#my boss keeps cracking jokes about my shoes when he sees them but i can tell hes getting pissed off

[thiamfresh]

All mt shoes are broken and I have no money on my bank account and won't get paid again until after I send in my Feb pay claim (which I'll send in March 1st) but it can take up to 30 days for me to get paid and I need shoes?? How am I meant to go to work without shoes?

Look at these pieces of shit. This is my 'best' pair of shoes. What the fuck?? Do I walk weird?? What is wrong with my feet??

[arbiterlexultionis]

Poltergeist

So, Danny, who’s blood is composed of mostly caffeine because the Box Ghost just WON’T FUCKING STOP attacking on the middle of the night, God Dammit this is the SEVENTH Time tonight how the Crap Baskets do you keep escaping the Thermos!! So, when he wakes up one morning needing both caffeine and ectoplasm in his sleep deprived state he just mixes a 4 pack of monster and beaker of ectoplasm in a jug and starts chugging to try and get it down before the taste hits and then stops. Takes a sip. Takes another. And realizes that it actually taste way better then either do individually.

So he starts mixing them up regularly, and eventually starts just phasing ectoplasm into still sealed cans so he can grab and go for the sake of convenience. Then some other ghost get a taste, like it, and start asking for more. So Danny gets some new friends and starts making ghost money selling his concoction, and as a joke based on the original name of the energy drink, paints over the can and relabels them Poltergeist.

For a while, business is booming but then a problem pops up. Real world items are contraband in the zone according to Walker, and most of the drink itself and the container it comes in is real world matter. Cue prohibition era shenaniganery as Danny and his allies became energy drink bootleggers, running from Walker, smuggling cases of Poltergeist, hiring ghost to help them with all of this, the whole nine yards.

I think this could work out pretty well with Danny and The Spooks, him and his boys mass producing and shipping out illegal ghost energy drinks could be a really cool plot line in my opinion, producing it, figuring out how to get it to the zone and all that as a group. I also feel this idea is just the right amount of wacky to work with the DP verse and serious/sensible enough to not be complete crack fic unless you want it to be.

When the Fenton’s and Valerie hear about that no good menace Phantom selling Highly Dangerous Ghost Drugs the flip their shit. The smear campaign is the stuff of legends. And then the truth comes out. It’s just a really Really REALLY tired teenager trying to stay awake and make some pocket money to buy first aid supplies and have some left over to buy food for homeless people.

If it’s a verse where Sam and Tucker are in on the whole ghost fighting thing then they are Energy Drink Kingpin Danny’s right and left hand men. Tucker’s the tech guy, figuring out how to build hidden compartments in vehicles to hide the goods, monitoring and screwing with Walker’s tech, managing accounts for human money he makes/figuring out how to exchange human money for Ghost money. Sam is his badass enforcer who keeps the underlings in line, and also uses her money and rich people connections to launder money and stuff. Proper crime boss stuff.

Eventually, everyone’s least favorite front loop catch’s wind of this. And I see this going one of two ways.

1) He comes to the conclusion that Danny’s not aloud to have nice things, and starts his own enterprise to compete with Danny. Stealing business, sabotaging production, tipping off Walker. General douchbaggery.

2) He is the opposite of opposition. He wants Danny as his Son, wants Danny to be just like him, wants to guide and train Danny the way he never got. So Danny, all on his own, building a criminal empire? Pissing off the authorities instead of being a little goody two shoes? Laundering money almost as good as his old man? It is wonderful and he is Here For It. Either he’s in the distance cheering him on or actively trying to help. “No no my boy, if you do it like that you’ll either end up broke or in jail for tax evasion. You’ve got to send your money through these channels and store it in banks of these countries. I’ll help you set up accounts.���

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Kink Realization + degradation?

"Don't be disgusting." Shigaraki says it to him while they're in a late-night planning session. He says that in response to him mouthing off and saying that AFO's fixation on them nabbing kids is creepy as shit. He's right that it is, but maybe implying that the guy who adopted his boss when he was young might have had reasons beyond the usual villainy was a bad look in momentary hindsight. But Dabi doesn't take the words back. He's a little too busy wondering why he kind of got warmer when the other said that. Whatever. Weird, but his whole life is weird. He goes on with their night. 

///

He doesn't have as easy of a time ignoring it when he comes through one of Kurogiri's portals, tripping on the sudden shift from cracked pavement to hardwood floors and losing his balance as Jin, Compress, and Toga come racing out after him. He falls on the floor, thankfully between the couch and coffee table instead of onto Duster's lap or into the hard edge of the furniture, and he rolls onto his back, meaning to push himself up quickly, but instead, a red sneaker lands on his sternum and keeps him pressed to the floor. Shigaraki looks down at him, his expression cool behind the hand on his face.

"Report." 

"Can you let a guy stand up first?" He gripes, reaching to push away the other's foot. He barely gets his fingers on the hem of his jeans before Shigaraki is grinding his shoe a little harder into Dabi's chest, stealing the breath from him. 

"No. Besides, you're nothing but a dog right now. Prove you were worth training and bark, puppy." 

He thinks he's supposed to set Shigaraki on fire for that, but he can't find his quirk, he can barely find his tongue as his entire body goes hot with arousal instead of fury. 

"Tomura Shigaraki," Kurogiri's voice comes sternly from behind the bar. "That is no way to treat your subordinates." 

Duster rolls his eyes and moves his foot off of him. "Lighten up, 'Giri. It was a joke." Dabi sits up quickly, desperately hoping that his pants are loose enough and his coat is big enough that no one sees that the treatment got him half-hard. 

"Fuck off, Shig. Compress took point. Get your report from him." He hopes he seems pissed off instead of anything else as he leaves the room, his pulse pounding in his ears. 

///

He waits until the others have departed for their own places or to celebrate a job well done before he goes to take a cold shower. He's not still hard, but he wants to tear whatever in Shigaraki's actions and words had made him hard away from his skin. But he might just go drown himself in the tub when he comes out of the bathroom and finds Duster waiting outside the door. He startles, nearly dropping his clothes, only wearing his sleep pants now. 

"Sorry, all yours." One bathroom is an annoying thing to deal with, but at least he has running water again. 

"That's a generous offer considering I don't even know if you're worthy of my time yet."

Dabi bristles again as Shigaraki doesn't move from where he's leaning against the wall. "What?" 

Red eyes drag over him. "I'm not sure," he says slowly, "if someone as gross as you, is worthy of my time." 

It still takes him a minute and then he's flushing indignantly. "What the fuck, Duster? Are you negging me?" 

"No." He says the word with certainty. "Negging is just words. I'm degrading you, because you're the kind of pathetic bitch that likes it when he gets stepped on." 

"I don't--"

"Did I give you permission to talk back to me?" Dabi's mouth snaps shut as a tremble works its way down his spine as his body goes abruptly hot again. "Better. Maybe if you learn your manners you'll earn the privilege of sleeping in a bed instead of on the floor like a dog." 

Oh god. Dabi's fucking thighs are shaking, and there is no hiding how quickly the blood rushes to his cock as Shigaraki says that, no way he can shift his bundle of clothes in front of himself without being extremely obvious about it. Duster is watching it happen anyway, his lip curled into a sneer. 

"Disgusting." He pushes away from the wall and Dabi thinks he's just going to be left with this humiliation, but Shigaraki goes to his door. "Heel." 

He's not a dog, but he might as well be. He goes over to his door, and before he can ask, Shigaraki rolls his eyes. 

"Did you really think I would fuck someone like you in my bed. No." Then he considers him, actually considers him and that meanness leaves his eyes to become more calculating. "And speaking of 'no', if you want something to stop, then you can bark twice. Once if you want things to keep going. Mutts don't speak, after all." And then Shigaraki waits. 

Dabi feels like he might be dying in some awful haze of a fever dream as he croaks out a single weak, "Woof?" 

The sharpness comes right back to Duster's expression. "You can be trained. Now take those off and get on the floor. Dogs don't walk or wear clothes." 

Dabi doesn't know if he's ever had his cock dripping without anyone even touching him before, but as he practically scurries inside his room to comply with the orders, he has a feeling that Shigaraki will be able to make him cum without touching him if he keeps treating him like this.

[elizabethbennetz]

An analysis of Esra’s costume in Midnight at the Pera Palace (contains spoilers) - PART 1/3

First of all, I’d like to point out that I understand very little about costume design and cinema in general, so this is merely my interpretation. You should feel free to disagree and/or add to the discussion. I’d love to hear from other perspectives!

Alright, so let’s begin!

The very first outfit we see Esra in is also the only truly modern outfit she wears in the series. She’s wearing a somewhat professional, but simple and “laid back” white blouse with jeans and a pair of white sneakers. She also wears a light purpleish/greyish coat over this outfit every now and then and a very colorful necklace that, honestly, looks like something either made or worn by a child.

I believe this is to show how innocent, naive and child-like Esra is. In this office context, she still manages to throw in something fun to brighten up the mood, just like she always tries to spice things up when she gets an assignment. She’s very smiley and insistent even as her boss stares disappointingly at her. She tours the hotel with wide shiny eyes both in the present and in the past. You can tell she’s just having a marvelous time and ignoring all the stares she is getting. Halit even tries to crack a joke about her outfit in an attempt to make conversation, but she’s not affected by it at all. She’s a pure soul wondering around the world looking at all the tiniest things and seeing greatness in all of them — just like a child.

The second outfit Esra wears is the green outfit Peride died in. It is much darker than her previous outfit and we later learn that Peride’s personality is in fact the complete opposite of Esra’s. Unlike Peride at the moment of her death, Esra isn’t wearing dark make up and it’s clear that her personality doesn’t really mesh with the dark dress. She’s still trying to learn how to pose as Peride and properly step into her shoes, but her face still turns her in.

Esra then comes down the stairs and has her second encounter with Halit, who she believes to be Peride’s murderer. She’s no longer wearing the light colored outfit he mocked at the party. Esra is scared for her life now and she’s literally wearing the clothes of a dead woman — the woman she thinks he killed.

Once she’s at Peride’s home, Esra learns a bit more about Peride’s environment and the people that surrounded her. By the time Halit and George arrive for dinner, she is wearing an even darker blue gown and she’s also wearing dark make up, as Peride usually did. She sounds more confident and even arrogant, like Peride, even if she still lets some of her own moral views slip into the conversation.

To me, this shows not only how she’s getting more comfortable and convincing in Peride’s shoes, but also how awful is her opinion of Halit at this point. Everytime they meet, she’s wearing a darker outfit than before. You can hear the disgust in her voice as she talks to him and that is very clearly Esra talking, not Peride.

Halit is now getting suspicious of Esra. He warns her about the consequences of not keeping her mouth shut and asks her to meet him at the Garden Bar.

By the time Esra goes to the Garden Bar… You guessed it. Darker clothes. In fact, black clothes this time. This is when Halit tries to confront her. He has no clue what is going on, but he knows she’s pretending to be somebody else. He dances confidently as she stumbles, but she soon manages to throw him off. “Are you a murderer?” she asks. He doesn’t look so confident anymore and she stops stumbling as she continues to accuse him. Esra then, sounding (and looking!) a lot more like Peride than Esra now, takes a couple steps closer. With a lifted chin, she disses both Halit and Mustafa Kemal and leaves in triumph. Halit’s even more confused than before.

In the morning, Esra discusses with Peride’s father and gets kicked out. She then meets Halit at the Garden Bar once again, wearing the same black gown from the night before (I really hope she showered). Back then, she lied about not caring for Mustafa Kemal, this time, she lies about why she was asking about Fahrettin. At this point, neither Esra nor Halit trust each other.

Esra’s next costume is the most colorful so far, it looks modern and she wears it while singing a modern song. She’s putting on a show in multiple senses and you can see that she is, once again, just having fun with it all.

I think this is the moment when Esra shows her true colors (pun intended). The last time we watched Esra being Esra herself she was also wearing modern clothes. All the modern elements in her performance are there to remind us of who she really is.

Another aspect I think is worth mentioning is that she is singing a turkish song, which is a subtle resistance move in this context, even if she didn’t know there was a law against it. The whole crowd is paying attention and having fun with her, enjoying this glimpse of a modern and independent Turkey, but Halit… Halit is mesmerised. Not only he is feeling the same as the crowd, he is also finally getting a glimpse of the woman he’s been searching for in the last 2 years. By the time Esra finishes the song and smiles at all the applause, you can see a shy grin in the corner of Halit’s lips. He just can’t hold it.

Halit then approaches Esra by the bar and tells her why he can’t hire her. He seems genuinely sorry he can’t. Esra, like the fun, confident and absolutely colorful person that she is, cracks a joke — and this is the first time we watch Halit let out a laughter. He is letting his guard down.

But the truth is Esra does not trust Halit yet. She puts Peride’s black coat over the colorful costume before she accepts Halit’s invitation to leave the bar with him. He tells her to mind her step and she very obviously ignores it, since she steps on a pile of horse excrement. Perhaps, she should trust him...

Don't forget to check part 2 here!

[butterflyyeo]

drunk in love

pairing - yeosang x fem reader

genre - fluff, angst (?)

tw - lots of alcohol consumption, swearing

wc - 10k

side ships - seongjoong, yungi

a/n -- was meant to be angst but turned into fluff... im trying my best to get better at writing angst aaaah. but please enjoy this for now <3 thanks for letting me tag you @iminchaosnow !!

------------------------------------------- you had known kang yeosang for nearly two years now. two, dreadfully slow and exhausting years.it was your final year of high school when he transferred to your school, he was a close family friend of wooyoung's. his parents had spoken highly of the school, insisting that yeosang transfers in order to excel for his last year of schooling. as far as you were concerned, he had decent grades, but he preferred to spend his time hanging around the skatepark after dark, when everyone else had left.

and in all the two years you'd known him, you had never once had a full conversation with him, despite being in your group of friends. his side of the 'conversation' usually consisted of monotonous 'yeahs' and 'mhms'. wooyoung constantly assured you it was because he's shy and that he'd eventually open up. but you weren't convinced. you tried so hard for him to like you, but your efforts were fruitless. it was infuriating, feeling like you were constantly doing something wrong whenever you were around him.

you currently found yourself in the backseat of yeosang's car, wedged between a drunken yunho and mingi while a chaotic wooyoung was singing along to his chosen playlist. (though, it sounded more like wailing.)

you and the eight boys had all decided to take a gap year, spend every last cent you earned on adventure and alcohol to make lifelong memories, before your careers became a blockade in your friendship. but the year was coming to an end soon, it was already mid november. on the bright side, that meant your favourite holidays were just weeks away.

yeosang was always the designated driver. that was something you had noticed about him over the last few years. to be honest, you weren't sure just how he coped with a screeching wooyoung, because you sure as hell weren't dealing very well with yunho and mingi who were playing a very intense game of rock paper scissors to decide who would be crashing on the couch in your apartment.

"i win!" mingi cheered, waving his hands excitedly. "you're on the couch, man."

yunho frowned, "damn."

you laughed, "it's okay, yunho. you can share the bed with me if you'd like."

"hey! that's not fair y/n! you said i could this time." wooyoung whined from the front seat.

"sorry, woo. you know i keep my promises, but you're going back to your apartment. remember?" you tried to reason.

wooyoung looked as though someone had switched a lightbulb on behind his eyes, "oh yeah! i forgot."

the four of you burst into laughter, mainly caused by the alcohol and partially because of wooyoung's realisation. and still, yeosang didn't crack a smile, hands just gripping the steering wheel tighter as his knuckles turned white.

soon, you arrived outside your apartment block, quickly stepping out the car after yunho. wooyoung wound his window down and you poked your head in, attempting to hug him goodbye.

"bye woo!" you said, giggling at your faltered farewell.

"good night y/n, thanks for the drinks!" he shouted, exclaiming a bit too loudly next to your ear.

"thanks for the lift as always, yeosang!" you yelled, pulling away from wooyoung's tight hug.

he nodded, "no problem." before putting the window up and driving away.

you pouted, turning around to face the two boys. "i just don't understand what i'm doing wrong." you buried your face into your hands, "why doesn't he like me?" you groaned.

"y/n." mingi began, "its nearly 1am, its way too late for this 'why does yeosang hate me?' crap." he shook your shoulders, literally trying to shake some sense into you.

"yeah, mingi's right. we've had this discussion a thousand times." yunho said grasping your wrist and pulling you up the stairs, stumbling along the way. (because lets be real, stairs are difficult enough as it is, let alone when drunk.) "now, let us into your apartment so we can eat your food and crash on your couch!" he joked, nudging mingi in a playful manner.

you reached into your pocket and fumbled around with they key for a moment before unlocking the door. the boys practically pushed you inside and made a beeline for the fridge.

"help yourselves! i'm going to shower." you called, dragging yourself to your bedroom.

once you'd finished showering you went back to the living room to check on yunho and mingi. not so much to your surprise, they had fallen asleep on your couch already, cuddled up into each other. it was cute, even picture worthy to show their sober selves. you reached for your phone which typically lived in your pocket, though you began to panic when it wasn't there. hurrying around the apartment, you searched every possible nook and cranny for your phone, but it was nowhere to be found. you collapsed onto your bed, snuggling into the soft sheets, too tired to worry about your phone anymore and content with the assumption that you'd left it in yeosang's car.

shortly, your heavy eyes fell shut and you began to sleep away the tequila.

————————

the next morning you awoke to mingi and yunho's deep, hungover voices, discussing their plans for the next week.

you reluctantly pulled yourself out of bed and dawdled down the hallway.

"ah! there's our favourite karaoke partner!" yunho greeted, jokingly.

you laughed, "shh, don't let wooyoung hear you say that."

"she's right, man. he'd be so offended." mingi said, stretching out his sore limbs. "how are you feeling today, y/n?" he asked.

"not the worst hangover i've had. what about you guys? you're welcome to stay here as long as you'd like, until you feel better." you replied, knowing them well enough to know that they'd need at least a few painkillers and a good meal before they went home.

yunho chuckled, "i feel like crap, but nothing a sandwich and glass of water can't solve."

"i second that." mingi said, raising a hand.

"okay, well in that case, i'll go to the store and get something for breakfast. sound good?" you reasoned, running a hand through your hair. you loved these boys, and making them breakfast was just a nice way of showing you cared. drunk or not, they knew how to make you smile and laugh, which they loved to see.

"sounds amazing!" yunho said, breaking into a sincere smile.

you quickly changed out of your pyjamas and slipped some shoes on.

"i might be a bit longer, i need to stop by yeosang's. i think i left my phone in his car." you explained, picking your keys up from the kitchen counter. "see you guys soon! feel free to take a shower if you want." you said, waving goodbye and heading out the door.

"okay, bye y/n!" the boys called from behind you.

the first stop was yeosang's apartment, he only lived about ten minutes away with wooyoung and san, in the same building as jongho. both yunho and mingi lived on the other side of town, which is why they so often crashed at your place after parties. seonghwa and hongjoong were fortunate enough to live in a house, just outside town, they had actually been the hosts of last night's party.

it didn't take long to get there. you pushed open the lobby door and made your way over to the elevator, disappointed to see that it was out of order for maintenance. instead, you took the stairs and began spiralling upwards. less than a minute later you looked up, only to bump into the man you came looking for.

"oh, yeosang! i'm so sorry, i didn't mean to." you quickly apologised, worried about creating another reason for him to dislike you.

"it's fine." he shrugged.

you both began to talk again at the same time, "ah, sorry, you go."

"i was just gonna say, you left your phone in my car. actually, i was about to bring it back." he pulled your phone from the pocket of his jacket, handing it to you. as he did, your fingers brushed against his. he spun around suddenly and began to walk away, "i'll see you around."

he had left before you even had a chance to thank him. slightly confused and frustrated, you turned back around and traipsed down the stairs.

you gathered what you needed for a hearty breakfast at the local convenience store before heading home and spending the rest of the day in the enjoyable company of yunho and mingi.

yeosang had entered back into his apartment and sat down on the couch.

"back already?" wooyoung asked, rummaging through the fridge.

"she was coming to get her phone and i ran into her on the staircase."

wooyoung sighed, "when are you gonna stop hating her?"

"i don't hate her." yeosang said, not looking up from his phone.

"then why do you act like you do?"

yeosang pretended to not hear that question and continued to scroll through his phone. see, he'd rather not dwell on things that he couldn't understand.

————————

to fill up your weekdays during your gap year, you had picked up a job at a hotel in town as a receptionist. to your dismay, your boss had asked you to work night shift all week, which is how you found yourself here on thursday night, sitting alert and waiting for the slight chance that someone might check in at this time of night. it was a pretty fancy hotel, and the job payed well enough, so really, you had nothing to complain about.

the nights seemed to drag on for an eternity. to keep yourself busy, you often wasted time counting the cars that drove past, or tried to count the number of crystals that hung from the chandelier. so far, only a few people had checked in during your shift, having come from overseas and recently arriving at the airport. honestly, whenever someone walked through the front door, lugging a suitcase behind them, you got excited as it gave you something to do.

the clock was creeping up to 4am and you let out a quiet yawn, feeling drowsy as your body clock hadn't yet adjusted to the change of sleeping patterns on such short notice. taking a sip of water, you shook your head, trying to stay awake. your head suddenly jolted up at the sound of the front door opening.

a man stumbled forward, and you'd seen enough zombie movies to become instantly paranoid. you quickly pushed the thought out of your head, feeling ridiculous for even considering it. but as the man got closer, you could smell the cheap, potent alcohol lingering on his body.

he leant against the desk, peering down at you. "i need a room for the night."  he grumbled. "my stupid wife kicked me out." he said under his breath.

you forced a friendly smile, despite feeling uneasy, "of course! i just need you to fill in this form with some simple details." you said, sliding across a clipboard and a pen.

he huffed, picking up the pen and scribbling onto the sheet of paper before pushing it back to you. "can i go now?"

"just a moment, sir." you replied, eyes skimming over the form as you copied the information into the computer in front of you.

the man was growing impatient, stepping from foot to foot with his arms crossed.

"uh, sir, you missed a part of the form. could you please provide your phone number here." you pointed to the empty space on the sheet.

"for fucks sake." he muttered, "i don't have my phone on me and i don't know my phone number." he said, annoyedly tapping on the desk.

"i'm really sorry, sir, but—"

"can't you just find me a fucking room?" he snapped, hands balled into fists and slamming against the desk, making you jump in fright.

before you had time to try and reason with him, he continued to shout.

"you're as stupid as my wife! i'll just find a different fucking hotel." he yelled, swiping the clipboard and pen off the desk. "useless bitch." he mumbled as he kicked over a chair on his way out.

you chewed your bottom lip, trying to fight back the tears. with shaky hands, you picked up your phone and dialled the first place that came to mind. after a few rings, the phone answered.

"woo?" you croaked, trying hard to not cry.

"he's asleep. this is yeosang." he replied, evidently having just woken up by the sound of his voice.

"oh." you began, instantly feeling guilty for waking him up, "i'm sorry i didn't mean to disturb you."

"did you need something?" he asked.

"i just, i was..." you let out a sob, wiping at a tear falling from your eye.

this didn't go unnoticed by yeosang, "are you crying? what are you doing awake right now anyway?"

"i'm at work." you managed to choke out.

"at 4am?"

"i'm on night shift."

"why are you crying then?" he asked, feeling something slightly tug at his heart, but choosing to ignore it.

you began to ramble, "a man came in and he was really drunk and complaining about his wife and then he yelled at me because i asked him to give his phone number and—"

"i'm on my way." yeosang cut you off.

"what?"

"i'll be there in ten." with that, he hung up the phone.

exactly ten minutes later, you were sat in the passenger seat of yeosang's car. he was dressed in sweats, clearly having come straight from bed. you'd left a note on the desk, explaining to your coworker why you wouldn't be there when she arrived to take over your shift. a silence filled the car, and you felt the need to talk, but chose not to, worried about giving yeosang another reason to hate you.

once you arrived outside your apartment building, you were surprised that yeosang got out the car too and trailed closely behind you up the stairs to your apartment. when you reached the door you spun around to face him.

"thank you for bringing me home." you said, voice quiet and still rather shaken up.

"it's no problem. good night, y/n." he replied, sensing that you were still upset. he suddenly felt this overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around you tightly and not let go until you stopped crying. he wanted to protect you from every drunk idiot on the planet. he wanted to make you feel safe.

but instead, he watched as you closed the door behind you and locked it from inside.

————————

you arrived at work the next morning, instantly feeling more comfortable with cleaners, employees and people coming and going. immediately, you headed for your boss's office.

"good morning, sir. i just wanted to come and apologise for leaving my shift early last night. i can assure you it won't happen again." you said, feeling nervous as to what your boss might say.

he shook his head, "i should be the one apologising, a man came in this morning and spoke very sternly about the safety problems here. i realise now how stupid it was of me to make you work night shift, alone, at such a young age. we've hired security guards and have also made sure that two people will be on desk at all times. i'm sorry that you had to deal with that."

you were at a loss for words, you didn't think that there would be such drastic changes just from the once incident. "thank you so much." you replied.

"for now, take the rest of the day off. you'll only be working day shifts for next week and can return to doing night shifts whenever you feel ready to do so." your boss said, motioning for the door.

the rest of the day you spent in deep sleep, catching up on some much overdue rest.

———————

weeks passed and you found that work was much more enjoyable. you still hadn't returned to working night shifts, but at least now you had someone to run the front desk with you and keep you company.

this weekend, you were going to visit hongjoong and seonghwa. hongjoong was sick and so you decided to go help out since seonghwa couldn't always be there to look after him.

you knocked on their front door and was surprised to be greeted by san.

"good afternoon! come in." he gave you a hug before ushering you inside.

"what are you doing here?" you said, following him down the hall.

in the living room, you saw all eight of the boys gathered around a couch-ridden hongjoong.

"jongho was already here when me, yeosang and woo arrived." san explained.

"yeah, and then mingi and yunho turned up." wooyoung continued.

"y/n! i have never been more glad to see you! you gotta save me from them." hongjoong laughed, arms open, signalling for a hug.

you went over and embraced him in a hug, "good thing i brought an excessive amount of cookies." you said, placing the box of cookies on the coffee table next to the couch. the table was covered in empty mugs and bowls, you could tell seonghwa had been busy and hadn't had the chance to clean up. you opened up the box and handed him a cookie before offering them around to the rest of the boys.

"you're the best cook ever." mingi said, taking a big bite.

"i made you spaghetti last night!" yunho countered, feeling offended that his roommate didn't think he was the better cook. mingi just laughed and took another bite.

"jongho get off the counter, please." seonghwa said, coming through the front door. "don't be so comfortable, you were throwing up in my toilet like a month ago." he joked.

yeosang glanced your way, his eyebrows furrowed like he was contemplating something.

"lets head off and give these two some space." yunho said, dragging mingi behind him.

wooyoung stood up, "yeah, lets get going."

yeosang pulled his keys from his pocket, "okay, bye guys." he said, heading down the hallway.

"can we get some food on the way home?" you heard san call as they left.

"bye hongjoong! i hope you're feeling better soon." jongho said, "bye seonghwa, i promise i won't throw up in your toilet any time soon." he joked, leaving through the front door.

"seonghwa, how are you? don't forget to take some time for yourself as well." you frowned.

"i'm tired, but i'll be okay. i just gotta clean up and—"

"why don't you go rest a while? i can keep hongjoong company for a few hours." you reasoned, wanting to help as much as possible. there was nothing you hated more than seeing you friends in distress and upset.

he looked between hongjoong and yourself, "i couldn't."

hongjoong let out an audible huff, "hwa! will you just let her help please, she clearly wants to."

you grinned, "exactly, now go read or sleep or watch some tv or something." you said, gently pushing him towards their shared bedroom.

you spent the afternoon tidying up and talking with hongjoong. you managed to do all the dishes and put them away before scouring their kitchen, deciding on what you could use for dinner. you found everything you needed for a decent meal and began cooking it up. hongjoong had dozed off mid conversation, surrounded in a pile of tissues, you chose to let him sleep so he would recover quicker.

about an hour later, you placed two steamy hot meals onto their dining table next to two full glasses of water. you quietly knocked on their bedroom door, finding seonghwa asleep amongst the covers.

you gently shook him awake, "hwa, i made dinner for you guys. you can wake joong up, i'll head off now." you said with a smile.

leaving the two of them to enjoy their dinner, you headed home and cooked yourself something to eat. it was nice having some time to yourself, but saturday nights were becoming more and more empty as winter grew closer. december was only days away and the year would soon come to an end. you reached for the phone, suddenly desperately missing your friends despite only seeing them hours ago.

"hey woo, are you free next weekend?" you asked.

he paused a moment, "i think so, why?"

"you wanna go out with the others? it's been a while since we have all caught up for drinks."

"count me in!" wooyoung cheered.

you called everyone else up and they all agreed, even hongjoong promised to come if he was feeling better.

————————

you found yourself surrounded by wooyoung, san, yunho and mingi as the music blared. it was a less popular club on the far side of town but it was a comfortable place for you all. you often came here for drinks and the staff members knew you, quite well, a little too well. san grabbed your hand and spun you around a few times with the music.

you laughed, leaning against him, "maybe spinning around isn't the best idea right after two shots of vodka."

"what?" san yelled into your ear, struggling to hear you over the music.

you laughed louder, pulling him closer to you, "i said, spinning is not a good idea after drinking vodka!"

"oh!" he joined you in laughing before trying to twirl you around once more.

hongjoong and seonghwa sat at the bar, holding hands and being intimate as always. yeosang was sat next to jongho at a booth, quietly talking with him, but from the corner of your eye, you saw jongho stand up and walk away. your eyes watched him worriedly and you couldn't help but run after him. you followed him as best you could, stumbling every now and then. he'd gone to the bathroom so you patiently waited outside until he came back, looking slightly pale.

you practically leapt at him, doing a quick scan to make sure he was okay, "jongho? are you alright?"

he smiled at your overwhelming concern, "yeah, i just drank too much as usual. i'll be alright, you can go back to dancing."

"let me just get you some water first. i'll be right back okay?" you patted his shoulder. "don't go anywhere i'll be back in a second."

you made your way back to where jongho had been sitting with yeosang. as you approached, yeosang eyed you up and down, taking in your drunken state, though, it wasn't the first time he'd seen you this way. you nearly tripped as you reached the table, struggling to walk in heels.

"i need a glass of water, do you have a glass of water? jongho needs a glass of water." you mumbled to yourself, reaching for the jug in the center of the table.

"are you okay?" yeosang asked, quickly pushing your hand away from the jug.

"i'm okay, but jongho needs water. can i take this cup? he's waiting for me, i told him not to go anywhere, i need to get back to jongho—" you tried to pick up a glass but yeosang pressed your hand back down once more.

"i'll take it to him, you stay here." he said, filling the cup full with water and heading towards the bathrooms.

your brain suddenly felt fuzzy and your eyes became blurry, it was like the alcohol hit your system all at once. your head spun round and round and you leaned forward, resting your hands on your head. you'd never felt this sick from drinking, maybe you'd had too much too quickly, maybe it was the spinning. there was no way to tell, all you knew was that you felt like you were about to fall from the top of a very high roller coaster.

your eyes felt increasingly heavy, you allowed them to slip shut, head falling to the table with a not so gentle thud.

"y/n?" someone shook you, "y/n wake up!" it was wooyoung.

"shit, is she okay? should we call an ambulance?" jongho said, reaching for his phone.

