#i am DEFINITELY sick and going to have to call my boss and ask what da hell i do...

[anglerfishenthusiast]

ouuuugh. i fear it is so over.

[adonis-koo]

sweet nothing • 5

(In which he is most definitely sick)

↳ Description: being a guest at the Jeon Estate after a mishap of being kidnapped and dragged into your brothers affairs isn’t all that bad. Truth be told it brings you a lot closer to the mobster and owner of the estate Jeon Jungkook himself.

His two rules are simple, don’t cause trouble and don’t give him a hard time. Somehow you manage to constantly do both in the most endearing way despite being pregnant and waddling around most of the time.

↳ Pairing: Jungkook/reader, ???/reader

↳ Genre: slice of life AU, mafia!AU, pregnancy, there’s like…a little bit of a plot but not a lot, future smut? maybe? it's very domestic!

Word Count: 2k

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Note: I'm back AGAIN, simply because I can't get enough of these two!!! they're my life line these days tbh! i know I said there wasn't a lot of plot to this BUT....theres definitely some plot if you squint

“Are you sick?” 

Jungkook looked horrendous, it was evident he hadn’t showered yet, as his hair was somewhat oily, wild and unbrushed, his voice was raspy and the moment he greeted you good morning, it was evident he was congested. 

“I don’t get sick.” Jungkook replied, but his voice alone gave away the discomfort he was feeling, he sat at the small table attempting to eat but after two bites and the pure agony of attempting to swallow, he gave up. 

Your lips parted before closing once more, a sigh escaping you, “If only that were the case,” this had been your concern since he had come home late a few days ago, soaked to the bone and freezing cold. 

Yesterday when he had taken you out you noticed he had been sniffling, but aside from that he sounded totally find, today he looks like he had been hit with a car.

Jungkook rolled his eyes, “I have three board meetings today, a stack of paper work in my office that needs to be signed and a deal tonight at the Red Light, I can’t afford to be sick.” 

“Jungkook,” You chastised softly, “Do you even hear yourself? I don’t think anybody is gonna want to be around you when you sound like that. What are your symptoms?” 

“I’m not-”

“Yes you are!” You spoke over him, your expression shifting into anger at his stubbornness, “whether you like it or not! You’re sick. Now tell me so I can figure out whether I need Jimin to call the doctor or not.” 

Jungkook groaned as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms in thought before he reluctantly spoke, “My throat feels like it’s on fire. Even speaking feels like I’m swallowing a dagger.”

“And I have a massive headache,” He ushered softly, eyes closing as he rubbed his head.

Your expression softened once more, “Why don’t you go lay down? I’ll call for Jimin to get the doctor and make sure you’re alright,”

“I am alright.” Jungkook replied, puffed up at your words, one glare however shut him up.

He tiredly blinked as he sunk into his seat, “I can’t just take the day off.” 

“Then do what you can from bed.” You said with a frown, “But you’ll make others sick and yourself worse if you go out today.” 

He said nothing got a long moment before he shook his head and got out of his chair, your eyes followed him across the room until he left, somewhat surprised at his lack of argument.

Yeonjun who had been digging through a folder off to the side briefly glanced up to the closed door and then to you, “That’s a first.”

“Pardon?” You asked.

He smiled, “Jungkook letting someone boss him around. It’s a rather nice change of pace.” 

You scratched your cheek, uncertain of how to take the his words, your lack of reply only made Yeonjun continue though, “Y’know he used to..,” He cut himself off, as if realizing it wasn’t his place to meddle, “Sorry, I won’t bring it up. I’m sure neither of you want to dig up the past.”

The past…You gave a sad smile, picking at your food, “It’s alright, there’s nothing to dig up, Jungkook was a nice acquaintance back before I was pregnant, if you could even call him that. Nothing more…Yoongi is his partner, right?”

Yeonjun frowned, looking away warily before he eventually nodded, “You’ve met?”

You shook your head, “Only once, a long time ago, informally might I add.” 

“Do you want me to ring for Jimin?” Yeonjun decided to change the subject, “That way you can finish eating?”

You nodded with a grateful smile, “Yes! That would be quite helpful.” 

Jungkook looked downright annoyed as the doctor poked and prodded at him before he had finally come to a conclusion.

Turning to you as it was evident Jungkook was not in a good mood, “The good news is that it’s only a case of tonsillitis.” 

You sighed in relief before you asked, “Is there bad news?”

“It’s a bacterial infection, so we’ll need to put him on antibiotics. Lots of rest and warm, soft foods will help, he should be better in a few days at most once the antibiotics are in his system.” The doctor gave a warm smile.

“Few days?” Jungkook’s brows pinched together in annoyance.

“I’ll be sure to keep him rested.” You cut over him with a smile, “Thank you Doctor Choi.” 

“Of course Y/n, I will see you on Friday for your check up.” He gave a short bow before existing the room.

“I can’t be in bed for a few days!” Jungkook immediately piped up, though you didn’t miss the slight wince in expression at the obvious pain he was feeling.

“Doctors orders.” You gave him a sweet smile as you held your hands up.

He slumped back, glaring through his bangs at nothing in particular, “Can you at least get my laptop?” 

You let out a noise of amusement as you stood up, one hand on your stomach, the other on your dully aching back, “I didn’t realize having strep throat made your legs not work.” 

“You want me in bed or not?” 

“I’m going, I’m going.” You giggled as you waddled out of the room and into the open space of his office, digging through paperwork you made sure nothing was messed up, before finding his laptop charger and eventually finding the source as well. 

Opening the cracked door to his room however you smiled softly as the sight of him laid back down, knocked out once again, a soft snore even escaping him as you tutted, walking over you set his laptop on his nightstand before tenderly pulling his covers back over his shoulder. 

His expression looked so delicate when he was asleep, lips parted slightly and brows relaxed, tenderly you brushed your fingers through his hair before catching yourself. 

Your hand snapping back to your chest as if it had been burned, swallowing hard you shook your head, you had been thinking about the past a lot more these days. 

You couldn’t help but wonder if Jungkook did the same. 

Frowning you shook your head before you exited his room, there was no point dwelling on the what-if’s after all. 

Most of the day had gone by quietly, there was something different about the estate when Jungkook was home, even if he was sleeping away or working in his room, his energy still filled the air and brought a comforting feeling to whatever you did. 

Eventually the afternoon passed and an idea had overtaken you. 

“What are you doing?” Yeonjun paused at the door as he cocked his head to the side, brimming with curiosity. 

You turned towards Yeonjun with a grin, “You can’t tell Jungkook.”

He sighed, “I hate when you start a sentence with that.” 

You pouted, “I’m making him soup!” 

Yeonjun looked relieved, “Oh…okay, better than I anticipated, it does smell good here.” He glanced around the empty kitchen, “But the kitchen staff are already preparing supper.” 

You crossed your arms once more, “Well, that doesn’t change that I’m making him something to eat. There’s nothing like home cooking when you’re sick!”

Yeonjun held up his hands, “If it’s from you I’m sure he’ll love it….” He shuffled closer before peering over your shoulder, “Will there be extra?” 

“Are you asking for a bowl?” You grinned.

“Only if there’s extra.” 

“There’s plenty.” You replied with an excited smile, giving a little happy dance as you grabbed a set of bowls, proudly pouring your soup before handing one to Yeonjun who looked like a little kid snatching it from your hands. 

Setting the other bowl on a tray you tided it up with a nice hot ginger plum tea and a few napkins, “Tell me how it tastes! I’m gonna run this up to his room.” 

“Don’t you want some?” Yeonjun had already grabbed a spoon, slurping noodles. 

You grimaced, “Honestly the taste of chicken broth makes me wanna vomit, back when I had morning sickness the smell alone had me gagging.” 

“That’s a shame because this is honestly the best soup I’ve ever had- second actually,” Yeonjun smiled at his bowl, “Reminds me of my mom’s when I was sick as a kid.” 

You only smiled at his words before briefly glancing down at your stomach, large and round, you could only hope you’d make the best soup your baby would love one day. 

“Well nothing can beat mom’s soup, hopefully it’ll be second best for Jungkook too.” You laughed a little as you walked past Yeonjun, carefully holding the tray. 

You didn’t know much about Jungkook, truthfully, sure you had talked pre-pregnancy, but it always…you huffed, shaking your head.

This had been happening more frequently, memories of the past would surface and you’d have to shove them back down, the past was the past for a reason. You could only assume they kept coming up because well…

It was Jungkook. 

Knocking on his door you heard a scratchy ‘come in’ before opening the door. 

Jungkook was sat up in bed, looking tired as he typed away on his laptop, eyes dragging towards you before you noticed them brighten just a little. 

His eyes then dropped to the tray before he stiffened, “Why are you carrying that?” 

“I can-” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before Jungkook had already gotten out of bed, swaggering up to you before grabbing the tray. 

“Ask Yeonjun next time.” It was difficult to take his chided words serious when he was rasping this hard, a wince visible on his face as he continued, “If you drop that-” 

“How many times do I have to tell you,” You huffed, “I’m pregnant, not dying.” Your expression softened a little as a small smile tugged on your lips at the sight of his floppy bangs covering his eyes in a sulky manner, “Lay back down, I made you something to sip on. I always loved warm broth when I was younger.” 

Jungkook set the tray on his nightstand as he sat back down at the edge of the bed, staring down at the steaming bowl, his expression nonpulsed for a long moment. 

“You do like soup right?” You shuffled a little nervous at his quietness. 

“Who the fuck doesn’t like soup?” He quipped, “I just…” He glanced away, “You didn’t have to do that…” 

“Of course I did!” You replied immediately, “If I don’t then who will?” 

Jungkook parted his lips before closing them, sighing but not saying anything else as he propped his nightstand up, it extended upwards before turning towards him, he paused before taking a sip, “Well don’t just stand there.” 

You glanced around the room, not much had changed, a few chairs still against the wall, a particular spot open to the wall, opposite to a mirror on the other side of the room hanging. 

“Have you considered redecorating?” You asked as you rounded the bed, choosing to sit beside him on the empty side. 

Groaning you rested your back against the headboard as your hands dropped to your stomach. 

Jungkook shrugged beside you, “Not much reason too. I thought it looked fine.” 

He plopped the spoon in his mouth as his eyes shut. He was never a very expressive person, but there was something about that satisfied look on his face that made you smile.

“It’s alright, it's just…” You trailed off, suddenly feeling as though you weren’t as ready to have this conversation as you thought you were.

“Just what?” Jungkook’s brows furrowed. 

You forced a smile as you shook your head, “Nothing.” 

The same way you last remembered it.

You glanced at the that small open space of the wall between both the chairs, how cold it felt against your back when…

Jungkook could obviously sense the uncomfortable silence, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“The soup.” 

A somewhat hesitant smile tugged on your lips, “Of course. I’m…” Your smile became disheartened as you stood up, “I’m gonna start preparing for bed, you should get some more rest.” 

Jungkook frowned but said nothing, though it looked like he wanted to, he only nodded. 

You left his room feeling your feet drag as you closed your eyes, this feeling was something you were used to when it came to him.

This feeling of always dancing around one another, never talking about the tension in the room, except now it was even more evident then before. 

You’d have to talk about it eventually. 

I forgot all about my tags last chapter so I apologize!

taglist: @btseverafter7 @scuzmunkie @zae007live @cynicalbitch666 @somehowukook @bartisedrew @princess-sunshyn @jungk-shook-iiee @chickpea-jimin @hoseokteardrop @guk97butterfly @givemethemaknaes16 @bxcndd

[myfandomprompts]

Dubious Headlines | Aemond Short Story (Part 1/3)

Aemond x Reader Modern!AU Masterlist

Synopsis: In a world where Dragon Incorporation is the most powerful firm in town, Rhaenyra Targaryen's last announcement sends you, a journalist, to interview the younger sons of the family. However, you did not ask for any of this.

Viserys Targaryen was sick, and had for many years bequeathed all of his shares in the care of his children. But everybody knew that the Targaryen was a drama family, and that strife was ever present between the different siblings. Lately, the eldest, Rhaenyra, had made an announcement in which she said to intend her branch of the company to take a whole other direction, putting the other branches managed by her brothers and sister in a difficult position.

“Y/N, where are Mathilda and Sam?”

You raised your head from your computer to look at your boss, M. Vander.

“Uh… I don’t know, I have not seen them all morning. Covering the charity event maybe?”

The man looked around desperately, thinking. “Ok then," he decided, eyes darting at you. “In my office please.”

You looked bewildered. You swore that if you he gave more work because Sam and Mathilda had run off again…

“I need you to go to Dragon Incorporation and interview Aegon Tagaryen,” he announced as he sat behind his desk.

You internally cursed. As if you did not have enough work already. “What? Why me? I cover cultural events, I am not…”

“You did hear about Rhaenyra’s announcement right?” he interrupted you.

“Yes, but since when are we interested in gossip, sir?”

“It’s not gossip. It’s gathering impressions on the changes that might have an influence on the citizens of the city. I’m sorry but you are the only one available that is competent enough Y/N.”

Please, anything but this.

“I- I don’t think this is a good idea sir, Mathilda is the one who usually interviews them I-”

“Y/N, I know you will manage perfectly. Take care of this please.”

You deeply inhaled as he dismissed you, nodding and got out of the office.

The reason why you dreaded the interview, except for the fact that it was absolutely not your area of expertise, is that Aegon Targaryen, second son and head of the communication department at Dragon Company, had such a reputation that you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. As a journalist, you were usually one of the firsts to learn what was new in town, and Aegon was definitely in the top 5 of the most scandalous things you had seen. Besides the accusations, the trials, the complaints and the police reports that most of the other agencies tried to hide from the public, he was also clearly a man that just did not care about his actions. He liked doing interviews, though, you had seen a draft of Mathilda’s interview with him once. You could not emphasise enough how much she had to remove in order for it to be decent to be published.

You had called your friend on your way to one of the many locations of Dragon Inc., taking your sweet time.

“I am so gonna kill them. They owe me big on this one, being absent today of all days. I hate them.”

“So you managed to get an appointment with him? With Aegon?”

“Uh…. No, I didn’t, not really. I kinda hope that I would just show up and that he would be absent. This way I won’t have to do it at all!” you sighed as you climbed the stairs that led to the offices floor.

“Y/N…Vander will be mad if he realises that you delayed this on purpose.”

“Trust me, if I am not the one who does the interview, he will have no trouble sending someone else, and be a hundred percent more satisfied with them, a clear win for both of us the way I see it.”

You were on the third floor, near the CEO’s office. As you walked through the corridor, you did not see the man who had just exited the elevator, almost bumping into you. He watched you warily as you continued talking loudly over the phone, not bothered at all if you were heard. Who was that woman?

“You are not that bad at interviews… Just go in there, ask the questions and get out, easy.”

“No it’s not! I’m used to report on cultural events, not… whatever this is! Gods I really don’t want to do this, Mathilda told me awful things about him...”

The man was walking behind you at a safe distance, now amused at your ranting. From what he gathered, you were a reporter. Were you here for his brother?

“Yeah, I read the papers too… Are you there yet?”

You were now before the door on which the shining plate of “Aegon Targaryen, Communication Director” was displayed.

You sighed. “Yeah… I’m standing at the door,” you breathed out, looking at your feet, defeated. “Maybe I could just… invent an interview.” Behind you, the man silently laughed at your unprofessionalism, comfortably leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you talk to the door. He was enjoying this far too much.

“You are stalling again… It will be alright. Hang up, and call me when you’re finished.”

“I guess you’re right, I should just, rip the band aid off. Ok… Talk to you soon.”

You hanged up, nervously fidgeting with your phone and puffed. You were staring at the door, gathering the courage to knock. As seconds passed without you moving a muscle, your silent observer then decided to have a little fun. “Can I help you?”

You jumped, startled at the sudden voice so close to you. Arms crossed over his chest, a man was staring at you, the ghost of what you thought to be a smile on his lips. How long has he been there?!

“Oh god you scared me!” you gasped, clutching your hand over your chest. Then you realised how odd your behaviour must have been. “I’m so sorry I was just… umh.”

He arched a brow, waiting for your response. You cleared your throat nervously.

“I came to see Aegon, Aegon Targaryen. I’m Y/N L/N, journalist at The Westerosi.” you smiled awkwardly before extending your hand to him. He looked at you for a moment before taking your hand.

“Aemond Targaryen,” he said as you shook hands.

Of course. You had recognised him at once, a beautiful lilac eye on one side and another piercing prosthetic blue eye on the other, a chiselled jaw line, silver-haired, and so very tall. There stood Aemond Targaryen, the most mysterious of the Targaryen’s siblings. You knew him to be quite intimidating from the pictures you have seen of him, but you did not expect the effect of seeing him in the flesh would have on your body as you let go of his hand. His whole demeanour screamed power and poise. You tried to control the feeling that crept up from your neck to your stomach. You cleared your throat, his intense gaze on you. You nervously fidgeted with your phone again.

“So is he…” you pointed to the door, “Is he in there?” you asked, your voice unsure.

“Yes.”

Aemond simply crossed his arms again, watching you look at the door like if it was an insurmountable obstacle. You were clearly not a fan of his brother.

“Would you like me to knock for you perhaps?” he asked.

“No no! Thank you, I perfectly know how to knock!” you tried to joke as he raised his brow higher. “I just, uhm…”

But then an idea came to your mind. Aemond was the most secretive of his family, never giving interviews, never appearing at social events as much as the others, and he was just there. You didn’t really know if he was as vile as his brother seemed to be, but you knew that if you brought back an exclusive interview of Aemond Targaryen, your boss would be delighted, and might even overlook the fact that you had been… unable to talk to Aegon. You had to take your chance. You turned around to face him.

“Actually, do you have a moment? I am gathering information on the recent changes that occurred in your company. Would you mind answering a few questions…?”

That is an interesting turn of events.

He seemed to pounder the proposition for a moment, and you were certain that he would throw you off, that you had overstepped.

“Very well,” he stated, his face letting nothing appear as you widened your eyes in disbelief. “What do you drink?”

You were so taken aback that you forgot to speak properly.

“Dr-d-” you stammered, “What do I drink?” you repeated.

“Yes. Coffee? Tea? I can have you brought anything you want.”

This man was unsettling. You had to put yourself together. “Uh... no, thank you. I’m fine.”

“Mh.”

His eye was scanning you, and you couldn’t help but fidget on the spot, clearing your throat as you felt naked under his gaze.

“We will be more comfortable in my office. This way.”

Without a glance back at the door you had almost walked in, you followed him to another corridor, and inside a luxurious office. He sat behind his desk, tapped something on his phone and invited you to sit. You did as ordered, thanking him and taking out your pad containing the questions meant for Aegon.

You tried not to be disturbed by the unfaltering stare the second Targaryen son was giving you as you asked question after question. You had quickly rephrased some of them to be more suited for him instead of Aegon, and you thought that it was playing out quite nicely for an unintended interview.

He listened to you attentively, answering each of your questions as concisely as possible, and you could not be anything but impressed by how eloquent he was. You considered it a shame that his family did not use him more in public.

At one point, a beautiful woman that you gathered to be his assistant, entered the room, carrying a hot cup of coffee in hand. Her presence made you stop as she lowered herself to put the cup down next to Aemond, her low cleavage making you regret the fact that you had not taken off your blazer. He thanked her and as she left, her eyes looked at you from head to toe with a sufficient smile before walking her heels to the door and closing it, but not before giving the brightest smile you have ever seen to Aemond. You guessed that being this handsome and rich might have that effect.

He seemed unfazed though as he took a sip of his coffee nonchalantly. You could not help but stare at his throat as he drank the hot liquid, his Adam’s apple slightly pulsating at the movement. You were forced to clear your throat again, snapping out of your trance as he put down the cup.

“So, how would you describe your sister, Rhaenyra, in simple words? How do you see her as a member of your family and as an eminent member of your firm?”

