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luveline · 3 months

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Hi, if you have time and any interest, would you write bombshell!reader comforting Spencer after the Maeve arc? Like maybe she’s the only one he lets in, and she just holds him and lets him cry and puts him first.

Will totally understand if you’d rather not/don’t reply!

ty for requesting!! <3 —You come home from months away to find Spencer in love and grieving, so you do what you can. fem, 2k

You didn’t expect Spencer to fall in love while you were gone, but you can’t begrudge him. Not for having feelings for someone who isn’t you, and certainly not for losing her.

You love him, and you’re his friend first.

Your shoes make sharp but steady sounds on the stairs up to his apartment. His building is old but not rundown, lacquered wooden bannister smooth under your hand, his front door immaculate, though the hallway is busy with baskets. There’s ribbon and cellophane everywhere. It’s a sorry sight.

You haven’t brought Spencer anything besides dinner. Unlike yourself, you take in the offerings of his friends and worry you aren’t as caring as you think you are.

Not that he seems in the mood to accept it.

You look down at your mary jane’s and wonder if you’re doing any of this stuff right. Spencer doesn’t even know you’re back in the country, let alone the state. Perhaps he has no interest in seeing you after this long apart, and after such a tragedy. Who wants to see their too flirty friend when they’ve just lost a real love?

You hike the tote up your shoulder. In a chequered skirt and a simple white t-shirt, you’re underdressed. The pasta you’d made and hurriedly wrapped up burns your hip where the bag rests against you, and you have to make a choice now. Let it burn you, standing and staring morosely at Spencer’s door, or face rejection.

You only need to hear his voice. He can leave your pasta out here on the floor if he likes. What’s important is that he’s still alive in there.

You knock on the door.

Nothing. Complete silence.

Nudging aside a basket of dried fruits, you try again. A simple rat-tat-tat.

“Hey, Spencer?” you ask too quietly.

He won’t hear you through the door. Your voice might as well be a whisper if he’s in his bedroom with the door closed.

“Spencer, are you okay, my love?” you ask, louder.

You wince at yourself. My love couldn’t be more raw.

“Sweetheart, I’m just here to see if you’re okay,” you say, knocking again, before leaving your hand to rest on the door. You lean forward, forehead kissing dark wood.

You can’t hear anything on the other side.

“Spencer,” you say with a reluctant swallow, “if you’re home, can you tell me? You don’t have to let me in. Just come to the door.”

Penelope said he hasn’t texted her back for days. Derek said he’d answered the phone once or twice, but beyond that he’s silent. You had a nightmare on the plane home that you’d come back to find him as he’s found his poor girl, or that he’d turn to old vices, or that he’d finally give up. He’s been strong through every horrible thing thrown his way, and now he’s all alone again—

The door opens slowly. You stand up straighter, your surprise a whack to the chest as your heartbeat picks up.

Spencer stands at the door. He looks more tired than you’ve ever seen him, his dark circles bruised like wine stains under his eyes, even his eyelids red and sore looking. His lips are almost colourless, they're so chapped, and his pyjama pants have deep, deep wrinkles at the knees.

“Hi,” you say. “Spencer, how are you?”

His voice rings with disuse. “You’re here.”

“Came straight home when they told me,” you say softly, honestly. “I knew I had to see you. To make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m not okay.”

“I know.” You don’t know if it’s okay to ask to come in, if he’ll close the door at the suggestion, so you don’t. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” You put weight in the wrong places, too much on I’m, not enough on so. “I can’t imagine it. I would never wish this for you, never.”

“You were in Brazil.”

“I was.”

He must be tired of people asking if he’s okay, yet it wants to be asked. You bite it down, and instead offer what may be the key to getting in, or a quick dismissal.

“I made dinner for you, angel,” you say. You choose the pet name more carefully. He used to call you angel to make you feel better. “It’s just pasta, I tried not to make it too heavy in case you're nauseous.”

“I feel so sick,” he says.

Spencer’s curse is that he probably knows why he feels sick, and he probably knows a hundred different remedies or medications or prayers to get rid of it, but nothing can get rid of this feeling. You can be the smartest man alive and you’ll never outfox grief.

“Will you come in?” he asks.

You breathe a short, unbidden sigh of relief. He steps aside to let you in, and you gaze around at his shock of mess, books and blankets and furniture all in the wrong places, but it’s to be expected, and it doesn’t bother you beyond that empathetic hum of hurt tucked under your ribs. You approach his couch covered in books and put your tote bag atop them, turning to tell Spencer you’ll just quickly move these aside, and stopping dead when you see him. The door closed, his face pale, Spencer looks like everything is crumbling down around him. He looks horrified to have to watch, and he looks as sick as he’d confessed.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” you say, meaning it at its surface value. You’re sorry you were in a different country while he faced this alone. Beyond everything you’ve shared, you’re supposed to be his friend, and in a way you’ve let him down. “Please forgive me if you can, Spencer.”

He nods tightly.

“Let me move some of this stuff and we can sit down together, is that okay? Or do you need to go back to bed?”

“It’s okay.”

You do it without the grace his precious books deserve, lugging armfuls of them onto the floor, no time for tidying. You make spacious room for him and you, and your gesture gently for him to come and sit, fingers moving through the air slowly with the suggestion; he doesn’t have to listen if he doesn’t want to.

What is it about you that Spencer would let you in before anyone else? That he’d sit and watch you until you sat down, that his shoulders relax ever so slightly when you settle, your thighs aligned?

Maybe he needs someone who wasn’t there to watch it happen, and maybe you’re like family. You and Spencer may not be in love, but you love one another. Seeing him like this has you wishing you could fix it for him so keenly it’s like your hands are bruised. Pins and needles eat your fingers as you hold a hand to his elbow.

“What can I do?” you ask, murmuring so as not to disturb the quiet room.

“Nothing, I’m sorry. I don’t have anything for you to do, I just…” He squeezes his eyes closed. “I just wanted to see you. You’re the only person who– who–”

His voice lifts to a strangled high pitch as he covers his eyes with one hand.

“Can I give you a hug?” you ask.

He nods into his hand but doesn’t move. You have no qualms with making yourself big, wrapping him up, and guiding his hand away from his scrunched up face to hold you back.

You’re pretty pristine with hugs, as they go. You’re a soft touch. So Spencer holds you tightly and you cradle the back of his head, aware that you’re not who he really wants to be hugging, but okay with it nonetheless. “I’m so sorry,” you say, mouth to the top of his head, your hand stroking with light touches against the nape of his neck. “Spencer, it’s not fair.”

He starts shaking in your arms.

“The only time I got to talk to her face to face was with a gun to her head,” he says, his eye hot where it’s squished to the bottom of your cheek.

“Honey, you had something special,” you say, sort of guessing, because you had no idea Spencer was even talking to someone. Everything you know about the situation you learned from Hotch, but you can read from his level of distress how much she meant to him. “You don’t need to have been face to face to have shared something like that. Love is about connection, and I’m so sorry you don’t get to see her, but you– I’m sorry. You didn’t get all the time you deserved.”

You’d been trying to say that it doesn’t matter if he saw her or not, that their relationship was just as real no matter what, but you know he’s not just mourning her, but the possibility of a life with her he won’t get now.

“I tried everything I had to save her,” he says.

“I know you did. Sometimes we can’t do anything. It’s not your fault.”

He makes a low sound. He’s a quiet crier, sniffling and shaking against your neck.

You love him. Finding out he had a girlfriend was like being stabbed in the chest, an instant sickness, but finding out that she died? To see him in this much pain cuts deeper than a split second of thinking he’d moved on.

“You did everything you could. You did the best that you could. Spencer, you could’ve done everything right and she still wouldn’t have made it, because the world is cruel. This isn’t your fault.”

“It’s always gonna be my fault,” he says.

“No, it won’t be.”

“It will! I’m like a curse, we all are.”

You don’t know what to say. You consider offering placatives, but they’d be empty, and Spencer would know. Instead, you scratch a hand through his curls and try your best to be gentle.

“Well, I’m here for you. I know you know you have a whole team of people who want to be there for you, but I mean it, Spence. You can tell me everything. I’m here for you and I’m not leaving again.”

