching, the buttons of his shirt digging into your back. The two of you thrash around for another moment until you freeze, feeling something poking your hip. When he realizes why you stopped putting up a fight he lets you go in an instant. “Shit- I-I’m sorry.” He stammers as you turn around towards him, eyes wide. 

You never thought you’d see Javier Peña flustered yet here he is. When you take a step back his cheeks are burning red, his fingers twitch nervously at his side, and as much as you try to ignore it, his pants are tighter than usual. (And considering how tight they usually are this is quite a feat.) He won’t look you in the eye. 

“It- It’s fine, Javi.” You adjust the hem of your skirt, trying to fix your hair. You just can’t catch a break today. “It was an accident, there was a lot of- of friction and it happens. I think I should just go.” You stutter a bit trying to find the right words. This entire evening has been catastrophic, and you’re more than ready to call it a night. 

“It’s not an accident.” He mumbles, finally looking at you, not bothering with subtlety as he adjusts himself. “You should probably go.” 

If it’s not an accident you don’t want to go. 

You want to stay and keep making accidents, starting with rushing forward into him, taking his face in your hands and kissing him. Which is exactly what you do. At first he doesn’t react and you worry you read the situation wrong but when you pull away, just an inch, his hands envelop you. 

Hips, waist, back, shoulders, hair. He’s everywhere, all consuming as his teeth graze your lips, in an instant your backside hits his desk.

When he finally does remove his lips from yours his are slick and a tiny bit swollen, his pupils swallow his irises whole. 

“I loved your gift, I wasn’t joking, it’s perfect and the last thing I want is for you to think that I don’t care about you. Of course we’re friends, you-” As he rambles on you ball up the end of his tie, unceremoniously shoving it between his teeth. 

“Talk later, this now.” You grab the bottom of your sweater, pulling it up over your head, watching his jaw tense at the sight of your chest, his hands playing with the strap of your bra as you hop up onto his desk. Hiking your skirt up, he slots himself between your legs, your own fingers push your panties to the side as he reaches behind you, easily twisting the clasp of your bra to release it, tossing it to the side as his enormous palms engulf your breasts. 

You dip your fingers into the wetness between your legs, briefly taking a moment to wonder how you found yourself here. Just moments ago you were ready to leave and consider your friendship with Javier over, yet now you’re spread out on his desk, on display for him as you sink your fingers into your eager cunt. 

You don’t get to linger on the thought for long because he groans into the fabric of his tie and you’re pulled back into the moment. 

Jesus you’re soaked. 

You have no trouble pushing two slick digits into yourself. You can feel the outline of him against your thigh and you know that you need to warm yourself up to take him. He’s too engrossed in your tits to do it right now and you’ve waited too long for this, you don’t want to wait, you just want to have him. 

He’s tender at first, squeezing and softly tracing the outline of your areola until he seemingly can’t control himself any longer and he pinches, rolling your nipples between his thumb and pointer finger as your whine. Back arching of the oak of his desk as you curl your own fingers. Even through the tie his moans are still somehow louder than yours, you’re briefly worried about someone hearing as you let out a whimper while he tweaks your nipple but the music’s so loud at the party you can hear Mariah Carey from here. 

You don’t stop for a second, putting your focus on reaching the peak that you find yourself already getting startlingly close to. You can feel yourself pulsing as you pick up the pace, reveling in the way his eyes devour the very sight of you. You’re agonizingly close when he grabs your wrist, removing your fingers carefully as you try and resist, wanting to finish what you started, you’re about to whine when he begins unzipping his pants. You can feel your pussy clenching at the very sight of him, of course he isn’t wearing any underwear under his dress pants so the second his zipper is fully down his cock springs free.

Javier fucking Peña has a gorgeous cock. 

Standing stiff and proud without either one of you even having to touch it. Pretty and pink on the tip, already leaking down the shaft. And heavy, as he takes it in his hand, his other hand gripping your waist as lines himself at your entrance. He takes a moment, eyes scanning your face, silently asking for permission. 

You can’t nod fast enough but the second that you do he slides into you. 

You could never conjure up something this good in your fantasies. The way he fills you, stretching you open as he whimpers into the fabric of his tie, you like that he listened, that he kept it in his mouth this long. His strokes are needy and fast, like he’s been waiting for this for so long and now he can’t help but be ravenous. You were already painfully close before he filled you with his perfect cock, it takes only a few minutes for you to be right back there. His fingers dig into your waist so hard that you’re certain he’ll leave marks as he slams in and out of you, pulling out almost entirely with every thrust. 

You’re vaguely aware of the sound of his trinkets rolling off his desk and onto the floor. 

“Javi, Javi, Javi.” Between gasps you chant his name, the sound encouraging him as he pushes in deep, his pelvis grinding against your clit until you see stars. Your cunt clenching around him as your orgasm is ripped out of you. Messy and loud and blurry, he fucks you through it. You’re so blissed out you can barely focus on the persistent pounding into you until you manage to come back to your senses and his hands leave your waist, instead intertwining with your fingers as his hips twitch forward and you feel him hastily pull out of you.

He spits his tie out, opting to instead bite your shoulder as he comes, the groan that leaves his throat is obscene. Raspy and filthy as he collapses down on top of you, the two of you sweating and gasping amongst the paperwork and pens now scattered across his desk. 

Did that really just happen?

He manages to collect himself first, leaning back and tucking himself into his pants before quickly tending to you. He grabs a few tissues, wiping your stomach where the product of your activities lay, before redressing you, slipping the flats that had slipped off, back onto your feet, pulling your skirt back down to cover you as he slides your panties back into place, and retrieving your bra and sweater, lifting you into a sitting position as he redresses you, kissing your cheeks, nose, and forehead the entire time. 

“All good?” He whispers, gentler than you’ve ever heard him as you nod, grinning. 

“Good enough to make me forgive you for not getting me a present.” You reach into his drawer, grabbing your keys before sliding off of his desk. 

“Maybe this was your present.” He tilts his head, kissing you again, smiling all the while. 

“That was the perfect gift then.” Probably the best you’ve ever gotten.

“Are you gonna stay for the rest of the party?” He takes your hands in his, his thumbs absentmindedly rubbing circles into your skin. 

“I think I need to go to bed after that.” You laugh as you jingle your keys, turning towards the door as he catches your lips in another kiss. 

It makes your heart flutter. The continued affection makes you think this isn’t a one time thing. You want more. You want conversations about feelings, and to talk about what just happened, you want to feel him inside you again, and the look in his eyes tells you that you’re going to get all of that. But right now you’re tired, so the rest can wait. 

“Can I walk you to your car?” You nod as he murmurs.

He doesn’t let go of your hand, walking you out of the building towards your car, opening the door for you and giving you one last kiss with a promise that he’d call you tomorrow, before you watched him walk back into the building.

Your phone buzzes as you turn your key in the ignition, the sound of Wham! fills the car, Last Christmas playing softly. You take your phone out of your pocket, checking the text notification from Javier. 

[ i forgot to tell you how pretty your nails are. merry christmas hermosa ]

Your head turns up in surprise as you realize your radio is working. A new radio system is installed in the center of your dashboard, with a little green bow taped to the top, and a paper tag with Javi’s familiar messy handwriting. 

from : your secret fucking santa

a/n : happy holidays everyone!!

[usomads]

hey this might be too smutty but can you write a oneshot of a wwe employee who has a secret crush on roman reigns. She has to go roman's locker room, she gets so caught up in admiring roman's handsomeness and aura that roman was preparing to masturbate (which she ends watching). Roman didn't notice she was in his room.

Red-Handed // Roman Reigns x Reader

Request #1: “Can you write a Dom/Sub oneshot of Roman and his lover. Roman is punishing his lover by not having sex with her but he does torture by masturbating in front of her”

Request #2: “Hey this might be too smutty but can you write a oneshot of a wwe employee who has a secret crush on Roman Reigns. She has to go to Roman’s locker room, she gets so caught up in admiring Roman’s handsomeness and aura that Roman was preparing to masturbate (which she ends watching). Roman didn’t notice she was in his room.”

Author’s Note -> Hello! I hope you don’t mind but I combined your request with another one I got because they’re so similar, then added some of my own flair lol. Also… too smutty? On THIS blog? Neverrrrr 🙂‍↕lmaooooo anyways here’s your request, I hope you enjoy and as always– happy reading! (we’re gonna just ignore that it took me a week to write this bc I got too dickstracted writing this scene lol)

Pairings -> Roman Reigns x Fem!Reader

Warnings -> Cursing, Masturbation (Male!Fem!), Daddy Kink, Spanking, Hand Worship, Hickies, Bruises, Unprotected P in V, Creampie, Not Proofread, MDNI

Word Count -> 2.8k

“Hey, Y/N! Can you come here for a sec?” Your mentor, Jamie Noble, beckoned you over to him. You had only been employed as an assistant producer backstage at WWE for a couple months, being primarily assigned to shadow Jamie– aka, one of the main producers of the Bloodline segments. Because of this, you spent countless hours every week either attending in-person or virtual meetings with him, Bobby Roode, Paul Heyman, and the focal point of the Bloodline storyline, Roman Reigns, as you collectively planned out segments for upcoming shows. It was during these meetings you found yourself growing an attraction to the man they called the Tribal Chief, often getting lost in your own thoughts watching him as he gave his inputs, his words leaving his mouth smooth as velvet– the natural timbre of his voice low enough to vibrate you to the very core. You knew he knew it too, a deep smirk painting across his face as either Jamie or Bobby would have to snap you out of your trance you were in. It was pathetic how captivated you could become over a man’s voice, or the furrow of his brows when he was deep in thought, or the way a singular vein would grow prominent along his neck when he spoke in a passionate monologue about the story, or how the t-shirts and sweats he wore to meetings would define his features and cling to his body just right– snap out of it, Y/N.

“Yes, Mr. Noble?” You shake the thoughts out of your brain, focusing your attention on your boss.