He let your question hang in the air for quite some time, before biting the inside of his cheek and sitting back on his chair. He clearly did not like this one.

“Next question,” he deadpanned.

“I’m sorry?”

“I don’t like that question, so next please.”

You dropped down the pen that was ready to write to look at him with surprise. “You do realise that this interview is about the subdivision of the company, started by your sister.”

“Half-sister. And I understand perfectly. Please continue.”

You hold his gaze for a moment, unsure.

Very well then. “Have you ever considered, as head of the financial branch, to invest in other areas than the one you are currently involved with? Have you ever thought of sponsoring events or… celebrities for instance?”

As he answered your question, relieved that he did not seem crossed by the previous one in any way, you could not help but notice the way he licked his lips as he took another sip of coffee, his tongue slightly peaking out. At this moment, you had completely lost track of what he was saying, and by the time he had finished talking, you internally congratulated yourself for recording the interview on your phone. How very professional of you.

It seemed that your temporary distraction had you more disturbed than you thought as you saw the next question originally written for Aegon on your pad: How does the fact that you work in the same company as your wife influence you r decisions?

This was obviously not a question suited for the man sitting across from you, so you took a moment to try and adapt it to him, but it seemed that you were incapable of coherent thoughts right now.

“Are you involved with anyone?”

The question had left your lips faster than your brain could think. Not that you apparently owned a brain right now by the look of it. You cursed yourself. Big mistake.

You could see how the question had caught him off guard as you blushed and fiddled with your pad, apologising profusely at once.

“I’m so sorry, don’t mind the last one, it was meant for your brother…!” you stammered before realising that it sounded worse. You quickly found the next question, your body heating up.“Where do you see the company in ten years time?”

He had taken a bit more time to answer this one, watching how flustered you were and how your cheeks had reddened, making your skin so appealing to him that he could have sworn that he felt its warmth from this distance. Your nerves were all over the place, but it calmed down as the interview came to an end, taking control of your body again. You thanked him and stood up to shake his hand, promising him to keep him updated.

“Thank you very much for your time, M. Targaryen. I will take your secretary number and notify you when the article will be published.”

He left his place from behind his desk in order to accompany you to the door as you retrieved your coat, bringing with him the sweet scent of sandalwood and coffee. You had to get out of here.

“I look forward to reading it. When you see my brother, please tell him I said to behave.”

Oh. Aegon. It had completely escaped your mind. You undoubtedly felt like you had no obligation at all to go see him now, having obtained the interview of his quite private brother… But you could not tell him that. Instead you just nodded, hoping that he would not accompany you to his brother’s office.

“I will. Although I don’t think I will need anything more from him. I feel like I have everything I need,” you said, tapping on your pad.

“That is a relief. This way you won’t have to… invent an interview. I’m sure your skill lies elsewhere.”

You blushed at this, realising that Aemond had heard a good part of your conversation on the phone. You did not move as he stared at you quite pleased at your reaction.

“I would never… I mean, it was only a joke,” you tried. “I take my job very seriously. It’s just that I am more used to deal with people from other backgrounds.”

“Mh,” he nodded, reaching for the doorknob behind you. You exhaled in relief, the prospect of freedom one move away, but he paused again and did not open the door right away.

“By the way, the answer is no.”

You turned your head to him, almost bumping into his chest. “I’m sorry?”

“No, I am not involved with anyone at the moment.”

You tried to recall when in your life you had been as short of breath as you were now, stuck between the door and the man whose gaze made you feel like the weakest thing on earth. You tried to reply but nothing came, and as you bit your lips in anxiousness you tried not to notice how his eye had quickly lowered to the movement.

He only smirked and opened the door, stepping aside to allow you space. You swallowed as you quickly passed him, hands clutching at your coat in tension.

“Have a good day Miss L/N.”

And then he closed the door, leaving you to face the pretty assistant studying you from behind her desk, clearly annoyed at you, for whatever reason. You rapidly took the contact you needed from her and exited the building, welcoming the fresh air and grabbing your phone, calling your boss right away. Your lungs were on fire.

“Is it done?”

“Well, not exactly. I managed to have much better.” You were overselling it, but it was a miss or hit situation.

“What did you do Y/N?”

“I had obtained a meeting with the one and only Aemond Targaryen! He answered all of the questions on the subdivision, and even managed to get the intel you could not have if it had been with Aegon. This is good for us! You know he rarely gives any interviews.”

You were met with silence.

“Y/N…”

“Listen, I promise you to do the best article I have ever written on Dragon Inc. You will not be disappointed, I swear. Give me a chance Vander.”

“Y/N, how do you think Aegon Targaryen will react if he learns that he had not been consulted first?”

“Do we… really care about that, sir?” you asked, slightly appalled as you considered it.

“He is the main correspondent with our newspaper. Mathilda has always gone to him when we needed insight on Dragon Inc!”

You swallowed. This would not stop you, you had to make it work.

“All due respect sir, if you wanted that kind of interview, you should have sent her, not me. I managed to have an exclusive one and I believe in what I have gathered. You should too.”

Your boss went silent again, and as you saw this as a good sign, that we would be considering it at least, you continued.

“I will send you a draft tonight, and I’ll prove to you that this paper is worth publishing. I can assure you that Aemond’s Targaryen’s insight will raise the reader's interest much more than Aegon’s.”

Some more seconds of silence.

“Very well. I don’t like this, but I trust you Y/N, you have rarely disappointed me. I expect it before tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Then you quickly texted your friend, summarising your encounter with the one-eyed Targaryen before you jumped in a taxi and went home, reading over your notes.

Yep. Aemond Targaryen would not leave your mind any time soon.

Your boss had been happy with the draft, and now you were at your desk, writing the actual article. You had taken your time in scolding Mathilda and Sam, blaming them for forcing you to take on a task you knew would not have you so riled up, but your friends had only sympathised with you, and you had not been able to stay mad at them for long.

By noon the article was finished, and you had to wait for tomorrow’s paper for it to be published. You had managed to progress on your other projects in the meantime, but now it was dark outside and you were the only one left in the office. Again.

The piece of paper next to your keyboard with Aemond Targaryen’s contact information, was now becoming more and more difficult to ignore as you were soon to go home. All day you had glanced at it, hesitating between sending your completed interview to him now or waiting for him to discover it with everyone else in the morning.

Taking a deep breath, you finally took the piece of paper, typed the e-mail address and attached your article to it before thinking of something personal to write.

Nothing came as you simply wrote the most formal of e-mails, giving him the time of publication and thanking him again. As you pressed send, you sat back into your chair and stared at the screen as your mind began to imagine him receiving your e-mail, how his brows would knit together while his eye would dart over the lines you had written.

Shaking your head, you cursed yourself for losing yourself in such thoughts before shutting your computer down. You needed sleep.

Aemond Targaryen had looked your name up as soon as you had departed from his office, curious to know more about the woman who had forsaken his brother and dared ask an interview of him, Aemond Targaryen, of all people.

He stared at the screen with interest as he browsed The Westerosi ’s archives online, seeing the several articles you had written over the years, mostly about city events or local cultural activities, smiling each time he read your comments about this or that particular representation. Now he was having dinner with his family, listening to his mother’s complaints about his eldest sister again, when he felt his phone vibrate. He could not ignore the satisfaction he felt when your name appeared on the screen next to an e-mail, and wasted no time reading what you had sent him. You had done a good job, he liked that you remained factual in your writing, and he could not help the disappointment he felt when he saw the few lines you had written to thank him in your message. As he put down his phone again, he remembered how you never seemed to miss anything that happened in the city. He counted on that.

-0- Part 2

A/N: Any resemblance to a particular book/movie was unintended, I realised it afterwards. (Oops)

[wrenreid]

Off Limits

contains: sexual intercourse

Part Twenty-Six

Being left in bed naked and alone was not exactly how I pictured my first time to end, but I know it wasn’t personal. He left because he had to. Because my father might take his glock out and act irrationally if he sees his favorite agent with his only daughter. I’m not saying he’d actually shoot Spencer, but he might scare the piss out of him.

My father gets home just as I slip back into bed dressed in pjs. He doesn’t say goodnight because it’s late, and I’m sure he assumes I’m asleep.

I would be asleep. Should be. But I can’t even think to rest my eyes. I’m not one to think that first kisses and first times are that big of deal. It’s not like having sex is a life altering event. And I most definitely do not feel like a whole new person.

Books and movies make it seem like a huge deal. But it’s really not. However, I do think this will change our relationship a bit. Hopefully bring us closer. Honestly, I’m really not sure what will change between us.

I do know one thing. I’m officially his girlfriend. He’s officially my boyfriend. We’re official. Which feels good. After years of crushing on him and months of sneaking around and having fun with him, we’re finally together.

I know I said fuck it if she’s off limits, but goddamn do I feel guilty. I hate feeling guilty. I’m sick of it actually. No one should feel guilty about dating anyone. But I can’t help it. It’s wired into my subconscious.

Jade is finally my girlfriend. We had a great night together. I should be happy. Well, I am happy but I’m also feeling guilty and a little dumb.

Of course I didn’t have sex with her just to spite her father, but he did have something to do with it. They all did. They pushed me a little too far and I finally caved in to what I’ve been resisting. But I wanted it, I’ve wanted it for a while, so it’s not like their teasing was my only reason for sleeping with her.

Just as I’m about to text her the next morning, I get a call from Hotch saying we need to go to Quantico for another case. I was hoping to see Jade today since we didn’t get to talk after we had sex. But I guess that’s out the window. I grab my pre-packed go bag after getting dressed then head to work.

(skipping time because goddamn i am bored with this story… sorry)

The sneaking around that once stressed the hell out of me has kind of become fun. I mean there’s a type of thrill that comes with dating your boss’s “off limits” daughter.

Jade and I have had a fun few weeks. We’ve connected more, spent as much time together as we can, and have honestly had a lot of sex.

We’re both still getting used to our new relationship, but we’re in it together.

I spend the night with Spencer as often as I can without my dad getting suspicious. He thinks I’m either with a friend, at a party, or whatever other minuscule lie I tell him.

The lying and sneaking around is fun. I’m finally getting the experience I never had in high school. I would obviously love if I could date Spencer and not have to lie about it, but the secrecy of it all is thrilling.

It makes the sex just hotter.

After having sex on the couch, then moving it to his bedroom for more space, Spencer and I lay on the mattress together. Our hands intertwine, fiddling with our fingers.

“Want to know something a little ironic?” I ask him as his thumb rubs across the back of my hand.

Spencer shifts a bit to face me. “What’s that?”

“In 7th grade health class, us girls were all given purity rings, misogynistic, I know. I think I still have mine.”

“Give it to me.” As he says this, something in his face changes.

“What?” I question, a slight chuckle releasing from my lips.

“It’s technically mine now. It only seems accurate and fair for me to have it.”

I laugh a little once again, my cheeks burning pinker than they ever have. He’s dead serious. Something about the look in his dark eyes makes me want to go for round two right now.

I think he has the same idea. Spencer leans in, his lips kissing mine. I kiss him back immediately, my tongue sliding in his mouth. As we kiss, his hand slides down my body and he slips a finger between my folds to touch my already sensitive clit.

“You’re still wet,” he says. “Good girl.”

I moan into his mouth, moving my hips back and forth as I ride his fingers. His lips find their place on his neck and tits, sucking on the places he’s already left his mark on. It stings a little, but the pain feels good.

“God, Spencer,” I whine as he sinks his teeth into my flesh, not enough to damage my skin but enough to hurt a bit.

I beg him to touch me harder and faster, and he obliges, fingering me as I moan into his ears.

After a minute, I’m so needy that I take matters into my own hands. I sit up then place myself onto his lap, guiding his dick inside me with my hand. I roll my hips back and forth, watching his face as I ride him.

“Holy fuck,” he whines. “You’re so hot, baby.”

The way his length hits inside me as I bounce on him has me louder than I’ve ever been. He lifts one of his hands up to quiet me so his neighbors don’t hear. I personally, don’t care if they hear us. I want them to know how good he feels and wish they could feel this way.

He releases his hand after a while, holding my hips and occasionally slapping my ass while I ride him. He bucks his hips upward to meet mine, making his dick hit inside me harder.

“Fuck,” I moan, dragging out the word.

He’s moaning louder than usual too. My hands that were scratching down his chest land on his throat, choking him.

“Is this okay?” I ask.

He’s done it to me before but I haven’t done it to him while we’ve fucked.

“Very,” he nods.

As I finish, I bite into his shoulder, quieting my moan of his name. He finishes not long after me.

The next morning, Jade comes into the bullpen, she’s walking toward me. everyone’s looking. My face is red already, and she hasn’t done anything. I have no idea what she’s doing.

“My dad told me to give this to you,” she says, handing me an envelope. She smiles sweetly then turns toward the elevators.

She was bringing her father lunch and was in his office for a bit, eating with him as he worked.

I let out a soft, relieved breath. I open the letter. There’s a paper, and written on it in neat handwriting is “I think this belongs to you.” Taped to the paper is a small, silver ring with the word “promise” on it. I’m definitely blushing hard and trying to suppress a smile.

“You getting fired, reid?” Morgan teases.

“Totally,” I joke casually, my mind far away from Morgan’s question.

I slip the ring in my pocket before folding up the note and safely putting it away in my desk.

I think that little word engraved on the inside of the ring has a new meaning now.

tags: @pauline5525mgg @theintimatewriter @lilibet261 @greysviolets @jazzymariexoxoc @one-sweet-gubler @thatsonezesty13 @necromaniackat @awhoreforspencerreid @sebs-oxygen @scarredelirium @bts-sugaplum @awesomeness1679 @preciousbabypeter @yazzyu @cynbx @r3idsp3ncer @1010lizz @tiredbut-here @skulzombiw @lena-1895 @eevee0722 @shakespear-picaso-lovechild @daydreamingqueen1 @regulus-black-223048 @virginmusicloverr36 @jazzerbelle14 @kylakins88 @f-me-reid @lovejules888 @marimorena06 @daph-421 @idkusername8787

[farenmaddox]

Fic: It's a Living

Fandom: Supernatural Pairing: Dean/Cas Rating: Teen and up Summary: Set in the "It's a Terrible Life" (4.17) universe, but with no monsters/angels/ghosts. Dean is a high-powered director at his company, and a clueless 26-year-old sugar daddy. Castiel is the down-on-his-luck DILF/single dad/aspiring sugar baby who has no idea what's going on except that this sad man who needs therapy is throwing money at him. Chapter 2 / ?: Everybody’s looking for something Excerpt from chapter two:

“Dean, I…” “You have to go,” Dean said crisply, wiping the corners of his mouth with a napkin and standing up. “I’m terribly sorry. I really am. I didn’t mean to interrupt what you wanted to speak with me about, and I promise that we’ll discuss it next week.” Castiel was already halfway to the door when Dean’s hand fell on his shoulder and stopped him. “I really need to get home, my child is sick.” Dean took a deep breath. “I’m going out of town. My boss is sending me to Pennsylvania for some meetings.” “Oh.” “I won’t be here next week, is what I wanted to tell you. And to ask you for your phone number,” he said, pushing his cell into Castiel’s hands with a “new contact” entry already on the screen. Impatient, Castiel punched in his phone number. “Awesome. I’ll, um, I’ll see you,” Dean said. Then he seemed to startle, and reached into his pocket and took out his wallet. “Oh, you don’t— I’ve been here for ten minutes,” Castiel tried to argue. Dean pushed some money into his hand while blushing furiously. “I know, it’s, well, just answer the phone if I call you, okay?” Castiel blinked at him, then touched Dean’s shoulder right back and tried to conjure up a smile. “Okay. Safe travels, Dean. I hope you’ll be back soon.” Dean just stood there like he was stunned while Castiel walked away. It honestly made his heart ache that such a casual touch could affect Dean so much, but it boded well for his ability to keep taking advantage of Dean a little longer. He wasn’t crass enough to count the money on the way to the car, just shoved it into his pocket. He had to peel a few bills off when he got home, to pay the babysitter for the full amount she should have earned for staying till nine-thirty, which was when he discovered that it was two thousand dollars. Yes, Dean had definitely been about to ask him for sex. He’d worry about that later.

Read the rest on AO3

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Heart. Sick. (m, cold)

clearly the clicky clacky keyboard helped my writers block because here I am, back to churning out a 5k fic in one day lmao. this is a Greyson-centric one, and tbh it's a lot of exposition, and a lot of character development. but don't worry - Greyson is plenty miserable throughout 😅 I hope you guys like these ones that are a little more plot-driven! I honestly set out to write fluff but it wanted to be a drama fest. classic. enjoy!

Cw: male, cold, some mess, coughing, sick character galavanting about instead of just going to bed, implied contagion

“What is your problem today?”

Greyson’s head snapped up at the sound of his boss’s voice. He raised an eyebrow and put down his knife; this seemed like the kind of conversation that required his full attention. “What?” he asked, brilliantly.

Elijah crossed his arms. He had been leaning against the prep table, but straightened up to his full height when the chef regarded him. “You’ve been here for an hour and you haven’t even stopped in the office to say hi,” he said. Did he hear how lame and codependent he sounded? Yes. But that was their friendship – lame, codependent, and most of all consistent. Greyson always made the office his first stop when he got in; they checked in with one another, mapped out the day, traded stories from the night before if one of them had been off. Not having his morning gossip session with Greyson made Elijah feel like he was living in a weird, wrong, nega-dimension, and he didn’t want that to become a thing.

The chef huffed out a laugh. “Seriously?” he asked, picking his knife back up. “I have a lot of shit to do today, Lij,” he said. “Matt called out.”

“Oh,” Elijah said, immediately feeling stupid. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I am telling you,” Greyson said, looking pointedly up at his boss. “Right now.”

Elijah bit his tongue; this was exactly what he meant. Greyson wasn’t himself today. Matt calling out was obviously stressful, but the chef never let things like that make him angry, or short, or snippy. Something was definitely off – he didn’t know what, but it was definitely something.

“Did he say why?” Elijah asked as Greyson continued to chop. Greyson stopped short again and looked back up.

“Why what?”

“Why he called out.”

“Who?”

“Jesus Christ, Greyson,” Elijah threw his hands in the air. “Did you smoke a bowl the second before you walked in today? Matt. Did Matt say why he was calling out?”

“Oh,” Greyson said, turning once again to his prep work. “Yeah, some sort of flu thing. I said if he has a fever he can’t come in.”

Ah. There it was.

Greyson and Matt were what everyone in the restaurant affectionately called the plague rats – that is to say, they were the ones who brought any illness that was roaming around New York City into the restaurant, ad infinitum. They were the partiers, the club kids (though Greyson, at thirty-one should have reached the end of his club kid stage years ago), the chronic sleepers-around, and the past few months, it had gone from going out a couple times a week, to going out every single night. Hardly a month went by that the two of them weren’t complaining of a sore throat, a cold sore, a stomach bug that they’d been gifted by one of their many nights out.

And, of course, they never went out partying without one another.

“Did he seem okay last night when you guys went out?” Elijah asked, the question so pointed it may as well have been an accusation. Greyson shrugged, covered up the last of the prepped vegetables with plastic wrap, and slid them into the reach-in cooler below the prep station.

“Maybe a little off,” Greyson said. “He didn’t mention anything.”

“What time did you guys leave?” Elijah asked. Greyson gave his boss an incredulous look.

“What are you, a cop? I don’t know, mom, one or two? What difference does it make?”

Elijah recoiled a bit at the chef’s snappiness. “Christ, sorry, just trying to suss out whether he’s actually sick or just hungover.”

“Who gives a fuck?” Greyson asked, pushing his hair back into a small ponytail and tying it with a rubber band Elijah knew came from a package of asparagus. “He’s not coming in, that’s all we really need to know, right? Are we gonna track him down and fire him if he’s hungover?”

“You are on one today,” Elijah said. “No, we’re not going to fucking track him down, Jesus Christ.” This time, Elijah went for an honesty-is-the-best-policy approach. “I’m trying to figure out if you’re in a mood because you have extra work to do, or because you feel like shit.”