"is she breathing? has anyone checked?" seonghwa gently lifted your shoulders and sat you upright, relieved to see the rise and fall of your chest. "we should call a taxi and get her home."

"are you crazy? she's unconscious, she won't be able to get up the stairs to her apartment! what if the driver is dodgy? she's already had to deal with shitty men while working night shift, imagine if something happened while she's drunk!" yeosang blurted out. the boys were shocked over his sudden concern for you. yeosang had never once shown any interest or care for you in the presence of them.

"well, what should we do then?" mingi asked, worriedly running a hand through his hair.

"i'll take her, you've all been drinking." yeosang concluded. "she'll be fine, don't worry. enjoy the rest of your night, okay? i've dealt with woo passing out before remember?"

"that's true." san said, throwing a light hearted glare in wooyoung's direction, who showed a rather sheepish expression.

the boys went back to their drinks, taking it a little slower now and yeosang carried you to his car. it wasn't easy, but he managed to sit you upright in the back seat of his car with his rear view mirror aimed directly at you so he could make sure you were okay.

he was able to lift you up the stairs and get your house key from the pocket of your jacket, which would've looked questionable to anyone else, but he had the best intentions. he sat you down in a dining chair, watching as your head lolled forward and your body slumped. he quickly filled a glass of water and came back to you.

"y/n." he whispered, resting a hand on your shoulder. "y/n." he said again, louder this time.

the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, but you weren't waking up and that was becoming concerning. he shook your shoulder, as gently as he possible could in a moment like this, and to his relief, your eyes hesitantly opened.

your head felt like a bowling ball and you groaned quietly. "yeosang?"

"here." he said holding the cup to your lips, allowing you to take a small sip.

"how did we get here?" you mumbled, head rolling to the side.

he caught your head and carefully pushed you back upright, "i drove you, this is your apartment."

"oh." you said, eyes drooping shut again. "oh." you repeated.

"y/n, i really need you to stay awake right now." he said, bringing the cup to your mouth again. "lets talk."

"we never talk!" you exclaimed. "this is the longest conversation we've ever had!"

"i know." he said, pulling up a chair to sit directly in front of you. yeosang felt that slight tug at his heart again tonight, the way you sounded so excited just to talk with him.

"no, no, no." you whined, "this is so bad!"

"what is it?"

you pouted before nervously biting your lip, "i'm really sorry."

"for what?" he questioned, leaning back in his chair.

"for ruining your night and making you stay here with me! now you just have another reason to hate me." you sighed, letting your head fall into your hands.

"i could never hate you." he said, voice barely above a whisper.

but you had fallen back asleep, so yeosang sat you upright once more and monitored you closely all night. with every minute that passed, he wished more and more that it was easier for him to show his emotions, to you especially. he wondered if maybe he wasn't so closed off that things would be different between the two of you. but it was hard for him, to let people in, he was afraid. afraid of people judging the real him, afraid of what might happen if he lets himself become vulnerable, afraid of facing his feelings about you.

you awoke hours later with a raging headache and extreme nausea. you headed straight for the bathroom and hunched over the toilet, feeling the sickest you'd ever felt. yeosang waited patiently outside the bathroom door with a glass of water and painkillers.

when you came out, he held his hand out, "take this."

you looked down at his hand and then up at him, slightly confused, "what are you doing here?"

"you passed out last night, and i drove you home because everyone else had been drinking." he said, passing the glass of water.

"oh my god." you ran a hand through your hair, "yeosang, i'm so sorry. i didn't mean to be any trouble! you must of been here all night, i promise it won't happen again, that was so stupid of me—"

"it's fine, don't worry about it." he said, shrugging, "i'll get going now, but make sure you take it easy and drink enough water." his eyes carefully scanned your body one last time, making sure you were really okay. he headed for the door and you followed.

"i'm really sorry." you frowned, feeling as though no amount of apologies would make it up to him.

he let out a slight chuckle, "it's okay, seriously y/n." he said before leaving. you heard the all too familiar jingle of his keys as the door closed behind him.

he'd stayed with you all night, eyes watching over you closely. ready at your side whenever you stirred in your sleep. he'd been there in the morning prepared with water and painkillers. this was never how it was, usually this was your job, taking care of the boys. it was your way of showing you cared, helping out wherever possible.

this wasn't like yeosang. at all.

————————

as soon as yeosang got home he was greeted by a very concerned san and wooyoung.

"is she okay?"

"are you tired?"

"did she wake up?"

he was bombarded by questions.

"she's okay, she fell asleep after a while and i made her take some painkillers when she woke up." yeosang said, collapsing onto the couch.

"so you really don't hate her then." wooyoung thought aloud.

"he can't, he spent the whole night looking after her!" san said, hitting wooyoung like it was obvious.

"owww," wooyoung rubbed his arm, "even she thinks you don't like her!"

"i know, she said last night. but she probably won't remember saying that." yeosang said, feeling increasingly drowsy from his lack of sleep.

"maybe you guys should like, talk things out?" san suggested, taking a seat next to him.

"maybe." yeosang said, drifting off into sleep.

you had spent the day curled up in bed, wondering how you could make it up to yeosang, and there was nothing more you wanted than to get to know him better, but what would he want? you called up san on that thought.

"hey sannie," you said, "i need your help, actually, is woo there as well?"

"oh my god she's alive!" you heard wooyoung call from beside san.

"what do you need help with?" san asked.

you paused a moment, "is yeosang there?"

"well yes, but he's asleep."

you groaned, "i feel so bad that he stayed up all night looking after me. i really wanna make it up to him but i don't know how. plus, it's not like he's that fond of me. maybe i should just thank him by staying out of his space."

"i don't think he'd like that." wooyoung interjected. "i still think he just needs time before opening up to you."

"i think its just me." you sighed, worriedly chewing on your bottom lip.

"hey! don't be like that! there's no reason to not like you." san scolded you for down talking yourself as he always does.

"agreed." wooyoung said, chiming in.

"i'm sure i'll work something out. thanks guys! enjoy the rest of your day!" you said.

"good luck!"

"bye y/n!"

————————

you had been staring at your phone for at least an hour, typing and retyping the message to yeosang. wooyoung gave you his number so that you could contact him when you'd finally worked out how to make it up to him. in the end, you decided that you would let him decide.

you drew in a sharp breath and squeezed your eyes tightly shut as you pressed send.

you: hey yeosang, i still feel really bad about the other day, i wanna know how i can make it up to you !!

yeosang: did wooyoung give you my number? T~T

you: yes he did.. i hope thats okay !

yeosang: of course yeosang: how about you make it up to me over a cup of coffee? >.<

you: that sounds great !! you: when are you free ?

yeosang: does tomorrow morning work for you ? i can pick you up ^_^

you: of course ! i'll see you tomorrow :)

yeosang sat in his room, facepalming. why was it so easy to be more open over text?

you on the other hand, felt your heart swell in a bizarre way. maybe it was the way you hadn't expected him to use such cute little emoticons. maybe it was the way that you'd be able to have a full conversation with him. whatever it was, excitement had taken over you.

————————

a knock pounded at your door and you rushed to open it.

"ready to go?" he asked, leaning against the door frame coolly.

"yes, lets go!" you said, sounding a little too excited.

the two of you made your way down the stairs and into yeosang's car. you found yourself smiling as you looked out the window.

your excitement hadn't gone unnoticed, "you seem awfully excited."

"i really wanted to make it up to you," you beamed. "it must've been boring to watch over me all night."

"i didn't mind so much." he said, shrugging.

you frowned, "you shouldn't of done it."

"and leave you passed out in the club?" he quirked an eyebrow up at you.

"well..."

"exactly." he said, parking the car outside a small cafe nearby his apartment. "come on, lets go inside."

you followed him in and took a seat across from him at a table close to the window. you both ordered coffees and resumed conversation.

"so, where were we?" you smiled, taking a sip of coffee.

"talking about how you wanted me to leave you passed out in the club." he said. you were almost convinced you saw a teasing smile pulling at his lips.

"right. i'm so sorry about that."

this time he actually chuckled, and you were taken aback. it was like the wall yeosang had surrounding himself was crumbling before your eyes.

"you need to apologise less." he laughed, bringing his coffee cup to his mouth for a sip. "half of the time we talk its just you saying sorry to me."

"i'm so—"

"hey!" the two of you broke into laughter.

his laugh was loud but warm and you couldn't help but notice the way his nose scrunched up cutely, the way his eyes looked full of stars and the way he brushed his hair out of his eyes after, revealing his beautiful birthmark. from that point on, you wanted to be the one to make him laugh every day.

he felt that familiar tug at his heart, the one he'd been feeling every moment he spent alone with you. the one he felt when he first met you. the one he couldn't make any sense of. it was as though his heart was a violin and you were the one playing it. (which would explain the tugging feeling.) but you were playing the sweetest song and he never wanted it to end.

the two of you laughed the morning away, gradually making up for what you'd missed over two years in a matter of two hours.

you'd discovered that even after getting him to open up more, he wasn't one for words. you found yourself talking his ear off while he listened intently, occasionally sharing his opinions and stories. in all his honesty, he didn't mind listening to you talk. he could've sat there all day, drinking countless cups of coffee, watching the way you bit your bottom lip whenever you paused to think or the way your eyes filled with sparkles when you talked about something that made you happy.

you insisted on paying for the infinite cups of coffee, as it was your way of making it up to him. he reluctantly agreed, but promised that he would pay if there ever was a next time, which he secretly hoped there would be. he'd finally had the chance to let his walls down. (it was actually more like you'd climbed the walls and torn them down with your bare hands.) but he was thankful for it.

he drove you back to your apartment, even after you persisted on walking home, seeing as it wasn't that far. he refused, insisting that he drive you. he even followed you up the stairs to the door of your apartment.

you turned around to face him, "you know, you're not so bad when you actually wanna talk to me."

"you know, you're not so bad when you're not drunk." he countered, his lips breaking into a playful grin.

you glared jokingly, "hey! don't make me apologise again."

"okay, okay. i won't." he said, raising his hands in defence.

you smiled, resting against the door, "alright, well, i've really enjoyed hanging out with you today. maybe we should catch up more often."

"maybe we should." he said, bearing a coy smile, "bye, y/n. i'll see you around."

————————

it was only about a week later he showed up at your work, at the end of your shift. you were pleasantly surprised to see him, and at first thought he was just someone coming to book a room.

"hello, are you looking for a r— yeosang?"

"when do you get off work?" he asked, glancing over to the clock.

"five minutes."

"i'll be waiting in the car, okay?" he said, turning on his heel and heading for the door.

on his way out, you saw as he ran into your boss, the two of them beginning conversation.

"it's good to see you've made those security changes." yeosang said as he nodded, extending his arm for a friendly handshake. "i'm very thankful."

your boss shook his hand, "and i'm thankful that you suggested them."

just over five minutes later you got into the passenger seat of yeosang's car.

"it was you who told my boss about the safety problems." you said, in near disbelief.

"hello, to you too." he joked sarcastically. "well, i would hate to think that the situation could happen again, so i just suggested some possible improvements. thats all." he shrugged like it was nothing.

"suddenly, i feel the need to make it up to you again." you smiled shyly.

"you can do that by accompanying me to the skate park." he said, motioning to his skateboard on the back seat.

"ah, so thats why you came."

"well yeah, i wanted to bring you to the skate park."

your heart swelled once again, feeling joyed that he wanted to share one of his favourite places with you. (despite him never telling you directly, you knew he loved the skate park as he spent majority of his high school time there when he wasn't studying.)

when you arrived, the sun was beginning to slip behind the horizon, causing the sky to glow a rosy pink. there were still a few kids, probably high schoolers, hanging around the park. you took a seat at a bench and waited for yeosang to come over, who was getting his skateboard out the car. you felt oddly out of place since you were still in your neat work uniform and didn't know the first thing about skateboarding.

yeosang rolled over with a grin plastered onto his face, you'd never seen him so happy, and it made you happy to see him this way. it was strange how all it took was a few cups of coffee for him to become a completely different person around you.

he didn't need to ask you to watch as your eyes were already glued to him as he dropped into the bowl, showing countless tricks and flips.

the truth was in fact that yeosang was grateful for you 'making it up to him'. he'd never been able to comprehend his feelings for you, if they were even feelings at all. he hated the confusion and decided it was easier to ignore it, and to an extent, ignore you, to make it go away. it had been working for the most part, until every time the two of you were alone together, he couldn't ignore the slight tug at his heart, that was becoming more of a pull over the last few weeks.

"you're amazing!" you cheered as he sat down next to you, out of breath.

"thanks." he smiled shyly, running a hand through his hair and out of his face. he leaned back, looking up at the sky. "do you sometimes wish you could see the stars from within the city? hongjoong and seonghwa are so lucky they can see them from their house."

you pondered a moment, thinking about the last time you actually saw stars in the sky. "i see stars in your eyes sometimes." you said, absent minded.

he felt warmth burning in his cheeks, "you do?"

"do what?" you turned to him, "did i say that out loud?" you gasped, covering your face in embarrassment. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to say that it was just a thought and—"

"what did i say about apologising?" he laughed. "it's getting cold, right? you ready to head home?" he asked.

you smiled, "if you are."

he drove you home and said goodbye, feeling happy about spending time alone with you once again. he couldn't stop thinking about what you said and you couldn't stop feeling like a fool for saying it.

————————

the weather got colder and colder and soon it began to snow as the days of december passed. you had spent the day helping jongho move some new furniture into his apartment. it was a difficult job, but easier with the two of you, even san and wooyoung came to help. you couldn't resist wondering where yeosang was and why he didn't come, seeing as they lived in the same building. maybe he was busy, you thought.

"hey, where's yeosang?" you asked, lifting a box and placing it on the kitchen counter.

"at home, i think he's been feeling sick or something, he hardly comes out of his room lately." wooyoung shrugged, assuming it was all good.

"if he's sick i'll bring him over some food and painkillers, maybe keep him some company." you explained, not wanting yeosang to be unwell.

"i think he'd rather be left alone, to be honest." san said, giving wooyoung a side glance that you couldn't miss.

you pulled out your phone and sent yeosang a quick message.

you: are you feeling okay? san and woo said you were sick :((

he didn't respond right away and you just figured he was asleep. but as you finished helping out at jongho's house a few hours later, he still hadn't responded. when you were sitting down to eat dinner at home, he still hadn't respond. just before you were going to turn the lights out and go to bed, he still hadn't responded.

something was up. this wasn't like yeosang, not anymore. not since the two of you had been spending so much time together. maybe it was like the boys said, and he was truly very sick, but in that case, why wouldn't they let you help?

————————

days passed and you went to work as usual, repeating the same few lines, asking people if they want a room, asking them to fill in a form, then directing them to the right room. days passed and you still hadn't heard back from yeosang, you wondered if he was still sick. days passed and you began to think maybe you should go over there to see if he's okay.

but if there was one thing you'd learnt about yeosang recently, it was that he was the quieter type, and probably wouldn't appreciate you going over there to keep him company and would rather be alone. so that evening when you got off work, you didn't go visit him like you so desperately wanted to, instead, you went straight home.

you cooked and ate dinner for yourself, before picking up your phone, only to see still no messages from yeosang.

you: hey woo you: is yeosang feeling better ?

wooyoung: yeah he is

you: well then can i come visit tomorrow ?

wooyoung: i think he's busy wooyoung: sorry

you: its okay woo you: its not your fault !!

you switched your phone off and headed for the shower, trying to wash away the stress and worry for yeosang that had built up over the last few weeks. you had really grown to like him and there was still so much about him you wanted to learn, like when he learned to skateboard or how he got the small scar on the back of his hand, that you'd noticed when ever he brushes his hair out of his eyes.

two years he'd spent, not interested in holding conversation with you and two years you'd spent, wondering what you'd did so wrong. but lately, you felt like you were doing something right around him, getting him to smile and laugh, share his own stories.

you couldn't shake the feeling that maybe he still didn't like you, and had just been trying for wooyoung's sake.

or maybe he was genuinely starting to like you, but you went and fucked it up by weirding him out and telling him about his starry eyes.

or maybe he'd just had enough of you already. decided that a few weeks was enough time spent trying to change things between the two of you.

as you finished showering and changed into comfortable clothes, you glanced at the clock which read 10:56pm. you switched on the television to watch some youtube before going to bed. as you felt yourself dozing off, a faint knock sounded at your door, so quiet you almost missed it.

when you opened the door, you were shocked to see yeosang standing there, leaning against the door frame for support. he looked up at you, his normally starry eyes were dulled with tears.

you rushed forward to him, smelling the alcohol as you got closer, "yeosang are you okay? what are you doing here? i thought you were sick. are you drunk? you never drink, come inside." you gently pulled him inside, closing the door behind you. when you turned to face him, he was staring at you, tears about to spill over the brim of his eyes.

"i hate you." he breathed out, voice barely louder than a whisper. he didn't seem angry though, he looked fragile, like a glass vase balancing on the edge of a table.

you felt the urge to cry, finally hearing those three words that confirmed your biggest concern, yeosang disliking you. "yeosang, i'm so sorry. i never meant to—"

"i hate you." he said, louder this time before running a hand through his hair hastily. he let out a frustrated groan, dragging his hands down his face. "i hate the tugging feeling in my heart whenever we're alone. i hate the way you put yourself before others. i hate the way you ramble on when you're nervous. i hate the way your eyes sparkle when you laugh. i hate the way i don't drink around you because i feel the need to protect you and make sure you're safe. i hate the way i tried to ignore you for two years because i was scared and confused about my own feelings. i hate how it only took one cup of coffee with you for my walls to come crashing down!" he paced from side to side, waving his hands around crazily.

yeosang looked scared and lost, like he'd never felt this way about anyone before, and that was the truth. he didn't know how to comprehend these feelings and it terrified him.

you watched as he spiralled, seeming as though it would never stop. you weren't sure what to do, so you just listened to that swelling feeling in your heart once again, the one that had led you to develop feelings for yeosang, and you pulled him close into your arms. he clung onto you tightly, scared to let go, like if he did then he'd lose you forever. you ran your fingers through his hair briefly, trying your best to comfort him.

"i'm sorry." you repeatedly whispered to him. you'd never meant to upset him or confuse him.

yeosang let out a quiet sob into your chest, "i hate the way i've fallen in love with you." he croaked out.

he didn't hate you. never did. never will. your heart swelled completely in your chest, feeling as though it would burst through. but it couldn't be true. he's totally drunk out of his mind.

"you're not in your right mind, yeosang, you need to get home. you're drunk and talking nonsense." you embraced him tightly one more time, and you could've sworn you felt the beat of his heart through the hug. "come on," you urged, steering him towards the door, "wooyoung and san are probably worried and waiting up for you."

with much effort, you led him down the stairs of your apartment block and walked him home. the street lamps led you in the freezing city night air. you held his wrist lightly, guiding him up the stairs to his own apartment. he didn't speak a single word the whole time, instead, sniffling and wiping at his eyes. it hurt you so much to see him this broken, but you knew he wasn't saying the truth under control of the alcohol in his veins.

you knocked at his apartment door, hoping that one of the boys were still awake. luckily, they both were and quickly they flung the door open.

"y/n? yeosang?" san questioned, his eyes wide open with disbelief.

"we've been so worried about you!" wooyoung said, pulling yeosang away from you. "hang on, are you drunk?"

san had noticed his tired, tear stained eyes, "you look like you've been crying! are you okay?"

you let out a quiet sigh, knowing you didn't need to be here anymore. you gave a small wave goodbye and headed home, utterly exhausted.

and though you were so drained, you couldn't seem to fall asleep. those words yeosang said to you kept running through your mind busily.

did he mean any of it?

————————

yeosang felt bad. he felt terrible. like he wanted to vanish into thin air and float away with the breeze. though he couldn't, no, he desperately wanted to apologise to you. but he didn't know how, he wasn't good with words or expressing his feelings, and you wished he knew that was something you loved about him.

wooyoung and san tried to ask him what happened the night he drunkenly confessed to you, but he couldn't have them know that he'd been harbouring feelings for you for all this time, they'd never let him live it down. he could imagine the continuous teasing they'd give him, nudging him whenever you were together or giving him side glances after talking to you.

yeosang gave it lots of thought. he mulled it over in his head repeatedly. it was only after hours spent hidden away in his room that he decided to go back to where it all started, a text. a text that said how much he wanted to make it up to you for having to deal with him drunk, just like the one you'd sent initially.

yeosang: hey y/n, i feel really bad about the other day, i wanna know how i can make it up to you! T^T

your heart leapt a mile seeing his name appear on your phone. you grinned upon reading his message, realising it was scarily similar to the message you had first sent him.

you: hmmm you: that sounds familiar

yeosang: >.< yeosang: seriously though, how does dinner at my place tomorrow night sound? i'll cook

you: you can cook?

yeosang: there's a lot you don't know about me x_x

you: okay, i'll be there !!

————————

yeosang wasn't lying when he said he can cook. as you traipsed up the stairs of his apartment block you could smell something delicious laced in the air.

the usual swelling in your heart had instead fell to the pit of your stomach, you were feeling slightly nervous as to what would happen when you entered yeosang's apartment. you inhaled deeply before knocking at the door of his apartment.

"hey y/n, come in." yeosang greeted, holding an arm out, signalling for you to come inside.

"you must've been working hard cooking! it smells delicious." you said, feeling a sense of comfort just from the smell of food.

"yeah, lucky i sent wooyoung and san over to jongho's place, otherwise i doubt there would be any pasta to serve." he joked. "you can take a seat, i've just gotta serve up."

you sat down in front of a neatly laid table, it had somewhat surprised you how much effort yeosang had put into this dinner tonight. he placed a steamy hot plate of pasta in front of you and one where he would sit.

"so." he began.

"so." you copied, teasingly.

"i guess, i really just wanted to say i'm sorry for how i behaved the other night when i was drunk. you shouldn't of had to deal with that." he frowned, poking at his dinner.

you furrowed your brows, "it's seriously fine yeosang." you took a bite of pasta, "i was just surprised to see you drunk, since you never drink."

he chuckled, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth, "actually, i do. i just never drink when you're there."

"really? why?" you questioned, eating another mouthful of pasta.

"because..." he paused. "no, it sounds dumb out loud."

"it's okay, you don't have to explain yourself." you smiled warmly, "but that does remind me to ask... do you remember anything you said to me while you were drunk?" you leant forward, genuinely curious.

he sighed, "i remember.. enough."

"you don't really hate me, right?" you asked, playing with the food on your plate.

"of course not! that's why i invited you here tonight. to show you that i don't, and to make it up to you." he had to refrain from reaching across to hold your hand, just to show how much he cared that little bit more.

you nodded, "well, thats good. i was kinda worried that we'd gone back to square one."

comfort settled within you. it was relieving to know you weren't hated by the one person whose love you wanted most. a tiny thought crept into your mind, maybe, just maybe, now would be the right time to tell him about your blossoming feelings for him. or would that confuse him more? now you were the one feeling conflicted.

"are you finished eating?" he asked, reaching for your empty plate.

"yes, thank you! it was delicious. you're a good cook, y'know."

"ah, thanks y/n." he turned away to hide the blush appearing on his cheeks.

"would you like me to do the dishes? since you cooked." you offered, standing up. but he quickly opposed.

"don't be ridiculous." he shooed you back to your seat. "can i get you a coffee? water? wine?"

"a coffee sounds good, i think you and i have had too many drunken situations lately." you laughed.

yeosang pulled out two mugs and put the kettle on. he felt your eyes carefully watching him. once again, he hated the feeling that was pulling at his heart. the way you could say nothing, yet he felt everything.

"can i tell you something?" you asked, voice now quieter and more hesitant.

"sure, what is it?" he said, placing a warm cup of coffee in front of you.

you took a sip, humming in delight. it was exactly the way you liked it. when the two of you went out for coffee, he had unintentionally remembered just the way you like it.

"well," you began cautiously, in case you brought this situation into flames again. "i just... i always wondered why you didn't like me. if i was doing something wrong, if i said something once that really upset you. and then after we started spending time together, i finally felt like i was doing the right thing." you groaned, frustrated with yourself for not getting to the point quicker. "what i'm trying to say is that i have feelings for you. it's okay if you don't feel the same way. i wouldn't expect you to, i just thought you should know—"

yeosang basically choked on his coffee, eyes widening in shock. "it's okay, y/n! in case you hadn't noticed, i'm crazy about you."

you had continued to ramble nervously before hearing what he said.

"wait. you are?"

"basically ever since you said that thing about stars in my eyes, yes."

you cringed, remembering how you had said that so absent minded. "yeah, sorry about that."

"it's okay, it was cute. and what did i say about apologising?"

you shook your head and smiled, "i know."

————————

ever since the two of you confessed to each other, you had been almost inseparable, except of course when you had work. but he dropped you home most nights, even though you insisted it was okay and that you could walk. he came over every weekend just to spend time with you, even if the two of you just sat and talked, enjoying each other's company. you'd been dating for a few weeks now, but kept it undercover, not wanting to suffer the incessant questioning that would come if you told your friends.

it didn't go unnoticed either, wooyoung and san were constantly nagging yeosang about why the two of you spent so much time together, and each time he just shrugged it off.

christmas was just around the corner, so you were spending the evening at seonghwa's and hongjoong's house, who of course, were throwing an unnecessarily large house party to celebrate.

you were sat between a very drunk yunho and mingi, who were trying to talk to an also very drunk jongho. you eyed your boyfriend from across the room, as if asking for a way out and he just laughed at the situation you were stuck in.

after at least ten minutes more of having your ear talked off, yeosang came to pull you away to the dance floor.

"care to dance?" he asked, extending his hand to you.

you immediately jumped up, latching onto his hand, "i would love to!"

he chuckled, pulling you close to his side and leading you to the makeshift dance floor that seonghwa and hongjoong created.

the two of you laughed at the boys' reaction. they were completely shocked to see the two of you so close together and yeosang being friendly.

he twirled you around a few times with the music, before settling his arms around your waist. he brought you near to him as you placed your arms behind his neck. you swayed back and forth, engulfed in your own little bubble of comfort in each other's arms, completely out of time with the loud thumping music that blared around you.

you felt content, and yeosang no longer felt confused. he found his home in your arms and his happiness.

you reached up to place your lips on his, capturing the moment surrounding you. yeosang melted into the kiss, discovering that your lips were soft and sweet against his, just as he had imagined, which caused his knees to feel weak and his heart to skip more than just one beat. he never wanted to let you go, he wanted to compensate for every second that he didn't spend with you since the two of you met.

he leaned forward and whispered softly, just so you could hear above all the music and singing, "lets stay like this forever."

[moonbaby26]

(gif from Jason Passaro’s youtube edit here)

Title: One Shitty Friday Night (Part 1)

Pairings: Peter Maximoff x Fem!Reader, Colossus x Shadowcat

Summary: Set after the events of Deadpool 2, you and your boyfriend Peter are on a double date downtown with your fellow X-Men Piotr Rasputin (Colossus) and Kitty Pryde (Shadowcat) when Deadpool and Russell arrive unexpectedly. Chaos and violence naturally ensues, including taking down mafia henchmen, dealing with news media and paparazzi who circle in with the action, and a jealous Peter. This will be concluded in Part 2 with the mixed reactions of Logan, Charles, and Erik when you all bring Wade and Russell back home, etc. 😄

Notes: For simplicity’s sake as Piotr R. is normally called “Peter” as well, he’ll just be referred to as Colossus here.

Warnings: Some alcohol use. And it’s Deadpool, so a lot of cursing and irreverent jokes of course. This started out as just crack!fic that became actual fic that had to be split into two parts because it hit post limit. Holy cow.

Peter Maximoff x Reader Masterlist

—————————

Kitty all but snorted, trying to put her drink back down on the table before it could end up fully sideways instead as her laughter left her trembling.

Colossus sighed quietly, but you could still see the warmth in his eyes as he looked down at her before helping dab up some of her errant wine off the table with a thick cloth napkin.

It was late Friday night, and save for your semi disapproving, large and very Russian designated driver, the other three of you were now several drinks deep and a bit too loudly enjoying Peter’s retelling of the Led Zeppelin cover band debacle. You’d been there with him that night, but it never got old the way Peter told it.

“I shit you not, and this guy still keeps hitting on Jean.” Peter continued, his third nearly empty glass of craft beer still in hand. “Scott’s about to fry the dude. They’re playing Immigrant Song, and these lasers start up. All dudebros in the club go wild, and Scott tries to sneak off a warning shot. Freaking air balls it! I have to move like forty people and it still blows a damn hole in the wall. But nobody even noticed! Fake Robert Plant is screaming his heart out and everybody is just eating it up. I swear my Dad could have flown in there, cape billowing and they still would have thought it was part of the show!”

You were at risk of being elbowed in this small restaurant booth, with how animated Peter was as he spoke beside you. But you didn’t mind. The lighting was dim, possibly verging on romantic, the smell of good food from the kitchen reminded you of what was to come, and you were just enjoying time with some of your favorite people.

When Peter did finally drop his hand again though, the not so subtle movements of it then up your thigh also promised something much more personal later tonight. Maybe it was the warmth from the mixed drinks you were also nursing, but you shifted your leg a little, pushing even more into his touch under the table. Your movement just signaled your silent agreement to him that tonight would be a perfect night to be throwing clothes on the floor as soon as you got back to your shared room at the mansion.

It’d been a long, tiring week after all. Helping teach classes during the day and training your ass off in the danger room every night, you didn’t think it was unreasonable to cut loose a bit now.

Even Colossus was chuckling a little at last, but the big guy was always softest around Kitty. You in particular had been one of her biggest supporters when she’d first confessed her attraction towards him. You’d noticed his bashfulness with her as well, and all the little glances he’d given her long before she’d ever worked up the courage to ask him out.

But that seemed so long ago now, it was hard to really remember a time when they weren’t together. Almost as long as you and Peter really.

You glanced up as the waiter came back by to check on you all, saying your food would be out in a few more minutes and asking if anyone needed more drinks.

“Oh gosh, we’re really running up the tab right?” Kitty smiled.

You could see the little bit of relief in Colossus’ expression as she waved the waiter off though, her current wine glass still nearly full. “I’m fine for now, thank you.”

Peter glanced at you and you nodded as well. A buzz was fine, but you didn’t want to be climbing the mansion stairs full on drunk tonight. “I’m good.”

As the waiter left, your conversation got a little more subdued. You leaned into Peter somewhat, hip to hip in the booth as he put his arm around your waist.

Kitty was now talking about a movie she thought you should all go see next weekend if you could. You were just in the process of agreeing as you’d wanted to see it too, when Colossus suddenly went stock still, a look of real surprise on his face.

Kitty evidently noticed as soon as you did, you both staring up at him in unison.

“Do not turn around,” He instructed to you and Peter, eyes locked on something behind you.

Of course when told to do one thing, it would take everything in Peter’s willpower to not do the opposite. But to his credit he actually did hesitate. “Do we need to be dodging something? I mean, I can move us if I need to, man. You just gotta let me know.” Peter stated.

“I don’t think he’s seen us yet. Please do not draw attention.” Colossus responded, still frustratingly vague to the rest of you.

But he hadn’t metaled up yet, his skin still entirely human looking. So on the plus side, it couldn’t be someone he thought an immediate physical threat.

You glanced to Kitty for some hope of explanation as she was seated beside Colossus and facing the same direction. But she was too short in comparison to him, and couldn’t see all the way across the booth dividers as easily as he could. “Well who is it?” Kitty demanded quietly.