“Y/N, for the last time, please call me Jamie. You’re making me feel ancient,” he laughs for a moment then regains his focus. “Anyways, I need you to stop by Roman’s locker room. We had to make a couple changes to the promo tonight, he’s already greenlighted them in case some segments run over… we’re about 10 minutes behind right now so we’re gonna have to adjust.” You swallow hard, nerves hitting you like a freight train as you listen to his orders. “Don’t look so nervous, Y/N, you’ll be fine. You need to get used to being alone with him, because one day I won’t be here anymore and…”

“I know, please, don’t remind me,” you laughed nervously, “I’ll let him know.” Jamie thanks you silently before turning his attention elsewhere as you stand in place for a moment, truly weighing your options. Don’t be stupid, Y/N. All you have to do is just let him know we’re short on time and that’s it. Nothing more. Relax. You shake your head to remove yourself from your own thoughts and let out a shaky breath before turning around and walking slowly down the hallway backstage. Your legs felt heavy as you willed yourself down the hall, occasionally stopping to say ‘hi’ to someone you recognized before reaching the door of Roman’s locker room. Nervously, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as your knuckles rapped on the wooden door in front of you– trying hard to not knock loudly. Surprisingly, no one answered. Maybe I wasn’t loud enough? You tried again, slightly louder this time as you knocked on the door. Again, nothing. Is he even in there? Maybe the third time’s the charm. Once more, you knocked on the door in front of you and were met with silence. That’s odd. But maybe he’s got headphones in and just can’t hear me. Do I–? Do I crack the door open to see? No, that’s too much. What if he– no, we don’t have much time, Y/N. Just open the fuckin’ door. Hesitantly, your fingers wrap around the cool metal of the doorknob and twist the handle– cracking the door open and using the small space to peek inside. Oh. My. God.

Roman was definitely inside, but you were not at all prepared for what you were currently seeing. The big mirror along the wall left nothing to the imagination as you watched him– his eyes shut and head thrown back as beads of sweat and water dripped down his torso, your eyes following as they trailed lower, watching as his right hand skillfully stroked his cock. Breathy groans fell from his lips as he pleasured himself, and you found yourself unable to look away. You shamelessly had imagined him like this, daydreamed about how beautiful he’d look consumed in his own pleasure, and found your own arousal making itself known as you watched. Unconsciously, your hand gravitated to and began rubbing your core as you bit the inside of your lip– making sure you wouldn’t be heard. You felt dirty watching him perform this very private act, but no matter how badly your mind tried to tell you this was wrong your eyes were trained on the man in front of you, stuck in place and unable to look away.

“It’s rude to stare, you know.” Shit. You quickly snapped out of your trance and moved behind the wall, embarrassment flooding over you as you pressed your lips together– holding your breath. 

“I already saw you, Y/N,” Roman chuckled as you squeezed your eyes shut. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “Come in.” Your breath hitched in your throat, somehow more nerves rising to the surface. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, love. Come sit. I promise you, I’m not upset.” His tone softened and you released the breath you were holding, feeling unsure of your own foundation as you cracked the door open and snuck inside, shutting it behind you. You couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes so you settled for your shoes, focusing your complete attention on them as you walked into his dressing room and sat in a chair across from him.

“I– I just was coming to tell you that we have to s–switch to the other p–promo tonight… we’re behind schedule by about 10 minutes so…”

“That’s fine, now will you look at me?” You didn’t move, your gaze still trained to your shoes as a flush of red came across your cheeks, and tears brimmed your eyes.

“Y/N, look at me.” His tone, sharper this time– more demanding, forced your eyes to snap up to his. His gaze softened slightly as he saw yours, the look of guilt evident across your face.

“I– I’m so sorry, I–” your eyes widened as you unintentionally shifted your focus down his body– he’s still pleasuring himself. “Oh my god, um, I– I’ll just come back later,” You covered your eyes with your hand, gasping when you felt a larger, rougher hand wrap around your wrist and bring your hand back down to your side. Roman’s hand. 

“Don’t act so shy now, princess, clearly you didn’t have a problem watching me through the mirror a few minutes ago, hmm?” You tried hard, to no avail, to look anywhere but at the hand that was wrapped around his cock.

“I–,”

“You what? You’re sorry?” You nodded slowly, heat rising to your cheeks. “I don’t believe you, Y/N.” 

A wave of confusion crosses your face as you lock eyes with him, trying to ignore the way they were glazed over or how his brows furrowed trying to stifle his sounds of pleasure. He chuckled lowly at you, his eyes hooded and trained on you.

“I don’t believe you one bit, princess. I see the way you look at me. In meetings, Zoom calls, here backstage… I bet you’ve fantasized all about this, haven’t you?” You tried to speak but were immediately cut off. “Oh, and how could I forget? I saw you too.” You gasped softly, making him chuckle again. “Yeah, baby girl, don’t act so innocent. I saw that hand,” he motioned to the hand he had just placed at your side, “rubbing that pretty pussy of yours while you watched me… dirty, dirty girl. You could’ve gotten caught, you know…” Your body stiffened as you listened.

“So, you wanna try telling me you’re sorry, again?” Your lips pressed together as you looked at your lap, embarrassment growing by the second as he was calling you out like this. “That’s what I thought,” he said, a smirk present in his tone.

“Please.. I– I can’t lose this job. A–and..”

“Oh, sweetheart, I won’t tell if you don’t.” You look back up at him, a mixture of relief and shock in your eyes. “But, I don’t think you should get off that easily either…” Your chest sank, worry creeping back in at his words as he leaned back against the couch– still stroking himself. You watched him once more, no longer hiding your want for him, but he notices right away. “You want this, don’t you, Y/N?” You bite your lip in response, head nodding slightly as you continued to watch his hand. “Use your words, princess.”

“Y–yes…”

“As much as I’d love to give it to you,” he pauses, slowing his strokes, “I’m not sure you deserve it yet… but maybe I could be convinced.” He smirks, his eyes lowering at you– waiting for your next move.

“R–Roman–,”

“Please, Y/N, call me Joe.”

“O–okay… Joe…” you swallow the lump in your throat, your voice shaking as you speak. “W–what do you w–want me to do?” 

“Oh, don’t worry, I have plenty of ideas. Come here.” Hesitantly, you rise to your feet and stand between his legs, staring down at him. “Strip f’me, baby girl. Lemme see you.” You nod obediently as your fingers find the hem of your shirt, pulling the material over your head then finding the button of your jeans, Joe taking the lead and pulling the denim off your legs as you step out of them and push them to the side. 

“Goddamn, Y/N, you been hidin’ all this from me?” Another blush comes across your cheeks, your arms instinctively coming up to cover your chest but Joe grabs your wrists and stops you. “Uh, uh, none of that. Now, get over here.” He pulls you by your wrists and pushes you down onto his lap, ass in the air as his large fingers trace down your spine, giving you chills.

“You’re gonna count until I tell you to stop… stop counting or mess up and we start all over, understand me?”

“Y-yes sir..” you mutter under your breath.

“Speak up, princess.” He demanded sharply, his nails digging into your ass cheek– making you wince.

“I understand,” you say louder this time as the man nods in satisfaction. Without warning, the palm of his hand connects with your ass cheek. You cry out, in a mixture of pain and pleasure, but somehow are able to whimper, “One.” Smack. A little harder this time, but you’re able to keep up with the count. Smack. Smack. Smack. By count 5 you feel nothing but pure pleasure with each spanking his hand delivers. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. By count 10 your ass is beat red, hand-shaped welts matching Joe’s identically form on the surface of the sensitive skin. Smack. Smack. By count 12 the pool of wetness that was contained by the fabric of your panties had now completely soaked through, leaving a puddle of your juices on Joe’s thigh. 

Smack. Smack. Smack. “You love this shit, don’t you pretty girl?” Your ass had become numb at this point, tears pricking your eyes as you cried sounds of pleasure and whimpers of his name– never losing count. The hand that punished you was now caressing the welted skin, brushes of his rough palm making you wince as he soothed the area. Joe stops his movements to bring your body back up, wincing as your ass brushed the fabric of the couch. 

“Look at my hand, ma. Look what you did.” He shows you his palm, which was equally as red as your bare ass. You weren’t sure what came over you, whether it was the heat of the moment or a secret fantasy but you found yourself reaching for his hand. His brows furrowed at your action, almost caught off guard but relaxed the moment you pressed your lips to the redness of his palm. You peppered kisses all across the palm, soothing it with your lips before giving the area small kitten licks with your tongue, further alleviating the redness– no, worshipping the hand that punished you. He watched in awe as your lips found the length of his fingers, kissing each digit before taking his index and middle fingers in your mouth, sucking gently around them as you stared into his eyes.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groans, his eyes fluttering closed at the sensation, “Think you deserve a reward, baby. Did so good f’me… you want that?” You remove his fingers from your mouth with a pop, looking into his eyes from your kneeled position. 

“Please, daddy.” His eyes lit up at this new pet name, something within him igniting and driving him to practically pounce on you– pushing you down onto the couch as he climbs on top of you.

“Say that shit again.” His voice is low and demanding, rich with desire as he smirks down at you– oh, he liked that. A lot. 

“Fuck me, daddy. Please.” You whine, biting your lip at him as he devours you with his eyes. His tip teases your entrance for a moment before fully entering you, giving you no warning and zero time to adjust before driving into you relentlessly. He uses his hands to grab the back of your thighs and throws your legs over his shoulders, fully stretching you– imposing his will on your body and making you his personal plaything. Joe leans down to your neck and begins sucking on the skin, bruises rising to the surface to match the ones created under his fingertips on your hip bones. You knew you would never be able to hide them, especially after this, but you felt too damn good to give a fuck about a hickey or two– or ten. 

Your moans and cries reverberated off the walls with a resounding echo, joining the sounds of your skin colliding and heavy breathing and filling the room. Your nails claw long scratches into the man’s back, the pain only further pushing him to fuck you harder. 

“Fuck, baby, so fuckin’ tight. Imma have to wear this pussy out more often, aren’t I? Yeah, you’d fuckin’ love that shit, huh? Tell Daddy how much you love his fuckin’ cock.”

“Mmm, I– I love it, daddy. Y– you fuck me s– so good…” You whimper, feeling the beginning of your climax start to form in your lower stomach. 

“Shittt, you gonna cum for daddy like a good girl?” Your walls flutter around his length at his words, making him chuckle. “Yeah, you like it when I call you my good girl?” You moan in response, your eyes squeezing shut as you feel your orgasm approaching.