“You don’t have to go back?”

“I’m staying here.” For as long as you need me goes unsaid.

Spencer should rely on the kindness of all of his friends, and not just you. He needs love. Grief is going to eat him alive, just like it did with Emily; he’ll need everything from everyone, and, no offence to your friends and coworkers, you’re the most committed to giving it to him.

“I never should’ve left,” you say quietly, “but things are different now. You’re my best friend, Dr. Reid.” Your tone turns more playful. “I don’t cook for just anybody, you know?”

Maybe it’s a bit cringeworthy, but you really want him to stop crying.

He laughs weakly and wetly into your collar. “I don’t think I can eat it. I just throw everything back up.”

Aw, honey, you think. “How about a thin soup? I can make you something without any heavy creams. I make the best chicken soup around.”

“Do you?” he asks.

You want to kiss his cheek as you would’ve before you left, but things really are different now. You settle for patting his shoulder. “I do. We’ll have chicken soup, and some fresh bread, and– and you won’t have to pretend you aren’t miserable. Promise. You can be as sad as you want, honey, I just wanna sit with you and make sure it doesn’t get too much.”

“Thank you,” he mumbles.

“It’s okay.” You don’t want a thank you. “I’m glad to be home. Do you think you can get dressed? Let’s go get some stuff for dinner.”

Spencer, to your relief, gets up to get changed without complaint. He checks you’re still on the couch a few times from the doorway of his room. You have no plans on straying far.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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heian-era-housewife · 4 months

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Synopsis | Valentine chocolates may just mean the end of the great Ryomen Sukuna.

Content | Fluff, sweetness, Trueform!Sukuna

Sukuna is exposed. Sukuna is vulnerable. His very essence is in jeopardy. He fears he will lose himself.

He looks down at the small cellophane bag, crinkling it slightly as he shifts it in two of his large hands. His upper arms remain crossed, skeptically. He looks intimidating, scornful, when in reality he feels it is all he can do to keep his beating heart from escaping his chest.

He looks at you, a deep question in his eyes. His bottom set remain on the bag, entranced.

"They're chocolates!" You say, bouncing on the balls of your feet. "For Valentine's."

Returning his gaze to the small offering, he traces a thumb over one of the lopsided hearts.

"I made them!" You add earnestly. "That's why they're a little-"

Your vision goes dark as Sukuna envelopes you in his arms, chin resting heavily atop your head. You hear the pounding in his chest, feel the warmth against your cool cheek.

He doesn't know what "Valentine's" is. He doesn't care. He is dissolving in your presence. Your tiny gestures sending daily shockwaves through his very soul. He fears it may just kill him.

But at least he'd die happy, he muses.

What an extraordinary power you have. Many have fought the King of Curses, but none have inflicted more damage-rendered him more weak. You are an affliction for which he has no cure.

Nor does he want one.

"Perfect," he whispers, drawing you closer. "They're perfect."

#jjk fic #sukuna fic #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x you #jjk sukuna #sukuna #ryomen sukuna

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odoraful · 14 days

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𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄.ᐟ (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭)

zayne is known for enjoying desserts, but there’s a sweet he hasn’t tried yet that he’s been craving.

⟡ content: zayne x gn!reader; early stage of the established relationship; first kiss; very sweet (both literally and figuratively); reader being flustered and zayne being bold; you basically live in zayne's mind 24/7; sfw; 1.6k

⟡ a/n: i was listening to day 6's song chocolate and inspiration struck me (>\\<) like "i often imagine when i kiss you, i'm curious about how it would feel... i can't control my heart, i think there's another me inside me" WAAH i thought it was fitting for zayne!

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It wasn’t typical of Zayne to be indulgent. Everything was done with careful moderation and consideration, from purchasing clothing to committing to exercise. However, when it came to desserts, all the rules he set up were scrubbed from his memory. No one suspected that the cardiac surgeon had such a strong sweet tooth. That was until his co-workers saw him at the bakery near the hospital one day, contemplating seriously about which new flavour of cake to get. To everyone’s surprise, he had ended up buying a slice of each one.

Anything sweet had a way of bypassing his self-control, which, naturally, meant you as well.

Taking a moment to himself in his office between appointments, Zayne reached for the cellophane bag of cookies sitting by his computer. The red string around the bag also held a tag with careful handwriting. It read:

Roses are red, jasmines are white, I made these with love, I hope you’ll take a bite.

Beneath the message was a cutely drawn face of you winking. Even though he had read this about 20 times since you dropped it off to him before you went to work, he still breathed a small laugh and shook his head. He unravelled the string, putting the tag safely in his pocket. The cookies inside were shaped like snowflakes and frosted blue and and white. He admired the design for a moment before taking a bite.

Imagining you preparing this made him smile. You had probably woken up earlier than usual to bake them fresh, putting on your apron with a determined look on your face. Each ingredient would be carefully measured, and as much as you would want eat the raw dough, his voice of caution would pop into your head about the dangers of uncooked eggs and flour. Once they were baking, you would finish by making the icing, dying it blue. He could imagine how you’d dip your finger into the bowl, bringing the mixture to your mouth. The blue would be a contrast against your rosy lips as you licked them to savour the taste.

That image of you stayed in Zayne’s head for longer than he intended.

He finished off a second cookie. It had a satisfying texture, the icing sugary and smooth.

Would your lips taste as sweet as this?

The thought came so naturally that he didn’t think anything unusual of its presence. There would probably still be some icing left on your lips, and he would simply lean in to—

Zayne cleared his throat.

The sound broke the silence of his office and banished the trespassing thought.

Only two weeks into this relationship, and he was fantasising like a high school boy at his work. You always had been a permanent fixture in his thoughts, but now it all felt so real. He no longer thought of you as his partner in hypotheticals. Being able to kiss you, and taste the sweetness on your lips wasn’t a dream anymore. Now, the real concern was the appropriate when and where.

He tied the bag closed, saving the rest to bring home. His break was over, and he had to continue on with work. Though he had finished his dessert long ago, the taste of vanilla icing lingered on his tongue for the rest of the day.

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”Earth to Zayne~ can you hear me?”

Zayne turned to you. Your head was titled to the side, an expectant look on your face.

Though it was a weekend morning, both of you were on the sofa completing the remaining piece of your respective work—him finishing his recommendations for a patient, and you filling out a case report for your recent hunter excursion.

“Yes, I can hear you,” he replied, matter-of-factly.

You narrowed your eyes in playful suspicion. “Hm, and what about the past two times I called you?”

Zayne adjusted his glasses. “I must have been focused on my report.”

His reason would have been convincing enough, if not for your keen senses. Despite his unchanging expression, you weren’t mistaken seeing the tips of his ears turn red.

You sorted your documents back into the folder, and placed it to the side.

“You stopped typing on your laptop and sort of stared into your screen for a minute. It was very un-Zayne like I must say,” you remarked as a half-joke.

Seeing just how observant you were towards him filled him with inexplicable pride.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, tone softening.

He paused for a moment, considering his next words. Closing the window to his document and shutting his laptop, he gave his full attention to you.

“Actually, something has been on my mind.”

With a concerned frown, you crossed your legs together, sitting in a more comfortable position to listen to him. Though, you could have never predicted what your boyfriend would say next.

”I was thinking about moving our relationship to the next stage.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks. Stuttered sounds came out of your mouth. When you realised you could form no words, you covered your face with your hands. What could he possibly mean by that!? Suddenly, you felt quite conscious about where you were seated. If Zayne reached out to his left, he could easily wrap his arm around your waist. And, you knew the purple loungewear you had on wasn’t the most alluring clothing you had.

“The next stage?” you repeated in a much higher pitch than you intended.

He nodded, giving no apparent indication that he noticed the fluster you were in. He seemed too calm. Perhaps you were drawing the wrong conclusion too quickly.

“If it’s alright with you, I”—Zayne stopped his sentence short. “Could you… close your eyes for me?”

You blinked at him.

“Ohh,” you sounded with understanding, “is this some kind of surprise? Are you giving me a present?”

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “One might call it that.”