Greyson rolled his eyes and breezed past Elijah. He yanked open the walk-in and stepped inside, his boss hot on his trail. The chef grabbed two heads of cauliflower and a few bunches of radishes and nearly jumped out of his skin when he turned to see Elijah practically on top of him. “Stop following me,” he growled, pushing past Elijah again.

“Greyson,” Elijah said to the rapidly-closing walk-in door. He pressed the red button to let himself out, and once again tailed the chef to the prep table. “Greyson, I just want to know if you’re alright,” Elijah said, keeping a healthy distance. Greyson took a deep breath and put down his knife.

“I am fine. Matt will be back tomorrow. Please, let me do my work. Ple – hh...hhNGSTHH-uhh!” Greyson crushed the sudden sneeze into his shoulder, picked up his knife, and continued his work, not acknowledging it at all. Elijah bit his cheek.

“Bless you,” the older man said, accusatory.

“Elijah,” Greyson said, not looking up, “leave me alone.”

Elijah nodded, not that Greyson could see it while he chopped. The GM turned, walked back to the office, and pulled out his phone to text Matt.

Hey, he typed into their chat. Heard you’re sick, hope you’re getting some rest.

Thx boss, Matt typed back almost-instantly. Should be good by tomorrow.

Elijah paused before sending his next text, but then did it before he could question himself too much. Just wanted to ask...was grey acting weird with you last night? He’s totally on one today.

It took a minute or two for Matt to text back – the three bubbles popped up and went away at least three times, as though Matt was trying to figure out what to say but kept second-guessing. Finally, the text came through.

Wait, is chef there today? He told me he was going to call shelly in.

Elijah cocked his head at the phone screen; Shelly, the sous chef Greyson had brought on a month ago, was scheduled off today. Why would he call her in?

No, it’s just greyson today. Why would he call shelly in?

This time, it took Matt no time to respond.

That asshole, he said he was going to take the day off.

I’m lost, Matt. Why would he take the day off…?

Another minute of bubbles popping up and going away ensued. When the text did come through, Elijah felt his face flame. That motherfucker, he thought, slamming his phone down, screen-up on the desk and stalking back to the prep kitchen.

On his open phone, the text from Matt: he gave me this shit. We literally went and had one drink, then he said he had to go bc he felt like trash. Fuckin greyson.

Fuckin’ Greyson. That was for damn sure.

***

He knew he was coming down with something on Monday, but it was one of those excruciatingly slow-to-come-on illnesses that made you wonder if you were actually just crazy, and this whole thing was in your head. A sneeze here, a rogue cough, the sore throat that came and went with several long drinks of water – for three days, Greyson gaslit himself, told himself he was imagining it, took Emergen-C and chalked it up to allergies.

“Morning, boss,” Matt had greeted him.

By the time Thursday – yesterday – had come around, it finally hit him properly. Greyson woke up with a heavy feeling in his chest, his head throbbing, and a lump in his throat to match the one in his stomach. He sighed as he got ready, loaded up on dayquil, and headed into work.

Greyson had returned the greeting with a rough, “HNGSTHH-ue!” and a sharp sniffle. Matt winced as his boss unpacked his knife bag.

“Yikes,” he said, “I guess that girl from the bar last night wasn’t just doing a lot of coke, then?”

“More like the guy I stayed the night with on Saturday didn’t just have a naturally deep and husky voice,” Greyson said, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. “It’s the world’s slowest-to-come-on cold, I swear. I’ve been almost sick since Monday.” He coughed into his sleeve for what felt like a long moment, came up to see a water bottle placed in front of him. “Thanks.”

“No worries,” Matt said. “That makes sense, though,” he continued, “because I can definitely feel it coming on. Thought maybe it was allergies.”

“Sorry, kid,” Greyson said. “We’ll get you outta here early.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “If you’re here, I’m here, boss,” he said. The two of them had prepped in near-silence for awhile, before Greyson seemed to realize something was off.

“Has Elijah come back here yet this morning?” he asked, and Matt shook his head.

“Isn’t he off today? I think Mark said he had some sort of appointment.”

Greyson flashed Matt a little look and the sous chef blushed – Matt and Mark were very recently a thing, a fact that was clear to everyone in the restaurant and that the two of them were attempting to hide, as if any fling that took place within the confines of these walls was anything other than obvious. Greyson figured now wasn’t the time to bully his muse.

“Thank god he’s not here,” he said instead. “Elijah, I mean. I’m so sick of him giving me shit every time I have a stuffy no – NGTSHH-uh! Hh...HTSHH-ue! Fuck.” Greyson slunk away from his prep area to blow his nose, cough again, and wash his hands.

“Bless,” Matt said when Greyson made his way back to his station. “To be fair to Elijah -”

“No,” Greyson stopped Matt by holding up a hand. “We’re not talking about this.”

“I was just going to say, I mean, you have been out a lot since the whole… breakup situation.” The way Matt trailed off made it obvious that he immediately regretted bringing this up. Greyson sniffled, stayed silent for a few moments, and then sighed.

“You're one to talk. And besides, I don’t know how it’s my fault that every club in a five-mile-radius is a cesspool,” Greyson muttered, a lame attempt at a joke. Matt took the bait and huffed out a laugh.

“I don’t think Elijah blames you for the general grossness that is the midtown club scene,” he said. “I think he’s just worried about you.”

Greyson wasn’t so sure. Maybe it had started as worry; worrying was one of Elijah’s greatest passions, after all. But it had been six months since Greyson and Collin had broken up, and in that time worry had turned to annoyance, which had led to what felt like resentment. A month before, Greyson had been laid up with strep throat, thanks to a girl who he swore was trying to steal his tonsils with how deep she shoved her tongue into his mouth, and Elijah didn’t even try to hide his distaste.

“Seriously, Grey?” he had asked when the chef stumbled into the restaurant sweating, shivering, and unable to speak. “Who over the age of twelve gets strep throat? What’s next, mono? Chicken pox? Run the gambit of diseases kids get from putting their hands in too many people’s mouths?”

Greyson knew it was stupid to go out drinking and partying every night; he knew he was too old, knew it was irresponsible, he knew he should be processing the breakup instead of drowning every feeling he had about it in booze and sex. He knew. But he just couldn’t do it. Collin was the first person he’d ever really loved; getting over the coldness with which his first love threw in the towel that was their relationship was easier said than done.

He certainly wasn’t going to tell Elijah of all people that. He loved the man; Elijah was his best friend, his business partner, the guy he called first when something amazing or devastating happened, but this was not his strong suit. Elijah was basically a nun when it came to all things partying; he prided himself on never having more than two drinks when they went out, never sleeping around, and being married to the restaurant. Greyson loved Elijah, but he knew that the GM just wouldn’t get it.

So, the reprieve from being harassed about his near-constant menagerie of illnesses was a welcome one. He and Matt had prepped, passing a box of tissues between them the entire time, they’d gotten through a relatively slow service and, like every night the past few months, they’d ended the evening at a bar a few blocks from Elliot’s.

Greyson wanted to want to be there, truly he did, but he didn’t have it in him. Maybe it was the thought of being the only chef in the next day – Matt was well and truly coming down with the cold Greyson had come in with – or maybe it was just that the constant barrage of illnesses was starting to wear on his body, but the thought of staying awake for another minute, let alone another few hours, made Greyson’s head pound.

“I’m gonna call it,” Greyson said, shooting back his whiskey and placing a twenty on the bar top. “Take the day tomorrow, alright?”

Matt raised an eyebrow. “What about you?” he asked, coughing into the back of his hand. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks,” Greyson said, elbowing Matt playfully. “I’ll call Shelly in, okay? I’ll take the day, too.” It was a lie; Shelly wasn’t ready for the responsibility of running a Friday night, not even a slow one, but if it made Matt take a day off, it was worth it to lie.

“Alright,” Matt said, wary. “Well, have a good night, Chef. Feel better.”

“Same to you,” Greyson said. “Tell Mark I said night-night. Give him a little kiss for me, too.”

Matt’s face turned bright red. By the time he’d collected himself enough to respond, his boss was gone.

***

“Greyson!”

Elijah stomped his way through the kitchen, on the hunt. He reached the back kitchen before Greyson could hear him, and the chef was blowing his nose into a rough paper towel looking caught, like a deer in the headlights.

“You fuckin’ asshole,” Elijah said, “why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

“I’m not sick,” Greyson said, sniffling and tossing the paper towel. His eyes, Elijah noticed now, were rimmed red, and his voice was low and gravelly. “It’s allergies.”

“Right,” Elijah rolled his eyes. “Contagious allergies? Allergies you passed along to Matt? For Christ’s sake, Greyson, I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you lately, but you need to get it together. If Matt’s sick, that means Mark is going to get sick, then my entire front of house team gets it. What do you think you are, twenty-three years old? You can’t go out every single night and sleep around with anything that has a hole and also have an eighty-hour-a-week job. You’re not a kid, Greyson. This behavior? It’s childish. And I’m fuckin’ sick of it.”

Greyson stood there and took it, his mouth in a hard line. “Okay,” he said after a beat.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” he repeated. “You’re right. I’ll – hh! HhhIGSTZH-ue! Huh! HuhhESTCHZUE!” The chef sneezed painfully into his elbow, cleared his throat, and righted himself. “I’ll stop. It’s childish. Okay?” his voice was nasal, hoarse, and tight, as though he was on the verge of tears. All the fight Elijah had brought to the back kitchen was rung out of him like a washcloth at the end of a long bath.

“Um,” he said, “okay. Good. Now, go home. I’ll call in Shelly, I’m closing the books, it’ll be an easy night. Go rest so you can be good for the weekend.”

The chef just nodded, not making eye contact. “Heard,” he said, packing up his things. He didn’t beg to stay, didn’t insist that he was fine. He just picked up his bag, nodded at Elijah, and said, “See you tomorrow.”

Elijah was so in shock, he didn’t even respond until Greyson was out the door. “Yeah,” he mumbled, blinking. “See you tomorrow.”

***

The pulse of the music thumped in time with Greyson’s headache; it was oddly soothing, if a little disconcerting how in tune the two were.

“I’ll take andother,” he called to the bartender as loudly as he could muster. The bartender nodded, brought the bottle over, and topped him off, smiling seductively all the while.

“This one’s on the house, love,” he said in a faint British accent that Greyson couldn’t decide was real or fake. “What’s your name?”

“You’re very cute,” Greyson slurred, all levity out the window three drinks ago. “But I’mb sick as a dog, and I’mb ndot trying to pass it around any mbore than I already have.”

The bartender laughed. “This job is worse than a daycare when it comes to germs,” he said over the thrum of the crowd and the bass of the music. “Pretty sure I’m immune to just about everything at this point.”

Greyson let a sloppy smile paint his face. “Mbust be ndice,” he said, taking a swallow of his drink, then turning to his elbow to cough. “I work in a kitchend, it’s just about as bad but I haven’t seemed to gain any immu – immu...huh...hhINGTZHH-ue! HTSHH-ue! HRSHH-ue!” Greyson pulled his white tshirt over his nose and mouth and ducked almost completely under the bar to sneeze. He swore under his breath, sucked in through his nose, and sat himself upright once again. The bartender tutted in sympathy.

“Poor thing,” he said, smiling slyly. “You should be in bed.”

He wasn’t wrong; after Elijah’s blowup, Greyson had certainly thought about doing the right thing, going home, crawling into bed and actually attempting to get better. It had only been noon when he left the restaurant, and if he didn’t have to be in til noon the next day, that was almost a full twenty-four hours that he could spend doing nothing except relaxing, resting… being alone with his thoughts…

Yeah, that wasn’t about to happen.

Instead, Greyson had walked forty blocks to Greenwich and had lunch at one of his favorite spots. He’d moved on to a coffee shop from there, writing in his little black notebook recipes that he wanted to try out at Elliot’s. After that, he’d stopped into a CVS and bought them out of dayquil; three or four swigs later, and he was on his phone rapidly texting anyone he’d slept with in the past two months to see if they wanted to hang out. They did not.

The failed attempts at a hookup sent him into a darker place than he’d like to admit, so Greyson decided four pm was late enough to start drinking, and he took a cab back to midtown to begin his nightly spiral. The bar with the cute bartender was stop number four of the evening; at stop two, the dayquil had worn off. By stop three, he was coughing every time he took too deep of a breath. This was the stop where he’d given up the facade of health and just allowed himself to be the grossest person at the bar – much to everyone but this bartender’s chagrin.

“Yeah,” he said to the bartender, “you’re probably right.”

The bartender winked and turned back to the other bar patrons, leaving Greyson to sit foggy-headed and cold, alone with his whiskey. He looked at the clock on his phone – 11:45PM. The restaurant was probably empty by now. He wondered if Elijah was still there, finishing up paperwork; he thought about texting him, then remembered the blowup again. Greyson put his phone away, pulled a fifty out of his wallet, and ducked out of the bar.

It was cold outside; it was barely September, but Greyson could definitely feel that fall was in the air. He didn’t realize until now that he’d forgotten his jacket at work. Fuck.

Greyson shoved his hands into his pockets, shivering – there was no way he was going to make it back to his apartment without a jacket. The chef looked up at the street signs and realized he was only a block or two from the restaurant. Fuck it, he thought, sneezing into his exposed elbow. I’m getting that jacket.

***

It had been a long shift.

Shelly was great, really – she was just young, and a little bit scared of the enormity of running a restaurant. Elijah had figured that out at about seven pm, when she was nearly in tears with just six tickets on the board. But they had gotten through it, with Elijah taking over expo and Shelly running inside middle. It was fine. Long? Yes. But fine.

At eleven, the restaurant had emptied and with it went the servers, cooks, and junior managers. Elijah finished up his paperwork, locked the front door, set the alarm, and sat down at the empty bar with a glass of whiskey – just him, the thrum of the heater, and the restaurant.

When he was feeling really low, Elijah would spend hours like this; just sitting at his bar, looking out into the dining room, reeling in what he had created. This space was his, a place that he had spent his entire life clawing upwards for, despite the drone of older restaurateurs telling him he was too young, or too poor, or too talentless to own his own place. Elijah hadn’t grown up with money, or support, or any kind of nepotism that would have propelled him into this field, but he’d grown up with something most people hadn’t – drive. Passion. An absolute need to succeed, despite it all. Sometimes he needed to remind himself of that.

He knew that no one could really understand his reasons for being as anal as he was about everything in the restaurant – not even Greyson, though his counterpart came close. Often, Elijah felt like he spent his life explaining himself; explaining why he wasn’t married or even dating at thirty-nine, explaining why things had to be done a certain way so that appliances and tables and chairs and glassware and plates would last as long as humanly possible; explaining why people should care about his restaurant, his vision. Sometimes, Elijah wished he didn’t have this fire inside him. This passion for his work. He knew damn well his life would be easier if he didn’t.

Elijah looked at his phone as midnight approached, thinking about the day, thinking about Greyson. He wished things had gone down differently this morning, but he know Greyson could be like a kid when it came to arguments – quick to forgive, quick to forget. Sometimes that made Elijah feel even worse; he wished the other man would scream back at him, give in to his baser desires like Elijah was so wont to do when it came to arguing. Greyson saved those more carnal instincts for after work, Elijah supposed.

It would be worked out by tomorrow, whether Elijah wanted it to or not. He sighed, drained his glass, and went to turn off the lights behind the bar – when the alarm began blaring.

Elijah froze in his tracks. Who the fuck was breaking into the restaurant?

The GM burst through the doors to the kitchen and ran towards the back, absolutely nothing to defend him in his hands. If he was defending his restaurant, he was doing so with his bare hands; he’d figuratively clawed his way up to this position, he would certainly literally claw someone’s eyes out if they attempted to take it from him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Elijah heard someone at the back door before he saw them. He slowed his pace when he heard the voice. Greyson.

“Grey?” Elijah called, turning the corner and seeing the chef clumsily attempting to turn the alarm off. Greyson was wearing just a tshirt and jeans despite it being near-freezing outside, and the way he was fumbling with the alarm system meant he was almost certainly wasted. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Greyson turned to his boss and smiled, lopsided. He looked like shit; he was as pale as his shirt, his nose was bright red and running so much that he had taken to swiping a hand under it every few seconds, and Elijah could hear the wheeze in every breath he took. “Oh, thangk God,” he said, moving out of the way so Elijah could turn the alarm system off. “I thought if that back was opend, I could just sneak in. To grab mby jacket.” Greyson coughed away from Elijah, an angry, productive sound that made the GM flinch. “Sorry,” Greyson said. “It’s cold outside.”

“I’m well aware,” Elijah said, turning away from the now-silent alarm. “What are you doing out? You’re supposed to be at home. Getting better. Remember, I sent you home twelve hours ago? What have you been doing, out partying? You’re sick, Greyson.”

“I kndow, I kndow,” Greyson said, yanking the rubber band out of his hair and letting it fall wildly around his shoulders. “I just… I… hh… huh! HuhhhIGTSZHH-ue! HTSH! HRSHH-uh! Fuck – HNGSTHHZUE!” The sneezes wrenched themselves from him, rough and painful-sounding. Greyson stood, post-fit, and pushed his hair back with a hand. “Sorry,” he said, his voice wavering.

Elijah sighed; it was too late to fight. “C’mon,” he said, “let’s go sit for a bit. I can’t send you home like this.”

He led them both back to the bar and, despite his better judgment, poured them each a whiskey. Greyson coughed and took a swig of his before Elijah even sat down. “Thangks,” he said.

“Don’t mention it.” Elijah drank his whiskey slowly, trying to decide what to say to the chef. After a moment of silence so tense it could be sliced through with a butcher knife, both Elijah and Greyson attempted to start a conversation at the same time.

“Grey, I -”

“Lij, it’s-”

They both stopped, smiled at the absurdity, and Elijah motioned to the chef as if to say the floor is yours.

“Ndo, you go ahead,” Greyson said, sipping his drink. “Besides, I cand barely talk.”

Elijah couldn’t disagree with him there, so he let out one forced little laugh and then sighed. “Grey, I’m sorry. Really. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“Grey,” Elijah said finally, turning towards his friend, “what’s been going on, really? You’re… something is wrong. You’re not… you.”

Greyson shrugged. “I shouldn’t be bringing every disease kndown to mban into the restaurant, but here we are,” he said, coughing into his fist. Elijah laughed in earnest this time, and the two of them lapsed into silence once again.

Greyson pursed his lips, downed the rest of his drink, and cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he said. “You’re right. I’mb ndot.” The chef sighed and turned his barstool towards Elijah. “It’s… it’s the whole Collin thing. It’s beend… a lot harder than I thought it would be. Getting over himb.” Greyson sniffled; Elijah was unsure if it was illness-related, or if the other man was crying. He was quickly given an answer when Greyson wrenched to the side – “HGTSHH-ue! Hh! HhhNGTSHZ-ue!” The chef wiped his nose on the back of his hand and cringed. “Sorry,” he said.

Elijah shook his head. “Dude,” he said, “you could’ve just told me you were taking it harder than you expected. You know I’m always here if you need to talk. I thought we were friends.”

“Lij, we are friends, but like… I don’t kndow. It’s weird talking to you about this shit because you don’t… I don’t kndow, fuck up. You take everything in stride, like it all rolls off your back. I’mb ndot like that. Plus, you literally ndever date - I’ve ndever kndown you to have a single girlfriend, let alonde break up with someone, and we’ve kndown each other for years.” Greyson pressed his hand into one of his eyes and groaned. “Fuck, I thingk I’mb getting andother fuckigg sindus infection,” he muttered. Elijah gave his friend a pointed look.

“The fact that you know off the top of you head exactly what that feels like definitely says something about these past few months,” he said, prompting a sharp laugh and the middle finger from Greyson. Elijah smiled. “You’re right,” he said, after a beat. “I don’t date. There was a girl, a long time ago – before I bought this place. I thought we were going to get married one day.”