“D– daddy I– I’m gonna… gonna cum…”

“Give it to me, princess. Been such a good girl for Daddy… mmm fuck, show me how good Daddy makes you feel. Cum f’me, baby.” Your pussy squeezes his cock before he can finish, your orgasm ripping through you as you arch off the couch and fully release on his cock. Your body violently shakes as the overwhelming pleasure completely consumes you and, for a moment, you’re seeing stars. Joe fucks you through your orgasm, his following shortly after as he paints your walls with his cum and fills your swollen pussy completely. For a moment you two remain there, trying to come down from your highs as you catch your breath. It’s silent between you for a couple minutes, until Joe breaks it.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

“What, to fuck my brains out?” You laugh, causing a smile to come across his face.

“No, well yes, but not just that… I mean even just laying here with you. You weren’t the only one who felt something, you know.” “Oh.. why didn’t you say something then?”

“You seemed really closed off, like I wanted to ask you out bu–”

“Hey, Joe!” The two of you hear Jamie's muffled voice as he knocks on the wooden door across the room from you. “I’m coming in, we’ve got our segment in 10 minutes!” Shit.

“Fuck, he can’t see you in here. Hold on,” Joe pulls out of you, making you wince, and brings you to your feet. “Here,” he ushers you into a closet, gathering as much of your clothing as he can and hiding it before shutting the door, although the room was still visible from the crack in the closet door. You watch quietly as Jamie and Joe discuss the upcoming segment, Joe seemingly being able to play it off like nothing happened.

“Oh, what’re these?” You hear Jamie interrupt, picking something up off the floor. “Looks like you and Ms. Y/N got quite a bit of ‘work’ done, huh?” He’s smirking teasingly at Joe while he holds something in his hand. You try to make out the item through the crack in the closet door, when it finally hits you– your black lace panties. Shit.

[4ranghaes]

Can you continiue your woonhak scenario from your bnd when they’re jealous?? Like what would it be like in the dorms and what would rest of the boys say??

kim woonhak x reader [fluff, fem!reader, reader’s a high school student]

a/n - yes!!! omg this is such a cute idea thank you anonie :))) i do have a fic pretty similar to this but i’ve tried to change it up a bit

part 1

17:52 - “guys! we’re home!” jaehyun yelled into the dorm, woonhak’s arm still linked with yours behind the pair in front of you.

sungho rolled his eyes, “yeah, idiot, we can hear the do—”

“and woonagi’s girlfriend is here!” he finished, the three men in the living room all staring at each other in shock, leaning to get a look at the front door.

riwoo and jaehyun had taken off their shoes, smiling evilly at the members further in the dorm. you stayed in the entrance way, giving an apologetic smile to woonhak.

“i’m sorry for anything they say, or do—” he started, grabbing your arm before you could walk away.

you smiled, cupping his face, “it’s fine, woonie! really, i don’t mind. i’m excited to meet them.”

he rolled his eyes, grumbling as he let you go, “i’m not.”

“hi,” you said shyly, introducing yourself to the members politely, woonhak appearing behind you and placing a protective hand on your back. your school uniform still covered your body, your bag slung over one shoulder.

“nice to meet you, nice to meet you, come on, we’re going to my room,” woonhak said, hurriedly as he took your bag, pulling you along.

“wait a minute!” leehan exclaimed, “do we not get to introduce ourselves?”

“no,” riwoo said, shaking his head definitely, “woonhak made that very clear.”

you giggled slightly, looking apologetically at woonhak, who pouted.

“no, g–go ahead,” he sighed, waving a hand dismissively.

“what? what?!” sungho laughed, “tell us!”

“because this is my girlfriend!” jaehyun yelled, impersonating woonhak’s whining from the walk home, bursting out into laughter afterwards as your boyfriend sighed next to you.

“he said that?!” taesan laughed, “ya! woonhak-ah, don’t worry, we won’t try and steal your girl!”

“he hasn’t even let her come to the dorms!” riwoo said quickly, looking at woonhak’s pissed off expression.

“yeah! i didn’t! and she is my girlfriend! and you two said that if i brought her here i could have all the time in the world!” he exclaimed in the classic woonagi whining voice, wrapping an arm around your body and bringing you close, “she knows all your names, she’s a big fan! and you know her name, boom, done! now we’re going into my room!”

he grabbed your wrist, storming off to his bedroom and dragging you with him as you waved goodbye to the members quickly.

“ya! door open at least 3 inches!” sungho exclaimed, woonhak grumbling in return, slamming the door to prove a point.

“ya,” you laughed, running a hand through your boyfriend’s hair as he sat on the bed, standing in between his legs, “they’re winding you up on purpose, you know that right?”

he pouted, rolling his eyes, “i know.” his hands were wrapped loosely around your legs, elbows resting on his thighs as he shrugged, trying to remain cool. “i just don’t like them teasing me, especially about you.”

you smiled, leaning down and kissing the top of his head as he grinned, leaning his head up and encouraging you to lean back down and press a kiss to his lips.

“ya! kim woonhak!” taesan yelled, stood in the doorway.

“hyung!” woonhak whined, throwing a pillow at the door, taesan deflecting the hit. “get out!”

“i just wanted to say we’re making dinner for 7,” he said, an evil grin on his face as he closed the door slowly, “woonhak was making out with his girlfriend!”

[mmkclarkey]

We have a spare room - Part 2

When everything goes wrong, moving in with three guys will help?

~a week later~

You were staring at the empty room in front of you, well, empty besides the littered boxes around, when a bang came from just outside quickly followed by a soft knock on the door.

You giggled to yourself as you muttered a “come in” completely unaware of what was about to occur.

“Do you think aliens are real?” Arthur asks you, making you furrow your brows in confusion.

“Leave her alone Arthur! She’s unpacking I’m sure the last thing she wants is to get involved in our debates” Another voice came from the hall, a voice you didn’t recognise straight away as another man walks in to your room, Chris and George following close behind, giggling to each other. The man was around the same height as Arthur with slightly messy hair and a light stubble almost the same as Chris’ but a similar brown to Arthur’s. Something about his demeanour changed, almost like he realised what he had done and quickly broke out in a small smile, reaching his hand out for you to shake it. You accept it, noting how he shook it very excitedly.

“Hi, I’m Arthur” he says in a happy tone, making you smile before having a realisation.

“That’s not confusing at all” you speak before Arthur (your roommate) explains that he’s Arthur Hill, a YouTuber and singer, whereas the other man, sporting a -whales of the ocean t-shirt- was the “autistic best friend who grew up with Chris then stole everyone’s hearts” and that his name was ArthurTv.

This explanation makes you giggle, ArthurTv smacking the other round the back of the head.

“Stop introducing me to people as the autistic Arthur!” He exclaims, voice breaking slightly making everyone else in the room laugh.

The boys quickly filter out of your room, leaving you to unpack your things, cursing that you didn’t ask them to stay and help.

You begin to unpack furniture, using the rest of your free day with no filming to do to build your bed and shelves, trying your best to replicate your old room so that it wouldn’t look too obvious to people that you’ve yet again had to move from a place you moved into not even two months ago.

~

It takes you longer than expected to build the bed. Admittedly it was because you kept taking dance breaks in between while your music is blasting, most of said dance breaks were to Red Wine Supernova by Chappell Roan, the song being repeated at least 7 times before you were done, making a two hour job into four, taking a break before building your shelves. You lay back on your bed, taking deep breaths due to the exhaustion you felt from building, before suddenly Chris’ voice rang through the doorway, travelling from the living room.

“Are you coming through to eat? We’re gonna order something in?”

You contemplate this before walking out of your room, turning the corner into the living room, immediately confused and shocked as Arthur Hill, Chris, ArthurTv and yet another man you didn’t know were sprawled out on the floor in a pile, the one you don’t know looking up at you from the floor, reaching his hand up as much as he could to shake it.

“I’m Isaac, friends call me Bach though” the man says in a strained tone, most likely from the other three men lay on his back. You notice his full beard and mullet, nearly black as you shake his hand.

You look to the sofa and notice George sat scrolling through his phone, laughing at something funny he’s seen, on the other side, is a girl, around 5’1 sat laughing at the pile of testosterone on the floor. She looks up at you smiling, standing up to give you a warm hug. You immediately noticed that the girl radiated the golden light that came through the window, showing off natural beauty as you smiled back.

“I’m Liv, I’m Isaac’s girlfriend… sadly, I’ve heard so much about you from these three, it’ll feel good to have another girl around finally!” She smiles at you as she holds your shoulders.

You giggle a bit in response, telling her your name “Hi Liv, it’s so lovely to meet you, what is going on down there?” You point down at the pile of men on the floor, a furrowed brow on your face as George pipes in from beside you when you sit down.

“It started as Bach saying that he’s stronger than Chris, then TV stuck up for Bach, then Hill stood up for Chris and then they just kind of… did this.” He says, not looking up from his phone for a second before looking up at you, as was nearly lay down on the sofa at this point.

“What do you want for food?”

“Hmmmm…” You contemplate in your mind what you’d want, deep in thought about it for some reason before you snap out of it, not realising that the group of men on the floor are now off of each other and sat on the floor separately, shouting what they want to eat, not one agreeing.

“Everyone shut the fuck up! She’s deciding.” Liv shouts, all of them immediately going silent, clearly showing that although she was Bach’s girlfriend, was also very clearly the one who kept them all in line.

You send her a smile before laughing, blurting out “let’s get Chinese”, Chris cheering at you agreeing on his choice, you pull a dirty look at him jokingly “it wasn’t for you Chris, i just really want a chow mein”

Your answer makes the room erupt in ooo’s and “you got burned” as George looks at you with a smile.

“Good choice, maybe living with you won’t be too bad, but for the love of everything, stop blasting Chappell Roan”

“Never, live with it or kick me out” you cross your arms as you lean back, he stays silent as he looks at you for a second. “That’s what I thought, you’re gonna love me one day George, trust me I’m a great flat mate”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n- hey guys, just warning you, it won’t be posts everyday but i wanted to give you guys something else (either that or stop myself from going insane from not being able to post) I hope you enjoy this one, i swear we’ll get an actual plot line soon, I just want to build relationships before I make it too fun

Tag list (let me know if you want to join): @authortelevision @onlinesuzie @pretendyoucantseeme @44-ilton @chilwellsancho

[kiss-me-muchoo]

#𝟏 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 || 𝐏𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐨 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐏𝐚𝐮𝐥 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐥

summary_ in which you have a serious relationship with Paul but you start falling for his dad; Pedro… all because it seemed like your boyfriend was in love with his best friend.

warnings_ AU, CRINGE, no proofread, self indulgent, age gap (not specified but reader is early-mid twenties), implied ora; + unprotected sex (be smart irl), cheating, drama, angst, fluff, DELUSION, did i say cringe already?

note_ sure what the hell, I ♡ being so naca, this Rosie album coded, toxic till the end, number one girl and gameboy !!!!!!!

