#i haven't figured out how to make the alarm work yet but i'll manage

[silverynight]

Crime lord

Dark fic

***

It's late when Tanjirou finds himself in a predicament; he always walks back home when his work shift is over and is ready to buy some food for his sister.

However, the streets he has to walk on are usually dangerous; Tanjirou has learned to avoid the men and women who gather around certain spots, but sometimes they see him. He knows he's not someone that can catch their attention, but some days they're a little bit bored...

Today is one of those days. At first Tanjirou tries to ignore them even though he knows they're following him, then he tries to run, but they manage to corner him easily. There are other people around, some of them are just passing by and they all know what's going on, but Tanjirou knows none of them will help him and he honestly he doesn't blame them.

Tanjirou knows how to fight (he had to learn in order to protect his sister and himself) but he knows he's no match for six people.

They ask for money and even though it was for his and Nezuko's dinner, he knows it's more important to come back home to her.

He tries to offer it to them, but they push him against the nearest wall anyway; he presses his lips together not to mention anything about his sister, but tries to persuade them to take the money and let him go.

One of them hits him on the stomach, but Tanjirou doesn't make any sounds of pain; he's not sure if they're waiting for him to show any signs of weakness or not.

After Tanjirou gets hit a couple of times, a brave soul walks in the alleyway; Tanjirou tries to tell him to go, that it's not worth it to try to save him, but the shadow keeps walking towards them.

When he walks into the light, Tanjirou realizes the man doesn't actually belong there, he's not sure what he's doing in that part of the city. His hair looks like flames: blond and red, his eyes almost shine in the darkness. He looks wealthy; he wears a black suit that has dark red flames painted on his sleeves and Tanjirou can see there's a katana attached to his belt.

A little bit dizzy, Tanjirou falls to the ground as soon as the ones holding him let him go, they gather around the newcomer and Tanjirou tries to stand to help him, but suddenly, they all are running away.

He's not sure what happened.

"Are you alright?" Kneeling so close to him, Tanjirou realizes that the man is actually young, but still clearly older than himself.

"Yes," Tanjirou nods, even though his chin hurts. "Thank you."

"Don't worry, I'll find them and deal with them later," the stranger assures him, moving closer and placing a hand on Tanjirou's cheek. "I'll take you home first."

Before Tanjirou can figure out what's going on, the man scoops him up, carrying him easily in his arms.

"No! There's no need! I can walk on my own," Tanjirou assures him. "You have done too much for me already!"

"Let me help you," he smiles back, pressing his forehead against Tanjirou's. For some reason he knows that there's no point in trying to convince the man to let him go.

"Alright," he agrees.

The building where Nezuko and he live looks like is about to fall, he knows that, which is why it doesn't surprise him when the man glances at it with a worried expression. He parks his expensive car in front and carries Tanjirou up the stairs where a worried Nezuko is already waiting at the other side of the door.

She looks alarmed at the sight, but Tanjirou explains quickly what happened while the man sits him on a chair carefully, almost like he's afraid to break Tanjirou.

"Thanks for saving my brother, uhh, sir..."

"Oh, sorry! How rude of me! I haven't introduced myself yet!" He smiles; he's a little bit loud and full of energy, but Tanjirou has decided that he likes him. "I'm Rengoku Kyojuro."

"Kamado Tanjirou," the redhead mumbles, gesturing to himself. "And this is Nezuko."

"It's a pleasure to meet you!" Rengoku says, kneeling in front of Tanjirou's chair, narrowing his eyes as soon as he notices the bruises and cuts on his face. "Nezuko, do you have something here to patch your brother up?"

"Of course!"

"Rengoku-san, you don't have to–"

"It's alright, Tanjirou," he cuts him off, cradling his face and stroking his cheeks with his thumbs. "I want to do this."

Nezuko is watching them while Rengoku takes care of Tanjirou's wounds. She has a very intense expression on her face, like she always does whenever she wants to figure something out.

"This place is not safe," Rengoku blurts out suddenly.

"I know, but we can't move out... At least not now," Tanjirou tries to explain. He suddenly feels bad for not having a better place for his sister...

"I'd like to take you to my house," Rengoku says. Tanjirou is already thinking about how generous he is while Nezuko, on the other hand, frowns at him. "I understand if you don't trust me yet. But at least let me help you. I can also find you a better place right now. An apartment for the two of you."

Tanjirou knows Nezuko and right now she looks like she's about to refuse, but then she gets a glimpse of all the scratches and bruises on Tanjirou's face.

"Okay... Although I think we'll take the apartment," she mumbles.