Even though his reply to your question was quite ambiguous, you happily closed your eyes. You heard a small sound to the side, guessing that he had placed something on the table. Of course, it was natural for couples to give gifts that signified the seriousness of the relationship. Maybe he bought some jewellery or a precious keepsake, you innocently pondered.

Zayne took a last look at your awaiting face. Eyes closed, lips glossy from the balm you just applied.

The sofa shifted. The weight of his body dipped the cushion beneath you. His close presence made your senses prickle. The jasmine and mint scent of his cologne now enveloped you.

When is he going to let me open my eyes?

“Zayne.”

You breathed out his name before you felt warmth against your lips.

Your eyes shot open.

Zayne had taken off his glasses (which you now realised was what that previous sound had been) and he was kissing you. Kissing you for the very first time.

Your brain and body were at odds with each other.

Your muscles froze, but you also didn’t want to pull away. Not when he initiated something you had spent so long daydreaming about, but never had the courage to do. Noticing this, Zayne raised his hand to your face. His thumb gently caressed your cheek. A silent signal that communicated a message of reassurance. It’s alright, you can relax, you seemed to hear his smooth voice in your head. Tension melted away. In exchange, your heartrate picked up. Closing your eyes once again, you let the sensation wash over you.

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Time seemed to stand still and move too fast all at once.

Zayne slid his hand down to rest at the base of your neck. Your skin felt hot against his cool fingertips.

Admittedly, he was out of practice, and the worry of doing this wrong flashed in his mind. But, when you eased into his touch, lips parting to invite more of him in, everything fell into place.

Vanilla frosting… I was right, he thought.

You were sweeter than any dessert he had tried in his life. One taste would not be enough after this. You had become a dangerous craving to him now.

Zayne withdrew, staying close to your face. Your eyes fluttered open, blinking slowly as if waking from a stupor. You were greeted with his green and amber gaze, his clear satisfaction illuminated by the morning sun pouring through the curtains behind you. Before you was a version of him you had never seen.

“Y-you’re too bold, Zayne,” you murmured.

The breath you had held during the kiss caught up to you. Your exhales lightly brushed against his skin as he stared at your lips—flushed like the colour of raspberry sorbet. He scanned every part of your expression, desperately needing to memorise your face in this moment. Everything about you was utterly perfect.

“I’m sorry for catching you off guard.”

You shook your head, the bangs of his hair brushing against your forehead. Only Zayne could blindside you with such a storybook kiss, and then apologise for it.

“You occupy my thoughts all the time,” he continued, a rasp in his voice as he whispered. “It’s unfathomable and quite distracting.”

You chuckled, the sound melodious to his ears. “I didn’t know a chief surgeon could be so easily distracted.”

Zayne smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling with mirth.

“When the surgeon has someone he likes a lot,” he closed the distance, leaning his forehead against yours, “he often wonders how sweet they would taste.”

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#odorawrites #love and deepspace zayne #zayne love and deepspace #l&ds zayne #lads zayne #zayne x reader #zayne x y/n #zayne x you #zayne x mc #l&ds zayne x reader #lads zayne x reader #zayne fluff #love and deepspace #l&ds #lads #love and deepspace fluff #love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #l&ds x reader

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alnilaem · 8 months

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HELLO HELLO HI!!! just read your butcher!simon and i’m. in LOVE??? maybe you could continue about reader like. keeps running into him at the Worst Times (running late going somewhere looking like shit, barely awake or crying in the elevator idk LOL) and he’s just like 🤨🤨??? OR reader tries to make small talk with him since they usually get off work at the same time but simon being simon he’s just like. hm. or grunts HE’S TRYING! BUT HE’S JUST a bit socially inept… oRRR reader bakes and had some leftovers and decides to give extras to simon and he’s like. Okay . and pretends that he’s not amused but secretly loves it SO CUTE AAGHH can’t think of anything else but penny for your thoughts? teehee LOVE YOUR WORKKK

ARGHHHH socially inept butcher!simon is so cute. i wanna build a shrinking machine and zap him with it and fossilise him in amber <3

Dusk has eclipsed Manchester, draping a greyscale blanket over the city by the time you enter the laundry room with a hamper tucked under your arm.

That was fifteen minutes ago. And since then, you’ve been trying to get the damn washing machine to work.

It’s an old hunk of junk. Repurposed scrap metal with duct tape lining its corners and a dog-eared note hanging above it, reading, Do Not Overload! in crude writing.

You bend your thumb into the start button for the umpteenth time, but it’s fruitless. The feeble machine rumbles to life, sputtering, then has its embers killed as it fails to continue running.

You angrily huff. Your eye bags are as laden as your muscles, heavy and weighed down with the stress of everything piling up. Job hunting; the constant maintenance your neglected flat needs; the abrasive attitude of your new neighbours.

Fleetingly, you consider moving back home. But before the rumination snatches you, you snuff it out with a swift, irritable kick to the drywall next to you, your toes bending with the impact, the pain crawling up your marrow.

“Bit uncalled for, don’t you think?” Chimes from behind you, and you swirl around, coming face-to-mask with Simon. You hope he can’t see your dewy waterline.

“Don’t believe that wall ever did nothin’ to ya,” he tacks on.

The cellophane of the plastic bag he holds—which you presume carries his laundry—crinkles as he clenches his hand. He’s swathed in sweatpants and a compression shirt, slick with a wisp of sweat, and lets his curls sit freely, its tint somewhere on the threshold between rustic cocoa and gilded blonde.

Simon’s words belatedly catch up to you. You heed his attempt at a playful inflection, unsure if it was meant for you or for him, and flush when you see how expectantly, and bluntly, he’s eyeing you.

You listlessly gesture to the washing machine. “It isn’t working.”

His grunt is prefatory. Simon walks towards the machine, poises a fist over it, and brings his hand down on it in three, sparse punches.

The machine coughs out exhaust, then burgeons into a smooth run.

“Not broken,” Simon grumbles, his words barely lucid beneath his Manchester lilt, “just fucking old.”

“I see,” you mumble, “thanks.”

Simon steps back and begins unloading his own laundry. He stuffs wads of clothing, all imbued with blood and the scent of meat, into another machine.

A pinprick of gluttony tugs your stomach. To say something, anything, to keep the conversation warm.

“The mask…” you begin, “is the black mold in your flat that bad?”

Simon turns to you, his eyes deadpan. It sends icy humiliation up your spine, leaving you pettish.

The hum of the washing machine loosely offsets the thick embarrassment in the room. Loud and tinny.

Beneath the rumble, however, a small, barely-there chuckle crosses Simon’s tongue. “Ha,” he says. It’s charitable at worst and genuine at best.

“… I should go… while my clothes’re washing,” you mumble, your cheeks hot with embarrassment.”

You’re past the threshold, stepping into the corridor, when Simon calls after you.

Your lungs stutter and stop. You want him to ask for your number, ask you out to lunch some time, but when you turn around, you feel like you’re falling.

An ornamental pair of panties dangle from Simon’s forefinger. It’s lacy, gauzy, and should be lying on the floor of your flat.

You burn a searing molten as you snatch it from his hands, mortified, and sprint towards the lift.

You turned around before you could see it. A caper in Simon’s eye, the barest implication to something more than a maladroit interaction: an amused, titillating smirk beneath his mask.

#simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #cod mw2 #butcher!simon #ghost writing #orion writing

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partyoptions · 1 year

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#party supplies #party supply #party goods #Party Favor Bags #cellophane bags #Party Goody Bags

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shojizbae · 5 months

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Too Sweet

Spencer Reid x reader

It was no secret to the team that you had a sweet tooth. Anytime you walked past an ice cream shop, your eyes lit up with unbridled joy. After a hard case, you always came into the bullpen with a box of sweets. Donuts if you solved a case under five days, Hush Puppies if there was a fallen family, or maybe some Snickerdoodles if there was arson. They were always the same pink bakery boxes with a cellophane window.

Today was no different.

"Good morning!" you signed songed as you skipped into the bullpen and too the right to the kitchen.

"What treats have you cooked up today mama?" Derek rubs his hands as he closes in on the kitchenette

"Oooh, sweets!" Emily smiles and skips over to the counter

"They're macarons."