Greyson’s eyebrows shot up, headache clearly forgotten. “Ndo way,” he said. “You’re shitting mbe. You? What was her name? Do I know her?”

Elijah laughed. “You don’t know her,” he said. “She was actually a chef, too, at this vegan brunch place in the Financial District. But she wanted kids, she wanted me to have a job where I could be home in the evenings…” Elijah shrugged, a fingernail digging into a groove in the bar top. “It just wasn’t meant to be.”

“Dude,” Greyson said, placing a hand on Elijah’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, man.”

Elijah shrugged again, and looked back up at Greyson. “It was a long time ago,” he said. “But I mean – I do get it. Heartbreak, that is. You can talk to me about anything, Greyson. And I’m not some let-it-roll-off-your-back, take-it-in-stride monolith, either.” He smiled, attempting to break the tension. “Obviously I get pissed all the time so just… talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. I want to help.”

The two of them sat in silence once again, neither really knowing the right thing to say next. Finally, Greyson’s body broke the tension: “HNGTSHH-ue! God, fuck,” the chef reached across the bar and attempted to blow his nose in a cocktail napkin – to no avail.

“Bless you,” Elijah said, and Greyson nodded.

“Thangks,” he said, slowly lowering his head to the bar top. “Fuck, I feel like such hot garbage. The going out every ndight thigg is definitely ndot for anyone over thirty.”

Elijah couldn’t help but cackle. “And you wonder why I have a two-drink-maximum hard line? I’d be dead on the floor if I drank like you and Matt. Welcome to old age, bud.”

“Yeah, you mbight be on to something there,” Greyson said, closing his eyes. “Definitely ndot gonna be hooking up with anyone under twenty-five anymbore, either. They’re all cesspools. HGTSHH-ue!”

“Bless,” Elijah said again. “Want me to drive you home?”

Greyson opened one red, watering eye. “In a mbinute,” he said. “I just ndeed to...rest mby eyes.”

Elijah pursed his lips to keep from laughing at the spectacle that was Greyson; mouth-breathing, whiskey-smelling, chest-crackling Greyson. Heartbreak didn’t look good on anyone, but on him it was especially rough. Within moments, the chef was snoring.

Elijah shook his head, stripped a table of its clean white cloth, and placed it over Greyson’s shoulders. Rest was rest, he figured. Elijah poured himself a rare third drink and sat next to his ailing friend.

“Sleep well, Chef,” he said, and took a long pull.

[thetinygentledoggy]

Rose Thorn In His Side

A/N Hey! This is gonna be my first fanfic ever, and kind of long so bare with me as I world-build. I get nervous thinking about posting this but my maladaptive daydreams just come up with the best material I have to type it out. This is gonna have some key points that I've entirely made up and doesn't exist in the TLW universe but hey, anything to make the story flow yeah? Lastly, this is Fem!Rabbit (medium-sized)(Y/N Ramirez)x Death(Lobo)

conejita = bunny (fem)

if there are spelling errors feel free to alert me! enjoy ☆

_________________________________

Chapter One: Table 7a.

'I am definitely a morning person.'

You thought to yourself as the sunlight from your bedroom window basically blinded you. You sighed, it must be 10am. You always woke up at 10am. No alarm needed, somehow your body knew what awaited it and got itself up without much help.

'I am absolutely a morning person.'

You tried to convince yourself as you stretched and felt all of the stiffness from sleep crackled and popped itself away. You finally summoned the energy to stand and immediately a shiver shot up from your feet to your head. The floor was ice cold, making you want to jump back into the sunny warmth of your bed. But instead, with a heavy sigh you treaded forward into your bathroom. You splashed warm water on your face and when you did you realized your face was cold as well, and the water felt nice. You let the water form a shallow pool in your hands and gently placed your face there.

'Maybe you really are a morning person.'

The thought crossed your mind only to be quickly interrupted by the sound of loud knocking on your front door.

You hastily patted your face dry and rushed to the door to see your long-time friend, Mateo standing there, looking more guilty than a murderer in Church.

"Don't be mad-" he started before you cut him off with a whiny retort.

"Noo Mateo don't do this to me pleasee." You begged, trying to avoid the inevitable B.S you knew was gonna come out of Mateo's mouth.

"I'm sorry Y/N, but Diego got hammered last night and he's really sick this morning, I even went over to check, just to make sure he wasn't lying and the poor kid is throwing up chunks. There's no way he can work, can you pleaaase work a double, por favorrr."

You sighed, knowing that you were definitely going to cover for him, but you were absolutely going to complain to yourself about it all morning.

"I am NOT a morning person, Mateo...but fine. I will come in, give me an hour and I'll be there and before you ask, sí, you do owe me, as well as Diego."

"Wait what, I'm just the messeng-" Mateo blurted before being interrupted with a playful "Adíos" and the door being shut in his face.

While getting ready to start your work day hours earlier than usual you cursed everything under the sun.

Curse your anxiety for making it so you would work at the same bar for 6 years, too afraid of new settings and people to ever try and get another job.

Curse Deigo for not knowing his drinking limits, forcing you to come in early instead of following your usual morning routine that you clung to so tightly.

Curse your need for control over your life, making you feel so overwhelmed and anxious when simple things like covering for a coworker occurs unexpectantly.

Curse life for being so difficult all the time.

Curse death too because if you were immortal you wouldn't have to worry about any of this at all.

You chuckled at your mini rant in your head before heading off to work at the bar that's been somewhat of a second home to you.

When you arrived at the bar, you took your usual position behind the counter, setting up your work area with clean glasses and making sure your kegs were ready. Your boss, Maria, placed a hand on your shoulder making you jump.

"Hola Y/N! Sorry to call you in like this, I know you already were gonna work the night shift but idiot one, Mateo, spent the after hours taking shots with idiot two, Diego, knowing he's a lightweight so, here we are, your lunch is on me today okay?" She gave you a reassuring smile before zipping away to take care of her duties.

You caught Mateo cleaning a table across the room and you shot him the coldest dirty look you could muster. No wonder he looked so nervous this morning, he was the main culprit. Mateo mouthed a pitiful "Sorry...love you!" while making a heart shape with his hands before running away out of your view into a backroom.

You sighed, and decided that you were going to try and make today a good day. At least at work you can escape your head. No room to overthink when you have to think about orders and drink making and cleaning tables.

Looking at a wall clock that read 11:34am, you decided to get lost in your work.

To your appreciation, the earlier work day went by fast. You saw the usual customers with their usual tales and problems and met a few newcomers who were just happy to see the bottom of a glass.

Checking the time again, it read 1:39am.

'Last call is at 2am, if I go fast I can be outta here by 3am.' You thought to yourself while drying some shot glasses.

Most of your coworkers bid you goodnight a while ago, they were lucky enough to only have one shift. You were left with Gabriella, a nice girl with good street smarts, and Maria, your ever so loving boss.

Gabriella bumped her hip into yours with a tired but happy smile on her face. She was always a bit of a space invader but she also was the first person to check in on you most times as well as defending you from customers who got a bit belligerent after too many drinks. So, you didn't mind her touchiness.

"Hanging in there Y/N? We're almost done! I'm ready for a nice hot bath tonight." she said while she picked up a few glasses, helping you get them clean.

"I'm definitely tired. When I see Mateo and Diego again they're never gonna hear the end of it....like...ever. I will haunt them in the afterlife, just watch Gabi, just watch."

Gabriella laughed before greeting Maria who then came behind the counter and got very close to you and Gabriella.

"Alright ladies, mira mira, table 7a.-"

You glanced up at the table that sat in the back corner of the bar, there sat a hooded figure, so tall they looked like they would tower over you even while sitting. You couldn't make out much of the figures face, except for a nose and mouth that definitely belongs to a wolf.

You were a little unsettled by them, afterall, if they wanted a late night drink, shouldn't they have approached the bar? Why sit in the dark, and why not speak to the bartender..? Are they looking for trouble?

Your thoughts were interrupted with the rest of Maria's sentence.

"He called me over, said he wants a Black Russian, I've got to count the drawers for the night so you two handle that..and be extra kind to him..seems like he's in a bad mood..."

Maria looks up at you both with a hint of concern in her eyes.

"If he causes trouble..call the coppers first...then me..kay'?"

Both you and Gabriella were a bit taken aback by Maria's request.

'Did he really give her that bad of a vibe?' you thought before returning your glance to the hooded figure. He now was looking up, and straight at all three of you. He had piercing red eyes that seemed illuminated no matter the lighting. You could swear you saw a small sinister grin on his face as he stared intently. You suddenly felt so uneasy, and unsafe. Your heart quickened its pace so you forced yourself to look away. Maria had apparently already left and you turned your head to see Gabriella caught in the same petrified state you were in.

"Gabi-" you started only to be cut off by her somewhat shaky voice. She snapped her head to look you in the eyes.

"Y/N, I'll wash the dishes, wipe the tables, sweep the floors and even prepare the kegs for tomorrow. But I'm not serving him."

"Gabi, you don't have to do all tha-"

Gabriella took another glance at the hooded figure and whatever she saw made her have visible goosebumps.

"I'll start now." She chirped quickly before dashing into the backroom.

You looked back at table 7a, and now there was no mistaking it. He was smiling. A bit wider than he was before as well. He found something funny, and for some reason, that gave you the same goosebumps Gabriella had.

You didn't want to trigger an anxiety attack, which were at times unfortunately frequent for you, so you figured you would just make his drink, the quicker you can get this stranger out of here, the better.

His drink...

.......

His drink....

'What the hell did he order again???'

You cursed yourself for forgetting what Maria said he wanted. You cursed this strangers intense gaze for erasing all of the thoughts from your head. Maria kept her office locked while counting money, and there was no way Gabriella remembered since she never had the intention of serving him anyway.

You were gonna have to ask him.

'Shit.'

You grabbed your little notebook and pen from behind the counter before hesitantly making your way to table 7a.

You tried to keep your eyes down at the floor but you did glance up while making your way over and confirmed your suspicion that this wolf was staring you down all the way to his table. It left this ball of uneasiness in the pit of your stomach. You took a big but quiet breath in as you approached his table.

"Hola señor, I'll be serving you tonight, could you please remind me what your order was again?" You prayed your unease didn't show in your tone as you put on your best customer serving voice.

The wolf said nothing for a few seconds, staring at you with a smile that maybe would seem friendly on anyone else but him. Those seconds felt like an eternity as you took the time to see his face up close. His fur was white, with a dark mask like pattering over his eyes leading all the way down his snout. Despite the ghastly hood that might have suggested otherwise, his fur looked soft. You admittedly thought about what it would feel like to touch it. You concluded that on closer inspection, he was a bit handsome.

"A Black Russian." His voice interrupted your shameless thoughts. His voice was deep, smooth and cold and had the inflection like he thought something was just a bit comical.

"Of course, coming right up." You quickly spun yourself around and sped walked away back to the safety of the counter.

In practically no time, the Black Russian was made. This time while walking back to the table you made sure to keep your eyes down. You wondered when the last time someone even ordered a Black Russian was.

When you reached his table, you desperately didn't want to meet his eyes again, they made you feel like you were frozen in place, staring hopelessly at something that looked like it kinda wanted to eat you. So instead you focused your sight on your hand placing the drink on the table, trying again to hide your uneasiness.

All the while, Death, unbeknownst to you, was having a bit of a fun time watching you. The way you had tapped your pen nervously on your notepad, the way you bounced from one foot to the other, biting your lower lip and desperately trying to avoid eye contact. And he especially took notice of the way your tail twitched now and again. He knew he made you unbelievably unnerved and you wanted nothing more than to escape the situation. And yet there you were, taking his order with the shakiest smile ever. You could've cowardly escaped to the backroom like your friend but you didn't. You endured his unsettling gaze and he admittedly loved every moment of it.

"Will that be all..it's the last call so.." Your voice finally gave in and you couldn't hide your uncomfortability towards the end of your sentence.

He decided he was having more fun than he planned to, and he wasn't finished torturing you yet. He licked his lips, and you took a shameful amount of interest in the size of his teeth and the way his tongue rolled over them.

"Actually, I meant to order a White Russian. Would you mind.." He looked up at you, giving a smirk that didn't hide his devious amusement.

It took you a second to find your train of thought.

"Right, a White Russian..so cream then, I'll be right back." you chirped before retreating once again to your counter.

While fetching the cream needed for his drink, Maria finally left the safety of the office, she had her coat on, so you guessed she was ready to leave. She glanced over to the wolf, before turning her gaze back onto you.

"Any trouble out of that one?"

Truthfully, despite feeling as though you wanted to run for the hills during your entire interaction with him, and having a hunch that you will never forget those daggers he has for eyes. He wasn't actually guilty of anything other than looking like serial killer. You couldn't truthfully claim he did anything worth being labeled trouble.

"No, he um, just wanted a White Russian instead." you stated while motioning with the small pitcher of cream in your hand. Maria breathed a sigh of relief.

"That's good, well Gabi seemed a little sick when I saw her last in the back so I sent her home, she didn't get to wipe the tables so that and locking up are your final tasks for the night. It's raining pretty hard so try and find a spare umbrella in the back. Night Y/N." Maria then made her way out of the back exit. Leaving you and the wolf in the bar alone.

. . .

Oh right, his White Russian.

You spun around to see him tapping his claw on the table. Guess you took too long, he no longer seemed as amused.

You zipped to his table, while simultaneously trying not to spill any cream. When you approached him he immediately startled you with his voice.

"Any longer and the ice would've melted..and I thought rabbits were meant to be fast." He gave a deep half chuckle.

You were almost offended at his comment, there wasn't a need for stereotypes, after all you could say a lot about him being a big scary wolf. Suddenly, you had newly sprung courage bubble up in you. You poured the cream carefully and decided to speak up.

"If you had ordered the right drink the first go around you wouldn't have to wait Señor Lobo. We all can't be perfect."

As soon as the words left your mouth, you desperately wanted to swallow them back up. Hesitantly, you peeked up at the wolf. For a second you thought you might've saw a surprised expression on his face before quickly being replaced by one of devious amusement once again. He gave a deep hearty laugh before downing his drink and licking his lips. You cursed yourself for focusing on his mouth so much.

He then abruptly stuck out his paw with a grin.

You hesitantly placed your hand in his and gave a small shake.

"Death." he spoke as he tilted his head slightly, not letting go of your hand.

"What? Wait like, that's your name or..are you wishing it on me?" You asked giving a fake chuckle, hoping that he wasn't actually wishing death on you.

"That's my name. And yours is?" He still held your hand, it was strangely cold for someone who was covered in so much fur.

"Y/N..Ramirez." You gave a small smile before gently trying to pull your hand back only for him to hold it tighter for a second longer before letting go.

You hadn't really thought too deeply into his name, you've met a lot of folks with all sorts of unique names, some they were given, others they came up with themselves. If anything, his name suited him well. You couldn't imagine if he had a name like..José or Luis.

"Well, Death..the bar is now closed and I've just got these tables to clean before locking up. It was..nice meeting you and I hope you come again." You gave him the same spiel you gave every new customer.

"Of course, enjoy the rest of your evening, Y/N," He said smoothly. You nodded and reached into your servers belt to fish out his receipt.

However, when you looked up to give it to him, he was gone, and on the table was a pile of gold coins that were worth more than what one lousy White Russian would cost.

You looked around in confusion as you didn't comprehend how he could've gotten past you without making a sound. Or how he could've left through the front doors without ringing the bells at the top. You shook your head as you realized how tired you were. You scooped up the coins and left them on Maria's desk for tomorrow, after that you wiped the tables down and let your mind wander as you locked all the doors and windows of the bar.

You initially thought that Death's encounter with you would leave you with nightmarish memories of his red eyes and chilling demeanor. Instead, however, you kept thinking about all the wrong things.

You thought about how you liked his fur, and how soft it looked.

You like his scent, it reminded you of how it smells right after it rains.

You liked the way he talked, deep, smooth, and confident.

You liked the way his tongue glossed over his large teeth..and the way your hand felt in his..

You forcefully ejected yourself from your embarrassing thoughts as you locked the front door and stepped into the hard rain.

'Right. Maria did say it was raining and I did not grab an umbrella. What a damn idiot am I.'

You sighed deeply, preparing yourself for the 15 minute soaking wet walk you were gonna have to take home. You only got a couple paces in the direction of your home before you stopped in your tracks.

'Ah, I was right. I didn't forget those eyes.'

You thought to yourself as you immediately recognized Death's illuminated red eyes in the shadow of a tree not too far from where you stood. Hesitantly, you called out to him.

"...Death?"

Instantly, he emerged from the shadows, chuckling to himself as he approached you.

"Bien, conejita, muy bien. You have good awareness."

For some reason, you made a mental note to remember his compliment to you.

"Were you out here waiting for me?" you asked as he finally got within a few feet of you. It was then you truly realized how big he was. You weren't as small as other rabbits in your family, in fact you kinda considered yourself tall for a rabbit and yet, your head only came up to his chest, forcing you to lift your head up to look at him.

"Sí, it's raining hard and you have no umbrella. So I'll be a gentleman and lend you this."

Suddenly the hard pellets of rain no longer battered down on you, you blinked and realized, Death no longer had on his poncho, instead, it was on you.

You felt your cheeks and ears burn red with embarrassment.

"Ah, gracías.." You focused your sight on the ground as you found it too hard to face him in that moment.

"No problem, though of course you can't keep it..we are strangers after all, sí?"

'Oh right. Well then he'll have to take it back...after I get home.....Oh.'

You then realized what he was implying. He was gonna walk you home, you felt your cheeks and ears burn even hotter, and for a second you wanted to feel the rain on your face to cool you down.

"Right, well just this way then.." you trailed off as you began picking your pace back up in the correct direction.

While you focused your gaze on the ground out of shyness, Death focused his gaze on you.

He admittedly wasn't entirely sure why he was out here, walking some bunny to her home in the rain. He only meant to stop in for a quick drink after a long day. He mentally flipped through reasons that led him to be here, chauffeuring a little rabbit home.

He found you interesting, he liked the effect he had on you, specifically.

He had a strong effect on practically everyone. The running, screaming, pleading, fighting back kind of effect.

But on you, there was a push and pull. He noticed the way you couldn't be still under his gaze, how when given the chance you practically scattered to the comfort of the counter away from his table...but he also noticed the way you had unconsciously grazed your thumb over his paw when you shook hands... and the way your breath hitched when he leaned in too close. He chalked up his interest to wanting answers for this strange behavior and figured a quick chat on the way to your home would be all he needed to satisfy his curiosity.

....Plus, he enjoyed the way you had to keep pulling up his poncho because it was much too big for you. He couldn't help but chuckle at the sight.

"It's just past this uphill, not too far." You interrupted his thoughts. Your voice shaky, but this time not from uneasiness, instead, you found yourself very, very cold. Despite his poncho covering most of your body, it wasn't thick enough to not be eventually soaked in the relentless rain.

The shivering as well as the now slippery uphill walk slowed your pace greatly. Death, who was already making an effort to not speed past you with his naturally longer strides now had to come almost to a complete stop. He watched you helplessly attempt to conquer a small hill.

He didn't want to spend this much time on this little side quest of his. Shaking his head, he decided there was no other option.

He swiftly got close behind you and scooped you up bridal style into his arms. You screamed out in surprise as you found yourself suddenly looking up at Death, and the cloudy night sky, with rain more gently now, hitting your face. Death looked annoyed as he moved his mouth dangerously close to your ear.

"Hush now, conejita, you're starting to become more of a burden than you're worth." he whispered in your ear.

Offended, you scowled and looked away from him.

'It wasn't like I asked you to walk me home.' You thought to yourself as you begrudgingly let Death carry you in his arms, wishing you were home already in your warm bed.

Death looked down at you, seeing your hurt expression made him upset. He truthfully didn't mean to come across as rude as he did. The whole reason he's even here right now was to talk to you. Strangely for him, he regretted his comment and tried to change the subject.

"How long have you worked at the bar?" He asked plainly.

"Six and a half years, 17 days and 14 hours but hey who's counting." You grinned at your joke. You honestly did love working at the bar, despite all of the challenges it can present you.

Death nodded before carrying on.

"So then, you've seen many different kinds of people. What do you think of them?"

You gave your answer thought before speaking, humming while you did so.

"Ahh, most people are fun. They just want to let loose and chat everyone's head off. That, or they are looking for some comfort in drinking. Either way, I've had no real problems with most of the customers. I just do my best to give them what they need."

The rain has now come to a light sprinkle, the cold air pushed against you, making you want to retreat into the fur of this large wolf, but you refrained, not wanting to cross a line.

Death hummed in response and then there was a silence. You closed your eyes and focused on the crunch of the leaves under Death's feet as he carried you to home.

You could faintly hear his breathing, calm and steady despite just overcoming the uphill in the rain. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest combined with the sway of the walk was just the break you needed after such a long day.

Death's voice broke the silence.

"And what do you make of me."

Although it was a question, Death said it like he it was more of a thought to himself, as if he already knew the answer and was just thinking out loud.

You took even longer to answer this time.

"I think you must have it hard, with your appearance being so...unnerving. But you're a good guy I think. Plus, when you get a good look, you look kinda handsome. So cheer up, and don't be so down, you don't have to be the big bad wolf, you can be whatever you want."

You decided to answer honestly as you saw your cottage not too far away. And it's not like you'll ever see this guy again, so who cares if you say something just a bit embarrassing.

Suddenly, Death placed you gently onto your feet and removed his poncho from you.

You turned to look at him, hoping your honesty didn't tick him off. Death stared off at something else. This time he was the one avoiding eye contact.

"You're home, rabbit." He said as he put his poncho back on himself, seemingly unbothered by how cold and wet it was.

You turned to see your cottage just a few paces ahead of you.

"Ah thank you, be safe on your travels."

He paused, still glaring into the void.

"You too conejita, I don't want to see you too soon."

Before you could ask him what that last part meant, you blinked and he vanished. And somehow, with his departure, the air felt warmer.

That night, after a much needed shower and dinner, you laid in your bed with your head full of nothing but the wolf from the bar.

You wished on every star you could see from your window that he wasn't just a passersby.

That you might get to see Death again.

You drifted off to sleep, with dreams of Death filling your head.

.....

Not far from your home, Death sat against a tree. Your words replaying in his mind. He ruffled the fur on the top of his head with a heavy sigh.

He knew he couldn't leave you alone after that.

End of chapter one.

[canirove]

Rúben Dias Imagine | two

Author’s note: Had this sitting on my drafts for a while, and thought, why not post it today that he finally played again? 😅 It’s something very random inspired by a prompt I saw here on Tumblr about jokingly catcalling someone in a different language, and not knowing they can understand that language. Hope you like it and thank you for reading! 💜

Masterlist

"Ok, ok. Repeat it again. Slowly."

"Te daba... Como cajón... Que no cierra."

"I think I got it. And it means?"

"Basically that you want to fuck him." 

"I mean literally, Sam" I say, rolling my eyes.

"Well, you know when you can't close a drawer and you start hitting it with your hips or your bum?"

"Oh..."

"Exactly. Which is what you want to do to Rúben. Or him to you" Sam says, elbowing me in the ribs.

"Yeah, yeah. But I can't tell him that, I'm not crazy."

"You'll have to be very drunk to say it, and we can't get drunk at a work party."

"We cannot."

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Rúben!" I giggle, walking towards him. "Hello."

"Hello. Enjoying the party?"

"Very much. You?"

"It's ok."

"I have something to tell you" I whisper.

"You do?" he asks, arching an eyebrow.

"Yep. Te daba cajón cierra. Wait, no. That wasn't it" I laugh. "Give me a second... Ok, got it. Te daba como cajón que no cierra."

"I beg your pardon?"

"¡Te daba como cajón que no cierra!" I repeat, giggling like an idiot.

"Do you... Do you know what that means?"

"Yeah, Sam told me."

"But the literal translation or...?"

"I know what it means, Rúben. Do you?" I ask, trying to give him a mischievous smile.

"I do, yes."

"Oh... I thought you were Portuguese!"

"I am, but I also speak Spanish. It isn't that different from Portuguese, and my longest relationship was with a Spaniard, I learnt the language while we were together."

"Hot and intelligent" I snort. 

"Thank you?" he chuckles.

"And probably taken. A guy like you is definitely taken. Like, who am I kidding?"

"I'm single."

"And I'm the Queen of England!" I laugh. "Wait, no, she's dead. And I'm not dead. I am alive. Very alive!"

"And drunk. Very drunk" Rúben laughs.

"Don't tell our boss, please."

"It'll be our secret" he winks. "But you should stop drinking."

"And go for a wee."

"Do you know where..." 

But I don't hear what else he says. I'm already running towards the bathroom, feeling like I'm going to explode.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Morning."

"Hm" I grunt.

"Or should I say buenos días?"

"What?" I say, looking up from my coffee and meeting Rúben's eyes. He's talking... To me?

"How is the hangover?"

"The worst ever" I say, focusing again on the coffee machine and trying to process that Rúben knows I exist.

"Did you drink more after going to the bathroom? I didn't see you again."

"Wait, what? We... We spoke last night?" I ask, looking at him again. He looks so fresh and handsome while I look and feel... So ugly. Disgustingly ugly.

"You don't remember?"

"I... Maybe?"

"Dear God" he laughs. "Wait, too loud?"

"Yeah" I hiss.

"I'm sorry" he says with an apologetic smile. "But yes, we spoke last night. You shared with me your knowledge of the Spanish language."

"No!" I say, everything around me starting to move.

"Wow, careful there" he says, grabbing me by the arm and making me sit down. "Are you ok? You just went so pale..."

"I'm fine, I just..."

"You should have stayed home, call in sick."

"I thought I had dreamt that."

"What?" Rúben asks. He's sitting in front of me with his hand still on my arm, his thumb making small circles that instead of soothing me, are making me feel more dizzy. Though I don't want him to stop, to be honest.

"Me saying that in Spanish... I thought I had dreamt it. Did I... Did I also kiss you?"

"No, you didn't" he chuckles. "That was part of your dream."

"Oh, thank God" I sigh. "Not that kissing you is something bad, it's the total opposite. I guess. I don't know. I should stop talking, shouldn't I?"

"What you should do is eat something, you still look very pale."

"I'm not hungry."

"But if you don't eat, you may faint, this time properly, and I may not be there to catch you. You must eat something."

"Ok..." I whisper, trying not to think too much about his arms around me.

"Wait here, I have some energy bars on my desk."

"You don't have to, Rúben."

"I insist" he says, getting up from his chair and letting go of my arm, already making me miss his touch. "Just promise me you won't run away anywhere like you did last night."

"I won't, I promise."

"Chocolate or apple?"

"What?"

"Nothing, I'll bring both" he laughs before disappearing through the door, leaving me thinking that besides being hot and intelligent, now I also know that he is extremely cute and caring, which means that my crush has gone from 10 to 100. Great.

[kaneaken]

ii. hello, my name is shikanoin heizou

previous × masterlist × next

" hello, my name is shikanoin heizou and i think i am being followed. "

" that makes it my issue because-? "

heizou groans, smacking his head against the desk.

" help a buddy out here, scara, " heizou grumbles, " i hope you know that if you were ever in my position, i'd be on the culprit's tail in a second "

" oh, yeah? then, go be your own detective, sherlock, and stop bothering me, " scaramouche retorts

" at least be my watson? " heizou pleads

" no. "

" pretty please? "

" i already said- "

" i'll leak those photos of you at our last sleepover. i bet your fangirls would love those "

and thus, began the investigation of shikanoin heizou and his trusty assistant, scaramouche.

" and how exactly do you plan to find your stalker sitting around in the band room? " scaramouche grumbles, scrolling through his phone as heizou paces around

" well, a good detective should never start an investigation without gathering prior information first"

heizou takes a seat next to scaramouche, pulling out his notepad and pen. he scribbles a few names down and some notes next to them

" you already have suspects? " scaramouche asks, glancing at the scribbled names

" not exactly suspects, more like witnesses who are likely to answer a few questions or even spill the beans "

" 'sup, kuki! " heizou waves to the arataki gang member to which she sighs, already shaking her head

" what did the boss do this time? "

" nothing that i'm aware of. we aren't here to get him in trouble. we just wanna have a chat "

" it definitely sounds like trouble to me when you say that "

" i agree with her," scaramouche pipes in

" anyways, ignoring what my partner here says, we just wanna know where he's at "

" the boss left a bit ago mumbling about studying for his math quiz, so i'd say he's by the vending machines, " shinobu sighs, " probably stress eating, which, by the way, if he is, would you stop him? he'll get sick like that "

" itto, what's- "

" it wasn't me! "

heizou watches as itto almost chokes on his granola bar. he pats itto's back until he calms down.

" sorry for the scare there, bud, but i've got some questions for you "

" about what? "

" well, i just so happen to have attracted some unwanted attention and i was wondering if you happened to know about it?"

" uh, well, i wouldn't call the attention unwanted, " itto mumbles

" and why do you say that? "

itto pauses and, nervously, avoids eye contact with heizou.

" well, i'm sure it's just someone who wants to get to know you. not that i know who it is, but maybe they're just scared that you're playing with their feelings and they're just scared to actually approach you to get to know you. just a guess though, haha "

heizou blinks, not expecting such a specific answer.

" i wouldn't happen to know this person, would i? "

" ... "

" ... "

the bell rings, cutting off the conversation between the two males.

" oh, well, that's the bell! gotta run, buds! " itto hurries away from the duo, almost tripping over his own two feet.

scaramouche looks over at heizou, pondering over what itto told said.

" afraid of me playing with their feelings... who have i talked to that would think that...? "

scaramouche grabs heizou's collar to drag him to class as he mumbles to himself

once they reach their classroom, scaramouche turns back to see a bright red heizou

" what got into you? "

" i figured it out "

" and? "

" it's y/n "

author's note; heizou dragged along scara for the scary dog privileges 😔 hope you guys enjoyed this installment :) taglist is open if anyone's interested <3 see you guys next time (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)

[formulauno98]

Once Upon a Time in Montreal | Chapter Five // Part 2

Good morning Montreal. When you woke up in unfamiliar surroundings the reality hit of what you'd just done. Now that you'd crossed the line would you ever be able to return?

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: References to sex

Author’s Notes: Disclaimer, purely fiction, no-one is married in this alt-universe.

SUNDAY AM

Waking up the following morning in Toto’s bed the reality of what you’d done sank in. You’d slept with the boss, violating every HR rule in the book. On one hand, you felt sick, just as things had started to click in your role you’d fucked it up, but on the other hand, you were ridiculously happy with last night’s turn of events and something about it felt right. One thing was for certain, you hadn’t even got the excuse of drinking last night as you’d barely drank half a glass of wine before you’d fallen for Toto’s charms. 

Your first task of the day would be to extricate yourself from Toto’s vice-like grip. To your surprise, he was a cuddler and hadn’t let you go all night. In different circumstances, you would have said I-Do right then and there but you had to remember that he was your boss and this was a wildly inappropriate sackable offence.

Wriggling around, you tried to get free but it just was not going to happen. Having tried your best you figured you could at least reach for your phone on the nightstand and check your emails and messages. You felt incredibly guilty for missing the team dinner and hoped that your colleagues wouldn’t be too upset. Extending an arm, you managed to just about reach your phone, leaning back into Toto’s arms as you scrolled through your messages.

No worries Y/N, we will see you next time! x

Sophie had sent that following your message about having a call with Toto. Less understanding was Tom.

Why did you ditch us for the boss? He’s boring! Come after your call!

Eyeing behind you, Toto was still sound asleep. As close as you were to him, often calling each other all sorts of names, you knew he wouldn’t appreciate others calling him boring. You typed out a reply.

Sorry Tom, I’ve just seen this. I actually went to bed straight after the call. Hope you guys had fun! Y/N.

Next up was Lewis, a surprise to you as he very rarely messaged you.

Hey Y/N, what happened to you and Toto? We miss you! x

Again, you typed out a measured reply.

I’m so sorry we had a call and it ran late. I’ll be there next time, hope you had fun! x

Just as the sending whoosh sounded, the man who was still clutching you for dear life finally stirred.

“Morning,” he said, his voice gravelly, kissing your neck from behind and running his hand over your stomach. “What time is it?”

“Morning,” you smiled, “Five to seven.”

“Mmm so we have an hour before we need to get ready.” he said, his hand creeping lower, “Why are you on your phone already?”

“You have an hour, I have half an hour, I need to be at the track before you.” you said, grabbing his wandering hand and moving it back up to waist level, “And I had a bunch of messages from people asking me where I was last night, even Lewis!”

“Mmm but give me ten minutes,” he said pressing into your back, definitely wide awake now. “Why did Lewis message you?”

“Scared you’ve got competition?” you smirked, “As much as I would love to stay in bed with you, I really need to go.”

“I wouldn’t blame you, he’s young and has good fashion sense,” Toto said, looking slightly wistful.

“Oh my God, are you really saying that? I’m in bed with you, I think it’s obvious who I like.” you said, turning around to face him, “Even if it is wildly inappropriate and if anyone finds out I’ll be fired.”

Toto looked concerned, reaching out to caress your face, “Please know that I would never let that happen.”

Not entirely convinced you replied, “That’s very sweet but trust me I know the press and if they got wind of this it’s game over.”

Toto sighed, rolling over onto his back, his hands reaching up to ruffle his hair. “You’re right but I don’t think it’s the worst thing in the world.”

“Tell that to the board,” you said dryly, sitting up, wincing slightly as you were still sore from the previous night’s activities. You swung your legs out of the bed and started looking around for your abandoned clothes, coming to the swift realisation that you were going to have to do the walk of shame in last night's clothes back to your room. 

“This is stupid. It’s no one else’s business what we do in the privacy of our own rooms. It’s not like I’m fucking you in the middle of a team briefing.” said Toto groaning and sitting up, avidly watching you dip around naked picking up various items of clothing. 

“That’s a charming turn of phrase,” you said, turning around and slingshotting your underwear back at him, hitting him square in the face.

“I’ll keep those,” he said, pretending to pocket them.

“Creep,” you said, returning to the bed to dip down and kiss him once more. Something about him was easy and natural, you supposed it helped the fact that you’d spent a lot of time together over the past year, both in and out of work. You were comfortable enough to tease the hell out of each other and were always laughing.

You squealed as he pulled you down back on top of him and back under the covers, your resistance no match for his strength, “Toto!”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” he said, peppering your shoulders and chest with kisses before finding your lips. You were torn as you needed to go and be a responsible adult but were worried that this would be a one-time thing so you wanted to make the most of it.

Breaking the kiss, you snuggled into the crook of Toto’s shoulder, draping an arm across his broad chest as he cuddled you close “How about we make a deal.” you said, smiling, “If I go now, we do this again sometime soon?”

Your head on his chest, you could feel Toto’s heart beating fast against your ear. Curious about what he was going to say to your suggestion, you craned your neck up, “Or we could never speak of this again. Whatever you prefer.”

Toto whipped his head down, “Absolutely the first. Do you?”

“Want to do this again? Of course I do,” you said, meeting his uncertain brown eyes kindly.

His face relaxed and he cracked a smile, “I’m glad you said that. I thought you would wake up full of regret like you did in Baku.”

“Oh gosh, I’m still sorry I cried like that,” you said, a little sheepish, “It wasn’t you, it was me.”

Toto laughed, “I’ve heard that one before.”

You patted him on the chest, “I highly doubt that. But this is different. I was one hundred per cent sober. I blew off the team for you.”

“You blow all of the team?” Toto said, chuckling away to himself.

“You are a nightmare.” you said, kissing him one last time before jumping out of bed and slipping on last night’s clothes, “Go back to sleep, you can have your half-hour lie in.”

As if on cue Toto yawned, “Maybe just five minutes. Can I at least see you out?”

Now fully dressed you wandered back over to the bed to where the sleepy man lay, looking very cosy, engulfed in the white duvet, “Honestly it’s fine, get your beauty sleep and I’ll see you at the track.” You bent down to kiss him one more time.

“Well if you are sure.” he said, smiling as you made your way to the door before calling out, “Y/N, let’s be discreet though.”

Slightly put out by his words, you replied carefully, “Of course, it’s my middle name.”

“I know. It’s why we hired you,” he said as you made your way out.

You weren’t sure how to take the last exchange with Toto, it was as if a switch flipped and he’d gone into Team Principal mode. Looking both ways down the corridor you crept towards the elevator, praying you wouldn’t run into anyone you knew. Half of the team were staying in the same hotel and you knew they’d inevitably be a few early risers.

As the elevator bell pinged to signal it was on Toto’s floor you were relieved to find it empty. Stepping inside you prayed that no one would call it to the floor in between yours and Toto’s. Unfortunately, luck was not on your side today and the elevator came to a halt, pinging again as the doors opened to reveal a surprised-looking Sophie and Lara, yours and Toto’s respective EAs, dressed in their gym kits ready for a morning workout.

“Good morning Y/N,” said Lara, clearly looking your outfit up and down. “Such a shame you couldn’t make it last night. That’s a smart outfit for race day.”

Thinking rapidly on the spot you mustered the best lie you could come up with, “I know, I was annoyed I had to miss it. I just had a breakfast with Toto and a retailer who would potentially be interested in working with us.”

“Oh, that’s interesting. Who was it? I don’t recall anything being in the diary.” said Lara.

“It came about after our call last night,” you replied vaguely, hoping she wouldn’t ask anymore.

“Oh yes, of course, the call last night. Again, I didn’t have it in the diary. Toto needs to keep me in the loop as how am I supposed to manage his diary if I don’t know about half of these things?” she said, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

Inwardly laughing at the thought of Lara scheduling your late night and early rendezvous in the diary, you replied, “You know how he is, a typically disorganised man. I’m sorry I missed the dinner, it was thanks to him.”

Lara nodded in agreement as the elevator pinged to signal you had reached your floor. Phew.

“That’s me, I’ll see you both shortly,” you said as you stepped out.

“See you later Y/N,” they said in unison.

Relieved that they seemed to buy your cover you dropped a text to Toto to make sure he had the same alibi.

I just bumped into Lara in the elevator, if she asks can you say that we had a breakfast meeting with a retailer?

You made your way along the corridor, praying you wouldn’t bump into anyone else and could finally breathe once you were back in your room. You quickly set about showering and getting ready for the day ahead.

SUNDAY PM

As you always worked ahead, you’d spent a productive morning locked away in your office, figuring out the schedule for the upcoming British Grand Prix. It was going to be a huge moment for the team with your two British drivers and the media requests had been pouring in. Interest in George was now almost matched to that of Lewis and you knew it was going to be interesting as the young driver’s career trajectory grew.

Lost in your thoughts your phone buzzed, it was Toto replying to your text earlier.

Shit I just saw this. I told Lara I was sick so stayed in bed this morning.

Your hands flew to your face, Lara was a smart cookie and would not take long to put two and two together.

Shit.

Toto replied quickly.

Indeed. Will you come down to the garage? I’d like you to be here for the race.

Surprised that he was asking you as he normally allowed you to decide when and where you would be needed, you started gathering your things and replied.

Of course, see you in five.

———

Perched beside Toto at the large desk in the middle of the garage you felt very awkward. You often sat beside him during races but after last night’s events, you felt as if all eyes were on you. It was silly as all eyes were always on Toto, multiple cameras waiting for him to do or say something they could use. What didn’t help was the knowing smile he kept giving you every so often. When George made a particularly daring overtake, bringing him up to P3, Toto could barely contain his joy and reached over and squeezed your thigh without a care in the world. Grateful that the cameras couldn’t see your side of the desk you shot him a look, hoping he’d realise it wasn’t the best idea. He got the memo and shifted guiltily and developed a sudden interest in one of the plethora of charts on the screen in front of him.

As the race drew to a close, it was becoming evident that it was likely to be another double podium finish for the Mercedes boys. Lewis has held onto P2 and George P3, another solid result for the team. As they approached the sixty-eight lap in the seventy-lap race, your phone began to buzz. Your team were busy prepping for what was now going to be a hectic few hours. The press team were ready to go with Rosie standing by to facilitate the podium interviews.

I’m heading down now, I’ll be there ready.

You hastily typed a response, instructing Rosie to delegate to George and Lewis’ press assistants.

Thanks Rosie, send Emily and Olivia to the media pen.

Rosie replied.

Will do.

Thankful for your very efficient WhatsApp group you sat back as you watched Lewis and George cross the line. The garage erupted in cheers and before you could even blink Toto had scooped you up into an enthusiastic embrace, much tighter than he normally would. 

Letting you go, he gazed down and exclaimed “What a great day Y/N!”

You smiled at him fondly, he was a man who wore his heart on his sleeve, a quality that had drawn you to him right from the get-go. 

“A very good day indeed,” you said tactfully, mindful that eyes and ears were on you.

Toto smiled back and turned to congratulate the rest of the team as you were met with plenty of hugs and backslaps from all angles. Although neither driver had achieved P1, results like this meant that you were clawing your way back up the constructor's championship, something that meant the world to the team.

As the celebrations quietened down, you nudged Toto and said, “I think you should get out there for the podium.”

“Ah yes, I’ll go in a minute.” he said, slipping his arm around you casually, “Will you come with me?”

Before you had a chance to reply, Lara came sauntering over, her gaze immediately dropping to where Toto’s hand was draped around your hip, just a little too low to be friendly. Noticing this, Toto immediately dropped his arm to his sides, making you inwardly groan at his lack of subtlety.

“Toto! What a result! How are you feeling?” she asked, shooting you a strange look.

“Much better thank you. We had a breakfast meeting this morning and I think I ate something bad.” Toto said.

Lara’s face dropped as she had obviously wanted to call you both out on your misaligned stories, “Oh I see, I was confused when you told me you were in bed sick and Y/N said you were at a breakfast. That makes sense.” 

“Yes, I’m lucky I didn’t eat the salmon,” you said, content in knowing that Lara wouldn’t challenge her boss any further.

“Sounds like it.” said Lara, looking unconvinced, “Can I check if you are taking the plane tonight Y/N? I didn’t have you on the list but Sophie mentioned you both wanted to fly with us.”

You raised an eyebrow, as Toto interjected, “They should be on the list, why are they not?”

“Sophie didn’t put the request in last week,” said Lara defensively. You weren’t surprised by her tone, Lara was an odd one, she wasn’t friendly with many others on the team and you’d noticed she’d gotten frostier the more time you’d spent with Toto. You wondered if she was jealous in a way. She’d worked with Toto for almost five years and was sometimes very defensive of him. You’d tried to delve into the dynamic with Toto but he seemed relatively content with his EA, happy that she managed his diary, fetched his lunch and picked up his dry cleaning.

“Is that a new process?” you asked, unaware that Sophie normally did this.

“Well… yes.” said Lara, pausing, “We now need to give a list of names before we fly.”

“I see,” you said, not happy that she had tried to blame your EA for something she wasn’t aware of. The two of them were the perfect frenemies, often going tit for tat.

“Is there anything else Lara?” asked Toto, not impressed either.

“No, that’s all,” Lara replied, tight-lipped. “I’ll see you both later.”

As Lara picked her way back through the throng, you turned to Toto, “That was really weird.”

Toto nodded, “I think I need to remind her of our no-blame policy. She’s always quick to pass the buck to someone else.”

“Guys, they’re getting ready to come out on the podium,” called out a voice from the garage entrance. It was Rosie, making sure everyone was in place for the celebrations.

“Just coming.” called out Toto in reply before gathering the team to make your way out.

———

That evening you found yourself on the jet back to your base in the UK. It was a very different atmosphere to the one on the way there as the plane was full to the brim with your colleagues. You were sat in your usual spot opposite Toto, alongside James and Mark across the aisle, the Strategy Director and Chief Engineer. They didn’t fly on the jet often but Toto wanted them back in the UK asap in preparation for Silverstone.

George and Rosie were sat directly diagonally from you, snuggled up in one chair watching a film on George’s iPad. Their relationship was still under wraps with the press but the team were all well aware of the two young lovebirds and regularly had to witness their PDAs. 

Bringing up the rear of the place were Lara and Sophie who had been furiously whispering to each other for most of the flight. You made a mental note to have a word with Sophie on her return to the office and warn her of her colleague’s intentions. The two of them had been glancing your way and you were certain that Lara was filling Sophie in on Toto’s alleged illness.

You tried to pay it no mind and spent a few hours tapping away on your laptop, not saying a single word to Toto. As dinner was about to be served, you closed your laptop and put it away. George took this as an opportunity to make his way over to you, perching on the armrest of Toto’s chair.

“What’s going on? I’ve never seen you two so quiet,” he asked. 

“Just busy with work,” you replied. Toto nodding in agreement.

“Oh, I thought you’d had a fight or something,” George said innocently.

“No, not at all. We’re very happy,” said Toto, in a tone that suggested he was anything but.

“Hm, something is up,” said George astutely.

“Honestly, not at all.” you said, aware that Lara and Sophie had stopped chatting, obviously eavesdropping, “It’s been a long weekend.”

“For sure,” said George, just as the cabin crew started to make their way in with dinner and drinks. “Right, I’m going to head back over there for dinner. Glad you’re not fighting.”

You laughed, “George, believe me, if we were having a fight you’d hear it, we’re not the quietest people.”

“That’s true,” chimed James and Mark in unison from across the aisle, two men who were well aware of your temper.

“Oh really?” you said, raising your eyebrow and folding your arms, making the two men blush and Toto laugh.

“Well…” started James, before Toto interrupted, “She’s a firecracker no?”

You whipped your head around to shoot Toto a glare, “You can talk.”

“Ooh tension, I knew it,” said George, chuckling away from his seat.

Fortunately, before you could think of a sassy retort, a steward appeared with your dinner. Ratatouille with a generous piece of steak. Definitely an upgrade from the typical airline fare.

“Thank you,” you said, as he set it down in front of you.

“Wine, madame?” he asked.

“Do you know what, I think I will.” you replied, “Can I please get some red?”

“Of course,” he said as he set about pouring you a small glass.

“Wine?” asked Toto, his eyebrow-raising.

“Why not? We had a double podium finish and the rest of the guys will be celebrating tonight,” you said.

“True,” he said before asking the steward for a glass for himself. “Can I please get one too?”

———

The rest of the flight passed uneventfully, with everyone dropping off to sleep following your dinner. You woke up with a start as the cabin lights started to get brighter, rubbing your eyes as you came to. Toto was still fast asleep, as were Mark and James. George and Rosie were once again glued to their iPad and Lara and Sophie were busy on their phones.

You decided to take the opportunity to freshen up and as you passed Lara and Sophie on the way to the bathroom, Lara reached her arm out to grab you.

“Y/N, what was really going on this morning? Did you go out on Saturday night with Toto?”

Surprised by how boldly she asked, you were taken aback, “No not at all, we had a call on Saturday night and a breakfast meeting in the morning.”

“But why were you dressed like you were going out?” Lara asked.

“I wore clothes from the retailer we were speaking with. Yes, they were a little dressy for breakfast but Toto asked me to.” you retorted, not happy that an EA was quizzing you.

“Oh I see, Toto asked you to dress like that?” Lara smirked.

“Well not exactly but it was all I had from them at short notice.” you said, her smug demeanour infuriating you, “If you don’t mind I need to use the bathroom.”

“Sure, no problem,” she smiled tightly. Sophie looked rather shocked at the exchange and you felt awkward for your young EA. She was very different to Lara, perhaps less organised but much kinder and more personable. 

“Sophie, while I remember, can you please put some time in for us together on Tuesday morning? We’ve got a lot to go through for Silverstone,” you said.

“Of course, does ten work?” asked Sophie.

“That’s perfect, thank you, Sophie,” you said, making your way past and into the bathroom.

As you busied yourself taking off your make-up and slathering on your cleanser, toner and moisturiser, you couldn’t help but be annoyed by Lara’s line of questioning. It was disrespectful to you and disrespectful to Toto. You didn’t want to bother Toto with your worries but if she carried on with this attitude you knew you’d have to say something. 

Mindful of taking up time in the one bathroom, you did a light make-up reapplication and stepped back to look at yourself in the mirror. You looked pretty dreadful, tired and puffy, as fun as last night had been, you could have done with a proper night’s sleep. You steeled yourself to open the bathroom door, only to find Toto standing outside.

“Good morning Y/N,” he said very formally. He looked just as rough as you, his normally immaculately pressed shirt crumpled and his five o’clock shadow starting to show.

“Morning to you too, sleepyhead.” you smiled, hoping he’d loosen up and be normal. “Sorry, I hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

“Oh no, not at all,” he said politely, finally cracking a smile. As you slipped out of the bathroom, you made a point of pushing your hips against his, knowing that no one else could see from this angle.

This earned a smirk from the tall Austrian, his hand moving around at lightning speed to squeeze your hip gently as he crossed you and made his way into the bathroom. You turned around just as he closed the door and winked at him.

“Y/N?” called out a voice from a seat nearby. It was Rosie. “Would it be okay if I come in your car once we’ve landed? I need to go home and grab a few things and it’s the opposite direction to George’s”

You often shared a car with Rosie as you lived in the same small village, around twenty minutes from your headquarters in Brackley, “Sure, you’re always welcome Rosie.”

“Thank you Y/N,” said Rosie, polite as ever. She was almost the polar opposite of Lara, always the life and soul of the party, chirpy even on the toughest days and outstandingly polite. You weren’t surprised that George had fallen head over heels for her and you hoped that their romance would go the distance. If only they knew that they weren’t alone in finding love in the garage. You made your way back to your seat to prepare for landing, the whole plane now wide awake.

The landing went smoothly and you were grateful for the speedy arrivals process from the private terminal. Lara had arranged for the cars to greet you on the tarmac so you didn’t even need to step foot in the arrivals lounge. As much as she annoyed you, you had to admit that she was damn efficient.

When the time came to disembark and say goodbye to Toto you tried to stay professional and not let your emotions betray you. When he embraced you in a harmless goodbye hug, he whispered, “Thank you for this weekend.”

Surprised by his admission, you weren’t sure what to say and the moment had passed before you had the opportunity to reply. You both made sure to hug everyone else equally as enthusiastically, just in case Lara had eyes on you, leaving James and Mark surprised by the outpouring of affection.

“It was a great weekend team, thank you all so much.” said Toto, ever the leader as he gathered his luggage and made his way towards his car, “I will see you all bright and early tomorrow morning.”

Goodbyes were murmured as you and Rosie made your way towards the glossy black Mercedes waiting for you. As the driver loaded your luggage in the trunk you slid into the backseat alongside Rosie.

“So, I know this is bold of me to ask, but why exactly did you skip the dinner and why is Lara being so weird?” Rosie asked, her eyes bright.

You sighed, knowing that Rosie owed you one after successfully hiding her relationship with George for so long. You felt guilty lying but it was too early to tell the truth, “I’m honestly not sure what Lara’s problem is, basically I had a breakfast with Toto and she is put out that we didn’t tell her.”

Rosie’s eyes widened, “You had breakfast with Toto?”

“A breakfast with Toto, there’s a difference. We had a call on Saturday night and then a last-minute breakfast came up that we couldn’t say no to.”

“Ah I see,” said Rosie, “Look, I don’t want to step out of line here, but I think you should know. The way he looks at you, we think he’s got a crush on you.”

Now it was your eyes that widened, “Where did that come from?”

“Just something George and I noticed, he is always looking out for you, carrying your stuff. He pulled you out of the way in the raft race and then gave you his shirt. The man is down bad. I know we laughed about it last season but I honestly think there is something there.”

Sighing again, you decided it was time to tell Rosie some of the truth. Turning to her with a serious look on your face, you dropped your voice, “Look, please don’t let this go any further.”

“Oh my God! I knew it!” Rosie exclaimed.

“Hold on, it’s not that juicy.” you said, trying to calm her down, “Basically, do you remember last year in Baku?”

Rosie went quiet, trying to remember Baku as all the races blurred into one, “Ah yes, the one where we ended up partying in the hotel bar and you and Toto disappeared for ages. Oh my God, did you sleep with him?”

“Not exactly,” you paused, “After we left we went back to my room and one thing led to another and...”

“You slept with him!” said Rosie, her eyebrows raised as high as they could go.

“Rosie, are you ever going to let me finish this,” you said, exasperatedly. “I kissed him. We were both pretty gone and nothing crazy happened but I said he could sleep in my room.”

“Y/N!” Rosie said, shocked.

“It’s not as juicy as it sounds, we made out for quite a while and I went to bed and woke up completely confused about what had happened. I woke up in my bed and heard breathing from the living room and boom, there was Toto, all wrapped up in a blanket on the sofa.”

“That is juicy!” said Rosie, “What happened after that?”

“Well…” you laughed, “That’s where it was awkward. I ended up crying on him because I didn’t want anyone to find out and think I was sleeping my way to the top. You always have to be mindful of that as a woman in this business.”

“But surely no one would ever think that? You’re amazing at your job!” Rosie said.

You smiled at the younger woman, “Look, I’ve been there, done that, got the t-shirt. Trust me, people will always try to find a way to diminish your work and talent. Anyway, I cried on Toto, he was nice about it and made me a cup of tea. And then we agreed that although we like each other we’d never do it again.”

“Oh my God!” said Rosie. “I can’t believe you made out with Toto. How was he?”

You smiled, “A lady never tells.”

“C’mon, I bet he’s smooth as fuck.” said Rosie, before correcting herself, “I mean smooth as hell.”

You laughed more, although you were Rosie’s manager you liked that you were close enough to discuss things like this with her. She was only a few years younger than you and she was undoubtedly your closest friend in the team after Toto. “He was very good.”

“Knew it!” said Rosie, “I’m sad though, if you like each other you should just go for it. He is so gooey with you, honestly, he’s not like that with anyone.”

“I’m a bit gooey around him,” you said, silently glad that when you did tell Rosie the truth, she’d hopefully be on board.

“Well I didn’t want to say anything but you are.” she said cheekily, “George said it too.”

“You two are a nightmare!” you said, “Look, please don’t tell him about this. I know Toto would be mortified.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” said Rosie, miming locking her lips and throwing away the key.

As if on cue, your phone buzzed, looking down, you could see it was Toto.

Thank you again. You are so unbelievably sexy, I’m a lucky guy. Can I take you to dinner soon?

“That’s Toto isn’t it?” said Rosie, interrupting your thoughts.

“What makes you say that?” you said, hoping she couldn’t read the message from across the other side of the car.

“You have the gooey look. What did he say?”

“Ah, just something boring I’m afraid. Silverstone is going to be busy.”

“Why do I not believe you,” said Rosie.

You smirked, deciding to make a joke out of it, “Fine, he said Hey sugartitties, want to come for mine for breakfast again?”

Rosie laughed, “Knew it.”

If only she knew you thought to yourself before replying to Toto.

I could say the same thing. Sure, I would like that. Let me know when you are around.

[capricornlevi]

i will trade you my soul for a crumb of dilf restaurant owner nanami😩

hello hello lovely ! thank you for asking i am only too happy to oblige bc nanami is so close to my heart 😌

this is so fun to write it will prob be the next oneshot that i finish!

Restaurant Owner Nanami x Waitress Reader

“You’re here late.”

The voice that calls out to you from the back office is deep, authoritative, and matter-of-fact; since the rest of the kitchen staff packed up over a half-hour ago, you are fairly certain you know who’s speaking to you.

Coincidentally, it happens to be the very last person that you want seeing you after a ten-hour shift - with your face sweaty and hair in disarray from being stuck on floor-cleaning duty, you’d much rather slip away unnoticed.

Still, you owe it to Ijichi to keep the owner happy. Your overworked and underpaid manager has done you enough favours over the years - allowing you to swap shifts last minute, or letting you head home early when it’s quiet and you’re sick of hearing Naoya’s grumblings - so the least you can do for him is exchange a few polite words with his boss.

Nanami didn’t strike you as the chattiest of men, anyway; it’s likely he’s just making small talk out of obligation. You can’t imagine he has much interest in what time you clock out as long as the work gets done.

Just force smile for five minutes, empty the mop bucket, turn on the security alarm, and then you’re done for the evening. Easy.

Plus, as Utahime so constantly teases you about, you definitely don’t think he’s too bad to look at. How awkward could it be to chat with him?

“Yeah, just finishing the floors,” you call back to him cordially. “Utahime had to head home a little early - she’s got the flu, or something - and it was so busy this evening that we didn’t get much chance to do it til now. If you're in a rush, I won’t be long - just another minute or two!”

“Not in a rush,” he replies. You spin around when you realise his voice is considerably closer than before, and find him standing by the kitchen door, surveying the now-empty restaurant. “Just checking to see if you were alright.”

“All good,” you say, still smiling in spite of your exhaustion. You go back to your task, trying to wrap things up as soon as possible.

It’s pretty hard to focus with him looking, though. He’s not looking at you specifically, but still; heat travels up your neck despite your best efforts, and you find yourself mopping the same spot four or five times over in your distraction.

Not your preferred reaction, but at least Utahime - or worse, Gojo - isn’t here to see it.

“It’s funny seeing it so quiet,” he comments after a moment of silence. “After the rush this evening I thought this damn place would never be empty.”

“You don’t come by that often?” you ask, though you know the answer.

“No,” he answers politely, clearly aware that his dislike for the place is well-known. “Don’t make it down too much, but that’ll be changing soon.”

From the way he finished the sentence, you’d assume there’s more information there, but you don’t ask any follow-up questions. This is the longest time that the two of you have spoken one-on-one, so he’s probably not too eager to have a deep, personal conversation with a server whose name he probably still doesn’t know.

As if on cue, you’re snapped out of that train of thought by Nanami calling your name, clearly trying to catch your attention.

“I’m sorry?” you ask, a little embarrassed at having zoned out so much.

“I was just asking if you have plans this evening? I don’t want to keep you too long if you have somewhere to be.”

You shake your head as you wring out the mop for the final time, picking up the bucket to bring it back into the kitchen to empty.

“Nope, just heading straight home.”

His brow quirks up so slightly that you nearly miss it, but his face turns impassive once again almost immediately.

“No heading out with roommates, or a boyfriend, or something?”

When you shake your head no once again, he chuckles softly - a low, pleasant sound that makes your breath catch in your throat.

“You sound like me,” he notes. “Nothing going on either these days, except for this place.”

You’re not entirely sure why, but your skin feels hot, hot all over, and when you pass him to bring the bucket to the kitchen, you make the mistake of looking up directly at his face.

He looks down at you, his handsome face difficult to read as you try and slip by him to get into the kitchen.

He’s not deliberately trying to block your way, but he moves a bit too late, and you (very, very unintentionally) find yourself pressed up against him as you try to manoeuvre with the bucket.

Turns out, things could get very awkward.

[themultifandomgal]

Matt- Pregnancy Alphabet

A= Announcement (When/How do you announce your pregnant to you boss, co-workers, friends?):

Matt and I decided to keep the pregnancy quite for a while. The only people who know are Will, Nat and Kelly.

When we do decide to announce the pregnancy I'm already 6 months pregnant. We decide to tell everyone at once while we're all at Mollys. Matt also rings his mom and his sister who are both excited.

B= Baby Predictions (Who will the baby be more like?):

Neither of us have made any predictions just because of how nervous we have both been.

C= Cravings (What cravings do you have? ):

McDonald's McFlurrys with chips dipped in. Or chicken nuggets dipped in.

D= Due Date (When is the Due date?):

Due date is the 15th March.

E= Emergencies (How do they act when something happens during the pregnancy?):

Any time I get a headache or feel dizzy Matt worries because of the preeclampsia. I can't just say Matt because I worry and so does Kelly. I'm made to take everything easy while Matt asks me every few minutes if I'm ok. Being a doctor does have its good points, but Matt knows doctors downplay their illnesses so Will is usually called over or I'm taken to Med.

F= Falling (How do they react you falling or about to fall?):

Due to the preeclampsia I get dizzy so sometimes when I'm going down the stairs I may miss a few steps. One time, early in the pregnancy I slip and fall down a couple of steps. Matt rushes me into Med wanting to make sure both me and the baby are ok.

G= Gender(s) (What gender do they want the baby to be?):

Neither of us care, but Kelly wants the baby to be a boy to teach him sport then he quickly realised that he could do sport with a girl.

H= Hands (Do they like to place their hands on your tummy? Do you place your hands on your tummy?):

Yes. Matt is always placing his hands on my stomach even before I had a bump, so am I just hoping that we will be able to feel the baby move.

I= Illness (How do they react when you get sick?):

Other than preeclampsia, anxiety and anaemia I also ended up with shingles which meant a stay at the hospital to keep an eye on the baby. Matt of course is loosing his mind so ends up taking some leave from the firehouse until he knows we're both ok. During this time we both decided after this little one we wouldn't have anymore children through me, we would adopt.

J= Job (Do you stay at work? Are you allowed to stay at work?):

No. I am put on sick leave, while this meant little money coming in we knew it was better for me and the baby.

K= Kisses (Do they like kissing your bump?):

100% yes.

L= Life (How has life changed while your pregnant?):

Life is pretty difficult as I'm not working and I'm having to be monitored so much. Not only are we both anxious, we're also pretty stressed. I'm so grateful that we have Kelly to support us, we definitely need to make him godfather for everything he has done for us.

M= Movement (How do they react to feeling the baby move? How do they react to the sight of the baby kicking?):

When I feel the baby move it's like a huge sense of relief washes over me. Of course Matt also feels this relief when he feels the baby move.

We both kinda get freaked out about seeing a foot, but then we remind ourselves that everything is ok and even allow ourselves to get excited.

N= Nesting (Do you start nesting? When do you start nesting?):

As much as I would like to clean, I have to take things easy, so I have to trust Kelly and Matt that they are keeping the place clean and tidy.

O= Outfits (When do you start buying maternity clothes? When do you start buying outfits for the baby?):

I didn't allow myself to by maternity clothes because of being so scared of losing the baby. In the end Nat ends up giving me some of her maternity clothes because she's fed up of seeing me in leggings that are too small and a top that either belongs to Matt or Kelly.

P= Parents (Do they give advice? Is it good advice?):

Matts mom gives some advice, but I mainly speak to Nat about different things and she gives me quite a bit of advice which is pretty useful to know.

Q= Questions (Do they ask the midwife a lot of questions. Do they keep asking if your ok?):

No. He asks me a lot of questions, but I know it's just because he wants to know what's happening to my body and what's going to happen during birth. Matt also likes to tell me what size the baby is and what the baby's millstone of the week is.

R= Risk (Is there any risks during the pregnancy?):

A lot of risks during this pregnancy, but we're working through it.

S= Sickness (Do they you have much morning sickness? When does it start? When does it stop?):

No thankfully, grateful I don't have to add that onto the long list of risks and illnesses during this pregnancy.

T= Talking to the Baby (Do they talk to the bump? Do you talk to the bump?):

Not at first as neither of us wanted to get attached, but after I hit 6 months Matt would start saying little things like say good morning or goodnight to the baby.

U= Upset (How do they act when your upset? Why do you cry over most?)

Matt just reassures me whenever I'm upset because it's usually over if I'm going to loose the baby or if I will do something to harm the baby while pregnant.

V= Vision as in Supervision (Do they keep a close eye on you? Do they make sure someone's always with you?):

Yes. Either I'm with Matt, Kelly, Will or Natalie. I'm never left alone just in case.

W= What's the plan? (What is the birthing plan?):

I'm having a planned C-section as soon as the baby is fully developed.

X= Xray or Ultrasound (How do they react to seeing an x-ray of the baby. Do they tear up when they see the ultrasound?):

Matt cries whenever he sees the baby's ultrasound or when he hears the babies heartbeat, in fact we both do feeling relief that the baby is healthy.

Y= Yearning (How do they truly feel about having a child? Do they feel as though they are ready for a baby?):

Nervous, but excited. We feel as prepared as we can do, we have everything we need. Just waiting for little one now to make an appearance.

Z= ZZZ (How much sleep do they get during the pregnancy? How much sleep do you get?):

It takes me a while to fall asleep because I'm worrying most of the time, but when I do fall asleep I luckily stay asleep until the morning. Matt sleeps absolutely fine.

[thehuntss]

AFTERMATH - HIGH FOR THIS 2/2

•

On the next day everyone is sober. But all of them could remember crystal clear one thing. How Hotch and Prentiss announced they were dating. And since they had their own fun, now it was the team's turn.

•

Hi guys !

As requested and because I felt like it wasn’t done yet, here’s part two.

Thank you so much for your support !

Hope you’ll enjoy <3

xx

When the BAU woke up on the next morning, everyone felt the same: dizzy.

At some point some of them considered that their state was likely close to sickness so they could call in and stay in bed.

“I feel like shit. What the hell happened yesterday?” Derek groaned, on the phone with Penelope who was literally feeling the same. “Can we call in sick ? I can’t get up.”

“Am I being dramatic if I tell you I was considering the same my chocolate god.” She replied, suddenly thirsty like if she had spend days in desert without any water. “My head is about to explode and I can’t even sit in bed because it’s moving like a carousel.”

“I know, mine didn’t stop either, or it’s the aftermath of the cookies.” He mumbled, wondering how he could work today in this state. Derek didn’t have more time to think that he heard a knock on his door. “Don’t hang up baby girl.” He told Garcia before standing up and making his way to his unfortunate guest.

What a surprise he had when he saw JJ on the other side. She looked happy, and the little smirk she had over her face made clear to him that she would tease him for the rest of the case. What made him feel better was to know the others weren’t much to envy.

“Good morning. Are you feeling better?” She gently asked, already knowing the answer. He sighted, letting Garcia knows that his cover was spotted and in conclusion, hers too.

“I feel like I’ve been crushed by a giant weed cookie. I don’t do drugs. And I don’t ever want this to happen again.” He groaned as she chuckled.

“Don’t worry it’s going to pass. And for your information the others are pretty much feeling like you. Rossi is wearing sunglasses in his bathroom, and Reid thought he was sleeping in a coffin.” She resumed.

“And the lovers ? I had my headphones on, just in case they wanted to do it again…” he grimaced, clearly remember his boss and his friend making out in he police station restroom.

“They are the last ones I have to wake up….”

He laughed, feeling suddenly happy not having to do that. “Good luck with them, you’ll probably find them all naked and I personally don’t want to see bossman’s ass.”

“You’re gross. Come on, do whatever you want but be ready we have to be at the station in 30 minutes.” She said before leaving, as he unmuted his phone. “You knew she was coming right?”

Penelope faked a sorry sigh, laughing at the desperation in her best friend’s voice. “I always thought bossman and Rossi were our parents, I guess JJ makes a good one too.”

“You’re the worst.” He groaned, heading to the shower. “Wheels up in 30!” Derek said in a perfect Hotch imitation, before hanging up.

•

When Emily opened her eyes she felt like she was about to die or something close from it. She had never do drugs before, even in her chaotic childhood. She was having the worst headache ever, even alcohol didn’t do the same damages on her brain. “What the hell happened yesterday?”

She tried to stir like Sergio, but her body was sore as hell and then she heard a soft knock on the door. She stood up - too quickly her head started to turn - and opened, wearing Aaron’s shirt. When she saw JJ standing on the other side she smiled.

“Good morning. How are you feeling ?” The blonde asked.

“Terrible, I hate cookies.”

“Hmmm you’re the fourth person telling me this today. Is Hotch awake ?” JJ asked, presuming they had been sleeping in the same room, like they secretly did for the past year.

She didn’t know what was the funnier. Emily’s confused face when she heard her or the way she definitely didn’t remember a word of their original announcement the day before.

“What?” Emily replied confused, not knowing why JJ was asking that.

“Hotch is here right ?” She pointed at his shirt on her. “I mean, if you’re dating it’s normal. We have to be at the station in 30 minutes and I wanted to make sure everyone was alive.” The brunette still looked confused and JJ added. “It’s his room, that’s why I asked.”

And then she saw the light illuminates her friend’s brain as she understood the meaning of the question, looking at her boyfriend shirt. “We are dat…what are you speaking about ?” She frowned her eyesbrows and then realized. “Oh..oh you mean Hotch. Like is Hotch sleeping here ? Yeah, yeah he’s almost awake, we’ll meet you all at the reception.”

She closed the door, for sure she was having a blackout on certains moments of the day before. Emily remembered eating the cookies and then it was only flash backs, kind of blurry. She smiled when she saw her handsome boyfriend still asleep, and all naked.“Get it together Emily, we don’t have time.”

“Honey?” she sat next to him, pressing soft kisses over his face, almost falling off the bed when he jumped out like he had seen the scariest psychopath ever.

“What…” he groaned, feeling like his head was about to explode. “Hi sweetheart.” He said when he realized she was next to him, dragging her back to bed in a loving embrace, taking time to kiss her. She chuckled, straddling him.

“Good morning. How are you feeling ?”

He looked less livid, that was a good point, and as an answer Aaron kissed her again. “You look so beautiful when you’re wearing my clothes.” He whispered, feeling desire burning his body. Without warning he unbuttoned his shirt, looking at those perfect breast of her. She was so beautiful, they were so beautiful. And Aaron suddenly felt very hungry, and definitely not for cookies.

His eyes locked on hers, studying her face, waiting. She gave an almost imperceptible nod, letting him know she wanted this so bad. His lips latched onto her nipple and he sucked her flesh into his hot mouth. She felt so good, he could never get rid of that taste.

Emily ’s hand shot up to grasp the back of his head as she groaned in pleasure. “Aaron” she breathed into the air above and he bit her nipple gently in reply, making her shiver. As his mouth was busy he made sure to not neglect her other breast, giving her the best treat.

Emily whimpered, and Aaron once again found himself addicted to that sweet sounds, she was giving herself to him, and these moments were priceless. He was so distracted by her that he didn’t notice Emily’s hand move until it wrapped around his erection, making his hips buck against her. “Jesus, fuck” he gasped, knowing that reaching his climax wouldn’t take long this morning.

She chuckled, and before he could do or say anything she sank down on his shaft, moaning as she took him fully inside, the slight usual burn making her even more happy. “Oh baby…” her eyes squeezing shut, and her breathing louder, he could see how much she was enjoying herself. He hadn’t move yet.

Suddenly gripping her waist, he gave a big thrust, making her scream before he could cover her mouth with his hand. The heat of her tight channel around his cock made him groan, the sensations of physical love overwhelming him.

“Faster baby, you feel so good…” she panted, her hands caressing all over his torso, her body all tensed.

He pounded even harder, one of his hand on her clit and he knew she was getting close. Aaron wanted to give her everything, that little push that would send her over the edge. The harder he touched her sensitive spot, the better she moaned, the sound of his hips against her echoing deliciously to their ears.

A last hard thrust of his hips and Emily shattered, a long moan escaping her throat before she bit her lip to quieten herself a bit. Aaron loved to make her scream like that, something he got addicted to since the day they discovered physical love. “Come with me honey….” she almost begged him, still on her climax and a few thrusts later he came as well, spurting into her his hot and sticky fluids, groaning.

“What are you doing to me Em….” He whispered, catching his breath as she lied down next to him her head resting over his sweaty torso.

“Showing you how much I love you.” She replied, and suddenly reality hit her back, realizing they were now VERY late. She jumped out, and he didn’t need explanation before following her the shower.

“I guess we don’t have time for another round in the shower ?” She teased him as the water started to pour on their heated bodies.

“Emily!” But he wasn’t mad, he was terribly in love with her.

•

David Rossi, JJ, Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid and Penelope Garcia were waiting in the hotel lobby, all of them wearing big sunglasses, four of them wanting to die. It was even worst than a hungover and none of them seemed to have recovered.

“I feel like my head is a volcano ready to burst.” Derek groaned.

“Mine already exploded.” Garcia replied, very sensitive to the noises surrounding her.

“They are late.” JJ stated as Rossi sighted.

“They are the god and goddess of the most delicious and naughtiest business.” Derek mumbled, giving Reid a malicious look.

“Please Morgan, I don’t want to ever remember this episode of my life, I still can’t erase their moans from my head.” The youngest complained, very much traumatized. “It’s so unlike of them, neither of them would have done it in a public place like a police station. It doesn’t make any sense, I can’t find the right explanation.”

“Because there’s none little genius.” Dave replied him, shrugging his shoulders. “Let’s just say you can’t find answers of everything in books, sometimes you just have to…let go?”

“So you’re saying they listened to the little devil on their shoulder ?” Derek said, looking suddenly very concerned. “Interesting, maybe I should do that more often.”

“You already do that often, remember all the times at the bar my sunshine?” Penelope yawned as she answered.

“Are you being jealous baby girl ?” He teased her.

“Never, because I’m the supremacy and no one can ever uncrown me. Remember that.” She chuckled with this bitchy look that always amused him.

And before he could say something else they saw Hotch and Emily arrived from the elevator, both of them surprisingly wearing sunglasses too.

“It’s about time. Let’s go to the SUV kids.” David said, standing up and greeting his friends. They all did the same with a small smirk over their faces, leaving Aaron and Emily confused.

•

First SUV - ACT 1 (Derek, Penelope, JJ and Emily)

“So.” Derek broke the silence in the car, turning to Emily. “Dating Hotch huh?”

All the expressions crossed her face, not really remembering what had happened the day before, but they obviously did because they were all looking at her with the same expression. “What are you talking about ?”

“Oh don’t play with me princess. You basically told us and worst, showed us that you and boss man really gets along.” He said, Penelope starting to laugh uncontrollably.

“What ??”

She still had no idea what they were talking about. JJ felt bad for her friend and decided to help her, teasing her a bit. “You don’t remember yesterday ?”

“We’ve had some cookies and then you locked us up in the conference room.”

“Yeah right, and then ?” JJ continued, smiling knowingly. “You went to the toilets when Morgan started to sniff the table…”

“Hey I wasn’t sniffing the table!” Morgan exclaimed, as Garcia laughed louder. “I was…checking on it.”

“Oh…you smell like love!” JJ imitated then looked at him. “That’s what you said to that damn table.”

“No sense.” He managed to say, trying to remember but without success. “Anyways, Prentiss went to the toilets, and then…princess ?”

The three of them turned their look on the brunette and as they insisted, she suddenly got hit and everything came back in her memories. And for the first time she felt horrified, having flashback of those damn restrooms and what they had done inside.

“Oh my god.” She said after a few seconds, slapping her forehead with the palm of her hand. “Did…we…”

“Yes.” They all answered at the same time, JJ frowning her eyebrows, Pen laughing. “And I think everyone at the station remembers it.”

Emily went livid, unable to say something else.

•

Second SUV - ACT 2 (Dave, Spencer and Hotch)

“So you and Emily ?” Dave told his long time friend, looking at him like the proud mentor he was.

The confused look over Aaron’s face made him chuckle, the man had no idea what he was talking about and that was the funniest. “You don’t remember right ?”

He shook his head, looking stern and the usually strict but Dave knew him, he was being intrigued. He cleared his throat, looking at Reid in the rear view mirror, the youngest was fixing his feet, definitely feeling embarrassed.

“What happened ?” Aaron asked, feeling more confused when he saw the way Reid was definitely not looking at him.

“Let’s just say you and Emily had more fun yesterday, beside of the cookies.” Dave started, trying to focus on the road. “You followed her when she went to the restroom and both of you came back in later with some nice hickeys on the neck if you know what I mean.”

Horror crossed Aaron’s face and then he realized, he had literally forgot this part, or his brain made him forget because it was embarrassing, or because he had been too high.

“We…” he slowly said, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, not sure he wanted an answer.

“You did have sex in the restroom and we figured out because of the loud noises we could hear from the conference room.” Dave finished for him, unable to hide his smile, even more when he noticed how Spencer wanted to disappear off this damn car. “More horny than lovesick teenagers. You need to take a room or take some holidays and fuck everywhere you want but not at the police station.”

“Shut up Dave.”

He couldn’t say more, only his laugh friend ringing to his ear.

•

When the two SUV arrived at the station, both Emily and Hotch were livid, looking at the ground and going inside without saying a word. The rest of the team remained outside for a few minutes, JJ breaking the silence.

“How did it go for you?”

“I think we have something to tease them for the rest of our lives.” David chuckled. “And we also resolved the greatest case of the BAU.”

“I think they will never forget this, and if they do it’ll be my pleasure to remind them.” Derek added, his hands on his hips, too amused.

“And I think I’ll need some sleeping pills so Hotch and Prentiss will pay for it.”

They all turned to Reid, Morgan giving him a formal pat on the shoulder, all of them smiling. “Come on kids, our boss needs you.”

The horrified look on Spence’s face made them all burst in tears, Morgan clearing his throat before rectifying himself. “For your intellectual qualities genius boy.”

“I hate all of you. I changed my mind, you are all paying for my therapy.” He pointed his fingers at them, getting inside the same way Hotch and Prentiss did few minutes before.

“Welcome to the BAU.” David sighted. These kids were definitely going to kill him one day.

[winniethewife]

Eclipsing Love

(Marc Spector x Mafia!OC)

Last chapter ~ Next chapter

Chapter 12: Coming home

Words: 722

Marc had a really bad feeling about this. Charlotte had been gone for a couple days at that point. He had spent the days pacing the house like a tiger in its cage, snapping at anyone who asked him questions about her whereabouts. He could feel in his gut something was wrong. One day he woke up and was alone…still.

Marc sighs and Rolls his eyes before looking to a mirror standing in the corner. He was half expecting to be confronted by Jake but there was Steven. He looked at the timid man. He looked at Marc worried.

“We have to find her, mate. Something is definitely wrong here.” Steven looked at Marc with sad eyes. Marc runs his fingers through his hair.

“If she doesn’t want to be found how am I going to stop her? I’ve called her so many times and it goes straight to voicemail. What am I supposed to assume here?” He asked with a grimace on his face.

“I-I…I don’t know, I just…I miss her and we’re all worried sick. Who knows what that bloody pigeon has her doing?” Steven stammered out an argument. Marc sighs. Steven wasn’t wrong and he was already here so, what’s the harm?

“I miss her too Steven. I really do”

~

Charlotte leaned against the wall of the roof access to the hotel she had been staying, she looked out over the city. She was about ready to just give up and go home. She missed Marc and was tired of waiting for something that wasn’t going to happen. She turns to head back down to get her stuff and check out of the hotel when she was confronted by Khonshu.

“Where do you think you’re going, girl?”

“Home, I’m done here.” She pushes past the looming god.

“You think you can do that? Just leave?” Khonshu’s voice booms in her ears. She turns to him.

“You said I would do this with Marc that we would work together! I’m sick of this.”

“Charlotte, don’t do this.” His voice was a low growl, the animalistic side of the god showing through.

“I will! I am not yours! I will never be yours, do you understand me?!’ She shouts. It had been a few weeks since she had found out that everything had been set up. That Khonshu had specifically set in motion everything, Her and Marc meeting, the fact that she would become the leader of the family, All because he wanted her power, He wanted to use her position to transform the Walker family to bring his justice to as many as possible, the way he wanted it to be. Charlotte was shaking with anger. She was done. Done being alone, when she know she could do this with Marc. Done believing the lies that the god was telling. She storms off. She was going home.

~

Marc was about to leave to go looking for Charlotte when He hears her motorcycle pull into the garage. He turns and runs for the door. he makes it just as she opens it. She looked exhausted.

“Charlotte! Baby, Im so sorry I shouldn’t have-” He starts but is interrupted by her throwing her arms around him.

“No, Marc I’m sorry. I let that stupid bird get to my head. I should be doing this with you. You and me, we’re going to get away from this. I just want to be us, I’m done.” Her green eyes meet his dark ones.

“Wait are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Marc looks at her with admiration.

“I’m saying, we’re leaving the family. I don’t care, whatever it takes we’re getting out of here.” She says with determination. She feels a fire in her she hadn’t felt in a long time. Marc is overjoyed he pulls her in, his lips capturing hers, kissing her intensely. Their lips moving together in harmony as she grabs at the back of his shirt. His fingers in her hair as he takes in her scent, the feeling of her body against his, the way his heart is racing. After a moment they reluctantly pull apart.

“We’re gonna need a plan.” Marc says.

“Then, let’s get to work, but first, bedroom.” She says with the half smile he knows and loves. He laughs.

“Right away boss.”

~

Masterlist

Tag: @ominoose

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Long Day, Late Night (m)

Guys, idk what to say, clearly I’m going through a bit of a ~writing hyperfixation~ so please have this 2.5k mishmash I couldn’t get out of my mind even though I literally just posted a fic yesterday. 

This one is Greyson-centric, and takes place even earlier than the last one - like just a couple months after Greyson started at the restaurant (btw, the restaurant name is Elliot’s, which you find out in this story). It’s the first time Greyson is sick at work and Elijah is *oblivious*. I hope you like it, as always I’m not about to read it before I post it so you get what you get lmao. Also as always, I love and am obsessed with you all mwah mwah ok here’s the story gtg BYE

cw: male, cold, coughing

Long Day, Late Night

The only small mercy Greyson could think of was that this didn’t happen often.

In fact, Greyson couldn’t think of the last time he’d felt this shitty. It certainly hadn’t been in at least a year; definitely not since he’d started at Elliot’s. He cursed the unspoken chef rule of never calling out, never admitting defeat, and powering through everything; maybe he should’ve taken his mother’s advice and gone into accounting. Greyson seriously doubted that accountants prided themselves on going to work sick.

Greyson pushed through the back doors of the kitchen, squinting at the bright fluorescent lights against a killer headache. Silently, he said a prayer to the universe that today would be an easy day. They had a table of 15 that was supposed to occupy most of the evening – thank god, he found himself thinking. Maybe I can get out of here early.

“Chef,” Elijah greeted Greyson as the chef walked into the office and slammed down his backpack. The GM was fervently typing out a text message, a look of frustration obvious on his face. Greyson yanked off his sweatshirt and pulled his chef’s coat off the back of his chair before returning Elijah’s greeting.

“Boss,” he said, straining against a painfully sore throat. Elijah sighed, clicking his phone off and regarding the chef once again.

“We have a problem,” Elijah said, rubbing a hand down his face. Greyson froze in the midst of buttoning his coat; those were certainly words you didn’t ever want to hear from your boss in your relatively-new position.

“Problemb being…?” Greyson asked, cringing inwardly at the congestion he could already hear in his voice. Fortunately for him, Elijah either didn’t notice or ignored it.

“The fifteen top,” Elijah said, pulling up their reservations on the computer. Greyson peeked over his shoulder and widened his eyes when he saw it.

“Forty?” Greyson asked, incredulous. “Since when has it gone up to forty?”

Elijah sighed again, defeated, and turned back to the chef. “An hour ago they called and asked if they could up their reservation; the hostess answered.”

“The ndew girl? With half a brain and huge tits?”

Elijah snorted. “Yeah. That’s the one.”

“Fuck me, Boss. Tell mbe you called them back and said we can’t do it.”

Elijah winced. “That’s the thing, Chef. It wasn’t them who called; it was the concierge at their hotel. They’re out all day, won’t be back to the hotel until after dinner. So…”

“So we can’t change it,” Greyson groaned. “Fuck. I mean, I don’t know if I even ha – ahh...ahhHSTSHH-ue! NGTSHH-oo! Snrf.” Greyson covered his nose with one hand and snatched a tissue from his and Elijah’s shared desk with the other. He cleaned himself up and crumpled the tissue in his hand before finishing. “I don’t evend kndow if I have enough product.”

“Bless,” Elijah said, distracted. “I know. It’s fucked, and I’m sorry. If we have to change their menu, we can. I’m here for you, chef. I’ll even throw on an apron if you need.”

Greyson groaned once again; of course this would happen today, of all days. The day he woke up aching and congested and with his throat on fire. The one day in his almost-three-months at his new job where he wasn’t planning on working fifteen hours. Greyson bit his cheek against the frustration he felt building inside him and turned back to his boss.

“It’s ok,” he said, attempting a smile. He clapped a hand onto his boss’s shoulder and grabbed his knife bag. “We’ll mbake it work. Thanks for the offer, b – HNGSTH-ue! HRSHH! HFTSHH! Huhhh...Hhh...hnnn.” Greyson swore from the crook of his elbow, cursing that final stuck sneeze. He grabbed another tissue, before thinking twice and grabbing the whole box to take with him.

“Bless, chef. And thank you, you’re a beast,” Elijah said, turning back to the computer once again. “Oh, and one more thing: we still have that tasting with the owners of that winery upstate today. They’ll be in at two – can you still come taste with me?”

Greyson raised an eyebrow and sucked in through his stuffed-up nose again. “Uh. Sure, boss. I’ll mbake it a priority.”

“Appreciate it,” Elijah said, turning to smile at the chef for a moment. “Let me know if you need anything from me.”

***

It wasn’t that Greyson was mad; it wasn’t even that he was disappointed. If anything, Greyson was just...confused.

Don’t get him wrong, Greyson was usually the first person to deny a cold. But he’d known from the moment he opened his eyes that this was no cold; he’d felt the snake-like chokehold of a fever almost immediately, and he’d devolved from a slightly stuffed nose at seven am to near-constant sneezing fits by ten. His throat was nearly closed with pain, and he could already tell that the cough was going to be a problem. He didn’t expect sympathy from his boss, but...some acknowledgment of the fact that he was clearly ill would’ve been nice.

“Huhh...NGSTHH-uhh! HehhGTZSH-ue! Fuckigg hell.” Greyson grabbed yet another tissue from the box he’d placed on his prep station and blew his nose again. His cooks had begun filing in for their shifts, and every one of them had cringed at their chef’s appearance on seeing him.

“Wow, chef,” his sous chef, Matt, had said when he joined his boss at the prep station. “That’s dedication.”

Greyson had made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat before tossing the tissue and washing his hands. “Ndo choice,” Greyson said, turning to cough into his elbow. When the coughing fit finally subsided, he turned back to Matt. “Fifteend-top’s forty ndow.”

“Oh, Christ,” Matt said, unpacking his knives. “Of course it is. What should I jump on?”

“Butcher the filets, please,” Greyson said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “They’ll be mince mbeat if I try to do themb like this.”

“On it,” Matt said, putting his bag under the table. “You take anything for that?” he asked.

Greyson shook his head. “Ndo timbe. I’ve beend prepping since literally the mboment I walked in.” He started coughing again and Matt raised his eyebrows before striding into the server’s station. He returned a few minutes later with a steaming cup and a handful of pills.

“That’s what the servers have; not sure what they all are but it couldn’t hurt to just take them all,” Matt said, handing them and the cup of tea over to his boss. Greyson choked out a laugh.

“I feel like if anything could hurt it’s taking a savage handful of mbystery pills,” he said, tossing them all into his mouth and swallowing with a mouthful of tea. “But I’mb ndot too proud to admit when I’m desperate.”

“Chef!” Elijah called suddenly, bursting through the kitchen doors, obviously on a mission. “The people from the winery are here. Can you break away for a bit?”

Matt raised an eyebrow at Greyson, who just sighed in return. He turned towards Elijah, who was once again texting someone fervently. “Yeah boss, coming,” he said. When Elijah breezed through the doors into the dining room, Greyson turned back to his sous.

“Hold down the fort for mbe?” he asked. Matt huffed out an amused laugh.

“Sure thing, chef. Good luck, uh, tasting wine.”

“‘Tasting’ will be a strong word for it,” Greyson mumbled, untying his apron and pushing through the kitchen door.  

Seated at the corner table was Elijah, a man and woman who looked to be a couple, and about thirty bottles of wine. Greyson’s head pounded at the sight of it, but he took his seat next to Elijah all the same.

“There he is, the man of the hour!” Elijah clapped Greyson on the back as he sat down, and Greyson nodded toward their guests.

“A pleasure,” he said, his voice gravelly. He cleared his throat and asked, “What’re we drinking?”

***

Greyson looked down at his watch for about the tenth time since they had sat down an hour ago. Elijah, taking notice of at least one thing about Greyson, nudged him toward the kitchen.

“Alright, Chef, thanks for your input,” Elijah said, then regarded the winemakers. “He has a big night tonight. Back to the grind, right, Chef?”

“Yeah,” Greyson said, pushing back from his seat. “Thangks, guys. Great wine. Hopefully we can make sombething work out.”

The winemakers smiled back at him easily; the woman of the couple held her glass up as if to toast Greyson. “Cheers, Chef. Hope you’re feeling better soon.”

Greyson colored, and Elijah whipped towards the chef, confused, but neither of them seemed to dissuade the woman’s partner from tacking on his own sympathies. “That sounds like one hell of a cold.”

Greyson meant to deny their accusation, or at least thank them for their kindness, but was rudely interrupted by his nose. “I – HNGSTHH-uhhnn. GTSHH! HehhITSZCHUE! Snrf.” Greyson coughed a little, if only to clear his throat, and shrugged sheepishly.

“Safe travels back,” he said in return, and headed back towards the kitchen.

Once inside, Greyson ducked into his and Elijah’s office and slammed the door shut. He’d done his damnedest to keep his symptoms under control around their guests, but now the floodgates had opened he really fucking needed to – to…

“HNGSTHH-ue! HTSZCH-ue! Huhh...nggg. Huh, huhhhHHHHUHESTZCCHUE! ETSHCCHUE! GTSCHZUE! Fuckigg – HTSHHCHUE!”

Greyson pulled a few tissues out of the box on their desk and blew his nose, thoroughly spent. This is hell, he thought, putting his head in his hands. I’ve died and gone straight to fucking hell.

He considered maybe just crawling under the desk right then and there, cocooning until he was no longer the walking plague, when someone quietly rapped on the door.

Go away, Greyson thought, but whoever it was opened the door before he could say anything. When he looked up, Elijah was standing over him, a look of confused worry on his face.

“Um,” he said, stepping into the office and closing the door behind him. “Are you...ok?”

Greyson felt his face flame once again, his embarrassment near-palpable. Was he okay? Did he look okay? Did he sound okay? For the first time all day, Greyson felt something other than the depth of his illness; he felt livid.

“Yeah, boss,” he snorted, making himself cough hard into his arm. He sucked in through his nose and stood to tower over Elijah, his watering eyes glaring daggers. “I’mb great.”

Greyson pushed past his boss, threw open the door, and headed straight into the deep frezzer to take some breaths and collect himself. The frigid air was a slap in the face, and it gave him the clarity he needed. He may not even be a blip on his boss’s radar; that was fine. He would work even harder, then – make his name even quicker and get the hell out of Elliot’s as soon as was humanly possible. Get the fuck away from this restaurant and its haughty, clueless, thoughtless owner.

The chef pulled himself together as much as he could and stepped out of the freezer. Elijah was, of course, standing right outside the walk-in.

“Chef,” he said quickly, clearly attempting to get his point across before Greyson pushed past him again. “You could’ve told me if you’re sick – I mean, I could’ve called in backup, or closed reservations…” he looked up at Greyson then, apology plastered all over his face. Greyson wasn’t taking the bait.

“Too late ndow,” he mumbled, checking his watch. “Service starts in an hour. Please; I dond’t have timbe for this.”

Once again, Greyson pushed past his boss. He made his way back to the prep table and picked his knife up, before regarding Matt.

“Tell mbe what you ndeed from mbe.”

***

Service was, to put it lightly, hell.

The forty top had gone fine, as well as could’ve been expected, and fortunately there weren’t any problems or send-backs, but Greyson was in absolute agony the entire time. He couldn’t breathe, his voice was mangled from shouting orders, and he was pretty sure he’d infected his entire staff with the insane amount of sneezing he’d done.

The moment the last ticket was stabbed, Greyson put a hand on Matt’s back and said, “You’re up. I ndeed to sit down like...now.”

Matt nodded in understanding and stepped up to the line to make sure the cooks started breaking everything down. Greyson, alternatively, tripped into the office and immediately put his throbbing head into his hands and let loose the coughing fit he’d held back the last four hours.

In the midst of coughing, Greyson heard someone quietly enter the office and sit in the chair next to him. Then he heard something else; a paper cup being placed on the desk next to him. Greyson looked up to see Elijah sitting beside him, quiet. Greyson sighed.

“I’ll pack mby shidt,” he said, rubbing an aching eye with his palm. “I’mb sure you already have sombeone lined up, but I’d be happy to spend a day just showing themb the ropes or whatev -”

Greyson was cut up by his boss reaching up mid-sentence and placing a cool hand on his forehead. Greyson couldn’t help it; he closed his eyes in relief.

“You’re burning up, Greyson,” Elijah said quietly. “Have you had a fever all day?”

The chef wasn’t sure what to say. He shrugged. “I guess,” he said quietly, his boss’s hand still on his forehead. Elijah pursed his lips and took his hand away. Unsure what to do with it, he pushed the cup closer to Greyson.

“Tea,” he said, as if it wasn’t obvious. Greyson couldn’t help but huff out a laugh.

“Okay,” he said, taking the cup. They both sat in silence for another moment, which was only broken by Greyson’s breath hitching for the millionth time that day. “Huhh..hhhNGTSHH-ue! Guhhh.” Greyson grabbed the last couple of tissues out of the box and blew his nose, miserably.

“Bless you,” Elijah said, clearly still unsure what else to say.

“Thangks,” Greyson said, crumpling the tissue and looking back at his boss. “So...am I ndot fired then?”

Elijah chuckled and looked up at Greyson again. “You’re not fired.”

“Okay,” Greyson said again.

After another beat, Elijah blurted out, “I’m sorry. Greyson, I’m really, really sorry.”

Greyson wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Umb,” he said, brilliantly. “Okay.”

“Sometimes I’m just, like, in my own world, y’know? The restaurant...it’s all-consuming, man. I’m always fuckin’ worried about it, and it just gets exhausting. I wish I had more patience and was, like, more...observant. But,” he shrugged. “I’m just...not. So I’m sorry. I’ll try harder.” Elijah sighed, post-speech, and gave Greyson a small smile. “And I’m sorry you’re so fucking sick. You look like hell.”

Greyson set his jaw then, and looked down. He was absolutely not about to let his boss see him tear up, especially not at something so fucking stupid. Instead, he took the cup of tea and sipped it slowly. “I appreciate it, boss,” he whispered. “I’mb, uh… I’mb ndot feeling awesome.” He looked up, having composed himself, and gave Elijah a loopy half-smile. “Long day. Late ndight.”

Elijah smiled back and patted the chef’s knee. “Take the weekend. Okay?”

Greyson swallowed painfully and nodded. “Okay, boss,” he said. “Whatever you say.”

[so-many-fandoms-here]

(English isn’t my first language so feel free to correct any mistake you notice.)

• Characters: Takatora Samura (Last Boss), fem!Reader

• Genre: Angst, fluff (turned out more fluff that I intended)

• Warnings: detailed description of death and decay, talking about the meaning of life

Angst Prompts - #8

Ⱄⱄ. .ⱄⰔ Ⱄⱄ. .ⱄⰔ Ⱄⱄ. .ⱄⰔ Ⱄⱄ. .ⱄⰔ

Since I came into this world I saw and felt absolutely everything. I saw people laughing like maniacs right before a laser shot trough their head. Saw people crying about still being alive and how they prayed for their death or the courage to end it themselves. I saw craziness, hope and despair. And I felt all of it too. I cried and laughed, I mourned and partied, I felt how sanity and craziness alternated my brain and I felt how grateful and yet unappreciative I was for being alive. It felt like my brain was eating itself.

Back in the real world, living always felt like a burden. You were alive because you had to. I was sick of it and longed for a change. Now life was a privilege and I still didn’t know how to feel about it. Do I want to go back? Or do I want do find the meaning of life here? Questions over questions flooded my brain and just as I thought I was about to drown in them I met him.

Last Boss was a skinny guy with lots of tattoos covering his body. He looked impenetrable and always had a katana with him.

He understood me. He was like a drain to my overflowing head and our talks helped me to empty out the water soaked dizziness my brain was drowning in.

One night I talked to myself as I sat on the rooftop, hoping if I ask my questions out loud some intention of mine would answer me. „What is life all about?“

Instead of getting an answer by my intentions, the stars, god or whatever, Last Boss answered me. „I never figured it out. But since I am here, I feel like I am closer to the answer.“

Maybe it was fate. We both went upstairs regularly but somehow we always missed each other. But tonight, with my head heavier than usual by all the stuff around me, he suddenly was there.

Since then we met up almost every evening to talk. I never had so honest and deep conversations with anyone else before and for the first time it felt like someone gets me, that I don’t seem crazy. We talked about our lives before and what we wanted to leave behind, about the definition of good and evil, about how moral codes doesn’t exist in this world and how life becomes a deeper meaning here. Last Boss was determined to stay here until the very end, I for my part was still unsure, but the imagination to stay and have this conversations with him until one of us died sounded surprisingly tempting. I know that I fell for him at the worst time possible but what I also know is that I wouldn’t trade what we have with anything in the world. It seemed more meaningful than anything I’ve experienced before.

„Are you afraid to die?“, I asked him one night as we once again lay next to each other in bed, another ritual we started one day without any particular reason.

„No“, he simply replied. „Are you?“ I thought about it for a second before answering. „I don’t know“, I say. „Probably. But not more than I am afraid of living.“ Another statement any other person would‘ve called me crazy for, but not Last Boss.

„I really like you, you know“, I admitted after we both went silent for a while. „You do?“, he asked, nervousness painting his voice. „I do“ I reassure. „Not a good time for things like this. Or maybe it is, I don’t know. I just wanted to let you know. You get me, you know.“

His hand touched mine and quickly linked its fingers with mine. „What do you think happens after we die?“

Another question I have to think about. I’ve asked myself this a couple of times but never really came to a conclusion. „I don’t know“, I said again.

„I think we will become one with the earth“, Last Boss whispered, brushing his thumb over my hand. „I like that“, I admitted with a smile. „That would make us being of use.“

The tattooed man let go of my hand and turned on his side to look at me. „What do you mean?“ I rolled on my side too and looked into his eyes. „If we don’t get cremated our bodies will rot away, feeding the worms and the ground. Our death will be compost for new life to begin and spread.“

„That‘s beautiful“, Last Boss whispered. Other people would frown and call him sick for viewing this morbid fantasy as beautiful, but I nodded confirming. „Yeah. Maybe that’s the meaning behind life.“ „To die and create room and resources for new life. To keep the cycle upright.“, he finished my thoughts.

The dim light shined through the window on his face, lighting it up just enough for me to see his dark orbs that stare right into mine. My hand brushed over his cheek while I can’t help but to smile. He placed his hand over mine to make sure I wouldn’t move it away, then he whispered: „I don’t care about the time.“ Obviously picking up my on my confession again.

My smile got even wider as I brushed with my thumb softly over his lips. Then I got closer to him and pressed my lips on his. And again. And again.