But you heard an impatient voice carry over clearly from the nearby restaurant entrance.

“Look, you know he’s here. I know he’s here. Don’t make me leave you guys a bad Yelp review. I will totally Karen that shit up. I’m just here for him.” A pause. “...And some of the cannolis. God, I love those things. You went a little scarce on the filling last time though. Don’t make me add that to the Yelp review.”

You heard the hostess stutter, fear evidently building. “Sir, firearms are not allowed in this restaurant. The owner, he, I...I can’t.”

There was a loud sigh from the man, the distinct sound of a gun cocking, and then all hell broke loose.

“WADE!” Colossus screamed, your entire table flipping as he stood up, metal now encasing him in this even larger form.

Abruptly you were now standing back by the entrance yourself. Peter had one arm around you, and the other around Kitty as he let you both go just as instantly, having just brought you there before he disappeared again.

That little flare up of vertigo from the speed and sudden stop didn’t mix well with the alcohol, and she and you both stood there another moment, queasy as Peter appeared again with an armful of guns.

It would have been comical as he clearly had no idea where to put them now, but everyone else that had still been in the restaurant was already screaming and running for the doors in a panic.

The owner of the multiple guns couldn’t care less about the crowd however, only turning his full focus to the lot of you then in exasperation.

“Oh my God, you anti second amendment, mother fuckers. I’m in the middle of a job here!”

“You can’t just point guns at innocent people, Wade! We have talked about this many times!” Colossus retorted, all seven foot of him now standing over Deadpool with paternal like annoyance.

“For fuck’s sake, it’s called a threat. I wasn’t going to kill her you overprotective, asshat! Now Giovanni is probably holed up in some pussy ass panic room, or he’s already ghosted me out the back door! And yes, I know that is such a stereotypical mob boss name and totally sounds like the Pokemon villain. Fuck him and his always trying to take Pikachu! He had a talking cat the whole time who just wanted his love, but no, got to have the electric rat. Fuck!”

“Language, Wade!” Colossus scolded. “There is still a child present!”

And honestly in all this insanity, that was the first time you actually noticed Russell also still standing there. Everyone else in the room had now fled out into the street.

“I’m fucking fourteen,” The boy replied defiantly. “And yeah, we were working!”

“Daddy and angrier metal daddy are just talking, hon.” Deadpool commented, waving a hand.

There was a small gust of air beside you and you looked to Peter knowingly. Wade’s guns were now all on a table, though intentionally still distant from your current position. “So I just made a couple laps.” Peter spoke up. “The cops are already coming, and there’s still a bunch of guys in the basement. They were opening some crates, probably getting weapons? I didn’t know if we were taking them out yet though. I didn’t touch anything. But is Giovanni like a big dude with gold rings and all?”

“I’m telling you besides the drug and human trafficking, it’s practically more criminal how much he sets back Italian-American stereotypes. They are an honest, manicotti making people goddamn it.” Deadpool answered.

You really were starting to regret the amount of drinks you’d had. If you’d known tonight was going to be anything like this, you would have gladly stuck to water. Your head was already trying to throb a little as you finally spoke. “So, does this guy actually have warrants out on him? If the cops come, they’re all going to end up shooting each other most likely. Can we just defuse this by giving him up to them?”

“I would say we assist to prevent unnecessary bloodshed, if that is the case, yes. I’m sure the Professor would prefer that.” Colossus agreed.

“Freaking goody two shoes, all of you.” Wade sighed. “But he has to get arrested or dead okay? I don’t get paid otherwise.” He paused though, then looking back up to Colossus before suddenly elbowing him. As if he’d even really feel that. “And hello rudeness, are you not going to introduce me to your little girls night out club here before we go bust some heads in a gratuitous X-Force/X-Men hotties crossover?”

“X-Force?” Kitty asked, sounding as already over this as could be.

“Well, we are a little empty on the roster at the moment. Some...unfortunate parachuting incidents. Wind advisory that day. You know how it goes.” Deadpool shrugged.

By her expression, no. She did not know how it went.

But the sooner you started, the sooner this could be over. Colossus motioned to each of you in turn, “Peter, (Y/N), and Kitty. These are my teammates and friends.” He nodded back to Deadpool, “And this is Wade.” And then to the boy. “And Russell.”

Of course you already knew who they both were. It’d been a bit of a scandal really, with the whole Essex House fiasco and the deaths that had occurred there. Fair or not, a lot of the blame had ended up on Juggernaut the second time around though you thought. Which is why Charles hadn’t had to deal with too much bad press in the aftermath.

You could not let this become another Essex House situation for the X-Men though. You were about to speak up about heading to the basement together and Deadpool staying out of your way so you all could neutralize everyone without any fatal hits, when he gasped dramatically, making you freeze again.

“Kitty!? Like an actual girl named Kitty? Oh my God, this whole time I thought you were his cat!” He hit his own leg, laughing. “I’m thinking, holy shit this guy loves his goddamn cat, but who am I to judge you know? I had a dog named Mr. Shuggums. Cutest little fucker.” He took a breath. “I miss him.”

“Wade.” Colossus groaned. “We do not have all night.”

Okay, so there was still something sweet about Colossus gushing about his girlfriend even to this manic mercenary. But no kidding, this show really needed to get on the road here.

“Guys, why don’t we just let Peter disarm them all, Colossus, you grab Giovanni, and Kitty and I deal with anyone who still resists? No one has to get hurt, and then it’s all done, easy.”

“And then we go find somewhere else to eat. Killing me here. I wanted that damn calzone and tiramisu.” Peter sighed, pulling his goggles back down over his eyes again. “More guns coming up.”

He disappeared at once, but when he didn’t return immediately as you were so accustomed to, you and Kitty exchanged a nervous look.

And after only another few seconds, your instincts told you something had definitely gone wrong.

“Is the basement directly beneath us?” You asked Deadpool sharply, already reaching out a hand to Kitty. Your adrenaline was starting, all good feelings gone as it was now time to act.

But you’d worked together long enough now, you didn’t have to explain your plan to her or Colossus.

Yet when the previously mouthy merc had no instant response, just staring at you in thought, it was clear he hadn’t done any recon beforehand at all. He’d literally just walked in here and expected everything to work out.

“Perfect.” Kitty said sarcastically, glancing quickly to Colossus as she took your hand. “You’re our backup, dear, in case our vertical entrance doesn’t work out. Come find us.”

“Always.” He said, already turning, his weight shaking the floor as he ran to look for any stairway downward while you and Kitty dropped straight through the floor.

It was surely a risk of its own to use her phasing ability so blindly as this. You could end up in a too small crawlspace, in underground piping, a sewer system, anything really. She’d make sure not to go solid until it was safe, as to not impale or bury you alive of course. But if Peter were in trouble, there was no time to waste by ending up at a dead end and having to go back up and try again.

You’d held your breath, as there was no way for you to process oxygen either as your lungs and every other part of you shifted through the other matter. It was darkness and insulation, pipes, and conduit that flashed by at first. But in the fractions of seconds that it took to fall, you had already powered up. The white light of your energy field overtaking your body, shielding you both as you did fall into a larger open area.

It was even darker than the restaurant above, all concrete and dampness. The glow from your body was the brightest thing there as much more men than you’d expected all turned in surprise. You saw the glint of multiple gun barrels now, but the thing you wanted to see most was Peter’s silver hair as you’d scanned the area for him instantly.

There was a stairwell in the distance. He was laying near the bottom of it. But you had no time to be shocked or afraid, only anger swelled as you released Kitty’s hand, making you solid again. “I’ll get him.” Was all you said. Letting her know to protect herself as you flew to him. Bullets couldn’t hurt her if she was ready for them. But Peter would be defenseless without one of you now, and by means of your power of flight you were the faster of you and her.

The man closest to Peter had a different kind of gun though you realized. Something you didn’t recognize at all as he aimed at you. You splayed your palms to create an energy shield in front of you as he pulled the trigger.

It didn’t make a sound though. But everything around you instantly distorted as pain exploded through you. You saw five or six of him now, as your feet hit the ground, unable to concentrate enough to fly then. But even as you stumbled, realizing your shielding wasn’t fully stopping whatever that weapon was doing, you were still able to expand your shield rapidly, hitting the man with the force of a car in your pain and sending him flying into a nearby wall, the weapon clattering to the ground lightly against his now limp body.

But you still felt like you were going to puke.

“Kill them you idiots!” Someone screamed.

You dropped yourself, laying over Peter just as quickly, grateful to feel him breathing as you focused through the pain to extend a shield around you both as the gunfire started.

“Bitch!” Another man yelled as Kitty just walked unharmed through all the flying bullets towards you.

“Shadowcat actually,” She said, skilled enough in her powers to choose what was solid and what wasn’t. Just the outside of her fist being all she needed to crush his nose in one punch with a squirt of blood, and only the end of her foot used as she swept her leg after to knock his own right out from under him.

Even among your own team, sometimes people could forget that that petite Jewish girl was about as skilled a martial artist as anyone could be.

“Babe?” You heard against your ear though, glancing back down to Peter. There was real relief even in the chaos as you saw him smile up at you.

He talked back against your ear in the noise as Kitty continued to utterly wreck the guys around you. “I fucked up a little, right? That gun...they already had it going, aimed at the door when I came back, a trap...I think I hit every stair on the way down...I still see like three of you right now.”

“Ditto.” You breathed.

And then there was another even louder noise as the remnants of a door also came flying down the stairs. Colossus barreled in behind it like a stampeding elephant, Deadpool right behind him as they leapt over the both of you and joined the fray.

“We found the basement!” Deadpool announced gleefully, swords swinging. “Don’t think they’d even locked the door back actually, but fuck if big Russki doesn’t love a dramatic entrance!”

For a moment you thought all your words about at least trying not to kill had been for nothing, thinking Deadpool was going to chop these men into literal pieces. But even as blood sprayed left and right, you realized he was just cutting tendons. The men then unable to hold their guns, unable to stand at all as he crippled each he reached in succession.

It was still completely horrific, but hell, how much could you really ask for from someone like him? Especially when you yourself had slammed that one man into a concrete wall as if he were a ragdoll. You glanced over anxiously for a moment, glad to see him shifting a little, but still crumpled exactly where you’d thrown him. He was alive, a small relief at least.

——————————

Obviously the other gunmen hadn’t had a prayer either though once you’d all been down there together.

Colossus already had a still cursing Giovanni slung over one shoulder as you were now helping Peter back up and trying not to step in all the blood as you all walked over to Kitty.

“What a mess...very interesting weapon though,” She spoke of that odd gun that’d been used on you and Peter, it now in her hands as she turned it one way and then another examining it. “I’m bringing this back with us. The police don’t need anything like this. Hank and I can figure out how it works. And how to defend against it hopefully before we run into another one of these out in the field.”

“It seems this Giovanni was more a threat than expected,” Colossus said, giving the still squirming man an unhappy look, before looking back to you all. “Are you alright, Peter?”

“I’m still hungry.” Peter grumbled, an arm over your shoulder to still help stabilize him as his other hand went to his head as if it were pounding. He also had some bruising starting on his face, no doubt from his tumble down the stairs. “I wouldn’t have drank so damn much if I’d known we weren’t going to eat...”

With the speed of his metabolism, that alcohol likely was hitting him pretty hard now on his already empty stomach.

“We should turn this guy over and get out of here.” You agreed. Though you didn’t feel so hot yourself. Still a little nauseous from whatever that weapon did to your senses. But at least you weren’t seeing triple of everything anymore.

“Hold it, girl scouts!” Deadpool piped up, chipper as ever as he grabbed something at Giovanni’s neck before any of you could think to stop him.

The man choked just a moment though, before a piece of metal snapped off into Wade’s hands. It was a necklace, with a symbol of some sort. You saw just a glimpse of it before Deadpool pocketed it. “No proof of finishing the job, no payday for DP. No payday, then no liquor, no coke, no hookers. Am I right?”

It was too difficult to tell when if ever he was serious, and you all chose to ignore his comment, starting back up the stairs. The odd sounds of bullet fragments falling back down the stairwell caught Peter’s attention though as he gave a grossed out look to Wade for a moment.

The now impact deformed bullets were starting to work themselves back out of all the bloody holes in Deadpool’s costume. You knew where you’d seen that before of course, but Peter was the only one that actually said it aloud.

“Damn, you and Logan would be a pair.”

There was a pause, and you could swear even with the mask, you thought you saw Wade’s cheekbones move in a way that signaled he was outright grinning from ear to ear. “At least someone gets it. He still won’t return my calls though. Such a diva lately.”

Once you did get to the top of the stairs, you only found a very agitated Russell standing there, Wade’s guns in his arms. “You took long enough, the cops are outside you know. I’m not going back to jail for you!”

“Cool your tater tots, kid.” Deadpool responded lazily, in no hurry, but grabbing the weapons back to holster them all regardless.

“I could have finished this faster! I would have fried their asses!” Russell argued.

“You would have been shot. Fire does not stop bullets.” Colossus only answered matter of factly.

Russell made a face, but Wade cut him off before he could say any more.

“Now now, listen to metal daddy. No sass. And actually, I think there’s something we should talk about, champ. X-Force is way more badass and all, but we don’t exactly have a training and junior member tier yet. Maybe later. You might want to think about riding home with these guys and checking their setup out. I don’t have any powers myself to relate to you like that, except me being very shootable, devastatingly charming, sexy, smart, and a competitive level Skee-Ball player...”

Deadpool sighed, continuing. “But these guys have a Danger Room. Which is totally not a sex dungeon, yeah I was bummed about that too. But they could let you unleash that school shooter level teenage angst and burn all the shit you wanted until you really figure out your powers.”

Russel bristled. “I’m not a school shooter you prick! And you always said the X-Men were neutered dweebs and-”

Wade coughed loudly, ushering Russell forward suddenly as you all continued to walk. “Hah, kids. Such darlings. Mishear everything don’t they?”

Colossus only answered without offense though. “The offer is still open, Russell. Though you have said no before. The Professor would never turn down a young mutant in need.”

It was Peter who surprised you a little, a smirk on his face as he contributed. “Freaking sweet house too, man. Xavier’s loaded. Big screen TV, a pool, basketball court, your own room, supersonic jet. Bunch of cute girls as well, or cute boys, you know whatever you’re into.”

“I’m not gay.” Russell huffed, but actually looked to be listening now as he didn’t immediately spit back with a sarcastic retort.

Though you gave Peter a weird look and he just grinned. “What? I stayed for you didn’t I, babe? Just saying. I wasn’t exactly on board with the whole team thing before that either. I know where he’s coming from is all.”

“It’s up to you, Russell.” Kitty said more diplomatically, before returning to the matter at hand. “We’re parked at that parking garage two blocks south. Everyone meet back there, Colossus and I will hand this guy over to the cops out front. The rest of you, I’m sure there’s got to be some emergency exit you can sneak out of. Probably better to split up actually. Less attention.”

—————————

Just as Kitty had suggested, Deadpool and Russell went out one way, and you and Peter another. You came out onto another street behind the restaurant. And you’d just finally started to relax again, Peter taking your hand in his own and walking away like an honest to God normal couple for once, just out on the town together before you noticed an oddly placed white van with distinct lettering on it.

Peter saw it too just as the light from a camera hit you both.

“Hell,” You breathed.

“Want to run?” He asked seriously.

“Too late, they’d just film us ditching, and say we had something to hide.”

Your headache was returning in full force you thought as you steeled yourself, seeing the reporter now in a full sprint towards you.

“It’s Quicksilver! And (your codename)! The X-Men are here!” A woman shouted.

As you walked closer to the news van, the camera flashes only increased. It looked like a small group of paparazzi had also camped out here, hoping for this exact result. How did word travel so damn fast?

“Marcia Fletcher, WAFN nightly news!” She introduced herself at once, her camera man there just as quickly, huffing a little from the run as he got you both in focus.

You could see the lights on on his camera as she shoved her microphone in front of you and Peter. “You’re on live coverage of the Ruffiano’s restaurant shootings with WAFN. Is it true that Giovani Marcello was apprehended here tonight by the X-Men? And how did you know he was here when he’s been on Interpol’s most wanted list for four years?”

You knew without looking at him that Peter was happily deferring the speaking role to you now as you tried not to look rattled. You attempted to think of what Charles would and wouldn’t want you to say, even with the pain in your head and lingering nausea. “We didn’t know who was here. We were in the area and saw people running and went to help, that’s all.” You lied.

“But the reports of gunshots, witnesses also said Deadpool had drawn a gun on a restaurant employee and Colossus was seen inside. Is Deadpool now affiliated with the X-Men again? Did he shoot anyone?”

“Deadpool is not affiliated with the X-Men. Colossus was here tonight, but he only would have been defending anyone he thought in danger. Deadpool did not shoot anyone.” You tried to keep to short truths that time.

“But then why was Deadpool there? Should people really believe it would be a coincidence that the X-Men and Deadpool would be at the same incidence at one time if not working together?”

“Well you’re here aren’t you? Are you affiliated with us?” You replied before you could stop yourself, though still restraining the annoyance you really wanted to put into that statement. “Trouble attracts a crowd.”

Peter made a sound, a restrained laugh you knew. But before the reporter could blurt out another question, one of the now growing number of paparazzi called out, “(Your codename), hey look here! Is it true you and Quicksilver are still dating!?”

You knew better than to be baited, humoring any of them just made it worse. They were like piranhas. But Peter couldn’t help it, turning to look as so many cameras flashed. His arm slid around you protectively. “Why wouldn’t we be, dude?” He called back.

“Are you saying the photos of (your codename) and Gambit were before you two reconciling?”

It took every ounce of your self control to not respond, but oh God did you want to. It was the mission in Tanzania. You knew it. You, Storm, and Gambit. Peter had stayed in the U.S. for that one as it’d been the holidays and his Mom had wanted both he and Wanda over for some time together.

After the mission was over, the three of you had ended up on one of the beautiful Tanzanian beaches for a single day. Just a single day to yourselves.

You’d had the audacity to wear a revealing bathing suit though and you and Remy had been photographed together, him shirtless of course because it was a goddamn beach. And laughing and smiling because, surprise, you were friends! And they’d cropped Ororo out in all the closeups for complete loss of context.

It’d been a thing in some of the tabloids for a while, but you really thought that had finally blown over. Of course if anyone asked Remy, he liked to play coy on the whole subject to keep up his God’s gift to all men and women sex symbol status.

“Peter, let’s just go,” You whispered in his ear, sure anything else said would only make things worse.

But you could read him all too well, and when he turned his face to look back at you, you already knew what he was going to do. You didn’t try to stop him, because never would you humiliate him on live television with any type of rejection, but oh, you would never live this one down. Never.

He kissed you hard. And there was nothing fake about it, honestly the kind of kiss usually reserved for your bedroom as you felt heat rising up in you. The camera flashes clicking over and over as you could still taste the alcohol he’d drank before.

When he finally released you again, you gasped a little. He gave the photographers a ‘fuck you’ look, before speaking just to you. “Now we can go.”

“Fly or run?” You breathed.

“Fly please. I’m still about half out of it.” He admitted.

You powered up to some surprised and excited sounds from the crowd. Your whole body glowing white again in the energy you emitted.

“Wait, aren’t you going to stay and talk to the police!?” The reporter shouted.

“They know where to find us if they need us.” You answered, extending your energy field around Peter, before you took off vertically, making sure to get sideways over the rooftops as soon as you could though to breakup their camera angles and finally give you privacy again at last.

You landed gently atop the parking garage only a few moments later, letting him go again as you powered back down.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked, just taking your hand again though.

“No.” You said truthfully. “But, I have no idea what we’ve really just done. We still have to go home...home where the Professor always watches the 10:00 news with his late night tea.”

Peter sighed, only half joking. “We could always go stay with my Mom for a while?”

You just moved in closer, pulling him against you as you laid your head on his shoulder. “We’ll survive, babe. Somehow we always do.”

“I think that says more about you than me though. Pretty sure I’d be face down in a ditch somewhere already if it weren’t for you.”

You chuckled, wrapping your arms around his neck then before raising your head back up to kiss him once more. Much softer this time, and even longer than his jealous little display a few minutes ago.

He made one of his little noises of contentment, hands sliding down to squeeze your butt through the thin pants you were wearing. As he pulled your hips tighter against him, he broke the kiss enough to speak regretfully. “I really was hoping to get lucky tonight...”

“Same.” You smiled. It had been a while. Mostly from you both being so tired by the time you finally got in bed. Passing out on each other had more been the norm the past couple weeks. “We get some food in you, and see where things go?”

“Gross! Get a room!”

You startled at the sudden shouting, having wholly thought yourselves alone up here in the moonlight.

Peter rolled his eyes, yelling back at Russell, “Kid, we have one! And we’d already be back there by now if it wasn’t for your little mafia hunting shenanigans!”

You looked over to see Deadpool and Russell both standing in the doorway to the parking garage stairs.

Wade whistled, leaning back against the doorframe. “Way to take down that Marcia Fletcher a notch! I always found her too uppity to be honest. I think she’s still butt hurt that they didn’t give her the lead anchor spot when Carl Sanderson moved to the early bird morning show. Tanya Meyer on the 5:00 news though, that’s my girl.”

You blinked. “How...how do you know-” It was literally minutes ago, it would have taken them just this long to walk here.

Deadpool lifted up his cell phone. “Facebook live, bitches. Don’t you follow WAFN? The recipes they post from Saturday morning cooking with Pat are always delish.” He looked back down at the phone though, happily reading. “Hah! Peggy Fredrickson from Brewster, New York thinks Marcia’s contouring and drawn on eyebrows are getting worse. Fire your makeup person, Marcia.” He tapped something on the screen. “Like comment! Oh, and Michael Morris from Ridgefield says who wouldn’t do Remy LeBeau. Damn, Michael, all out and proud on main.”

Peter let go of you, taking an annoyed breath. But then looking back to you. “Please let me at least prank Remy, something, anything.”

“But he didn’t do anything.” You replied, though only more stressed now that this was already blowing up on social media.

“Exactly! He should have at least denied it! But no, Mr. cool Cajun can’t admit that you’d actually choose me over him.”

“Hey now, I think you’re looking at this the wrong way, Quickie.” Deadpool interjected. “There’s always the ménage à trois option. I mean he’s French right? And Michael from Ridgefield is just spitting truth. Who wouldn’t want to do Remy LeBeau? He could shuffle my cards anytime.”

“You guys are so fucking weird.” Russell groaned. “Can we go find your damn car now?”

But you didn’t move yet, still looking fully at Peter. “Wade’s just trying to get under your skin. We all know how Remy is. He’d flirt with a piece of cardboard if it suited him. It doesn’t mean anything to him.” You recognized that Gambit was physically attractive of course, you had eyes too after all. But that was the only extent of it. You loved Peter. Not to mention you wouldn’t at all want to get on Rogue’s bad side. She and Gambit were tumultuous enough without someone else being added to the mix.

“This is adorable, really. But I did bring ‘good job team for sending a little girl selling, gentrification funding, pencil dick mob boss to butt fucking federal prison’ cannolis. Want some?” Deadpool offered, lifting up a large takeout box you somehow hadn’t noticed before.

Peter’s shoulders dropped a little, still heavily annoyed though eyeing the box. “So does this mean you’re coming back with us too?”

Wade shrugged, “The kid doesn’t know you guys. What kind of daddy would I be if I didn’t at least go and make sure he actually wanted to stay in your little mutant commune before I ditch him there?”

“You aren’t my damned dad.” Russell said, though almost sounding too tired to argue further at this point. He reached up, taking a cannoli from the box and biting into it as he started to walk back down the stairwell. “What floor is the car on?”

“Just one down from here, you already passed it. Black SUV,” you answered. Colossus and Kitty must not have been here yet if Wade and Russell had made it all the way to the top deck without finding them.

Peter grabbed your hand again, walking with you to the doorway as he grabbed three cannolis out the box begrudgingly with his other hand. He passed one off to you, before biting into the other two in quick succession.

And you only had a moment to see all the thick scarring under Wade’s mask as he lifted it just enough to start eating one himself, before turning to follow you both out and down the stairwell.

———————————

(Concluded in Part 2 here)

[blxetsi]

Imagine pampering Reiner. I would love to kiss him silly 🙈 is it obvious he’s my favorite character?

id like to kiss him silly too 🤩🤚 tysm for the request !!!

pampering reiner after a long day (modern au)

warnings: taking care of ur man 😁👍 uhh construction worker!reiner (of age, obv), gn!reader, face care n shit idk, cute names like baby and love, mentions of sexual harrasment/assault in a workplace.

living in the city had it ups and downs. well, so did everything in life, but you never really thought about that until you moved into the city. you and reiner both came from a small town, and then went to the same college in a bigger town, before you two decided to move to the big city together. downs happened more often than ups, but anything was an up if you were with reiner. rent was expensive, especially for the shoebox of an apartment you two live in, but youve both made it into your home, a cozy little sanctuary away from the rest of this chaotic world. another down was that the city never sleeps, someone, somewhere was always working, and you too found yourself taking nightshifts at the diner you worked at. it was minimum wage, and middle aged men and women would come in and flirt (more like harass), but your coworkers were nice, and if you made sure to dress up a bit you'd get a fat tip.

you and reiner originally thought that you'd get well paying jobs as soon as you moved into the city, which was a lie. considering the time, effort, and money you both put into getting your degrees, you thought you were more than qualified for certain jobs, but you werent, and that sucked, and now your boyfriend over works himself physically building houses while you let freaks make weirdly sexual comments about you so you can earn more money. it sucks on both ends, but you know that you'd do anything to be with reiner, so you could take a couple of gropes and sleazy jokes.

today you had gotten off work early, your boss closing the store because of a family emergency. you felt bad for the man, he was nice, and offered to switch you to dish duty when he'd seen older people be weird with you, you'd declined knowing that you wouldn't earn as much in the back. he was a family man, and generous, and cared about others, which was a nice change from other employers in the past. you were surprised reiner wasn't home yet, because today was friday, and he usually got off fridays around six, but now it was almost nine, and you were starting to get a bit worried.

just as you started gnawing on your lip, your phone vibrated beside you. grabbing it you saw it was reiner calling you, and quickly paused your episode of shameless to answer. "rei, where are you ?"

"just got off work baby." he sighed.

he sounded exhausted, and you could hear cars honking so you knew he was outside.

"do you need me to come get you ?"

"no, its okay. jack's giving me a ride home."

you let out a breath, at least he didn't have to wait for the bus, getting a ride meant he'd be home faster. "okay my love. you want me to run you a bath for when you come home ?" you knew how sore reiner got from working, and being out in the sun all day. with the weather becoming warmer it would become harder on him, and he'd always forget to wear sunscreen which meant he'd burn.

he let out a soft moan. "that sounds great baby, thank you so much."

you heard talking from his end, assuming it was jack. you tried to keep listening but reiner's voice cut in again. "only ten more minutes and im back to you."

you smiled, getting excited that he'd be here so soon. "okay lovey, i'll get that bath started. i love you."

you could hear his smile on the other end. "i love you too baby, thank you so much."

you quickly said your goodbyes before hanging up, cutting him off. you felt a bit bad but quickly brushed it off as you walked to your bathroom. you got everything together, moving from the bathroom to your bedroom and back again. you set out a clean towel, a pair of sweats and a white tank top for him, as well as a hoodie if he was cold. you filled up the tub, making sure it was hot, before adding a cup of epsom salt and stirring it around with your hand. you got up again, going to the kitchen area of your little home and filling up a cup with a jug of cold water from the fridge. you brought it back to the small bathroom, sitting it on the tank cover of the toilet. he needed to be hydrated.

you were changing the sheets of your shared bed when you heard the from door open, close, then lock. reiner dropped his backpack and toed off his shoes. he hung up his jacket before slowly walking around the apartment, cracking his neck and stretching his arms above his head. "baby ? where are you ?"

"in here rei, just changing the sheets." you called out. you could hear his heavy footsteps make his way down the hall towards you.

he thought you looked beautiful. dressed in just a tee shirt (his tee shirt) and plaid pyjama pants, the lights from the city reflecting all around the room and on your body, a small lamp which casted a soft warm glow around the room, made your eyes shine.

"you don't have to change the sheets baby." he whispered, making his way over to you. he helped you put the comforter over the bed. a simple grey colour, which matched the baby pink sheets and pillow cases.

"i wanted to. you always feel good sleeping in new sheets." you answered, making your way around the bed to him. you wrapped your arms around his torso while he wrapped his around your shoulders, pulling you close and kissing your head. he sighed, and just held you while you rubbed his back.

"your bath is ready, and i left you clothes for you there too." you whispered. he hummed in response before squeezing you tighter.

"i missed you so much." his words were soft, but held a lot of weight, and your heart hurt because you knew he was working himself to the bone.

"it's okay baby, i'm here now."

he nodded before kissing your head again. he smelt your hair, sighing before pulling back to look at your face. "did you shower ?"

"when i got home, yeah."

"okay. i won't be long then."

you shook your head, moving your arms so you could hold his face in your hands. "no rei, take all the time you need. i'll wait for you." you knew that reiner was too tired to fight you on that, so he simply nodded, giving you a soft kiss before stripping down to his underwear and leaving the room.

you put his clothes in the hamper, putting his wallet on his bedside table and plugging his phone in to charge. then you opened up the window so the cool breeze could come in, you knew reiner liked the room to be a bit cooler at night.

slowly you made your way to the bathroom, peaking in to see him in the bath, the water up to his neck as he was almost fully submerged. his eyes were closed and his breathing was slow, you could see his tan lines from working. his muscles that bulged even when relaxed and the crinkles in his eyes from smiling so much, even when he was so young. his stuble which was just a bit darker than his sandy blond hair, and his calloused hands from his labour, wrapped around his torso in a hug. those hands that held you, that protected you, that tickled you, that loved you. you never got to admire reiner often, usually because he'd notice early on and tell you to stop, he'd get all flustered and his face would turn red, getting all blushy that his lover wanted to look at how beautiful he was. and he was, reiner was gorgeous, and its a blessing to call him yours.

his voice was raspy from not speaking for so long. "baby, stop looking at me like that." you could see the apples of his cheeks turn pink while his lips quirked up into a small.

"i can't help it, you're just so pretty." you replied, walking into the small bathroom and closing the door behind you. it took less than two steps to get towards him, and you crouched down beside the tub to look at him closer.

he slowly opened his eyes, like he was in a daze, before peeling an arm away from his body and holding it out for you to take. you grabbed his hand with both of yours, rubbing his palm and fingers while you softly kissed his knuckles. you two never looked away as you did so, relishing in the soft moment together.

he closed his eyes again, and sighed while moving deeper into the tub, making the water go from his neck to his chin, and his long legs stick out of the water at the knees. "you know that face mask you have baby ? the one that peels off and makes your face smooth ?" he asked, his voice echoing throughout the room.