"Ugh, those nasty almond cookies." JJ giggles as she snoops around the box

"No those are macaroons." I correct and hold a raspberry-pink macron at her. She bites it playfully out of my hand and laughs with me. She wipes the extra creme out of the corner of her lip and thanks me.

"Woah those are delicious." she goes back to her office.

"What diabetes are you giving us today." Hotch tosses a file on the counter as he walks by.

"Pistachio, raspberry, or lemon?" I smack Emily's greedy hand away as he goes back for a fourth and fifth.

"Pistachio." He leans back to look in the box "Those look professional."

"That's what happens when you have an existential crisis and take a baking course while completing your doctorate and feel like no man would ever want to marry a woman with more degrees than 'wifely skills'." You rattle mindlessly

"Well, that was our daily depressing moment of (Y/n)!" Derek chides like a sports announcer.

"Where's Reid?"

"An that's our daily 'first Spencer question' being the tally!" Emily holds a ghost microphone up.

"C'mon,"I put my hands on the counter and leans my hips forward, "I'm not as obsessed as you think I am."

"Oh, just only a little." Emily placates. The two return to their desks to grind through the many stacks of folders. I picked up the box and reorganized the disheveled cookies. I sauntered over to his hunched back. Dr. Reid, my work husband, was mangled over his desk scratching down details of a past case on a legal pad. I sit on the right side of his corner-shaped desk.

"Good Morning Spencer," I chide. He jumps slightly with the high timbre of my voice.

"Uh good morning Agent (L/n)," He clears his throat a few times.

"I made macrons," I held up the box "Would you like one? I made some with lemon, pistachio, and raspberry. Take your pick." I brandish the box once again.

"That's alright I haven't had any real breakfast yet."

"op how about some fake breakfast?" I pick up a light yellow circle and shake it twice in my hand.

"No that's really ok," but before he can protest I force half the cookie past his lips and all that he can mutter out is a disgruntled, mouth-filled groan.

"Did that taste real to you?" He sassily holds up a finger as he chews and swallows.

"That was rude." He states but takes the second half of the treat from my hand and finishes it off. A bit of the filling slings to his lips and I slide my thumb over it

"You've got a little something-" My speech is caught when his brown eyes meet mine. He looks nice below me. His eyelashes are thick but his eye bags drown out his cool amber eyes.

"Sorry," I clear my throat and lean back on the desk. "Would you like some more?"

"Yeah, can I have the pistachio one?" He rolls around on his chair. He takes a bite of the cream-filled delectable. "Woah you have a real knack for this. It's like all the ingredients want to be together. It just takes you to make things right." He gives me that dorky smile and I lose all sense of restraint. I dive in and hold his chin while I kiss him. I pull back with the fear that I stepped out of bounds.

"Come here." He tentatively holds my jaw and his kiss is much nicer than mine. He releases me and I scan between each of his eyes. "You had a little something."

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #baking

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moonhoures · 11 months

Text

Good To Me

🕷️ kinktober — day 22: overstimulation 🕸️

pairing: wonwoo (svt) + reader (afab/fem)

genre: non-idol!au, smut, fluff

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, explicit smut, shower sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, pet names (babe, baby), multiple orgasms

word count: ~1.3k

synopsis: date night ends with some overwhelming pleasure

posted: october 22, 2023

Date nights were a weekly occurrence in your relationship with Wonwoo, and you both cherished them, looking forward to them every time the new week began. This week, he had told you to dress up and be ready by the time he got home from work. So you did, all the while wondering what he had in mind for the night ahead of you.

He had came home shortly after 4 p.m, a small bouquet of your favorite flowers wrapped in cellophane with a ribbon around it. He greeted you with a kiss, but not before his eyes had raked over your frame with a loving glaze over them. His lips lingered on your lips, giving you a second and third kiss before finally letting you take the flowers in the kitchen to put them in water.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked once you returned to the foyer of your shared apartment.

When you replied with a ‘Yes’, he took your hand and led you out to his car where he held the door for you like he always did. He refused to tell you where he was taking you, but you could tell it was in the city based on where he was driving.

The destination ended up being the new clothing store you had been wanting to go to. The store was just too far out of the way of your normal route, and you hadn’t found time to go to it. So he figured he would treat you to some shopping before dinner, which was at your favorite date spot.

Once your date had come to a beautiful conclusion, and you arrived home, Wonwoo took your shopping bags from the backseat and carried them inside for you.

“Thank you for tonight, babe. That store was even nicer than my friends were telling me,” you told him, unlocking the front door for him. You let him walk in first, gesturing for him to leave the bags on the couch.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” he replied earnestly, turning to you with his usual, cool smile. He pulled you in by the waist, giving you a kiss on your forehead, then your cheek, “Should we watch some TV? It’s still a little early.”

You picked up your phone to check the time, and it was only 7:30 p.m, “Hm, I’m not really in the mood for TV. Do you want to shower with me instead?”

Of course, your boyfriend didn’t turn down the offer, but you eventually started to regret your decision. Because not even five minutes into your shower, your boyfriend had your back up against the tiled wall, his fingers buried between your thighs. He towered over you with a satisfied grin on his lips as he watched you on the edge of cumming for the first time that night. Yes, the first. Because with Wonwoo, it was never just once. Once wasn’t good enough; it was the minimum.

“Come on, baby, I know you’re close. I can feel it,” he egged you on, “Just cum for me.”

You were already a piteous excuse of a person, letting out pathetic moans and whines as his thumb circled your clit and his middle and ring finger pumped into you with purpose. Your hands secured you by holding onto his back and arm, and he loved that every time he went deeper, your grip on him got tighter. The smile on his lips only curled more when your walls squeezed his fingers and convulsed around them, soaking them in your arousal. You were glad the water was lukewarm, because your body was already heating up.

“Just like that,” he kissed a line up your jaw and on your ear, that deep timbre of his making your insides tense, “Now give me another good one.”

Before you could protest, he was sinking to his knees, the water falling onto his lower back as he lifted your leg up onto his shoulder.

“Wonw-oh,” your words died in your throat. Your boyfriend’s left hand held onto the thigh that sat on his left shoulder while his right hand continued working in your cunt. His fingers powered through your first orgasm, and quickly aimed for your second one. Only this time, he added his mouth to the mix, kissing and sucking on your clit. And all you could do was stand there and take it, resorting to watching him. It was actually such a sight to see. His dark hair, wet and sticking to his forehead while the water behind him cascaded down his back and wide shoulders. His brown eyes clouded by lust as he stared up at you, knowing that eye contact made your knees weak (figuratively).

Not even a couple of minutes had passed, but it was already becoming too much. You had no time to recover from your first climax, so your body was tense as it began building up to a second one. The muscles in your legs tensed. Your hands gripped onto his shoulder and in his hair, wanting to tug him away to give you a moment to calm down. He could practically feel your inner conflict of wanting to chase your high or push him off. He pulled his mouth away from your throbbing core—which clenched around his fingers after he abandoned it—and looked up at you with a fake confused expression.

“What is it, baby?” he asked.

“It’s too much, I need . . . need a second,” you struggled to speak as the pace of his fingers failed to slow down. If anything, it felt like he sped them up.

“You want me to stop? Tell me to stop then.”

He knew you didn’t want him to stop. Well, you did. But also you didn’t. You didn’t really know what you wanted.

That familiar, cat-like smirk appeared on his lips as he brought his face back between your thighs. And a second later you felt his tongue on your clit again, making your tummy flip. You whined, fingers grasping desperately onto him, attempting to anchor yourself to him as you were moments away from cumming again.

Anyone would tell you that having sex in a shower was not easy, but you were lucky in some aspects. Your shower was way more spacious that most, and Wonwoo took your safety very seriously. He held onto you like his life depended on it, and he was always alert to your movements. Any wrong move could result in serious injury, and that was the last thing he wanted. So he braced his hands on your legs to keep you still as he thrusted his fingers up into you as quickly and deeply as he could. When he felt the gummy, spongey texture of your walls, he knew it wouldn’t be long.

“If you want to stop you need to tell me now,” he spoke with a mocking tone, pulling away from you only a little bit.

“No! Don’t stop,” you exclaimed, bucking your hips up in tandem with his fingers.

“No? But you said it was too much.”

“Wonwoo, please.”

“I know, baby, I know. Let it out.”

Just like that, you were cumming, the most carnal, primal noises pulling out of your throat. Your insides spasmed around his knuckles and soaked his digits in your creamy essence. Your thigh clenched, moving closer to his cheek. Your lower abdomen tensed as his tongue continued to massage your clit, sending your mind and nerves spiraling. Your hands were weakly attempting to push him away, but the water made your palms slip. You resorted to making pathetic whines and sad attempts at groans of his names. Finally, he pulled away, tongue darting out to lick his lips. You couldn’t believe you had come out of that as calmly as you did. You were also nervous knowing that you would have to go through it a few more times before Wonwoo would be satisfied.

— taglist #1

@jaylaxies @xiaoting999 @kookthief @zaddywilk @wonrangwoo @pedriswrld @ikykleeknowww @odisdad @abby-grace @jungwonloveer @pinklemonadeflav @celestialplatinum @luvkpopp @nlklstan @kisses4denji @jenos-eye-smiles @a-l-i-y-a @channiesprincess @bekah931215 @heerinnie @fairygirl18 @cinnikoi @im-ur-calico-cat @unlikelysublimenightmare @k-drizzle @iguanas-world

#wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #[🕷️] kinktober 23 #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo x reader #svt fanfic #svt imagines #svt scenarios #svt x reader #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader

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sweetnans · 4 months

Text

I set myself on fire to keep you warm.

Pairing: f. reader/Bakugo Katsuki.

tw: mention of break up, mention of violence but not described because bakugo isn't a bad boy, soft and persistent bakugo. SMUT +18 minors don't interact. (Soft sex)

a/c: the end of this trilogy, I hope you liked it 💕

Part 1

Part 2

After the party, you didn't see him for a while. At least two weeks. A group of villains attacked his quadrant for a week straight unfolding in pairs each day. Even Shoto, your new partner, had to change teams and do a backup job.

The truth was that you were dying to know about him, and that felt wrong.

Friday came quickly, and so your day off. You were parking outside of your house, bringing the grocery bag with you and some little things you found that could work with your new home decoration. You even bought flowers for your new vessel.

Quickly, you turned the tv on, not expecting to see Bakugo in action, defeating a giant villain on the screen. The scenery was already controlled by the pros, Deku, Chargerbolt, and Cellophane were there, working as a team.

You changed the channel looking for a reality show, something that didn't remind you of your ex and everything that occupied your mind since the last time you saw him, like calling him, for example.

Silly girl knows better, right? But, what if he was hurt?

You shook your head and poured a glass of wine in a cup. That glass of wine turned in two, and when you noticed what was happening the bottle was already empty.

You scrolled through your socials, the guys were headline in almost every page, even the group chat of endeavor agency made a special shout out to them, filling your phone with photos of him in high definition.

You: I think I'm going to do something I might regret.

You waited for the response from Mina but nothing happened. You could blame her later for what was about to happen.

His contact was opened on your screen, the green button functioning as a magnet to your fingers. What was the harm in calling him? You could just ask about the fight, professionally purpose only, to gather techniques. After all, you were a little rusty in battle combat.

You were just making excuses not to feel like a shitty person. You needed to get your head clear but right now you were about to cry. Damn, you missed the bastard.

That was the hint you needed to press the button.

It ringed, one, two, three times.

"Hello?" He asked, agitated.

You felt nostalgic. After every big fight, he liked to steam some stamina off. To cool it down, like he used to say.

"If this a fucking prank you'll hear from me, I'll blast your shitty ass to-

"Hey," your voice sounded light.

You could hear how he dropped the weight he was lifting.

"Is that you?" He murmured, not believing. Maybe it was a prank from one of his friends. No, they would never do that to him. They feared him enough.

"Mmhm," you nodded even if he couldn't see you.

Silence flowed in the line. It was awkward, but not in the bad way. It was awkward for Bakugo, at least, because he never expected to be you when to phone rang. He knew that he had to be the one trying, but right now, after the party, after the fight, he was just taking his time to think about his next step.

"Are you drunk?" He asked straightforwardly.

"What? No!" You tried to defend yourself, but the uncommon pitch in your tone gave you away.

"You sound like it." You could feel his smug smile appearing on his face.

"I'm not gonna lie. I had this bottle of wine, and it just poofed itself out of existence, " you sighed. You were tipsy, but you knew exactly what you were doing.

He barked a laugh. A real one. The kind of laugh that made you feel it inside your bones. The kind of laugh that you missed for an entire year.

"It seems to me that you just chugged the bottle all by yourself." The tone in his voice was playful and his mind started to get those memories where you used to call him everytime you went out with your friends, finding a way to leave your friends alone and sneak to the bathroom or some place quiet just to hear his voice and tell him to pick you up earlier.

"How do you know that I'm by myself?"

The question made him shake his head.

"If you were with Mina or with somebody else, you wouldn't have called." He was probably right, you thought to yourself, Mina would've melted your phone down with acid before you even thought of calling your ex.

He liked the way that conversation flowed. With you, the talking about everything, the expressing, the feeling, everything was so easy for him. He felt nostalgic and eager to win you back. He needed this in his life, and he needed you.

"For the record, I warned Mina that I was going to do something stupid"

"Do you think this is stupid?" He pried for your answer. The moments you were taking to answer something so simple got him on the edge of the gym bench. "No bullshit, okay? Because I don't think this is stupid at all"

You closed your eyes for an instant, trying to think aside from the alcohol boost. You needed to get your mind clear because you had this idea in your mind, but once the idea left your mind, it was over for you and for him. In a good way.

"Why don't you pick up your stuff and come home already?"

...

To say that it took him ten minutes to arrive at your house is just an exaggeration. He made it in seven when most people took at least twenty. You were waiting for him in the front porch, the same porch that he paced over and over the first time he saw you in a year. You were standing there, with your arms crossed in front of your chest because the night was cold, but, you wanted to be there to see him, to wait for him, and to feel the excitement that was seeing him after a long day or in this case, week.

He saw your figure from his car. The tinted glass did him a favor. He was sweating. He couldn't stop rubbing his hands in his pants to ease the feeling of wetness and couldn't stop looking at you while doing it. Bakugo realized that he was taking much time regulating himself so he turned off the car and breathed three times to try to calm his heartbeat. It didn't work. He never had been that pented up about something, not an interview, not even a fight, but now his heart was about to explode.

You waved your hand at the sight of him. He didn't reciprocated but instead, he stomped to your front yard, opening the small gate that led to your garden. He climbed one step and the other so his face would be at the same level from your face.

"Hi," you said again, smiling fondly. God, you've missed him.

"Hey princess," he used the same petname that he has called you since he met you.

"Do you want to come in? Or should I go for myself so you can stay and find my spare key and use it? " You asked jokingly. He rolled his eyes but smiled a bit. "I swear that it's in a better spot, I hid it so well this time, you'll never going to find it"

"I bet you bought those fake ass rocks online and put it underneath it"

He knew you like the palm of his hand. You looked shocked, but he was just smug about it. Bakugo found it cute how you could be so naive with your antics and how he could easily read you even in the most idiotic things.

"Fuck, it's always so hard with you. Not my fault that you have such a big brain. " You flicked his forehead, and he was quickly to take your hand in his.

"Not my fault you don't even try"

That was sort of a deja vù. You used to fight on and on when you were in UA. Aizawa sensei loved putting you and him in spare combat that mostly ended up in the both of you yelling at each other. That line was one that you two used the most when he got you pinned down to the floor mat.

You laced your fingers with his fingers and led him inside your house. The TV was on, replaying one of your favorite episodes from your comfort series. He could recite the complete episode without missing a word because he was there every time you put it on his tv.

"You are watching this crap again?" He said mockingly.

"It's a classic, and I needed to do all the things I usually do when I have a bad idea in mind in order to keep it out, but right now, the bad idea is standing right in front of me" you stuck your tongue out and he pinched your nose a little giving you a peak of his soft side.

The vibe was thrilling. It felt like static vibrating his and your heart. You could feel his presence in your skin, aching for his touch, and he could feel your delicacy and love, always wearing your heart upon your sleeve.

"I'm going to make you some food so you can worn the booze off," he walked like he owned the place and moved around your kitchen gracefully, knowing exactly where you placed all the pots and ingredients.

The mere fact that he was there, like old times, made you feel butterflies in your stomach. The domestic treat of him taking care of you never got old in your senses. You had your moment, running away after the argument and the bad mental time that you were having because of lack of reasoning, then you completely ghosted him, trying to put in the past six years like he was nothing. And there he was, acting like nothing ever happened.

"These are very rare. Where did you get them?" He asked, lifting one of the ingredients and taking you out of your dissociation.

"Mhm, I don't remember," you told him, sparing a glance to the object. You walked towards him until you were by his side.

"What?" He said, contemplating your gaze.

You softened your face, and tears pricked at the corner of your eyes. Alcohol made you emotional.

"I'm so sorry," you told him.

His body was stiff, like a rock, but his emotions were blossoming in his face. He turned off the stove and passed his right arm behind your neck, pulling you to his broad chest. He took the chance that you weren't seeing him to give himaself out, exposing every feeling and every thought he had been running in his mind for the past year.

"I'm sorry too, baby," he murmured in your head. "I was supposed to be by your side, and I failed, I was a bad excuse of a boyfriend"

"I should've never abandoned you," you cried.

"I wasn't the one you deserved," he explained. "Right now, I know I am, fuck, I would even set myself on fire to keep you warm, to keep you by my side, to make you happy"

Your tears stained his shirt, leaving marks all over his pecs. He placed gentle kisses in your hair, soothing every regret and remorse out of your system.

You pulled yourself out of his embrace to look at him in the eyes.

"I never stopped loving you," you whispered.

He looked at you like you were his dreams come true. His eyes were glossy, wandering every inch of your face, looking for maybe a mistake, for you backing out of what you just said, but he didn't find a trace of guilt. You were genuine.

He couldn't keep it anymore.

His lips graced yours carefully, waiting for you to flinch or for a reaction so he could stop, but once again, you were eager too, you wanted him in every possible way.

Your lips smashed together, tearing apart all your armors. His lips graced yours, and his tongue made his way to your lips, tracing patterns until you opened for free access. He was desperate to taste you. You grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulled him closely, and then moved your hand to his neck, tugging the baby hairs of the nape of his neck.

"I like your new hairstyle" you mentioned in between sloppy kisses.

"Yeah?" He asked lost in you.

"It's different, shorter in the sides, you look pretty hot," you giggled when his smug smile crashed in your lips. "Don't let that compliment get over your head please"

"Oh, it's already there," he said, grabbing your thighs with one hand and tapping your lower back for you to jump.

You jumped, and he catched you without any effort, putting you on the kitchen table. Even with that boost of inches, you were just the same height as him, looking him straight in the eyes. His mouth was swollen and red, and your lipstick smuged in his lips. Before you could wipe it off, his lips found your neck, and he started kissing and nipping.

"Oh my, Katsuki," you moaned, he grunted at the sense that you were not able to control yourself anymore.

"Damn baby, I don't how I lived without you like this"

You locked your legs on his lower back, leaving him against your core, making you feel the heartbeat of your two members pulsing against each other.

His dick was already twitching in his pants and you were wet just for a few kisses. The time apart made its job. You weren't sure if you could take much time without feeling him completely inside of you.

"Baby" you panted. "I need you, like right now"

He always liked you when you mouthed your desires. It wasn't so common of you, so when it happened, it pented him up even more.

Beneath all the anger and sadness that he felt because of you leaving him, it was this Katsuki, the one who was like a kid with you, the one that could forgive you for everything you do knowing that you wouldn't do anything to hurt him. If you were right here with him, that was enough for him to put all his trust with you again.

You wouldn't leave him either.

Katsuki could feel you writhing against his body. After your plead, he detached his lips out of your neck and moved his hands to undone his pants first, taking all the breath of your lungs because the sight of his cock.

"Shit," you murmured to yourself, but his side smile made you notice that he heard that too.

Without any words, he grabbed your waist to pull you more to the edge of the kitchen table, positioning you to make you two more comfortable. After that, he decided that it was better for the two of you to take you on the kitchen stool, so he grabbed your ass and, without even thinking of it, nor even warning you, he took you and left you sitting in front of him.

"Are you sure?" His voice low ringed in your ears. You didn't want anyone but him. You nodded, allowing him to take off your pajamas shorts. "Open your legs," he demanded, and you obeyed.

In mere seconds, you were exposed to him. Glistening eyes wandered your body like it was sculptured by gods.

God damned him if he loses you again.

Putting his forehead against yours, he aligned himself in your entrance. He showered your nose with little pecks, trying to dissipate the growing but pleasant pain inside you.

"Fuck" you moaned against his lips and he swallowed all your pants like it was an elixir.

"You feel so good, baby," he muttered, buckling his hips into you.

He made it slow at first, but then, you could feel his balls slapping, putting the perfect amount of friction that you needed to be close to cloud nine. You were aching for him, following his pace to make it more delectable. He bit your shoulder to release some stamina and last a little longer, but he couldn't fool no one. His balls were tightened, trying to suppress the instinct to free his load inside you.

"I wont last long" he assured. "It's been a year"

His faint breath against your shoulder made you shiver.

"What? You didn't-"

"No. I tried, " He answered before you could even ask.

"Did you?"

You were curious. You couldn't blame yourself for wanting to know what did Katsuki in your year outside.

"I mean, I tried to date but never made it to the date part. Deku tried to set me up once, but I never showed"

That was kinda sad for the other person, waiting for him and getting nothing but an empty seat.

"I went out a few times, but I always ended up talking about you" you added in between pumps. "Even from a distance you cockblocked me"

He grunted low, almost devilish, like it was everything he ever wanted.

"That's what I needed to hear, that this little pussy is just f'me" he said in the shell of your ear giving you full of his length, filling you nicely and touching with the head of his dick your g-spot repeatedly.

"Shit, fuck, Katsuki-" you were out of breath. He was riding you nice and slowly. "Keep going, keep going, shit"

"Fucking, fuck god"

His seeds sprouted inside yourself, painting your walls with white stripes. Your core squeezing his cock in a way that got him almost gripping to the kitchen table.

You couldn't keep your thoughts in your mind while your orgasm crashed with his together in an instant. He grabbed you by the hair, pulling it back to leave you exposed to him. Panting against your neck, he closed the distance, giving you little kisses in your throat while caressing your thighs with his other hand, your legs trembling on each side of his body.

"A year is too much," you said, touching the locks oh his hair. He let go of your hair just to look at your eyes. You looked exactly how you looked when he fucked your brains out.

"From now on, you're not leaving my side if you want to go and find yourself, we'll find you together"

He was dead serious, but the look on his face made you extremely happy so you couldn't hide your smile.

"I don't need to find me anymore, I know exactly who I am and what I want," you said, trying to give him all sense of security back. He never doubted your words.

That night was his dream came true. You, half naked, against his chest in his big ass bed that he once thought it was too big for him alone, your legs intertwined with his, soft pants leaving your lips. You wouldn't go anywhere.

He knew that, eventually, you would be like this with him. He knew that he needed to be better for him and for you first. He knew that time would patch everything up and make you come back. He knew that this time, he would do everything in his hands to make you happy.

What he didn't know is that you were counting the days to make your way back to him.

He was absorbed in his thoughts while you sleep soundly in his arms. Thinking about the future, to be better, thinking about the past, to not making the same mistakes. He couldn't wait to spend the rest of his life with you, and also, he couldn't wait to rub the news to Deku and to make him feel like a loser for setting him up with a poor girl who never stood a single chance.

#bakugo headcanons #bakugo x reader #bnha bakugou #mha x reader #my hero academia #bakugo smut #bakugou smut #my hero academy fanfiction #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugo x reader #mha bakugou #mha #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha x reader #bnha #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki

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makeitmingi · 8 days

Text

When Flowers Bloom In The Dark [Chapter 2]

Genre: Romance, Mafia!AU, Violence, Angst, Slow burn

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Florist!Reader, Mafioso!Hongjoong, Mafioso!Seonghwa, Mafioso!Yunho, Mafioso!Yeosang, Mafioso!San, Mafioso!Mingi, Mafioso!Wooyoung, Mafioso!Jongho

Summary: When you appeared and wept at his mother's funeral, Hongjoong found himself wanting to find out more about you. A regular girl, who owns a flower shop in his territory and has a relationship with the mother that he hasn't spoken to in years, why hasn't he ever noticed you before?

[Warning(s): 18+ for violence, use of weapons, smoking, alcohol consumption, slight gore, gang affiliation, tattoos and character deaths. Minors DNI. This is a work of fiction and does not represent the Ateez members in real life.]

Word count: 3.2K

With an iced tea in hand, you unlocked the glass doors of your shop and entered. You turned on the lights, placing your tea on the counter and your bag in your locker. Since you were the only worker here, there was no one else to use the lockers but you.

"Roses, tulips, carnations..." You grabbed your notepad to check the incoming deliveries today. The first thing you did was check on your plants and water them.

"You're growing well." You smiled softly, seeing the plant that you sprout, moving the pot away from the direct sunlight.

"(y/n)?" You heard the familiar voice of your supplier at the back door and went over.

"Good morning, Mr Lee. Do you have any surprises for me?" You giggled. You had a good relationship with all your suppliers, they always helped you bring in quality products.

"Well, besides your usual orders, I have some hydrangeas if you would like." He climbed into his truck.

"Here." He pushed the bucket to show you.

"Oh, they're absolutely beautiful. I'll take them." You smiled. He nodded and helped you bring everything in, he usually knew where everything went.

"Sunflowers aren't selling too well." You shook your head in disappointment, seeing your sunflowers there.

"Sunflowers aren't trendy anymore. Have you seen what's on the internet? My daughter told me that girls are content with just bouquets of baby's breaths now. How times have truly changed, right?" He chuckled with a click of his tongue. You nodded and moved the roses into the refrigerated area.

"It's a minimalist thing, no? Bigger isn't better anymore. No one comes in for traditional bouquets anymore." You sighed, going to the cash register to get the money.

"Tell me about it... And this should be everything." Mr Lee said, glancing over the flowers that he brought in.

"Thank you, this is the payment." You handed the money to him. He nodded and placed it in his pouch.

"Also, Mr Lee. I remember you mentioning that Mrs Lee keep getting her hands burnt when she's working at her restaurant. I made her an aloe balm. This should help soothe the burns." You held the tin out.

"Oh, you're too kind, (y/n). Thank you so much for making this." He patted your shoulder.

"Have a nice day. See you next week." You walked him out.

"See you." The both of you bowed to each other and he jumped into his van before driving off. You returned to your counter and began your work for the day.

"Let's see..." You checked the online orders that you had and printed it out for reference.

Moving to your work bench, you began to prepare the flower preparations for each other. You trimmed the stems, removed the excess leaves and cut thorns away before wrapping them up with either cellophane or tissue paper.

"Hello? Are you open?" The bell above the door jingled. A girl walked into store, carrying a pot with her. You cleaned your hands and walked out to the front.

"Yes, we're open. How can I help you?" You smiled.

"My fern seems to be wilting and I can't seem to revive it. Can you help?" She asked.

"Let's see what's the issue." You escorted in. She placed the pot on your work table and you inspected it. The girl patiently waited, watching you as you checked it.

"From what I see, the soil isn't draining water properly. It's retaining too much water and suffocating the roots of the plant." You said.

"What? Can that happen?" She blinked.

"Yes, so that suffocation prevents the roots from absorbing the vitamins and minerals. You should mix a well drainage soil of this ratio and move your fern in." You wrote the ingredients down.

"And I can find this at the plant store?" She asked, reading through what you wrote down.

"You should be able to find the components. But if you don't mind waiting, I can mix some for you to take home." You offered. Hearing that, she let out a sigh of relief and nodded her head excitedly. You went to your storage area to grab the different soil components that you need.

"Peat moss, sand and potting soil." You mixed the components into a bag, adding some fertiliser as well since the fern currently lacked essential nutrients.

"For two weeks, put two drops of this plant reviver into the soil even if you are not watering it." You handed her a small vial.

"Thank you. Actually, do you mind repotting it into the new soil for me? I'll pay you." She requested.

"Alright." You took the fern out and got rid of the old soil. You poured the new soil in, creating a well to put the fern in. After that, you loosely covered the roots with the soil.

"Done." You smiled, removing your gloves.

"Thank you. This is actually my mum's plant and I'm helping her take care of it. I know nothing about plants." She said in embarrassment.

"No worries, the plant should be fine from here. If there are anymore issues, you can come back." You chuckled and rang up her bill. She nodded and paid.

"Thanks again." She bowed and walked out of the shop. After that, you went back to preparing your orders. There were some pick ups today so you wanted to make sure that everything was in order for a smoother pick up.

"Hi, I'm here for a pick up?" A guy walked into the store.

"Sure, can I see your order number?" You asked. He showed you the confirmation email and went to retrieve his order. It was a flower box instead of a bouquet.

"Just make sure everything is okay for you before paying." You said, rounding the counter to the cashier.

"Do you mind changing the ribbons to pink too? She really likes pink." He requested.

"Of course." You grabbed the ribbon. With pink flowers, you wanted to add contrast with a different coloured bow but since he wants it to be pink, there was no issue with changing it.

"That's better. Thanks." He handed you his card.

"I wrote the congratulatory message as you stated in request email but if you'd like to write your own message. This is a spare card, on the house." You handed him the blank card.

"Thank you, I don't know what else to write but if I come up with something I'll add it." He rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. You hummed and rang up his bill, writing the invoice and handing him a copy, along with his credit card. With a grateful bow of his head, he left the shop.

Before you knew it, the clock hit 1pm, with customers coming in to buy, place advance orders or collect orders they've placed.

'Closed for lunch.'

You sat behind the counter with a tired sigh, taking out your lunch box. Your meals usually consisted of sandwiches or leftovers from dinner the night before.

Which was why Mrs Kim would usually come with food for you, always disapproving of how your eating habits.

RING!

"Sorry, we're closed at the moment." You said from behind the counter, not looking at the door. But you didn't hear the second ring of the door opening again so you stood up.

"Oh!" Your eyes widened in surprised as Hongjoong stood there, looking around the shop.

"Hongjoong sshi..." You blinked, maybe you were dreaming. Maybe your guilt was too much that the male was appearing in your dreams.

"Good afternoon, (y/n) sshi. Is this a bad time? Should I come back at another time?" He asked with a slight tilt of his head, fingers resting on the buttons of his blazer. You shook your head, reaching to get a tissue to wipe your mouth.

"It's fine. What can I help you with?" You came out from behind the counter to properly greet him. He patiently waited as you pulled a chair for him to sit.

"Please, would you like something to drink?" You offered.

"No, I'm fine. Actually, (y/n) sshi, I came to apologise for my reaction during my mother's funeral." He stood back up.

"What? There's nothing for you to apologise for, Hongjoong sshi. I should be the one apologising, I overstepped and said too much. It wasn't appropriate of me." You bowed deeply.

"You didn't overstep at all. Your intentions were good, I reacted poorly." He bowed back.

"No, you're grieving, it's normal." You smiled softly.

"Thank you for understanding." Hongjoong held his hand out but remembered that it was bandaged and cursed under his breath, hiding it and putting his other hand out for you to shake. If you were phased by his injury, you didn't show it. You smiled and slipped your hand into his to shake.

"I should go and let you carry on with your meal." He said once you both let go.

"No, it's fine. You can stay if you'd like." You smiled softly. He let out a small hum and continued to look around your shop, observing all the plants around.

"So, this is where my mother hung out?" He asked, picking up a stalk of rose from your work bench and twirling it.

"Sometimes... She would come for lunch or tea. We would just chat over food." You replied awkwardly.

How much were you supposed to say about Mrs Kim to her own son? You didn't want to sound like you were boasting about your time with her either, that wouldn't do any good.

"I see." He said, placing the flower back down.

"Hongjoong sshi..." You rubbed your arm, unsure of how to continue this conversation.

"Sorry for making you uncomfortable. Just... The truth is, you know a lot about my mother that I don't. You've spent time with her while I didn't so I can't help but feel curious. My relationship with her wasn't as good as she made it out of be." He informed.

"Oh. Hongjoong sshi, it's not my place to judge you or your relationship with Mrs Kim. Whatever relationship I had with her is vastly different from your own." You said.

"You're very kind, (y/n) sshi." He complimented. Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment.

"I should go." He stood up.

"Wait before you go. Your bandage, do you want me to help you replace it?" You pointed. Hongjoong looked down and saw the blood beginning to seep through.

"It's fine, I shouldn't take up more of your time." He shook his head.

"Not at all. I can help if you'd like." You offered. With a soft sigh, Hongjoong sat back down.

"I'll go get my medical kit. Be right back." You told him and went to the back room to get what you needed. You also took a salve that you usually used for wound care.

"I'm not a doctor but I am first aid certified and I study medical plants in botany so you don't have to worry." You smiled and took a pair of cutters to cut away the bandages that Yeosang had wrapped around Hongjoong's hand. Hongjoong quietly observed you, not saying anything else while you focussed.

"I made this salve for wounds. It should help with soothing the wounds and healing." You explained, cleaning the blood.

"Do you always make your own medicine?" He asked.

"No, I just make simple stuff. I'm still learning." You giggled, tucking your hair behind your ear before applying a thin layer of the salve over the cuts and wounds.

"Does it hurt?" You looked up at him. He shook his head and you sighed in relief.

"You can bring that home with you to apply when you change bandages. I have some more." You explained.

"You do a better job than my brother." Hongjoong said after observing how you properly wrapped a new bandage around his hand and secured it in place.

"You should remove the bandage after 3 days to let the wounds breathe and dry." You said.

The entire time, you never once asked Hongjoong about how he got injured or acted differently. You treated it like any other scrapped knee and healed him. Usually, people would be scared or ask him how he got injured like that.

"Thanks." He looked at his newly bandaged hand.

"You're very welcome. If you see signs of infection or get a fever, go to a doctor." You advised. He nodded and took the small pot of salve, putting it into his pocket.

Will he use it? Probably not. But he saw how dedicated you were and for some reason, didn't want to disappoint you by not taking it.

"Bye, Hongjoong sshi. I'll see you around?" You blinked at your own words, uncertainty in your voice.

"Have a nice day, (y/n) sshi." He didn't address it, merely bowing his head and leaving your shop. You let out a long exhale, feeling like you've been holding your breath the entire time.

"Ah!" You suddenly remembered the silk handkerchief that you had washed and in your bag.

"Too distracted." You scratched your head and went to the counter to eat a few more bites of your lunch before you had to reopen.

You were not too bothered that you hadn't returned the handkerchief to Hongjoong. Even if you did feel guilty, you had an inkling that you would be seeing Hongjoong again soon. What ate at you more was how foreign Hongjoong spoke about his mother, like she was a stranger that he didn't know.

"Hongjoong, where are you?"

"I went out to run an errand, Seonghwa. Don't worry, I didn't drive. I got the driver." Hongjoong sighed, sinking into the backseat of the Rolls Royce he was in.

"I'm not worried about that. I just wanted to make sure you didn't do something dumb like blow up a building."

"Geez that happened ONCE, let it go... And I'm going to work, I have to go to my club." Hongjoong said, looking at his bandaged hand.

"You don't have to go back to work right away, Hongjoong. The boys and I can take over while you take a few days. You've needed to take a break for a while."

"I'm the leader of Ateez, Seonghwa. I don't need all of you to take over my work." Hongjoong replied.

"But..."

"Yes, my mother died. But sitting around isn't going to bring her back to life. I still have roles to fulfill, I'm not going to let anyone strike us just because I'm down. There are people counting on us, relying on us." He continued.

"Alright. Stay safe then, Hongjoong. I'll see you at the docks meeting at 5pm?"

"Yeah, thanks Seonghwa. I'll see you later." Hongjoong hummed and hung up. The car stopped before Hongjoong's club and the manager came out, opening the door for him.

"Good afternoon, Mr Kim." The manager bowed. The club wasn't open yet so Hongjoong could get some administrative work done.

"Get me a drink and come up to the office." Hongjoong said, walking into the club.

"Yes, sir." He bowed. Upon his entrance, all the workers stopped and bowed down to greet their boss This was the main club Hongjoong worked out of so they were used to seeing him around.

"Give me 10 minutes. No one is to enter." Hongjoong told the guard who stood by his office door.

"Yes, sir." The guard bowed.

Hongjoong entered his office and sat down in his chair. There were some things he needed to do and catch up on privately, without any interruptions. As the leader of Ateez, he had to keep track of the other Ateez members and their work, on top of his own. But the boys always did their work so it wasn't hard on him.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

"S-Sir?" Hongjoong heard the timid voice of the club manager outside his door, making him look up from his phone where he was sending messages to Yunho.

"Has it been 10 minutes?" Hongjoong asked back, tucking his phone into his blazer pocket.

"Yes, sir." The male on the other side replied.

"Come in." Hongjoong said. The door opened and the male came in with his iPad and Hongjoong's whiskey in hand. Hongjoong nodded over to the chair and the manager bowed, taking a seat opposite him.

"Update me." Hongjoong took a sip of his drink. The manager began to update Hongjoong on the business.

"We have been thinking of letting our bartending apprentice go. He had been drinking on the job and getting drunk." He informed.

"Who?" Hongjoong leaned forward.

"This is his profile. The next page has some employee complaints and customer complaints that were logged." The manager informed, pulling up the ex employee's profile and handing it over to Hongjoong to look it over.

"I won't read this, let him go. I won't let anyone be caught lacking in my business. One complaint is as good as ten. Make him compensate for what alcohol he took." Hongjoong instructed.

"Of course, sir." The manager nodded, taking back the iPad and going through the other updates.

"Continue to manage necessary manpower and suppliers to the club. Revenue is still good." Hongjoong told him.

"I will. Thank you for giving me this responsibility, sir." The manager bowed from his seat.

"This is the list of VIPs coming. As usual, make sure they are well taken care of." Hongjoong slid over the list of VIP names and the dates that they would be coming.

"Of course." The manager folded the paper and put it in his pocket.

"You can go." With that, Hongjoong waved him off and he left. Hongjoong may seem cold and merciless but he treats his employees right, at least those that do their job well. He is a perfectionist and always wants the best, there shouldn't be anything that's lacking when it came to his business.

"Send Wooyoung and San for that private poker game. That's wheret they'll meet our informant." Hongjoong said to those that were in the group call.

"Oooh, I can get a new suit done." Wooyoung's focus and excitement was obviously on other things.

"What about the governor meeting that's coming up, hyung? Are you going with Seonghwa hyung?" Jongho asked.

"Seonghwa should go with Yunho. They know how to work the charm. Plus the governor's wife seems to favour Yunho." Hongjoong thought out loud, making the other laugh.

"No one can resist that face." Seonghwa chuckled.

"Yunho's ears just turned bright red." Yeosang informed and the others could hear Yunho's yell of protest in the background.

"Wait, what time is Seonghwa hyung and Hongjoong hyung settling the issue at the docks? I want to tag along, I could use some action. It'll be fun." Mingi asked.

"Oh! Me too! If Mingi's going, I want to go!" San agreed. Hongjoong could hear Seonghwa wanting to interject but it was ignored. Hongjoong and Seonghwa could never fight the younger ones, they were simply outnumbered.

"You guys always make a mess when you get involved... This time, call your own clean up crew." Seonghwa hissed.

"You gave in way too easily, Seonghwa ah." Hongjoong laughed and leaned back into his seat.

"I already have enough to think about. I have to pick my battles. Plus, if they can handle it for us, I won't risk getting blood on my new coat." Seonghwa said.

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