♪ ♫ Pedro playlist

♫ ♪ Paul playlist

✰ Index (+ fics here)

𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸

Monotony embraced your life very well. You avoided getting out of your comfort zone and it wasn’t as bad as every therapist likes to point out. Once you were looking out for CDs because vinyls were lovely but too expensive. A random guy reached out and asked if you liked Mitski, you said you were aware of her good music but you were no fan. You thought he would go away after that, but he continued asking what other music you enjoyed. Which led to exchanging numbers, realizing you were mostly opposites but handled a strong tension together.

Paul was a calm and gentle boyfriend, he always came up with the best dates. Going to concerts, secluded bars, underground restaurants, and occasional museum trips. For some time, you had to take planes to visit him. Until university gave you enough peace to allow yourself some freedom.

Now one month into the relationship, you were starting to feel more secure about your feelings for the man in front of you.

“You’ve been staring for too long,” Paul said chuckling, soon returning to smoke a cigarette.

“You want some?”

“I can’t smoke, I’m asthmatic. I like the smell though” you replied rejecting his offer.

“You like the smell of cigarettes?”

“Yeah, they remind me of Las Vegas” he chuckled once again.

Both of you were having drinks in Soho. It was a Friday night and you were extremely close to finishing another fall semester of university.

“Look, they are starting to hang all the Christmas decorations” you point out, watching how a bartender stepped on some creaky stairs to hang ornaments and fake pine leaves.

“I want you to meet my dad,” Paul says.

“What?” your eyes look at him expectantly and shocked.

Wasn’t it a little too fast? But… Did that mean that he was actually trying to make you see that it was serious? That he… loved you?

“Are you sure?” You ask, shyly crossing your arms, pretending to be paying attention to the music playing loudly.

“Of course, I know we’re still new but you’ve already talked with him and I find it… correct?” your cheeks warm up.

All the times his father called, you ended up talking with the old man. Pedro was 49 years old, funny, handsome, adorable, and your boyfriend’s father. He was single since the Irish mother of Paul decided to leave when he was a teenager.

“I’d like that very much. Pedrito is so lovely, so yes, sign me up, honey” he smiles, leaning to give you a kiss.

“I say we arrange it for the holidays” you nod, smiling.

The cold air from outside enters from the wide windows decorating the bar and it makes you shiver.

“Do you want to have dinner here or outside?” you ask Paul.

He shrugs but soon looks outside, wondering.

“Outside. Any options?”

“You know I love sushi”

“Marigold loves sushi too. We always used to go to this place it’s a couple of blocks from here. We could go now…”

There it was.

“Sure, let’s go…” you say, standing up and grabbing your coat and bag. Paul places the tip for the waitress on the table and both of you exit the bar.

Marigold. Cute flower, very similar to daisies. Delicate, sweet, and resourceful. Only that your Marigold was your boyfriend’s best friend, no actual flower. And she was indeed delicate, sweet and resourceful, very pretty, and your biggest insecurity. Nobody was pointing at you with a gun to stay in a relationship where you felt unsure, but you liked to believe you had to be mature. If you decided to bring up the subject, the age gap between you and Paul would be highlighted, leaving you like a crier and immature woman.

Despite the growing aches, you decided to try it with him, thinking it was worth it.

…

The beautiful warm sun of California had something that made you happy despite the dry weather at the beginning of the winter. Paul and you had arrived in Los Angeles to finally meet with his dad. It had been a great time to talk about nonsense and have fun, get to know each other better, and realize how compatible you two were though so different at the same time.

You constantly tapped your index finger against your bag as you waited for Pedro to arrive at the airport.

“Why are you so nervous?” Paul asks before sipping at his boiling tea from a cafeteria.

“Can you tell?” He nods at your question and both share a little smile.

“I don’t know, I usually get nervous when I have to meet new people”

“Dad’s not a stranger. You end up talking with him more than me”

The statement makes you blush.

“You’re perfect, y/n” he kissed your forehead and it made you feel better.

Paul had acquired a liking to hold your hip whenever you two had to walk somewhere. This is why he did exactly that when his phone buzzed, his dad letting him know he had arrived.

Your heart pounded as you two got closer to the exit, but as soon as you saw the tall man leaning against his black car, with a yellow Lakers t-shirt, random jeans, and white sneakers, you felt comfortable. He saw you first and looked adorably happy, he went straight to hug you, which made you feel even more confident and welcome.

“Oh my god, you’re even more lovely in person!” Pedro said, making you chuckle.

“Nice to meet you” You were right about every assumption you made about your boyfriend’s dad. He was sweet, a gentleman, and extremely fucking hot.

“Don’t act like we’re strangers, I think I’ve talked more to you than with my son” Both of you chuckle and you turn to eye Paul, who playfully rolls his eyes before giving a hug to his dad.

“Yeah, you make me lose all of her attention whenever you’re on the phone” Paul adds jokingly, although you realize it wasn’t a complete joke.

“Your old man is very funny, honey” Pedro laughs at your comment as you and Paul exchange silly smiles.

At that moment you had to retrieve any kind of thought because you would end up spilling the three most dangerous words.

I • love • you

You knew it wasn’t time to tell those things to Paul. You wanted to wait.

And when you eyed his dad, you had him already looking at you.

The way he sends a very tiny smirk makes you nervous and sets an odd pooling sensation in your lower stomach.

Welcome to California, bitch. You have a boyfriend you love but can’t tell him yet because he hasn’t said it as well. And his hot dad was there sending you a playful smirk that could be a risk.

…

Christmas is around the corner but it’s a dry warm day when Pedro says his neighbor is throwing a little gathering and he wants to meet Paul. You had no problem and you agreed to accompany them.

Things felt right.

You let out a moan as you feel the waves of an orgasm hitting you, making your legs open wider than ever.

“That was… perfect,” you say between breaths, looking at how your boyfriend popped his head up from under your skirt.

“It’s always a pleasure to eat you out” You cringe at his words and it’s involuntary when you start laughing.

“Gosh, don’t say it like that, Paul” he also laughs, you know he said it like that to bother you but still.

“Are we taking a shower or not?”

“Yes, but let's be a little quick because I need to help your dad with the pie I promised…” Once Pedro learned you liked a cheesecake pie, he wouldn’t shut up and beg you to do one.

“Good because I’m waiting for a call from Marigold,” Paul says entering the bathroom, shirtless and with his hair all messy.

“What for?” You ask with genuine curiosity, a little too much.

“Just ‘cause” you don’t like the tone he used, nor the silly little smile he had as soon as the subject was his best friend.

…

A grill was on, the music was loud enough to make you raise your voice while talking and overall you were having a great time.

Pedro’s neighbors were the sweetest, a Cuban marriage that welcomed you as soon as Paul and his dad presented you to them.

“This food is amazing,” you say pointing at the Cuban torta the hosts made for you.

“It is…” Paul says with his mouth full and you have to let out a laugh while cleaning his upper lip with your napkin.

He smiles at the gesture and both of you lean at the same time to have a quick but soft kiss.

“I lo- I’ll look up if there’s flan left”

You stand up quickly and leave towards the food table making a mess. For the second time, you were about to tell Paul you love him.

Your hands try to fit a big portion of flan into a little plate but a hand on your lower back startles you.

“Are you doing alright, sweetheart?” Pedro asks and it has you blushing because he had to lean and talk in your ear to be loud enough. You can smell his perfume of sandalwood, rum, and neroli. His hands were never cold, unlike Paul’s.

“I’m loving it. The food is perfect, Pedro. Thanks for taking me here…” you admit shyly.

“It’s nothing, baby” you almost scream at the nickname.

“Pedro! Tráete a esa linda muchacha a bailar si tu hijo no la saca!” The Cuban woman tells the old man and you understand everything she said. You are about to retrieve but Pedro grabs you by the waist and drags you near the couple.

“Oh no, Pedro, I don’t dance…”

There’s a song playing in Spanish and more people are already dancing. You turn to look at Paul who was already eyeing you and started laughing, cheering to see you dance with his dad. It’s subtle the way Pedro starts holding you, soon he grabs both of your hands and has you twirling around and giggling. Hidden somewhere you had the moves, easily you reciprocate and let yourself lose it a little.

“You move really well, sweetheart,” Pedro says smirking and it has you gasping in subtle shock.

“Yeah?” Out of nowhere, you are able to gain a straight answer with a naughty tone that makes his smirk disappear, only to appear again seconds later. His brown eyes lock with yours and suddenly you remember you have a boyfriend.

At the same time, a gorgeous older blonde woman comes and Pedro greets her, breaking that little spell you and him had going on.

“Vane! You look lovely!” He says hugging her.

Both start talking and you know it’s your queue to leave, so you excuse yourself, feeling an odd sensation in your chest. It couldn’t be jealousy. You had a boyfriend waiting for you at a nearby table and was the son of the man that you feeling weird things.

Quickly that’s forgotten when Paul waits for you with open arms and you take the courage to sit in his lap since everyone is too busy at the party to pay attention.

“You really have the moves, baby,” he says making you smile, locking your arms around him.

“Hmm, pretty sure you know them too well” Your comment has you blushing and fuels your ego as much as you want to deny it.

“I might need another demonstration” he adds with a deep voice that has you drenching your panties in a flash. You kiss him and as soon as you touch his lips, it’s messy, sloppy, and has you on fire.

Paul must feel the same because his hands caress your hips and pull you even closer, which makes you want to straddle him but you won’t since you’re still a the party. It ends up with your tongues fighting for control and you have to cut out a moan.

Then his phone beeps.

“Wait-“

You sigh, pulling away. He holds the phone and then looks up at you.

“It’s Marigold, she’s asking if she can call me”

“Go ahead, I think I’ll leave now”

“Sure?” Paul asks you.

“Yes, dear. I’ll meet you back at your dad’s home” he nods.

As you walk away, you can’t ignore the anxiety building up in your chest.

…

The next morning, you are having breakfast with Paul and Pedro when he receives another call from Marigold. Paul literally bolts away, looking so excited as soon as he answers.

“He always does that thing?”

“What thing?” you softly ask, chewing at the steak with eggs.

“Getting so excited over a phone call?” Pedro asks with a grin.

“Just for Marigold” you spit out with bitterness. You look at him with wide eyes, realizing you sounded so jealous and even rude.

“I’m sorry…” Pedro smiles briefly, already understanding everything.

“Have you talked about it with him?” You shake your head, looking at Paul, who couldn’t stop smiling while talking and looking down.

“No, of course not. I’m afraid it’ll make me look immature” you shyly answer.

“Sweet girl, I love my son but you have to talk to him. Communication is key to making it work out” You nod at him. Pedro senses your sad smile and gently touches your hand.

“Both of us will figure it out. My boy is god and he wouldn’t hurt you. Anyways… you two have plans for tonight?” You shrug.

“Paul said he wanted to take me to Glendale. To the mall and see that Barnes and Noble of three floors” you confess laughing. Even Pedro knew how much you loved going to libraries to find new books and magazines.

“That sounds nice”

“And you? Any dates?” Pedro chuckles, drinking from his extremely black coffee.

“No, no, dear. I’m staying home tonight” you nod, understanding him.

…

You had already paid for three books, Paul got you coffee and both of you were seated on the floor reading a magazine of haunted places. Barnes and Noble were full of ornaments, a giant Christmas tree, and soft music playing on the first floor that could be faintly heard from the third.

“Native American folklore can be scary. It’s very interesting…” you say after reading about an old myth many tribes used to believe in before colonization.

“I’m trying to think about the most famous ghost from Ireland…” Paul says and it makes you laugh.

“You have to take me to a haunted house. It would be an odd but amazing date” you say.

Paul nods smiling, his blue eyes are so pretty that you could stay looking at them for hours.

“You got lost in my eyes, baby?” He sounds cocky, flirty and you love it.

“How couldn’t? You are so fucking handsome”

“And what about you? Pretty hot I’d say…”

You’re so in love, you want to scream it. You look at Paul again, his beard and mustache made him look so damn well, slightly older but perfect.

Maybe it was the perfect time to say it.

His fucking phone beeps again and the moment is ruined.

“No way… Marigold is here with his boyfriend!” Paul announces.

“Oh?”

“They want me to help them with a little improvised photography session”

“Like right now?” You ask, crossing your arms and showing your discomfort.

“It would be very fast. You can come with me or wait here”

You laugh.

“Are you being serious?” Paul stops texting and looks at you, noticing that you aren’t comfortable.

“Would it be that bad?” You roll your eyes, anger building up.

“Paul, I’ll be very straight to the point. I don’t like how often you come with something related to Marigold”

“She’s my best friend, y/n”

“Oh I’m fucking aware of that,” you say standing up from the floor.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Paul asks sounding very accusatory. You chuckle with disappointment, grabbing the bag of your purchases.

“Ever since our very first date you had to mention her. Marigold likes this, Marigold doesn’t like that. It’s everything I do you have to compare me with her!”

“Keep your voice down,” he says whispering, acknowledging you both were in a library. You sigh, looking down at your pointed boots.

“I would never compare you with her, y/n. I know we are a new thing but you’re being so insecure…” you gasp at his words.

“Is it, Paul? Or when are you going to admit that you are in love with a woman who doesn’t love you back?” He bit his lip and looked away, clearly annoyed.

“I’m going…” Paul said firmly and it broke your heart.

“What a shame. All this weekend I’ve been trying to restrict myself from screaming how much I’m in love with you. Doesn’t matter anymore…” you say before leaving. You hear Paul calling you but you don’t come back, you leave the library and start walking through the crowded streets.

Midway and you couldn’t hold the tears anymore. You question if Paul ever felt attracted to you. Or if he agreed to go out on that first date just because. You know Marigold loves him too, but just as a friend. What made Paul fall in love with her so hard? Sex, things in common, or pure connection? You’d probably never know, but you wouldn’t stay to try to find out.

You arrive at Pedro’s house made a mess of tears.

“Woah, What happened, doll?” Pedro asked, leaving the table he was sitting on to go with you.

“Your son is an asshole” you reply quickly trying to brush past him but he wrapped his arms around and you gave up.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re safe here…”

“I can’t stay, Pedro…”

“What happened?” He pleads.

“Just take me to a hotel. I don’t mind paying a lot, just take me, please…” he nods, grabbing your hand and going straight to the kitchen, to make you a hot tea before packing your things.

…

Pedro takes you to a small, cozy, and secluded hotel near Pasadena. The trip was quiet and he stood by your side until you had a room secured.

You never smoked, but that night you wanted to feel something, so you asked Pedro for a cigarette and you almost finished it on the balcony of your room.

“I don’t want you to go…” you admit, throwing the cigarette he gave you and stepping on it.

“I won’t go…” Pedro said, leaning on the railing of the balcony.

“You were great. I love your place and I feel at home. But…” you sigh, throwing your hands in the air in desperation.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked and you slowly nodded.

“There’s not much to talk about. I am crazy about your son. Millions of girls would die to have a boyfriend like him. He’s almost perfect. But… It’s so obvious he loves Marigold. And as long he feels that way about her… he won’t last in any relationship I’m afraid”

“That’s what I told him. And when he came with the news of you. I thought that Marigold thing was gone. Guess not…” you nod at him.

You and Pedro exchange looks.

“Thank you for everything, Pedro. You’ve been so good…” you want to run your fingers through his hair and caress him in your arms.

It’s so wrong to have that type of thinking given that you probably just finished a relationship with his son.

“You’re a good girl, you deserve it all”

The proximity was dangerous, one little movement and you could end up kissing him.

“Why do I feel this way?” You ask whispering. Pedro looks down at your lips and it’s over.

“How?” He asks.

“Like I want you to kiss me so hard”

He did it. Pedro kissed you and it took you by surprise but soon you reciprocated. His lips were softer, warm, and sweet. The old man had the touch.

“Tell me to stop”

“But I don’t want you to…” you answer, leaving a trail of kisses near his jaw and his neck, he gasps softly, closing his eyes.

“Please…” you bed, caged between his broad chest and the railing of the balcony.

“I’ll treat you right, sweetheart…”

He placed you on the bed and you were already gone. His weight on top of you felt right. Your first reward was your hand trailing the length of his tent. He had a pair of dark grey joggers and he looked extremely hot.

“That’s a good girl…” he literally moaned while caressing your hips. You slipped your hands underneath his pants and he slid your panties to the side soon. And for some time, you were near tears because of his tip, constantly dragging across your wet folds.

Thankfully this time weren’t tears of sadness and pain. They were tears of pleasure.

…

Darkness remains across the room when you open your eyes. You feel light as a feather. But soon guilt starts flowing. Even worse when Pedro’s arms feel so nice around you. Protectively holding you against his chest. You can feel his peaceful heartbeats and it melts yours. But that isn’t what woke you up.

It’s the cold air entering from the open slide door. The curtains flow and there's barely any type of illumination with the help of the moon.

Carefully you are able to leave the bed without waking up the old man sleeping. You slip into Pedro’s big purple Lakers tee and finally walk to close the door. The streets are empty and only a few crickets can be heard in the distance.

Then you hear your phone vibrating.

It’s 2:41 am. You have eight phone calls missing and three unread messages from Paul. The messages are being sent right at that moment.

→ I know I fucked it up. Please tell me where you are, y/n.

→ I’m truly sorry.

→ I love you. And I mean it.

You sigh, closing your eyes in an attempt to wash away the guilt. But then you turn to look at Pedro who peacefully rested. You remembered every single date with Paul and how the name of Marigold had to come along ever since the first one. Then the guilt dissipated. But it didn’t disappear.

__________________________________

Taglist: @izzy02soph @gisellec1 @princezzleia @angelbunny222 @loveryoushouldcomeoverr @hc-geralt-23

[moonstruckme]

I love your headcanons of Tasm!Peter x chubby reader on a fall day, and I was wondering if you’d consider doing something similar but during winter/Christmas? I understand if not, because the headcannons were part of a follower celebration! Or maybe a fic with Peter and reader at a Christmas market? Sending you air kisses! 💋

Thanks for requesting lovely! I didn't really find ways to make this explicitly chubby reader but as always you're welcome to imagine her with any body type you like. Air kisses back! <3

cw: reader has hair long enough to put up/pull back

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 665 words

Peter finds himself obsessed with your ears. You’ve forgone a hat and your hair is up, but you seem overall less concerned with the crisp wind than Peter is. Every time you stop in a stall, his hands come up over your ears, trying to coax warmth into them. You’re more or less ignoring him. 

“We should get you some earmuffs,” Peter says while you peruse a vendor’s selection of ornaments. 

“Why, when I have you?” 

“Rude.” He pinches the top of your ear. “I’m good for more than that.” 

You step to the side, and Peter follows dutifully, not making his point very well. 

“You’re the one who wants to do this,” you argue good naturedly. “My ears are fine. Also, we’re supposed to be finding things for other people, not ourselves.” 

Peter lifts one hand away from your ear, blowing hot air into his cupped hand. You jump and squeal, ticklish, apologizing hastily to the vendor when she looks your way. 

“Stop that,” you hiss at Peter, face still warm with the echo of your smile. When you take his hands and use them to pull him closer Peter doesn’t resist, his arms draping over your shoulders and his front against your back. 

He kisses your cheek complaisantly. “If I bought them for you they wouldn’t be for myself.” 

“Peter. Focus.” You hold up a small ornament. “Do you think your aunt would like this? She really likes elephants, right?” 

“She does,” Peter allows, “but she’s got, like, ten jillion elephant ornaments already.” 

You frown. “Do you think that means she might want more?” 

He weighs this. “Maybe. Her tree’s gonna collapse, though.” 

“This one’s light. It won’t be our fault.” You hold onto the ornament. Peter grins and smushes his lips to your face again. You squeeze his hands, turning your face like you’re going to kiss him but stopping when something catches your eye. “Oh.” Your voice bends with adoration. “Look at this.” 

You reach out to pull an ornament off the wall. It’s a small wooden bird, intricate, with strings attached to its wings and belly. Its body has been painted with tiny, meticulous brushstrokes to give it feathers of various colors. You pull gently on the string, and its wings move up and down. 

“That is cool,” Peter says. 

You’re charmed, eyes soft and happy. It’s the way you look out the window when it’s snowing or at dogs walking past you on the street. “It’s so lovely.” 

Peter has the urge to kiss you silly. “It is.” 

“Do we know anyone that would want this?” 

“You, obviously.” 

You give Peter a sideways smile paired with a playful glare. “Anyone else.” 

He hugs you close, mouth pulling to one side as he thinks. “I don’t think so, sweetheart. I mean, it’s really cool, but I don’t know anyone who would like it as much as you.” 

You pull the string again, watching the wooden bird’s wings flap ruefully. Peter knows you’ll never get it for yourself. 

“Hey,” he says, “let’s go get some shitty hot chocolate. I’m freezing.” 

Your smile renews. “You are not.” 

“Fine, you got me. I want to get you a hot chocolate because I’m worried your face is gonna freeze. Please?” 

“Okay.” You return the ornament to its hook, dotting a kiss on Peter’s cheek and gathering up the ones you’ve already decided to get. “Let me just buy these and we can go.” 

You know your boyfriend well enough to be suspicious of him. You keep a close eye on Peter as you pay for your gifts, chatting with the vendor and beaming when she gives you a little pouch with a ribbon for each one. He smiles guilelessly and lets you take him by the hand to pull him with you out of the stall. 

Fortunately, Peter is quicker than you give him credit for. His cash is on the counter and your ornament safely in his pocket before you turn the corner.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Accident II

Pernille Harder x Child!Reader

Fridolina Rolfö + Ingrid Engen x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Potty training at Wolfsburg

“This,” Moster Frido says to you,” Is a potty.”

You blink at her, sitting on the floor of the Wolfsburg break room. You go back to playing with your toys.

“Hey! This is important!” Frido says, trying to draw your attention back but you keep ignoring her.

“She’s not stupid,” Pernille laughs from the sofa,” She knows what the potty is. She has one at home.”

“Well, now she’s got one here too.” She whistles like you’re a dog but you still don’t give her the time of day, instead standing up and wandering over to where Ingrid is on the phone with her mother.

You pull on her shorts and she hefts you up onto her hip without question.

“I thought you were trying to potty train her,” Frido complains,” You can’t do it just at home, you know.”

Pernille rolls her eyes. “One step at a time, Frido. It might freak her out a little to do it here. We’re taking it at her pace.”

Frido huffs but drops her questioning as you play with the ends of Ingrid’s hair. Your girl-swan hangs in your other hand and you swing it around as Ingrid talks.

Your potty training has been slow going. Sometimes you just refuse to cooperate even when Pernille swaps your nappies for pullups. You just don’t want to use the potty sometimes.

But she can see you start wriggling in Ingrid’s arms and she knows if you were standing then you’d be doing your potty dance. She sighs, standing up and grabbing the potty Frido had bought for you.

“Princesse,” She calls and you turn your head to look at her (much to Frido’s annoyance),” Do you need to use the potty?”

You think for a moment. “No, Momma.”

“I think you do.”

“No.”

Pernille sighs and Ingrid instantly offers you to her. You whine when you’re transferred to Pernille, reaching to grab onto Ingrid, who you know won’t force you to use the potty.

You don’t like using the potty at training. You don’t know why but you just don’t. You don’t really like using it at home either but Momma told you all big girls use the potty and you really want to be a big girl in time for Morsa's next visit even though you’re still little and everyone is taller than you.

“Yes.”

Momma takes you into the toilets and sets your potty down in there. You feel better now that you don't have to go potty in front of moster Frido and Ingrid. Thinking about going potty in front of them makes you shy and makes your tummy go all wavy.

You don’t like the potty much at all but you like it better when there’s no one but Momma helping you go.

You still don’t like it though.

It becomes a bit of a joke around the Wolfsburg girls in the following weeks. Your refusal to use the potty unless Pernille makes you is a bit funny.

Whenever she asks, you gain the biggest pout and you whine and try to fight it until she plucks you from where you’re sitting and takes you to the toilets. She tries to set you on a proper toilet a few times but you’re still very little and you cry because it feels like you’re about to fall in.

Momma never tries that again.

But she does keep insisting on the potty whenever she can. Sometimes you can get away with it but as soon as she notices your potty dance, it’s straight to the potty with little fanfare.

You think you can get away with it today.

Momma’s in interviews all day so you’re sitting in the break room with Frido and Ingrid. Ingrid’s nice, you decide. She’s not Swedish like your moster and Morsa and she’s not Danish like Momma is. She’s Norwegian which is near Sweden and Denmark, she tells you, so she speaks Norwegian which is kind of similar to your other languages so when she speaks it, you can still kind of understand what she’s saying.

Ingrid’s nice though or, she was until she notices your potty dance.

“Do you need to go to the toilet, y/n?” She asks sweetly and you freeze where you’re sitting playing with your toys.

You shake your head.

“Are you sure?”

You nod.

“Okay, then.”

For some reason, Momma’s put you in big girl underwear today. She doesn’t usually but she has today and that’s a little weird but Momma says you’re growing up now and you assume wearing big girl underwear is part of that.

Ingrid doesn’t mention the potty again even though you keep wiggling around as you do your potty dance. She just lets you keep playing.

Moster Frido is the one that mentions it though.

She sees your potty dance too.

“Are you definitely sure you don’t need the potty?” She asks you and you shake your head again.

“No potty, moster,” You say even though your wiggling is getting more and more aggressive. You don’t want to use the potty at training. Potties are only for at home, you decide.

“Okay,” She says. She stands and your eyes follow her to the sink. She turns on the tap, leaning against the counter.

The water pours into the sink and moster Frido looks at you.

You look away but the running water makes your potty dance worse. You’re not wearing a nappy or a pull up and you don’t want Momma to get mad at you for having an accident in your big girl underwear.

Ingrid crouches in front of you and you look at her with wide eyes. She’s got a packet of your favourite mini skildpadder. Momma says you’re two little for sweeties but Momma's Momma came over from Denmark to visit and she bought those for you. You love them so Momma usually packs a few in your training bag for when you’ve been very good.

“It looks like you really need the potty,” She tells you, drawing the skildpadder away from you when you try to reach for it,” Why don’t you let Frido take you to the toilet, you go to the potty and you can have this when you get back?”

You think for a moment, trying to reach for it again but Ingrid keeps it from your grasp and your potty dance gets even worse.

“Do you need the potty?” Frido asks sweetly and your cheeks puff out in annoyance.

“Ja, moster.”

She grins at you. “Perfect.” She scoops you up and hurriedly walks you to the toilets where she puts down your potty and helps you pull down your special Wolfsburg shorts.

You are happy that she doesn’t watch you go, turning around to face the door and make sure no one else comes in.

She helps you get properly dressed again and walks you back to the break room. “I’m very proud of you,” She praises as she walks back,” You’re such a big girl now.”

You feel a little shy at that, feeling all mushy and warm that Frido thinks you’re a big girl. When you really miss Morsa, when she’s away with her blue team in London, you like to be with moster Frido. She’s not Morsa but she kind of is sometimes. Not in the ways that Morsa is your Morsa but you can close your eyes and have Frido talk to you in Swedish and it’s kind of like having Morsa with you.

“All good?” Ingrid asks as you both come back in and Frido nods.

Ingrid passes you your skildpadder and you tear into it until it’s all gone. That makes you a little sad but Ingrid and Frido join you on the floor with your toys and you feel better again.

“How about this,” Ingrid says as she plays,” For every time you use the potty at training, you can have a skildpadder? Does that sound good?”

It does sound good. You don’t get to eat them often but you know if Ingrid makes a convincing argument then Momma can’t do anything about it. You tell Ingrid as such and she and Frido both laugh.

“So it’s a deal then, is it, little monster?” Frido asks and you nod.

“Deal!”

“You have to shake on a deal.” She offers you her hand and you shake it eagerly.

You think for a moment. “Potty again, please?”

Ingrid and Frido both laugh.

“Maybe wait until you actually need it again. The skildpadder aren’t going anywhere.”

[ed-wwarren]

Alanna Spera loved spending time with her grandma Lorraine. The two of them had always had the most special bond, almost like they shared one heart and soul. They were similar in everything they did and said and liked, especially now what she was fourteen and starting to grow into a young lady, and if Alanna had it her way, she would be around her grandma all day every day. Of course she loved her parents, Tony and Judy, and her other grandparents, Johnny and Melanie, but Lorraine was her like her other half and very special to her.

Alanna was walking up the sidewalk to her grandma’s front door with her older brother, Anthony Jr., or AJ as he was affectionately called even though the nickname annoyed him now that he was a seventeen year old who was trying to be “a man” just like every other teenager trying to grow up too fast.

It had only been a month since their grandpa Ed had passed away from a heart attack. Everyone had taken it hard because Ed was the rock that held the family together but he had so many growing health issues when he got into his late seventies that his death was almost a blessing for him. He was no longer suffering and in pain…

Everyone had been going to see Lorraine often, no one wanting her to be alone for too long, but she was strong and a fighter, and definitely would never let her grand babies see her cry. Alanna and AJ had decided to go see their grandma and spend the Saturday with her, just wanting her to know that she was loved and they were there for her.

“Grandma! We’re here!” Alanna called with a smile as she stepped into the house she had spent so much time in…minus the basement that had always been off limits…and kicked her shoes off.

@giftedclairvoyance

[the-roo-too]

candy -> uchinaga aeri ver

aka the fluff alphabet

admiration (what does she absolutely adore about you)- you’re her biggest supporter, and she loves that about you. support giselle’s rights and wrongs

body (what’s her favourite body part of yours)- can i say ass bc giselle will give you a playful slap you when you’re passing by 😐

cuddling (how she likes to cuddle)- laying on top of each other ‼️ either your head nuzzling into her chest or the other way around, i don’t make the rules

dates (what’s her ideal date)- shopping 🤩 date 🤩 buy all the expensive clothes you talked about last night when you couldn’t sleep, and then get something yummy at the food court!

emotions (how does she express her emotions around you)- very expressive, especially when it comes to pouting. or making annoying kissy faces! with you, giselle is very straightforward

family (does she want one)- giselle doesn’t strike me as a family gal, sorry y’all. you’d be the best rich gay aunties tho!!!

gifts (what about gift giving)- surprise silly gifts! say you were back in your hometown for the weekend and giselle couldn’t tag along because of practice. you’re bringing her the ugliest ‘i love [city name]’ shirt you can find

holding hands (does she like to hold hands)- very much so! especially in front of her members. she has to assert her dominance and claim on you somehow right? 🙂‍↕️

injuries (what would she do if you got hurt)- 100% would laugh at you. but, hear me out, when we’re talking about minor injuries like slipping on wet floor, she’ll CACKLE like a witch, and then also slip in the same spot you did

jokes (does she like to joke around)- giselle is a prankster at heart ok don’t argue with me on that one

kisses (how does she like to kiss you)- gently and slowly, with her hands cupping your cheeks so they appear a little puffier.

love (what’s her love language)- she’s ver caring physically, but not verbally, you know what i mean? she’ll laugh at you when you hit yourself on the edge of the kitchen counter, but one of her hands will slip to your stomach to caress the spot where a bruise will form, while her other hand cups your cheek to examine your pretty face

memory (what’s her favourite memory together)- i think the first concert aeri brought you to! and not necessarily aespa’s concert, it might’ve been just a show of your favourite band. that’s a fond memory for her because you were all smiles the whole time!

nighttime (how does sleeping with her look like)- i can’t tell you where that vision came from, but she drapes her leg over you ok. it’s like holding you with her hand but not really

oddity (what’s one quirky thing about her)- visualise that one clip of her saying “when life gives you lemons, make mojitos…. i just said something very smart”. she wakes you up in the middle of the night to share her wisdom

pet names (what does she like to call you)- babygirl, babydoll, sweetie; the nicknames can fall on a spectrum between a granny and a sugar daddy

quality time (how does she like to spend time with you)- watching movies while eating takeout. you take turns in picking the films and aeri always chooses horrors, so you’ll curl up to her when you’re scared (she’s herself scared shitless but someone has to be the brave one in the relationship)

rush (does she rush into things)- a little bit? she asks you out after meeting you once, first kiss is after the first ‘i love you’ lol

secrets (how open is she with you)- giselle gives me the vibe of a person who tells you everything about her pets, but you don’t know her favourite colour until like the third anniversary

time (how long did it take her to confess)- as i said before, one full meeting

upset (what’s her reaction when you’re upset)- similar when you’re hurt? she’ll poke a little fun at you, but only if you’re upset about something minor. if you’re mad at her or really really upset, she’ll do her best to calm you down and resolve the problem

visibility (is she afraid of the public opinion)- like i said in winter and karina alphabet, all of aespa is TERRIFIED 💜 of the public opinion

warrior (how often do you fight)- not commonly. aeri doesn’t have that much free time so you both try to make as much of it as you can, and being mad at each other or fighting wouldn’t be helping the case

x-ray (is she able to read you)- yes, it’s like you’re connected telepathically. and then it works both ways! she can read you as well as you can read her

yes (how would she propose to you)- giselle doesn’t give me the vibe of someone who’d wanna settle down like that… living a happy life with two cats in a pretty house? yes, but marriage and all that official stuff? mm…

zen (what makes her feel calm)- good music 😔✊ the best way to relax fr. aeri has a special playlist with calming songs you both love just for that occasions

part of [the fluff series]

[reccyls]

Victor's Main Route: Blind Love Chapter 24 + Premium Attire Story

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Our next stop was Victor’s uncle’s villa. It was just a short distance from the lake, and due to the fact that it was quite far from the village, there were no other buildings nearby. The villa stood alone.

Victor: It’s been a very long time since I was back here.

His voice was full of nostalgia as he spoke.

Kate: Has anyone lived here after your uncle died?

Victor: After my uncle died, his wife had sold it. So no one is supposed to have lived here.

(‘Supposed to’...?)

I didn’t think that sold off properties would be cared for properly. However, the villa wasn’t completely broken down, and it appeared that its owner had done some basic maintenance on it.

Victor: After my uncle died, she decided to return to the country where she grew up. Victor: They never had any children, so she sold her possessions to start a new life in her home country.

The villa was unlocked, and the double doors swung open easily as Victor gave them a push. The empty, tranquil foyer was decorated mainly in deep green.

Victor: You probably have some thoughts otherwise, but this mansion is normally empty.

Following behind Victor, I climbed up the stairs to the second floor.

Kate: …But that isn’t the case now, is it?

Victor: That’s right.

Victor: We’re going to condemn the last person involved in this mess.

I remembered what Victor said last night and braced myself.

(That means that the person we’re looking for is here?)

Victor didn’t miss how my hands tightened around the strap of my bag.

Victor: Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone lay a finger on you.

Kate: Victor…

Victor: I just want you here to witness everything.

And then, he came to a stop in front of a door.

Victor: This is something only you can do.

Beyond the door was a desolate room.

The wallpaper was peeling, pictures hanging on the wall were hanging askew, and the floorboards had changed color. In contrast to the well-kept exterior of the villa, this room looked like it had been deliberately left a mess. As I heard a creaking, metallic sound, I whipped my head up to look for its source. At the very edge of the room, as the wind blew through tattered curtains, I saw a man in a wheelchair. The man’s long hair was tied in a single ponytail that swayed to the wind.

Victor: …Here you are, co-conspirator of the Privy Council Lord President and leader of Nox Liberator… Ben Brown.

The man slowly turned, his long black hair almost identical to Victor’s.

Victor: I am here to mete out your punishment.

(What is going on…?)

The man named Ben’s hair, though not as glossy as Victor’s, was very similar. His features, set in a gaunt, sharp face, resembled Victor’s as well. I was so stunned I forgot how to speak for a moment.

Ben: …And so the madman arrives.

He wheeled himself closer. Victor’s expression didn’t change.

Victor: Ben Brown. You have plotted to overthrow the state, mobilizing Nox Liberator, and led to the deaths and injuries of countless innocents. Victor: Your actions are completely unacceptable.

Ben looked downwards and said nothing for a moment. But then–

Ben: Ahahaha! Hahaha! You dare to say that to me, Queen Victoria!?

He suddenly burst into laughter, as if his body was unable to contain his mirth.

(He knows that Victor is Queen Victoria!?)

As I continued to stare at the cackling man, he looked towards me and our eyes met.

Ben: And is that woman your next victim? Poor thing. You spun her a tale like you usually do and now she’s ready to give up her life for you.

(What!)

Before I could retort, Victor put his hand on my shoulder.

Victor: I am not going to kill her. I’m not like you.

Ben: Hah! Hey, woman. He killed my father, you know. Ben: It’s because of him that all of the royal family killed themselves.

(His father…)

I briefly glanced at Victor, who glared at Ben before speaking.

Victor: This man is my uncle’s illegitimate child.

Kate: What…?

Victor: …My uncle and aunt could not have children. Victor: Though people around them insisted that a wife who could not bear children had no value, the two of them had chosen to stay together.  Victor: They believed that someday, they would have a child. Victor: But my uncle struggled to deal with the pressure, and one night, he visited a prostitute.

Ben: And so I was born.

Ben’s words brought me back to reality.

(So the resemblance is because they are related by blood.)

Ben: Because she had given him a child with royal blood, my mother approached my father to try and get him to divorce his wife. Ben: She told him there was no point in having a barren wife. But he refused the divorce.

There was no chance that he would divorce a woman of high enough status to marry into the royal family in the first place and take someone else for a wife.

(Especially since it was just the result of one night…)

I felt a little sorry for Ben’s mother.

Victor: But my uncle did as much as he could to support you and your mother, did he not?

Kate: !

I looked up when Victor spoke.

Victor: He could not bring her into the royal family, but he sent her enough funds that she would have no issues supporting both herself and you. Victor: I found records of the transaction in his room after his death.

Ben almost laughed himself sick.

Ben: You really don’t know anything, do you?

Victor: …What do you mean?

Ben: This is why I hate nobles like you. You have no idea how us commoners live.

Ben rested his chin on his hand like he was mocking Victor.

Ben: What do you think a woman poor enough to become a prostitute would do if she was given so much money?

He lifted one hand and counted off as he spoke.

Ben: Frivolous expenses, fooling around with men, wasting it in scams. Ben: She was only ever after money, that’s why she tried to get me into the royal family in the first place. My father must have known what she’d do with it.

(That’s…)

The past that Ben told us was a tragic one.

His mother had demanded that Ben’s father divorce his wife. And when it became clear that he would not, nor would Ben get access to the inheritance that came with royalty, she had demanded exorbitant amounts of money from his father. Regardless of the fact that Ben was the result of a single night’s mistake, Victor’s uncle did not want him to endure any hardship. He gave her enough money to easily support the both of them, and even bought them a house. (But Ben’s mother spent all of the money.) She even had to sell the house when she ran out, to continue funding her lavish spending. Ben had been forced into becoming the guarantor for his mother’s debts, and wrote a letter to his father asking for help. But no response arrived. Instead, he only received a notice of his father’s death, and that all of his father’s assets had been left to his wife. Ben thought that he had a right to at least some of them, so he filed a formal request. But although his father had supported Ben, he had never officially claimed Ben as his son. His wife wouldn’t have been able to easily accept a child born between her husband and a prostitute. Ben’s request was denied as there was no money to give to an illegitimate child, and from then on, his life turned even more hellish. Since he was the guarantor for his mother’s debts, he worked day after day without rest to earn enough money to pay them back. Over time, that took a toll on his body. And when he fell ill, there was no money to see a doctor, so things continued to the point where his legs were damaged badly enough he could no longer walk. Unable to find work, he stopped being able to make payments on the debt, earning him a violent visit from the lenders. Death seemed to be his last escape. But what came to greet him was… Ben: The leader of the Privy Council. The council leader had discovered that Ben had blood ties to the royal family, and reached out to him. Ben was desperate enough to do anything to escape his situation, and so he agreed to work with the council leader. Introduced to Nox Liberator, Ben began working with them. But as Nox Liberator’s activities began, he wondered about one thing: There was no such woman named Victoria in the royal family. But then he remembered something. A name mentioned in a letter that his father had written. Ben: “There’s someone here about your age who I’d like to introduce to you someday.” Ben: “His name is Victor, a young man with beautiful hair as black as night.” There was no one who knew the queen’s true face, that she kept hidden behind a veil. Ben learned through his sources that there was one person in the world who seemed familiar with the queen: her personal aide, Victor. As he continued his research, he also heard about Cursed Ones through the council leader, and learned about Crown’s existence. After deeper investigation into Victor, Ben found out about Victor’s ability. He realized that the reason his comrades had killed themselves while appearing overjoyed must have been because of Victor’s ability. And he sent his subordinates to find out about his father’s last moments from his former wife, who had since returned to her home country. From that, he learned that the last thing his father had done was go to speak with Victor. And the next time anyone saw him, he had a look of intense joy on his face with his hands wrapped around his own neck.

Ben: Our country’s ruler is someone who secretly killed most of the royal family, and disguises his identity? Ben: Don’t make me laugh. Someone like you doesn’t deserve to be on the throne!

Ben cast out his arms with a twisted grin.

Ben: Did you want to become king that badly? You wanted it so much that you lied to everyone and killed your entire family? Ben: It’s all because of you that so much suffering happened. If it wasn’t for you, I’d never have gone through everything I did. Ben: You’re a murderer and you’re allowed to be royalty, while I’m denied the same right even though I also have royal blood. Ben: What makes you so much better than me?

Something felt off about Ben’s words, even as he continued to raise his voice while trembling with emotion.

Ben: You’re nothing more than a reaper who only brings destruction to everyone!! Ben: You don’t deserve the throne!!

Victor said nothing.

He simply looked resigned, unable to refute what Ben had said.

Kate: …You’re wrong.

I couldn’t stop myself.

You don’t know anything. (+2/+4)

You’re wrong!

Don’t say things like that.

Kate: You don’t know anything, so stop running your mouth! Kate: You have no idea of what burdens he has to bear! Kate: You have no idea how much he cherishes this country, how much he sacrificed himself for everyone else’s sake. Kate: You don’t know a single thing!

My hands were curled into fists as I yelled. I knew how much Victor cared, so I couldn’t hold back any longer.

Kate: Your life has been more painful than I can imagine. Kate: But you aren’t the only person in this world who has gone through suffering, whether in the same form or a different one. Kate: Instead of lying to others, ordering people around, or encouraging violence, Kate: Have you ever worked for the sake of someone other than yourself?

Ben: Look at me, what do you think?

Kate: Everyone has something they can do, regardless of the condition of their body, don’t you think?

Ben’s expression twisted sharply.

Ben: An illegitimate child is still royal. I’m different than others. Getting my hands dirty is beneath me.

I finally put a finger on why I felt so uncomfortable with Ben’s insistence on lineage.

(In the end, he even looks down on his comrades in Nox Liberator.)

Ben spoke of moral causes, but it all boiled down to the fact that he was jealous of Victor and had a grudge. He worked with Nox Liberator not because of any shared ideology, but simply because their interests aligned.

Kate: Victor chooses to dirty his hands. And no matter how heavy his burdens are, he always acts cheerful. Kate: You have no right to erase the work he’s done!

In the blink of an eye, Ben pulled out a gun and aimed it at me. But–

Ben: Argh!

Victor: That is enough.

Victor instantly grabbed the hand holding onto the gun and twisted it aside. The gun clattered to the floor a distance away from them.

Victor: I have resolved to wear the crown of thorns, regardless of the envy or mockery aimed my way.

Victor began to speak.

Victor: For the country, for everyone living within its borders, and for the happiness of those who will live in the future I will create, Victor: I will continue on as I have always done, giving myself up and bloodying my hands for the sake of the country. Victor: We stand in different positions.

Victor let go of Ben’s hand and looked down on him.

Victor: I have resolved to die for this country.

He briefly looked towards me, gave me a reassuring smile, and then nodded. Following his signal, I picked up the gun and left the room. The sunlight streaming in through the hallway windows was now a dark orange. The lake outside reflected a brilliant sunset. As I reached the end of the hallway, I heard the sound of something falling from the room I had just left. I knew what that meant, and closed my eyes. Only when I heard footsteps stopping right next to me did I open them again. Turning around, I saw the sunset reflected in Victor’s eyes. He had a regretful smile on his face.

Victor: …Shall we go home?

Instead of replying, I took his hand and held it tight.

Premium Attire Story: The Night Before the Promise

It was already night by the time we arrived in London. Since leaving the villa, we had barely spoken to each other. I just kept holding tightly to his hand, reassuring him that I was by his side. The Thames was illuminated by a thin sliver of moon.

(It’s almost the new moon…)

What did the moon look like on the night that changed my life? Back then, checking the moon hadn’t been my top priority.

(It was probably the pale glow of an almost new moon.)

Realizing that the promised day was fast approaching, I looked up and stared into the sky while I walked.

Victor: Kate.

I turned to look at Victor. He raised our joined hands and laughed lightly.

Victor: If you don’t mind, why don’t we take a little detour before returning?

Kate: Sure, but where to?

…

He led us to the church of our memories. Just like a few days ago, he sat down on one of the benches and urged me to sit as well. The moonlight trickling in through the stained glass illuminated us.

Victor: …The mastermind behind the terrorism incidents has now been condemned. Victor: But someday, similar incidents may occur again.

Victor: People’s wills are lingering things. As long as there are successors to take up the mantle, one man’s will can live on for eternity.

Even without a leader, and with Nox Liberator controlled, evil could not be eradicated so easily. It seemed inevitable that smoldering embers would once again erupt into flame.

(But…)

Kate: Just like you said before, I believe that someone’s will won’t ever truly disappear. Kate: But it will take time to reignite, just like it took time for England to become known as the country where the sun never sets. Kate: People’s lives will slowly improve, and the smaller injustices will be weeded out one by one. Kate: And I think the discontent of the people will lessen.

There were no certainties about the unseen future. But there was something I could believe in.

Kate: I believe that you can make that future a reality.

Victor: !

Kate: I’ve been watching you for the past month, closer to you than anyone else. Kate: And what I’ve seen tells me that you are someone who believes that your dreams of the future will someday come to pass. Kate: It tells me that you are a wonderful ruler, because you are a wonderful person.

His eyes were wide, his entire expression fragile as if he were about to start tearing up.

Kate: Ah-!

He hugged me tightly.

Victor: …You’re always like this.

Kate: Victor?

He pressed his forehead into my shoulder. His hair tickled my cheek, and I could smell his night-like scent. Though his arms were gripping me tightly, I felt no pain. Only comfort.

Victor: You always say the words I’ve never heard from anyone else before. The words I’ve always wanted to hear. Victor: You say them so easily.

Moonlight reflected off his jewel-like eyes that peeked through his long eyelashes. I was captivated. I placed my hand on his cheek as I looked into his eyes, and our lips drifted closer.

(Oh…)

He kissed me. I felt something soft being pressed against my cheek and my eyes fluttered shut.

Kate: Mm…

My eyelids, the tip of my nose, my ears, my neck, my throat, my hair. The sound of kissing met my ears every time he pressed his lips to each location. I couldn’t help but giggle at the ticklish sensation, and after the last kiss fell on my forehead like a blessing, I opened my eyes. All I could see was Victor, not the church behind him, or the moonlight streaming in from above. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, the way his long black hair flowed like silk.

Victor: …Face here.

I followed his instructions and looked directly towards him. His lips descended closer and closer, to the one place they had not yet touched. I had been waiting for this for so long, and my heartbeat spiked. I was just about to close my eyes again… …But he stopped, and pulled back just before our lips touched.

Kate: Victor…?

I was filled with disappointment, and tried to chase his lips with mine. But he put a finger on my lips, and sighed.

Kate: Victor, I–

(I love you. I love you so much.)

The more he gave, the more I loved him. This love that seemed so impossible was right before my eyes now, and I realized I didn’t want to let it pass me by.

Victor: I need to tell you something.

He pulled back from me, interrupting what I was about to say. Something seemed slightly different about him now.

Victor: I had said that I would tell you everything, but there is one thing I haven’t mentioned yet.

Kate: What?

He stood up and approached the altar, gazing at the statue there.

Victor: It is about my curse.

In the middle of the destroyed church, he seemed ethereal, otherworldly.

Victor: You know my ability.

Kate: …You can make people obsessed with you, and to compel people to kill themselves while feeling happiness.

By order of the king, those who have lost their minds to Victor’s curse happily strangled themselves. It was an ability that had never been recorded before, and why he was called the Reaper.

Victor: But you don’t know yet what my ultimate fate is.

All Cursed Ones would meet a predetermined end. Just like a fairytale, there was no changing their fate.

(Everyone in Crown has an unchangeable destiny.)

I didn’t know them in any detail, but I was sure they weren’t happy ones.

Victor: I am likely the first person in all of history to have this curse. So there is no way to know for certain what my destiny will be. Victor: But in my heart, I know what it is.

Victor turned and began walking straight towards me.

Victor: I am fated to lead those I love to destruction.

His words lingered heavily in the air.

Victor: Though I never intended it, I brought ruin to my beloved family and killed them all. Victor: I destroy people. The more I love them, the worse their ends will be.

I was speechless.

Victor: If you take my hand, there is no salvation. There is only a path to destruction. Victor: Even if you do nothing wrong, you will be scorned, you will be condemned. Victor: Your death will be silent, unseen and unacknowledged. You will disappear into the darkness. Victor: Even if that weren’t the case, you will never be able to experience the life and the happiness you should have.

As he spilled out the last of his secrets to me, I bit my lip.

(This is why he never accepted my feelings. He had always known this.)

Again, it was surely an act of kindness to tell me this now.

If I took his hand now, I would never be able to turn away from the ruin that would be lurking in my future. In the end, all that would be left of me was a forgotten smear in the darkness of history.

(But I’ve made up my mind long ago.)

Victor: I will wait until tomorrow.

I looked up in surprise to see Victor walk past me, headed for the exit.

Victor: If you want to return to your old life, I won’t stop you. Victor: Only you can decide what you want to do.

(He said all that because he’s worried about me.)

I wouldn’t throw that worry in his face. I resolved to think carefully, and then give him my answer properly tomorrow. That was the most sincere thing I could do for him.

…

When we returned to Crown Castle, the sky was full of stars and the new moon. And… It was the night before the promised day.