"yeah," you mumbled against his hand. "you wanna use it ? want me to put it on for you ?"

he nodded. you slowly put his hand back into the water before crawling to the cabinet under the sink, reaching for your peel off face mask, you turned around and went back to your love, shifting as close as you could ger before the toilet got in the way, before opening the tube and squeezing some onto your hand. the clear gel felt cool on your finger tips, and you rubbed it along both pointer and middle finger on your two hands, before leaning over the side of the tub and rubbing some on his face. you made sure to keep it away from his facial hair and his eyebrows. after rubbing it in you rinsed your hands off in the bathwater, before moving them to hold reiner's hand again. "if you cant peel some if it off after its dry just rinse with warm water, okay ?" reiner nodded before squeezing your hand. "thank you baby."

you two sat in silence for a couple of minutes, just listening to each others breathing and the slight swish of the water. "i'm gonna make some tea, would you like any ?" you asked.

reiner shook his head. "i'll just steal a sip of yours."

you chuckled before kissing the back of his hand, a smile on your face. "okay my love, i'll wait for you in the bedroom."

he leaned over quickly, grabbing your face with his free hand and giving you a soft kiss, over and over again. his lips were a bit chapped, which caused your own to tickle, but to him it felt great. this was so domestic, so simple, it made him feel safe, it made reiner forget all about his horrible day. all he could think about was you, all he could feel was you.

because of your kiss some of the product from his face mask had transferred onto yours, causing him to giggle before wiping it away with his pruny hand. "i love you so much baby. i'm so happy to be with you." he whispered, his face millimetres from your own.

"thank you rei, i love you too." you responded. you loved him so much, you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. and you're sure you will.

you pecked his lips before kissing his hand one more time, then you got up and left the bathroom, reiner's eyes on you as you went.

you went about tidying up the living room, putting away reiner's dinner on the table (if he didn't scarf it down when he came in, you knew he wouldn't touch it until tomorrow) turning off the tv and folding up the blanket you were snuggled up with on the couch almost an hour ago.

you quickly boiled your water for your tea, getting out your favourite mug and putting the tea bag in. then you went into your bedroom, where you moved through the open window to sit on the fire escape. the breeze of the night brought with it a chill, and you wished you'd brought that blanket with you. the lights and the cars moving down brought comfort to you. after living here for over a year, the noise became berable to you, just second nature.

you could hear faint shuffling inside the bedroom, before reiner's head popped out of the window. "i was looking everywhere for you."

you gave him a sheepish smile. "sorry my love, would you like to join me ?" he nodded and crawled out of the window too, which was a bit hard considering his long limbs. he sat down beside you, his skin looking soft and smooth, his hair wet and all dressed in his hoodie and sweats.

the two of you huddled together, watching people walk by and cars drive around, looking into the windows of other apartments and stores, seeing if you could see the people inside doing weird things. you two passed the mug of tea between each other, before all that was left was the wet tea bag at the bottom of the cup. reiner reached up and set it on the window sill, before pulling you into his side by your shoulders.

"do your muscles hurt still ?" you asked.

reiner shook his head before replying. "not anymore, thank you again for the bath."

you giggled, turning your head to look up at him, he looked down at your own head, resting on his shoulder, and matched the smile that painted your lips. "you don't have to thank me so much silly, i love taking care of you."

he rubbed his nose against your own. "i love taking care of you too. which is why i was thinking of looking for a new job."

your eyes opened again and he watched your reaction closely. "that tech company near downtown, they're looking for a new software developer. i've already set up an interview, i just didn't know when to tell you." he whispered.

your eyes lit up as you smiled again, leaning up and smacking kisses all over his face. he let out a loud laugh before cupping your face with his hand, guiding your head away from his own so he could speak, but you started talking before that could happen. "i'm so happy for you. i hate seeing you come home so tired and in pain."

he nodded. "and i hate seeing you come home with a new story of some creep making moves on the love of my life." he replied, giving you a soft kiss.

you two sat in silence again. reiner felt happy that you weren't upset about his idea for a new job, he had a degree, and a great mind, and he somehow knew he'd get this job.

"y'know," you started. "that new art museum that opened near the science centre, they're hiring too. said on their website they're looking for tour guides."

reiner pulled you closer to him, if that was even possible. "baby you'd be great at that. you know so many art things."

"'art things?'" you laughed. "yeah, maybe i'll call and see if i could get an interview."

reiner nodded. "that sounds great baby. but tomorrow, your tea made me so sleepy and now i just wanna sleep." you shook your head with a chuckle before pecking him on the lips again.

you two made your way inside, closed the window, and got ready for bed. while you put the mug back into the kitchen sink, reiner took off his hoodie and unfolded the comforter from the bed, ready to get under. when you came back inside you shut off the lamp and got in beside him, where reiner immediately pulled you into his chest.

your head rested on his bare pec, and you could hear his heart thumping. he was calm, content, and happy with you in his arms. and you two went to bed that night with dreams about your future together.

not me going overboard with that one 😁👍 anyways love u all stay safe requests r open 😍🙏

[justcallmenikki7]

BTS Reaction To: The Times They Show Emotion

Mafia!Au

Summary: being born into the mafia world, all they know is that having emotions is weak. In the underworld they are known for being inhuman because of the lack of emotions they show. But no one knows that whenever you are with him, love is all they feel.

Warnings: mafia au, the boys are literally emotionless but not?, the boys not understanding feelings but are trying their best for you, FLUFFFF, reader doubting herself, reader just being a cutie in general

W.C.: 3k

Notes: a huge thanks to @minniepetals for the help on jungkooks, namjoons, and jimins parts along with @saturnmoon-night​  for helping me with the title! I love you both!

Seokjin:

“Princess…” Seokjin sighed, trying to not sound too harsh with you, but he just wants you to listen.

Waving him off, you gave him a scoff, “Jinnie, I know what I am doing, so hush.”

Not being used to the nickname still, Seokjin could not deny though how his heart makes this weird fluttering feeling whenever you call him ‘Jinni.’ “Do you though?” He asked, not meaning for his remark to come out rudely, and he cannot help but feel sad at your frown you unconsciously made.

“Yes, Jin, I do. It hurts that you have such lack of faith in me,” you teased, not knowing that your teasing made Seokjin feel bad.

“You know that I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry. I’ll buy you the new iPhone 12 when it comes out to make it up.” Seokjin bribed, knowing that in the underworld, bribery is the go-to source when it comes to taking over land, gangs. Presidents. But what he does not know is that you understand that he is not good with being sentimental and that him admitting that he is not good with words and that bribing you is not the go to when it comes to you. You do not care about his money or his power, all you care about is him and his health, happiness, wellbeing – him!

So, with a heavy sigh, you put down the spatula and made your way towards him. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you stood up on your tiptoes and pecked his lips. “I know that you did not mean for your words to come out like that, you should know that by now, Jinnie,” you cooed, confusing the mafia leader.

“But you were upset, and I just wanted to make you happy…” Seokjin replied dumbly.

“You make me happy. I don’t need anything fancy; I just want you, silly.”

For the first time in your six-month relationship, it dawned on Seokjin that you are here to stay. That he does not need money to make you happy, he just needs to be making you happy by being himself.

Yoongi:

To sum up Min Yoongi in one word would be detached. All Yoongi has known is survival. In order to survive you have to kill, lie, use, and make sure that you are bloodlust. In his dictionary there is no ‘love’ ‘trust’ ‘happiness.’ It all comes down to at the end of the day is survival. That is why he is the deadliest mafia boss in the underworld.

But somehow, in some sort of weird way you came crashing into his life, and it has left Yoongi confused because he likes you. From the start, he was attracted to you, and he wanted more of what you radiated which is happiness – something that Yoongi is unfamiliar with. And you know that. You know that Yoongi is unusual. Truthfully when he told you to “learn how to fucking walk, dumbass,” when you ran into him on the Seoul streets, there was something that made you fall for him. You find it ironic how you ran into him a second time at a grocery store, but you could not be any happier because it led you to where you are now – five months into an interesting relationship.

You know that Yoongi is detached because of his lifestyle, that he is not good with emotions, but actions speak louder.

Like now for example:

You decided to be a somewhat normal couple for once – much to Yoongi’s dismay – and go grocery shopping. You are extremely allergic to peanuts, but you love barbeque foods – especially when it has barbeque sauce all over it. What you did not know is that this certain sauce has peanuts in it, but Yoongi knew it did.

“No, not that sauce.” Yoongi stepped in, snatching the bottle of sauce out of your hand.

“What, why? I want to try it when I make ribs tonight.” You asked, trying to snatch the bottle back from his hand.

“Because it has peanuts in it and you’re allergic to them, that’s why.” Yoongi replied coldly, grabbing a sauce that you know that you have not tried that does not have peanuts in it. “Use this instead.” And at that, Yoongi ushered your love-struck form away from the sauces and to the cereal aisle, not knowing that he has now completely stolen your heart.

Hoseok:

Anyone who knows Hoseok knows that he does not like annoying people. He loathes people who are constantly asking him questions, bugging him, or just even breathing. Being a mafia leader is rough due to his short temper.

He just never thought that he would fall for someone who has a hyper personality and is constantly. You are the only person that he can stand and not shoot for being annoying. (Yes, Hoseok has shot a person because they were breathing too loud).

“Pleaseee?” You begged, plopping yourself in your boyfriend’s lap, giving him the puppy eyes while he works at his desk.

To an outsider, a person would think that Hoseok is about to blow a fuse. But to you, you can see the amusement in his eyes at your begging. “No.” Hoseok stated, voice harsh, something that he is trying to work on. Thankfully, you know that he is not meaning to be harsh with you.

“Why not? This is unfair!” You exaggerated, laying your head on his chest, finding comfort in the warmth and beat of his heart. “All I want is a puppy! That’s not much!”

“That means that another thing will be in here that will annoy me, and I already have you to deal with.” He bluntly stated, not realizing the impact of his words had on you.

“Oh, yeah…” you replied, getting up off of his lap, wanting to give him space.

Confused, “Where are you going?” Hosoek asked.

“The dishes need to be done, so I’m going to get them washed.” You lied lamely, wanting to give your boyfriend space.

“I have maids for a reason, jagi. Now, don’t lie to me and tell me what’s wrong.” Hoseok demanded, turning in his chair to face you with his interrogation look.

“I just don’t want to annoy you anymore; you’re working on work.” You spoke softly, looking down at your hands so you do not have to face him.

Not hearing Hoseok getting up from his chair, you jumped in surprise when he hugged you, his right hand softly pressing your head to his chest. “You’re my favorite annoyance, sunshine.” And by his simple, rare sentimental statement, your eyes stung with tears and your heart fluttered in your chest. You know that Jung Hoseok is bad with feelings and how bad he is at being kind, but the smallest and rarest times that he is always reminds you that he does, indeed, love you.

Namjoon:

The first time you met Kim Namjoon, your first impression was that he is strategic. Everything the tall male did was based off strategy and observation – it was like he is playing chess. Namjoon can admit that he plays life like it is a game of chess because of how every decision he makes will have a result that can either create chaos or peace. He told you that on your guys first date when you brought up your first impression of him.

The thing is, Namjoon is very serious – to serious sometimes that it makes you wonder if he knows any jokes. Sadly, he said that jokes are childish – to which you pouted and hung your head like a kick puppy. That did not mean you are going to give up on this! So, researching for other funny jokes and puns, you began this daily routine where you would ask him a joke or pull a pun on him. You could tell that each day Namjoon became even more impress with them, and that even a tiny twitch of his lips would happen, telling you that he is wanting to crack a smile or even laugh!

With this new founded joke, you could not wait until tomorrow to pull this joke. You have this feeling that this joke would give you the smile that you have forever been waiting for.

Knocking on Namjoon’s office door, you heard his deep baritone voice say ‘come in’ you carefully made your way into your boyfriend’s office, a huge grin covering your face. A knowing look made its way onto Namjoon’s face, a tell-tale sign that he knew what was about to go down.

“Hey, Joonie!” You asked excitedly.

“Yes, my love?” He replied, putting down the manila envelope, taking his glasses off and laying back in his chair, hands behind his head, ready for the joke that was about to come.

“What’s the difference between a well-dressed man on a bike and a poorly dressed man a unicycle?” You asked, trying to not start laughing.

You could see the twitch of Namjoon’s lips, giving you confidence that today will be the day. “What is it?” He asked.

“ATTIRE!” You screeched happily, slapping your knee from laughter, not being able to control your laughter. You made sure to keep an eye on your boyfriend, praying that he will give you some sort of reaction – and he did!

Dancing on his face was a small smile, his head shaking in disbelief. The joy and happiness that took over your body had you beaming a hundred-watt smile, finally being able to get a reaction out of your boyfriend. “Yes! You smiled! I made you smile, I made you smile! Ah-ha!” You cheered, dancing out of your boyfriend’s office, not noticing the fond and loving look your husband is giving you.

“You always make me smile, my love.” He muttered, not wiping the smile away from his face as he went back to work.

Jimin:

“What if I mess up?” You asked, doubting yourself for this biggest moment of your life. Looking down at your boyfriend of seven months helping tie the strings of your ballet shoes, you waited for his reply, already knowing it is going to be a scolding.

“Jagia, you are not going to mess up, so stop doubting yourself and start believing in yourself,” Jimin scolded, giving you a glare from the floor. “If you want me to, I can bribe the workers to let me stand to the side of the stage and watch you perform if that helps you feel better.” He offered, causing your heart to flutter at his offer and at how caring he is being right now. It is not that he is not caring, he is just not good with these kinds of situations.

“Yes! If you want too, I don’t want to seem like I am being a baby…” You replied, hoping that you are not acting weak to your mafia boyfriend.

“You’re not being a baby, Y/N. Now, go get in line, you are about to go on.” He said, tapping your calf in reassurance.

“You’ll be there, right?”

“Of course.”

Backstage, everyone was in shock to see the mafia leader, or the best hacker in the world, standing to the side of the stage, watching you with a mesmerized look. They all knew that you were dating the most dangerous person in the world, they just did not know that he would show up to support you. Truthfully, they all thought that Jimin was just dating you for sex, little did they know is that he is dating you because he loves you and wants to protect you.

Some of the girls could not deny how jealous they are of you due to how handsome, and in awe Jimin was of you by your performance. Even though his expression is blank, his eyes told a different story and that story is love. Once the song ended the lights went out, they heard your feet tapping against the stage floor and your excited squeal escaping you as you tackled your boyfriend in a hug.

“I didn’t mess up! I didn’t mess up!” They heard you yell, proud and happiness evident in your tone.

“I told you, jagia. I told you.” Jimin replied. “I would never lie to you.”

Taehyung:

Your face was pressed up against the window, eyes wide and mouth shaped into an ‘awe’ shape, taken away by how beautiful the outfit that was hanging up in the Maurices display area. Always have preferred Vigos jeans over a lot of higher named bran jeans, you desperately wanted to get the jeans and the flannel that was on the mannequin as display.

“Vigoss is not that good of a brand,” you heard Taehyung state from behind you, taking away the excitement you were feeling just before.

“Yeah, you’re right…” you replied, stepping away from the glass. “I just thought the outfit was cute, though.”

The emotions that passed Taehyung’s eyes were hidden from you since his glasses were on his face. Knowing that he put you down with his emotionless remark, Taehyung began to panic. “Come on,” Taehyung ushered, pulling you into the shop, confusing you with his actions. Walking up to the first worker in the store, “I’d like a dressing room for my girlfriend and every Vigoss jeans in the size 22 with the outfit that is on the mannequin closest to the door.” Your boyfriend ordered, walking you to the first dressing room that is opened.

Not even five minutes later, a worker named Ashley came to you with jeans, shorts, and capris in your size. Giving her a thankful smile and a small ‘sorry,’ she only give you smile back and reassurance.

“Let me know what else you need help with!” She said, giving you a warm smile before she turned away.

While you tried on every pair of pants that Ashley brought you, you walked out to the big mirror that gave you a good look at every angle, blushing each time that Taehyung watched you with a serious look. Finally deciding on two pair of pants, not wanting to spend too much, Taehyung sighed and walked into the dressing room that showed the pile of pants that you wanted to get but decided to not too.

“What are you doing?” You asked shocked as he picked up the pile of pants.

“You left these behind?” He stated obviously.

“Yeah, because it’ll be expensive. I’m fine with these two,” you said, shaking the two pair of pants in your hand to prove your point.

“You looked beautiful in all of these and you’re getting them.” He left no room to talk, not realizing the effect of his words that he had on you.

Jungkook:

The sound of your humming filled your boyfriend’s office as you put together a bouquet of flowers while your boyfriend read through files at his desk. You do not mind working in your boyfriends office, but you never understood why he started having you work in here with him instead of your own office beside his. Never questioning his actions, you got comfortable in your small area and worked. Little did you know that your presence brought your boyfriend comfort.

Getting stuck on an idea for a customers request, you looked up to see what your boyfriend was doing, it was as if a light bulb went off. Grabbing some flowers, you made your way towards your Jungkook, a small smile evident on your face. Making yourself comfortable behind him, you carefully put the headband over his head, earning a questioning look from your boyfriend when he turned his head to look at you. Smiling brightly at him, he shrugged his shoulders and allowed you to do as you pleased. Once the headband was situated, you began to place the small flowers around his head, tucking them securely into the headband so they would not fall out.

You continued this for the next thirty minutes, finally finishing with a triumph smile. Walking back over to your little station, you began to work on the order that had you stumped, now knowing what you wanted to do with it, happy that Jungkook allowed you to do as you pleased. Working on the request, you heard Jungkook grumble in annoyance.

“What’s going on?” You asked him, looking up from your design.

“Namjoon needs help with something, I’ll be back,” Jungkook explained, coming over to you to kiss the side of your head.

As you went to ask if he was going to take off the flower crown, he already walked out of his office. Shrugging, you went back to work.

As Jungkook walked down his hallway, he began to give his workers a weird look when they began to giggle and smile at him, confused as to why they are not bowing to him. Walking pass the mirror that was hung on the wall in the opened area, he caught a glimpse at the flowers on his head. Realizing that this is the reason why his workers smiling at him, he shook his head with a small smile of his own.

“The things I do for you, princess. They things I do for you,” he whispered, not making any move to remove the flowers from the top of his head.

[champagne-bucky]

The Things We Do for Money

Summary: Your boss is a pain in the ass… sometimes 

Warnings: Chris Evans x Reader, smut, oral (female receiving), a bit of drunk! Chris

Notes: I know Chris Evans has big brat energy and I needed to get it out of my system.

There was no one on this planet who could hate their job as much as you hate yours. Sometimes you’d curse yourself out for agreeing to take on this stupid assistants job, but you were in a pinch and desperately needed the money. Now here you are, stuck three months in with the most absurd and demanding boss. He always has you doing his bitch work for him.

Okay, you’ll run out and get him a coffee from time to time when he’s at work. You’ll go run the errands and make the phone calls he’s unable to make, but you drew the line the second he asked you to do the most dumbest tasks for him. 

He started acting ridiculous literally a month into the job, when he called you at the ungodly hour of 5 a.m. Turns out the dumbass couldn’t find his running shoes and you had schlepped yourself half an hour to his house only to find them under the bed the first minute of your arrival. Then, he’d call you for things like tying his shoe laces “because his hands were tired”, whatever the fuck that means, or picking out his evening wear when he’d go out with the guys (and he’d never end up liking what you picked out!)

Now here you are, in your cold ass car in the middle of a Boston winter, driving to your bosses house at the crack ass of dawn. You were annoyed because the night before he’d kept you up till late rattling off your To-Do list for the very next day, half the stuff would probably be scratched from the list anyways. 

Your phone started to ring and you groaned knowing exactly who it was... BECAUSE WHO ELSE WAS UP THIS EARLY!?!?

“Yes, Chris,” you grumbled.

“Whoa, whoa, someone’s a little grouchy for 5:30 in the morning. Speaking of, you’re 30 minutes too late,” you wanted to cure the bastard out, but then he followed up with a laugh.

“Kidding, kidding, anyways, Assistant, I need a favor,” here we go…

“I’m your assistant, doing you favors is my job description, and I have a name you know.”

“Eh, Assistant suits you better. Anyways, if you could run to the shop and pick up my shoes for that award show I have later, oh, and schedule me a haircut would you? You know what to tell them,” this man was way too cheery for this early in the morning.

“No, it does not, the award show is three months away, and no, I do not know how you get your haircut, and I don’t want to know,” Chris responded with a low whistle.

“Gee, someone’s a little cranky monster. Let’s fix that frown before you come over okay?” you grit your teeth. Chris didn’t like a nasty attitude and he had the power to fire you for it.

“Yes, Mr. Evans,” you huffed and he hung up the phone after telling you a few more demands.

__

As much as this man was slowly pushing you towards your breaking point, the job came with perks. One of those being travel. You never had an opportunity to travel a lot and working for Chris gave you the chance. From Singapore to Australia, you finally got to see what was beyond your small town of Massachusetts. 

Right now, you were in Atlanta where Chris was filming a new Marvel movie. You didn’t get to see much of the set, or the cast, or the inside of your bosses trailer, but you did get to see a lovely highway every couple hours while running around for that pain in the ass. However, when you got done you got to have lunch in Chris’ trailer without him, which was a big plus. Actually, every moment away from Chris was a true blessing.

“ASSISTANT” you groaned as you heard your name being called from outside the trailer. You put down your half eaten sandwich and swung open the trailer door. There stood Chris in his Captain America suit, arms crossed and tapping his foot.

“Yes, Mr. Evans?” Chris put a smile on his face and motioned you to come closer to him. You stepped closer, but he made you come even closer. You came as close to his mouth and he whispered in your ear.

“Do you know what time it is?” you pulled back from his lips with a confused expression.

“Uh, no. W-What time is it?”

“Time for you to help me out of this tight ass costume,” your eyes went wide in horror. Not this shit again.

“No, no, please Mr. Evans, can’t you ask someone else, like a male, to take off your costume,” you pleaded as marched past you.

“Nope, that’s why I hired an assistant, Assistant. Now hurry up, the boots are the hardest to get off,” you groaned and stepped into the trailer.

Chris sat down on the couch and motioned for you to get by his one boot. You grimaced and got to your knees and started to take the boot off. You tugged and tugged until it loosened a little. When it finally did, the whole room filled with a stench.

“Mr. Evans, ew, can’t you wear socks with these things,” Chris let out a deep chuckle and shook his head.

“Can’t do that or the boots will be too tight on my poor little feet,” he put out the other boot clad foot.

“Little is an understatement, sir,” Chris covered up his small groan with a clear of his throat.

“Well Assistant, you know what they say about big feet,” you choked on your spit and looked up at the man.

“They sign you big paychecks. Now hurry up, I’m getting drinks with the guys tonight,” you groaned again and worked the other boot off.

When the costume was fully off, averting your eyes where necessary, Chris was changing back into his regular clothes while a knock sounded at the door.

“Get that for me, Assistant,” you went to the door and swung it open and were faced with two of his co-workers, Anthony and Sebastian.

“Oh, assistant girl? We aren’t interrupting anything are we?” Anthony winked and Sebastian chuckled. Your cheeks were heating up at that comment when you felt Chris behind you.

“Yeah guys, just one second I gotta put on a shirt,” your eyes noticeably widened knowing Chris was right behind you, shirtless. 

The men suppressed their laughter at your shocked expression. They probably thought you were sleeping with your boss! Oh god, listen, Chris wasn’t an unattractive man, hell no, but he was your boss (and also a pain in the ass), you couldn’t cross that sort of line. 

“I’ll be going now, Assistant. Clean up for me and finish up that list,” Chris grabbed his wallet and left the trailer.

“Yes, Mr. Evans.”

Anthony and Sebastian stopped in their tracks to laugh a little. When Chris turned around to give them a ‘what’ look Anthony finally spoke. 

“Yes, Mr. Evans. I’ll clean up the trailer and then clean you up later, sir,” Anthony mocked your voice as Chris punched his arm lightly.

_

That blare of your ringtone made you shoot up out of your peaceful sleep and clutch your heart. You peered over at the time to see that it was 3 a.m. Groaning, you ignored that call without seeing who it was and tried to sleep again, but then they called you back.

You turned your light on and grabbed your phone and saw that Chris was calling you. Pissed off and tired, you answered the phone with an angry ‘what’.

“Oh, Assistant, I need you,” Chris sounded like he was slurring his words. He was still at the bar?

“Mr. Evans? Are you drunk?”

“Yessssss, I made an oopsie and had tooooo much to drink. Can you pwetty pwease come pick me up. Pleaseeeeeeeeeeee…” he dragged out the last vowel as you started looking for your keys.

“Fine, but you’re paying me overtime for this,” you slide on your shoes and run out of the hotel room to go get the big drunken baby.

It took you awhile, but you finally found the bar Chris was at. Luckily, he has always shared his phone location with you for emergencies like these. It didn’t take long to find him either seeing as he was moping on the curb nursing a beer in his hands. 

You rolled your eyes and got out of the car. Chris’ ears perked up at the sound of a door slamming shut and he immediately was smiling like a dope. 

“ASSISTANT!” He screamed and held his arms out for you. The people passing by on the sidewalk gave him dirty looks.

“Chris, shhhh, let’s get you back into the car, okay?”

“HEY! THAT’S MR. EVANS TO YOU or sir if you want to spice things up,” he barely whispered and gave you a wink. Scoffing, you shoved him into your tiny car before he took off down the street.

The drive back to Chris’ Atlanta home was a bit of a drive, but there was not much traffic on the road so it would be quicker than usual. Chris was falling asleep in the passengers seat, but would come to every so often to slur something stupid. This time, when his head went up to speak to you his words were loud and clear.

“You’re pretty,” your cheeks were heating up, but it was too dark to see.

“Thank you, Mr. Evans.”

“And kind, sweet, lovely,” he was showering you with compliment after compliment and you didn’t know how to respond.

“I like you, Assistant,” you tried to keep your composure, but you were stunned. He was drunk so that meant nothing, right?

“I would figure since you keep me around all the time,” you laughed off.

“Noooo, I really like you. Not in a “like” you, but in a “like like” like you way,” his body was now fully turned to face you. 

“Oh, well, Mr. Evans I’m flattered, but you’re my boss. I can’t ruin our professional relationship,” Chris let out a whine just as you were pulling up to his house and getting out of the car.

“Then as your boss, I demand you to like like me,” you laughed as you opened the car door for him to get out.

“Mr. Evans, you know we can’t allow that,” you tried your best to joke with him, but he kept up pestering you.

“How about a thank you for helping me get home,” you furrowed your brows as Chris unlocked his door and was leaning up on the threshold.

“Umm, Mr. Evans I-,” you didn’t get a chance to finish because Chris grabbed your face and was leaving a sloppy kiss on your lips.

Your eyes were probably wider than they have ever been in your lifetime. Chris Evans was kissing you. Chris Evans was kissing his assistant. Chris Evans was drunk and kissing a woman who he signs her paychecks for every week. 

He pulled back a few moments later with a satisfied look on his face. He was still stumbling drunk, but it seemed as if he didn’t care. Chris had a cocky grin on his face while looking at your frozen expression.

“Um, Mr. Evans, um. I’ll see you tomorrow,” and you sprinted back to your car and pulled out of the driveway, not even glancing back at your boss.

_

It had been a while since the whole drunk kiss incident. The day after that night you didn’t bring up what had happened and neither did Chris. 

You assumed that he was so drunk that he probably forgot about the kiss. To be fair, he didn’t even remember him calling you to come pick him up or the whole drive back home. He must’ve forgotten about the kiss and you intended to never bring it up.

Things between you and your boss went back to normal after that. You were still dealing with his antics and absurdities, but it paid your bills so you couldn't complain. However, Chris seemed to be lenient with you nowadays.

You couldn’t put your finger on it, but he definitely changed his demeanor recently. He let you come into work an hour later than usual, anytime you said you were unable to do something he let it slide, and he also had given you a raise out of nowhere. Maybe he was changing…

“ASSISTANT,” nevermind…

“ASSISTANT!” you followed Chris’ voice to the backyard where he was standing by the pool.

“Yes, Mr. Evans,” you rolled your eyes.

“Assistant, can you do me a favor?”

“Will I get fired for saying no?”

“Yes.”

“Then what is it,” you walked over to him as he started to take off his shirt.

“I want to go for a swim, but I don’t want to miss an important phone call I should be getting.”

“And?”

“And I want you to sit out here and watch my phone till it rings,” you looked at him in disbelief. He really wants you to babysit a phone?

“Are you serious? You just want me to sit out here and stare at your phone?”

“Well, I’d invite you to join me in the pool, but you don’t have a swimsuit,” Chris scoffed and jumped into the pool.

You rolled your eyes and took a seat on the lounge chair. If you were going to babysit his phone you might as well relax a bit. Plus, you didn’t mind the little show you were getting courtesy of Chris.

About an hour went by and still no phone call. Chris had been busy swimming laps in his pool and playing with Dodger who would jump in for a swim. Either Chris was pulling your leg just so you could watch him or this phone call was never happening. You’d think after an hour someone would call soon.

You moved to get up and go back in the kitchen to answer some emails to the rest of Chris’ team when he called for you to come back.

“Mr. Evans, it’s been an hour and no one has called. I have work to do, I can’t stand around all day watching you swim and wait for your phone to ring. You’re a big boy you can do it,” you didn’t hear him get out, but Chris was hot on your tail as you entered back in the house.

“So, you were watching me, huh,” you tried your best to hide the blush creeping up on your face.

“Not the point, sir. I need to get back to work,” Chris clicked his tongue between his teeth. 

“Alright, while you get back to work, I’ll be in the shower,” you went back to your computer and hummed in agreement with his plans.

You heard a ruffle of clothing hit the floor as you looked up from your laptop screen. You gasped in horror as you saw Chris had shucked his bottoms off right in front of you and turned to walk to the bathroom. You put your head down as he turned around to look at you with a satisfied smirk. 

_

The faint sound of the shower running filled the silence for a few minutes as you contemplated your next move. The swim shorts stayed where they were and you refused to pick them up. You still couldn’t get the image of your boss and his bare ass out of your head. 

What did this mean now for your job? 

“Assistant,” you froze at the sound of Chris’ voice, “I need you.”

“Now?”

“Yes, it’s urgent,” he sounded anxious.

“Yes, Mr. Evans,” you said from behind the cracked door.

“Can you get me a towel from the closet? I forgot mine.”

You went to grab him a towel and stuck your hand through the door. When you didn’t feel him take the towel from you you got worried.

“Mr. Evans,” you called out.

All of a sudden the door opened and you were face to face with a naked Chris Evans. You kept your wide eyes on his and pushed the towel to his chest.

“Assistant, I need some help getting dry,” you were stumbling over your words, but not for long until Chris pulled you in the bathroom with him and brought your hands up to his chest.

You kept your eyes on him and you dried off his upper body. Chris looked into your eyes with adoration and a hint of lust. This was getting too serious way too fast, you went to pull away, but he grabbed your wrists.

“You know, I meant what I said. You are very pretty,” you gasped. 

“Chris,” he pulled you closer until your lips touched. Fuck it. You couldn’t fight this anymore. This gorgeous man wanted you and a part of you wanted this pain in the ass too.

The kiss started slow, but descended into something so raw and animalistic. Your tongues were all over each other’s mouths and your teeth were scraping and hitting together. Chris pushed you up against the bathroom door and moved his lips to your neck.

“So good, wanted you for so fucking long,” he continued to kiss down your neck to the collar of your shirt.

“I want this off, now Y/N,” you gasped again. That was the first time he ever used your real name.

You couldn’t deny his orders, so you happily took off your shirt, bra included, and threw them on the floor. Chris went to praise you for being so good and attacked your sensitive buds. 

He scraped, licked, and sucked gently on each nipple, giving him all the attention they deserved. You moaned loudly and he went to kiss you again. He pressed himself into your thigh and started to grind.

“All for you, baby. It’s all for you,” you let out a breathy moan.

“Please, Chris, please, sir. I want it,” Chris growled in response.

His hands began to wander. They rubbed up and down your sides before they inched their way towards your center. Chris took his one hand and put it under your shorts. You whimpered as he went and rubbed your center in teasing strokes.

“Chris, please,” he removed his hand and opened the bathroom door.

“Patience, baby,” Chris picked up your shaking body and carried you throughout the house towards his bedroom.

He kicked opened the door and laid you down on the bed. Chris removed your shorts and stood back to admire your bare body. His thumbs drew small circles around your hips as he looked up at you with dark eyes.

Chris connected his lips with the top of your belly button and started to kiss downwards. He came in contact with your pussy, but wouldn’t kiss it. His lips ghosted yours, his beard was scratching the surrounding area. It seemed as if time had stopped when all of a sudden he attacked your core. 

Your hands flew down to his hair and began to pull at the roots. Chris groaned into your pussy as you arched your hips into his mouth. He brought his thumb to your clit and started to rub fast and hard circles. You were so close to cumming, but you could barely form the words.

You tried to tell him, but it felt so good and he was doing all the right things to restrict your speech. The tiny bubble within you had grown bigger and bigger and was going to pop any second. Chris started to thrust two fingers in you while his lips sucked your clit and that’s when it happened.

“Holy fuck,” you looked up with a heaving chest to see Chris’ beard, lips, and fingers soaked. His eyes grew darker as he grabbed your chin and kissed your breath away.

“Fucking squirted all over me baby, how you gonna clean me up?” He nuzzled his face into your neck and started to pepper kisses all over.

You were at a loss for words, but your body was doing all the talking. Your hips started to thrust up into Chris’ thigh and he looked down with a smirk.

“I know you want it, honey. Give me one second,” Chris moved off your body and made his way to his nightstand drawer. He pulled out a condom and rolled it on.

Now, he was back on top of you and drinking you in. You kissed one more time before he lifted your leg over his shoulder and positioned himself at your sensitive entrance.

“You sure?” You shook your head rapidly at his question.

“Yes, get on with it, sir,” he smirked as he entered you.

The stretch hurt, but the pain was replaced with pleasure as he started to thrust. He started off slow, careful not to hurt you, but he was going deeper into your pussy. You cried and slapped his bicep, urging him to go faster.

“If that’s what baby wants, then that’s what baby will get,” and Chris went into overdrive.

You screamed his name and moaned so loud that you were sure the neighbors would hear you. Chris loved hearing those sweet noises and was doing all he could to make them louder. You were reaching a second high, but Chris was still keeping a brutal pace.

“Chris, I’m about to cum.”

“Hold on, sweetheart. We aren’t finished this just yet,” he grabbed your other leg and threw it over his shoulder, attempting a deeper angle.

Chris kissed you with all his might. His tongue evaded your mouth once more and his thrusts were getting faster and faster. A sweat broke out on him and he was getting close. 

“Baby, you can let go whenever you want,” a final scream ripped through you as you arched your back and came for the second time.

Chris fucked you even harder through your orgasm. He wanted to fuck your pussy so that it was be sensitive for the next couple days. He wanted you to never forget this moment.

Tears formed in your eyes as he kept going. You were trying to keep up, but your body started to get weak. Chris noticed this and worked faster to get himself to the edge.

When he finally came, it felt as if his eyes had rolled back up into his head. He was sweaty and growing tired, but he didn’t want to leave your pussy yet. He knew he had to because the position you were in was starting to get uncomfortable. Chris finally removed himself and threw the condom out.

He saw your eyes were dropping and quickly picked you up to take you to the bathroom. He let you do your business and went to grab you a bottle of water. 

When you came out of the bathroom, with shaky legs, Chris was there with a water bottle  by the bedside table and the sheets drawn back waiting for you to get in beside him. You gladly accepted the comfy spot next to him and soon you drifted off to sleep.

__

When you finally woke up, you felt something heavy weighing down across your abdomen. Your eyes shot up as you looked around a room you didn't recognize. As if right on que, Chris groans beside you and opens his eyes. He smiled and pressed you closer to his body and gave you a sweet kiss to your temple.

“Evening,” Chris buried himself in your hair as you lifted your head to look out the window, confirming it was night.

“What time is it?” your voice was strained.

“Close to 11. Didn’t think we’d be out for this long,” he winked and for a moment you forgot why you were in his bed.

“OH MY GOD,” you gasped and shot up and Chris followed suit.

“WHAT? WHAT’S WRONG?”

“WE HAD SEX!”

“I KNOW I WAS THERE. WHY ARE YOU YELLING?” Chris matched your voice.

“I’M YELLING BECAUSE YOU’RE MY BOSS. I SLEPT WITH MY FUCKING BOSS,” you slammed your head back down on the pillow and buried your face in it. You only lifted your head off the pillow to hear him laughing at you.

“I get why you’re laughing, but I’m not. I’m a slut,” Chris laid back down next to you and pulled you into his arms.

“Hey, hey, you are not a slut. Please don’t think of yourself that way,” he cradled you into his arms.

“I did the one thing that nobody is supposed to do. I shouldn’t have ruined our professional relationship,” you tried to break free from Chris’ hold, but you wouldn’t let you go. 

“Listen to me, you did not do anything wrong. I wanted to ask you out for a long time… I just, well, you see-”

“You got piss ass drunk and ruined your plans,” you giggled into his bare chest. 

“That’s one way of putting it, yeah,” and he laughed along with you.

“So, I guess this means I should resign now shouldn’t I?”

“Not necessarily no, I still need my assistant.”

“So I get to sleep with you AND be on payroll? Wow, what a dream come true,” Chris laughed some more.

“We don’t have to tell anybody for a while. I’ll help you find a new job so it won’t look so fishy whenever we tell people we are dating.”

“I don’t know, I am gonna miss that fat Christmas bonus I get every year…” 

“I think I can think of a way to make up for that,” Chris’ hand was stroking up and down your thigh which made you shudder.

You turned to kiss him as you hummed in agreement. Things started to get hot and heavy once more and soon the sheets were pushed off the bed, Chris was attacking your lower half with kisses. Right when he got to your center, his phone rang.

“You wanna get that for me, Assistant?” 

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

The Sight of You (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Summary: Spencer’s disturbing dreams about his childhood bring him back to Las Vegas to face two of his childhood’s greatest enemies: his estranged father and his ex best friend.

AN: it’s a friends to enemies to lovers fic! Set in the episode “Memoriam” 4x07

Content Warnings: usual Criminal Minds stuff, mentions of child death, childhood trauma, descriptions of a dead body. Let me know if I missed anything!

Despite seeing Spencer around Pre-k, Y/N did not trot over to talk to him with their brightly coloured rucksack swinging vigorously and violently behind them. They walked faster instead once their parents had dropped them off. Spencer did his best to catch up to Y/N but lost them around the corner in the sea of students seeking their next class. He was meant to be one of them. Adjusting his glasses as they slipped down his nose, Spencer noted that he needed a new prescription before entering his own class and preparing to focus on a subject he was already well-versed in.

It was lunch time when Spencer finally found Y/N. They were sitting at the furthest end of the table in the canteen. But Y/N cowered away from him, his shoulders drawn up defensively.

“Are you OK, Y/N?” Spencer asked before getting to what was more significant to him: “Do you know when you will be free to play again?”

The next sentence out of Y/N’s mouth stung like a nettle. They stood up, their face contorted in their fit, and they pushed Spencer hard on the shoulders.

“Go away! I can’t look at you! You make me feel sick, you and your family!” They cried.

They went silent when Spencer was laughed at by those who heard what was said. Just grabbed their lunch and moved away, leaving Spencer spellbound in the middle of the canteen, heartbroken and with a new opening for a potential chess partner. Maybe that man they saw last week at the park would be kind enough to join him again.

But there was no replacement for Y/N, who now never said a word when they caught a glimpse of Spencer being bullied – only dithering about on the spot before fleeing the scene moments before a teacher would show up.

Spencer was hurt; that hurt warped into hatred when he was next out with his mother and father. They were at the shopping mall and had just bought Spencer his new glasses. Going down the escalator, he saw Y/N. They were smiling and skipping between their parents, a new pair of shoes shiny on their feet.

The second they spotted the Reids, Y/N ducked behind their parents. Spencer could still see their face: brow furrowed, eyes squinting, hands shaking now that nothing was holding them. Their parents didn’t seem to notice. They kept talking and walking even as Y/N stopped in time with the Reids stepping off the escalator.

Sudden footsteps running away was what dragged the public’s attention to a suddenly absent child.

“Y/N!” The parents called out as they chased after the four-year-old. They were quick past the Reids, not stopping to say ‘hello’.

Spencer kept his eyes trained after Y/N’s fleeing form, right until his mother’s face came into view. Diana looked saddened; she too was staring after the L/Ns. Turned to his father. William was composed but his eyes were turned down and watering.

For making his parents react like that to their mere presence, Spencer despised Y/N.

---> ---> ---> ---> ---> 

 The burning hatred from adolescence staled once Spencer reached adulthood. The protective nature that spawned from it for his mother remained.

Which is why, when Diana Reid casually mentioned Y/N when asked about Riley Jenkins, Spencer froze up.

“You remember Y/N?” He said stiffly.

Diana didn’t notice her son’s change in tone, “Of course, you two were opposites but you got on so well. So sad what happened to them.”

The first guess was that she was referring Y/N’s repeated attempts at running away before Reid cut contact with neighbourhood gossip at age fourteen. He didn’t bother with a second attempt to understand what his mother meant.

“I don’t care about Y/N. I want to know if you remember Riley.”

“And I told you: Riley was a boy you made up.”

“No, Mom, he was a real boy who lived in our neighbourhood, and somebody killed him. And, I don't know, I think-- I think that dad might have had something to do with it.”

“He was real?”

“Yes. And...”

“He was on that little league team, too.”

 ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

The whole case was surreal - “case” being a very loose term.

When they got into his office, Spencer thought that perhaps things might simmer down a little. Unfortunately, as soon as his father spoke about their history of similarity in appearance, Spencer’s usual comfort of statistics and facts on the elderly and pets failed to conceal his abandonment issues.

William Reid was clearly affected by Spencer’s accusations, calling the idea of fitting the profile thus being Riley’s killer “absurd”. Furthermore, he was confrontational when asked for access to his files and demanded a warrant. Coupled with Lou Jenkins’ absolute certainty that William was not involved in Riley’s murder and Penelope asking him “you sure about this?” concerning invading the aforementioned files, Spencer was very close to snapping.

“I really wish people would stop asking me that.”

Then there was the envelope posted beneath his motel room door. Suspicious timing aside, there was a brand-new suspect basically handed over on a silver platter. One Gary Michaels whom Spencer couldn’t remember him but he couldn’t be sure that he didn’t know him. Uncertainty being the feeling he hated the most.

This man could fit the profile; his previous of exposing himself to a minor was a precursor to molestation. But that wasn’t what Spencer wanted to hear from the shady file slipped to direct his attention away from William.

Garcia reported back about his father’s drives, “No kiddie porn, no membership to illicit websites, no dubious emails, no chat room history.”

“What about his finances?”

Hotch joined the conversation, “We went back ten years. No questionable transactions that we can find.”

Spencer sighed while Emily decided to crack a joke: “Well, he did buy a ticket to see Celine Dion six months ago, but I think we can overlook that.”

“He’s smart. Is it possible he kept things under the table?” Spencer persisted.

“Well, of course,” Hotch answered, “But from what we can tell, Reid, he doesn’t fit the profile.”

“We can tell you other things about him, if you want to know.”

A peace offering on behalf of Emily. Clearly she had improved after her night out and subsequent hangover. Spencer gave the go-ahead and Emily listed her profile:

“He's a workaholic, he actually logs more hours than we do. He makes decent money, but he doesn't spend a lot of it. He has a modest house. He drives a hybrid. He doesn't travel much. He stays away from the casinos. Um, and according to his veterinary bills, he has a very sick cat.”

“He appears to spend most of his free time alone,” Hotch added, “He goes to the movies a lot, and he reads. And from his collection of first editions, it seems his favourite author is-”

Spencer interrupted his boss, “Isaac Asimov, I remember that one.” He pressed his lips together. They were right; William Reid did not fit the profile.

Garcia piped up once more, “He does have one other major interest. On his home computer, he's archived, like, a ka-jillion things on one common subject.”

“What?”

“You, kiddo. He's got, like, everything that's been published online. Every article you've been quoted in, pieces you've written for behavioural science journals, He even has a copy of your dissertation.”

“He's keeping tabs on you,” Rossi said, That's saying something.”

But Spencer smoothly dismissed this attempt to make excuses for his father, “Yeah, he googled me. That makes up for everything. I'm going to get some air.”

 ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

After getting said air, Spencer went to the local bar and began playing an computerised poker game. His paying attention was only to distract himself, clear his head with something he knew he could control. And thankfully, a chance interaction with a lady at the bar spawned the inspiration for a sporadic hypnosis session.

Doctor Jan Mohikian allowed them a session. Reminded of the limitations that a four-year old’s memory could provide, not including the bias he already had as a son and a profiler, Spencer lay on the couch. His feet hung over the end so that his head could be comfortable in a pillow. There was no time for self-consciousness with Rossi in the room observing. He closed his eyes and felt his hand be placed upon Doctor Mohikian’s body.

She spoke low and calmingly, “I want you to hold my wrist in your left hand. And if you should feel any fear, I want you to squeeze, do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Go back to the night you were just telling me about. You're at home, in your room. You can't sleep because your parents are arguing.”

 ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 His eyes were closed still, but the couch shifted into a bed. His bed. A floor below, the faint shouting between his mother and father was heard. There was someone else there too. A child wailing, and it wasn’t him.

Suddenly his father was at his side, touching his arm, saying, “I know you’re awake. Daddy loves you; you know that?”

Spencer didn’t want to be there, and then it was the following morning.

Putting his glasses, the room fell into focus. His mother was there, she didn’t see him because she was too busy looking out the window. Her body language told him that this was not a meltdown, but what she saw was distressing. She’d been crying. As she walked away into the house, she hid her face as if she knew Spencer was watching and she wanted to hide her reaction from him.

Spencer ran to the window the second Diana had left the room.

His father was in the back garden and burning clothes. A bloody shirt, a tiny cardigan, landed on top of the pile already set alight.

“5, 4, 3, 2, 1, and wake.”

 ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 And Spencer was shocked out of the scene, back to the doctor’s couch and gripping her wrist with an iron grip. Rossi was by his side, bringing him back to peace with his voice.

 ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 Derek was clearly disturbed that Spencer was very set on his father being a paedophilic murderer as much as he had been that Spencer was taking something that was said after his mother’s fit seriously. He continued however to assist with Rossi in Spencer’s investigation.

As if everything else hadn’t been hard enough, the captain took some time to agree to holding William Reid in custody. Finally, he settled for twenty-four hours. William was as resistant to the questions as he had been upon the initial reunion. All he could say was that he didn’t hurt Riley. Spencer wore him down, getting him to drop the Gary Michaels bomb plus the threat that he “didn’t want to go down that road”.

Garcia’s search of Gary Michaels’ DNA on the databases brought to light that their suspect was dead. Buried across state lines, beat over the head with a pipe or bat, and the body was discovered in 2001.

“Maybe it wasn’t Riley’s blood on the clothes he was burning.” Derek was about to hang up when Garcia began to speak again, a new discovery ready for her team.

“Also, Todd found something in your father’s finances. There was a standing order for a therapist, specifically a child therapist from 1985 to 1995. I thought it was for Spencer, but William left when you were twelve, and these sessions continue irregularly after he left you!”

“Who was the patient?”

“One Y/N L/N. Local to North Vegas, born 1980 to Shelly and Finley L/N.”

Both Rossi and Derek looked away from the phone to Spencer and he knew. He knew he’d have to face another villain from the past – like a knight in one of Y/N’s stories.

“Still alive?”

“Yep, already pulling up an address. There’s a lot of short leases attached to this name. Lucky for you, they keep going back to live with their parents.”

Spencer wasn’t entirely sure that he could handle two bitter reunions in one day.

“We’ll send off the fingerprint while we visit Y/N. They could have been a potential victim of Michaels before he died. They might know something.”

 ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

It was a normal home in a normal neighbourhood. Spencer had never visited Y/N’s house. Their play-dates were always at the park.

“Hello, Mr L/N,” held up their badges, “I’m Agent Derek Morgan, this is Agent David Rossi and Doctor Spencer Reid. May we come in and ask you some questions?”

“Sure. My wife is uh out at work at the moment,” Finley opened the door wider and stepped aside for the trio to enter, “I’m the house husband as it were.”

Looking about the kitchen, Spencer spied several photos of an adult Y/N but very few of them as a toddler and even less as a teenager.

“You have a child, Mr L/N?” Rossi asked.

“All grown up now, Y/N,” Finley smiled with a nod. Then he squinted at Spencer, “You’re not related to William Reid by chance, are you?”

Masking his bitterness, Spencer said shortly, “He’s my father.”

Finley seemed in awe at the prospect, so Derek redirected the conversation back to the matter at hand, “What was Y/N like as a child?”

Nodding still, like a bobble head, Finley looked weary at the notion, “Troubled. They were very young when they withdrew into themselves. Used to run away from home a lot. I don’t know what happened, but Y/N never told us.” He then jumped to protect his child’s reputation at present, “They’re doing better now, went to therapy and they’re doing very well for themselves.”

“I’m glad to hear.” Rossi replied.

Finley continued his defence of Y/N, “They’re a published author, they write fantasy things for kids and young adults. We’re very proud of them.”

“Did Y/N know Riley Jenkins when they were a child?”

“Riley Jenkins, that’s Lou’s kid who died, right?” Finley sought confirmation and, when he had it, he spoke, “Not personally. I think they might have played at the park once or twice. Before he died, Y/N would play with anyone. But you… you know that.” And Finley gestured to Spencer, much to his disgust.

“Is Y/N in the area?” Spencer asked briskly.

“Well, they’re due for a visit in a few hours. They went on holiday.”

“They still live with you?”

“A month ago, they got a new flat in the city. But they’ve got their own room here, for whenever they need it.”

“May we see it?”

The wallpaper was barely visible beneath exam revision notes, posters of Fresh sheets on the bed and the clear space on the floor were the only tidy things about the place. It was a haven of organised clutter.

A chess set caught Spencer’s eye. It sat upon the windowsill, recently dusted. The pieces were not that of a classic set; each was painted prettily but with enough error to indicate it was a personal touch.

“You and Y/N were close then?” Derek was holding up a photo album. Upon inspection, the photograph the page was open on was of Spencer and Y/N dressed up for Halloween as Doctor Frankenstein and the Monster respectively – accurate to the book of course.

“Yeah, ‘were’,” Spencer turned back to the chess set. He didn’t bother to ask when his friends had figured out he knew Y/N.

Rossi decided to further test the waters, “You think that Y/N could have killed Riley?”

“Of course not. A four-year-old couldn’t kidnap, tie up, rape, and kill a boy their own age. No violent history that indicates they would ever do something like this. Do I think that Y/N knows something about what happened and my father is trying to keep them quiet? Yes.”

Rossi moved beside Spencer, picking up the knight. Except it wasn’t a knight. It was a wizard of some kind in purple robes.

“We’ll stay up here for a bit then go down once Y/N’s inside and settled,” He gestured with the knight to the window. Spencer blanched as he spied a cab at the end of the driveway. The trunk was open and someone was retrieving a suitcase from within.

Y/N appeared around the corner, waving off the cab and turning to the house. Mr L/N appeared on the drive and they met in the middle for a hug. Over Mr L/N’s shoulder, Spencer could see that Y/N had grown into their chubby childhood features. They looked genuinely happy.

He would have to go through with it, but he didn’t have to like it. And he couldn’t go hide in the bathroom like with his father.

The trio plodded down the stairs when the sound of the front door closing was replaced with a joyous gathering in the kitchen. It all changed when Y/N went to take off their jacket and caught sight of the three FBI agents standing in the doorway. Taking out his badge, Rossi led the way.

“Hello, Y/N, I’m Agent David Rossi, this is Agent Derek Morgan, and Doctor Spencer Reid. We’re looking into the death of Riley Jenkins, and we were hoping to ask you some questions.”

To the naked eye, very little changed about Y/N’s appearance. To the three profilers, there was a visceral reaction: Y/N’s right hand started trembling, the hard swallow, the dropping of their gaze from Spencer to the floor.

“OK,” They said, a great deal quieter than they had been with their father.

Rossi sat next to Y/N at the dinner table. Derek was beside Rossi; Spencer stayed standing. Mr L/N stayed in the kitchen, at Y/N’s request.

“Can you tell us what you remember about Riley?” Rossi began.

“Not very much, I don’t really remember much about school.”

“Oh, you don’t?” Spencer blurted, “Well, I do.”

Derek glanced back at him with a look that just screamed “shut the hell up”. It seemed to cut down Y/N’s resolve, their jaw quivering.

“Sorry, can you give me a moment?” They stood up quick, the chair legs scraping loudly against the floor as they walked just as fast to the kitchen. Through the open door, Rossi, Derek, and Spencer watched Y/N grab a glass from the open dishwasher. The water from the tap hit the bottom of the glass harsh, crashing out like a wave of the ocean hitting a cliff. Y/N didn’t seem to care. Their hand dripped water onto the surface as they chugged back some of the drink before returning to the table with a topped-up glass.

“Are you alright?” Rossi inquired, leaning closer to Y/N.

They answered wearily, “Fine, just feeling woozy.”

“You’re a writer?”

“Yeah, you’re a writer too. My mom reads your stuff before bed.”

“Bit of an odd nightcap,” Rossi said with a little chuckle.

Y/N shared that smile for the briefest of moments, replying “You’re telling me.”

From their pocket, they pulled out some painkillers, popping them back with a slug of water then speaking again. “I remember Riley was smaller than me. Still figuring out coordination, but he liked to play chase. I know he was killed; I didn’t find out how until I looked into it last year.”

“Why did you look into it?” Rossi gently probed.

Y/N rubbed two fingers back and forth across their head as they spoke, “I was back here, I felt sick so I went for a walk in the park, and I just remembered him tripping over while trying to tag me. No one ever told me what happened, just that he had to go away. I wanted to know what happened to him.”

“Are you sick often?” Derek asked suddenly, his voice soft to match Rossi. Spencer grimaced at the treatment Y/N was receiving but said nothing.

“Headaches and stomach aches mostly.”

“You get them whenever you come home?”

“I do. Figured I was allergic to something but never figured out what.”

That would have to be a very quick response, like a dog allergy. And coincidental, seeing as the symptoms didn’t start until they saw Spencer.

“Y/N?” called their father, “Can you come here a moment please?”

“May I?”

“Of course,” said Derek and Y/N was out of the room. Derek pivoted in his chair to include Spencer in his theory, “I think they know something, but they don’t know they know it. I think they repressed this memory like you did, Spencer. We should take him to the therapist, see if we can jog his memory.”

“You can’t be serious,” Spencer covered his face with his hands, dragging them down with irritation.

Derek was persistent though, “Spencer, like it or not, Y/N’s linked to this investigation. Put aside your differences for a moment, please.”

Spencer all but squawked, “Put aside my differences?”

“You have brought a lot of bias to this case. Let us at least pursue this lead.”

“Sorry,” Y/N interrupted Spencer’s retort, sitting back at the table, “He needed someone to get unhook the loft door. Mom usually does it.”

“That’s alright.” Rossi waved a hand dismissively. Once Y/N accepted that, he moved in with Derek’s suggestion, “You know, some people have strong physical reactions to memories, trauma. Maybe you’re not getting sick. You’re rejecting something.”

“Rejecting?” repeated Y/N. There was no doubt in their voice, more cautious curiosity.

Derek nodded, “A memory, repressing it, and your body has linked the physical responses to your home. We think it has something to do with this case, and we’d like to see if we can retrieve any memories you might have. Would you be alright to come with us?”

“Yeah,” said Y/N, though they didn’t sound too certain, “Yeah sure.”

The resigned, too tired look on their face, and Spencer felt a tug in his chest. A longing to see Y/N smile like they had when they first entered the house. He’d rather hate someone who was happy than someone who suffered the same as him.

Leaving the house, Spencer took a deep breath of fresh air.

“Spencer?”

He ignored Y/N’s voice for a moment, but he couldn’t disregard Y/N standing in front of him and speaking again, “Spencer, can we talk please?”

“I’m busy,” He said, already walking off as he pretended to call someone, “Hey Garcia.”

 ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 “Hold onto my hand, use it as an anchor, and squeeze when you feel fear.” Doctor Mohikian accepted Y/N’s hand on her wrist and their silence nod as they lay back on the same couch Spencer had been just hours before.

“I want you to think back to your childhood, back to when you were five. You’re at the park, your parents are on a bench watching nearby to keep you safe. What do you see?”

“Spencer Reid.”

Derek and Rossi glanced at Spencer, who did not react. They kept quiet so that Y/N could immerse themselves in the hypnosis.

“What’s he doing?” Doctor Mohikian continued.

“Teaching me chess.”

 ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Sat on opposite sides of the table, Spencer and Y/N’s eyes were glued to the chess pieces that were neatly organised between them. Spencer was thinking strategy. He could not say the same for his companion Y/N. They reached a hand out and hovered over the pieces before finally selecting their last knight.

Their tongue clicked as Y/N trotted the piece on the spot.

“What’s this one again?”

“The knight,” Spencer recited, “It moves two spaces up, down, left or right, and another step perpendicular to the first direction.”

“Brave creatures riding into battle,” Y/N narrated before continuing their clip-clopping to its new position, “Pawns in the game of war.”

Spencer didn’t understand how they were coming up with this whilst playing. Well, actually, he did. Because Y/N was clearly not playing to win. They were playing for the best possible story.

“Where do you think this story will end?” Y/N asked.

“I don’t know.”

“You’re lying,” said Y/N, pushing back the sleeves of their white cardigan, “Come on, you can tell me, with your magic powers.”

“It’s not magic. It’s logic.”

“That’s magic to me,”

Narrowing his eyes, Spencer decided that he should give his friend the information they sought: “I see checkmate in fifteen moves.”

“See? Magic! The gift of sight!” crowed Y/N, clapping their hands together. The cardigan sleeves fell back in place as they did so. Spencer felt his cheeks heat up; he dropped his head so he could smile in privacy while Y/N began to decide their next move.

“How’s your mommy today?”

Shrugging, Spencer said, “Better than normal. But that means a bad day is around the corner.”

Y/N nodded solemnly. “Do you want another ice cream? I got more birthday money.”

“No thank you.” Spencer moved the piece but was immediately intercepted by Y/N, “You’re getting better.”

“Fank you.”

“You’ll have to wait longer to beat me though.” And he snatched Y/N’s knight away, just as planned and much to Y/N’s dismay.

A new voice from their left spoke, “Hey you’re pretty good.”

 ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 Y/N’s grip tightened on Doctor Mohikian’s wrist, “Someone’s with us.”

“Who do you see?” Doctor Mohikian asked patiently.

“A man. He’s asking us if he can watch us play, listen to the story.”

“Do you want him to stay?”

“No,” Y/N flinched, “But Spencer keeps talking to him. The man won’t go away.”

“It’s OK, it’s OK, you’re safe, Y/N.”

Y/N flinched again, this time letting out a whimper, “He’s on the floor.”

“Spencer is?”

“No, the man.”

“What’s he doing on the floor?”

“He’s,” Y/N began panting, their face tensing and body jerking, “I can’t get to him. There’s glass in the way and the ground is shaking.”

“Y/N.”

“I can’t look, I’ll be sick! Whenever I see them, sick.”

“OK, you’re going to wake up in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1!”

Their eyes snapped open with the click of the fingers and Y/N leapt out of Doctor Mohikian’s couch. Their head aimed over the bin by the door and they retched. Nothing came up but their stomach continued to squeeze up

Spencer fidgeted in his seat, trying his best not to look at Y/N. The choice words of the session, three in particular, wrapped around his head.

“Floor”.

Y/N had seen Gary Michaels inside, somewhere that wasn’t the park.

“Glass”.

A window, Y/N was watching what Gary Michaels was doing.

“Sick”.

“Go away! I can’t look at you! You make me feel sick, you and your family!”

“Them”.

It wasn’t just Michaels in the room alone. They had been a witness to his murder.

Derek’s movement to help Y/N took Spencer out of his analysis. Sweaty, Y/N was led back to the couch, the bin between their legs, head lolling forward. Spencer tried to move beside them for questioning, but Y/N winced and began heaving again. He felt that ache in his chest again. He was causing this and nothing he could do would change that. Not until they both knew what happened to Riley and Y/N got help through it.

“What did you see, Y/N?” Derek asked as he replaced Spencer’s spot beside them.

With watering eyes, Y/N looked at Spencer, “The man we played with, he was on the floor. His head – thank you.” They accepted the water from Doctor Mohikian, gulping some back, “It was smashed in.”

The three agents left the room, Doctor Mohikian following after Y/N left to get some air.

“It’s logical to assume that Y/N tied that sickness, that repulsion because of what they thought they saw your mother be involved with, to you and your family,” Doctor Mohikian evaluated.

Interrupting again, Spencer stammered his way through his analysis, “That’s why they avoided me. They associated me with being ill. It’s probably also why they ran away so much; they had to get away from this horrible feeling they had associated with their home.”

Doctor Mohikian shook her head, “We won’t be able to use this in court, I told you when we started.”

Derek’s phone started to ring. As he answered, Spencer somehow managed to slip away for long enough to find Y/N. They were leaning against the ramp’s railing in front of the practice, their body lifting and slumping with each deep breath they took. Against his better judgement, he moved toward them.

“Y/N? Can I have your number?”

The breathing slowed again.

“I need it to call you with an update on the situation as soon as we get one.”

Without looking up, Y/N pulled out their phone and handed it over to Spencer. He punched his number in a new contact, using this time to gather the courage to maybe say something else. The hurt and pain went beyond him now. Y/N was suffering and had been much longer than he had.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Spencer said quietly, hoping that his didn’t add to the illness, “I hope you feel better soon.”

Their head still down, Y/N croaked, “You too, Spencer.”

“Spencer, get over here! We got a match on a print on Michaels’ body!”

 ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

“What makes you think Gary Michaels killed your boy?”

“He admitted it,” Lou Jenkins said, as monotonous as he had been for the last fifteen minutes of the interrogation.

Derek’s quickfire was on Jenkins instantly, “You beat a guy with a baseball bat, he's going to admit to a lot of things. How do you know he was the right guy?”

“I know. He approached another kid in the neighbourhood.”

“And how do you know that?

“I was told by a concerned party.”

“Who? Another parent?”

Jenkins leant back in his chair, “That's all I'm going to say on the subject.”

“Who was it?” Spencer suddenly spoke up.

Caught off guard at his interjection, Jenkins awkwardly parroted himself, “I told you that's all I'm going to say on the sub—"

Reid slammed his hands on the table, getting right up in Lou’s face, “Who was it?”

The door opened, Detective Hyde appeared, “Agent Reid?”

“Do not interfere with this interrogation, detective,” shouted Spencer, “This is not your case anymore!”

Once again, he was cut off. This time, by the arrival of his own mother, Diana, and her admission of guilt: “Spencer, it was me”.

  ---> ---> ---> ---> ---> 

  Of all the things this case had brought him, Spencer least expected to be sitting in a room with his mother and father together for the first time in years. To have Diana explain to him how she was involved in a child’s murder was also up there with the unthinkable.

But he stayed quiet and listened to her confession.

The reveal that she had seen Gary Michaels playing chess with him and Y/N, that she and got a feeling that something was wrong before anything had even happened, opened the story. Lou Jenkins’ involvement was next on the menu. Two days after the chess game, he drove Diana to Michaels’ house, disclosed his history of child abuse, and demanded she leave while he went into the house.

Upon reaching the point where she entered the house, Diana struggled with her words. William reached over and took her hand.

She described seeing Lou with the bat, standing over the body, slipping in the pool of blood, finding Y/N standing in the window and their face, their little face as innocent as the white cardigan that covered their shoulders and absorbed the blood from Diana’s hands as she shook their shoulders.

“And the rest... It's all dark after that.”

William continued for her. Diana came home and brought Y/N with her. Eventually he came to understand what had happened and decided that nobody could ever know.

“You were burning her bloody clothes,” Spencer concluded.

His father nodded, “But the knowing, you can't burn that away. It changes everything.”

“You paid for Y/N to go to therapy.”

William didn’t seem surprised that Spencer knew this, going straight into explaining: “They went into a dissociative fugue state after seeing what Lou had done. When Diana brought them home, they were just stiff. I asked them for their home number, to call their parents, but they started screaming and throwing up. We had to take them to the police station.” He mopped his brow with a handkerchief, “They needed help, but their parents couldn’t afford it. And they didn’t know what had happened. I couldn’t drag another person into this, Spencer.”

“Is this why you left?”

“I tried to keep us together, Spencer. I swear to you, but the weight of that knowledge, it was too much.”

“You could have come back. Could have started over.”

“I didn't know how to take care of you anymore. When I lost that confidence, there was no going back. What's done is done.”

“At least now you know the truth,” Diana made an effort to smile at her son

Choking on his words and the overwhelming remorse he felt, Spencer refused to look at his parents any longer, “I was wrong about everything. I'm sorry.”

And William said something that Spencer had been waiting for, for a long time, “I am, too, Spencer.”

  ---> ---> ---> ---> ---> 

  All of this was repeated when Spencer walked with Y/N through their old park the following day. Filling the final gaps in the memory would hopefully bring some respite to them both. Or at least maybe something to start the recovery process, easing Y/N’s sickness and Spencer’s pain.

“I’m sorry for my behaviour during this case,” Spencer sniffed, “When you said we made you sick, back when we were four, I thought you had seen my mom during one of her episodes and thought she was a freak, like everyone else.”

That stopped Y/N in their tracks, their hands coming up to cover their mouth, their eyes misty, “Oh Spencer, I’m sorry too, I’m so, so sorry I caused you so much pain.”

Spencer’s hands rushed up as if to create belated damage control, “It’s ok! I hurt you too. I made you sick.”

“That wasn’t your fault though.”

“It wasn’t yours either. We were kids.”

Almost pedantic, stropping, like a child again, Y/N moaned, “It’s all been such a waste. We could have been friends all this time!”

“We can be friends now,” Spencer pushed his hands down into his pockets to stop them flailing about anymore. His sentence was phrased more like a question.

One that Y/N gladly answered, “I would like really that.”

Sitting in the reply for a moment, Spencer followed up on his concerns, “How are you feeling? I mean, are you feeling sick again?”

“A bit, but I can handle it.”

Spencer could not see any changes in their behaviour from the day before. So obviously they were lying about that. But he didn’t protest. The lie meant Y/N wanted to stay with him, which was good - Spencer wanted that too.

They kept walking, only in silence for half a minute before Spencer broke it again, “I read your books last night.”

“Yeah?”

“‘The Siege of the Lost Faiths’ in Rogue’s Mask, that was our first game of chess.”

“It had by far the best narrative,” Y/N dragged their shoe a little on the grass before coming to a stop, “Do you still play?”

“All the time.”

They nodded over to where the old chess tables still stood, “Fancy a game before you go?”

Spencer grinned, “Just promise that this is the only setting where we’ll be on conflicting sides from now on.”

“Promise.”

Brushing the debris from the table, they both took their places opposite each other. From Y/N’s bag was revealed a box, spilling their painted chess pieces across the board. Remembering how they had stood in Y/N’s room, Spencer helped to set up the match. They took their seats opposite one another. Y/N was the green side, Spencer the purple.

Spencer moved first. After a second’s deliberation, Y/n moved their pawn.

“Isn’t there a story with this one?” Spencer said, an implicated teasing in his tone despite his shyness.

With an equally bashful eye roll, Y/N started their new story, “First begins the battle with the royals on both sides sending intrepid messengers to meet and pass along their deeds.”

Spencer took Y/N’s pawn. As he lifted their piece away, he spoke quietly, “One not as intrepid as the other.”

A gasp dropped from Y/N’s smile. He had never joined in the narrative telling before, always too taken up in the match to invest in whatever story they spun. 

“He’s not a coward,” They said, still smiling, much to Spencer’s delight, “Prisoner’s dilemma, he just couldn’t trust the other with his life.”

“Did they know each other before this battle?”

“Yes,” Y/N moved a knight across, stealing Spencer’s pawn, “They were brothers who once shared a crib and now they share a grave.”

Throughout the game, Y/N continued the story with Spencer asking questions just to hear them talk more. The maturity of the stories had grown just as Y/N’s voice had. They knuckled their eyes a few times, but they didn’t complain about the headache.

“I know what endings you like,” Spencer moved his rook, “Checkmate in five.”

Y/N didn’t seem to mind that little dig, “This’ll have to be a short story instead then.”

Spencer’s next sentence got away from him, trailing off the closer he got to the end of it, “You could write an anthology series, if we see each other again and play more games.”

Where Spencer’s voice disappeared, Y/N’s returned with invigoration, “That’s not a half bad idea, Spencer.”

The checkmate never came. Y/N diverted the ending into a draw.

“A peace treaty has been forged by the survivors, because too many lives have been lost to justify this violence anymore. If only they realised sooner that no blood had to be shed for peace to rule the lands.” And they smiled at Spencer, clearly chuffed as they leaned back in their chair, “Bit of an upgrade from the horse noises, I’ll say.”

Spencer rotated the purple knight – the illusionist – between his thumb and forefinger, “I liked the horse noises.”

“You should have said during the match! I’d recreate them, for you.”

One by one, the pieces were placed back into their box until the last piece remained in Spencer’s palm: the knight or Soren the Illusionist, distractions and deceptions but he loved the tricks that delighted most of all. Just like Spencer with his magic tricks but a little to the left. The character was always one of Y/N’s favourites. Some solace away from the pain of thinking of who he was based on.

Y/N pushed Spencer’s hand away, closes his fist around it, “Keep him. He was made with you in mind anyway.”

The information sank in and Spencer’s nose wrinkled with the little smile on his face as he cupped the little Illusionist, “I’m Soren?”

Nodding, Y/N confirmed, “You’re Soren.”

“But what about your set though?”

“I can always make and paint another knight,” and Y/N tilted the piece upside down in Spencer’s hand, revealing the signature on the underside, “You and him are the originals, it’s only fair you stay together.”

In a moment of pure instinct and nostalgia, Spencer clicked his tongue as he twisted Soren in time with the noise. Y/N let out a burst of laughter that dragged the air out of Spencer’s chest.

“Hey, do you wanna get dinner tonight?” He said, running out of breath very quickly as a result.

It had a similar effect on Y/N, “I thought you – don’t you have to get back to Virginia?”

“I have time for dinner. For you.”

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 The bookstore was packed but the breath of the patrons was held as one. All eyes were watching the mini stage where a crouching figure lifted their head up slowly. A jump as the tension broke with the figure leaping up to their feet with a bang.

Y/N pushed up the brim of their cap. Snatching a deep green hoodie from the purple trunk – silver constellations painted on the sides – they swung it over their back before picking up the page where they had left off.

“Nasima looked up at Mason and said, ‘Well that was just unnecessary.’”

A burst of laughter shot through the pre-teens in the front row, spreading to the adolescents sitting further back who had grown up with the author’s other works, finally reaching the adults at the back where Spencer was fiddling with his cane. He adjusted the sleeve of his costume absentmindedly. He was just like everyone else in the room: captivated by how Y/N was so immersed in their reading.

They had just mimed kicking down a door, plus sound effects from their mouth. Swapping back and forth between the two conflicting characters arguing with one another, changing between the hoodie and the cap with every other line of dialogue and taking both off for the role of the narrator, it was certainly a workout.

An exaggerated breath was drawn into Y/N’s lungs, flopping over in a melodramatic state, which caused another laugh in the audience.

Spencer’s nose scrunched up as he grinned. He knew this was part of the scene; he’d seen Y/N rehearse this story in their sitting room. It was so much better to share this with an audience, for their reactions to fuel Y/N’s energy.

Y/N finished the short story A Battle of Bent Truths with a flourish, leaving the rest of the anthology for their audience to read in their own time. The kids were up on their feet first. Some of them were jumping up and down as they applauded with the rest of the shop. Y/N gave a big grin as they bowed, sweeping their cap off for extra drama.

There was a book signing and a photographer that followed, and Spencer waited patiently at the end of the queue, thankful that the store allowed him to bring a chair along with him. He was happy to entertain his godson and friends with a few tricks to pass the time.

“Another one please!” Henry jumped up and down when Spencer revealed his card.

A minor commotion arose by the photographer’s backdrop. There was a teenager was crying; she was clutching her copy of Untold Tales of Human Nature. Y/N was holding their shoulders, rubbing gently and speaking softly. Only half paying attention to his next trick, Spencer kept an eye on Y/N as they hugged the teenager, looking near tears themselves.

“Spencer?” J.J tapped him on the shoulder and Spencer realised that Henry was looking a little mad to have lost his godfather’s attention so easily.

“Sorry, Henry, can you pick another card please?”

When they reached the front of the queue, JJ went up first and took Henry and his pals up to see Y/N. They instantly recognised JJ and welcomed her with a tight hug. Henry was delighted to see his favourite babysitter and show them off to his school friends, boasting that they had read to him before today.

“They read me bits for bedtime, Mommy!”

“I know!” JJ tickled his cheek, “I read them to you too.”

“Who do you like better?”

“Mommy,”

Y/N gasped, dropping to their knees which made Spencer wince, “Henry, you wound me!”

Rossi approach next, knowing that once Spencer got to Y/N, they would not be left alone.

“You really know how to captivate an audience,” He kissed them on both cheeks, “Though don’t take offence if I don’t use the same tricks at my readings.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it! Thank you for coming.”

Y/N then caught Spencer’s eye and began meandering over to him with a smile they were desperately trying to stifle. Spencer rose from his chair, meeting Y/N in the middle.

“Hi, Spencer.”

With his free arm, Spencer flaunted his cloak, “Who is Spencer? I’m Soren the Illusionist!”

Giggles from his godson, his godson’s gang, his co-workers and friends, they almost caused Y/N to lose their composure. They held on just long enough to continue the banter.

“Oh, forgive me, you look so much like my boyfriend.”

“Hmmm, he must be very handsome,”

And Y/N burst into peals of laughter, waving their hands about, “OK, stop, stop, stop, I can’t.”

“Hey!” Spencer pretended to take offence, pouting as Y/N brought him into a hug.

“Don’t worry,” They kissed his cheek between giggles, “You are so very handsome.”

“To think you were once sick at the sight of me.”

[sansmania]

its o VER WHY WAS THIS SO LONG? 

part 1 | part 2 | art that goes with the fic

Title: Your Man

Ship: Boss [ @bonelyheartsclub ]/ GN Reader

Descrip: take it im drifting out to sea because HES GONNA BE A COWBOY thE END

Willie had taken his time to take in the damage done to the beloved boots, tutting and frowning at the holes and shredded leather.

"Oh yeah, I can fix 'em for ya, but it'll take a few days, Mr. Boss. That lil' dog did a number to these." Boss exhaled through his nasal bone with a silent nod. It seems 'Toby' had also managed to dislodge some of the pins that held the heels in, which would mean the boots needed to be completely stripped and rebuilt from the sole up.

"That is fine, I suppose. They mean a great deal to me, so take the time you need to get them back to perfect condition." He seemed a bit emotional about leaving the boots behind, and you gently assured the skeleton that they were in skilled hands. Leaving his contact information, the two of you turned to leave. 

Until a bony hand grabbed your neckline again.

"You said this store specializes in leather and boots, correct?"

"Yes?" You held the word out longer than necessary, red pinpricks looking down at you, then to the fluorescent shoes between you.

"I would like to peruse them, then. It would not hurt for me to have a few more sets, anyway. And I am beyond done with these sneakers. I feel like one of those fictional circus clowns."

You bit your tongue at his presumption, knowing Boss wouldn't listen to a word you had to say on the subject, and accepted your fate in the tobacco and wood lacker scented hell.

After a bit of searching, pausing only to laugh at some of the ridiculous 'southern fact' signs they had decorating a shelf, the pair of you found the boot section of the large store.

"Human, I highly doubt if Texas were real, that it would home ninety percent of the planet's spider population." You couldn't help the snort that came out at Boss' comment as he walked over to the wall of shoes.

His eyelights were transfixed on the detailed stiches in some of the leather boots. His phalanges traced over a pair that had some gaudy gems placed into them- a pair that had studs- red stained leather- black snake skin. He was strangely silent as he looked over each set with wonder.

You didn't think any of them were Boss' style, to be honest. They were about classic as classic cowboy boots get- you could have sworn you even spotted a pair made of alligator skin.

"These." He finally spoke, pulling down one of the only sets that seemed to be ankle high. They were a deep maroon, black stitching along the sides and folds, and a very obvious steel toe embedded inside. There were a few gold embellishments and you felt they were gaudy as all hell.

But, that expression of wonder in Boss' eyes made him look like a child on gyftmas morning.

It was cute.

He was cute.

"I mean, sure, if you're into red, black and gold-" The skeleton flicked his eyes towards you, making your mouth snap shut. He took a seat on a nearby bench, listlessly kicking off the offending accessories to try the new boots on.

Boss became silent once again, taking in the shine of leather as he tilted his feet and legs to get a good look at them.

"There is a mirror over there." You mention, pointing a few feet away, and he stood up to admire the shape of the shoes. And while he did so, you also found yourself admiring him.

Boss was very tall- even without the help of his stiletto heels- and his broad shoulders squared in perfect posture made almost anything he wore look breathtaking. His choice of attire today fit snuggly against his ribcage, tapering down his spine- making Boss look, pun intended, skeleton thin. Tight, but soft, leather pants hugged his narrow hips and bony legs, perfectly shaping his body.

"Hmm. A bit lower than what I am used to, but they are quite fetching on me. What do you think, human?"

He caught you staring, once again, in the mirror- just as your eyes had been slowly trailing down his legs, brain becoming grey mush. You curse quietly, turning your head away with a mutter of agreement.

"Sadly, they do not match the rest of my attire. I should see if they have apparel here to compliment my figure and accessories." He made an amused sound when you cocked your head at the suggestion, cheeks burning with new fervor.

Oh. He knew exactly what he was doing now. Boss wouldn't even play with the idea if any of his family was around, but since it was just the two of you, he was going to continue his sadistic game.

When you had first met Boss, you would have sworn he didn't have a playful bone in his body- the serious tone and way he carried himself made it seem he was all work and no play. But, as you got to know him, his true colors seemed to blossom forth. Yes, he hated puns, that didn't mean he had no sense of humor. His humor was dry and a little cynical- and you had nearly soiled yourself in laughter when he cracked his first joke around you.

He also found Blue and Nox's rivalry amusing, egging them on at times just to get under their skin.

And when then two of you were alone, he was much more relaxed, allowing more of his jovial side to come out. Sometimes it was a welcome blessing and sometimes it was not.

As it was at your expense today, it was one of those times that his sense of humor didn't delight.

"Uh, s-sure. Why not? Let's find you a nice pair of chaps-" Boss' amused smile caught you off guard as he held a hand up to stop you from moving. You had hoped he would allow you to help, maybe in a way save yourself from this horrible fate.

"No, I believe I can handle dressing myself just fine. Though, I will listen to your opinion after I have chosen an outfit." The smirk didn't go away as you made a noise of disdain. The skeleton sauntered off on his own, leaving you to scream internally at being caught red handed and was going to make you suffer for it.

When he turned a corner, you were on your feet- tossing the old converse in your inventory- and did your best to sneak around the store behind the him. Occasionally, Boss would turn his head out of suspicion, causing you to duck behind a shelf, while he thumbed through the racks of clothes.

He was enjoying teasing you like this, smirk still apparent on his face. You were by no means subtle, so Boss knew you were tailing him around, and that only added to his amusement.

You peeked over a row of jackets that were fastened with tassels while Boss sifted through some button up shirts. His foot tapped along to the music with perfect rhythm, though, you were more shocked when his low voice was barely audible.

He was quietly singing along to the tune.

Boss Gothic Serif.

Was singing country.

And he knew you were watching and listening.

The next time he glanced over his shoulder, Boss caught your reddened face as a devious smile curled on his skull. He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Human, I have picked out a suitable ensemble. Feel free to wait there for me to change." You didn't hide this time when he spoke up, accepting defeat, stepping out to follow the monster towards the changing rooms.

You knew from the first day of meeting these skeletons that they would be the death of you. You just didn't expect it to be in a dime store cowboy shop in the city.

Flopping down on another bench, you waited for death to finish his wardrobe swap and drag you to the dark depths- knowing now that he was going to be dressed like a cowboy with Shania Twain playing gently to send you off.

The shuffle of cloth behind the barn themed doors caught your attention, the soft click of bones on wood as a lock was lifted and the doors swung open.

Words choked in your mouth as it hung ajar, Boss stepping out of the small room with the most smug look on his face you had ever seen him muster.

His head was tilted down ever so slightly, burning red eyes shaded by the black hat atop his skull. Your eyes dragged down to the crisp maroon and black button up, gold skull bola tie strung in the collar and rested on his nearly bare breastbone.

The shirt was rolled at the sleeves, showing off his battle scarred hands and arms, and the tail tucked neatly into a pair of tight black dyed jeans; adorned and held up by a red leather belt that had a large gold skull buckle to keep it all together. The jeans hugged the skeleton's frame all the way down to the coordinated boots.

Boss leaned against the doorframe, taking in your reaction with sadistic glee; How you couldn't form a single word in appreciation to his wardrobe selection. How your face was red enough to put his shirt to shame. How your eyes lingered over the single undone button at his clavicle.

How your reaction made his soul thrum with pride.

"Comments?" He finally spoke, beyond amused at the way you startled to his rough voice- dropping it an octave or two, successfully getting further reactions out of you. Finally, you managed to swallow the hard, dry lump that formed in your throat, tearing your gaze away to look back to Boss' expecting eyes.

You coughed and looked away

"Yee. Haw?" Was all you could manage as he stepped forward, boots loudly clacking against the hardwood floor. The terrifying skeleton you called a friend, and obviously waxed red towards, stopped mere feet before you, dragging your attention back to him.

"Is that all you have to say? I would appreciate some feedback, maybe I should make another selection if this doesn't suit me-"

"No, don't!" You found your voice as Boss turned heel to find something else to fluster you with. He quirked a brow ridge at your outburst, returning to his previous position, arms crossed as he awaited to hear your real feelings. 

"You. You look good, Boss." You did your best to hold your voice steady as his gaze made you shrink into the bench, like you were going to become a permanent fixture in the store.

"Just ‘good’?" Oh, he was going to make you suffer. Breathing hard through your nose, you looked back up at him. Boss already knew how you felt, so this was just torture to feed his ego.

And you may as well feed it.

"Fine." There was a pause as you found the words. “You look amazing. Handsome. Stunning.” You could feel your face and neck darkening with each admission- at this point, had you even been referring to just how he looked now? He seemed to preen at each compliment, all too pleased to drink in your words of praise.

"Then I do believe I will purchase these items. They may be in start contrast to the rest of my wardrobe, but some variety in life never hurts."

It was interesting to watch Boss fannagle with the cashier about buying all the clothes items while he was still in them- but he managed to do it, and in style, if you were honest.

With his boots squared away, clothes tucked into his inventory, and you at his side, Boss literally strutted out of the store- leading you both back to his car.

"Human, you make it so easy to fluster you, you do realize that." Boss' smile from before had not left his features, even as you pulled into the culdesac in which you lived.

"Yeah, I'm aware, Boss." You heaved a final embarrassed sigh as the car came to a stop at your curb. Gathering your belongings, and what little bit of pride you had left, the car door swung open and you turned back to him. "Tease the human that has feelings for you. Ha, ha."

"But, uh." You pause, leaning on the door to look Boss in the eyes.

"Have fun getting into your room before Red or Stretch see you, Cowboy."

[myelocin]

Forever, forever | Konoha Akinori

Synopsis: And so love came with the intention to stay, to bloom, to linger. 

Characters: Konoha Akinori

Genre: Fluff, Domestic AU |  WC: 1,500+

A/N: This is a commissioned piece by @gg9183​ :D You can check out my commission sheet here if you’re interested <3

音楽のある風景  - Haruka Nakamura

There’s an afterglow that comes with coming home with groceries.

So take this: it’s February 11th, where the sun looks like summer in the sky despite the bite of the last bits of winter around. When you say home, you think of the house in the suburbs, bought after a year and a half of marriage, instead of an apartment in the city.

There’s a fridge, with some photos, hung by the magnets Akinori swiped from his boss’ office table at work. The curtains in the living room tied together by some strings you remember you found in a corner of your room and chucked in a moving box almost seven years ago, but somehow it fits.

A lot of things fit:

The grocery bags in the trunk of his car, the jacket he wears that you bought for him last Christmas, and the ring on your finger that shines with the same kind of gold as his. There’s a cabinet for shoes right by the door of your home that holds your shoes and his perfectly, and a little bell hung right by the door that Akinori hums along to every time he comes home.

Life like living in the afterglow of an “I love you,” confessed at eighteen, then an “I do,” years later. An endless, infinite sense of love found in the little things, because love is meant to do just that. To linger in the spaces in between and bloom endlessly for a lifetime and a couple more. It remains in the photos you pocket in the albums, and in the ones framed on the wall. In a spot he missed in your bedroom when you first moved in and painted the walls, and in a polaroid of that day tucked inside his wallet.

A grounding sense of home, within a house you found on a listing together. Bits of what’s you and him shown through the different hues of paint on the walls and the furniture. Your shade of mint and carnations to his smoky grey and blues. On occasions it clashes, but it works.

Love works. Life works. The little system in you settled into within the world that’s both you and him works.

And Akinori loves you like that. He loved you before the “will you marry me?” and the “I do,” because he was tripping on his own two feet and diving headfirst into the flow the second he cracked a joke and you looked at him and laughed. He remembers his red cheeks, and your smiling eyes. Laughter ringing like bells, the sound a melody instead of just noise. Time, afterwards which moved in a gentle flow, the waves sometimes rough but oftentimes kind.

As kind as the love February 11th brings him, because even if it’s just a Thursday—it’s a day where he’s at home unpacking groceries with you.

You’re laughing, retelling the story of a funny memory at the market just 45 minutes ago, and he’s sat in front of you with a bag of carrots in his hand and his heart’s bursting. As kind as love is, he realizes that it’s also just a little bit terrifying. The years he built with you, evident through the tangible pieces of today, and he’s scared.

He thinks of what it means to lose, and the idea of love—you, this, and home—as something he can lose as much as gain has his mouth feeling dry all of a sudden.

There’s too many bits of you scattered around what became home to him, that he just knows pieces of him hold your name or face now. The blankets he sleeps under smells like the detergent he let you pick out, and he doesn’t want to lose that. The exact brand of your shampoo and conditioner is something he never uses but always buys during his grocery runs and he doesn’t think he even wants to imagine a scenario where he’d have to skip the aisle. You’re the face he thinks of when he sees mint and carnations, and Akinori knows nothing’s ever going to redefine that.

But then you’re laughing again, even louder, and the noise in his head is quick to die.

“Aki,” you chuckle, and every thought that fed into his fear is hushed.

“Oi,” you say again, a little louder. “Akiiii.”

He’s home.

He remembers that the bag of carrots are still clutched in his hand and that today’s just a Thursday where he unpacks the groceries he got with you. On the table are your favorite kind of chips next to the kind he prefers.

Love is also that.

So much of it felt when the trivial things that bloom because of love are staring at him in the face, the feel of it on his palms. 

He’s staring at you, the smile on your face still true, while you reach forward to pinch his cheek when he’s a little slow to respond. Akinori’s never been the type to say much, but you know he’s always felt things as they come. Emotions raw and so, so unapologetically real, you can’t help but love him just a little bit more—even though just the day before you swore to yourself nothing would ever come above that moment.

The sight of him, wide eyes, clutching onto a bag of baby carrots, and the scarf you had to wrestle him to wear earlier that morning half slipping off makes you think otherwise. Every day, love truly does grow.

Your smile mellows into a soft line and you hop off the stool and walk in front of him.

“Grace,” he says, and clutches onto the bag just tighter.

“Hi,” you whisper, peering up at him.

In the moment, even if he could spend his days finding the right words to define that love can be this, or that. Words to sentences to paragraphs and novels—more than anything, the only definition that triumphs above even the most gentle words of a poet is that love, will always be you.

“My Gracie,” you hear him say, and even if you want to chuckle at the uncharacteristically soft way he says your name, in the moment you just let him be and hold him. You settle with taking a seat on the stool in front of him, keeping your eyes trained to him as you tug on the bag of carrots still clutched tight.

Something inside you softens at the sight of his whitened knuckles around the plastic, not budging.

“Babe the carrots did nothing to you,” you laugh.

Akinori’s sheepish with his reply, his shoulders relaxing and eyes blinking as if to get rid of the tears whose sting have been nudging at him for a while now. At the sight of you, the last of the intrusive thoughts fizz away, and what remains is what matters.

And that’s the moment. 4pm on an OK kind of Thursday, the smell of your hair just soft enough for him to smile at, and a bag of carrots from his grocery run with you in his hand. He’s home, with you, and the slippers on his feet are still the silly pair he recalls you laughing at when he first bought them. You still say his name with kindness and patience, and love him with the kind of love that had him seeing the stars and the world just a little more gently since day one.

Love, through grace, because that’s who you’ve always been. His bundle of grace in a world perceived as too rough to heal by tendrils of just love alone.

Akinori supposes the world could always be wrong in some ways.

“We’re gonna eat the carrots anyway,” he counters, setting the bag on the table and leaning down to press a kiss on your forehead.

“Yeah,” you pout, then continue, “but they don’t need to be smushed yet. They’re supposed to be crunchy. I don’t like bruised carrots.”

“Aren’t hickies the same thing as bruises? Last time I checked you didn’t complain wh—“

“Oi,” you cut him off, smacking him on the arm with a laugh. “But what’s up? Something bothering you?”

He hums, eyes glancing towards you, then at the photos and post-it note scribbles you leave for him on the refrigerator door. “Nothing,” he says. “Just thinking about how much I love you that’s all.”

“So you squeeze a bag of carrots half to death because you love me?” you snort, walking over to the fridge and placing the bag inside.

“I squeeze a lot of things because I love you babe, but I guess I’m thinking about it just because,” you hear him reply, along with noises of what you assume are just him folding the paper bags together.

“Just because,” you whisper to yourself with a smile, closing the refrigerator door and feeling your heart swell at the post it note Akinori left for you yesterday morning when he had to leave a little earlier for work.

“gotta leave early :(“ it reads, next to, “can’t wait to come home. i love you forever, forever. –aki”

[cjsinkythoughts]

The Night Shift

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 4,189

Warnings: a few bad language words (sorry Stevie), fluff, I think that’s all

Summary: Your bad day turns worse when you're given the night shift at work. But you find it has more perks than you original thought. 

A/N: Here it is! My first ever posted/published work! This is a bit new for me for quite a few reasons. 1. I usually write OCs. 2. I'm used to writing 3rd POV and past tense. 3. I like writing series and longer fics. 4k is actually pretty mild for me. Also, I'm planning on doing more first date fics with the Avengers, but we'll see if I keep up with that. Thank you and enjoy!

(Pictures not mine but collage is)

Today is not your favorite day. You woke up late, your laundry isn’t done because the machines were all being used when you tried, your roommate didn’t do the dishes so you had to do them before you left, your car broke down - meaning you had to take the Subway - and now you’re working an extra shift because your stupid coworker didn’t show up.

Who even comes in to get coffee at 9 at night? The sky is dark, the stars are out, and everyone should be getting ready for bed - including you. God. You love New York, but sometimes you wish the damn city would just go to sleep for once in it’s goddamn existence.

You’re practically asleep on your feet, getting ready to close in fifteen minutes, when the door opens, the little bell ringing in response. You rub your eyes and turn from where you’re wiping down the back counters to speak to the wackjob who wants coffee at this cursed hour.

You freeze, your eyes meeting stunning azures framed by dark lashes. Thick, soft, chocolate locks fall down past his ears and into those alluring eyes. Lips, perfectly pink and very tempting, pull up in a delicious smile. He’s got a jawline sharp as a knife, only accentuated by the dark scruff covering it. Jesus Christ this man is attractive. He’s also vaguely familiar…

He strolls up to the counter, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans that pulled taunt around his thick thighs. His shirt is pulled tightly across his shoulders, muscles flexing beneath the fabric, threatening to tear the material with every movement.

“Hello.” You thank whatever deity that might be out there that your voice doesn’t shake as you greet the gorgeous god of a man.

“Hi there, doll. Cody’s off today, huh?” Even his voice is breathtaking.

“Yeah. He didn’t show up. Is he a friend of yours?”

The man tilts his head in confusion, before his eyes light up realization. “Oh, no. No. I just come here a lot.”

“At nine at night?”

He shrugs, a small blush rising on his cheeks. “It’s the only time I get to myself really.” It clicks in your head who this man is when he raises his hand to rub the back of his neck. Black metal gleams in place of tanned skin.

“You’re Bucky Barnes!” You blink at him in disbelief. His hand quickly finds its way back to his pocket while he chuckles awkwardly. “Oh my god. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you. You’re one of my favorite Avengers! After Black Widow, obviously, but-” You stop rambling, feeling heat rise to your face. “God, I’m tired. Uh, what can I get you?” You punch in the order that he gives you and look up shyly. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

He smirks and leans on the counter. “How about a name, darlin'? Yours, specifically.”

You roll your eyes, unable to contain the snort you give. “I’ll be right back with your order, sir.” You start making his drink, avoiding his eyes that you feel watching your every move. Usually you had another worker helping to make drinks, but since there’s only ten minutes until closing, you’re alone to close up the shop tonight.

You also usually only write on the cup when there’s more than one person, but you find yourself writing down your own name on his cup. It is part of his order, after all.

“Here you go.” You repeat his order, handing his cup to him.

He raises an amused eyebrow. “You forgot-” You interrupt him by clicking your tongue and turning the cup in his hands. He looks down at it curiously, before grinning and reading the ink out loud. The way your name falls off his lips has you holding in a shiver. “Thanks, sugar.” You watch him leave the shop, whistling a nameless tune, and wonder if Cody would mind switching shifts more.

Turns out, Cody had been arrested, so your boss had to hire a new kid who, because of school, couldn’t do the night shifts. Which meant your shifts changed. Not that you mind all that much; it gives you more chances to see Bucky.

When he said he comes in often, he wasn’t lying. Occasionally he stays while you clean and lock up and the two of you get lost in conversation under the city lights outside the shop. He usually orders and leaves with a witty comment and a wink, probably off to save the world from aliens or Nazis. He always orders the same thing, but he always asks for a little something extra, different every night.

“The usual?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Anything else?”

“Your phone number would be great.”

~

“I’ll get right on your drink, Buck.”

“Awesome. Can you add your favorite flowers to that, too? Thanks, sugar.”

~

“I’m gonna change it up today, dollface.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll have the usual, but on the side I want to know what your favorite dessert is.”

He’s such a charmer. You aren’t sure if he’s just flirting or if he actually likes you. You think maybe he does that with every girl - waitresses, cashiers, secretaries - and he’s just being friendly. You’re sure after being stuck as a brainwashed assassin for nearly a century, flirting and cracking jokes with people makes him feel more normal. Still, you can’t help but wish that maybe the relationship you have now would become…more.

It’s not until he shows up a few weeks after your first meeting that you finally get an answer to whether or not he really likes you.

The bell rings, signifying a customer coming into the shop. You know it’s Bucky by the watch on your wrist; in the past few weeks of working the night shift, only one other person came in at nine o’clock.

“Good evening, beautiful.” A smile lifts the corners of your mouth at the familiar smooth voice that you could listen to all day. “Whatcha doin’ down there?”

You straighten up and look over the counter. “It’s called inventory. How’s your day been, Buckaroo?”

“Better now that I get to see your pretty face.”

You roll your eyes, face heating up and a small smile gracing your features. “Give me a minute and I’ll have your drink done. Anything extra?”

“This is a bit riskier than normal, but I’ve been wanting to try it for a while. Can I get your schedule?”

You raise an eyebrow in confusion as he smirks confidently. “My schedule?”

“Yeah. I just need to know something.”

“What would that be?”

“You free on Saturday, doll?”

* * * * * * * *

Saturday comes much too slowly for your liking, especially considering he asked you out only two days prior. He didn't tell you what you'd be doing today, so you decide on a casual sundress that you can play off as fancy if you need it to be. The color and style compliments you and your beautiful features perfectly and you can only hope he agrees. Your roommate assured you you looked gorgeous before going out with some of their other friends this morning.

You're just putting the finishing touches on your outfit for the day when a knock on your door sounds throughout your apartment. You check your watch: 10:30 on the dot. Just like he said. You get up too quickly, causing you to trip on your own feet and stumble - but luckily you catch yourself before you fall. Feeling simultaneously embarrassed and relieved he didn't see your clumsy actions, you head to open the door.

A bouquet of your favorite flowers appeared once you open the door, bright cerulean eyes shining at you from behind them. He grins, said eyes scanning your figure. "You look pretty as a picture, doll."

You duck your head bashfully, taking the flowers from him. "Thank you." You not so subtly check him out as you put the flowers in a vase. Like always, Bucky is absolutely stunning: his brown locks frame his face, falling into those mesmerizing blues, which are even more so due to the dark blue t-shirt under the light bIue jean jacket hugging his muscled torso. Dark jeans pull taunt across those thighs, his large hands in his pockets casually. You find yourself frowning when you notice his left hand is covered by a black glove. You want to say something, but decide against it, too anxious to ruin the date with this god of a man.

He clears his throat, which brings your gaze back to his face. You feel yourself heat up at the smirk on his perfectly pink lips. "Uh, I, um, so...what are we doing today?"

"I thought we could have some fun today, since all you ever seem to do is work."

"I don't always work." You quickly defend. He raises a disbelieving eyebrow, making you drop your head again. "Okay. Maybe I don't get out much."

He chuckles. "Good thing. That way I get you to myself." There's that smug smirk again. "As for what we're doing, that's for me to know and you to find out. I'd wear walking shoes if I were you, though."

You give him a curious look, moving over to grab your keys, phone, and wallet, before slipping on your sneakers. "I don't get a hint or anything?"

"And ruin the surprise? Where's the fun in that?" You giggle a bit as the two of you head out your door and down the hall. "I didn't know if you mind motorcycles, so I just borrowed Steve's car." He tells you in the elevator.

You talk about motorcycles and your opinion of them as you walk out your building and into the bright Spring sun. Your eyes widen at the nice Camaro parked in the street that he leads you to. "Wow."

"Yeah." Bucky nods in agreement. "Tony had it custom made for Steve for their anniversary a few months ago."

"And he's allowing you to use it?"

Bucky chuckles, running a hand through his hair as a pink tint dusts his cheeks. "'Allow' is a strong word."

You laugh as he opens the passenger door for you. You thank him, sliding onto the nice brown leather seat. "Does he even know you have it?"

He shrugs, shutting the door and leaning into the open window. "He'll find out soon, I'm sure."

Another laugh escapes you, a smile adorning his lips at the sound. He walks around the car, doing a hood slide to make you chortle again. While you two start driving, you try to convince him to give you a hint, but he's stubborn, denying you answers with that annoyingly charming smirk of his.

You recognize the direction you're going after a while and bounce in your seat as you arrive. "Coney Island?"

"I haven't been here since before the War and I've been meaning to come see how it's changed." He told you with a grin. "Who better to come check it out with than the pretty dame who serves me coffee at nine o'clock without complaining?"

Rolling your eyes to cover how much comments affect you, you smile teasingly in return. "Have you always been such a charmer, Barnes?"

He parks the car before shooting you a wink. "Only to angels, darlin', and you're the first one I've met so far."

You inwardly curse, hating how easily flustered you get around him. He gets out of the car and you're about to follow when he opens your door for you and offers his hand to you like the gentleman he is. You take it, enjoying the feeling of your smaller one against his rough calluses, and he helps you out of the car, shutting the door behind you.

"You ready to have the time of your life, dolIface?"

"As long as you get me a treat." You joke, linking your arm with the one he offers.

"Like I wasn't going to?" He scoffs back. "Who do you think l am, sugar? Now c'mon. Fun's awaitin'."

You laugh, letting him drag you around, loving the child-like wonder in his pretty eyes. Whether or not you enjoy roller coasters, you have a blast: playing carnival games, eating food you both know is terrible for you, but tastes oh so good, and people watching the interesting crowds, all while teasing and playing around with each other. There's nothing better you can think of to do with your free day than goof off with Bucky, no stress or worries plaguing your mind like usual. He even wins you multiple adorable plushies! Being a super soldier wasn't just good for saving the world, evidently.

It was while you're eating lunch that you ask Bucky why he's wearing a glove. "I've already seen your arm. I don't mind."

He hesitates, opening his mouth before licking his lips nervously. "It's not...I know you don't. I just don't...I dunno. I don't wanna freak anyone out."

You frown and put down your food, leaning forwards on your elbows. "First off, I think you're an amazing person. Just throwing that out there. Second, I don't think anyone will mind. You're a hero. An Avenger. Basically a celebrity with a badass arm. And, finally, if anyone does say anything, I'll tell them off. Easy peasy."

He snorts at that, before looking at his gloved hand warily. You reach across the table to give both his hands a squeeze. He meets your eyes and you grin reassuringly back. "If you're not comfortable, that's okay. Just know that other people should never be the reason to hide yourself. Trust me."

"I do." He says genuinely. You give him a questioning look, playing with the tips of his gloved fingers. At his nod, you slowly start taking his glove off, giving him time to say no. He doesn't, letting you tug it all the way off. He blushes when you lift the smooth metal to your lips.

"So, what's next? Wanna win me one of those monkeys with the velcro hands?" He chuckles at your question, telling you he'd win you all of them if you asked. You giggle, tightening your hold on his hand and, after finishing the last bite of food, pulling him to the booth with the monkey prizes.

When it starts getting dark, Bucky convinces you to go on the Ferris Wheel with him, promising to hold your hand the whole time if you're scared of heights (even though you haven't let go of his hand or arm since lunch). It's one of the most stunning scenes you've ever seen. The sun is just barely peeking over the horizon, a few stars dotting the darkened sky, a rare sight living in New York City. The aforementioned city's lights were turning on, causing the skyline to glow brightly. It's hard to think of anything bad about NYC when she looks like that.

"Wow. " You breath, enchanted by the city you've grown to love as home. "There's something almost...magical about it, don't you think?" You turn to Bucky, still captivated by the view, expecting him to be the same. After all, New York has been his home for over a century and so much has changed. Instead, you find him intently watching you, a small, adoring smile etched on his features. You smile shyly, unable to keep his gaze while he's looking at you like that - like you're the most enthralling thing he's seen, bewitching his heart and soul, even with the magnificent picture before you.

"Yeah...there is." He agrees, grabbing your chin between his left thumb and pointer finger gently, making your eyes meet. His right arm is around your shoulders, pulling you into his warm chest, heating you up from the chill the night is bringing.

Your heart drums hard against your ribs when he glances at your lips and you're sure he could hear it, even without his enhanced hearing. Your eyes lock onto his lips as his tongue darts out to wet them. You're suddenly so much closer, his right hand holding the back of your neck delicately while his left cups the side of your jaw. Your hands are gripping his jacket, noses brushing.

"Can I kiss you?" His voice comes out low and raspy.

"If you didn't, I'd probably smack you."

You feel his deep chuckle reverberate through his chest, which you just notice is pressed solidly against yours. Before you can process anything, his lips are slanted over yours. They're softer than you originally thought and they move expertly against yours. It surprises you, before you remember he's technically over a century old, so of course he has experience.

The kiss is over before you want it to be, but the need for oxygen gets too much and your lungs start to sting, so you pull back reluctantly, your hands now in his hair while he's holding your face tenderly.

"Speaking of magic."

You laugh, rolling your eyes as the Ferris Wheel starts turning again. "Who knew Bucky Barnes is such a sap?"

He smirks, leaning forwards to peck your Iips a couple times. "I prefer the term 'romantic'."

Once you get off, you hold onto his elbow, leaning against his shoulder. "Thank you for bringing me, Buck. I really enjoyed today."

"Well that's good considering we're not done."

Your eyebrows shoot up. "Wait, what?"

Bucky scoffs in amusement. "You didn't think that was all, didya, doll? The day's not over; the night's still young!" His right arm slings around your shoulders, pulling you close and kissing your head.

"Okay. What's next?" You ask curiously. He raises an eyebrow, a smirk on those delicious lips. "Another surprise?"

"Hope you're hungry, sweetheart."

"Dinner?"

Giving you a charming grin, he leads you back to the car. "Guess you'll have to wait 'n see, darlin’."

* * * * * * * *

"Buck.” You groan, toeing the ground nervously. The blindfold covering your eyes was keeping you from seeing anything and, to your embarrassment, you've already tripped more times than you care to admit. “Where are we? l feel like we've been walking forever. Can I take this stupid thing off yet?”

Bucky chuckles softly in your ear, holding you steady as you walk on the uneven surface beneath your feet. “We’re almost there, doll. I promise."

Letting out a huff, you let him lead you further along. Finally, after what feels like hours, though you know you're being dramatic and haven't been walking that long, he stops. "Stay right here," he mumbles, his hands that were on your shoulders leaving, along with his warmth behind you, with a kiss to your cheek.

"Haha. You're so funny."

A couple snickers leave his lips and you can just imagine the smile no doubt gracing his features - the one that crinkles the corners of his eyes adorably. You feel wind nip at your bare skin and shiver slightly, wondering where the hell you are.

"Okay. C'mere." His hands are on you again, the contrast of the two adding to the goosebumps the breeze was giving you. "Right here." You can practically feel his excitement and nerves as he positions you. "Alright. Ready?"

"As much as I'll ever be, I suppose."

His nimble fingers are suddenly at the edge of cloth covering your eyes, which he makes quick work of, tugging it off gently. "You can open your eyes, sugar." He chuckles, seeing your eyes tightly clenched shut. You do as he says and blink them open. The sight that meets you takes your breath away.

He brought you to a beach, which you had kind of already guessed due to the sad slipping through your shoes. In front of you, a blanket is spread out, being held at the corners by lanterns, which are connected by a string of fairy lights outlining the blanket. Pillows are scattered on the blanket, a picnic basket to the side while a single red rose is in a small vase in the center with rose petals surrounding the setup. He really is a romantic.

"Bucky. It's beautiful. When did you set this up?"

He rubs the back of his neck, turning red. You smile, enjoying the fact that you can make him just as flustered as he makes you. “Actually, the team helped me out a bit. It was originally just Natasha and Steve. But, uh, then Tony and Wanda found out and then...Sam."

You giggle, knowing his and Sam's brotherly relationship from previous conversation. "I bet he teased the shit out of you when he found out."

"Please," Bucky scoffs. "I'll be the butt of his jokes for at least a month. At least, this part of me will."

"Well, I love this side of you if that's worth anything."

He grins dashingly at you. "Then let the birdbrain tease, because that’s worth everything. Here." Taking your hand, he leads you over to the blanket and sits you down. "All those questions at the coffee shop and I never asked your favorite drink so I brought red, white, beer, Coke, Pepsi, root beer, and," he pulls out the last bottle he brought with a boyish smile. "Apple juice. There's water in 'ere too. And, o' course, the meal and the dessert, which I did ask about because I'm not a complete idiot."

Laughing, you can't help but pull him in for a kiss. "You're so cute."

He clears his throat, his face heating up while he rubs the back of his neck, tying his hair back in a knot. He hands out compliments like candy on Halloween but he can't take them to save his life. How adorable can one man be?

You two eat and talk about everything from hilarious childhood stories to what keeps you up at night. You love listening to his fascinating tales of playing through the 20s, scraping through the 30s, and fighting through the 40s. You especially love the way his face lights up when talking about his family, the Howling Commandos, and America's Golden Boy, both twink and tank stories.

After a couple hours, you find yourself wrapped in his warm jacket - which smelled amazing - leaning against him as he tells you about his new family. You sip on your preferred drink, your eyes fluttering shut, content to simply listen to his soothing voice talking about Clint and Scott's latest prank on Pietro.

"You tired, doll?" You hear him whisper tenderly, his arms around your waist while his thumbs run small circles on your sides.

You hum and look back at him over your shoulder. "Just feeling the moment." He smiles adoringly at you, kissing your temple.

"It's getting late anyways. We should get you home. Don't want your roommate worrying."

You scoff, but agree. You help him clean up and carry things to the car, despite his protests. You nearly fall asleep on the ride back, his big, warm hand resting comfortably on your thigh the whole way. He squeezes gently when you pull up to your building, murmuring lightly to wake you up.

Ever the gentleman, he walks you inside and helps you bring the armful of prizes he got you to your door. Once there, you unlock the door and lean against the frame, facing him.

"Thank you, James. As far as first dates go, this is by far the best one I've had."

He shoots you a smug grin. "Glad to hear that, beautiful. Does that mean if I asked for a second date you'd say yes?"

You give him a smirk back. "I'd say your chances are very good."

"And if asked for a goodnight kiss from the most gorgeous girl I've ever been blessed to be in the presence of?"

You giggle, ducking your head shyly. His hands grip your jaw, pulling your gaze back to him. He nudges your nose with his, whispering against your lips, "is that a yes?" AII you can think to do is nod. He smirks at your reaction, before he's pulling your lips against his. It's more passionate, less hesitant and experimental, than the few previous kisses you shared. He's angling your face to deepen the kiss, his hands tangle in your hair and his tongue prods your lips open, swallowing the little whimper you let out.

When you pull back, you're breathless, panting against his open month. "You workin' tomorrow, darlin'?" He rasps out.

"No." You try to collect yourself enough to answer, although it's hard with all your nerves on fire, his scent fogging up your brain. You manage to move your heavy tongue enough to say, "I have the weekend off."

A broad grin lights up his pretty face. "Great. I'll be over at nine. Have a nice night, sweetheart."

You nod, an airy "goodnight" leaving your lips. You watch him walk off, a pep in his step and his lips turned up. You lean back against your door, hugging all your new plushies to your chest, still wrapped up in his jacket, and let out a sigh.

You'll have to go visit Cody and thank him. After all, that dreadful night shift gave you the best day of your Iife.

[moonknightly]

and you keep me holding on : santiago “pope” garcia x reader (three)

Word Count: 5.5k+

Excerpt: “Had he told her? When she was leaving his office that night, had Santi told her how much he loved her?”

Warnings: Kidnapping, violence, mentions of blood, cursing, guns, uhhh that should be it?

[SERIES MASTERLIST]

OCTOBER 19TH - DAY THREE

Two days pass with absolutely nothing. Santi’s boss has given him strict orders to stay as far away from work as possible, and he actually decides to listen for a change. He knows he would be useless to his co-workers in his current state.

Cameron refuses to let him anywhere near the precinct either, saying it’ll only add to his stress. He knows she’s right, but part of him still wishes he could be there, just so he can sit right by the phone and be the first to know if she’d been found, but he doubts that Cameron would budge on the matter. He still begged her to call him if she heard anything at all though, and she’d promised she would.

It’s not a promise Santiago is taking lightly.

He’s hardly left Jay’s couch since arriving back in New York from Princeton. He only gets up when it’s absolutely necessary, and even then, it’s only for a minute or two at a time. He hasn’t combed his hair, has only brushed his teeth once. His drive and motivation are just completely lacking without her.

He’s been wearing the same set of sweats from the moment he was able to change out of his blood soaked clothes. He has no idea what Jay’s done with them, but he hopes they were put in the trash and not sitting at the bottom of the washing machine. He never wants to see those damn pants ever again, or the shirt for that matter. He’d been contemplating setting both articles of clothing on fire, but he was positive that Jay wouldn’t appreciate the smoke and ash filling his apartment, setting the fire alarm off and disturbing his neighbors.

But fuck, had he wanted to watch them burn.

The news of her disappearance spread rapidly, and Pope still doesn’t know if he’s thankful for the attention or if the coverage only continued to add to his rage and unease. He figures that he’s allowed to feel both.

Cameron had spoken at a press conference in the early morning following their trip to Princeton, and there had been an article printed on the front page of several newspapers. They’d used a fairly recent photo of her, one that was taken while she was dressed out in her scrubs. Santi was actually in it as well, though they’d cropped him out of course.

It had been one of his favorite pictures of the two of them together, but now it just makes his stomach sick every single time it flashes across the TV screen.

Her parents had been notified just prior to the press conference. Santi hadn’t been the one to make the phone call, and while he felt some sort of guilt over it, he was also glad he hadn’t had to face them yet — he’s not ready for her mother’s tears or her father’s icecold glare and sharp words. He knows they’re going to blame him for not protecting her properly, for not doing what was supposed to be his one job when it came to her, just as he was blaming himself.

He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to face them.

He doesn’t even know how to face his own parents. 

His mother calls him at least once an hour, and each time he lets it go to voicemail. He has 41 missed calls and almost twice as many unopened texts, but he never fails to check who they’re from, jumping to his feet and snatching his phone from wherever it lay each time a new one came through, just in case it’s an unknown number that might be her or even Nathan.

But it only continues to be his mom and sometimes the boys, though they’re trying their best to give him the space they know he needs.

He doesn’t think he needs space.

Santi starts to have second thoughts about staying away from work. The later the day drags on, the more and more anxious he feels. 

The more and more useless. 

He needs to do something other than just sitting there, watching TV and waiting for the phone to ring once again.

He’s better than this, worth more than this. If he could only work on his own or with the boys even, he was sure they’d be ten steps closer to finding her. He knows it and he can’t stand playing by the damn rules but his emotions are still running too high and he doesn’t even know where to begin.

All Santi knows is that he can’t fucking sit there and do nothing anymore.

He throws the blanket off of his legs and stands from the couch, immediately going to the bag he’d brought from the apartment, pulling out a pair of faded jeans and a black t-shirt. It’s obvious that his shirt hadn’t been properly folded, but he has his bullet proof vest to throw on over the wrinkled garment, not that he really cares and not that it really matters.

He’s out the door within ten minutes.

Parker is the first to see Santi enter the precinct. She’s sitting at one of the tables in the corner, idly talking with Cameron about a case from several years ago and she can’t help the sigh and the not-so-subtle shake of her head that follows upon seeing him walk towards them.

“I thought you told Garcia that he couldn’t be here.”

“I did.”

She doesn’t have to turn around to know that Santi’s approaching, and she still doesn’t turn around even when she senses him come to a stop directly behind her, just a few feet away.

“But you and I both know how well he tends to follow directions.”

“Yeah,” Parker scoffs, shaking her head once again and folding her arms across her chest.

Cameron finally turns in her chair, facing Santi after several long seconds. She feels a twinge in her chest as she takes in his dejected expression and tired eyes. He looks rough, and so so worried but that’s all to be expected. She swallows the lump in her throat and wills her own nerves to settle, giving her full attention to Santi.

“What are you doing here Pope?”

“Do you know how fuckin’ awful daytime television is?”

“What, Judge Judy not doing it for you?” Parker jokes, a smirk plastered across her face as she leans further back into her chair.

Santi cracks a small smile, his first one in days, though it’s nowhere near genuine. It’s so extremely forced, his cheeks ache with the effort even. He shuffles his feet gently, glancing at his shoes briefly before he looks back up to Cameron.

“I just can’t sit on Jay’s couch anymore. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

Cameron nods her head in understanding. She can’t count how many times she’s sat at home, her mind captivated by a case that she wanted nothing more than to work on for every second of the day. She tries to relate her own experience to what Santi must be feeling, but she still can’t imagine what he must be going through, as the case involves his wife and not just a random victim. She would be so far gone had she been in his shoes.

“You know,” she starts, trying to think of the best possible way to word her sentence. “You’re her husband first, before anything else you’re her partner Santiago. You really don’t need to be her detective too.” She refrains from reminding him that technically, he’s not even officially on the case. “We can handle this, Pope. You’re allowed to take the time to grieve.”

“I don’t want to grieve,” he mumbles under his breath, almost inaudibly. He sounds so completely unlike himself. Cameron begins to speak again, but he interrupts her with a shake of his head. “Not yet.”

Cameron knows it’s not the time to talk about statistics and probability. She knows Santi doesn’t need to be reminded of her chances and Cameron’s not even really paying attention to the numbers herself because this is her they’re talking about. It’s far too close to home.

They’ve definitely recovered missing persons who had been gone for much, much longer.

So she only nods her head slowly, giving Santi a soft, gentle smile. “How would you feel about doing some paperwork for me then? There’s still some notes on my desk that need to be entered in.”

She knows it would be better to give him some sort of work — something to distract his mind so he’s not just sitting there, only further losing himself to worry and panic. Santi seems to feel the same way because he nods without question, not complaining or groaning in protest like he used to whenever she’d ask him to do her paperwork.

“I can do that.”

Santi walks off without another word, sitting himself behind Cameron’s desk, trying to drown himself in busy work. He just needs to turn his brain off, put it on something else for a while. 

And it works, kind of. At least, he thinks it does, but Cameron can’t help but frown at the haunted look that lingers in Santi’s eyes, still so noticeable even from across the room. Parker sighs quietly, looking between her lieutenant and Pope.

“You sure this is a good idea?”

She doesn’t know what to tell her, because no, she’s not sure. She’s not sure at fucking all.

Part of her think that he needs to take a step back and stay away, but a larger part of her doesn’t think having him cooped up in an apartment with only his thoughts to keep him company is a good idea either.

At least this way, he isn’t alone and they can keep an eye on him. Make sure that he wasn’t doing anything irrational, make sure he’s taking care of himself, drinking water and eating.

And so, she’s honest.

“I don’t know.”

Parker only nods, her stance on the situation exactly the same. It’s a hard position to be in, no doubt, having to decide whether you’re going to act as a friend or a person of authority.

Nothing else is said between the pair, and the day drags on slowly, though no one is complaining. Slow is a nice change, especially given the added stress they’re all under. Jay returns to the precinct from interviewing some of Nathan’s old co-workers sometime in the early afternoon, instantly noticing Santi sitting at Cameron’s desk, though after one look towards his Lieutenant, he decides not to say anything.

It was just before three o’clock when Santi is broken from an almost trance-like state. He’s been so focused on typing up report after report he’s hardly noticed the world around him in the time that’s passed. He isn’t even entirely sure what pulled his attention away until he feels his Apple watch buzz against his wrist.

He rolls his eyes, only slightly annoyed at the interruption. A sigh leaves his lips as he raises his watch to see who’d decided to text him — it was probably just his mother or maybe Frankie, trying to get in touch with him again, asking how-

Santi feels his blood run cold the moment the display of his watch comes up, because the name that flashes across the screen definitely isn’t his mother’s.

The name that flashed across the screen reads “Mi Vida”, or “My Life” from Spanish to English.

It’s her. Or, it’s at least her Apple watch. Her cell phone is still at the apartment, but Santi had completely forgotten about her watch.

He quickly shakes the shock away, blinking several times as her name fades away and the actual message comes onto the screen. It’s a picture, one Santi couldn’t see very well because of the small screen and he lets out a loud curse, not caring about the stares he receives in return, hastily digging his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it and pulling up the text thread in a matter of seconds.

Santi’s stomach drops. His face turns pale and he feels the need to vomit yet again, though his stomach still doesn’t have much of anything to offer.

Jay hears Santi’s outburst and promptly makes his way over to the desk. Santi hears him ask what's wrong, but he can’t form the words, can’t make himself say anything. He doesn’t want to, doesn’t know how to. His entire focus is on his phone, on the picture in his hands. Because she’s in it, but it isn’t a happy picture — not one that he would normally sit back and admire with a soft smile and even softer eyes.

She’s in it, but she’s tied up, legs and arms bound with a gag in place. There’s an obvious cut in her eyebrow, no doubt from the broken shards of glass of their once bathroom mirror. It looks as if her hands are tied to a bed frame or a pole of some kind — Santi can’t tell, doesn’t care enough about that aspect of the photo, no.

No, he’s much more focused on her face, on the terror that is so evident and haunting he’s sure that he’ll see the same image every time he closes his eyes for the rest of his life. She looks so scared, so terrified, and Santi feels his heart shatter even further, and his own fear grips him tight and refuses to let go, doesn’t allow him to move even a muscle.

He still holds completely still even after Jay yanks the phone from his grasp, still stares into thin air at where the phone had been. Jay looks at him, concern etched all over his face until he looks at the screen, suddenly understanding the horror that’s taken over his friend.

“Cameron!” Jay calls out, the panic evident in his voice, his feet not daring to move. He feels stuck in place.

Santi still doesn’t move, he can’t move, doesn’t want to move because he feels as if he might faint but Cameron is the exact opposite, rushing over with Parker right behind.

Jay holds the phone out to her with shaky hands, but reels back when he feels it vibrate again.

Another message comes through from her watch. She, or rather Nathan, started sharing their current location — somewhere in Allentown, Pennsylvania. Santi hears the buzz, and promptly snatches the phone from Jay, looking at it for a moment before Cameron does the same to him.

She stands silent for several seconds. Part of her feels like it’s a trap, a set up to lure them off-course. It’s just too easy, it’s never that easy. There’s something entirely off about it, and the nerves in her stomach pick back up at a rapid speed.

But she can’t just ignore it because her instinct is off. It was too large of a lead to be ignored.

“Jay, call down to Allentown. Have them set up roadblocks on all routes out. Parker, start calling the surrounding towns and have them do the same. No one approaches Nathan until we’re there.”

They both fall into action immediately, doing as they’re asked, but Santi continues to sit quietly in his chair, eyes void of any and all emotion.

Cameron leans over him, pulling the chair back so he rolls a few feet away from the desk.

“Come on, Santiago,” she says gently, clasping her hand on his shoulder, giving him an encouraging squeeze.

Santi stands without a word, taking his vest off the back of the chair, putting it on slowly, slower than Cameron has ever seen him. She watches him closely, her heart sinking as she does so, as she thinks about so many different outcomes and possibilities.

If they don’t find her, she doesn’t know what will happen to Santi. What Pope will do, who he’ll become in the midst of his grief.  

She isn’t ready to lose both Garcia’s

The drive to Allentown is even more agonizing than the drive to Princeton. Seconds feel like minutes, minutes feel like hours. The wait and uncertainty of it all is killing everyone, and the butterflies in the pits of their stomachs are buzzing around in a crazy sort of frenzy, though they’re by no means good or even tolerable butterflies. They so desperately want this lead to bring something promising, but the doubt still looms over their minds, causing nothing but anxiety and unwelcome thoughts.

Santi is leaning against the cool window of the squad car. Cameron’s driving, her knuckles white as she tightly grips the steering wheel. Every few seconds, she’ll glance over at him, just to check on him, though she doesn’t expect any change. He hasn’t moved since they left the city, hasn’t said a word and still she feels the need to just keep checking. Keep monitoring.

Santi watches the trees pass by in a blur. The last time he’d been to Pennsylvania, he’d been with her, when she wanted to take a weekend trip down to State College to show him around PSU, where she’d gone to school to earn her nursing degree. She’d taken him all around campus, even introducing him to her favorite professor. They went to eat at her favorite restaurants, she drove him past the house she had spent her senior year in. They had even caught the game that weekend against the University of Michigan.

It’d been such a fun weekend, but even the memory of it couldn’t bring a smile to Santi’s face. None of their memories together seem to trigger anything in that moment and he’s been flipping through them all, searching for one that doesn’t make him want to cry. 

He thinks about all of the different trips they’d taken together, he thinks about their lazy Sunday mornings spent between the sheets, the stolen kisses and the sweet nothings whispered into each other’s ears — words spoken with so much conviction and love and trust. He thinks of the late night Netflix binges and the endless amount of family dinners her mother invited them to. Even the memory of their wedding makes Santi want to break down and sob, but he figures that to be the fact that their two year wedding anniversary is quickly approaching and he doesn’t know whether or not he would be spending it alone.

He thinks back to the first day they’d met, when the DEA had been working with the NYPD on a bust and he’d gone to interview a victim at the hospital. All it took was one look at her and he knew that he was a goner. Her confidence and her beauty had completely knocked the breath from his lungs, and he remembers feeling absolutely floored when he’d witnessed her interact with a patient for the first time.

He’d asked her on their first date three months later, after taking every chance he could find to visit the hospital. He expected her to be hesitant but she had accepted almost immediately, taking him by surprise but making him oh so happy at the same time. When he had asked her why, months after the fact, she had simply answered by saying “because I knew I was going to marry you the first moment I saw you.”

Santi had known the same, if he was being completely honest, and so he proposed after only nine months, and they married fourteen after that. He’d never pictured himself proposing to someone after such little time, really he never imagined getting married at all, but it had just felt right with her. 

Everything with her just feels so absolutely right. He doesn’t want to think about what the last four years of his life would have been like if he didn’t know her.

And of course he can’t imagine going forward without her, either. Can’t imagine waking up for the rest of his life without her by his side, can’t imagine not being able to hear her laugh ever again, or being able to tell her he loves her.

Had he told her? When she was leaving his office that night, had Santi told her how much he loved her? Had he given her a kiss goodbye? Or had he been too preoccupied with the mountain of work that had been covering his desk?

He can’t remember.

He’s almost sure that he had, but he can’t help but second guess himself because he knows how easily distracted he can become.

There’s a new wave of guilt that comes washing over him, and he can’t help but feel so conflicted. He had tried to do something nice by letting her go home when she had been trying so hard to stay and wait for him. He knew she had been exhausted, but if he had just been a little selfish, if he had just let her stay with him then she might still be here. They would’ve entered their apartment together and there was absolutely no way in hell Santi would’ve let Nathan walk out with her.

He starts thinking about all of the times he had sent her home alone before, and how many opportunities that meant Nathan would have had to take her.

He quickly shoves the thought away after feeling his head begin to spin. Santi swallows the lump in his throat and gently shuts his eyes, trying to make himself think about anything else.

He doesn’t open them again until they arrive in Allentown thirty minutes later.

They flip their lights on just after they cross city limits, but keep their sirens turned off, a few Allentown PD cars merging behind them as they pass the roadblock. Cameron is following closely behind Parker, who leads the way in the other squad car. Jay had taken Santi’s phone before they left the precinct, and Santi had protested of course, but they all knew what would have happened had Santi kept it. He wouldn’t have looked away from it, not that Jay had been any better himself, but no one thought it was smart to let Santi suffer through the car ride with it in his hand, staring at a map and praying that the location didn’t go out.

Her watch has been sitting in the same location for the last forty five minutes — just outside of a book shop in the center of town. Jay has a bad feeling about the entire situation; a feeling he can only describe as somewhere between doubt and apprehension. He knows that if it had been her and only her, she would’ve gone straight to the Police Department or the hospital. She would have called for help, would have texted Santi, something. He knows there’s something wrong, something off.

“Pull off into this parking lot here,” Jay instructs when they’re only two blocks away.

Parker does as she’s told before coming to an abrupt stop, throwing the car into park and hastily climbing out.

Santi is already out of the other car by then, he’d thrown his door open before they were even completely stopped, but Cameron had done the same.

The squad wordlessly gathers into a small circle, all securing their vests and pulling their guns from their holsters, though they keep the safety on as standard protocol. The Allentown officers follow suit, and wait for instruction from Cameron.

She glances at each of her squad members, her eyes lingering on Santi for the longest. They’re all looking at her, all except for him.

He’s instead staring at the ground, jaw clenched and mouth set in a thin, straight line. His eyes are darker than their normal chocolate shade, and Cameron doesn’t like what she sees when she looks into them. There’s a certain sort of determination swimming in his irises — hollow and cold, calculated and oh so sure all at the same time. 

She can tell with just one look that he’s plotting something.

That he’s thinking about what he’s willing to do in order to get her back, what he’s willing to give up. She can tell that he’s made up his mind, that he’ll do and risk anything to save her, and that even then, having her back might not be good enough.

“Pope,” she murmurs gently, almost flinching when his eyes met hers with a glare she knows isn’t truly directed at her. “You don’t have to do this. You can stay here, in the car.”

Santiago scoffs gently, shaking his head and biting the inside of his cheek. “And why would I do that?”

“Because I know what you’re thinking. I know what you’re planning. And Pope, if you do it, you’re going to lose a piece of yourself that you can never get back-”

“I can lose everything!” he snaps, voice raised, the anger and the pain oh so evident in both his tone and the expression written across his face. It makes some of the Allentown officers take a step back, but the squad doesn’t even flinch. 

“I can lose fuckin’ everything but I can’t lose her.”

Cameron is silent, but she still holds his eye contact, still stands her ground. Santi is the first to look away, lip quivering slightly though he quickly sucks in a shaky breath to play it off, pushing his emotions down, down, down.

“God, not her.”

The anger quickly fades and is swiftly replaced by sadness and grief, the sudden change jarring for everyone. Cameron feels a pang in her chest as she watches him attempt to hold himself together — Santi has never been good at hiding his anger, but this is different from every other time he’s let his temper show around the squad. 

It’s different and it makes her nod her head and gently clasp him on his shoulder.

“We’ll find her, and then I promise you, Nathan will get what he deserves.”

Santi sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, biting gently as he nods himself, still refusing to actually look towards Cameron. Part of him feels ashamed for the thoughts running through his head, but a larger part of him, the part he’s given into more than once in his time with the military and in law enforcement, didn’t care.

A larger part of him wants nothing more than to watch Nathan suffer.

Cameron waits a few more seconds before giving the squad the order to move, the Allentown officers following closely behind. Jay decides to put himself in front of Santi, and they all quickly make their way towards the book shop, guns drawn and aimed at the ground.

Santi’s the only one with the safety already switched off.

Cameron is several steps ahead, and rounds the corner before anyone else.

She instantly feels the dejection settle in the pit of her stomach, but she’d been expecting it.

She isn’t there, and neither is Nathan. The only person on the street is a teenage boy, looking down and fumbling with something in his hand that looked a lot like-

She stopped in her tracks, a scoff falling from her lips. Jay comes up behind her just a second later, followed directly by Santi.

“Jay, you’re positive we’re in the right spot?”

Jay glances towards the phone that is still in his hand, nodding his head as he double checks, triple checks. “Yeah, I’m sure. The signal is coming from right over there.”

Cameron nods towards the young boy, her shoulders sagging with the words that followed.

“We’ve been played.”

All of the hope anyone had been holding onto quickly fades. The atmosphere surrounding the squad turns heavy instantly, but Santi only feels a fire ignite deep in his chest, twisting his veins, taking over his every thought.

Santi pushes past Jay and Cameron, not bothering to listen as they both call his name, asking him to just hold on for a second and to just let them handle it.

The boy doesn’t look up until Santi snatches the watch away from him, gripping it tightly in his fist before using his other hand to grab the front of the kid’s shirt, effortlessly hoisting him off of the bench.

“Hey, what the hell man-”

“Where did you get this?” Santi questions, voice sharp, caustic, venom dripping from his tongue.

The boy’s eyes widen, and he holds his hands up in surrender once seeing the fury on Santi’s face, shaking his head frantically as he fumbles with his words. “I don’t-”

Santi’s fist tightens around the fabric of his shirt, and he knows what he’s doing is wrong, he shouldn’t be manhandling a young teenage boy but he’s positively seething and all he can see is red and why the fuck did this kid have her fucking watch?

“I’m going to ask you one more time. Where did you get the watch?”

“Pope!” Cameron yells from just behind him, though he didn’t turn the face her, his eyes staying focused on the boy. “Santiago, that’s enough.”

He can’t stop, can’t make himself even if he had wanted to. Not until he gets an answer.

All of the control he has left is completely gone, vanished the moment he realized she isn’t here.

She isn’t there she isn’t here she isn’t-

“Where!?” Santi yells into the boy’s face, completely ignoring Cameron’s command.

“Some guy gave it to me! He said all I had to do was sit here for a little while and that it was mine to keep and-”

“What did he look like?”

“He had brown hair and I...I don’t know man, just let me go!”

“Was there a girl with him?”

The boy looks confused now, eyebrows furrowing and lips turning into a deep frown. “What-”

Santi shakes the boy violently, only once, just enough to scare him. “A girl, was there a girl-”

“No! No, I didn’t see any girl!”

Santi feels his heart sink even deeper into his chest. He only stares for a few seconds longer, the full weight of what he’s just done to a young kid finally settling in just as his sorrow started to outweigh the anger once more. Pope looks down at his feet as he quietly mumbles something that sounded like an apology before letting go of the boy’s shirt, turning on his heel and briskly walking away, but not before Cameron stops him.

“Santiago, what the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” he mumbles, shrugging her off, desperately wanting to put some distance between him and everyone else, continuing to walk away, shoving his wife’s watch into his pocket as he does so.

Cameron calls out to him again, but just like every other time over the course of the past few days, he doesn’t listen.

As he makes his way back to the car, quickly walking past the squad and the other officers, Santi feels the anger flood into his body once again. He feels it settle between his ribs and make a home where so much love had once lived, where so much hope had been only moments before.

The constant back and forth is giving him whiplash.

Cameron still continues to follow him, still continues to call out his name but she really doesn’t think that he’ll stop, and she’s just about to give up when Santi whirls around with his gun still in his hand, though it isn’t aimed towards her. It isn’t aimed at anything, really.

The look in Santi’s eyes is even colder than before, if that’s even at all possible. Cameron feels fear prick at her skin, her hair standing on edge and her blood turning to ice. All she can do is take in his every movement and wait for a moment where she’s forced to intervene. Santi lifts his arms up, and for just a split second she thinks that he’s going to place the muzzle of the gun to his temple but he only lets the barrel rest against his skin, eyes falling shut.

Cameron still doesn’t like the fact that his finger is hovering near the trigger.

She cautiously approaches, making sure not to walk too fast, not wanting to scare him and cause him to panic. She reaches her own hand up and gently puts it overtop of Santi’s before slowly pulling the gun from his grasp.

His eyes snap open, and there’s absolutely no denying it. Not with eyes so dark and harsh and so devoid of emotion. Eyes that are almost dead.

Santiago is out for revenge. Out for blood.

He’s over this game of cat and mouse, he’s over chasing Nathan.

He’s over being toyed with.

Cameron is done watching her friend lose his mind.

And so, not caring about the anger from the entire squad that her decision will bring, she makes the only call she can think of. One she should have made at the very beginning.

One that will hopefully keep her from losing anyone else.

“I’m turning her case over. We’re done.”

[burning-omen]

Break the Rules part 2

Peter Parker x Male!Mob boss!reader

Summary: The next morning with reader, Peter, a unexpected (and unwanted) guest, and an even less welcome anxiety attack....fun, right?

Warning: a little bit of anxiety and a small anxiety attack. OH AND GUNS! I ALMOST FORGOT! Murder threats and mentions too!

Part 1

Word count: 2879

A/n: Writers block is kicking my a*s so part 3 might take longer. Also, there’s a scene that I f*cking hate so much, like reading makes me want to cringe so hard, there’s nothing wrong with it, I just wish I went somewhere else with this chapter.

Oh, Peter also forgets his pants at some point, just a little heads up.

Last time: You settled down in your own bedroom, hanging your coat and tie up by the door before drifting off to sleep.

Now:

The next morning you woke up, only to hear Peter loudly exclaim “what the hell!” From the other room.

You groaned then sat up, still hearing Peter panicking in the other room. You made your way to him, only to see him sitting on the bed with the most panicked expression you’ve ever seen on a human person.

“Peter...relax yourself..”

His eyes snapped over to you. “Where am I?!”

“Fucking Christ…” you groaned. You’d woken up with a headache that felt far too similar to a hangover for you liking. “...you’re in my house. Yours was swarming with police and I wouldn’t want them to see me or you. Understand?”

He nodded slowly.

“Good, so you're done yelling then?”

He flushed red then nodded with a small chuckle.

“Sorry…”

Groaning again, you said, “it’s fine, just come down stairs when you're ready, okay?”

“O-okay..”

“Great..” with that you walked out of the room.

You honestly had no idea why you were being so nice to Peter. You’ve never shown this kind of hospitality to anyone before. So all of this was very new to you.

Maybe this had something to do with the sudden thought you had last night.

You walked down the stairs and to the kitchen. The entire bottom floor had been completely illuminated by sunlight making cooking yourself and your guest a breakfast of bacon, eggs, and sausage a lot easier. You were a little surprised that there was food in the house. Then you remembered that you’d been paying your neighbors to bring in groceries every few weeks.

You heard light thumping from upstairs then saw Peter emerge from the stairway...with no pants. You could feel your cheeks heat up at the sight...he knows he’s not wearing pants, right?

From the looks of it the answer was no, he came and sat on one of the stools on the outside of the counter then folded his arms and laid on them.

“Sorry for taking so long…” he said through a yawn.

You cleared your throat a little then said, “it’s fine.” With a small voice crack. “It seems you’ve made yourself at home..”

He laughed softly and said, “I hope you don’t mind. Your house is just very relaxing to me.”

“I don’t mind at all..”

The house was silent other than the sounds of you preparing both yours and Peter’s plate. He looked up at you suspiciously.

“What is it?”

“Just...why are you being so nice to me? Like I understand that you want me to work for you but it seems like it’s…”

“It seems like what, Peter?”

He picked up the fork on the counter and twirled it in his hand.

“I don’t know… To me it looks like you want me to do more than just work for you…” he said, getting quieter and quieter, sinking down farther into his seat as he went on.

Well fuck. You see, you’re not the best with emotional confrontation. Or emotional anything for that matter. You could easily put on a simple “I’m Just A Suave Kind Of Person” act but that just makes you look like a fool because this has gone far beyond just being charming.

“Well...” you cleared your throat, trying to find the right words for the moments. “You see, I’ve just bee-“

You were cut off by the very loud sound of your front door being practically thrown off its hinges by no other than Markus Cane, aka one of the lower level(but not bottom tear) players from your more “private” games. He was very clearly enraged. More than likely about his recent losing streak, an unfortunate occurrence that's bringing him closer to being kicked out of the game permanently. Now he's broken into your house while you have an important guest over, which has just brought him a lot closer to death.

But, instead of letting the growing rage inside you show you spoke to the man in the calmest of tones.

“Markus Cane? What brings y-”

You were, once again, interrupted by him.

“You mother fucker!” He shouted, “You’re the reason my life has gone to shit You and your little games!”

You rolled your eyes at the disheveled man, “Is this about you losing the last few games? Because I can assure you that your...inability to play a proper game has nothing to do with me. I only run fair games, it’s your own fault that you lost.”

“Bullshit!” He pulled a pistol out of the waistband of his pants and aimed it straight at you...Sort of.

It was obvious he hadn’t slept in days, he had dark circles under his red bloodshot eyes. His hands shook and his body swayed as a clear sleep deprivation. He was delirious.

“You’re always pulling the strings in those games! Always behind the scenes telling the croupiers what to do! You set me up!”

“Trust me, I had no interest in your downfall..”

He looked at you with confusion, “‘Had’?”

“Yes Markus, had. I don’t know if you noticed but you’ve broken into my house, throw ridiculous accusations at me and now you're threatening my life, all of this done in front of my current guest of honor. At the moment I want you dead.” You said, your tone never changing.

Markus stumbled backward, the weight of what he’d done crashing down on him. He backed himself into a wall, his hands shaking so hard that he dropped the gun. It seemed as though the safety was still on so it collided with the ground without going off.

Peter, who you hadn’t been too focused on at the moment, rushed to grab it before settling back onto the stool, setting it on the table. All done while keeping his eyes on the man, who was now overcome with the realization that he was more than definitely dead.

“L-listen man, I didn’t mean anything by it. It was just a joke!” He stuttered.

You walked from around the counter, placing your hand on Peter's shoulder for a moment before moving forward towards the man.

He was frozen, mouth agape watching you.

“Now, I would normally kill a fool like you who decided to interrupt my peaceful morning, but I have a guest and that would be rude. And the clean up would take hours, hours that I don’t want to waste on idiots like you. So i’ll give you ten seconds to get as far away from here as possible..” Your voice shifted, turning to a lower, more threatening tone.

Markus stared at you for a long moment not moving until you said, “You have 5 seconds Markus..”

He was out of your house immediately, slamming the door behind him.

You turned back to Peter, who was staring at the door Markus had run through moments before.

“Peter?” You said, your tone changing from the anger laced one you used earlier to a much softer, calmer voice.

He turned to look at you, his eyes wide and bright as though you hadn’t just threatened to murder someone.

“Yes?”

You sighed, leaning against the counter next to him.

“I think it’s time for us to go.”

He nodded, hopping up from the stool.

“Okay, I’ll go grab my shoes from upstairs.”

“Mhmm, make sure you grab your pants while you're up there..”

He looked at you with confusion clear on his face, “What?”

Without looking back at him (less in a respectful way and more in a ‘I don’t want to start staring’ way) you gesture downward.

He looked down, then blush quickly took over his face.

“Shit! I’m sorry!” He shouted before running up the stairs quickly.

You went up a little after he did, heading to your own room. Quickly getting yourself ready for the day ahead of you, grabbing your tie and putting on your shoes as you exited the room.

By the time you were done and heading back down the stairs Peter was already there (with pants this time) staring down at his lap, blush still covering his face.

“Are you ready to leave?”

He nodded, more than likely too embarrassed to speak at the moment.

“Alright, lets go.” You walked over to the door with Peter right behind you, grabbing the keys from the small table next to it.

The both of you walked out, the sun was beaming down but a cool breeze evened out the temperature.

You unlocked the car doors, watching Peter slide into the passenger side quickly. You got into the driver's seat and started the car. You drove in silence for 20 minutes, every so often Peter would look over at you like he wanted to say something but would always go back to fumbling with his hands in his lap.

You decided to interrupt his anxious cycle, besides you were almost at your place of business and you wouldn’t be able to talk to him until after he was done with whatever work he has to do today or if he was suddenly brave enough to walk all the way up to your office on his own, which you doubted he would.

“Is there something you want to say, Peter?”

He stumbled and tripped over his words nervously, creating an illegible sequence of sounds.

“I can’t understand you, Peter, you need to relax..”

He stopped, taking a long breath before speaking again.

“If I wasn’t there, would you have killed that man?” He asked, barely above a whisper.

He didn’t want to talk about it but he felt like he had to know. Did he really change your decision that much? So much that you went from Yes Murder to No Murder in a matter of seconds.

“Probably. I don’t usually take any kind of disrespect from anyone, ever… But, you were there and I didn’t want to subject you to that, especially this early in the morning.”

There was a long silence after that.

Peter didn’t know how to respond and you had nothing more to say on the subject.

As you drew closer and closer to the large building both of you worked at Peter felt as though he should say something, you offered him a job, taken care of him while he slept and cooked him breakfast so he figured some sort of thanks was necessary. (You also didn’t murder a guy because of him but what ever.) By the time he figured out what he wanted to say to you, you’d already arrived at your destination but that didn’t stop him.

“I-I…” He started, but all the things he planned to say died on his tongue when you looked over at him.

His internal monologue turned to one word in that moment. Fuck, fuck, fuck…

He gulped, feeling a knot coil in his chest and in a very sudden moment his mind was on fire. Not a single coherent thought ran through his head and he felt his throat close up. So he did what he always did in moments of anxiety, he left. He opened the car door and ran into the building, not really realizing that you had to go in there too. But at that moment it didn’t matter, he had to get away. He had to get away from you, being in that car with you was throwing him into a weird anxious panic. He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know why. But once he was away from you it got better.

You were less confused than Peter was, you’d watched him long enough to know that speaking was a problem for him. Especially in situations where he felt he needed to speak but he still felt rude and interruptive if he did. But then he was flooded with the many thoughts of how it could go wrong or how the other person, the other person being you this time, would feel, which would panic him and cause him to leave as fast as possible.

You understood, he was having a hard time speaking, he panicked, he left.

It was a bit rude of him to leave your door open but you could excuse it just this once.

You got out of your car, locking the doors then pocketing the keys. Slamming your door shut before walking around to the other side and closing the door that Peter had left open.

As you walked inside and up the stairs you could feel multiple eyes watching you. Before you disappeared up the stairs completely you looked down at the many low level idiots below, and then you spotted Peter. His cheeks were a dark pink and his eyes were teary, he stared down at his feet, tapping the left with the right every few seconds. He looked so upset, not quite sad or angry just…upset.

Seeing him like that hurt. It hurt a lot.

You made him feel that way, not intentionally, no. You would never, Still, he was feeling that way because of you.

You wanted to help him, to comfort him and tell him that everything was okay but you know that you had piles of work you couldn’t get behind on. They were important and then needed to be done. That had to be done, it wasn’t opsional.

And then you remembered something that made you want to grin like a cat.

This is your business. This was your building. These were your workers.

You were in control of everything that happened here, you chose what was important.

And what was important to you right now was that boy downstairs that was looking like a kicked puppy.

So you walked back down the stairs, cut through the large group of associates that flooded the lowest floor and got to Peter.

You gently grabbed his hand, holding it close to your chest and rubbing his palm slowly with your thumb. He didn’t meet your eyes only staring at your hand clasping his.

“Peter?”

He didn’t respond but you could tell he was listening.

“Would you like to go home?” You asked in a low voice.

He quickly shook his head no.

“Okay, okay...where do you want to go? I’m not letting you stay down here, not with how you are right now.?”

He looked up at you for a moment before slowly pointing to the ceiling with his free hand. It took you a moment to figure out what he meant.

“My office?”

He nodded and squeezed your hand tightly.

“Alright, lets go..”

In seconds you were pulling the shaking boy behind you up multiple flights of stairs. In the time it took you to get to your office you’d become winded, while Peter on the other hand looked almost completely fine. His chest rising and falling a bit faster than normal but other than that there was no indication that you’d dragged him up a shit ton of stairs.

Once you caught your breath you gently guided Peter to the chair he’d sat in the previous night. You leaned back against the front of your desk, your hands on either side of you, keeping you balanced.

“So… Are you feeling any better?”

He didn’t respond for a long while, and for a moment you thought he wasn’t going to.

“A little...I-” he sighed, closing his eyes for a moment to regain control of his thoughts, “I thought getting out of the car would help but just...being in there with all those people, I-it only made it worse. For a second I felt like I couldn’t breath, it was sudden an-and unexpected.”

You opened your mouth to say something but stopped yourself.

“Honestly I don’t understand why I was suddenly so nerve wrecked back in the car. I’d been fine the entire ride but at the end I just...wasn’t.” He looked up at you quickly. “I’m not always like this, I swear! I just…”

“You’re having a rough morning, I get it. It happens.”

“I-I know, I guess I should have at least tried to handle it a bit more professionally,” he muttered.

You laughed a little, pushing yourself off of the desk and leaning closer to Peter.

“I’ve seen you in your underpants, it doesn’t get more unprofessional than that..”

His face immediately flushed red, stammering he refused to meet your eyes, “Sorry about that…”

“Don’t worry about it, you were tired, it’s an easy mistake to make..”

“Yeah, at home. Not at the house of a man you don’t even know the name of.”

This made you freeze, had you really not told him your name?

You felt you face heat up, visible or not you brought your hand up to your face, shielding yourself from your own embarrassment.

“O-oh crap..” you muttered to yourself.

You cleared your throat, straightening yourself out in a moment.

“You’ll have to forgive me Peter, I hadn’t realized that I never told you..”

He looked up at you with a soft smile and said, “I-It’s fine, honestly. It was a simple mistake.”

“Well then, let me fix my mistake. I’m Y/n, it’s a pleasure to meet you..”

[333dolans]

Light Within The Darkness // G.D

Hey loves! This is my first attempt at writing anything for either of the twins so any constructive criticism is welcomed and very much appreciated. I love you!🤍

Summary: After a heated fight with Grayson leads to a cold night alone, an unEXpected and unwelcomed visitor arrives.

Warnings: Mentions of Abuse and Anxiety. ANGSTY with a lil fluff at the end.

“Are you actually taking the piss Y/N?!” Grayson growled, slamming the door to your small, but cozy apartment. You two had been leaving a small cafè in downtown LA when you had ran into an ‘old school friend’, or atleast that’s what you had told Grayson. He didn’t buy it at all of course, he had a talent of always seeing straight through you anytime you lied. He could read you like a book, he had your body language memorised like his favourite tame song and he knew this wasn’t simply an acquaintance from your early teenage years. When he tried to ask simple questions about him, you became very tense and he could see you had began grinding your jaw at the very mention of his existence and the encounter you had just had. you’d began cracking your fingers, a tell tale sign that you were rapidly becoming more and more on edge. He didn’t want to cause an argument from his tendency to always want to know what is going on, his need for control, so he let it slide. Well that was until you crossed paths with mystery man once again. “Two years with no interaction and we see each other twice within a half a hour period? It’s a sign from the universe Y/N, we should get back together haha!” The man joked. You smiled awkwardly, feeling the heat rising within Grayson. You couldn’t tell if it was due to the mans comment, or the fact that you had lied about this man being your most recent ex. It was probably a mixture, you thought to yourself. Grayson turned on his heel and was started off towards the Porsche just a few metres away. You rushed a quick farewell and dashed after your boyfriend.

“Gray can you just let me-” “Y/N. Don’t.” He interrupted. You didn’t dare speak another word until you made it back to your apartment. The car ride was a silent one, something you wasn’t used to in your entire relationship with Grayson. You two were always jamming out to a throwback playlist and singing your hearts out. When you arrived, He made his way across to where you were standing in the living room. “Gray, I’m sorry ok? I didn’t want to make things awkward for you. He’s my ex- boyfriend, it was uncomfortable and I just wanted to diffuse the situation as soon as I possibly could.” You tried to reason. “Don’t you think I was just as uncomfortable probably even more so when I found out he was your ex?! You should of just told me but instead you lied to me.” He argued back. “How could it possibly have been worse for you G? I have so much history with him and things didn’t end well between us. Why are you making this about you? You’re not even considering how I felt, it’s always about you isn’t it?” You whispered the last part, defeatedly. “If it’s ‘always about me’ then maybe I should leave, Wouldn’t want you to be stuck with someone so selfish!” He screamed. You could feel the tears building behind your eyes, he knew as well as everyone else in your life that if there was one thing you couldn’t take, it was someone shouting at you. It always sent your anxiety sky rocketing and left you spiralling. “Leave Gray. Now please.” You whispered, holding back the desperate urge to breakdown in front of him. “With pleasure, Bitch.” He spat before leaving your apartment the same way he entered. Those words, although simple ones, held so much more meaning to you when they fell from his lips, lingering in the air and consuming your mind. The tears instantly began to stream, letting out a choked sob. “If only you knew.” You thought out loud.

You were jolted awake by an increasingly louder banging on your door. You glance over at your clock, 2:39AM. Grayson. He had came to apologise for acting like such a dick. You slipped out of bed and wrapped your blanket around you tightly. The relentless torture your front door was under not once letting up. You peaked through the peep hole, you weren’t a complete idiot, you had to be sure it was Gray. But who else would turn up at your door at this time right? Crack. You felt your heart shatter and swore you could hear the broken pieces hit the hard floor of your hallway. There, stood your ex boyfriend, Riley. You could of sworn you were frozen to that very spot, but your brain took control and carried you off towards the bedroom, rapidly grabbing for your phone and gripping it tightly to your chest. You creeped back towards the door cautiously, not wanting to make too much noise. “Riley you need to leave. Now please.” You spoke politely, which was beyond what he deserved. “Y/N! Open the door please. I need you. I’m a mess without you. Seeing you today reminded me off that!” He pleaded. “You’ve survived 2 years, keep going. I have a boyfriend Riley. Please leave.” You responded, heart non stop pounding against your chest, taking your breath away with every thump. “Y/N! YOU STUPID BITCH! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” He growled through the door, repeatedly kicking at it now. “JUST LEAVE RILEY!!!!” You retreated into your bedroom, then into the bathroom and locked both doors. You violently sobbed into the blanket that had been wrapped around your body as you reached for your phone.

To Babe💘: Gray, please.

Read at 2:45am

3 missed calls from Babe💘

To Babe💘: Hello?

Read at 2:52am

You sobbed even more, realising that he was ignoring you at a time when you needed him the most. You don’t remember when, but you must have eventually passed out on the cold bathroom tiles. You didn’t have the energy to get up, so you sat up against the side of your bath. You reached for your phone, only to see not one single sign of contact from Grayson. You felt the all too familiar feeling rising in your chest and taking control of your breathing. Another panic attack. You hadn’t had one in months due to the calmness Grayson provided, he was your light within the darkness, but he wasn’t here to save you this time. You texted him once more before you fully broke down.

To Babe💘: Grayson please, I need you. Now.

You knew this would work. His full name over text was only ever used in an emergency. You shut your phone off to try and focus on your breathing rather than how shitty your boyfriend was being right now. You had completely forgotten about the text and 30 minutes later you heard the front door swing open. “Y/N!? Where are you?!” Seconds later he enters the bathroom and finds your small form, tear stained cheeks and violently shaking from your cold night alone. “No no no, baby I’m so so sorry. Y/N look at me yeah? Focus on my voice. Deep breaths for me.”

He tried to scoop you into his arms but you cowered away. In that moment he swore he could feel his heart shatter. He had become the man he’d promised you he’d never be. Grayson knew you had and still struggle with your mental health, although he didn’t know much about the causes of it all. He let his anger get the best of him once again and he hurt you in the process. “Angel, I cant express how sorry I am. I didn’t mean to snap at you and I certainly didn’t mean what I called you.”

There it was again. His words began to replay in your head for the 100th time. “With pleasure, Bitch.” “STOP! Please make it stop Gray. I don’t wanna be back there anymore, I can’t be back there.” You begged him, clinging to his shirt now. He cautiously began to rub his hands along your back, palms sore from the strength he used to grip the steering wheel on the way over to your apartment. “Back where love? Talk to me please, I want to help you.” The feeling of Grays hand on your body, knowing he was close to you, knowing you were safe now, your breathing slowly began to regulate. You finally lifted your head and looked up to meet his eyes. Teary and bloodshot, a mirror image of yourself. You could see, scrap that, you could feel that he was sharing your pain. He didn’t know why you was feeling it, but he could feel it all nonetheless. You took in a shakey breath as you began.

“Riley seriously, they’re a pair of shoes? I bought them as a treat for myself for getting promoted.” You tried to explain to him, annoyance growing every passing minute. You were always smart with your money, never splurging out on fancy items. You’d never really felt like you’d needed them. However, earlier this month you’d been called into your bosses office and offered a better paying position at your work, which you gladly accepted. You’d decided that you would finally buy the shoes you’d been eyeing up for months now but had never talked yourself into buying. They were $300 but you decided you deserved them, your boyfriend clearly didn’t feel the same way. “I don’t care Y/N, you cant just start spending our money so carelessly, especially not this close to when rent is due and for something so minor as a promotion.” He countered, words laced with resentment. You couldn’t help but let out a snort. “Our money? It wasn’t ‘our money’ when you went out and bought that watch.” You pointed to the, in all honesty, hideous watch that was strapped around his wrist with pride. “I spent my hard earned money on those shoes because I deserved them, I worked for them.” You spoke, calmly and with confidence. “I seriously don’t understand your problem, please explain? Like I know it may be hard for your fragile masculinity to accept that not only a woman but your own girlfriend earns more than you, but that doesn’t give your misogyny a free pass to belittle my achievements”. You knew the second you said that, you would come to regret it. “You want me to explain? With pleasure, Bitch.”

The tears were once again streaming down your face once you finally stopped to breath again. “It was abusive and toxic, I knew I had to leave him, I had to get out of there so I did. I never looked back after I left but I guess life has a way of not letting you forget your past, no matter how hard you try to.” You sighed, so tired from the nights previous events. You’d explained to Grayson about what had happened with Riley turning up at your door, you’re grateful he’d left before Gray got there otherwise you may of been spending your night bailing his ass out of prison right now instead of in his arms. You’d explained about your past with him and why things had ended. You knew Gray had many more questions but it was clear you were not ready to answer them right now and you were extremely thankful he left the topic alone. You quite frankly didn’t want to entertain your memories of Riley anymore and Grayson knew that. He planted a kiss on your forehead before scooping you up, “wanna watch a film and cuddle? You can choose the movie.” He wiggles his eyebrows and gave you his signature smirk. “Yes please, only if you bring me the ice cream though!” You giggled, letting the last 3 hours fade to the back of your mind.

You were out like a light after 30 minutes, head in Grayson’s lap as he carelessly traced shapes along your arms, watching your chest rise and fall and lips slightly parted. “I will never let this happen to you again, you have my word. I love you more than I love myself angel.” He spoke gently, watching in awe as your lips curled to form a faint smile. “Mine” he thought to himself, “All mine.”