It's easy to leave the room, they don't have many things, the furniture wasn't even theirs so they quickly pack everything up.

Tanjirou almost regrets it when they arrive at the new building, it's obvious that part of the city is for rich people...

"Rengoku-san..."

"Don't worry about it, my boy," he makes a dismissive gesture at him before getting out of the car, carrying him towards the entrance as Nezuko follows them close, looking around in awe.

A man is waiting for them outside the apartment, a man who bows as soon as he sees Rengoku, opens the door for them and helps the siblings with their suitcases.

Rengoku leaves Tanjirou on a couch, kisses him on the top of his head before heading outside to talk to the man who immediately nods and gives him something before leaving.

"These are your keys now," Rengoku says, before handing them to Nezuko.

"Rengoku-san... I don't think I have enough money to pay for the rent right now–"

"Don't worry about it, Tanjirou," he cuts him off, grinning at him. "We'll talk about it later. Now you need to rest."

"Thank you," the redhead mumbles sincerely before pulling Rengoku into a hug. "Really... Thank you for everything!"

"It's my pleasure," he whispers back, before turning to press a kiss on Tanjirou's cheek. He then nods at Nezuko before saying: "Goodnight."

His sister looks at the door even after Rengoku leaves and frowns like she's trying to think about something.

Someone knocks an hour later (startling them a little) and brings them food, assuring them it's already payed for.

They eat, although Tanjirou is not sure if this is not some sort of a weird dream. Well, he knows it wouldn't hurt that much if it was.

***

It doesn't take long for Rengoku to convince Tanjirou to accept a job at a small flower shop he owns; even though Nezuko doesn't say it out loud, she's relieved knowing Tanjirou has stopped working at that bar.

They meet Senjuro a couple of weeks later, he's about Nezuko's age and quickly becomes really good friends with her. Which is the main reason why the girl agrees to go to a private school (the same one as Senjuro) instead of the one she was studying at.

Although sometimes Nezuko worries and talks about it with Tanjirou late at night, before they go to sleep.

"I don't know... I just... I don't want to owe him... He's done a lot for us. It's too much..."

"I have a stable job now," Tanjirou assures her with a hopeful grin. "I'll pay Rengoku-san for everything eventually."

Nezuko narrows her eyes and bites her bottom lip like she's stopping herself from saying something else.

"Tanjirou... He's rich. I think he has more money than we are aware of," she whispers. "I don't think he wants money in return."

"What do you mean?" Tanjirou says, genuinely confused.

Her head turns towards the big bouquet of flowers in the middle of the dinning table.

Tanjirou blushes, remembering that moment; Rengoku walked in the flower shop with a huge grin on his face and both hands on his back. Kocho (the woman who works with Tanjirou, his boss actually) rolled her eyes and said something about having to make a flower crown in the back room before leaving them alone.

As if he wasn't the owner of the shop, Rengoku payed Tanjirou for a bouquet of red roses. He took them and waited until the end of Tanjirou's shift to give them to him before taking him back to the apartment.

"Those were a gift," he finds himself saying, smiling softly, cheeks bright red.

"I think he's in love with you, Tanjirou."

The thought makes him fuzzy and warm inside, but he knows that's not possible; it's true that Rengoku has done a lot for them, but that doesn't mean he loves him like that.

"We're friends."

"He's taken you out to dinner more than once," Nezuko points out.

Tanjirou remembers each and every single one of those evenings... Rengoku always insists on paying for everything and takes him to really expensive places... Although Tanjirou always has a great time with him.

"But–"

"He never asks me to go with you, it's always just you and him," she chuckles, like that's enough proof.

"That's because you're usually busy doing homework with Senjuro," Tanjirou mumbles, feeling a little bit flustered.

"Listen, Senjuro is a great friend and I adore him, but sometimes I think he purposely distracts me so his big brother can take you on dates..."

"They're not dates!" Tanjirou assures her, blushing to the tip of his ears.

Nezuko rolls her eyes, sighs and takes both of Tanjirou's hands in hers.

"I'm sure he loves you. I've seen it in his eyes every time he comes here and stays with us for a while. That's okay. If you love him back it's fine with me. But... I just... Sometimes I worry because we really don't know much about him or his family. I mean how does he get all that money?"

"Nezuko, he has the flower shop–"

"Tell me, Tanjirou. Do you honestly believe all his money comes from that small shop? Look at his suits! Each of them must've costed a fortune! And I'm not gonna even mention his car..."

"Maybe he has more businesses," Tanjirou says, feeling the sudden need to defend Rengoku. "He doesn't have to tell us everything about his life."

Nezuko sighs, but relaxes a little bit.

"You know what? You're right! I feel like I'm being really ungrateful... He's done a lot for us and I'm here trying to tell you not to trust him!" Nezuko mumbles, looking like she really regrets it. "I'm sorry, it's just... I worry about you and since he's very much interested in you l–"

"Don't worry, Nezuko," Tanjirou leans to pull her closer to his chest into a tight hug. "Rengoku-san is a good person. We'll be fine."

"Yeah, we'll be fine."

***

Shinobu watches amusedly as Kyojuro looks with a pleased smile to the most expensive engagement ring she's ever seen in her life. It has rubies and a couple of yellow diamonds on it, the colors of the Rengoku family.

Because Tanjirou, that sweet young man she pretends to work with in that flower shop, is going to become a Rengoku soon. Kyojuro is not good at being subtle (and it seems he doesn't want to) and she knew the moment he brought Tanjirou to the shop that he was completely in love with him.

"When?" She asks, knowing that she doesn't need to specify.

Kyojuro's smile becomes impossibly wide.

"As soon as possible. Probably on our next date."

"Are you going to tell him?" Shinobu asks, curious. She'd be afraid to ask such a dangerous question if it wasn't for the fact that she considers Kyojuro something like a friend of sorts, even though she's basically an assassin that works for him.

It's weird how the universe works; Shinobu thought Kyojuro was going to marry someone in his own circle, someone who already knew the dangers of being with a crime lord who owns half of the city.

But to be fair, she had never seen him interested in anyone... Until now.

"Tanjirou doesn't need to know about this," Kyojuro says, smile quickly vanishing from his face. Of course he won't tell him. Tanjirou is a sunshine, Shinobu is almost sure he wouldn't agree to marry someone like Kyojuro. He's too innocent; he doesn't like when people get hurt and tries to help as many people as he can. He even told Shinobu once that he had forgiven the people who attacked him. He just wished they didn't hurt anyone else. "I'll make sure he doesn't find out."

Shinobu is sure Kyojuro would never hurt Tanjirou, but she's not so sure about those around him, especially if they try to tell him the truth about Kyojuro.

"Did you find the ones who hurt him?"

"I dealt with most of them," she nods. "But I left the one who punched him to you."

This time, the smile on Kyojuro's face is not sweet or full of love like the one he always has whenever he talks about Tanjirou, this grin is terrifying.

"How generous of you, Shinobu," he says, satisfied. "I need to make sure he suffers for the things he did to my Tanjirou. And also turn his body into a warning so no one touches what is mine again."

With a fond smile on his lips, Kyojuro takes the ring back into its case and Shinobu is just really glad that Tanjirou doesn't have a boyfriend or girlfriend... Otherwise they'd be in serious danger...

At least she knows Tanjirou and his sister will be safe, even though they're under the protection of the most dangerous man in the whole city.

***

Patreon

[marx-soul]

he's on my desktop

[slut-for-mothman]

Hell is For Children

Requested: Yes|No

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid

A/N: Special thanks to @oliverbrnch for editing this chapter and making it into what is is !!! I hope you all enjoy my first CM fanfiction !!!

Summary: After 13 years of trying to forget the man he was supposed to call his father, Spencer finds his phone riddled with messages from his father trying to catch up on "old times". He's met with criticism and shame when he reveals he has no want to talk to him. Everyone seems to think his father deserves a second chance. Everyone except for him. Aaron Hotchner. Logically it made no sense, Aaron had a kid of his own, would he not sympathize with his father for wanting to have a relationship with his son? Spencer finds comfort in the older man. Everytime his phone buzzes with a notification from William Reid, Aaron is always there to comfort him and distract him from the burning hole in his back pocket.

Chapter warnings: Angst, allusions to physical abuse. descriptions of violence and gore, swearing, and I think that's it.

Chapter One

December 16th, 5:15pm

"Hey son, I haven't seen or heard from you in a while. I hope you're doing okay."

Seeing that message was enough to twist the young doctors stomach in such intricate and painful knots he thought he might become violently ill.

"A while?" Spencer muttered to himself as he reread the message over and over. "it's been thirteen years, that's more than a while-"

A second message interrupted his train of thought.

December 16th, 5:27pm

"Why don't you come over sometime? My wife would love to see you, just something to think about..."

This message made something inside him break, the world shattering as his knees failed him. He swore he felt time stop as he reread those nauseating characters.

Wife? Since when was he remarried?

'Does she even know what he did to my mom, to me?' Spencer wondered, unable to tear his eyes away from his phone.

Does she even know she left a ten-year-old alone with his mentally-ill mother? