#is in relation to that comment Eyebrow Chef makes about being Out There. that THAT'S what it's all about

[myherowritings]

order’s up!

— Osamu gets a big order of some rather strange rice ball combinations an hour before closing. He doesn’t expect that he’d find the customer who ordered to be so damn cute.

pairing: miya osamu x reader word count: 2,387 genre: fluff, post manga timeskip

a/n: first haikyuu fic and aHH it was so fun to write ,, i didn’t expect osamu to be my first but here we are and tbh i am not mad~ ;) FJSDHKJ hope u enjoy!!

“One unagi onigiri to go-- Your order’s ready!”

A middle-aged man stood up from his seat at the waiting area and headed over to the counter, thanking Osamu for the fresh onigiri and making brief small talk. As the man left, Osamu looked at the customer next in line, thankful there was only one person in here so close to closing time.

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” he stated when your gaze met his, lips quirking up to give his best customer service smile.

You nodded with a warm smile of your own before looking down at the phone in your hands, murmuring what he thought sounded like “salmon, plum, beef, extra green onions, heavy on the seasoning.” Now, he liked to think there were no rules to onigiri, but part of him did hope you wouldn’t ask for all those ingredients in one gigantic, imbalanced rice ball. Maybe you were reciting a large number of individual orders.

He shrugged. Money was money, and all onigiri was good onigiri when made with his special Miya love. Miya love that was specific to Osamu in particular, of course. Atsumu could never recreate it even if he tried-- Not that he ever tried. The day he tried in something other than volleyball would be the day Osamu said he was the worst onigiri chef in Japan.

In other words, never.

Osamu hustled over to the cash register and you took that as your cue to step forward, hands fidgeting with your wallet and cellphone.

He smirked to himself in silent amusement. A shy one, were you? By now he had lost count of all the nervous and fidgety costumers he had gotten at his shop, but to allow them to stay that way simply wouldn’t do. If his patrons weren’t 100% comfortable in his care--well, as comfortable they could be in an onigiri shop--it meant he was doing his job wrong.

As the owner of Onigiri Miya he wanted to make sure every customer would leave with a smile and a desire to come again soon. That was how he built rapport and got so many regulars after all.

“I can take your order whenever you’re ready,” said Osamu in a slow pace, encouraging you to slow your rhythm as you tapped your fingertip restlessly against your protective phone case. Were you in a hurry? You seemed rather antsy, but he went on. “There’s no rush here.”

There was less than an hour until closing and he figured you would be the last customer of the day-- Meaning there was no reason not to slow down. As much as Osamu appreciated how lively his hometown could be, he also enjoyed quieter moments like these.

Not everything had to be so loud. Not everything had to be moving so fucking fast all the time. And he learned that in some instances, he could just control the pace himself.

Your worried chatter brought him out of his musing. “Are you sure? Because I know you close soon and I really didn’t want to come in so late but the guys are still down over a loss and said this was their favorite comfort food,” you said, eyebrows furrowed in a tell of concern. “It’s kind of a big order, so if you need to start cleaning up for closing I can just go to another store-- Sorry for imposing!”

He blinked. He thought he just said there was no rush to imply he wasn’t worried and you shouldn’t be either, but you didn’t seem to pick up on that.

“Hey, you’re not imposing,” Osamu soothed, somewhat alarmed at your apprehension. “You said someone was down over a loss? You on a sports team?”

Losing sucked. Osamu knew this firsthand.

Sure, in hindsight it wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but while it could sure feel that way sometimes. If it was bad enough, it could take a few days to really get over and grow from it. So hearing that Onigiri Miya was someone’s comfort food that could help cheer them up on days like those… That certainly gave him reason to puff his chest up a little more.

“Yeah! Well, kind of.” You moved your head side-to-side as if unsure of your answer. “I help assist the volleyball team at my university. It’s my last year in school and I’m sure all of the other fourth years are bummed too.” Catching the small frown on your face, you stopped yourself before it spread, clearing your throat. “But it’s okay! At least we all had fun. And now they’ll be getting some of their favorite food to cheer them up-- If you’re still taking orders, that is…?”

He nodded. “‘Course I am.” Osamu flashed you a grin intended to make your worries disappear. “What kinda store owner would I be if I couldn’t make your team their pick-me-up food?”

The two of you shared a look before you tore your gaze away, biting your lower lip to hide your smile.

“Thank you, then,” you murmured, unlocking your phone to what appeared to be a notes app.

Osamu picked up his pen with a short hum. “Ready to take your order when you are.”

“Right.” You stared at your screen in concentration before listing off what you had written. “Can I have three salmon onigiris with green onions, two umeboshi and mentaiko with light seasoning and ginger, one tempura and unagi with green onions and sesame seeds and heavy seasoning, two…”

As he noted your orders, some arguably stranger than others--not that he should be one to judge, what with his own peculiar preferences--he made a mental note of how cute your voice sounded and tucked it away in the depth of his mind. Was cute the word for it? He wasn’t exactly sure, but he guessed that sounded okay enough. There was something about hearing you talk that made Osamu want to hear more, even if it was just a list of onigiri ingredients.

He huffed. Weird.

When you finished he repeated back your order, affirming it was all correct.

“Great, so I’ll be with you in about 15 to 20 minutes with your order ready,” he informed as he held the paper with the dishes he had to make. “You can have a seat at one of the tables ‘til I return.”

You nodded at his words but hesitantly opened your mouth. “Erm-- Wait!”

He looked back at you, mere steps away from the cooking area.

“Is it just you working at this hour?” you asked, standing with your hands folded behind your back as you craned your neck.

“Yeah, we don’t get many late customers on a Tuesday night so I’m the only one closin’ today.” Osamu gave you a curious once-over. Bright eyes, nervous yet playful smile, cute outfit-- Damn, he sure was using the word cute a lot today. All in relation to you nonetheless. “Why?”

“Are you sure the order isn’t too big for you in this hour?” Once again, you were fretting. He reckoned he ought to teach you some relaxation techniques and tips of how to be less...selfless. “Do you need some, uh, help?”

The corner of Osamu’s lip twitched upwards. Help? What were you planning on doing if he said yes? Learn the basics of food safety and onigiri-making in less than 20 minutes so you could assist him in making your order?

Something told him that was, in fact, what you were ready to do.

Cute.

“Stop stressin’, sweetheart,” he said with a tsk, not bothering to hide his amused grin. “I’ve handled bigger orders than this. You just rest your pretty little head and I’ll be finished before you know it.”

Though you still looked concerned, you nodded and sat down, probably figuring you would be more of a hindrance in his onigiri-making flow than anything else.

“Don’t miss me too much-- And don’t even think of saying sorry or anythin’ like that!” His tone was teasing but he meant what he said. You were a customer at Onigiri Miya and he wanted no patron of his to be worrying this much if he could do anything to help it. “The store’s still open and I’ve no issue taking your order. ‘Kay?”

You blinked. “Okay. I… Thank you, uh, Miya-san.”

“Just Miya’s fine.”

“Right. Miya. Thank you.”

He sauntered off into the kitchen to get started with your order and as he went through making your onigiri, he hoped you wouldn’t still be feeling bad about a big order that wasn’t even that big compared to others he got. Besides, you had already paid for the order. There was no point worrying after the transaction went through.

Osamu soon made his way down the list of rice balls and, just like he promised, popped his head out of the kitchen along with three, full takeout containers in record time.

“For the cutest customer here tonight-- Order’s up!”

You perked up at the mouthwatering smell of his onigiri, pressing a hand to your stomach as you hummed. “I’m the only customer here tonight, but since your food smells so yummy I will choose to let that comment slide.”

Holding the bag of takeout in front of his, Osamu smirked at your surprisingly steadfast composure. You didn’t get flustered at his unabashed compliment like he thought you would, and for some reason that made you seem even more appealing.

As you accepted the order, he quipped, “Only customer here or not, you’re still the cutest.”

You wrapped your fingers around the handle of the takeout bag, the edge of your pinky brushing against his thumb. “Hmm, then-- I guess you’re definitely the cutest worker here tonight, even though it is by default.”

Osamu laughed, both in amusement and in happiness after finally getting you to feel comfortable in his shop.

“A compliment’s a compliment and I’m not above being the cutest by default,” he said with a lazy drawl, watching as you set the onigiri bag on the counter in front of you while easing into a conversation with him.

“As if you would ever have to win by default. You seem much too handsome and talented for that.”

It sounded like you were flirting. Were you flirting? He noted the mischievous glint in your eyes and the way you lingered in the store instead of leaving once you received your order.

Yeah. You were so flirting.

“Cute.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, nothing.” He smiled secretively but wouldn’t expand on what he said despite your questioning look.

You narrowed your eyes. “Sure, okay then.” Your fingers wrapped and unwrapped themselves from the handle of the to-go bag, like you didn’t want to leave just yet but didn’t know what was left to say. “Well-- Um, thank you for the order! I’m sure this’ll cheer the team right up.”

“And you as well, I hope.”

“Of course. I haven’t even tasted it but it already has.”

Just being here already has, is what you seemed to say. Osamu rather liked that implication.

“But… I still feel kind of bad for ordering all this so close to your closing hours,” you said sheepishly, rubbing the side of your neck like it had a knot. “I’m sorry.”

Osamu waved his hand at your words. “Please, what do you have to apologize for? Making me do my job?” he asked cheekily, his sideways grin showing teeth. “You shouldn’t feel bad.” He noticed the way you brought your lower lip into your mouth with uncertainty and he continued, “But if you still do...there is a way you could repay me and soothe those worries.”

You looked up, eyes widened. “How? I’d do anything.”

Dangerous words coming from such pretty little lips.

He adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves, unintentionally bringing your attention to his forearms. “Let me treat you out this weekend, yeah?”

Your gaze followed his hands as you nodded. “Yea--” You blinked to snap out of your daze and he stifled a laugh. “Wait, wait! Shouldn’t I be the one to treat you?”

“What kinda gentleman would I be if I were to ask you out on a date and tell you to pay?”

Maybe Atsumu would’ve made his date pay for their meal and activities of the day, but Osamu wasn’t him. Osamu had class.

“A date?” you parroted. “As in one with me? And you? Together?”

There wasn’t anyone else in the store he could be asking. Nope, just you and your awkwardly cute self.

Osamu nodded in affirmation. A date is just what he was asking you out on. “Well, only if you want, of course.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to contain the wide smile that threatened to spread across your face. “I wouldn’t mind a date with the cutest worker here tonight,” you teased, looking around the store before meeting landing on his face. “I still want to be the one to treat you, though. It’s the least I could do.”

As happy as he was that you didn’t reject him, he didn’t give. “Don’t worry about treating me-- Your company’s a better treat than money could buy.” You snorted at his pickup line and Osamu silently cursed his brother for saying that line would always work. And then cursed himself for believing it. “Look, I’ll pay. I insist.”

“I insist too.”

You held each other’s gaze, neither one wavering. He seemed to realize you weren’t going to give in, but he wasn’t planning on it either. He huffed, shaking his head, entertained. “Okay, then. How ‘bout we rock-paper-scissors it when the day comes?”

“Fine by me,” you laughed, hiding the bottom half of your face with your hand. He wanted to hold it in his so he could see the full smile you were covering, but Osamu decided he could save that for another time. “But don’t think you’ll have an easy win! I’ll have you know I play a mean game of rock-paper-scissors.”

“‘Course you do, sweetheart.”

And he didn’t doubt that at all.

As strange as the orders were and as nervous as you may have been at the start, Osamu found himself rather fond of you. Was working overtime worth it just for a date with a cute costumer?

Yeah, he decided. It was.

a/n: y/n’s vball team waiting for their comfort food after a bad loss while y/n and osamu are just there flirting after hours: 👁💧👄💧👁

[melodyofmbaku]

In Between the Lines Chapter 2 (Erik Stevens x OC)

Teaser [1]

Prompt: “C'mon, I wanna hear you say it.”

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Angst... I can’t help it.

That was her problem.

Elloise couldn't see. So she liked to touch.

It was how she was able to experience the world. It was also the bane of Erik’s existence.

She was always fiddling & touching and it drove him right up the wall.

Didn't she know that some people would misinterpret her actions?

That’s exactly why he hung around her so much, she was entirely too trusting. And he didn't want someone with ill intentions to take advantage of her.

That’s what it was.

Not because he wanted her hands to be on him and him only.

Or because he wanted to see exactly what that mouth could do.

It was because she had a bleeding heart for every seemingly suffering individual and it would be her downfall.

That’s what it was.

As such he made it his mission to weave his way into her days because Elloise was one of the few people he actually liked around here.

He remembers the first time he met the woman who had ownership of his heart.

~~

It was 2 years ago when hehad just arrived at the palace. The place that was supposed to be his home. After he decided to work alongside T’Challa to better improve relations between Wakanda and the rest of the world it was decided.

He could learn more about his father, his birth place, and detach from his old hobby.

Killing people.

So when the young man approached him with a smile on his face and gesturing towards his gear he put a stop to it quick.

He still had some of his pieces on him and he didn’t want that getting messed with.

He rolled his eyes and mumbled an “nah I’m good boss” under his breath before walking around him.

The man began to follow him, looking intently at him with a confused look on his face.

“Do you need some help with your bags?” He gestured to his belongings once more.

“I’m good man.” He responded back again lowly. What was this dude’s problem?

Then he heard it. Her.

"Would you quit mumbling under your breath? If you have something to say, speak up, if not, you'd be better off shutting up".

He looked to the side and took in the woman who emerged from one of the many entrances that lead to the front hall.

She looked lithe and soft. She had dark skin and plump lips, wild coily hair, and a dress that accentuated her waist dangerously. Her cleavage was artfully on display and he was definitely taking a look.

This was the exact kind of woman he enjoyed whining, dining and bending over at the end of the night.

He would also probably do something wicked to that mouth…

He cocked his head and the corner of his lip lifted up in amusement.

“What you say ma?”

He watched as she walked towards him with intent and an odd aura of grace.

Interesting.

She stopped much too close to him.

"Erik... when you entered these grounds — the palace — my house — because that's what this is... my house — you consented to abiding to the rules of this household”.

"Some of which include forgoing your "I used to kill people for a living" vibe so that the differently abled individuals in the residence can comfortably get their jobs done".

What was she going on about? Differently abled?

She gestured to the young man who came to take his bags.

"James is hard of hearing. It helps that you speak clearly, and preferably facing him, so he can better assist you".

Erik turned to take him in. Then he saw it.

James smiled politely and gestured to the tiny hearing aid that was discreetly placed behind his ear.

Erik swallowed. He felt like a dick. He palmed the back of his neck.

"Nah uh... I'll carry my own weight." he responded after clearing his throat.

James nodded and looked back at the woman as if waiting for a command.

She turned to him "Thanks James, it seems like Mr. Stevens has it covered. You can go now."

The young man nodded and went on his was and Erik could’ve sworn he heard a snicker from him as he retreated. He glared at his retreating back.

"Can I touch you"? she asked tilting her head.

"What"? he asked confused.

She gestured toward his face. “Can I touch you? Your face specifically”. She repeated.

Erik squinted still trying to understand what exactly her problem was.

"Why the fu —". She never let him finish.

"We'll be spending a lot of time together now that you’re officially part of the royal family”.

“What’s that gotta do with you touching me?”.

"To save you further embarrassment, and a repeat scenario… in case you missed it Mr. Stevens... I'm blind". She pointed to her eyes to convey her point.

There was a moment of silence before Erik realized.

He wasn't sure how he missed it. He was getting comfortable and terribly out of practice.

She had done a very good job of presenting as normal as possible.

He ducked lower to her level to meet her eyes. True enough her deep brown eyes were unfocused and there seemed to be a gray film over them but they were brown nonetheless.

She repeated her question.

"Can I touch your face, so I know what you look like?” she gestured to him leaning forward invasively close.

“What if I say no”? He responded back defiantly. She wouldn’t catch him slipping twice.

“Then you say no”. she shrugged leaning back.

“I wouldn’t touch you without your consent, another one of our house rules that I hope you’ll remember”. She replied in a patronizing fashion.

He took offence.

“I’m a killer, not a rapist.” he spat out.

“That’s good to hear”. she commented before walking up the stairs encouraging him to follow.

“I’ll show you to your room, and it’s a pleasure to meet you Erik.”

And that was the beginning of their relationship.

~~

He idled about and nursed a drink in his hands and tried to look the least bit engaged at this donor dinner. He hated these dinners.

He’d have to watch Elloise on his cousins arm the entire night. Not to forget the attendees who were there for selfish political gain alone.

He watched closely as she made the rounds with T’challa around the room. She had chosen a deep green dress with a dangerous V that held his attention throughout the night.

T’challa paraded her around the room like the gift she was and he knew this was the part of him she fell in love with.

That’s why he was surprised to find her alone and still dressed to the nines in the palace kitchen in the middle of the night.

He had changed into his comfortable sweats and made his way over to decide on which concoction of alcohol would knock him out for the night.

She had a plate of lamb and potatoes untouched in front of her.

She didn’t startle when he spoke. She probably knew he was here based on his cologne or possibly just heard him when he came in.

“Midnight snack?” He paused and sat in the seat across from her.

“I got the chef to make me something then sent him away.” She spoke clearly. He heard the hardness in her voice.

She was upset.

He saw that the lamb sat on the play uncut and her hands lay in her lap.

“Let me get some of that.”He reached over for the plate and she stopped him.

“Erik. I like lamb.” She held onto the plate refusing to let up.

He sighed.

“Here, I got it.” He stretched his hands for the cutlery.

“I can do it myself.” She protested eyebrows furrowing.

“I know that.”

She still held onto the fork with hostility. She was upset.

“I like doing this so relax okay? You know it’s not like that.” he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and awaited her answer.

With that she reluctantly released the cutlery to him and folded her hands in her lap carefully.

She heard the fork and knife scrape against the plate as Erik cut it into pieces. She couldn't help but inhale a little bit deeper.

She liked the way he smelled. Erik always smelled like warmth..

She didn't know what to do with her hands. They were always doing something. Touching, feeling, studying, working.

She tried so hard to not be caught lacking, to be looked at as unable.

She would always have an excuse, because of her condition, but she pushed herself to insane lengths to never have to use it.

With Erik she was able to relax without being scrutinized, when it was just the two of them it was different.

This was... nice. She liked it.

"Potatoes too?" he asked wondering if he should slice up the baby potatoes that accompanied the lamb on her plate.

She shook her head — negative, she liked them whole.

"Thank you". she replied back softly.

"Don't mention it". He responded before carefully handing the fork back to her.

Her fingers lingered on his hand a moment before she pulled them away seemingly unaware.

Erik lived for moments like these.

He watched attentively as she speared the tender meat and placed it in her mouth and began to chew.

“Where’s T? Why isn’t he here with you right now?” He was sure he’d be tearing it up tonight. She looked that damn good.

She paused and looked down. “He… got called away for an emergency.”

They both knew what that meant. Erik wanted blood.

“You can’t let him get away with disrespecting you like this El. Tell somebody. The elders. Anybody.” He urged with subdued rage.

“Would they blame him? Or would his actions be chalked up to something else?” She shifted in her seat.

“Maybe how in more than one way I’m not enough.” She placed another piece of meat into her mouth and chewed slowly.

Despite the hot anger that flowed through his veins, he knew it was the truth.

He hated that it was the truth.

He despised his cousin for taking that vulnerable woman and turning her into this.

He was going to end him.

They weren’t that close anyways.

He could see it now.

He’d start from his left hip bone and do a clean cut — probably with something classic. Like a black pearl switchblade. Then he’d —

“You can’t say anything Erik.” she commanded. It was if she heard him plotting.

He scoffed.

“It’s not your right.” She said.

Her mouth was sharp as ever.

He hated that mouth.

He dreamed of that mouth.

He was the forgotten cousin. An honorary royal. Offered a position for blood ties and even then, it was decorative.

An outcast.

Maybe that’s why they got along so well.

She placed another potato between her lips.

He rose from his seat and stood behind her.

He began to remove the large decorated pins from her pressed hair. His fingers reached the nape of her neck and she finally released the tension that her body held.

“I didn’t say I was going to do anything.” He spoke lowly above her, focused on the task at hand.

She leaned into his hand and he snuck his fingers into her hair and found her scalp.

He rubbed at it gently, product would cling to his fingers later but he didn’t mind it.

“We’re the same you and I.” She hummed.

He cocked his head and continued his task.

He never understood her when she said that. But in fear of being scolded he kept quiet.

She was good. So good. He was bad bad bad.

He felt her shuffle to rise and he stopped his actions unwillingly.

She sat up and he reluctantly removed his fingers from her head.

She ran her palms down her dress to straighten it out before she looked in his direction.

“You’re harmless. ” She joked lightly before lifting her hand awaiting his arm to lead her back to her room.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Girl, you should be scared of me.” He murmured slyly.

She rolled her eyes.

He offered her his arm and she grasped it in a familiar fashion and let him lead her.

They walked leisurely through the hallways. When he didn’t get a response to his last statement he assumed his previous joke fell flat.

“Erik, when are you gonna go?” She asked softly. Her fingers added more pressure into his arms, concern lacing her tone.

She’s been pestering him for months to go to therapy — deal with his murderous thoughts.

He didn’t like the idea.

So he wasn’t going to do it.

“I’ll go when you go.” He shot back.

She sniffed and turned her face away from him.

He grinned cheekily, dimples shining through.

“You know why I can’t go. It’d be taboo for me. Plus, they treat me like an invalid.” he watched her mouth twist into a scowl.

He scoffed, and continued to lead them to her destination.

Their route was coming to an end and he knew she felt it.

As they got closer and closer to her quarters her grip tightened on his bicep. And he paused.

“Erik I’m scared.” she whispered.

“If he can do this. Openly. In our room. In our bed, then...”

“What’s next? What’s next for me?“ she looked in his direction — lost.

“If he don’t got you, I got you.” He crowded her space and bent down so he could be level with her.

She needed to understand that she could rely on him for anything. He wasn’t sure he knew just how deep his feelings went for her.

She lifted her hands to hold his face. It was how she saw. Her hands immediately found his beard. He saw the tears pool in the corner of her eyes.

“Anytime you get scared you call me. You hear me?”

Her gaze was downcast. This wouldn’t do.

“I’ll gut em. Like fishes. The whole lotta them.” He pushed out huskily.

“Erik...” she murmured disapprovingly.

“You believe me?” He asked.

“I —“

“C'mon, I wanna hear you say it.” He pushed lowly committed to making her see that she wasn’t alone, he was there.

“Yes Erik, I believe you.” She whispered lowly. She quickly wiped the tears that had slid down her face disobediently.

“Good.”

“Goodnight E.” She stepped back and turned to her door. He watched as she steadied herself.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets to stop himself from grabbing her and crushing her in his embrace.

He wanted to grab her and kiss away her fears.

Instead he subdued his wants and watched her walk through her door.

The door to the room she shared with T’Challa.

He spun around and began the familiar path back to the kitchen.

After knocking back the drink of the night he steadied himself.

Erik walked to his chambers in the same manner he did every night — longing for his cousin's wife.

Taglist:

@fd-writes @amorestevens @raysunshine78 @adreamsublime

__

Idek what I’m even doing with this story but lmk what you think 💜

If you want to be added to the taglist just comment.

[moon-light-jukebox]

You’re not my type [Hotch x Reader]

Summary: Reader is the new press liaison to the elite Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. A stray comment from her leads to a lot of questions from her teammates, especially her unit chief, Aaron Hotchner. When they’re thrown together on a case that hits close to home for Reader, will that comment tear them apart? Or will it bring them closer together?

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner / (Female) Reader

Rating: Mature

Category: Angst then smut, with plenty of fluff sprinkled throughout.

Word Count: 8.4k

Content Warning: This gets pretty angst heavy in places. The team is chasing an Unsub that’s a serial r*pist/mu*derer. Mentions of an attempted a*sault to someone Reader cares about. Providing comfort to victims of the unsub. It’s dark in places, but if you can stick with me, I promise I will mend the angst and take you to the land of smut and fluff. Because there is plenty of smut.

A/n: Have you ever had a story that just grabbed hold of you and refused to let go? This story was supposed to be half this length and pure fluff. Reader and Hotch dug their claws into me and made me tell their own story. I’m not mad at it, and if you give it a chance, I hope you love it as much as I do. masterlist

y/n = your name. y/l/n = your last name. italicized text = reader’s thoughts

--“You’re not my type” --

The clock was moving so slowly, I couldn't help but think it was moving backward.

Come on, hurry up. I wanna go home.

I sighed, resigning myself to the fact that it was going to be 4:30 pm for the rest of my life. I still had some files to hand out to the team; I usually do that part of my very glamorous job in the mornings, but since I had nothing but time now, I thought why not.

I had been a “sort of” member of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit for 5 months. Jennifer- wait, JJ, had the job as media liaison before me; she was the last person to officially hold the position. When she left the unit chief of the BAU, Aaron Hotchner, and the technical analyst, Penelope Garcia, had split the roll. That is until Chief Strauss had decided that she wanted the BAU to run more efficiently. Meaning that Hotch got less paperwork, Garcia got a break from talking about mutilated bodies, and I got shuffled around from the public relations office.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed working with the team, I really did, but I couldn't help but feel excluded sometimes. They're all practically a family. I didn't really have any sort of family anymore, just a best friend that has always felt more like a sister.

Pushing those thoughts aside, I made my way towards the bullpen, shoving the doors open to see the team sitting on various desks talking to each other. Loudly.

“Shut UP, man!” Derek Morgan’s voice was loud, but amusement was clear on his face. Actually, everyone seemed sort of amused. Rossi and Hotch were leaning on the railing near their respective offices, watching the events unfold with smiles on their faces.

Hotch smiles? Huh. Weird.

I quickly tried to make my way around them, hoping none of them would notice me.

“Okay, I know how we can settle this. Y/n!” Shit. No such luck. I turned to look at Emily Prentiss, with her long dark hair and angular face. Why is everybody here so fucking pretty?

I cleared my throat, trying to compose my face. “Yes?”

“Answer something for us.” Everyone seemed very eager for me to be a part of this now, which I didn’t think was a good sign.

“I’ll do my best.”

She smiled at me like she was sensing her victory. "If Morgan asked you on a date, what would you say?"

Oh, they couldn’t have picked a worse person to play this game.

I chuckled awkwardly, trying to appear calm. “Um…I’d probably say no.” Morgan took a dramatically loud breath before slapping his hand to his chest. “No offense,” I quickly added.

Morgan wasn’t giving up his dramatics that easily. “Damn, girl! You’re gonna cut me down just like that?”

“I’m sorry,” I said with an awkward laugh. “You’re just not my type.”

Garcia’s eyebrows hit her hairline. “Excuse me? He’s not your type? Tall, dark, and extremely well-muscled isn’t your type?” She scoffed like I was insane; I mean, maybe I was. Jury’s out.  “What about that is unappealing to you?”

I couldn’t think of a believable lie, so I went with the truth. “The tall and extremely well-muscled part.” I shifted from foot to foot anxiously.

Emily blinked. “O-okay. Fair enough,” she laughed, looking at me like she’d never seen me before.

I was preparing to turn and make a very quick escape, but JJ had other plans. "Woah, woah, woah," the blonde hopped off the desk, walking a bit closer to me. "If Morgan isn't your type…who is?"

Fuck me running. “Um…” I trailed off. “I don’t think I really have a type, to be honest.”

"Do you like men," Morgan chimed in. "No judgment, little mama."

Not for the first time, I wished I was a lesbian. “I am sadly mostly heterosexual.” I was convinced no one could be completely heterosexual, it just didn’t seem natural.

Emily chuckled at that. “Okay then,” her hand moved up to adjust her dark bangs, something she did when she was thinking. “What if Hotch asked you out?”

“Okay, okay, don’t drag me into this,” the Unit Chef boomed out, much to Rossi’s amusement.

“…Um.” Why couldn’t I just die? “Sorry, boss, but no.”

Morgan crossed his arms over his chest. “Is Hotch also too tall and well-muscled.”

“Probably,” I answered without much thought. “I can’t comment on the state of his muscles. But he’s very…big. And he intimidates me.” I didn’t let my eyes stray to my boss; I simply couldn’t.

"Ah-ha. There it is!" Morgan slapped his hands together like he had solved some big puzzle. "You don't like men that intimidate you. So, if pretty boy over here asked you out, you'd say yes."

I didn't know a person's ears could blush until that moment when my eyes drifted over to Dr. Spencer Reid. The tips of his ears were bright pink and he was looking anywhere but at me.

I answered honestly again, I figured they’d know if I lied. Fucking profilers. “Yeah, I would say yes. But only if I didn’t know him.” Spencer’s eyes finally shifted over towards me. “You’re easily one of the most brilliant people in the world. You’d be bored to tears on a date with me,” I said, my gaze meeting his wide eyes.

The boy genius’s head tilted ever so slightly to the side, his lips moving like he muttered something under his breath.

Is it 5 yet?

JJ wasn’t totally prepared to let this go, because she asked, “Okay, so a yes to Spence, a no to Hotch and Morgan.” She tapped her chin with her index finger. “What about Will? You’ve met my husband, right?”

I had indeed met her husband with his Princess and The Frog accent. I couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, I met him the other day when he brought your son by. And…I don’t know, maybe him. He doesn’t give off an air of intimidation.” Which was the nicest way I could say ‘your husband doesn’t scare the shit out of me.’

I glanced down at my watch, seeing it was finally 4:55 pm. “Sorry guys, I need to get these files out before I go home.” With an overly bright smile, I darted away as fast as my uncomfortable shoes would let me.

My final stop was Hotch’s office, and I was so relieved that he wasn’t in it for once. I placed the file on his desk, looking at the pictures of a little boy, his son, I assumed, on his desk.

“I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable.”

I'm not sure what I was more embarrassed by, the tiny yelp that escaped my lips or how I smacked my hand over my chest in such a dramatic fashion that I could have given Derek Morgan a run for his money. "Jesus fucking Christ, Hotch! You scared the shit out of me!"

His lips twitched in poorly concealed amusement, either at my reaction or my swearing at him. “Sorry, y/n. I didn’t know I needed to knock before I entered my office. I’ll try to do better next time.”

Oh, this guy has jokes now too.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at his dry humor. “I’m sorry. I startle easily. I didn’t mean to swear at you.”

“Y/n, I’ve been with the bureau for almost 20 years. Trust me, I’ve heard worse.”

I bet he has.

“Well,” I cleared my throat awkwardly. “Alright then. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, sir.”

“Of course,” he stepped out of the doorway so I could exit. “Y/n?” He said it like it was an afterthought. “Do you really find me intimidating?”

My eyes were wide as I looked all the way up at him. Really, what was the point in being that tall? "Oh, absolutely, sir." Then I hurried out the door, not wanting to see his reaction or lack thereof.

--

After stopping by my office, I was waiting for the elevator when I felt someone behind me; turning I saw the pretty boy himself standing awkwardly off to my side. I offered him a small smile before shifting my attention back to the bank of elevators in front of me.

The middle one opened first, Spencer waved me in first before he entered and hit the button for the ground floor.

He was clearly working up his nerves to say something, you didn’t have to be a profiler to see that. “Hey, um, y/n?” I turned my head in his direction, waiting for him to continue. “What you said back there…that you’d go on a date with me if I asked, did you mean that?”

There was that blush again, he really was adorable. “Of course, I meant it, Spencer.” He didn’t look convinced. “I mean, why would I lie? I turned Morgan down right away. And Hotch, who is my boss.”

Spencer let out a small laugh at that, unable to argue against my point. “I guess that’s true.” The elevator doors opened, he waved me out first, again, before exiting himself. “Do you really think that I’d be bored on a date with you?”

"I mean, you have 3 Ph.D.'s and a super high IQ." I waved my free hand around, gesturing to myself like it would help me prove my point. "And look at me. I'm smart, but I'm not that smart. I couldn't put you through a date like that."

He didn’t seem to appreciate my self-deprecating humor. I headed for the doors without giving him a chance to respond. “Have a good night, Dr. Reid!” I offered a small wave before I all but sprinted out the doors towards the parking garage.

Why? Just why?

--

“We have to catch him before this turns into a spree,” Hotch’s voice was grave, his face the same stern mask it always was. “Wheels up in 30.”

Taking that as a dismissal, the team rose from the table, hurrying towards their respective desks to get their go-bags. That was the part of this job that took the longest to get used to. I never traveled much in public relations; now I'm on a plane several times a week. That in itself wouldn't be so bad…if I didn't still get terrible motion sickness. I don’t know why I hadn’t gotten used to it yet, but I had to keep some non-drowsy motion sickness pills in my go-bag at all times. I tried to take them before I boarded the jet; it was probably silly, but I didn’t really want the team to know. They were all superheroes in my eyes; superheroes don’t get motion sickness.

I was the last one to board the jet today. I was usually one of the first onboard, but I got held up on my way here speaking to someone from my old office. When I came through the plane's doors there rest of the team was spread out. Dr. Reid was laying on the couch, book propped open in his lap. Emily and JJ were on one side of the table with Morgan and Rossi on the other. The only seats available were towards the back of the plane; I could have sat by myself…or I could sit in the seat across from Hotch.

I always get anxiety about things other people find silly. I’m a grown woman, I should be more confident; I’m a fucking FBI agent for god’s sake. Yet here I was, nervously trying to decide where to sit. It would be weird to not sit near him, I reasoned. Offering Hotch a tight smile before I stored my go-bag, I sat down across the aisle from him.

I fastened my seatbelt over my lap, taking deep breaths through my nose. I had taken my medicine, but take off always got me a little bit, no matter what. I never took a window seat either, sometimes I’d look out and see how fast the world was passing by underneath us and…I shuddered just thinking about it.

"Hey," the voice beside me called, his voice was so quiet I don't think any of the others could hear it. I opened my eyes and turned to face him. His dark eyes looked oddly soft like he was concerned about me. "Are you alright?"

I offered him a tight smile. “Yeah, I’m okay, Hotch.”

"Did you take your medicine?" At my puzzled expression, he clarified. "For motion sickness."

What in the- “How did you know I get motion sickness?”

The corners of his mouth quirked up. “I’m a profiler, y/n, and I’ve been one for a long time.”

A little chuckle left my lips at that, right as the plane started moving forward, gaining speed for takeoff. I closed my eyes, telling myself that it was the impending take off that was causing my stomach to flutter, not the fact that my boss, who I thought was always indifferent to me, noticed me more than I thought he did.

--

Cases with kids were the hardest, there was no question about it. For me, the second hardest cases were women who were assaulted. It filled my gut with such a heavy, boiling rage whenever I thought about it. These women were just living their lives, unaware of the danger that was hunting them. Some fucking monster decided that being a man in our society didn’t offer him enough power; he had to hurt women, try to take their power so that he could feel more powerful.

I had heard stories about Elle Greenaway, the agent that resigned under suspicion that she shot a rapist in cold blood. I never commented on it, but I can’t say as I blame her. That attitude is probably why I don’t comment on it, I thought dryly.

The unsub the team was hunting in Northern Texas was a serial rapist and murderer. He had claimed 3 victims in the past 2 weeks; the locals were concerned that his pattern and level of violence were escalating too rapidly. The BAU agreed.

They started piecing this monster together through the clues he left behind. A white male, mid 30's, has a high-power job, won't be able to have stable relationships with women. They were tracking his comfort zone, interviewing families, and canvassing for information.

My job was to warn the women of this small town that there was a monster lurking in the shadows.

The team was sitting around in a small room in the center of the police station that was crammed with evidence boards. Emily was leaned back in her chair, JJ's head resting on her shoulder. Dr. Reid was facing the map of the county like if he stared at it long enough and answer would just pop into his head. Morgan's head was in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. Rossi and Hotch were talking in the corner, glancing around the room every so often.

Eventually, our leader cleared his throat. "Okay, lets head back to the hotel." At the groans of a few team members, he pressed on. "I know, I want to find this guy too. But we all need rest. We'll come back tomorrow with fresh eyes."

With that, we all headed to the black SUVs parked outside, ready to head to whatever hotel the bureau put us in for the night. The drive was quick, we all stood in the lobby while Hotch spoke to whoever was at the front desk. The conversation seemed to take longer than I needed to.

He walked back over, looking mildly uncomfortable. “There aren’t enough open rooms,” he said at last. “We’ll have to double up.” He held out his hand which contained 3 key cards.

…Wait a minute. “There are 7 of us.”

Hotch nodded. “Therein lies the problem. One room will have to have 3 people.”

I turned towards Emily and JJ, assuming I’d just room with them when Rossi interrupted. “No offense, guys. But…I’m old,” he laughed, his whole face lighting up. “I need my beauty sleep. I’m not sharing a room. I’ll go get my own.”

"They don't have any rooms, Dave."

Rossi looked at Hotch with a patronizing little smile that would have been extremely offensive coming from anyone else. “They don’t have any rooms for you," he clarified. "Not only am I old, but I'm also rich."

Sure enough, he walked over to the desk and spoke to the clerk for less than a minute before he was handed a keycard.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Morgan said with a laugh.

Rossi turned to us then, his eyes filled with poorly hidden mirth. “Sogni d’oro!” And with that, he walked towards the elevators.

“Huh?” JJ asked, her voice scratchy.

“Sweet dreams,” Reid and Prentiss supplied at the same time.

“Right.” Morgan shook his head. “Come on pretty Ricky.”

It hit me right then. Oh hell.

Hotch seemed to realize it at the same time Prentiss did. “Y/n, you room with JJ, I’ll stay with Hotch.”

Somehow this was more embarrassing than the conversation in the bullpen. “No,” I said quickly. “No, you guys go. I’ll room with Hotch.” I put a smile on my face, hoping I was convincing.

“Y/l/n, you just said that I intimidated you.”

Again, why couldn’t the earth just swallow me up? My laugh was forced, but hopefully, they hadn't heard my real laugh enough to know the difference. "Intimidated to go on a date with, Hotch. This isn't like that." Right? “C’mon! I’m sleepy.”

With that display of false bravado, I grabbed a key and made my way towards the elevators. I felt his presence behind me as we walked down the hall towards our rooms. I tried to control my heartbeat, calm my breathing the closer we got to the room. This is ridiculous, y/n. I had shared a room with Morgan before, no problem. I was comfortable around the team, I really was. Not for the first time, I wish I had the sense to not open my big mouth.

I reached for the door right when Hotch cleared his throat; I busied myself with getting into the room, ignoring him. Was it cowardly? Yes. Did I care? Not at that moment.

Until I walked into the room…and saw that there was one bed. Oh, you have to be fucking kidding me. “What is this, a rom-com?” I apparently didn’t mumble that part as quietly as I thought I had given the soft laugh I heard come from the man behind me.

“Y/n,” he said, his hand coming to my shoulder. “I didn’t realize there would only be one bed. Come on, let’s go down to Prentiss and JJ’s room.”

I let out a groan. “Hoooootch,” I whined. “All of this is just making me more embarrassed. This wouldn’t even be an issue if I hadn’t been a dumbass and opened my big mouth. This isn’t a big deal but going to talk to them will make it a big deal.”

He didn't look convinced, but I was so tired. I reached out and grabbed his arm before I could think better of it. "Aaron," my voice was soft, barely a whisper, but it was like he'd been struck by lightning. His eyes snapped up to mine, his lips parted slightly. It was then I realized I'd never called him by his first name before. "I trust you with my life. You'd intimidate me if I didn't know you. But I do know you, Aaron." My gaze never wavered from his.

“Okay.”

--

I laid in bed for 30 minutes pretending to be asleep. I listened to his breathing even out and I kept my back to him the entire time. I had tried to keep my bedtime routine brief, taking a quick shower and changing into my sleep shorts and a baggy shirt I’d had since college. My hair was pulled back so I wouldn’t get it wet in the shower.

The weirdest thing was seeing Hotch in normal clothes. In all the months I’d worked with him, I had never seen him not in a suit. He had a pair of flannel pajama pants on, a gray t-shirt stretched over his broad chest. He has really nice arms, I thought.

When I was sure he was asleep, I rolled over onto my back. My eyes had long since adjusted to the dark, allowing me to just stare at the ceiling.

“You’re thinking very loudly.”

I let out a squeak while my whole body jerked. "Goddamnit, Hotch!” That asshole had the nerve to chuckle. “Stop scaring me!”

“I’m sorry,” he said, not sounding even slightly sorry.

“I thought you were asleep.”

He rolled onto his back; I felt his eyes on my face. “I know,” was all he said.

I sighed, wondering how I had gotten myself into such a situation. “You really don’t intimidate me.” He made a noise which caused me to amend my statement. “Alright, alright. You do intimidate me. You’re just so…stern. And you’re so tall. What is the purpose of being that tall? It’s excessive. And I feel like your eyes can see through every single thing about me. I didn’t know you had muscles until today, but I always assumed you did. They’re very nice muscles-“ I cut myself off. Fuck.

That was the first time I ever heard Aaron Hotchner laugh. Not chuckle, not snicker quietly. He actually laughed. His laugh was a higher pitch than his speaking voice; it boomed out of him and transformed the whole mood in the room. That laugh warmed a part of my heart that I wasn’t comfortable thinking about. A huge grin broke out on my face. I made him laugh, and I was oddly proud of it.

“Thanks, y/n,” his voice was still filled with amusement. “I hadn’t known you were curious about the state of my muscles. You should have just said something.”

My head snapped to the side so my eyes could meet his. He was teasing me. SSA Aaron Hotchner, BAU unit Chief, was teasing me. I lifted my hand to his arm, giving him a shove. His bicep feels like granite. “Shut up.”

That asshat just kept laughing at me.

“Anyway, you do intimidate me,” my voice was soft again. “But I’m not afraid of you.”

Aaron regarded me thoughtfully. “So, it’s not that you’re not attracted to intimidating men,” he surmised. “You’re afraid of men.”

“Not all men,” I countered. “I’m afraid of men like you. Not you, but ones like you. You overwhelm me.”

He was quiet for a few moments. “Y/n…did someone hurt you?”

It was a natural question, a normal thought process; I should have expected the question. I felt tears prick the corner of my eyes. “Yes,” I whispered, feeling safe in the darkness of the room, safe but still so alone. “But not in the way you think.” I filled my lungs with a deep breath, hoping I would find some courage. It wasn’t until I felt his hand brush over mine, his calloused fingers brushing over the back of my hand, that I finally found it. I flipped my palm up and laced my fingers through his. He gave me a reassuring squeeze.

“I’ve had the same best friend all my life,” I began. “She’s marvelous. We’ve always been together; her mom said we were like peanut butter and jelly. I love her like she’s a part of me, Aaron.” I knew he would understand; I just knew it. “We were in college when it happened. We went to this frat party because I had a crush on some guy.” My voice was filled with venom and bitterness. “He was overwhelming, so tall, and so handsome. There was a darkness in him, but I was too young to see it. She did; my best friend could see he was a monster. I didn’t listen.” My breath was shuddering through me. “I didn’t listen to her, Hotch.”

He didn't say anything. He just shifted in the bed and pulled me to him, nestling me into his side, wrapping his arms around me while I laid my head on his chest. "I was so mad at her. So mad." The shame from all those years ago was still so fresh. "She took my drink and threw it on the floor. I told her she was embarrassing me… So, I went outside to get some air."

His arm tightened around me, his free hand coming up to stroke my hair. “You don’t have to-“

“I do,” I said, refusing to let another sob escape. “I came back inside and couldn’t find either of them. I thought maybe she was going to hook up with some guy…but she isn’t like that. She’s never been like that.” My stomach rolled at the thought; sometimes when I closed my eyes I could still smell the beer in the air, I could still feel the wood of the banister under my fingers. “I found them in a room upstairs. He had her pinned on the bed, he was-he-he was trying to take her pants off.” I didn’t deserve the comfort Aaron offered me in that moment, but I clung to him, grateful for it. “I screamed, and I guess I scared him. She kneed him and was able to push him off. We ran all the way home.”

“You saved her, y/n,” Aaron’s voice was so sure, so reassuring, no matter how hard I shook my head ‘no’. “You did. You could have just left; you were mad at her, but you still went back for her.”

I wiped my eyes. “You make it sound so simple.”

His lips pressed softly against my forehead, his hand stroking up and down my back. “That’s because it is.”

--

Things felt different in the harsh light of the police station than they had last night. Aaron was already in the shower when I woke up this morning. I fell asleep in his arms after I told him one of my darkest secrets. He didn't judge me; he didn't tell me I was a terrible person. He just held me; he offered me comfort and made me feel deserving of that comfort.

I dressed quickly and headed downstairs before he got out of the bathroom. My feelings were already swirling around in my head. It wasn’t that I wanted to be away from him, not at all. I just didn’t think it would help my feelings settle down to be confronted by a wet, hot, well-muscled Aaron Hotchner. It was an act of self-preservation if you think about it, I reasoned.

The next time I saw him was when the team was piling back into the SUVs to head to the police station. He offered me a small smile, and I think his eyes may have twinkled a little bit when I smiled back at him a little too brightly.

Profilers.

The team was as refreshed as they could be. Dr. Reid was looking at access and service roads on the map, trying to determine the route the unsub took to dispose of his victims. JJ and Morgan were out canvassing the women's neighborhoods. Rossi was with Prentiss in the sheriff's office speaking with the family of the most recent victim, Bethany Mooreland.

This was the hardest part of my job. I wasn’t a profiler. I felt like I had nothing to offer. I was fielding calls from the media, trying to organize a targeted strategy. The team thought that if the unsub saw that he was being mocked in the press, or his masculinity was called into question in any way, that he would act out more viciously. While acting out might cause him to make a mistake, we couldn’t risk another woman’s life.

The conference room doors burst open, Hotch storming inside with Morgan and JJ hot on his heels. “There’s been another attack.”

I felt my stomach drop. “Fuck.”

“Y/n, she’s alive.”

“…What?!”

The dark-haired man that held me in his arms last night only nodded. “She’s at the hospital. I want you to come with JJ and me to interview her.”

…Me?

--

Summer Webb was 25 years old; she was a customer service rep at a call center just outside of town. She lived alone, had a cat named Pringles, and was close with her family.

I held her hand while JJ and Hotch put her through a cognitive interview. I rubbed her back while she recounted how the unsub only left her because he thought she was dead. Tears ran down my cheeks when she described what he did to her.

Steel and ice ran through my veins when I looked her in the eyes and promised that we would get this monster.

I’d kill him myself if I had to.

Once her mother arrived at the hospital, we left, promising to call with any updates; uniformed officers were stationed outside her hospital door. Hotch spoke to Garcia, then to Rossi, then to Reid, then Garcia again on our ride back. JJ read over Summer’s statement, occasionally jotting down notes.

I was quiet.

Almost. Almost there. I walked into the station without really seeing it. I navigated my way down the hall on instinct. I pushed the door to the bathroom open, looked around to confirm I was alone…then I broke. I placed my hands on the countertop that housed 3 separate sinks, my tears ran down my cheeks and splashed on the fake granite.

I don’t know how long I had been there when I thought I heard a knock on the door. That didn’t make any sense, the door didn’t have a lock; there were multiple stalls in this bathroom.

But I had heard a knock. The door swung open and someone walked inside. I heard him whisper my name, the tone of his voice was so soft, so fucking sad, that it only made me cry harder. Aaron put his hands on my shoulders, turning me around to face him, then letting me collapse against him.

He murmured words I couldn’t understand against the top of my head, he wrapped his arms tight around me; I was sure I would have fallen completely apart if he wasn’t holding me together.

“You must think I’m so weak,” I muttered when my tears had finally slowed.

He stiffened, though his hands never stopped moving, stroking my hair and my back. "Just the opposite, y/n." I pulled back to meet his eyes; I saw nothing but honesty swirling in those dark brown pools. His eyes appeared so dark from far away, almost black. From this close, I could see the subtle shift between various shades of brown. They weren't cold like I had always suspected; Aaron Hotchner's eyes were warm and understanding. They were the eyes of a man who had seen far too much evil for one lifetime but refused to yield his fight for even a second.

I could fall in love with those eyes.

“You’re the furthest thing from weak I’ve ever seen,” he continued. “Your heart is so big that it aches for a woman you don’t even know. It’s alright to cry right now, it’s alright to let yourself fall down for a moment. But I know you, y/n,” he was repeating my words from last night back to me. “You’re going to pull yourself back together. And then you’re going to help us find that son of a bitch before he hurts anyone else.”

Maybe I could fall in love with more than just his eyes.

--

There are certain moments in my life that I will look back on and remember with perfect clarity. That night when I almost lost my best friend, the day I graduated from the academy, the first night I spent in Aaron Hotchner’s arms were just a few.

I would also remember when the call came in from Garcia; how Morgan and Reid ran into the room. How Hotch’s eyes shot to mine when we found out the monster’s name. I didn’t have to ask; he nodded at me, those warm brown eyes were hidden now, hardened by pure ice-cold rage.

I strapped on my vest and road in the back seat in the SUV Morgan drove.

Summer’s monster was named Jeremy Carpenter. Her monster was a white man with brown hair, brown eyes, with a scar on the back of his right hand.

None of us were sure how he knew we were coming, but he had already barricaded himself inside his house. We heard a scream when the first gunshot was fired. I wanted more than anything to bring Summer's monster in alive; I wanted to offer her the chance to face him if she wanted to.

Aaron didn’t ask if I wanted to go to the hospital once everything was over; he really did know me. He took me to see her, he kept his hand on my back while I told Summer and her mother what happened. What I will remember most of all is how her mother hugged me when I told her the monster was gone, that he would never harm anyone ever again. I hit him in his leg; he was in pain before our unit chief put a bullet between his eyes.

We had come to the hospital alone; the rest of the team went back to the station to finish up paperwork. I held his hand on the way back to the hotel; I held his hand while we walked to our room.

I offered him a small smile before I made my way into the bathroom, determined to wash the events of the day off of my skin.

He was gone when I came back out.

--

It goes without saying that I had doubted most men in my life, especially since that night all those years ago.

I never once doubted Aaron Hotchner.

I was sitting on the bed when he came back, staring at the TV without seeing.

“Hey,” he said softly. “I thought you’d still be in the shower.” He set two bags down on the only table in our room. “You haven’t eaten since breakfast. I thought-“

“Hotch,” he looked at me then, his eyes locking onto mine. “Thank you.” I didn’t need to specify for what. He knows.

He pulled our food out while I made my way to the table. I couldn’t hold in my chuckle. “You know I get motion sickness; you know my favorite foods…just how closely do you pay attention to me, Agent Hotchner?”

He didn’t look the least bit embarrassed. “More closely than I should.”

We sat together and ate in comfortable silence. The next time he spoke was to answer a phone call from Jack. I tried to hide my smile while I listened to his conversation. Unlike the rest of his team, I hadn’t gotten to see Aaron Hotchner, the father. What is it about men being good father’s that is so attractive, I mused. Is it biological? I made a note to ask Dr. Reid.

After we ate, he went to shower while I stretched out on our bed, scrolling through my phone. When Hotch emerged from the bathroom he was in another pair of flannel pants paired with a black t-shirt. I pursed my lips in both amusement and disappointment.

“What?” His eyebrow was raised quizzically. Why are his eyebrows hot?

I giggled. "Nothing." At his incredulous look, I amended, "it's nothing interesting."

He sat down beside me on the right side of the bed, his back resting against the headboard. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Hooootch,” I whined, covering my face with my hands. “I’ve already embarrassed myself in front of you enough for one lifetime.”

His hand came up to grab mine, pulling them down from my face. Any attempts I made to wiggle away from him were in vain. Apparently, those muscles aren’t all show and no go. My body had shifted down the bed during my halfhearted struggles, meaning Aaron was now propped up on his elbow, his body angled over mine. “Embarrassed? I don’t remember any embarrassing times,” he pretended to give this some thought. “Unless you’re referring to last night when you mentioned how much you think about my muscles?”

I tried to jerk my arms out of his hands, but he held fast, laughing openly while my face turned red. “Oh, I’m sorry. Were you not talking about that?” He pushed my arms back onto the bed, rising to his knees, positioning his body over me, his face hovering over mine. “Then it must have been when you lied to the whole team a few days ago.”

I squeaked in outrage. “I didn’t lie about anything!”

He was so beautiful when that scowl left his face. “Yes, you did!” he insisted. “You said you wouldn’t say ‘yes’ if I asked you out. And, based on the evidence, I have to say I don’t believe that to be true.”

“Oh, I forgot I was dealing with a former prosecutor.” He nodded gravely, earning another giggle from me. “Okay, counselor. What’s the evidence?”

“The most glaring piece of evidence is you won’t tell me what you were thinking when you were looking at me when I came out of the shower.”

I let out a whine, accepting my fate. He’s literally on top of you, dumbass. Something tells me he’s gonna be receptive. “Okay, okay. I may have…hurried out of the room this morning while you were in the shower.”

Hotch quirked an eyebrow. “I know. Go on.”

“Asshole,” I muttered, delighted when he laughed. Hearing his laugh was one thing, but seeing it too? My insides were basically liquid. “I may have ran as an act of self-preservation. I was…worried that you’d come out of the bathroom in a towel. And you’d be wet, and hot, and I would…make an idiot out of myself, much like I am now.”

Aaron was delighted by how bright red my face turned; he made no attempt to hide his amusement. “So, just now, you were disappointed that I came out fully clothed?”

“Hotch,” I moaned out in embarrassment. He wasn’t making this easy on me.

My eyes were shut tight, my head turned away from him like this would somehow prevent him from seeing me. His left hand lifted from my wrist, his fingers coming to rest on my chin, turning my face towards him. "If you're going to moan my name while we're in bed, y/n, I'd prefer if you called me Aaron." My eyes snapped open. His eyes were still warm, teasing, but there was a certain heat in them I hadn’t seen before that made my lower belly flutter. He leaned closer to my face. “It would be hard for me to focus at work if you every time you said ���Hotch’ I thought about you like this.”

I waited for a few moments for him to act before I realized Aaron couldn’t cross the line first. He wouldn’t be mean if I rejected him; that wasn’t the type of man he was. But the choice was mine; it had always been mine.

I lifted my free hand up to cup the side of his face, urging him closer to me. The first brush of my lips over his was so soft I wasn't sure it was even happening. It was so hesitant but so pure that it made me ache. Aaron pulled back to look at me; he was breathing hard like he had been running instead of just kissing me.

“Y/n…”

“Don’t profile me, Aaron.” I lifted my head, my teeth nipping at his bottom lip. “I want this. I want you.”

His posture shifted, he released my left arm to brace himself above me with his arms caging me in; he moved his legs, wedging one of his thighs in between mine. “I’m not profiling you. I can see how much you want this.” No need to sound so arrogant. “But I need to be sure…I’ve wanted to touch you for so long.”

My hands moved up to touch him, one hand feeling the soft hair at the nape of his neck that was still a little damp from the shower; my other hand gripped his bicep. “Then touch me, Aaron. Please.”

I wasn’t ready for the full force of Aaron Hotchner. He was the most intense man I had ever known, and that intensity didn’t stop in the bedroom. Aaron didn’t kiss me, he tried to consume me. His mouth moved over mine with a carnal hunger that made me throb, shifting against his firm thigh that was rested against me. I was desperate for any friction. I felt his hand move down from where it was cupping my face to rest on my collarbone, his thumb tracing over the base of my throat.

His lips moved off of mine to blaze a path down my jaw, his teeth nipping at the skin there before he moved back to my lips. “Don’t worry, sweetheart.” He pushed his thigh against the seam of my body, causing a whimper to escape from my throat. I didn’t even mind the smirk that covered his mouth. “We’ll get there. Just let me make you feel good.”

I opened my mouth to him; his tongue swirled around mine while the hand that wasn’t bracing him up moved to my hip. His fingers ran over the skin of my stomach that was exposed from my shirt riding up. I placed my hand over his, guiding it further up my stomach; how was I supposed to take my mouth away from his to tell him what I wanted?

Of course, Aaron knew what I needed; I was beginning to learn that he always did. His fingers trailed up my body until he got to the underside of my breast; the callouses that roughened his fingertips were heaven on my overly sensitive skin. My mouth broke away from his in a guttural cry when those fingers finally found my nipple. Aaron moved his kisses down to the side of my throat. I felt his breath against my throat when he murmured, “you’re so sexy, y/n.”

Raising up on his knees, he started tugging my shirt up; I lifted my upper body so I could slide my shirt off quickly. I heard Aaron groan when my chest was revealed to him, but I was on a mission of my own. Once I had his shirt pulled up over his abdomen, Aaron reached behind his back and pulled his shirt off at the neck.

My nails raked down the skin that covered his chest, reveling in the groan that left his mouth. He leaned over me again, his lips wasting no time before they covered my nipple. My hands tried to grip the short hair at the back of his head.

“Aaron,” I gasped out. “I need…more. Please.”

He started kissing his way to my other breast. “What do you need, sweetheart? Do you want to grind against my thigh? Do you need to use me to get off?” His tongue flicked over my nipple. “Or do you want me to use my hand? Is that what you need, Angel?” My heart stuttered at the sweet nickname just as much as it did at his filthy words. “Do you need me to put my fingers in your pussy?”

My thighs were shifting restlessly. “Yes, yes, please Aaron.”

When his mouth closed around my nipple, I felt his left-hand slide down into my shorts, then into my panties. He shifted his wrist, allowing his hand to cup me. He groaned against my skin. "I haven't even put a finger inside of you and I can already feel how wet you are. Your little cunt is just dripping for me.”

I didn’t have a chance to respond before he parted my lips, his finger ghosting over my clit, causing my back to arch off the bed. He smirked but didn’t tease me further; he slid his fingers down to my opening before pushing his middle and ring finger inside of me, using the heel of his hand to grind against my clit. I moved my hand to my mouth, having to bite on my skin to silence the scream that his actions brought forward.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He leaned back, never pausing the movement of his fingers. “Are you trying to be quiet? Do you not want everyone in this hotel to know how wet you are? How desperate you are to have my fingers inside of you?” All I could do was nod. “It’s all right, baby. Once we get home, I’ll hear you scream for me. But for now; be a good girl and try to be quiet. I’m the only one that gets to hear what you sound like when you cum for me.”

I was grinding against him, working my hips desperately, matching his rhythm. I was so close. “Aaron, NO!” was all I could say when he removed his fingers from inside me. The man just smiled at me, looking me straight in my eyes when he put his fingers in his mouth, licking me off of them.

He grabbed my shorts and panties at my hips, roughly jerking them off my body. “When we get home,” he said as he slowly started to push his own pajama pants down. “The first thing I’m going to do is lay on my back and make you put this pussy on my mouth. You taste so good, angel.” His cock sprang free; he was so much thicker than I expected. I was transfixed, just watching his fist pump up and down his hard length. “Will you do that for me? Will you ride my face?”

“Yes,” I was so desperate I would agree to anything in that moment. “I’ll do anything. Just please fuck me, Aaron.”

He used the fingers of his free hand to part my pussy lips again, rubbing over my clit. “I don’t have a condom, sweetheart, but-“

“I’m on the pill,” I reach out to grip his shoulders, pulling him on top of me. “I trust you. I trust you with everything. I need you inside me, Aaron.”

He shoved my thighs open, running the head of his cock up and down my pussy, coating himself in my arousal. He looked up at me again, giving me another moment to back out, before he slowly started to push inside of me. He stroked in and out of me, going a little bit deeper each time until he bottomed out. Aaron’s head fell to the dip of my shoulder. “Fuck,” he whispered. “You’re so fucking tight.” He started moving then. Slowly pulling out before he shoved himself back inside me. My hands were on his back, my nails digging into his skin. I wrapped my legs around his back, trying to draw him deeper inside me.

“You feel so good,” I whisper, biting his shoulder to keep my moans quiet.

Aaron raised up on straight arms, changing the tempo of his thrusts. “You’re not doing a very good job of being quiet, baby.” I whimpered; I couldn’t help it. “I think we might have to do something about that. He quickly pulled out of me; I didn’t have time to complain before he flipped me over, gripping my hips and lifting me up on to my knees. His hand palmed my ass cheek while he leaned over me, his breath hot on my ear. “This is how you need to be fucked.”

Raising up, he lined himself up and slammed inside of me. I bit my lip so hard that I could taste blood; Aaron tangled his hands in the back of my hair, pulling my head up while he set a brutal pace. "Quiet, baby. You don't want everyone to know what a dirty girl you are. Screaming for my cock, so wet that you're dripping down your thighs." His pace didn't slow down; I felt my orgasm rising up inside me. "Touch your clit for me, sweet girl. I want to feel you cum on my cock."

My fingers began circling my clit in a frenzy, causing my pussy to flutter around him. “That’s a good girl. Such a good girl for me. Can you be quiet when you cum? Or do I need to shove your face down in the mattress while I fuck you?” He gave a dark chuckle at my needy whine. “That’s what I thought.”

In the way that he knew everything, Aaron knew when my orgasm was peaking. He pushed my head down, never too hard, but hard enough. I bit the comforter in an attempt to silence my scream. I felt myself clamp down around his thick cock. My orgasm broke inside me so quickly. I screamed his name while I came; the comforter silenced some of it, but he heard it. That scream along with my pussy cumming on him was ultimately his undoing. He gave a few final thrusts before he went all the way, holding himself inside me as deep as he could, filling me with his cum.

I collapsed after that. I had never felt anything like this before. Aaron was there, knowing what I needed even when I didn’t. He held me for a moment until I caught my breath. Then he went into the bathroom, coming back with a damp washcloth to clean me up. He was so tender with my sensitive flesh; he didn’t say anything, he just focused on his task.

Once he was satisfied, he laid down beside me, drawing me into his side just as he’d done the night before. I couldn’t help the dry chuckle that left my exhausted body. Aaron made a ‘hmm’ noise. “I was just thinking about last night,” I said quietly, my voice raw from the screaming I had just done. “You held me like this last night. It was just 24 hours ago, but the whole world feels different.”

He made a noise in the back of his throat that I took as an agreement. After a beat, he said, "well, maybe you won't run out on me in the morning this time."

I looked into his eyes, raising up to press a kiss against his stubbly jaw. “I’ll never run again.”

And I meant it. I could face any monster, as long as Aaron Hotchner was beside me.

[space-blue]

For you @weirdlet from this ask game.

First here are my notes, edited a bit to fit :

Ramson Gimbsey is a Toydarian chef, extremely famous for being a fiery personality who runs several holoshows, including "Hells' Galley". He also happens to be a minor toydarian royal member. Like third cousin to the king or something. If you remember, Toydaria is a very early subject of dispute for The Clone Wars show.

So in this AU, Cad Bane is a Jedi master, training Meeyan as a padawan. He and Kenobi get assigned because the murder is gruesome and sparking a massive diplomatic accident (set early in the Clone Wars).

Ramson Gimbsey was hosting a show event cooking/party night on a small luxury spaceship, lots of big names present. It suddenly it came under attack. I was going to go for a highjacked ship combined with a slug thrown clear through the bulkhead, or whole atmosphere cycled out from the engineering department. At any rate everyone inside is dead and turned into space popscicles.

The Toydarians are still receiving threats from the sepies, so it's generally assumed this is what's going on and this was a direct threat from them, since many people from all over died. There is a lot of dissent within the republic.

SO Bane and Meeyan get sent because Bane is a good "criminal mind" guy, and Kenobi is a great negotiator. Detective and diplomat duo. They also think Meeyan needs to work with Kenobi because Bane is… lacking in the negotiation department, to put it mildly. As an added twist, Meeyan retains her obsession with food in this AU. She was a massive fan of Ramson, and was watching the show live when the attack happened.

Dooku sees the strife and drops a lot of unhelpful comments while admitting to nothing, but it's not the sepies. Bane focuses on the investigation and Obi focuses on the diplomacy. Meeyan would bounce between them as the plot unfolds

Now, I brainstormed the actual source of the thing, and was going to change it as I write, but my dumb ass pantser brain can't get motivated to write something plotted out, and here we are!

Turns out, the actual intended victim was one of the guests directly related to one of the Toydarian ministers. He was drafting huge deals about mining/driving resource on the toydarian moon, and handing that contract to a very big Neimoidian name. When the TCW debacle happened, Toydaria joined the republic and the gov froze the deal with the Neimoidian.

However, that Neimoidian had been buttering that minister and he wants his fucking contract now. As arguments escalated and he made threats, he was dismissed and ignored. So he hired a big time bounty hunter to do the job. It was meant to be a non-Force sensitive Quinlan Vos, who basically takes Cad Bane's place as morally bankrupt bounty hunter in this AU.

Vos decided the best way to make the murder "discreet" yet public was to kill everyone aboard. So now in the background the Neimoidian is like "tic toc, I know where you live", and the minister is desperately trying to make stuff fit for him, while wrestling the investigating Jedi. The call to have the Jedi involved doesn't come from him (either the King, or the Chancellor). When they arrive they can sense something is off with the minister somehow.

We'd have two villains : the mastermind/hidden one, profit driven, and the physical villain, who's good enough to take on Jedi and nasty enough to kill padawans.

I would have made Meeyan dual wield and Bane with a saber staff.

And here's an excerpt for you:

'Mace, before I go, I've got to ask… Is this assignment because of Meeyan?'

'Your padawan? No. She will benefit from learning with Obi-Wan, but she isn't the reason you were selected. What makes you think that?'

'Do you not know? How do you not know?' Cad scoffed, incredulous. 'The child is one overexcited bake-off away from leaving the Order. She's a huge fan of Ramson Gimbsey.'

The news made Mace's eyebrows hitch up in suprise and promptly fall back down in concern. 'Was she watching the show?'

'Yes.'

'I see… That's why you were already well aware of the situation, I suppose?'

'You've got that right. Nothing to take you out of meditation like a padawan screaming their head off.'

Cad grimaced. He was jesting, but Meeyan's shock had been genuine, hitting him through the Force like a slap, and her dismay had lasted longer than would be considered proper. But then how often did you get to see your favourite star murdered live? He'd cut the kid some slack, but he still wasn't sure how she'd take this assignment.

[zebrabaker]

Families Lost and Found

Here we go, a brand new story, ft Jasonette, with a side of badass Marinette.

Marinette had many fond memories of being young. Her Mama singing her ancient lullabies as she combed her jet black hair. Visiting with Aunt Talia twice a year, and meeting her Godson Damain Al Ghul. Celebrating Chinese New Year with her maternal family in China, and being slipped small weapons along with her hongbao, eating jian dui with her cousins in between lessons. Her Aunties teaching her how to use her beauty to beguile and bewilder. Her Uncles showing her how to hold a knife. Her Maa-Maa showing her how to sew hidden pockets into all her clothes, and Ah-Gung showing her the many pressure points on a man that could cripple someone in seconds. Her older female cousins taught her how to use her bu yao as a deadly weapon, all the soft spots on a person that would hurt the worst when stabbed with the sharpened hair ornaments. Her older male cousins lessons were in subterfuge and misdirection. By the time she was seven, Marinette was well aware that most girls her age weren’t taught these things. But hey, Marinette was the next head of the Parisian branch of the Triad. Her younger cousin Bridgette would be her second in command, as she was the daughter of Maa-Maa and Ah-Ghung’s second child, Marinette’s Uncle Lee Cheng. Marinette knew her second and third cousins were scattered across Europe, ruling their branches with a velvet covered iron fist, as they were all taught, by family law.

She had been on her way home from a ‘family gathering’, really just a meeting at the front Cousin Yo owned, a large rental hall that could be equipped for any even. In reality, it was a trimonthly gathering of all heads of the Triad’s French branch. They were all, aside from her and her mother, from different cities across the country. She was almost back to her penthouse when she saw it, a man leaning against the wall of her building and staring at the five star Italian restaurant across the street. The restaurant that just so happened to be her eighteenth birthday gift from Mama, and a front for a smuggling ring the Triad had started almost ten years ago. They didn’t smuggle drugs or guns, but refugees, people who needed a new place to call home for some reason or another. Could he be a cop? Or worse, from the Russians? They had been rearing their heads again, trying to push their experimental heroine blend onto Triad streets, and Sabine had been sure to stomp them into the dust.

Waving her hand nonchalantly, her guards paused, and Marinette advanced on the man. His eyes snapped to hers, and his gaze seemed to bore into her very soul. His hair was peeking out from under a rather beat up beanie, and most of it was black, aside from a few white strands hanging over his eyes. She could see that under his mismatched clothes, he was wrapped like a mummy in bandages.

“Sir, are you okay?” She asked, raising her hands to show she means no harm.

“I... I’m from Talia. She said to find -” He manage to get out, before his eyes roll back in his head and he drops like a brick.

“Boys!” Marinette calls, and her guards, two men from the Italians, ‘gifted’ to her as goodwill gifts on her sixteenth birthday, Tony and Bobby, leapt into action, grabbing the man under the arm and throwing his arms over their shoulders. Marinette grabbed her key card from her phone wallet and swiped it at the keypad that opened the door to the lobby. The building was owned entirely by members of the Triad, filled with families of those in service to the organization. It was securely guarded 24/7, and the higher up in the building you were, the higher ranked you were. Marinette was in the penthouse, an entire floor to herself. Her guards and closest confidants had apartments on the floor just below her. Waving off the doorman, Marinette made her way straight for the elevator bay and pressed the call button for her personal elevator.

The ride was agonizingly slow, but after what felt like hours, the car arrived at her hallway. Digging her keys out of her purse, Marinette quickly unlocked the door and ushered her guards inside.

“Set him on the couch and go home, I need to check him for injuries.” Tony and Bobby shared a discomforted look, but nodded and obeyed her orders. Marinette quickly grabbed her first aid kit from the bathroom, a massive, clunky thing that could probably stock a small doctor’s office for days. When she came back, the man was still asleep on the couch, breathing slowly and deep. Now that she looked him over more carefully, his clothes were clearly stolen, as none of them seemed to fit quite the same. With a sigh, Marinette drew the medical scissors from the case and began to casually cut away his jacket. Underneath that was a hoodie, with presumably another layer underneath. This would take a while. Sighing, Marinette pulled away and threw aside the scraps of material. There didn’t seem to be any blood on him, but she would have to keep going to be sure. After the hoodie came a long sleeve shirt and a tank-top, and he was left coated in bandages from the waist up. He was swaddled like a damn mummy, oddly enough. He had mentioned Auntie Talia...could she have? No, Great-Uncle Ras would never allow some random outsider or underling to be bathed in the pits, he was far too possessive for that.

Right as she started cutting upwards from the hem of the man’s pant legs, he sat bolt right up, gasping. He saw her and scrambled backwards, while Mari just raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him.

“Where am I?” He demanded, eyes darting around the living room.

“Relax, my name is Marinette, and you’re in Paris, in my penthouse. I found you outside, you collapsed. My guards and I brought you in. I started cutting away your clothes so that I could assess you for injuries. I believe you’ve had some experience with my Auntie Talia and her League, and she sent you to find me. She would have said to find ‘she who rises’. It’s the meaning of my name, Marinette. Now, please sit down. I’m not armed, and I don’t intend to harm you. Look, you can pat me down if you need to make sure I’m not armed at all.” The man gave her a wary look, before taking a deep breath and sitting back down on the couch, perched on the very edge of the cushion. Good, Auntie Talia had instilled him with some preservation instincts.

“So, Auntie? I’m going to assume you’re related to Ras and Damain, then.”

“Not at all.” Marinette scoffed. “My family runs the Parisian Triad, and all future heads are trained by the League for a year and a day. Ras trained my mother at the same time as Talia was beginning to train. They consider themselves sisters, making Talia my Auntie. I am, however, Damian’s godmother. He’s a sweet boy, once you put aside the homicidal tendencies. Are you hungry? I can have the place across the street, the one you were staking out, run us some food. Anything specific you want? Their ravioli is to die for.”

“That would...that would be great. I’ll eat anything.” The man (who looked to be around her age, late twenties) seemed caught off guard by her kindness.

“So, it appears you have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.” Marinette commented, texting James, the head chef of Nona Gina’s to bring over her usual plus a plate of ravioli.

“My name is Jason. So, you mentioned the Parisian Triad.”

“Yup. My Mama is the current head, I have a year and a half before I take over. Tradition states I become head on my twenty-fifth birthday.”

“Any chance you’re looking for a new body guard? I’m gonna need to find a job, and I can guarantee that I’m good.” Marinette paused, thinking for a moment. Both her guards were more than adequate, but Bobby had come to her last week, and asked to be transferred to a more sedate job, as his wife (Laura, a lovely woman) had just birthed their third child, and he wanted a little more time off. Jason, on one hand, was likely League trained, and probably had no where else to go. On the other hand, he was a complete unknown, and it would be a week at least before she would be able to contact Auntie Talia and have a response as to whether the man was telling the truth. Well, Bridgette always said she was too soft.

“Good news for you is, I am. You can start as soon as the family doctor looks you over and gives you a clean bill of health. The issue is, what will your cover be?”

“Er, cover?” Jason asked.

“I’m going to need an excuse to suddenly have a random guy escorting me all over Paris, and it’s not exactly common knowledge that I’m the next head of the Triad. I’m also something of a public figure here in Paris.” Marinette blushed at the reminder. Her brand, MDC, had taken off not long after she graduated, thanks to Jagged bragging about her at every turn. “I mean,” she snorted. “we could go the route of claiming you’re my boyfriend or something.” Giggling, Marinette stood and made her way towards her room. “Try to think of something, while I grab a quick shower. I can’t stand family meetings.” Leaving Jason seated on the couch, lost in thought, Marinette shut her door behind her and fired off a quick text to the number saved as “Auntie T’ in her main phone, before grabbing a pair of pajamas from her walk in and heading to the attached bathroom. She had some thinking to do.

[spookysmujer]

No Más, O.Diaz

Summary: Oscars sends you away for the weekend to handle some business, but things seem a little out of place.

warnings: a n g s t

A/N: Ok but I feel like if Spooky has a gf she would be a ride or die type of girl and that’s giving me major ‘03 Bonnie & Clyde vibesss. Thank you for all the love! ❤️ Just hit +750 followers, I’m honored!! Again, I appreciate you taking your time to read my comment. Please don’t forget to: follow, heart, comment. reblog and turn on the notifs for alerts when I post, thank you so much!

(gif belongs to @merakiaes 🦋)

“It’s all about the Valentina, bebe.”

Oscar grabs the hot sauce that you had just placed in the shopping cart a few seconds ago. You let out a tsk as he placed it back on the shelf, reaching higher to grab the biggest bottle of extra hot Valentina.

He lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head as he continues on through the isle. Shopping trips with Oscar always consist of him ‘teaching’ you about the do’s and don’t’s of food/cooking. Which is why you don’t know why you bother joining him half the time.

“Must you run my life in the kitchen too? You already do that in the bedroom.” You pass him as he catches up to you, setting his hands on the bar of the cart besides yours which has your trapped. “And don’t you forget it, mamas. Trust me, Valentina on the raw oysters, as you say, chef’s kiss.”

You face defeat and nod in agreement. The shopping trip being better than usual. Oscar is playing around with you, making you laugh. It would’ve been a perfect trip if Oscar didn’t get a call mere seconds after checking out. Business, per usual. If it wasn’t you he was on the phone with, then it’s most likely gang related.

“Gracias.” He ends the call and unlocks the trunk of the infamous cherry red impala. You both load the car together, you keeping to yourself. The car ride back to his place quiet though he does rest his hand on your thigh, you high-key loving when he does that.

The both of you unloading the groceries and putting them away. Your mouth watering as you seen all the goodness that will be on the grill tonight. A night for just you two, you’ve been looking forward to it all week long.

“Sorry, bebe. I got some business to take care of with Cuchillos. I’ll make it up to you, promise.” Oscar’s voice sounds from behind you as you were gathering all the spices and ingredients he’d need.

You hold back letting out a sigh as you start to set back things in their places. He walks over to you and places his hands on your arms, planting a kiss to your shoulder. Oscar is no fool, he knows you’ve been looking forward to tonight but when Cuchillos calls, he goes no questions asked. Though lately he has been tired of her bullshit.

“I’ll order you some pizza, don’t wait up for me. I love you.”

He kisses your cheek as you keep quiet. He does wait a moment though for any response from you before leaving. When you hear the door close, you look around the empty kitchen, finally releasing the sigh you’ve held in. Though frustrated you didn’t want to escalate the situation, not when things have been going well between the two of you.

After blinking away the tears that began to pool, you put away everything and go for a shower. Oscar did indeed order you some pizza and after managing almost half of it, you turn in for the night.

When you wake the next morning Oscar is sleeping soundly besides you. A sleeping Oscar always makes you smile no matter what the circumstances. You lean over and kiss his cheek and get out of the bed to get your busy weekend cleaning started. It’s the Santo house, it’s never clean for more than 5 minutes.

As you start the day you make sure to make breakfast for Oscar and Cesar for when they wake. It’s rare to see Oscar sleep in but the meeting with Cuchillos must have been a serious one, considering the clock is close to 9:30 am. By the time the morning sun had approached its morning peak, Oscar and Cesar join you in the kitchen and get to grubbin’.

“Mano, let me talk with Y/N.” You hear Oscar say as you clean the counter-top. It didn’t sound like the normal ‘bounce foo’ that he’d tell his brother when he wanted just you and him time. But you carry on with your chores until you feel Oscar beside you.

You rinse the rag and lay it out to dry, turning to face Oscar who is now leaned with his lower back against the counter and arms crossed over his chest.

“Everything go okay with last night?”

“I need you to lay low for the next few days”.

You both say at the same time. You hear his words clearly and your face contorts as you replay what he said in your head and then out loud.

“Lay low?”

Oscar simply nods at you. You cock your head and switch your weight onto your other leg as you look at him for which he still hasn’t look at you yet. There is a moment of silence as you move around the kitchen again before speaking, “Why do I need to lay low? Something going down?”

From the beginning of your relationship you understood that for him, as the leader, the gang comes first and foremost. And so when things like carne asada gets postponed, you try your best to show little to no irritation or displeasure. You knew what you are in for. And yes, he never got you involved with his business, but for him to openly tell you something such as this meant something else.

“You don’t need to know, I just need you to lay low for a bit. Off the streets, maybe stay with Geny and Ruben for a bit. Or it’d be a good time to go visit your moms for the weekend.”

Oscar keeps his eyes trained on beyond you as you stand across him, leaning against the other counter. Eyebrows knitted, he finally looks you in the eyes. He sees the confusion in them, the desperation to know. It gives him the urge to smile a little because in the beginning of dating, you were so clingy to him like a Koala to a tree. You loved being with him, you would whine when you weren’t with him and he can see the worry in your eyes on why he wants you to lay low.

“Why would I need to go out of town this weekend? Oscar, what’s going on, hm? Is everything good with you and the Santos?” You ask stepping closer, still a couple of arms length away.

He purses his lips into a thin line, face contorting to irritation, “You don’t need to know like I’ve said. Can you just give me your word you’ll go?”

Your head tilts to the side as you try to read his face for any signs of anything. Something to tell you more than his words are but he holds the irritation, the one that you know all too well. Your chest rises and falls heavily as you nod, “I’ll go.”

He nods and wipes his hand over his mouth, looking around the almost clean kitchen. Oscar takes the rag and wets it before walking over the dining table to wipe down. It’s not that he never cleans but it takes more than just a desire to clean for him to do so, it takes nerves. It’s more of a distraction for him. 

“I’ll go call my mom and book a bus ticket.” You announce walking over to get your laptop and phone, Oscar continues to clean as you head to sit on the couch and proceed with your sudden weekend trip. Despite your less than thrilled mood about this, your mother is thrilled to be having you. 

When she asks if Oscar will be joining, you sigh and sadly reply it’s just you. As Oscar puts away the last of breakfast he eavesdrops on your phone call.

He can hear the sadness in your voice when you tell your mom that it’ll be just you heading out. His shoulders slump and his breath hitches in his throat. But he is uncertain what the next few days will bring and your safety has been one of his top priorities since the beginning of your relationship. So he shakes any emotions that could get in the way. Sending you off is best.

Unfortunately, the weekend has approached at speed lighting. Oscar parks his car across from the bus station, the two of you exiting the car and he being the kind gentlemen to carry your bag for you. It’s mostly quiet as you head over to the kiosk to print your bus pass. The 4 hour ride mocking you as stated on the ticket. 

The bus is set to arrive in the next 15 minutes or so, though you were smart enough to pack some snacks and drinks, Oscar heads over to the food vendor to get you a breakfast sandwich and a smoothie. 

Again, radio silence as you sit on the bench near the designated spot where your bus should arrive soon, “You sure you got everything?”

“Yup, though really I do have some clothes at ma’s so it was unnecessary for me to pack all this stuff. The only thing I do really need is your flannel so I thank you for that donation.” You giggle as you lean into him and kiss his cheek. You can feel his cheeks rise as you do so. “Which leads me to ask one more time... Is everything okay?”

He moves his arm from behind you and leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, wringing his hands together. A knack of his when he has a hard time putting words together. The only other times you’ve seen him do it is when you both waited for time to move as the pregnancy test loading to determine your results, which was negative, and when he waited in the lobby of the hospital for one of his homies to get out of surgery.

You don’t push for an answer, you give him his space because you can really see how much he didn’t want you to go either. He had to put authority in his voice when he first asked you to lay low. For you, you know that there is more to this than he is leading on. For him, he’s sending you away because he doesn’t where this could all go and in the case that something should happen, you won’t be alone nor will you have to deal with any repercussions.

“It’s all good. Just got some shit to deal with and I don’t need you in the crossfire of it all. It’s the Santos and 19th street, too much to keep up with and the last thing I need is for you to get in the middle of it all. So you heading out of Freeridge will put my mind at ease.” He finally looks over his shoulder and at you, you watch him intently. You rub the back of his head where your hand rests at the nape of his neck,

The buzzing of your phone pulls your attention from him. Though you didn’t want to focus on anything or anyone else at the moment. It’s your mom calling, probably to check in on you if you’ve made it to the bus station alright and are ready for the lengthy commute, “Hey Ma...” You step away and pace talking to her. 

After a quick chat, you hang up and sigh shoving your phone in the back pocket on your jeans. It takes all the strength you had to turn back around to face your boyfriend as you hear the bus approaching. God, this sucks. Oscar stands and holds your backpack in his hands, waiting for you to put it on. You do so and turn around, looking at him and studying his features, reaching out to feel his face. 

“I love you.” Your voice but a whisper as he slides his hands over your hips and onto the top of your ass. The two of you with your bodies pressed together for a moment where everything around you melts away. You aren’t standing in a crowd of people, there are no buses or rancid smell of exhaust. It’s just the two of you. Oscar leans down just as you lean up to connect your lips. Even after many kisses you’ve shared you always smile into it as his facial hair pokes at you.

The chaste kiss is held as you want this moment to last forever, all you want to hear is him to tell you to stay. Fuck all this and stay. Or even forget all this and let’s run away together. Oscar has thought of that one too many times but you can’t run from your problems, it’ll only create more. So you kiss each other and forget that you have to board a bus for just a second longer. You have your hands pressed to the sides of his neck.

He sighs as your lips break apart, his eyes filled with tears. And for this moment he doesn’t even try to hide that he is crying. That only adds to your worries.”I love you, bebecita. Mi vida y mi alma. With everything, mamas. I’ll see you soon okay, first in your dreams and then soon after.”

Your cheeks hurt with how hard you’re smiling. One more chaste kiss and he walks you to the entrance of the bus, you take step up and look back at him. He gives you a side smile as you ascend up the last few steps and the doors close together. It feels like a goodbye, a real one. The one that meant it’s the last goodbye. But you tell yourself to stop thinking the worst as you see him get smaller and smaller when the bus begins its trek.

The cool air gives you chills almost immediately when you settle into your seat. The next stop isn’t for another hour and a half, with the lack of people, there is no body heat making it colder than it would be if more were on. Thankful you took on his flannels so you reach in your bag to get it when your heart stops. The long pause before it takes it next beat. 

His cross chain. 

In all your time knowing Oscar he has always had it on. It’s almost as if it were apart of him. He didn’t even take it off when you, him and Cesar would go to the beach. Or when he’d shower yet here it is in your bag headed 4 hours away from him. You hold it to your lips and close your eyes. 

“What are you doing, babe?” You whisper to yourself.

It takes all your will power, all your self preservation to not ask the driver to stop the bus. To not call Oscar and frantically demand him to tell you what the hell is going on that he needed to send you away with his chain. This just confirms that something is going down, something big. 

Of course, Oscar is a smart man. He knows what he is doing. Hell, he’s been in this lifestyle since he was a young boy. And he has the Santos. This is the same man that walked into Prophet$ territory with 200k to trade for his brothers life. Even then he wasn’t certain he or Cesar would walk out alive. But he did it. 

But he didn’t ask you to lay low then, so what the hell is he doing that he had to ask you to this time?

You take your chances and ring Cesar. Though you are certain that either his brother has told him to keep quiet of the situation or he’s already learned that the rucas shouldn’t be involved. The echo of the ringing is haunting.

“Y/N! Have you left already? Sorry I haven’t been home the last couple of days.” He answers cheerfully, you miss the kid already.

The ease in his voice allows to you ease into your seat, “I did, just left the station awhile ago. I know I shouldn’t being asking, but do you know what’s going on with your brother? He’s told me very little, which again I know it’s how it is but.. should I be worried?”

“Oscar is fine, everything is fine, Y/N. Just as it always is. No need to be worrying.” He reassures you, you body beginning to relax more as you looking down to your hand that is holding the gold and silver chain.

Perhaps Oscar left it with you because he knows how worried you are about him. This being a way to have him with you always even though the little spooky tattoo that rest below your left breast is a permanent reminder of him. You clutch the chain a little tighter, bringing it to your chest.

“Okay, I’ll try to. Just be careful, please? The both of you, okay? I’m trying not to bother him so can you tell him thank you for his chain, it’ll be nice to have with me while I’m at my moms.” 

But Cesar doesn’t reply or laugh and Cesar is the type to be engaged in conversation. As you sit there with the phone pressed to your ear and no response from him, you shoot up from your seat. Your heart begins to race. “Cesar? Wha- why aren’t you saying anything? What?”

“His chain? He gave it to you?” He asks you.

Now your heart is beating triple time, “Uh yeah, well he didn’t hand it to me. He must of slipped it into my bag while we were at the station. I didn’t even notice he didn’t have it on when we kissed goodbye... Cesar, please tell me again that I have nothing to worry about.”

“Just trust that I’ll handle it. I’ll make sure that he is fine, he has me. And the Santos won’t let him get into something he can’t handle. Don’t worry, o-okay?” And for mere second you hadn’t but when he’s voice cracked. You knew that you couldn’t go,you couldn’t leave him.

“Stop the bus!”

taglist: @clemmingstylins0n​ @fairygardenss​ @firebenderwolf​ @spookysnena​ @princesstiffxoxo​

[misssophiachase]

You Make My Heart Smile

So, happy (belated) birthday, Tina @tnapki Your edits make me smile (pardon the pun) and I wanted to thank you for that and everything you bring to the fandom.

I based it on your GORGEOUS EDIT

I also made it about food cause it’s SO you. On AO3 HERE

Also thanks to the gorgeous Kait @an-awesome-wavve for being amazing and my part brainstorm, part beta, part researcher and part undercover partner in crime. 

Renowned Chef Klaus Mikaelson has a bad reputation until he meets food blogger Caroline Forbes and has no idea how to handle her or the unfamiliar feelings she evokes, especially that annoying ability to make him smile. 

3 May - Alinea - 1723 N. Halsted St, Chicago IL - 3pm

“I’m not going to do some stupid interview, you know I have other, more important things to do, right?”

Klaus Mikaelson didn’t do interviews. He didn’t need to because his accomplishments spoke for themselves. He hadn’t slogged away in kitchens since he was twelve and worked his way through culinary school and some of the best restaurants to waste his time. 

Being a world-renowned chef owning not one, but four, three-Michelin-starred restaurants across the globe meant he could do whatever the hell he wanted. 

But yet here she was running his life. 

Still. 

“Like yell at me? I mean, you’ve been doing that since we were little so I guess it’s nothing I haven’t experienced before. ”

“I knew I should have never mixed business and family,” he snapped. “You always throw our childhood back in my face as an excuse to insult my life choices.”

“Because it’s too easy not to,” she pouted, flicking a stray, blonde lock over her shoulder.  “And, while I am unfortunately related to your sorry ass, I am also your publicist and this interview is good for your career.”

“I don’t need publicity.”

“Correction, you do need publicity,” she argued, her fork now attacking the very veal he’d cooked with more fervour than needed. 

“Easy on the product, little sister,” Klaus growled, his protectiveness for his art on full display. 

“Oh, silly me I thought it was already dead,” she shot back, tartly. “And before you interrupted, I was going to say that, yes maybe you shouldn’t need publicity given your career achievements, but that was before you dropped an entree on the food critic’s lap from the Chicago Tribune, fired your sous chef in front of the entire restaurant and insulted Gordon Ramsey on national television.”

“Ramsey is a sell out, I stand by my comments,” he muttered. “The critic had it coming and, now you mention it, so too did that sorry excuse for a sous chef.”

“You realise people call you the angry chef, right?”

“Better than the naked chef I suppose.” He shrugged his shoulders indifferently. Klaus wasn’t in the business for gimmicks or to secure his own cooking program. He took his food seriously and there was nothing wrong with that. 

“At least people like Jamie Oliver,” she replied, arching her eyebrows knowingly. “Anyway, there’s no point in arguing because she’ll be here in five minutes.”

“Please tell me you didn’t just schedule an interview without my permission?”

1717 N. Halsted St, 3:10pm

“What’s with the expression of impending doom, Care Bear?” He asked, lugging his camera equipment as they walked up the block toward Alinea. 

“What have I told you about calling me that?”

“Not to do it but it’s too fun not to, Care Bear.” Given his general maturity level, Caroline decided it was a losing battle and she had more important things on her mind. 

“Anyway, it’s not doom,” she muttered. “It’s just the overwhelming desire not to do this interview but given I don’t want to get fired and also pay my rent, there’s no other option.”

“Is someone afraid of the angry chef?”

“Oh, puh-lease, I’m not afraid. Although, I might not be able to bite my tongue if he decides to insult me like he did Gordon Ramsey.”

Caroline wasn’t one to judge but his indiscretions were well-known and well-documented. Although, chefs with egos weren’t an entirely new phenomenon to the industry or to Caroline given interviewing them was her job.

“You and I both know Ramsey deserved that dressing down, if anything Mikaelson earned my respect that day.” Caroline couldn’t argue with that. 

Although this one was another kind of beast. 

The effortlessly attractive kind. 

For Caroline, this was an unsettling prospect. Until she reminded herself why she was here in the first place. 

Caroline loved food. Sometimes, she thought, more than life itself. 

So, when she became a food blogger after graduating with a journalism degree from Northwestern, it wasn’t a surprise. She was currently the senior blogger at popular food blog Delicious. 

“You love food and writing about it,” Was Enzo reading her mind? “How about instead of focusing on the negative, remember that this will be your biggest interview yet. Think about all of the exposure this will garner.”

The upper echelons of Delicious had decided that an interview with Klaus Mikaelson would be a big scoop. Caroline was all for interviewing chefs about their food and the passion behind it but she knew her editor wanted something less about his craft and more about his bad boy reputation.  

“Yes, but I want to write about food, not produce tabloid fodder.”

“Just think, once you do this then maybe you’ll have enough of a following to start your own blog and write what you want and not what someone tells you to do.”

“Mmmm, you do have a point.”

“Of course I do because Enzo knows everything. Also, take me with you because you’d be lost without me, sweetcheeks.”

“Third person, huh? That ego of yours knows no bounds, Lorenzo.”

“You know it, Care Bear,” he joked, flashing his most dazzling smile. “Well, looks like we’re here.”

“Looks like it,” she murmured, noting the intimidating sign overhead and wondering what she’d gotten herself into. “Here goes nothing.”

3:15pm

“Caroline Forbes?” 

“You must be Rebekah and this is my photographer Lorenzo St John.”

Klaus, who’d been throwing a temper tantrum not one minute ago, found himself looking up into the blue eyes of one Caroline Forbes. Suddenly, all of the white noise of the moment fell away and it was just the two of them in the room together and the blonde in question was looking at him expectantly. 

It was paralysing. 

But good paralysing he decided. 

“Nik?” Rebekah questioned. Now they were both looking at him. Had he zoned out and not realised it?  Well, if so, this was all kinds of embarrassing. “Caroline is the senior blogger for Delicious and she’s here for that interview, you know the one we talked about earlier?”

Yeah, ten minutes earlier, he thought to himself doing everything he could not to bite back in front of the new arrival.   

“It’s nice to meet you Mr Mikaelson, I have to say I’m a big fan of your…”  

“Look, it’s not going to be possible, I have to prep for dinner service,” he lied, although regretted it immediately when he noticed her expression. Klaus wasn’t used to being nice, it wasn’t in his DNA and usually it didn’t bother him. 

Until now. 

Klaus decided to blame it on the foreign feelings she was causing. As soon as he got some distance between them it would be fine, especially that vanilla scent he couldn’t ignore given it was infiltrating his first line of defence.

Klaus liked women, in fact he slept with many when his busy schedule permitted, but that was sex and nothing else. Just the way he liked it, easy and unemotional. 

“Why don’t we multitask then? I’m happy to help. ” Her voice was light and melodic. Klaus was hoping it wasn’t going to sound so enticing. He also wasn’t expecting that response. “I worked in a restaurant kitchen for years, I can do dishes, polish cutlery and peel a mean potato and an onion, well almost without crying.”

Why was he buoyed by that ridiculous statement and increasingly trying not to flash her a goofy smile? 

Klaus didn’t smile. He just didn’t. Ever. 

This wasn’t how he saw his day going at all. He was going to kill Rebekah. Before he could reply, the current subject of his ire spoke. 

“That sounds like a fantastic idea,” she grinned. “How about Lorenzo and I make ourselves scarce then?” 

“It’s actually Enzo, darling, you sound a bit too much like my mother and my oppressive boss Care Bear here.” 

Klaus hadn’t even realised there was someone else in the room up until this point but it was clear Caroline wasn’t too impressed by his nickname or the oppressive part. Maybe they had more in common than he thought? 

Care Bear.  Klaus thought it was adorable. Then he could feel it, that idiotic urge to smile again. 

Before he could object again, Rebekah had made a quick exit with the photographer and she was just standing there. Klaus could feel the awkward tension between them and knowing he’d caused it wasn’t helping matters. But he didn’t know any other way to act. 

Then the words he’d struggled with just tumbled out. 

“How do you feel about fish?”

Not the most suave topic or question but this was his ‘uncomfort’ zone. 

“Depends on the context.”

“The context?”

“I mean, if you think I can clean, fillet and debone a fish, you’ve obviously overestimated my cooking talents.”

Klaus had to practically eat the smile that was threatening to appear.  Again. 

“Everyone has to start somewhere and get their hands a bit dirty, otherwise what’s the point?” He advised. “But, if you don’t want to then…”

“Oh, I never back away from a challenge, chef,” she promised. 

Again, the pesky smile was hovering just beneath the surface. 

Leading her towards the kitchen, Klaus told himself that preparing a fish was definitely going to keep his emotions at bay and also block out that perfume which was throwing him off balance. 

4:45pm

“Why do I feel like this was a ploy to distract me from my interview?” Caroline asked, dipping the fish into egg wash and then flour as instructed by her cooking mentor for the day.. 

This was not how she saw her day going. It was surreal to say the least. This guy was supposed to be an ogre but Caroline was realising he was something else entirely. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shot back. “But you filleted that fish like a professional, maybe you’ve missed your true calling?”

“I suppose I had a semi-good teacher,” she admitted wryly. 

“Wow, tell me what you really think, Forbes.”

Caroline was trying not to to get too caught up in the moment but Klaus Mikaelson had challenged every judgment she’d ever harboured about the temperamental chef.  He’d been unusually kind and patient.

The one thing she’d noticed was that his overall demeanour didn’t match his expression. 

He didn’t smile.

Not once. 

A few times, Caroline could swear it was close or maybe she was just imagining it?

“So, why do you like food?” It was a question she wasn’t expecting. Especially seeing as she was the interviewer and him her subject. 

“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be asking you?” He was silent for a moment, almost like he was contemplating it. “But I get the impression you don’t like that question much?”

“I’d much prefer to hear your story first, call it a warm-up.” Clearly he was nervous and Caroline was happy to oblige if it helped. 

“My grandmother,” she smiled knowingly, visions of her nana filling her head. “When I was younger I’d go to her house most weekends and we’d cook together. She could make anything and everything. She died last year and it’s been tough without her but at least I still have those memories.”

Caroline didn’t mean to get personal, especially with the so-called “angry chef” but for some reason she felt nothing but comfort in his presence, even if he didn’t smile. 

“What was her specialty?” 

“Banana cream cheesecake,” she smiled, the taste of it rushing back in all its delicious glory. 

“Hard to beat,” he murmured. “Have you ever eaten a Bananas Foster? My restaurant in New Orleans does a modern version over flame.  According to my maitre’d there’ve apparently been a few proposals over dessert.”

“Over your dessert?”

“Someone sounds dubious. Let’s just say it’s fireworks but without the danger. Well, unless the tablecloth is accidentally set on fire but the fire department down there are pretty good first responders I understand.”

“I just didn’t take you for the romantic dessert type.”

“I suppose there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me then.”

“So, why do you like food then?”

“Well, of course I like food, I wouldn’t be a chef otherwise,” he shared, moving swiftly in behind her and taking the fillets from her hand and placing them in the hot pan, Caroline was trying not to react to his touch or that welcoming and heady mixture of sandalwood, spices and soap . “But one interview isn’t going to even begin to answer that question.” 

He had a point and Caroline knew it. How could you sum up what food meant to you in one interview?  

“So, what exactly are you trying to say? I do have a deadline to meet.”

“How about we schedule a follow-up interview tomorrow morning? Dinner service is imminent and if you stay I’m going to have to ask you to do more than fillet a fish. My pastry chef Lucien is also very needy, requires constant gratification, and you don’t want to be on the receiving end of that.”

“Not gonna lie I’m intrigued and by that I’m talking about Lucien. Did you insult his choux pastry or something?”

 “Not if I want my patrons to eat dessert this century. But, if you insist on staying, there’s a whole pile of onions there with your name on it and we can call it even.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He raised his left eyebrow by way of response. Caroline was trying to ignore just how good he looked, even if there was no smile forthcoming. 

“Fine,” she conceded. “Tomorrow morning but that’s it otherwise my editor might fire me.”

“Great, let’s make it 10:30, you can poach an egg, right? And I also expect extra crispy bacon.”

Caroline knew she was possibly in trouble and not because he was tasking her with cooking. Enzo would also parrot that particular concern but she couldn’t help herself. 

Today was probably the best day she’d had in a long time and she didn’t want it to end. She told herself that she’d return tomorrow and get her interview, that’s all she wanted from him, right?

4 May - Alinea - 1723 N. Halsted St, Chicago IL - 11am

Klaus Mikaelson was in uncharted territory. 

That’s what scared him the most. 

Caroline Forbes was seated across from him at his best, window table in jeans and a cream sweater, her plate empty and a very full but satisfied look on her face. Klaus decided to add that to his favourite expressions file. It was fast filling up and he’d only known her for 20 hours. 

He wasn’t this guy. 

At all. 

But she’d consumed his thoughts since their first meeting and all night through dinner service and beyond. He’d barely slept, but it wasn’t a bad thing. He’d been looking forward to seeing her as soon as she left. 

The only problem? Not smiling because it was that difficult when she was in his presence. He had his reasons of course. 

“So, why do you love food? And no arguments given I poached a mean egg and also let you have a reprieve yesterday.”

“The bacon could use some work, just saying.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to cook itself yourself, Mikaelson. Are you always such a critic? Last time I checked that was my job. Also enough with the distractions. So?”

“My mum,” he admitted quietly, even if it took a minute or so to verbalise. For some reason her opening up about her grandmother had filled him with courage. He didn’t do feelings or talk about them for that matter. “She cooked with me practically from birth until she got too sick last year.” 

Those last words wobbled, it was unfortunate as it was expected. He’d struggled for a long time and losing his mother had been difficult.  

“What was her specialty?” Klaus recognised the question he’d asked himself yesterday, but the fact her hand squeezed his at the same time filled him with the confidence and warmth he needed. 

“Rosemary braised lamb shanks, it was her favourite protein. I’ve tried to pay homage on all my menus since.”

‘So, that explains the Saddle of Elysian Fields Farm Lamb with Babaganoush, Romano Beans and Harissa Jus on your menu then?”

“You’ve done your homework clearly?” 

“That and the fact it’s the first time I’ve seen you smile, and I have to say it’s really nice.” 

Klaus didn’t even realise he’d let it slip but suddenly it didn’t matter anymore. He didn’t want to hide it, not with her. 

“She used to tell me to smile all the time because I was too serious, you could say it’s something I’ve battled with ever since she passed.”

“All the more reason to smile, even just to introduce those dimples to the general public. Has anyone ever told you they should come with a warning?”

“No, but more than happy to discuss further.”

“If only, but I have to get going.” Klaus felt almost deflated that she was leaving as quickly as she’d arrived. Maybe he’d shared too much. “Deadlines and all that. But if you could just consult the email I sent confirming the details of our interview that would be great.”

Klaus felt disillusioned, he’d opened himself up to someone and she was running away.  She was out the door before he could even move from his seat. Checking his emails was the last thing he felt like doing, but his hand went to work on his cell checking it anyway and dreadfully waiting for its contents.

“As of three minutes ago, I no longer working for Delicious. It wanted a story I wasn’t prepared to write. I like your smile and dimples too much and I also want a Bananas Foster.”

His chest constricted as he read each word and his grin was unmistakable.  It didn’t take long for him to reply.

“You make my heart smile.”

Tabloids would report months later that famed food blogger Caroline Forbes married famed chef Klaus Mikaelson in rural England after proposing over a dessert of Bananas Foster in New Orleans. 

[tres-spades-hotel]

Secret Santa (Eisuke Ichinomiya)

Guess who’s your secret Santa! @leoamber66​ I’m sorry this took forever but I had lots of university work to do! I hope you enjoy Eisuke in this story! I haven’t written smut in years so I might be a tad rusty… enjoy!

Warnings: NSFW, NSFW, and more NSFW

Word Count: 7829

‘This is my daughter Leo Amber. She is the Vice-President of the Avilla Group and Director of Avilla Charity Aids.’ Sandra Avilla calls over a young woman, seeming to be in her late twenties like me. She wore a purple gown and her hair in a fishtail braid.

‘Leo Amber is a unique name.’ I say, feeling the tension in my face as I continue forcing a smile.

‘Haha, yes it is but that is what my late husband named her. He was a lover of astrology and she was born in the Leo star sign. He was hoping for a son to give this name but didn’t want to change it to the female form. So, it stuck.’ She explains. Mrs Avilla is an elderly woman, but only an older version of her daughter.

‘Leo, honey, this is Eisuke Ichinomiya; CEO of the Ichinomiya Group here in Japan.’ Leo Amber stands close to her mother, bowing perfectly to me.

‘Hello, it is nice to meet you.’ She smiles at me and I take her hand, leaving a light kiss on her knuckles.

‘Same to you. I commend you for your work. Millions of families owe a lot to you for your generous charity.’ I comment.

She lifted her eyebrows at me while a corner of her mouth quirked up into a knowing smile.

‘Generous? I suppose it. But it is everyone’s right to live safely and comfortably. My company and I are only ensuring that right is upheld.’ Out of the corner of my eye, her mother looks back and forth between us with a smile.

‘Well, I’m sure the both of you will get along well. Mr Ichinomiya, my daughter will oversee the contract we discussed earlier. Now, if you will excuse me…’ Mrs Avilla practically ran away with the all-knowing knowledge a mother has when it comes to their daughters.

When I look back to Leo Amber Avilla, her face is contorted with mild shock. I hear myself chuckle in response. She turns to me with both annoyance and surprise.

‘What are you laughing at?’

‘I’ve never seen a woman express emotions on her face so innocently.’

‘That’s not fair, I didn’t even know I was going to be here at your IVC until just yesterday.’

‘She sprung this on you?’ I ask, taking two glasses of champagne and handing her one.

‘Yes. I had to juggle my whole schedule because she wanted me to come with her. My mom isn’t very social, so she brings me everywhere to keep her company.’

‘I see. How should I address you, Miss Avilla?’

‘You can call me whatever makes you feel comfortable. Leo, Leo Amber, Miss Avilla, Amber, it’s up to you.’

‘I understand, Amber.’ A faint blush creeps up behind the skin of her cheeks, and for a moment, she looks cute.

‘I hope you’re enjoying the party.’ I ask.

‘Yes, I am. It’s unlike any that I’ve ever been to. And if I’m being totally and completely honest…’ she says, and leans into my ear,

‘It’s the best I’ve ever been to.’ Her words echo while I feel her body heat radiate to the side of mine. Her small hand fits perfectly in the crook of my arm where she holds it to keep herself steady. I can smell a sweet floral scent from her, and I suddenly feel as if only we exist in the world. Amber leans away slightly to look at me.

‘This is what the Tres Spades offers. Quality service. We never disappoint.’

‘And… what about its owner? How is he going to entertain me tonight?’ She flashes me a seductive look, a captivating and interesting woman she seems to be.

‘Play first, work later.’

*

I wake up to Amber in my arms.

The view of New York waking up with me reminds me of how far I’ve come. Ever since my mother died and Eiji was imprisoned, I’ve been on my own. That’s not true. Akira has helped me, and I have repaid all of my debt to him. Then there’s the others. The auction managers who are still here beside me. We all have our own reasons for being together but my relations with all of them have changed since we first met. I will never tell them that though.

I carefully extract myself from Amber’s clutches and wander over to the window. I watch the sunrise as I put my clothes on but stop when I feel a pair of arms capture me in her circle.

‘Good morning. Are you leaving already?’ Amber speaks in a softer voice in comparison to when I met her in the party. She is definitely different to other women born into money and lavish lives. But then again, her father died when she was young, like my mother. She was raised by her mother alone, who had her own problems to deal with. The Avilla Group was steadily declining after Mr Kuroba Avilla’s death. Both women turned the company around and brought about a successful business.

I feel her nuzzle her face into my back. The familiar warmth of her body is calming to me.

‘I’m not leaving. This is my penthouse, you know.’ I see my reflection in the window, a smile that I never knew I could make appears.

‘Eisuke?’ She asks, shuffling around to stand in front of me. She wears my purple shirt like a dress, unbuttoned just enough for me to still see the swell of her breasts. Her hair is a mess, and I can see the faint marks I made on her neck and chest.

‘What?’

Amber smiles.

‘Will you let me make you breakfast? Or coffee?’ I raise my eyebrow.

‘You?’ She giggles at me, reaching up to run her fingers in my hair.

‘Yes, silly! A good, nutritious breakfast is the perfect way to start the day. Everyone needs a chance to relax before getting to work, Eisuke.’ Her thoughtfulness moves my heart more than it should.

‘If you think your cooking skills can match my expectations. And they are quite high.’

‘Oh, I’m sure. Higher than this building, right?’ She winks at me, and stalks off the kitchen in nothing but my shirt.

I follow her, curious to see what she looks like in the kitchen. Amber starts off with cooking eggs.

‘What is on the menu Chef Amber?’

‘Omelettes and savoury pancakes.’

I lean my back against the countertop beside her. She blushes at the sight of me which only makes me more intrigued.

‘Shy? That’s not what you looked like above me last night.’ I smirk at her and she turns even redder.

‘Don’t say it so suggestively! It’s just, you look different right now to when you were in the party.’ Amber whisks the eggs and places a pan on the stove.

‘Different? How?’ I ask.

‘Well… how should.. I… put.. it..’ She says in broken phrases as she attempts to reach some flour in the cupboard above. My shirt rises dangerously high to her hips. I place my hands on her waist and squeeze her soft body.

‘Ahh! Eisuke! That tickles!’ She squirms in my arms as I take out the flour and put it on the table. I can’t help but tease her more, so my hands explore her body underneath the shirt she wears proudly. Her moans echo in the hollow kitchen and I lean down to whisper in her ear.

‘You didn’t answer my question.’ My hand pushes the material down her shoulders, and I nip playfully at the skin of her neck.

‘Eisuke, stop.’

‘Answer my question.’

‘I can if you stop. But it’s not for lack of enjoyment.’

‘Oh, I know.’ I help her fix the shirt and she continues cooking with my hands resting comfortably on her hips.

‘I mean, you seem like you’re the kind of the person to… well, let me rephrase.’ Amber puts the eggs in the pan and carefully drags the mixture to make an omelette.

‘You looked like you were forcing a smile. Do you always do it?’ She looks back at me with earnest eyes, not a lick of lies or fake concern in them at all.

‘That smile is normal for me now. I never tell if I am forcing it or being genuine.’ I don’t know why I confess this to her, but I hear her laugh all the same.

‘For a famous and rich billionaire, I’m sure you’ve had to put up some walls around you. My mom had to do the same when she took over father’s company.’ She takes the omelette out, placing it onto a plate, and makes another batch.

‘I understand. I’m sure you’ve had the intention all along.’ She says. A moment of silence passes between us with only the sound of a bubbling new batch of eggs cooking.

‘Whatever my intentions are, you’ve made me curious. I want to know more about the Director of Avilla Charity Aids.’ She scoffs but lets me see a cheeky smile when she looks back. Her beauty lies in her eyes but also, it seems, in her heart.

‘I hope this relationship will blossom, Eisuke.’ She whispers. I nuzzle my face into her hair.

‘That is what I want right now, Amber.’

After that, we sit in the living room on the couches eating her cooked breakfast.

‘This is good. Not quite chef level material but it’s good.’ I say to her. She decides to sit extremely close to me as we eat. Amber lifts her legs up to rest on the edge and rests most of the side of her body weight on me. Her knees rest on my lap and my fingers absentmindedly stroke her skin.

‘Thank you, I think?’ We look at each before chuckling together.

‘I realise I didn’t really answer your question, Eisuke. I meant that you look natural, now that we’re out of the social setting. You looked relaxed just now in the kitchen.’  Amber tells me. I take a sip of the coffee she made with my preferred amount of sugar and milk. It was adequate but not awful.

‘I see. Building a network of useful connections is most important to me. I feel more myself when I’m here in my penthouse.’ I say, noting the warmth of her body beside me.

‘I see. You know, I’m glad you like the same amount of sugar and milk as I do. I just don’t get people who like weak or strong coffee without any sweetness.’ She says, biting into a piece of bacon.

‘I’ve always had my coffee this way, so you’ve done an okay job.’

‘An okay job? Is that a compliment?’ Her eyes narrow and I laugh.

‘Of course, it is. Better than room service.’ She smiles and looks up at me from beneath her eyelashes. She couldn’t have looked more beautiful than in this moment. Amber puts her plate down on the coffee table and takes my hand, guiding it to rest on her heart. Its fast pulse sets my own ablaze. Amber pulls my head towards her. Her kisses are light and playful, but I make them deeper. My hand grasps her breast, and she gasps. I open her shirt completely and push her gently onto the couch.

Her legs spread open and I fit myself comfortably between them. My hands explore her soft body, taking time to remind myself of last night’s endeavours. Her hips buck up to meet mine, as I push my hips down to her. My lips travel down to her neck, biting the marks I already made. I bury my head between her breasts, enjoying the way she arches her back. While she’s arching, I drag my finger down the indent of her spine and she moans loud, pressing my face deeper into her chest.

‘Eisuke…’

She grabs my hair and tugs at the strands. My hand gropes one breast while my mouth works on the other. Sucking and biting, I savour the feeling of her harden nipples and do the same to the other. In my hand, her breasts are large and soft, squeezing them gives me pleasure.

My hips mimic thrusting and she cries out. Her hands claw at my back.

‘Look at you, wet for me.’ My fingers travel down to toy with her core, roughly rubbing at her clit, spreading her wetness and finally dipping my fingers inside her.

‘Ah! Eisuke!’ She cries out again, desperately holding onto me. I lift myself up to watch her face contort in pleasure. She looks stunning while wearing a shirt which belongs to me. I suddenly feel possessive, wanting to be the last man she gives herself to. I replace my fingers and screams out my name like a chant.

For the first time, I spend my morning without a headache or nightmares.

*

‘What do you think?’ I ask.

‘I think these are really good terms, although I would like to suggest something.’

‘Anything.’

Amber and I sit in the conference room, discussing the contract between our companies. The Avilla Group specialise in the education sector while Amber’s sits in the human rights charity sector. With the Avilla Group, I can expand deeper into education as a private provider. The Avilla’s will benefit from the connection alone, but also have a chance to be in the hospitality sector.

The air of business and tension is a stark contrast to a few hours ago. She was playful and seductive, but now Amber sits in front of me as a Director overseeing a partnership.

‘I would like a small percentage to go towards smaller charities in need of donations. We can choose these between us if you wish.’

‘How much?’

‘10%.’

‘5%.’

‘7%.’

‘Fine.’

She smiles at me and signs the contract and other related documents.

‘I’ll have these sent to your mother tomorrow.’ I take the papers from her and our hands brush past each other. She blushes and I smirk at her.

‘Don’t forget last night, Miss Amber.’

‘I will never, Mr Ichinomiya.’

We leave the room together and she turns to me.

‘Also, thank you for allowing me to host my Christmas Charity Event in your hotel.’

‘You’re welcome. I’m sure it will be successful.’ I say, my hand rests on her waist as I guide her to the lobby. I realised when she came to the meeting that she was wearing purple. Kenzaki teased us about our ‘impeccable coordination’. She said it was her favourite colour.

‘Purple is a royal colour, that is why I wear it.’

‘Because it’s royal? I suppose someone like you would wear purple for that reason.’

‘Oh, really? Why do you wear it?’

‘Because it’s been my favourite colour since I was a kid. Plus, I don’t need a reason to like a colour, thank you very much!’ I chuckle at her ridiculousness and she sticks her tongue out at me.

‘If you like, why don’t you and your friends participate? It will be fun!’ She says, enthusiastically.

‘If you want us to, fine.’

‘Great! Now, I have to get going. I need to update mother on our… partnership. I’ll see you tonight at the event.’ She leans up and kisses me on my cheek, winks at me and leaves. I watch her hair sway back and forth before stepping into the lift.

*

As soon as I enter the penthouse lounge, I’m attacked by the peanut gallery.

‘Boss! How was last night? With Miss Avilla?’ Baba asks, throwing his arm around my neck.

‘Baba…’ I say, glaring at him. He frowns and lets me go, my fingers smooth down the creases in my blazer.

‘Why are you so cruel? You don’t have to act like I’m some kind of parasite!’ Baba wails at me, sinking into a chair.

‘You are a parasite, since you’re elderly.’ Ota says, but is far too occupied on his phone to look up.

‘That’s not even your best insult Ota. What are you doing?’ Baba leans over his shoulder.

‘Among Us.’

Everyone groans.

‘Don’t you know that looking at a screen will make your eyes rot?’ Mamoru says, laying down on the couch.

‘You would say that gramps.’

‘Boss, you didn’t even answer my question.’

‘Soryu, how was the auction last night?’ I ignore Baba and sit down beside him as he puts away his book.

‘Excellent, we made a lot of money. Plenty of the items sold for high prices, even higher than usual since Christmas is coming up.’

‘Boss! Why are you ignoring me still?’ Baba continues wailing.

‘What the effing heck?! Pink you are so sus!’ Ota shouts out.

‘Well, I’ve heard of her beautiful daughter, Leo Amber Avilla. And watched her seduce Eisuke and they left the party very quickly.’ Baba says.

‘That’s enough.’

‘Come on Boss, give me the deets!’

‘No.’

‘Blue you better not kill me!’ Ota shouts again.

‘Shut up kid! Go play elsewhere!’ Mamoru scolds Ota but he sticks his tongue out in retaliation.

‘How was the meeting?’ Soryu asks.

‘Good. Amber signed the contract but made an unusual request.’

‘Oh, so her name is Amber to you?’ I glare at Baba and he frowns, sinking deeper into his seat.

‘What was it?’ Mamoru pipes up.

‘7% of the profit will go to small charities.’

‘Seriously? That’s quite a lot of money right?’ Baba asks.

‘Yes. But it’s for multiple charities.’

‘How kind of her. It is true that her aid is a unique one. That brings us onto her Christmas Charity Event.’ Baba says.

‘She invited us to participate.’ I say, almost begrudgingly.

‘Do we have to?’ Mamoru whines.

‘Yes! Of course, we do Mamo! A wonderful lady has asked us to attend, we can’t turn it down! Many rich and famous people are going to be there to play Secret Santa and other festive stuff.’ Baba says.

‘Grown ups playing Secret Santa? What has the world come to?’ Mamoru says, lighting another cigarette. I watch Soryu’s nose crinkle as the smoke drifts our way.

I wasn’t planning on going. I only offered to host it because it would increase the hotel’s reputation of helping charity, but she asked me to come and I never refuse a request.

‘Do what you want.’ I say, ending the discussion.

‘Ha! I knew you were the imposter purple!’

*

That night, I call Amber before the event.

‘Hello?’

‘Come to the penthouse. 5 minutes.’

‘Wha-‘ I hang up swiftly and look in the mirror. What is wrong with me? I almost feel giddy knowing she is on her way here. The party doesn’t start for another hour, but I wanted to see her again. I check my watch, 2 minutes since I called. I pace up and down my bedroom, watching the sun set behind the skyscrapers of New York. Seriously, what is wrong with me? I never wait for a woman, nor call a woman back. Amber is a business partner, nothing more. So why do I want to see her?

I seem to have drifted off into space because a knock at the door brings me back.

‘Four and a half seconds. You’re fast.’ When I open the door, she stands there, absolutely stunning. Amber wore a sleeveless red dress which accentuated her breasts perfectly. The dress itself is covered in diamonds from the bust down and ends with swirling patterns. The rest is a silk red material, clinging to her figure. A slit up the side reveals her smooth leg, stopping dangerously high. Her red lips look extremely inviting. She wore 6-inch silver heels with a small bow and a diamond in the middle. Her hair is placed in a loose, braided bun and a snowflake hairband.

Amber looks both innocent and seductive at the same time, something that is not easily achieved by women I’ve been with.

‘Fast huh? You didn’t already know that from this morning?’ She smirks at me and I chuckle in response.

‘You don’t look very Christmas-y.’ I open the door wider for her to enter. The sound of her heels tapping on the floor echoes.

‘I’m wearing red aren’t I? That’s Christmas-y. Unlike you.’ She reaches out to fix my collar. Her hands travel down to rest her palms on my chest while my hand rests on the small of her back and pull her gently to my body. The familiar faint blush returns, intensifying the make-up on her face.

‘You’ve covered up my marks on you. Not that well though.’ My finger lifts up her chin so I can get a better look at her neck. Faint purple bruises are still slightly visible underneath her make-up.

‘Well, that’s what a wrap is for. Or are you going to make new ones right now?’ She takes my hand and kisses the pads of my fingers slowly.

I push her up against the wall and attach my lips to her neck, sucking on the delicate skin. My hand slips past the slit in her dress, rubbing the thin fabric of her underwear. I wedge my knee between her legs and pull her thigh up to rest on my hip. She cries out, pushing her chest against mine. I wrap one arm around her waist while the other takes hold of her wrist, pinning it against the wall.

I kiss her red lips and she opens her mouth, inviting me inside. My tongue dances with hers as my hand slips back into her dress, pulling the side of her panties down enough to allow my fingers in. Two fingers sink into her wet heat and she moans into my mouth. The other hand wraps around her waist while her hands clutch my blazer. My fingers begin thrusting and I enter a third finger to stretch her walls.

‘Eisuke! Eisuke!’ She cries out. Amber comes and I hear her pant and whimper in my arms.

Over half an hour later, we’re standing in my bedroom. I fix her dishevelled dress and watch her look over the make-up on the bed.

‘Why do you have women’s make-up in your penthouse? Does someone live with you?’ She asks, looking through the collection.

‘It’s for women who I’ve been with who need to fix themselves before leaving.’ I pick out a foundation matching her skin tone and a foundation brush.

‘Hurry up, you have to be at the event to welcome the guests.’ I leave a kiss on her shoulder and leave the bedroom. Before I do, I pinch her ass.

‘Ah! Eisuke!’ I chuckle and finally leave.

‘This is your fault!’ She shouts out at me.

‘No, it’s not!’ I reply.

*

‘Hello! Welcome, I hope you enjoy!’ Amber says the same thing to everyone who arrives. The event is open to paying guests and celebrities here for the IVC. The ballroom is decorated with Christmas themes: lights, a tree, baubles, tinsel, even the employees are wearing reindeer headbands and Santa hats. Kenzaki is even wearing a red Christmas tie. Baba put a red tinsel around the band of his hat and forced Mamoru, Soryu and Ota to wear Elf hats.

My hand, where it rests against her waist, gives her a squeeze. I lean down to whisper in her ear.

‘I wonder if people will question why you’re limping. Feeling sore?’ I smirk at her and she turns beet red. She jabs her elbow into my abdomen, and I chuckle.

‘If this is a charity event, why are there so many rich guys here?’ Ota asks, finally off of his phone since this morning. Before I can reply, Sandra Avilla walks up to us.

‘That is because the celebrities here are paying to give their money to the charity itself. Amber and I then distribute it to the charities of their choosing. We have already background checked many of the businesses here so none of the money will be wasted and will be given to the appropriate owners. There is nothing more disgraceful than charities preaching responsibility and then keeping the money for themselves.’ She explains.

‘Your charity is really helping people ma’am.’ Baba says, bowing theatrically with his hat.

‘Haha, thank you. It was my husband’s dream to run a genuine charity. I am blessed to have such a wonderful daughter to run it.’

‘Mom!’ Amber blushes by my side.

‘Anyway, I think it’s time for your speech dear. Go on. Eisuke, why don’t you go stand with her?’

‘Of course. Come.’ I walk off, leaving Amber to hurry after me.

I help her up the steps and we stand next to each other at the podium. The cameras begin flashing and the media prepare to record her speech. She smiles at me before turning to the guests.

‘Good evening everyone, welcome to Avilla Charity Aid’s Christmas Event!’

They clap happily along with her enthusiastic tone of voice.

‘First of all, I would like to thank Mr Ichinomiya for allowing us to host this special event here at his amazing hotel.’ She winks at me inconspicuously and I smirk at her.

‘Here at Avilla Charity Aid’s, we aim to give individuals and families their right and provide them with food, shelter and clothing. But more than that, we help to put them back on their feet. I’m sure we all know that it is a cruel world out there. I lost my father ten years ago to cancer and I promised him that I would give help and aid to those who need it. It was always my father’s dream to start this charity, so I took his idea, expanded it, developed it and brought about a successful business which generates plenty of money which we give back. Those of you watching from your homes may be thinking: ‘she’s referring to her charity as a business’, ‘she probably takes the money for herself’. I can assure you all that this is not the case. For the last eight years, I have never touched a single penny coming from those donations and I never will. There are charities out there, sadly, who do exactly that. But every family, every person, has been given their share and their right to live by this charity. This is what our charity provides, and I am proud to be not only the Director of Avilla Charity Aids, but also to be my father’s daughter.’

The audience hang onto her every word, some even wiping their wet eyes. She is passionate about what she does because she does it for family. But she is not quite as naïve as some may think.

‘Christmas is a time for giving, and here at ACA, we hold a Christmas Event for everyone to participate in. All the money that is given will be sent to charities across the globe where our representatives will ensure the money is used appropriately. At this party, all the guests will be entered into a Secret Santa.’

The guests are finally excited. Oohs and aahs ripple through the audience.

‘It is up to you what gift you would like to give but my charity offers guests the opportunity to send money, on behalf of the receiver, to a charity of their choosing. Thanks to the Tres Spades hospitality, I am sure everyone will have a wonderful time. Thank you and merry Christmas!’

Everyone applauds her speech, as unique and risky as it was, and I lead her off the stage.

‘Thank you for the mention.’ I say.

‘You’re welcome. I nearly started tearing up when I spoke about my father.’

‘Do you always speak about him? In these social events?’ I ask, turning her to face me.

‘Yes and no. It is true that this charity was his dream. When he was coming up with the idea and contacting people, he was diagnosed. I couldn’t bear to see his dream crumble, so I picked it up for him. As long as I continue to remind myself always why I did this, then it helps me to keep going. Even if he’s not here with me anymore.’

‘I’m sure he is proud of. Everyone around you is, including me.’ I feel myself smile at her genuinely for the first time in years. When she looks up at with dewy eyes, it takes everything in myself to not pull her into an embrace.

‘Thank you, Eisuke.’

*

‘I am glad that you are my daughter, Leo. Your father is no doubt happy in the sky, knowing that you have fulfilled his wish.’ Mrs Avilla hugs her daughter tight.

‘I hope so. Now, enough emotions. Should we see who we’re all gifting to?’ I gesture to Kenzaki and he brings over a tray with folded pieces of paper on them.

‘Here sir, the results of the Secret Santa.’

Everyone takes the paper with their name on it and opens them up.

‘Oh no.’

‘This.. is not good.’

‘Oooh, interesting.’

‘Welp I guess.’

Three out of four bidders groan, only Baba seems happiest. He clears his throat and holds out his arm for Mrs Avilla.

‘Mrs Avilla, would you be so kind as to go with me on a stroll under the romantic moonlight?’ She laughs.

‘Be careful boy, my husband will rise from the grave if I were to do that!’

I shake my head, wondering why Baba is who he is. But I suppose he will always be a mystery. That said..

Miss Leo Amber Avilla.

She’s my Secret Santa? If she were any other woman, it would have been easy to come up with a gift. But…

Amber is unique. She is not the type of woman to want material gifts. I could just take her to bed again but that’s not a gift. I could just ask her too, but that would ruin the point of the gift. I watch her as she stares at her paper.

‘Where did Baba go?’ I ask.

‘He took my mom outside to walk around the garden. Said it was his Christmas gift to her.’ She shrugs her shoulders at me and flashes me a lopsided smile.

‘Pfft, she will be disappointed.’

Amber giggles sweetly and I can’t help but be entranced.

‘Come, let’s make some connections.’ I hold out my elbow and she takes it. Somehow she fits perfectly on my side.

Amber and I go around, welcoming, thanking, speaking to guests. Nearly all of them complimented our ‘compatibility’. After the party, I bring Amber back to the penthouse. We nearly fell into the living room, stumbling over our feet, kissing each other fervently.

She sat me down onto the couch. I watch as she takes out the pins in her hair, letting it fall perfectly against her back. I take my jacket, waistcoat and shirt off when I hear the familiar sound of a zip falling and watch as her dress plummets to the ground. She takes off her underwear and crawls onto my lap wearing nothing but her heels.

Her lips take mine slowly, as if she is savouring my taste. She cups my face and smiles lovingly at me. I have never been smiled at like she does to me.

Amber pulls my face to her chest, indicating for me to toy with her breasts. My hand fondles them while my face nuzzles against the soft skin of her large mounds. She mewls and lets her head fall back. I push her down onto the couch and lean back to unbuckle my belt.

‘Hmm, this looks familiar…’ I smirk at her and she moans at me, helping me take off my pants and briefs. With her heels still on, I lift her legs over my shoulders. She bites her lip in anticipation as I place my hands either side of her head.

‘Eisuke… please…’

‘Please what?’

‘Please take me. I need you deep inside of me.’

‘Good girl.’ I push my hips slow before pulling out again, teasing her. She gasps and moans in frustration. I push myself inside her fast, hitting her favourite spot deep inside.

‘Eisuke! Eisuke, more!’

I concentrate on her face as I thrust quickly and deeply. Her breasts bounce in time with the pace of my thrusts which only serve to spur me on. She claws at my chest, squeezes her breasts tight, clutches the side of the couch, anything to keep herself grounded. But I want to take her into the sky in pleasure.

For hours, we make love on the couch before I lift her up and we continue in my bedroom. I unbuckle her heels and watch her spread her legs open for me, eager for more. I let my tongue work on her clit, sucking and biting with my teeth, to bring her to a different high. My hands held her bucking hips down while I repeatedly pull away only to dive in for more. She tastes incredible. She cries out over and over again and clutches the hair on my head. My lips travel up her body, over her abdomen, chest and neck to take her lips. Her fingers clutch at the silk sheets and mark my back with her nails. I flip us over so that she is above me and I enjoy the view of her beautiful body while she pleasured herself with me deep inside her.

All night, we desperately chase a high we need to take together. We came again and again together.

While she rests beside me, listening to my erratic heartbeat beginning to calm down, I stroke her head and give her a light kiss on her forehead.

‘I hope you enjoyed it, Eisuke. The party I mean.’ She whispers.

‘I did, only because you made it interesting. Watching you touch yourself was a sight to behold.’ My fingers travel down her back to grab hold of her ass.

‘Eisuke!’

‘I’m glad that you enjoy my company as I do yours.’ I say, climbing on top of her and wrapping her legs around my waist.

Amber looks up at me with a lustful gaze. She pulls my face down for a kiss and I enter her again.

*

Amber left after breakfast for work. We made love in the kitchen and nearly set the hotel on fire. She wore my shirt again, this time tempting me to take her by leaving the shirt completely unbuttoned. She might as well had stood there in nothing but an apron.

It is Christmas Eve. I haven’t got a gift for Amber yet and I am running out of time. Pacing back and forth dealing with email after email won’t help either. I hear a knock at the door. When I open it, Mrs Avilla stands there.

‘Mrs Avilla? What can I do for you?’

‘Oh, please call me Sandra, Eisuke. You’ve been bedding my daughter all this time, there’s no need for formalities.’ She laughs at me as I feel my face burn hot.

‘How did you…’

‘My daughter is an expressive one. She was glowing after she came to tell me that the contract was signed! Now are you going to let me in?’

‘Of course, please.’

She sits down on the couch and pats the spot next to her.

‘Come sit. I wanted to talk to you about the Secret Santa.’ I obey her command, not that I usually obey commands but Mrs.. no, Sandra seems to be a force not to be reckoned with. Just like her daughter.

‘Eisuke, did you get Leo as your Secret Santa?’

‘Yes, I did Although, I haven’t found anything worthy to give her. I don’t believe an expensive necklace or gown would make her happy.’

‘Ah, so you have figured her out, have you?’ She smiles, the wrinkles in her face deepening with kindness I used to see in my own mother.

‘She’s quite a puzzle, but I do like a challenge.’

‘Then, I would suggest taking her somewhere where the two of you can be alone. She treasures feelings and people, not material objects. Whatever affection you can give her, will make my daughter incredibly happy. Especially, if it comes from you.’

‘Sandra, you…’

‘I am a mother. We struggled much after Kuroba’s death. Leo had to grow up and mature very quickly because I was a wreck. I want you to let her be herself. Please, consider it as a request from me.’ She takes my hand and cups it in hers, just like mom used to do.

‘I will. Thank you.’

‘No, thank you, for bringing some life into Leo. Now, I must leave, Mitsunari is taking me to see Ota Kisaki’s art expedition!’

‘Haha, have fun.’

She leaves just as she came in, a hurricane. So, Amber values feelings above all else…

*

‘Eisuke? What are you doing here?’

Amber opens the door, bewildered.

‘Oh? Not happy to see me?’ I lift her chin up to get a better look at her face.

‘I-I’m always happy to see you.’ She blushes again.

‘Why do you blush so much? You’re not exactly innocent.’ I laugh, running my thumb over her bottom lip. She pouts at me.

‘Shut up! What did you need?’

‘Come with me. We’re leaving the country.’

‘What?’

That is how we got here. Within a few hours, we arrived in London. The plane journey was interesting. There wasn’t a moment when our lips were not touching. We seem to crave each other fiercely, more than I have ever felt for a woman before.

‘Did you really book the ENTIRE London Eye?’ Amber gawks at me as we walk into the shuttle, the doors close behind us.

‘Yes. I’m not having other people interrupt us.’

‘You know it takes 45 minutes just to get to the top.’ She says.

I look at my watch, 23:15pm.

She smiles at me and sits on the bench. I sit beside her, and she scoots closer to me, resting her head on my shoulder and holds my hand tight. For a while, we sit in silence and watch the world go by.

‘Oh! I forgot I need to give you something.’ She rummages around in her bag and takes out a gift-wrapped box with a purple bow on it.

‘Here, merry Christmas Eisuke!’ When I take it, she kisses my cheek.

‘Pfft, thank you.’ I pull the ribbon slowly and take apart the wrapping. Inside is a purple thermos mug with the image of the Ace of Spades card in white on it. My name is written at the bottom:

Eisuke Ichinomiya King of the Spades

‘It’s for you to travel with your favourite coffee when you’re out on business trips. You were the name on my paper yesterday. I hope you like it.’ Her thoughtfulness moves my heart more than the moon tonight.

‘My favourite coffee is yours.’ I say, and now I’m only mildly shocked by my words.

‘Really? Thank you, Eisuke. That means a lot to me.’ She beams at me.

‘You mean a lot to me. And I am not going to wait any longer. I want you. All of you.’ I say and she gasps. I kiss her, pulling her onto my lap. Her fingers run through my hair and I pull away slightly so that our noses are still slightly touching.

‘What’s your answer? Tell me quick, I’m not a patient man.’ I smile at her and she blushes. She looks beautiful against the night sky.

‘I want you too. I want to get to know more of the face behind the spade. But more than that, I want you to be yourself.’ Amber leans her forehead against mine.

‘As long as you stay by my side, I will always be myself when I’m with you. I cannot guarantee that we will have a safe life, but I promise to give you all of my love.’

Love.

So that’s what this is. Who would have thought that I would finally find a queen?

I take out a small box from my jacket and hand it to her.

‘Open it.’

‘So demanding. But I like it.’ She smirks at me and opens the box. Inside is a rose gold necklace with my name written in cursive.

‘Now everyone will know that you belong to me.’ I kiss her neck before taking out the necklace and clip it around her neck. She looks down and holds it between the fingers.

‘Thank you Eisuke! I love it. And I love you.’ She wraps her arms around my neck, and we kiss for what feels like an eternity. Suddenly, the sound of crackling fireworks pulls us apart.

‘Oh wow! Let’s have a look.’ She stands up and pulls me to the glass. Red and green bright colours fill the sky. I wrap my arms around her, and she smiles up at me.

‘Merry Christmas Eisuke!’

‘Merry Christmas Amber. This is your Christmas gift because I got you for the Secret Santa.’ I whisper into her ear. She whines at me.

‘I thought you were giving me you for Christmas.’

‘Oh? That can be arranged.’

*

After the display, I take Amber to the Tres Spades hotel.

‘Wow! This hotel is just as amazing as the one in New York!’ She declares, spinning around and taking in the lobby’s design.

‘Thank you. But don’t forget who your attention should be on right now.’ She stops to look at me and I pull her into the elevator which goes up to the penthouse. I press her up against the wall and kiss her passionately.

‘I have never loved anyone like this before. I hope you’re prepared to take all of my love.’ I say between kisses.

‘Ah, I am Eisuke. Don’t hold back on anything, Eisuke. I want all of it.’ She says and I deepen the kiss. We desperately hold onto each other, our hands wandering all over each other. My head dips down to kiss her neck and I grab the back of her knees to lift her up. She wraps her legs around me and when the door opens, I hurry down to the penthouse.

As soon as I lay her down on the bed, I take off her clothes, not leaving a single spot on her body untouched. Her hips buck up. Our lips seek each other as I pin her hands above her head. Her moans are muffled by our passionate kisses. I keep her hips still and enter her core.

‘Ah! Eisuke! Oh!’ I groan at the feeling of her warmth surrounding me.

Suddenly, she flips us over and hovers above me. Amber bites her lip and kisses down my neck, sucking and biting to mark me as hers. She sits up and takes my hands, running them down her body. She sits straddling me and I put my hands on her hips and force her up before slamming her down onto me.

‘Eisuke!’ She calls out my name.

She puts her hands on my chest to keep herself steady as she bounces on top of me. I thrust up to meet her core and we enter bliss together. Her mouth opens wide as her head falls back, a deep and sexy moan reverberates in the otherwise quiet room.

I flip us over and we do it again and again.

Hours into the night, Amber lays next to me, snuggling under the sheets.

‘Let’s make sure that you perfect the coffee before we start travelling.’ I say, pulling her body flush with mine. She tangles her legs and arms with mine under the duvet.

‘Do you mean, that you’ll take me with you on your trips?’

‘If I need to.’ She giggles at me.

‘To be honest, it was hard coming up with a present for you. You’re a billionaire, you have everything!’

‘So why the thermos?’

‘I remembered the first time we had breakfast together. The way you like your coffee is pretty unique and you seemed dissatisfied with room service coffee. So I figured, you could have the coffee with you rather than just ordering it. It’s more environmentally friendly too so that’s a plus.’ She explains, nuzzling her face into the crook of my neck.

‘As long as you’re the one making the coffee.’

‘Of course.’

‘Well, it wasn’t easy giving you a gift either. Your mother is the one who helped me with that.’ Amber whips her head up with shocked eyes. I can’t help but laugh at her adorable face.

‘What do you mean?!’

I tell her what her mother said, and she groans, burying herself deeper into the sheets.

‘Noooooo. I can’t believe she did that!’

‘If she didn’t, we might not be here right now.’

‘I guess so.’ She says, her voice muffled by the sheets. I force the sheets away from her, throwing it on the floor.

‘Eisuke!’

‘You didn’t think we were done did you?’ She smiles at me again. The moonlight shines on her face filled with happiness.

‘Never. You know, this is the best Christmas ever!’

We smile at each other as I lean our foreheads together. This is the most unforgettable Christmas I’ve ever had.

BONUS:

‘What happened?’ I glare at the three bidders who are surrounded by mess. I came back to New York with Amber only to find my penthouse lounge a disaster.

‘Ummm….’ Ota and Mamoru hide behind Soryu who refuses to make eye contact with me. For once, Baba is the only one not involved in the shenanigans since he was with Sandra.

‘Well, Eisuke... the Secret Santa…’ Soryu starts but drifts off, unsure of how to explain.

‘Ota?’ Baba asks.

‘I got Sor, but I didn’t know what to get him, so I gave him a painting of a dog! But then Soryu got angry!’

‘It wasn’t at you. It was at the idiot who I had to give something to. Mamoru started insulting me for giving him a pistol.’

‘I’m a detective! I can’t wander around the city with a gun on me!’

‘I thought police do that?’

‘Shut up!’ Soryu and Mamoru shouted.

‘That’s enough! Clean up this mess!’ I shout at them.

‘Did you see what gramps gave me! Chopsticks!’

‘To eat soba noodles with.’ Mamoru says. I groan and turn away from the destruction that has happened.

‘For once, Baba I’m not annoyed at you.’

‘I know you love me really Boss!’

‘Amber lets go.’

‘Okay… will they be alright?’ She points at the three men who still continue arguing.

‘Probably not.’ I tell her.

‘Baba, make sure this is cleaned up.’ He salutes at me comically and I roll my eyes. Outside the penthouse lounge, Amber turns to me.

‘You’ve surrounded yourself with a crazy bunch of people, Eisuke.’

‘I know, unfortunately. I assume you will make this day better.’ I smirk at her and she blushes.

‘Come on, let’s go to my suite and I’ll make this day much better for you.’ She kisses me before pulling me towards the elevator.

[sondepoch]

Of Flying Spatulas and Cakes Unbaked (Solomon x Reader)

You're not the best at cooking, though you're willing to try. And then there's Solomon, who seems to be pretty decent on his own, though entirely unwilling to put in more effort than necessary. So when you two have to work together to produce some human dishes for Diavolo's retreat, it's feels fitting that you collide in what can only be described as a chaotic tale of flying spatulas and cakes unbaked.

~Oneshot

MASTERLIST

You made toast once.

And if burned coffee counts, that's another 'dish' you've 'cooked.'

But you have a feeling neither of those are answers that Barbatos is looking for, so when he asks you what meals you've prepared in the past, you simply respond: "Nothing, basically."

He flashes you an incredulous look, a disbelieving stare heavy with the implication that you're not telling him the truth to get out of work, but there's nothing else you can say.

It's true.

"Hey, it's not my fault," You grumble, crossing your arms. You don't miss Solomon's amused laughter next to you. "Lucifer never told me I'd be cooking a meal for you guys during this retreat."

Barbatos sighs, shaking his head. He instructs Solomon to watch over you very carefully before agreeing to leave the two of you alone. "I'll check in on both of you later. Try not to burn anything."

"What an ass," You tell Solomon when Barbatos is safely out of sight. He's a supernatural demon, so there's still a pretty good chance that he heard you anyway, but you can't really bring yourself to care right now.

"Aw, don't be upset just because he's better at cooking human food than you, a human, are." Solomon flashes you a knowing smirk, and it really takes every ounce of self-control for you to ignore him and begin flipping through a cookbook. There has to be something in here that you can make, right?

You flip to a page about pasta, figuring that it looks simple enough. Step one: Bring a pot of water to a boil. Step two: Add pasta. Step three: Add salt. Step four: Stir until the pasta has reached a state of—holdup, what the fuck does al dente mean?

You curse inwardly, wishing that Lucifer hadn't confiscated your phone when you entered the Devildom. Your D.D.D works fine when it comes to anything related to demons, but all information about the human world is encrypted with a special password that he never shared with you.

Tossing a glance back at Solomon, you bite your lip at the sight.

The sorcerer is leaning back, one leg propped up on the kitchen wall, scrolling through his phone, while his spare hand is held forward in a casting pose. It glows a light purple, and his magic brings the kitchen to life, pots flying around and knives chopping onions, all without the mage having to do a thing.

Stupid magic, you think. How is it fair that he's managed to tap into his magical strength when you can't even cast a spell? You think back to Asmodeus's words from yesterday. Asmo said that I have so much magical potential, too.

"Jealous?" Solomon asks with his usual aggravating smirk. You hadn't even noticed when he'd put his phone away.

"Of course not!" You cross your arms and glance at the page in your cookbook. You might not know what al dente means, but you can boil water.

"Well, good. Human food is meant to be prepared the human way, not the demon way." Solomon walks forward and glances at the page you're looking at. "Pasta? Well, those demon brothers will probably love what you cook regardless of how basic it is."

You flash an angry scowl his way and ignore him, pulling out a pot and filling it with water. You fiddle with the stove, not quite sure what heat setting to set it to. How long is this supposed to take? You furrow your eyebrows and try to remember something from your fifth-grade Home-Ec class, but your memory fails you. Ugh, guess I'll have to sit here and watch the whole time.

It's only while you're glaring at the lack of bubbles in the water that you recall Solomon's words.

"Wait, what do you mean?" You ask, turning to him. "Human food can only be prepared in the human way?"

"You mean you didn't notice?" Solomon puts down his phone, which he had taken back out after your initial reluctance to talk with him. He seems almost surprised that you're even asking him this question, but he opts not to comment on it. Good choice.

"Demons prepare their food differently from humans. Angels, too. For demons, the quality of their food comes from the quality of the ingredients. If you noticed, Barbatos took nearly two hours preparing the ingredients to their optimal stage...but when it came to the cooking, he just cast a spell and let that do the work."

You let out a small "oh" at Solomon's words. That makes sense, you suppose. "What about in the Celestial Realm, then?"

"Heh, for angels, it's all about the purity of your intentions. When Luke was cooking, he spent most of the time getting ready and stabilizing his mental state. Once he was spiritually balanced, his magic did the rest."

"And us?"

"Well, you know the drill. For humans—the normal ones, who don't know magic, that is—our only choice is to do it the hard way. A great chef will be able to produce excellent results even with average ingredients and a tainted soul. It's all about technique." The mage glances at you, giving you another amused smirk. "Something you clearly lack."

Yep. There it is.

There's the Solomon you know.

"Shut up," You grumble, taking out your frustration on the long strands of pasta as you shake them into a bowl. Your curiosity finally overrides your pride, though, and you turn to him with another question. "So then why are you using magic to do everything? Isn't that not the human way?"

"My food will taste like shit." Solomon smiles. "But that's their problem."

"Barbatos will be furious if he finds out," You warn with a smile, smacking him with a spatula that was flying around in the air. But you have to confess, the idea of pissing Barbatos off is pretty appealing. And if Solomon is the one doing the pissing off, that's even better!

But then the strangest thing happens.

The spatula smacks you back.

You flinch, mouth wide open in shock.

"D-d-did that actually just happen?" You murmur in disbelief, eyes locked on the plastic green-and-white utensil as it flies over to a pan to mix some vegetables.

"Yes. Yes, it did." Solomon stifles his laughter.

"Oh that's it, this spatula is going down." You stomp forward, reaching your arm out. You'll snap it in half, use another knife to chop it into tiny little bits, fry said tiny little bits into some god awful dish, and then you'll serve it to a demon with a flame specialty—so that the plastic in the spatula can spend the rest of its miserable life eternally locked in the fiery and churning depths of a demon's stomach.

Or at least, that's what you would do if not for Solomon holding you back.

"Let me go!" You screech, still reaching for the spatula. "I'm going to kill it! I'm going to make it regret its entire existence!"

Solomon sighs, lifting you up by the waist with both hands. In a single fluid motion, he has you facing your pot of water—now boiling—once more. "Geez, of course the spatula will respond like that. It's being controlled by magic. It has a mind of its own."

"Fine," You pout, tossing in handfuls of pasta. It's all a ruse though. The second Solomon leaves the kitchen, that spatula really will get to experience its own special circle of hell. You'll make sure of it. "So, what? If your food tastes inedible and my food is being prepared by me of all people, what will everyone eat tonight?"

Solomon put a finger to his chin, thinking for a second. "I doubt Barbatos will leave us to do everything. You saw that look on his face, he'll be back here any minute to take control. Knowing him, he'll probably be a better chef than you. Not that that's a particularly impressive feat."

"Shut up! At least I'm trying, unlike you. I'd like to see you make anything better with your bare hands, instead of relying on stupid magic spells."

"Is that a challenge?" Solomon asks with a grin. "If so, I accept." He strolls to the other end of the kitchen and begins preparing god knows what, and you can't help but remember that he's not just an all-powerful mage with 72 pacts; he'd also lived as a normal human. And despite his youthful appearance, he's probably been alive considerably longer than you.

Maybe challenging him isn't the best idea?

You bite your lip, staring at the pasta as it swirls around in the water. You poke it with a ladle, wondering if it's reached a state of al dente or not, before sighing and deciding to wing it. If the pasta is a little on the softer side, that won't hurt anyone, right? Yeah, you think. If anyone questions it, I'll just say that this is how we eat it in the human world.

From there on, you find that cooking is less difficult than you'd made it out to be in your head. The hardest part is when you work on the sauce, because you have to remember to keep mixing it so that the bottom doesn't curdle—whatever that means—but otherwise, making the dish goes by with fairly little problems. In fact, when the pasta and sauce are mixed together and placed on a big plate, the dish actually looks appetizing.

"I'm impressed," Solomon mutters when he sees you taking a picture of it for Devilgram. "But my cake will be better."

"Cake?" Your ears perk up at the word. It's been so long since you've had even a slice of human dessert. Lucifer had bought you a small poundcake for some demon holiday, but you'd offered a piece to Beelzebub and Mammon and before you knew it the entire thing was gone without you having taken a single bite.

"Yup," Solomon says, sprinkling flour into the batter. He mixes it slowly and thoroughly, but you can tell that the texture is still a little off. "Ugh, hand me that spoon, will you?"

You glance around and pick up the biggest spoon you can find, assuming that this is the one he's talking about. But when you go to hand it to Solomon, he gives you a strange look.

"MC, this is a measuring cup."

Oh.

The sorcerer sighs, stretching his arm out. You see the telltale purple light radiate off his arm as he quite literally summons the desired spoon to his side, only for you to yank it out of his hands. "Nope. Nu-uh. No can do, sir. This is a human cake we're preparing, so we are going to be doing this the human way."

You pinch a small clump of flour on your hand and spritz it in Solomon's face as a mock punishment for using magic, instantly reverting to helping him mix the batter. Or—again—that's what you would do if not for Solomon obstructing you.

"Hey!" You shriek in protest when he throws a handful of flour on your face in retaliation. "Oh, it's on."

You grab a tube of frosting that Solomon had filled, probably to decorate the cake with, and smear the pink on his chin, laughing when you realize how much it looks like a little beard.

"What's wrong?" You ask victoriously when he sees himself on the reflection of a metal bowl. "Don't like facial hair?"

"Oh, you don't know what you just got yourself into," Solomon mutters with a scowl, pinning both your arms at your side in a hug-like hold from behind while smearing chocolate fondue on your cheeks. As if that isn't enough, he sprinkles flour over your head, letting it fall and stick to the frosting, teasing you by saying it's "like snow."

"Snow, my ass." You struggle free of his grip and sprint to the small station you'd been working at to cook your pasta. Your eyes scan over the countertop before you find what you're looking for. Perfect! You grab the opened carton, turning around throwing the remnants of heavy cream on the boy following you. The look of sheer horror on Solomon's face as the droplets of white splatter over his black shirt makes it so worth it. "Now your shirt matches your hair!" You exclaim, clapping your hands optimistically.

But whatever eagerness you're feeling is squashed by Solomon's low growl as he uses his magic to transport the entire bag of flour into his hands. "No," You murmur, eyes wide with horror. "No, no, no. Solomon, don't—"

But he moves before you can get your next word out, dumping the whole thing on your head. That's right. The whole. Fucking. Bag.

For a second, you're paralyzed in shock. Even your vision seems a little whiter at the edges, particles of flour dusting your eyelashes delicately. Only Solomon's amused laughter is enough to stir you back into action, and once you start moving, nothing can stop you. "You. Asshole! I. Liked. This. Shirt!" You scramble to where he'd left a carton of eggs, throwing one at him in between every word. Most of them miss your target, but two land on him, the first making a satisfying smack as it breaks on his shoulder and the second one cracking right over his forehead, the yolk running into his hair. You'd been aiming for his face, but seeing the white locks twist into yellow is almost better.

"My hair!" Solomon exclaims in utter disbelief, shocked that you went that far. While he stands gaping, though, you've already found your next target: a plastic bottle full of whipped cream. You press down on the head experimentally, squealing in delight when a perfect swirl blossoms on your fingertips. You lick it, savoring the sweetness, before turning to Solomon. "No, MC." He puts up two hands protectively, as if you'll assault him at any given minute. "Don't do it. We can talk about this, nice and slow."

You pause for a second and give the sorcerer a moment of peace, to rejoice and maybe think that you're not going to rub whipped cream all over his face.

And then you pounce.

In a second, he's on the ground, under you, arms pinned to the floor by your legs as they straddle his upper body. He wriggles under your grasp, writhing desperately as the whipped cream approaches his face until the fluffy white substance has all but exploded over his face, hair, neck, and shirt.

You laugh.

But your mirth is short-lived. Solomon stares at you, jaw dropped in disbelief until you shake the bottle, upset to find that you've actually emptied its entire contents on him. And once shock is no longer holding the boy down, he taps into the demonlike strength he's developed in his many years in the Devildom, lurching forward in an instant.

"You—you—" Your words come out in stutters, forced into an unmoving stupor when you realize what Solomon just did. "You bastard!"

"Not so fun when you're on the bottom, is it?" Solomon smirks, no longer at your mercy. The jerk flipped you! "Unless you prefer it that way?" You force your gaze away from his at the innuendo, suddenly remembering that he spends as much time with Asmodeus as you do. Your cheeks burn, feeling hotter than hell itself, as you realize what a compromised position you're in.

"Aw, is little MC embarrassed?" Solomon continues his teasing, and you pick up a clump of flour remaining on the floor from when Solomon literally poured the entire bag's contents over your head, and throw it in his face. The mage temporarily flinches, but he doesn't give you any chance to escape, taking a moment to wipe his face clean of the everything you'd thrown at him over the course of this mini food-fight.

He glances at the ungodly clump of sweetness in his hands.

"No," You murmur when a devilish smile blooms on his face. You bring up your arms to push his chest away as he leans closer, but Solomon grabs the two hands troubling him and pins them above your head. "Stop! Solomon, don't do it!" But your pleas go unheard and in the end, it's your desperate thrashing that saves you, most of the sugary mix being smeared on your neck and jaw instead of your face.

"Asshole," You seethe when he's done.

"Aw, but you look so cute like this." Your eyes widen at the words, and you can instantly feel the heat on your cheeks intensifying. "So cute when you're all flustered."

"Sh-shut up! I'm not!" You turn your head away from Solomon. For the first time, you're thankful for the chocolate fondue that covers your cheeks. If he were to know just how abashed his actions are making you, there's not a single doubt in your mind that it would simply be used as further ammunition to tease you with.

"You're not?" Solomon mutters, that aggravating smirk still on his face. He leans forward, bowing his head down low until his white locks tickle your forehead. "How about now?"

"N-no," You mumble and look away. You're no Lucifer, but you want to keep at least a little of your pride. But it seems that Solomon takes your words as a challenge, and within seconds he's dipped his head even lower and his lips are on yours—sweet, covered in frosting, and soft.

You gasp at the contact, not expecting this of all things...but it's strangely pleasant. And a quiet voice at the back of your mind tells you not to pull away.

But then Solomon leans his head back up and his smile is even more exasperating, so before he can get a single teasing word out you pull your head off the ground and capture his lips once more, leaning back when his mouth curves into a smile. You can't suppress a small grin from forming on your own lips when Solomon's grip around your wrists loosens, still leaving a hand to cage over them but bringing another frosting-covered one to slide into your hair. It makes for a nice pillow between you and the ground.

Your smile widens when you feel Solomon's daring tongue dart at your lips, a flirtatious summon for more. More of the moment, more of this, more of you. And suddenly, it doesn't even matter that the two of you are covered in the ingredients of the cake that will now go unbaked. Because Solomon's lips are on yours and you're both breathless and it's hot and sweet and it feels invigorating.

There's not a doubt in your mind that the two of you would enjoy the moment far more—you eventually do, in the privacy of closed doors—if not for Barbatos's sudden appearance in the doorway.

Your breath catches in your throat.

The demon's gaze doesn't land on you immediately, much to your chagrin. His olive eyes first scan over the kitchen countertop, the ripped-open flour bag, the spilled carton of heavy cream, half-empty tubes of frosting, and the hideous mess of food that covers nearly every inch of the floor. He glances nervously at the oven, which is still on but thankfully devoid of any burning food that might ruin the dinner.

And it's only then that his stare fixates on the two of you: frozen mid-makeout, covered in frosting, whipped cream, and flour. You tense under Solomon, feeling his muscles stiffen in turn, both your eyes locked onto the demon in front of you.

"...I suppose you'll want me to believe that this is part of the cooking process?"

MASTERLIST

Word count: 3.3k

Notes: This was inspired by the fact that Solomon's smile in the game always looked more like a devilish smirk~ I feel like he'd be such a brat x3 one of my all-time favs tho

Comment & Like

I do not own the rights to Obey Me! or any of the characters within it.

[rumpledgoldenweaver]

A Weekend Away

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling February prompt “I think we’re lost”. Also @fluffapalooza if it’s still open :) Read it on my blog: https://earlyrisingwriting.home.blog/2021/02/14/a-weekend-away/

An opportunity arises for the Gold Boys to spend time together away from Storybrooke’s prying eyes.

Malcolm Gold – he’d adopted his son’s cursed surname, Stiltskin didn’t seem right, it only served to remind him of the anger he’d felt when naming his baby boy. He didn’t want anything to do with the name Peter Pan any more, Gold was a fresh start – was beginning to rue the day he’d agreed to joining his rapidly expanding family for a weekend at Rumple’s forest cabin. It’s like the tree houses in Neverland Neal had explained but on the ground. It’ll be fun Papa, his son had told him through obviously gritted teeth, Malcolm hadn’t missed the discreet elbow to the ribs Rumple had taken from Belle as she’d added that it would be an opportunity to talk away from the scrutiny of the towns folk. Henry had kept a commendable straight face at that remark considering she was referring to at least half of his family. Malcolm liked Belle. She was honest, trusting but not to be crossed. Just what his son needed to keep him in line. It was mainly because of her he’d agreed to come along.  

Malcolm had also been grateful to Belle for her advice regarding clothing in this new land. Although Rumple’s suits looked sharp, he didn’t want that many layers. Neal’s clothes were a bit too casual so he settled on trousers Henry had called Chinos, shirts with buttons, thin jumpers and boots called Timberland. Today he was particularly glad of the boots. Rumple had used magic to transport all the necessary clothes, food etc to the cabin, leaving Malcolm, Neal and Henry free to arrive on foot. Henry had been so excited at the thought of a hike through the forest with his Dad, no one had the heart to object.

“I think we’re lost” Malcolm tried to get his bearings however the trees all looked the same, he had no idea how far into the the forest they were.

“Lost Boys” sniggered Neal. Henry snorted which made his father laugh even more.

“Following the leader, the leader, the leader” sang Henry “We’re following the leader…”

“Wherever he may go” Neal joined in, the two of them dancing round in a circle.

“Very funny”

“You have no idea” laughed Neal “Have you seen the Disney film about Peter Pan yet?”

“The what?” Malcolm was still bemused by the popular cultures of the world he now lived in even though he’d got a better grasp of how it actually worked.

Henry grinned the kind of wicked grin Rumple would have been proud of “You’ll love it Gramps, especially Hook”

Neal’s eyebrows rose at the use of Gramps in relation to Malcolm

“What? I call Rumple Grandpa and Malcolm didn’t like Great Grandpa so Mum suggested Gramps”

“Which Mum?” though Neal had his suspicions

Henry didn’t answer but the glint in his eye was enough. Emma had an evil sense of humour.

“One of you must have been to this cabin before?”

“Neal shook his head “I arrived in town not long before the trip to Neverland but Papa and I weren’t exactly on friendly terms back then”

“I haven’t been either, I didn’t know Grandpa was my Grandpa and my mums weren’t about to let me hang out with The Dark One”

“Wonderful”

Neal looked around for minute or two, then as if some secret signal had been given he made an abrupt turn and set off down a path “Come on. It’s this way”

~

“Rumple will you please stop fussing. We have enough food to survive a small siege. There is no need to summon more”

“Have you ever fed a twelve year old boy? If his appetite is anything like Bae’s at that age then…” he felt a lump rise in his throat.

“Rumple?”

“Then I want to make sure there’s plenty”

“Oh Rumple” she hugged him hoping to both reassure and pull him out of this melancholy. He pulled her closer, nuzzling her hair, whispering a thank you sweetheart. Belle moved to kiss him and for the next couple of minutes there was a feeling of peace between them.

“Hi Grandpa Hi Belle sorry we’re.. oh…” Henry looked embarrassed at interrupting.  Belle giggled, Rumple never even turned round as he replied “Hi Henry”

“Are they here?” Neal’s voice carried through the door.

“Er...yes…they are.. here…”

“Is something up?” Neal strode into the living room and stopped dead “Oh for pities sake you two get a room!”

Rumple did turn this time “This is my cabin Bae and my room”

“Not in front of the wee ones eh Laddie?” Malcolm chuckled.

“Indeed”

“Rumple..” there was a warning tone to Belle’s voice “remember what we talked about”

“Hmm”

Ever the diplomat Henry piped up “Is there anything to eat? I’m starving”

“Yes of course Henry” smiled Belle “in the kitchen”

The young boy disappeared, returning within five minutes carrying a plate loaded with burger, fries, onion rings, various dips and salad. Rumple gave Belle a told you so look.

“He obviously appreciates his food” Malcolm watched in amusement at Henry giving the burger his full attention.

“Takes after his father” Rumple nodded towards Neal as he too went to the kitchen and brought back a plate piled high.

Conversation remained light hearted as they ate, comments about both Neal and Henry having hollow legs because of their hearty appetites. Rumple found he was nearly enjoying himself. Nearly being better than not at all as Belle reminded him earlier.

“Where on earth did all the food come from anyway?” Malcolm asked as he debated which of the many desserts to try.

“I summoned it” Rumple replied reaching for a cupcake.

“Magic” Neal raised a suspicions eyebrow.

“Only to bring it here. It’s not magic food. I’ve paid Granny’s chef triple his wages to cook a steady supply especially for us”

“Fair enough” Neal took a satisfied mouthful of cake.

“More tea anyone?” Belle stood up and began collecting the various cups and mugs strewn around the room

“Coffee if you have it please”

“Of course Bae, I’ll put the pot on. Coffee has it’s own magic Dearie” he twirled his arms, turned on his heel and practically skipped out after Belle.

The expression on Henry’s face was priceless.

~

When everyone had eaten their fill, plates, cups and cutlery washed, dried and put away by hand not magic Rumple keenly pointed out, Henry suggested they watch a film. Malcolm being particularly interested in the idea of a a “moving book” being shown on something called a TV screen. Then began the debate over which one to put on. Whilst there wasn’t a great deal of choice amongst the DVD’s at the cabin, Rumple would be happy to summon whichever was decided on. Mostly it was left to Neal and Henry as they had the widest knowledge of such things. It seemed to Malcolm to be a very complicated process.

“Nothing over a PG”

“Awww Dad! I’m twelve! I can watch..”

“No. Your Mothers would find a hundred ways to kill me, bring me back to life and kill me all over again if they found out you’d watched anything remotely inappropriate”

“Grandpa would protect you”

“Oh no no no” laughed Rumple “Do not bring me into this. I argued with both of them over many things but even I have limits”

“What about that.. Disney thing you mentioned on the way here? Would that be allowable?”

All eyes turned to Malcolm.

“You mean Peter Pan?” Henry looked sceptical.

“Yeah.. that. I’d like to see it”

Rumple and Belle exchanged a look before he got up and went into the main bedroom. There followed the sound of keys turning in locks and a safe being opened.

“You keep Disney DVD’s in a vault Papa?”

“Along with a few other items I was unsure about at first yes”

“Such as?”

“Such as none of your business son” he walked back into the living room brandishing the disc “You can do the honours Bae”

It could, Belle mused to herself long after everyone else had retired for the night, have gone a lot worse.  For instance everyone agreed that the physical resemblance between the cartoon and the person was actually rather accurate. They had all laughed like drains at Captain Hook. Belle honestly thought she’d have to give medical attention to Rumple and Malcolm as their hysterics gave way to mighty coughing fits. Neal and Henry sang along with the songs, Never Smile At A Crocodile didn’t go down very well with Rumple at first but he saw the funny side in the end. When it came to Following The Leader, the youngest father and son immediately leapt to their feet and began dancing round the room in a repeat of their antics in the forest earlier.

“So that’s where that song came from” groused Malcolm.

There seemed to be an unspoken agreement to not discuss certain details regarding film versus real life, for that Belle was grateful. She knew the relationships in that room were complicated, messy, quite possibly very unhealthy and could keep Archie Hopper on Rumple’s pay roll for decades. Whilst she believed talking about these issues was healthy, this weekend was not the time or the place. For once no one was arguing, for once certain townsfolk weren’t around to stick their well intentioned (or otherwise) noses in. She wondered if inviting her own father for a weekend here might help ease tensions between him and her boyfriend. Maybe leave it a month or so before she suggested that.

“What are you smirking at?” Rumple came from the en suite,  pulled the bed covers back and climbed in bed beside her. Her eyes gleamed with mischief.

“Don’t you dare Belle” he warned, which was the wrong thing to say because of course she dared.

“Never smile at a crocodile..”

“I’m warning you young lady”

“No you can’t get friendly with a crocodile…” she sang between giggles.

“Right then”

And he proceeded to show her how friendly crocodiles could be when they wanted to.

[rebsrams]

Cinnamon Girl (Ethan x F!MC)

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Rebecca Valentine)

Warnings: none. Don’t really know what this is, though. Not fluff, not angst... It just came to my mind as it is. 

Summary: Rebecca totally loves cinnamon. Ethan remembers everything about her and treats her to a hot drink in a cold November afternoon.

Prompts used: #8. Buying them something unrequested because it made you think of them. Took it from this amazing prompt list over here.

Word count: <1k

Song: Cinnamon Girl by Lana Del Rey

There were things capable of driving her utterly mad.

Anyone who knew her well enough could know that she had an incredibly resilient self-control, but when it came to certain matters, she just couldn’t resist.

Most of the time, at least.

Sometimes she was forced to keep a straight face and stay focused, for her and her job’s sake.

For example, there were days in which being able to keep her mouth or even her eyes from Ethan’s stunningly sharp jawline was draining all the energy out of her.

And she was known as an-incredibly-filled-with-energy girl.

Ethan knows better, she thought mischievously to herself, leaning on the cafeteria table, shaking her head as if to reject the thought that was slowly creeping through the depths of her mind.

But still, there was something that in 28 years of life couldn’t resist once.

She liked, to put it mildly, cinnamon.

Every morning she took her coffee double, with no sugar, covered in frothed milky foam with two or three sprays of cinnamon on top of it all.

Ethan knew this, too.

She remembered telling him once, while tasting his coffee and regretting the decision shortly after.

“You know, you’re the one who should try what real coffee is. What’s in this thing anyway? Lemon?”

“I bet your tastes will improve with time, Rookie. What do you usually drink anyway? Unicorn latte with stardust sprinkles?” he arched an eyebrow, waiting for her to answer.

“Negative. No sugar at all, actually. Double coffee, just to be sure my brilliant mind doesn’t have the yips during the day”

At that point, she winked at him.

He rolled his eyes, but was unable to contain a low chuckle coming straight from his broad chest.

“Then, you cover everything with frothed milky foam and then, just then, you complete your masterpiece with a pair of cinnamon sprays. Perfection.”  She continued, sending him a chef’s kiss.

“I think I always underestimated the power of cinnamon. I should definitely re-evaluate it.”

While saying these words, she noticed he was looking in a way that vaguely recall fondness and longing at her hair, tucking a strand of it behind her ear.

“The Power of Cinnamon. I like it. Think I officially found the title for my recipe book.”

She said, mostly to break the tension between the two of them.

Awaking from her reverie, she took her phone from the wide pocket of her white coat and decided to exorcise her penchant once and for all.

She opened Pictagram and posted a pic from that morning, her usual breakfast in a cute striped mug that Elijah gave her last Christmas.

Letting out a sigh, she was storing her phone back in her pocket when it buzzed, revealing a Pictagram notification from @drethanjramsey, commenting on her last upload.

At first her heart remained stuck in her throat, as every single time he approached her, virtually on in real life.

It wasn’t the first time she almost unconsciously regretted the insane idea she had of putting him on social media.

One of them being, for example, a couple of weeks before, with him posting thoroughly good looking pics of him, on a boat, shirtless and glittering from the little drops of salty water scattered all above his torso, glowing under the sun beams.

Plus, they still had not defined what exactly was between them and the thing was frustrating her immensely.

With all the problems they were facing, the upcoming ending of Edenbrook on top of them, it seemed like it was the last thing to think about.

Or, at least, for him.

She, for her part, spent an entire evening cursing him for posting the infamous boat pics.

And the night that followed, she was still cursing him.

On his bed.

She shook her head vehemently, focusing on the notification on her phone.

This time, he just commented with two simple words, “Hold still.” 

As if she had another way to go.

She let out a long sigh, trying to clear her mind out of every thought regarding a certain tall and dark doctor, only waiting for her lunch break to inevitably end and her day to slip back into routine.

Except that, for what she could see from there, standing at the entrance of the cafeteria was the statuesque figure of Dr. Ethan Ramsey himself, hair lightly disheveled from the windy drizzle outside and scarf securely tied around his neck, also keeping his mouth and nose from the bitter cold.

She could definitely tell he was holding something still in his hand, as to protect it from the blowing wind that was becoming to rage outside.

She couldn’t see what exactly was, though.

“Ethan Jonah Ramsey’s delivery at your service, ma’am.” He said in a thick british accent, sliding a cup of coffee to go across the table and making her heart jump.

The unmistakable and heavenly smell of what the cup contained made her senses stir, making her inhale sharply, closing her eyes in sublime contentment.

What could possibly be more satisfying than having a cup of cinnamon latte on a cold November afternoon?

She opened her eyes, instantly founding the answer to her question.

Ethan was sitting across the table, a slight smirk on his lips after seeing her reaction once she smelled the nectar from heaven he brought her.

She startled just for a second, trying to regain her composure.

“You didn’t have to. Didn’t think my post would actually look as a real distress call. Thank you, Ethan.”

“It was no bother. I was just about to order mine, you know that I usually prefer not to drink the dirty water they serve in here.”

She took his still cold hand lying on the table and gently caressed inside his palm with her thumb, the soft strokes sending waves of affection through both of them.

After quite some time, the realization of them being in a public spot of the hospital kicked in and he took his hand back with a cough, moving the attention on the coffee once again.

“I’ve decided to try it too today. Who knows I may not find another drink to treat myself to after sixteen-hours shifts.”

She smiled weakly, still dizzy from the warmth that his hand was beginning to spread through hers due to their brief contact.

“Long live to cinnamon!” he said, raising his cup way too ceremoniously, the gesture almost making him look comic.

There were so many things she wanted to toast to.

So many things she just wanted to say.

But she knew that there were moments meant to be left alone and just kept, stored safely in her heart’s folds.

As I said earlier, I don’t really know what this is. Maybe just my personal Ode to Cinnamon.

Anyway, hope you like it! This Pictagram thing really amuses me a lot, I have more fics in store featuring PG screenshots and shirtless pics of our beloved Dr. Ramsey.

Also, I’m looking forward to use as many autumn related prompts as possible until November comes to an end. Write me if you have any suggestions!

P.S.: That’s really the way I drink my coffee each morning. And, just so you know, Ethan didn’t like it one bit. But he loves her like crazy, so who actually cares?

taglist: @openheartfanfics​, @choicesfan10​, @schnitzelbutterfingers​ 

(please let me know if you want to be added/removed from this list!)

[phantoms-lair]

MSA Secret Santa

@accidental-child

Arthur sighed, leaning against the steering wheel of the van. The bus was a little late, but that wasn’t unexpected. Not out here at any rate.

There was a small selfish part of himself that wished he hadn’t picked up the phone that day. It was selfish - and ridiculous. The call had been at the garage, he needed to answer those calls!

It had been some great Aunt, or far removed cousin. He wasn’t quite sure how they were related. Apparently her son was originally going to spend summer break with one of his friends, but their trip had been cut short. The problem was said parents and their daughter had already made other arrangements and wanted to know if the aforementioned son could stay with Lance.

The problem was, Lance wasn’t there and wouldn’t be for a while. He was off on a road trip with some of his old buddies from his days when he absolutely positively was not a wrestler. It was a well overdue vacation and Arthur wasn’t going to call him back from it.

But something stopped him from just turning her down. It wasn’t her, but… it was the idea that their current plans ‘couldn’t be altered’. Lance had planned his trip to originally be last year, but he’d dropped everything after Arthur had turned up in a hospital without an arm. Also that they were reaching out to family that wasn’t that close at all made Arthur wonder if the closer relatives had also had plans that couldn’t be altered. It stank too much of no one wanting this kid, and damned if he was going to add to that

So here he was, waiting for a cousin he’d never met who’d be spending a month with him. He didn’t think it would matter so much if he wasn’t the age he was - 18. Younger would have been easier to slip into a child-guardian relationship and older meant this wouldn’t have been an issue in the first place. But 18 was an age of feeling you were coming into your own authority, and much more likely to take onus with someone a mere five years older than you being in charge.

The bus pulled up and Arthur braced himself. Two figures got off the bus, his cousin and...a dog? A rather large dog at that. Something else Aunt Wendy had forgot to mention. Hopefully it was good with other dogs and hamsters.

Pushing his misgivings aside, Arthur left the van with a big welcoming smile. No need to borrow trouble till it was here. “Hi, you must be Norville, right?”

The teen winced. “Like, call me Shaggy please. I hate Norville.” 

“Done and done.” Arthur agreed readily. “The name Norville is thus dead and shall never be spoken from mine lips again.”

“Ri’m Scooby Doo.”

Another talking dog, huh. “Just to make certain, you’re not actually an ancient kitsune with an evil Japanese tree after you?”

“Like, not that we know of?” Shaggy looked confused. So did Scooby so Arthur let it slide. 

“Okay, let’s get some food, and we can figure out stuff out.” Apparently he said the right word, because his cousin and dog perked up a lot. “Let me help you with your bags.” “Is your arm metal?” Shaggy asked, surprised.

“Sure is, made it myself.” Arthur wiggled his fingers at him, inwardly bracing himself. “That’s cool.” Shaggy said earnestly, picking up his other suitcase.

No ‘How did that happen?’ or ‘That must be so terrible’? Okay, thus far Arthur was counting this as a win.

~

“So,” Arthur started as they slid into a booth at Pepper Paradiso, “Let’s go over your options.”

“Options?” Shaggy asked, surprised.

“Yeah, you have two main options, and we can tweak them as need be. The first is what I told your Mom. You come to stay with me and my boyfriend and girlfriend. We’ve set up a spare room for you, and Scooby I guess, sorry no one told us he was coming.” “If you’d prefer not to deal with three people being kinda mushy, or just want more privacy  I’d give you a key to Lance’s place. You could stay in my old room and basically have the house to yourself. I’d still be checking in everyday and making sure you had food and stuff, but other than that, you’d be on your own.” 

Shaggy seemed to think a moment. “You have a boyfriend and a girlfriend? You can do that?” “Yes.” Arthur answered simply.

“Okay, like if it’s all the same, man, I’d rather stay with you. I don’t think me or Scoob want to be alone.”

Arthur tried not to take it as a warning sign. True, most teens would jump at the first chance to be on their own, but that was hardly universal. There was a small feeling that something was wrong, not just parental negligence. What, he didn’t know. And truthfully it could be nothing. Arthur had a tendency to jump to worst case scenarios (catastrophizing, his therapist had called it), so for now he’d wait and see.

“So is this the mysterious cousin?” Mrs Chef Pepper came over, winking .

“Yeah, this is Shaggy. Shaggy, this is one half of the best cooking team in Tempo, and honestly Texas.”

“Flatterer. My name’s Carmella Pepper. My husband’s running the kitchen, so I have the front end today. I assume the usual, Arthur?” “With no Cayenne additions, please.”

“She’s banned from the kitchen after the last hot sauce-strawberry shake.” Carmella assured him. “What about you, Shaggy?”

Shaggy looked at the menu. “Like, could Scoob and I each get a ‘Vivi Special’ “ he pointed to the menu.

She raised an eyebrow. With the exception of its namesake, the Vivi Special was usually ordered to be shared by a family. She’d never seen an order of two of them. “Do you want the plate of spicy chorizo or pancake poppers?” Scooby and Shaggy looked at each other. “One of each please. And, like separate checks? Mom set up an account for me for food and stuff.” Arthur tried to hide his relief. One extra mouth he could feed. Two more Vivi appetites would have strained his budget beyond feasibility.

~ “Lewis, Vivi— we’re home!” Arthur called, letting himself and his two guests in.

“Welcome home, Arty.” Lewis greeted, pulling his boyfriend in for a kiss. “So this must be Nor-”

“The name is not to be spoken. It has been cast into the abyss and replaced with Shaggy.” Arthur said with a completely straight face. “It has become one with the void.” Lewis rolled his eyes. “Sorry for the melodramatic one, I’m Lewis. Lewis Pepper.”

Shaggy shook his hand while Arthur sputtered over Lewis calling him melodramatic. “Pepper, like the people who run the restaurant?” “My parents.” Lewis explained.

“Wow, like they’re great cooks, man. It’s the first place me and Scooby found that we could be full off one thing on the menu.” “If you can call the ‘Vivi Special’ one thing.” Arthur quipped.

“Someone call me?” Vivi slid into the front room, literally, her socks holding no traction on the hardwood floor, causing her to crash into Lewis. “Arthur’s cousin Shaggy is a fan of your addition to my parents menu.” Lewis said.

“Ooooo Did you get the version with the spicy chorizo or pancake poppers?”

“Like, Scoob and I got one of each. I really liked Aztec Chocolate sauce on the sweet chili!”

“I know! And the smoked gouda filled jalapeño poppers!” 

“Arthur, I think our girlfriend just adopted your cousin.” Lewis commented.

~

Vivi stretched as she got home from her morning shift at the Tome Tomb. Arthur was having a full day at Kingsmen’s, so she figured she’d check in on Shaggy and Scooby before getting in some serious cuddle time with Lewis.

She found them in the living room, Shaggy was looking at a book. Not reading it, but staring at the cover, while Scooby leaned against him comfortingly. “Everything okay boys?” She asked softly.

Shaggy took a moment to answer. “Do you believe in this stuff? Magic and monsters?” “As a matter of fact I do.” She tried to keep the humor out of her voice. Shaggy had no idea he was spending the remainder of his summer with a ghost and a kitsune. “Do you?”

Shaggy didn’t answer. “Doesn’t it scare you?” he asked.

“The supernatural? Not really. Or at least, not more than anything else.” She sat down next to him. “There’s good and bad magic, just like there’s good and bad technology. Some beings are friendly, some just want to be left alone, and some are truly evil, just like people. You always, always, have to be careful. But I’d rather know, you know?” Shaggy shook his head. “Like, I think I’d rather not.” He looked at the book again. “Like, have you ever heard of something called the Chest of Demons?”

“Not off the top of my head, why?”

Shaggy shook his head. “Nothing, like what’s for lunch?” Vivi accepted the topic change, but didn’t forget what she’d heard. This merited some digging into.

~

Arthur felt dead on his feet (though not quite as much as Lewis, ha!) as he got home that evening.  Working in the garage was one thing, but running it was quite another. He couldn’t wait for Lance to get back.

It was Vivi who greeted him at the door, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing him. Arthur melted into the embrace, the warmth he felt in his heart giving him back the strength spent on budget balancing and unruly customers.

But as he felt himself relax, he realized she wasn’t easing up. Something was wrong. “What is it, Vi?”

“Your cousin.” She answered, her head still buried in the crook of Arthur’s neck. “He was looking at my books and mentioned something called the Chest of Demons. I hadn’t heard of it, so I sent out some feelers.”

“Bad?” Arthur guessed, as if the name didn’t give that away.

“Not just the chest itself. I still don’t know what it is, because one of the few things I did manage to learn is it’s protected by near total secrecy. It’s not something he could have just randomly heard of.”

Arthur’s mouth set into a grim frown. He could think of a few reasons, but none of them were good.

“And this isn’t some random client messing with something he shouldn’t, he’s your cousin and I like him, but this is serious.”

“I’ll talk to him.” Arthur promised. 

“No!” Vivi squeezed him tighter. “I don’t want to think he’s up to anything bad, but-” Honestly with how Shaggy had reacted to ‘Magic and Monsters’ she doubted it, but she couldn’t be sure and she wasn’t willing to put any of her boys in the path of danger.

Arthur laid a gentle kiss on her forehead. ��You can have one of the Beats watching over us if it makes you feel better, but we can’t leave this alone and he’s nervous enough I don’t want him to feel like we’re ganging up on him.”

“That still puts you at risk,” Vivi argued.

“There’s always a risk, love. And you can’t take all of them for me. And I think this is a small one. Have you talked to Lewis yet?”

“Talked to be about what?” Lewis popped his head in. “You guys were taking a while. Is everything okay?”

“Shaggy may or may not have gotten mixed up in something supernatural and I want to talk to him about it. I want to do it alone so I don’t overwhelm him, but Vivi doesn’t want me to go talk about an evil artifact with the person who brought it up by myself. I volunteered to take a Beat with me.” “Take Mystery too.” Lewis suggested. “Shaggy likes him, so he wouldn’t feel ganged up on.”

Vivi let out a sigh of relief. “I love your Deadbeats, Lew, but I feel a lot better about that plan.”

~

“Hey Shaggy,” Arthur sat down. Mystery curled up by his feet, looking innocuous, but keeping a careful eye on Shaggy and Scooby.

“Hey,” Shaggy didn’t look up from the video game he was playing. “Like, how was work?”

“Not too bad. Can we talk about something?”

“Sure, man.” Shaggy paused the game. “What’s up?”

So many questions ran through Arthur’s head. Why do you know about the Chest of Demon? How did you find out about it? How much do you know? But there was one question he felt the need to ask above all the others.

“Are you in any danger?”

Shaggy blinked, caught completely off guard. “Huh?”

“You brought up something called the Chest of Demons to Vivi today. She did some digging. It was bad.” Arthur kept it vague to hide how much he didn’t know. “It’s also not a name you’d just stumble on. So, are you in any danger?” Shaggy deflated. “Like, not right now. Probably later. Thirteen seems to be keeping a low profile, but given the other twelve? At least Boggle and Weird are sealed up.”

Okay, Arthur didn’t understand any of that after ‘Probably later’. “Can you start at the beginning?”

“Okay, so like originally the five us were supposed to spend the summer on a global road trip, but Fred and Velma ended up going to camp, so like it was just me, Scooby, and Daphne. And we kinda sorta got lost. We ended up in the place where the chest was hidden. There were these two ghosts, Boggle and Weird. They wanted the thirteen evil spirits in the chest free, but it can only be opened by the living. So they tricked me and Scoob into opening it.and setting their masters free.”

Shaggy then rolled his eyes. “And of course only the ones who open the chest can return them, so like, suddenly we’re chasing down the nastiest ghoulies this side of the River Styx. We got the first twelve and got Boggle and Weird sucked in for good measure but with no sign of number thirteen Vincent cut us loose till he finds him.”

“Vincent?” Arthur inquired.

“A mystic who knows a lot about the Chest of Demon and it’s prisoners. He’s been helping us.” Shaggy shrugged. “Daphne suggested continuing our vacation while we’re on break, but I just kinda wanted to go home.” “Did you tell your family any of this?” Arthur wondered.

His cousin snorted. “Besides you? Like no one would believe me! And Daphne….” Shaggy trailed off.

“And Daphne?” Arthur prompted.

“It sounds weird to say, but this seemed to be, like, good for her? Before she kinda followed whatever Fred said. This summer though, she was taking charge and becoming more confident in herself. And like, I’m happy for her, but it means-” Shaggy seemed to struggle for his words, Scooby putting a reassuring head on his knee. “I’m a coward. I’d rather run from scary things than fight them. And I know I have to get them back in the box, cause it’s my fault they’re out-”

“Rour fault,” Scooby corrected.

“-but I’m scared all the time and I don’t want to be and no one but Scoob seems to get that.”

“Of course you’re scared,” Arthur scoffed. “You’ve had thirteen evil spirits after you. That’s objectively terrifying. You’d be crazy not to be scared.”

Boy and dog seemed taken aback.

While he couldn’t say he had been expecting those details, at least this lined up with what Arthur suspected, that Shaggy had stumbled into trouble, not sought it out.

“Okay, so first things first, what do you know about Spirit #13? What kind of spirit is it?” Arthur’s voice was all business.

“Not yet, Vincent usually tells us about them as he finds them.” Shaggy explained.

“If you can contact him, see if you can find out what we’re dealing with. It’ll be more effective if we can narrow that down.”

“What will be?” Shaggy asked, confused.

“Protective wards. That reminds me. Lewis, Vivi, Shaggy has a potential evil spirit after him. Brainstorming time.” “Huh?”

Lewis and Vivi showed up a bit too quickly to not have been listening in, but Arthur hoped Shaggy wouldn’t notice.

“There’s already some basic wards against hostile entities on the house, Pepper Paradiso, Lance’s, Kingsmen’s, and the Tome Tomb.” Vivi listed.

“I’ve got a few things around town warning me of anything of any level of power entering.” Mystery put forth. “It’s only weak spot is the lake.”

“Which has a protector of its own.” Arthur had a wry grin. “Nothing coming in from that side.”

Shaggy and Scooby shared a confused look. “You guys had this already set up?”

“You get surprised by a Jubokko once, you take precautions.” Vivi said dryly. “But this is all general stuff. The more specifics we know, the better defenses we can make. We can also figure out what places near your home we need to ward, or come up with something portable.”

Shaggy just looked between the four of them, confused. “Why?”

Lewis took a deep breath ( or at least mimed doing so). “Shaggy, you’re Arthur’s cousin, do you know what that means?”

Shaggy shook his head.

“It means you’re family,  you’re our family. And we protect family however we can.” Lewis stated. “And we know monsters exist. We’ll be ready.”

Shaggy seemed at a loss for words. His mouth opened and closed a few times. “Thank you,” he finally whispered, his voice raw with emotion.

Arthur pulled him into a hug. “That’s what family does.”

[motleycrueroadie]

Along for the Ride (pt. 4)

Thank you again to anyone that has been taking the time to read this! I love writing it!

One I Two I Three 

Tonight being Friday, I fully expected the diner to have more people than usual but I hadn’t expected to be sweating an hour and a half into my shift with no end in sight. Even though Tiff’s is on the Sunset Strip, we were not the “happening” place on Friday night. This coupled with the manager’s inability to pay anymore than he had to, meant that the diner was only ever manned by two people: a chef and a waitress. For some reason, Tiff’s was swarming with people tonight, so there were only a few booths that were vacant at this hour. I’ll chalk it up to the fact that everywhere else was occupied and I was blaring our prized jukebox with quarters that I got from tips. I needed a continuous loop of upbeat rock to get me through tonight.

 Despite the newcomers, there were a few regulars that came to the diner every weekend after the shows. My regulars were a group of teenagers, buzzed in every sense of the word, who came by consistently for greasy food to satisfy their munchies before stalking off into the night to do whatever it is they did. I would give them credit though, they tipped me well and had never caused trouble in the diner, so I always turned a blind eye to their underage drinking (they loved slipping vodka into their sodas). However,  I made sure they all had at least one glass of water before they left. I hadn’t seen them yet  tonight, so I was beginning to wonder what kind of trouble they had got themselves into. 

“Janis!” a slurring voice called out, exaggerating the N in my name. Looking over my shoulder as I grabbed some meals from the window, I realized I spoke too soon. My regulars were coming in the door and headed for their favourite booth. Daniel, the one who had called my name held the door open while the rest of his group entered. He haphazardly wandered over to the jukebox while I carried the food from the window over to a table. Placing their food down, Daniel called out “What do you want to listen to Janis? My treat, anything you want!” 

I had to laugh at the kid while I continued whizzing around the diner, he did this every time he came in. 

“You know what Danny boy, I’m feeling some ZZ Top tonight.” I said to him as I rang in someone’s bill on the cash register, “In particular, Tush.” He looked up from the jukebox, raising his eyebrows to indicate he had found some sort of “hidden message” in my request. 

“Not yours Danny boy, I might as well be your older sister.” He just nodded to himself, knowing I was right. Popping in the quarter, he headed back to his friends. 

“Poor kid thought he had a chance there didn’t he?” said a familiar voice. None other than Nikki Sixx was at the opposite end of the counter from me. 

Nikki must’ve noticed the sudden head turn in the direction of his voice, “Is that a look of surprise on your face Joplin? Did you forget I was coming?” I shook my head at him, reaching under the counter to grab a clean rag. 

“Didn’t hear you come in, rock star,” I said while turning on the tap and letting the cold water run over the rag. “I just can’t believe I missed you coming, what with that beautiful mess of a nose you’ve got going on.” Pointing at the dried blood mixed with fresh underneath his nose, he reached up to rub it with his hand. 

“I thought I cleaned it up,” he mumbled to himself as I handed him the rag. I lightly snickered at his comment as I motioned to a booth near the jukebox. 

“I’m a little backed up at the moment, so have a seat at the booth right there and I’ll come get some more details from you in a moment” he looked to where I was motioning and back at me nodding. I started to hand him a menu when he opened and closed his mouth before opening it again. 

“Do you have a newspaper?” I knitted my eyebrows together before replying, 

“There’s a stand near the entrance” He nodded to himself before taking the menu from my hand and heading over towards the newspaper stand. As I rounded the counter to head towards Danny and his group, two people walked in the door - a tall lanky young guy and a shorter gal. 

“Take a seat where you can find one and I’ll be with y’all in a moment!” I called out to them as I passed. 

“Well kids, will it be the regular order?” I asked as I reached their table, knowing the answer to my question already. Danny nodded to indicate a formal decision while the rest of them barely acknowledged my existence. I knew that if I was to try and take an order other than the regular, that it would be like herding cats. Instead of waiting to hear if there was any opposition, I winked at Danny while heading back towards Carlos to give orders and prep drinks. 

“I see your friend is back mija, he better not be looking for free food here too.” Carlos gave me a side eye while he focused on the grill. In response I rolled my eyes at him while starting on the drinks and grabbing menus for the new people that came in.

 Carlos was a little old fashioned in that he made assumptions based on appearance. He thinks that Nikki is a stray that I’ve brought in because I felt bad for him.  I don’t think I made that any better when I told him that I had been having Nikki over for dinner, but Carlos was a little wayward in his assumptions. He wasn’t wrong in thinking that Nikki was a stray, but I don’t think he realized that I was too. People only know as much as you tell them, and I don’t particularly enjoy being vulnerable around others, so I tend to keep some information close. Carlos and I had been working the night shift together since I started at the diner, so I trusted him with a tad more information,  enough so that he knew what I did outside the diner but that was it. I didn’t let Nikki this close into my life because I felt bad for him, I just related to him. Initially, all I had known was that Nikki and I were both out here on our own so I wanted to know him better, except I kept the wall up. Despite this, he was the one to initiate a deeper conversation by asking about my folks today. Nikki put me in a vulnerable state and I wanted to back out even though I knew it wasn’t an option. You can’t unshare what’s already been in the open. Nikki dove in head first to this new information by sharing his own vulnerability with me. Him and I were both strays, so how can you feel bad for each other? You don’t. You just let the other know they aren’t alone. Once you know you aren’t alone, you can be comfortable in the face of discomfort.

I returned to my table of regulars with their drinks in one hand, and a promise that their food would be out within the next 15 minutes. As I rounded the diner to head to the table of newcomers, I noticed one was missing. The tall, lanky boy. He wasn’t hard to miss considering his height and the fact that he was currently at Nikki’s booth. As I passed by, I glanced over my shoulder to see that Nikki wasn’t entirely thrilled with the conversation. Looking back over to the girl, I could tell she was a little annoyed with the situation so I slid into the booth across from her. This way she couldn’t continue to glare at her date.

“You plan on having something to eat tonight sweetheart? I’m sure it’s on his dime.” She looked at me now instead of through me. I watched her turn the idea over in her brain before shaking her head. 

“Can I at least get you something to drink?” I asked while she continued to look disappointed. 

“You know what? I would actually really love a root beer float.” I smiled up at her, liking her choice in drink. 

“I’ll see what I can do about getting your date back over here” I said while getting up before continuing, “That is, of course, if you would like him to come back?” She laughed at me while she nodded her head. 

“Yeah I would like it if he came back” I laughed with her as I moved along to the table with her date and Nikki in it. 

“Sixx, can I make the safe assumption that you would like a Jack and Coke to start off with?” Nikki looked up towards the sound of my voice while I approached the table, nodding as I stopped next to the lanky kid. 

“Can I get some blueberry pancakes?” was the greeting I received from the kid, who had yet to make a good impression on me. 

“Sweetheart, what’s your name?” I asked him as he looked up at me confused. If there was one thing I know from working in the service industry, it’s that sometimes people need to be reminded to use their manners. This kid looked to be around my age, so I was going to feed him the lesson straight. No pussy footing around. 

“Tommy” I smiled at this, a childish name that fit the youthful energy and forgetfulness. 

“Tommy, let me level with you” I lost the smile to communicate the severity of my next statement, “You ain’t getting those pancakes until you say please and when I bring them out, they’re going to the table where you’ve left your date.” He looked back over his shoulder to where his date was people watching out the window. Turning back to me he slouched his shoulders over a little bit, and I caught him glancing at the name tag. 

“I’m sorry Ms. Janis, would I be able to get some blueberry pancakes please?” I broke the stern look, smiling at him. 

“Of course you can Tommy, would you like some syrup brought to the table as well?” Tommy nodded adamantly while I looked over to Nikki. 

“Do you want any food to go with your JC?” 

“I would love an order of blueberry pancakes as well…..” He watches as I raise my eyebrow at him, I know that he’s teasing me but I’ll indulge it. “Oh did I forget to say please?” Flipping him off, I grab the menus from in front of the two of them. 

About an hour and a half had gone by before the diner was clear of everyone except Nikki. Tommy had returned to his date when I brought out his pancakes, but not before slipping a napkin across the table to Nikki. He tipped me well and even apologized again on his way out the door, to which I had only laughed and told him all was good.  Danny and the rest of the regulars pitched in a few quarters each so that I could continue playing tunes on the jukebox, and all stopped to compliment Nikki on the “kick-ass” show he put on tonight. After they had left, Nikki sat patiently looking through the newspaper while I made sure the tables were clear and sanitized. With an armful of the diner’s napkin holders and the other hand carrying a package of napkins, I sat in the booth opposite Nikki for my first opportunity to sit down since starting the shift. 

“A kick-ass show tonight?” I questioned while starting to refill the napkin holders. He nodded while motioning to the rag abandoned on the edge of the table. 

“Lead singer and I went at it in front of the crowd at the end of the set.” Pausing what I was doing and raising an eyebrow at him, I prompted him to keep talking. 

“We’ve been at each other’s throats for the past couple of weeks and I just snapped over him changing the order of the songs around.” Again, without saying a word he could gauge my reaction just from my face as I continued on with my tedious task. 

“Listen I know it sounds like some stupid ass shit, but it was just my boiling point you know?” I nodded knowing the feeling all too well. 

“So I take it, that’s the end of London then?” He nodded while sort of laughing to himself over the way it ended. Reaching across the table, I grabbed his empty glass and raised it up into the air for an impromptu toast. “To London!” I shouted in a god awful British accent while Nikki looked at me as if I was the one who walked in here tonight with a bloody nose. 

“Janis Jade! Quit being so damn loud!” yelled out Carlos from the kitchen window, where I knew he was peeling potatoes for the day shift. 

“What are you going to do now then?” I said, sliding the glass back across the table to him and stood to return the napkin holders to the table. 

“Well I grabbed a newspaper to start looking at the ads for new people, but a drummer arrived in front of me.” There weren’t too many people who had gone up to Nikki while he had been there, and knowing that Danny and his group hadn’t spoken to him for long enough to form a band, that left the lanky kid. The napkin I saw him slipping Nikki most likely had a phone number on it then. 

“Tommy offered to be your drummer?” 

“Didn’t you see the drumsticks the kid was carrying around?” He spoke with genuine disbelief that I hadn’t noticed this apparently great detail. 

“Wasn’t paying that much attention to him” Which was a truthful statement.

“That’s because you were too busy giving him an earful” Grabbing my cleaning rag off the main counter, I turned around and snapped it in Nikki’s direction. He moved further back into the booth while laughing. 

“Well he deserved it!” I said, pleading my defense.

“I’m not saying he didn’t, Ms. Janis” he said, snickering to himself at what Tommy had called me. Rolling my eyes I replied, “So you’re a bass player and you’ve got yourself a drummer. Now you need a guitar player and a lead singer at the minimum.” He nodded, holding up the newspaper to indicate that this was his starting place. I smiled at him, it was clear that this was what Nikki really loved to do. Without even skipping a beat, Nikki put London behind him in search of the next batch of people that would help him put out music. I could only hope that whoever ended up being his next band were people that he could be friends with. After all, music is great but it’s even better in good company. Inspired by this, I spoke without thinking, “Tell you what Sixx.” He looked interested. “Once you get this band of yours together, I will come to your first show.” Nikki sat up straighter at this comment.

“Really?” He asked, to which I nodded. He looked almost taken aback by this but his smirk quickly returned to his face. 

“Can I count on you to post our flyers in the window to promote the show?” I only laugh at him.

“Form the band first, then we’ll talk.”

Next Chapter 

[polar-stars]

The Extra and The Humble

Summary: Just me wanting to practice writing Satoshi Isshiki and Terunori Kuga basically (I tried) and giving them some bro-bonding time, SnKimiko-Related

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Unlike his juniors Soma and Erina who dropped off the surface of earth after graduation, Satoshi Isshiki still presented his face to the culinary high society from time to time.

As soon as Terunori Kuga’s invitation to the Mid-Autumn Festival at Hojo-Ro Tokyo had come, Satoshi had immediately taken the earliest chance to get some shopping done in order to gain appropriate clothes. And when the fateful night arrived he was one of the first guests to show up.

He knew about the fact that the new branch of Yokohoma’s famed jewel of Chinese cuisine was a project between Miyoko Hojo and her husband thanks to a few blogs, but even if he hadn’t known: It very much showed. While the menu consisted of classics of the original restaurant mixed with a wave of new ideas with each of them offering a taste of a different region China’s which very much showed Miyoko’s never-ending pursue to explore it all, the exterior and interior of the restaurant screamed Terunori’s name like he himself would. Everything was grand, extra and, simply put, bombastic. It was more reminiscent of an emperor’s summer residence than a restaurant, urging a gasp out of practically everyone who stood in front of it. Satoshi, however, could only chuckle.

Of course his showy former classmate just had to challenge Hayama Akira and his Mid-Eastern-Palace-like debut restaurant as soon as he could.

Naturally, such an pompous location warranted a pompous party and the celebration had lured a large number of acclaimed chefs, important journalists and whatever else you could ask for. So it took a fair amount of time until the beleaguered host was able to reunite with his former classmate.

“Isshiki!” Terunori exclaimed as he walked towards the brunette man with outstretched arms. “You made it!” Satoshi turned his head, his smile simultaneously growing a little as he greeted the familiar face with his name back from school days. “Kuga, what a pleasure to see you.” When the blonde fellow had arrived in front of him, Satoshi added. “You haven’t change much.”

Terunori grinned in response. “I can say the same about you. All-Smiles and Knight-In-Humble-Amor as you’ve ever been.” He lightly punched his buddy’s arm. “When are ya gonna get out of Polar Star and open some restaurants like the rest of us? Your juniors managed to do so a while ago.”

“I’ll be glad to help you out anytime.” Satoshi replied, nicely as always. “But I think I’ll keep on dedicating my cooking mainly to the aspiring, young chefs that will shape the future. Who knows? Maybe I’ll become just a tiny part of their surely glorious path.”

Terunori yawned. “Oh how noble of you.” He gave Satoshi a slight frown. “I can’t remember you being THAT corny.” Satoshi only laughed.

Terunori eyed him for a second, thinking about just how ridiculous it was to him how the most promising and praised students of the 90th, 91st and 92nd Generation had all chosen to just do nothing with all their talents and inhuman-like abilities that everyone else on school had admired and envied. Rather, Sōma and Erina had disappeared right after graduation, followed suit by Eishi and Rindou who were gone a few years later. But to make a vocal comment about that would require Terunori to both admit openly that Satoshi was the best out of the 91st Generation and, to top it off, praise Soma and Eishi in the same breath. So he decided against it.

"Come on, we'll be getting you some Dim Sum." He therefore said instead while patting the back of the much taller man.

—

A few delicacies and some of Terunori's infamous puns later, the two had found their way outside and into the large garden. Out there, Satoshi was provided with the light of the moon, the zillion lanterns of the restaurant and the screen of Terunori's phone which the owner currently held into his face.

"Isn't she the most lovable, cutest thing you've ever seen?" Terunori said, for what must have been the 6th time. "Look into those amethyst eyes and tell me they're not the eyes of an angel. She is so precious!"

What Terunori was referring to was the camera roll on his mobile that consisted majorly of photos that showed a blonde, 6-moths old baby in various outfits and locations. Just one thing seemed to remain consistent: She looked happy on almost all of them.

Satoshi only nodded and smiled honestly. "She is adorable. I'm happy for you."

"Right?" Terunori began bouncing on the spot. "Right?! I'm so blessed to have her in my life." He turned his phone's screen back to him and gushed with undying love gleaming in his brown eyes. "My baby-girl."

Satoshi's smile grew again, more than happy about his friend's found happiness.

However just then the ends of Terunori's mouth sunk a little bit and he slightly frowned. "Can you believe that my small angel will have to go into school alongside the child of the devil himself?"

"Hm?" Satoshi pulled up an eyebrow, not quite understanding. The answer he received was Terunori holding his mobile back into his face yet again, this time not displaying his young daughter but the page of some gossip-blog and a photo of someone very familiar to Satoshi. "Pigtails is pregnant again! And she'll presumably give birth next month!"

While Terunori complained "My Baby-Girl will be in the same generation as Eizan's spawn", Satoshi studied the rather badly taken photo of the girl he met at the age of four, walking down the street all grown and with one hand protectively resting on her bump. Oh how fast time could pass.

"Who knows?" He said, still looking at Terunori's phone. "Maybe little Suzume and their child will actually get along?"

Terunori gave him his best skeptical look. "I highly doubt that, my ever too optimistic friend." Satoshi only threw his head back and laughed yet again.

A part of him wanted to ask both Terunori and also Nene to put their children into Polar Star once their time for Totsuki had arrived, but he knew his former classmates well enough to know that Terunori would not consider the humble rooms of the dormitory big and grand enough for his little princess, while Nene’s husband Etsuya would most definitely veto the idea of putting his children into the dorm he had been close to destroying in his school days.

He knew, he’d have to watch the descendants of his generation and their, rather differing, trajectories on the academy from the distance, delighted at every similarity to their parents he could spot in them.

[shokugeki-secretsanta]

Blooming

Blooming

Soulmates had always been a lovely concept. Everyone dreamed about meeting their destined one whether they admitted it or not. A soft smile would appear on Megumi’s face as she thought about them like fairy tales, beautiful but distant. She had one too, the tattoo on her bicep assured her of that, but with her young age and chaotic school life, it all seemed so far away. A distant future that could be shoved away as she was bombarded with present worries.

  Soulmates were nothing more than a casual topic to giggle about when too much of the rice wine was passed around in the twilight hours of sleepovers at the Polar Star dorms. But the topic rarely went much deeper with all the students focused on honing their skill rather than affairs of the heart. You could ask 10 different people at any given moment the best way to prepare animal hearts, some preferred skewers and others a slow roast, but human hearts were a mystery. Everyone knew you had to tenderize the organ with enzymes and marinades before consumption but barely anyone knew how to soften the heart of the one they loved.

  The only exception was the first reveal of tattoos as it was the only time the topic was explored. The hum of excitement, the small flicker of hope, and the wonder as you fantasize what your future soulmate would be like in the company of friends. When Yuki saw Megumi’s tattoo she squealed with wide eyes, “Woah! A tiger! So intense compared to our sweet Megumi!” Her arm was adorned with a fierce tiger with flames flickering from its paws and piercing amethyst eyes.

  However, with the upcoming Autumn elections and Megumi’s shift from floundering to flourishing, the subject of soulmates was swept underneath the rug. Her transition from grasping and fraying threads to weaving her own path was exciting but consuming. Megumi was beginning to deepen her expertise and her mind was swimming with skills to polish and recipes to try rather than romance.

              Megumi is surprised to see her name on the board to compete for the upcoming Autumn elections but isn’t when she hears the grumbling of her classmates. Whispers of contempt, snide remarks, and nasty insinuations caused Megumi to freeze. A tiny voice in her head says they’re not wrong. She had been on the verge of expulsion twice in one school term and the mere memory made a shiver go down her spine. An audacious declaration of a purple-haired student unexpectedly broke Megumi out of her reprieve. Megumi sputtered words of thanks.

              She is soon overwhelmed with an assault of questions and is quivering under her classmate, who introduced herself as Miyoko, as she is trapped between the taller student’s arms and body. The barrage soon ends when Megumi brought up Souma.

  “Heh, so you just got helped along by a guy? Sorry I bothered you,” Miyoko stated and left almost as quickly as she came. Megumi wondered why Miyoko seemed upset by the fact. What was wrong with relying on her friends? She thinks of Isshiki’s gentle guidance, Yuki’s beaming smile, Ryoko’s assurance, and Souma’s unwavering confidence in her. They all warmed her heart and gave her the strength to face the upcoming challenges. A text from Yuki saying to meet up at the dorms ends Megumi’s trail of thoughts and interest in Miyoko.

  It’s a strange and new feeling when the Autumn Elections start. A couple months ago Megumi would have been in near tears while fumbling left right and centre. She’s not so confident that her nervousness has disappeared but there’s a certain thrum of excitement and clarity. The murmurs of the crowd, the gaze of the judges, they all existed but they’re fuzzy in comparison to her dish at hand. Though accidentally allowing the monkfish to roll away was not exactly her finest work. She thinks of a dear friend for good luck then butchers the monkfish with a flourish that demonstrates the years of practice that went into the skill.

  Megumi was in for two surprises that day. One is making it past the preliminaries despite the tough competition. Of course, it was something Megumi had hoped for, but she was reluctant to let that small sprout overtake her lest disappointment consumed it. Now though, her hope had bloomed into a shy but beautiful bluebell in her heart. The other surprise caught her completely off guard. Miyoko had somehow managed to apologize to her in a sincere yet chic and cool way. With the promise of support and future help, Megumi barely remembered her manners and spewed words of gratitude quickly. The encounter flustered her slightly but brought a grin to her visage. Seeds of carnations are sown in her heart without Megumi noticing. Years pass before they bloom in full force.

  After holding her breath for what felt like an eternity of fighting in both central and blue, Megumi enjoyed getting to simply breathe freely. Her classmates shared a similar sentiment as Megumi discussed with Hisako the benefits of different dried vegetables and herbs over tea and sweets. She had made mochi donuts glazed with basil blueberry sauce to match the soothing tea Hisako had prepared.

  “Erina will be joining us in a bit, she’s held up at a meeting,” Hisako informed her while sitting down. She gracefully lifted the teacup to her lips and allowed the drink to soothe her strained body. However, it wasn’t until Hisako sunk her teeth into the treat and the tension from her shoulder was relieved did Megumi smile.

  “Your food is as comforting as ever,” Hisako complimented but auburn eyes did not meet Megumi’s citrine pair as hers were on Hisako’s soulmate tattoo. Between Hisako’s collar bones was a sophisticated golden crown adorned with diamonds.

  “Thinking about your soulmate?” Hisako guessed.

  “Oh! No, well, I mean a little, I guess. But! Mostly about how you and Erina are such a nice fit,” Megumi sputtered. The vegetable chef was many things but apparently furtive was not one of them. Gathering her courage, Megumi inquired, “How did you know?”

  Hisako mused for a couple moments before answering, “I suppose I always knew but it took a long time for me to admit it. Erina has a regal air, that has always stayed constant, but,” Hisako trailed off reflecting on the past. Megumi silently waited with rapt attention.

              “I had put Erina on a pedestal, constantly insisting on calling her Erina-sama, and, in a way, created a distance between us. But when I finally decided to walk beside her instead of behind her,” a smile crept onto Hisako’s face that she couldn’t fight off even if she wanted to, “I knew we were meant to be. Even without a tattoo, I’d be certain that we were soulmates.”

              A small gasp left Megumi’s lips at the bold proclamation. It soon turned into a cute giggle. Hisako raised her eyebrow, but the smile never left her face. “Oh, that’s so sweet! A soulmate story just like those in a fairy tale,” Megumi commented with an amiable grin which radiated with sincerity.

              “Perhaps,” Hisako reflected, “But I think you also bring out the sweet side in others.” Megumi’s eyes widen and she flushes at the statement. Hisako never minces words to appease others and speaks what she believes to be true. A compliment from her is a treasure to Megumi. The moment passed as Erina arrived, her presence grabbing both girls’ attention.

              “Sorry for being late,” Erina apologized quickly.

              “Don’t be, I already explained it to Tadokoro-san,” Hisako responded.

              “Let us know if there’s any way we can help out,” Megumi added. Erina was always a busy bee but being a third year had only increased her schedule with ample paperwork and meetings.

              “No, no, these people just dragged on the meeting unnecessarily, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle,” Erina insisted as she sat down, “Forget about that meeting, I heard something about soulmates?” Now that Hisako had happily accepted their soulmate bond, Erina never shied away from the topic. Megumi remembered meeting during first year and being scarred from Erina’s explosion whenever the topic was brought up.

              “Well, I’m curious if Tadokoro-san has any ideas about who her soulmate might be,” Hisako admitted. Immediately a rosy pink flooded her cheeks. Megumi might have heard rumours that a certain chef specializing in Chinese cuisine had a vegetable related tattoo. And maybe, Megumi adored conversing with Miyoko about cooking and how her eyes lit with an intense burning flame as she discussed her passions. Also, Megumi might have a tendency to stare at Miyoko’s face, her heart fluttering without fail when Miyoko’s plum eyes met her own accompanied by a smile. But she held her fledgling wish close to her heart. Many people never met their soulmate, even going as far as to cover their tattoo.

              “Who is the lucky person?” Hisako asked, the corner of her lips tugging higher up when she saw Megumi’s flustered expression.

              “No one!” Megumi squealed, “It … It’s just … I just have a guess, maybe.” Citrine eyes are steadily glued to the tea as knowing smiles are passed between Hisako and Erina.

              “You must find out Tadokoro-san! This is our last year,” Erina insisted. Megumi’s eyes go as wide as the teacup saucers before them.

              “Not at this very moment,” Hisako amended, “But soon.” Megumi meekly nodded and gratitude flooded her heart as Hisako directed the conversation elsewhere.

              A few days later while staring at the doors to the Chinese Cuisine RS, Megumi felt inclined to procrastinate the matter further. A sharp glance from Erina had sent Megumi toward her maybe-soulmate but now she was only a few steps away her mind blanked. How on earth was she supposed to casually bring up the topic? Hey! Can I see your soulmate tattoo because I think we might be soulmates but if not that’s cool too -  Just imagining the scenario was enough to fluster Megumi and send her into a state of disarray.

              “Hey Megumi, are you here for a Shokugeki too?” Souma asked. Megumi yelped, unaware of her best friend’s presence. “I was gonna test out this new Chinese dish I made, and I figured the best way would be a shokugeki!” he explained unfazed by Megumi’s surprise.

              “S-souma-kun! Oh, I guess … well …” Megumi struggled to find words but as the red head’s megawatt smile shone, she got a growing feeling that her emotions were not being conveyed.

              “I’ll let Hojo know right now, save you the trouble of writing one of those letters,” Souma offered. Megumi gulps down an immediate rejection. They were chefs and if words were failing her, as they often did, perhaps a dish would be the best.

              “Thank you Souma-kun! A shokugeki is perfect,” Megumi declared. Souma barreled in though not many blinked as the school had somewhat acclimatized to the chaotic chef. Megumi traced the word person on her hand, challenging her possible soulmate to a Shokugeki was enough to send her heart into overdrive.

              “What theme?” Miyoko’s voice snapped Megumi out of her trance.

              She summoned her courage and responded, “You! Or, um, your personality. A dish that is you.” Miyoko tilted her head ever so slightly, such an abstract theme was quite rare. “If you’re okay with that,” Megumi hastily added.

              “Let’s do it,” Miyoko agreed. Dates and details were decided in a flurry and each chef left in preparation for their upcoming battle.

              Before Megumi left to her room, a firm hand grasped her shoulder. “Good luck Megumi!!” Souma stated before heading off to the kitchen.

              “You too!” Megumi shouted in hopes of him hearing. Did Souma’s smile contain a hint of insight and mischief or was Megumi starting to hallucinate? She quickly brushed off the thought in favour of brainstorming on how to create a dish that conveyed all the emotions brewing in her heart.

              The day of Shokugeki arrives and Megumi’s emotions are on a wild roller coaster. The shokugeki itself brings no fear but Megumi has no idea what to do after. Does she ask to see Miyoko’s soulmate tattoo? Does she let it go? Does she confess regardless? Her mind is spiralling and suddenly just the thought of soulmates is enough to get her heart racing. The endless cycle continued until Megumi arrived on stage where she takes a page from Souma’s book and decided to just let the cooking do the talking and whatever came after would come.

              The crowd watched their every movement with anticipation but somehow Megumi felt freer than ever. The floodgates of her tumultuous emotions opened as she was put her entire heart on this plate. Her wishes, hopes, intentions, all laid out in a bout of courage and vulnerability intertwined together.

              Megumi serves ankimo, an exquisite delicacy Megumi manages to infuse with hospitality, accompanied by a salad of fresh and pickled vegetables. The judges compliment her use of Kogiku pumpkin and Tachikawa burdock root, but her eyes are glued to Miyoko taking a bite of an Akasuji daikon. Miyoko’s subsequent grin has Megumi’s heart soaring and it isn’t until this moment that Megumi how much she has fallen for her confident friend. God, she hoped so much that it was her, that by the end of this her hope would blossom rather than wilt.

              Miyoko serves xiao long bao with the dumplings folded precisely sixteen times and each with a unique filling. Truffle broth, shrimp stuffing, all crafted carefully, leaving Megumi in awe of how Miyoko prepared so much in so little time. The broth bursts in her mouth and encompassed her taste buds in a heavenly sensation. The Laohu Cai, also known as tiger salad, makes her heart skip a beat and fed her hope further.

              By the end Megumi wins 3-0, the judges congratulating both chefs on the spectacular dishes, but Megumi wins them over with the overflowing love that her dish can barely contain.

              “Congratulations, you’ve definitely earned your seat on the elite ten,” Miyoko praised.

              Megumi took a deep breath and declared, “I thought of you while making the dish.”

              “Since we’re not leaving anything barred, I am going show you this too,” Miyoko explained as she removed her shoe. On her ankle was a vegetable yokai surrounded by snowflakes. Megumi was so happy that tears threaten to spill from her eyes. She thinks back to the alumni comparing her to all types of yokai from household gods to koro-pok-guru. Megumi quickly rolls up her sleeve to reveal the purple-eyed tiger on her arm. Miyoko smiled while taking her hand and Megumi feels a garden of forget-me-nots bloom in her heart.

  Flower Meanings:

Bluebells – Grateful

Carnations – Fascination, distinction, love

Forget-me-not – True love

[scribblescrabblebabble]

RoyEd Week Day 5

Title: Seven(?) Days

Rating: T+

Relationships: Roy Mustang/ Edward Elric

Chapter: Day 5- Speakeasy AU (pt.5)

Cross- Posted on AO3 and Fanfic.net links- AO3   fanfic.net

Best quality reading will be through the links, not on Tumblr itself because I’m too lazy to do italics and shit right now. For @royedweek2019 ‘s RoyEd Week!

Pt. 2 of the Speakeasy!Au! Roy snoops and finds out who the strange blonde from the night before really is!

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The shop itself was rather unassuming, maybe even quite charming in the late morning light. A pleasant little bell chimed as Roy pushed open the door, hit with the scent of flowers and the sounds of scratchy violin music from a phonograph in the corner. The flowers inside bloomed in every color Roy could imagine, a much-preferred contrast to the bleak, overcast autumn outside.

A young man with rusty blonde hair and an apron popped out from behind a large display table, holding a little watering can, "Good Morning, sir! How can I help you today?"

"Hello, are you the owner?" He asked, "I'm Roy, I own the restaurant next door."

A sweet smile lit of the young man's face, "Yes! I'm Al Elric, it's nice to meet you! My wife and I've wanted to go try your food out for a while now."

Looking at this pleasant young face, Roy felt confused. He seemed so unseemly and nice, what was the whole 'throwing-men-in-the-alley' business he and Jean had witnessed last night? Certainly, that business couldn't be related to this sweet little arrangement over here! The older man smiled politely, "Well, we would certainly love to have you."

"So, Roy, do you need an arrangement or anything? I'll be glad to help you choose some flowers if you want."

Roy shook his head, "Not today, unfortunately. I actually wanted to come to check on you guys; my cook and I saw some strange business in the alley behind our places last night. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay."

Al's smile dropped to a concerned frown, "What happened?"

"Well, we were out back for some fresh air, and a man appeared from a door and dropped another guy, unconscious, into your garbage pile. Seemed pretty sketchy."

Roy watched carefully as Al's face visibly paled, and he put his watering pail down with a little too much force on the display table, "Oh dear, is that so? I didn't see anyone out there this morning, I hope he's alright! Hold on, I'll call over my brother. He deals with our later shifts." His words came out quickly and more high-pitched than usual. He turned to a corner of the room obscured by plants, shouting, "Edward! Come over here a minute!" Roy heard a loud groan of protest, followed by the snapping of a closed book and the dramatic stomping of feet. Al rolled his eyes.

"What? I was getting to the good part of my b- Oh fuck!" Much to Roy's surprise, the blonde from the night before turned the corner, a look of disdain on his face when he recognized who his brother currently attended.

Al's hand immediately went to his forehead, "Very discreet, Brother.

Edward ignored the other blonde, pointing at Roy, "What the hell do you need from us? I told you last night, it's none of your damn business!"

"None of my business?! That man-"

"Hey!" Al piped, pushing both men into the back room quickly, "The shop is kind of open." This new room was darker and full of flowers not-yet-bloomed. Ed sat in the only available chair as Al left to attend to a different customer. Roy leaned against a table gingerly.

"… As I was saying, that man was injured! Besides, ever since this shop opened, strange characters have been coming into my restaurant, harassing my staff, and deterring potential customers! It is very much my business if you're being shady as fuck and hurting my business!"

Edward sighed, dragging a hand down his face, "Okay, buddy, listen. That guy last night was bad news. Our night crowd is usually fairly respectable."

"Your 'night crowd'? In a flower shop?!" Roy was bewildered, "What the hell are you doing selling plants past your closing hours?"

The blonde blinked, "Wha- no. You…. You really haven't… okay." He huffed out a sigh, "I really have no reason to trust you, but since you haven't gone to the cops yet about the guy I guess you're okay. Follow me."

"Wait, wait, what the hell are you on about? Do the cops need to be involved?" This conversation was really going nowhere, Roy realized. He didn't even really know what they were talking about now.

"No, not really. Not in a sane society, at least. Just… follow me, you'll understand." Ed motioned for Roy to follow, and they headed back into another, smaller room. It was obviously meant to be a storage closet; the space was so small. Carefully, Edward felt along the wall until he managed to take hold of a divot in the paneled wood walls. Roy gasped as the wall creaked to the side, and a dusty, low-lit staircase led down five steps to yet another door, this one locked tight. Luckily, Edward had the key in his pocket around a chain, and the door opened into what Roy quickly realized was a rickety-looking bar. It reeked of alcohol, a smell Roy hadn't been acquainted with since his war years. Edward turned to face Roy, gesturing broadly to the space around them with an eyebrow quirked.

"A speakeasy," Roy stated.

"Yes, Einstein, a speakeasy."

Roy took a deep breath, not ready for this turn of events so early in the day, "You're really damn luck I give exactly zero shits about the whole Prohibition ordeal, or I'd have police on you in an instant. Why would you trust a stranger with a secret like this? I work in fine dining! The exact people you don't want to know about this place frequent my establishment."

He looked relieved, "Well, I'll know to be careful from now on."

"From now on? Your business is inherently illegal, you should have been careful from the get-go!"

Edward rolled his eyes, "Oh come off it, you sound like Al. I'm careful as fuck! Haven't been caught yet, have I?"

"You almost were last night by me and Jean, or do you not remember loudly disposing of an unconscious man in a public area?"

"Well, I made a mistake, sue me! You know, this whole nagging thing is really not doing you any favors." Edward turned to go behind the bar, Roy quick to take a seat at one of the tall, wooden barstools.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Edward shrugged, pouring himself a clear liquid that Roy could reasonably guess wasn't water, "Just what it's supposed to mean. Want some?"

The chef shook his head, "Not till it's legal, thanks."

Edward laughed, "That's cute. You're cute, you know that?"

"Excuse me?" This conversation kept making the weirdest turns. Hadn't they started out arguing about some guy in an alley?

A wide grin, "I said you're cute. In a grumpy, prudish way, but still cute."

Roy flushed a bit, to his own mortification, "I will have you know I am neither grumpy, prudish, or cute!" He stood up, receiving a slight frown from the blonde, "I have to go help set up for lunch at the restaurant. Your secret's safe with me, so long as you keep it out of my business. I'll see you later, Edward."

"Just Ed's fine, and I do hope I'll see you again soon. Maybe another guy'll get violently drunk and I'll have to dispose of him."

Roy quirked a brow, "Or you could just come over like a normal human."

Ed's smile brightened, "I'll be sure to!"

Having waved goodbye to Al and wishing his day the best, Roy took a quick walk around the block before re-entering the restaurant. He didn't want to get involved with some illegal bar ordeal, but he was strangely intrigued by Ed. He was spunky, if not a bit reckless, and if Roy had to admit it, he was quite attractive in his own way (although he'd stay indignant over the 'cute comment!).

Whatever was to come, Roy was certain Ed would be there, and that it would be nothing if not entirely interesting.

~End~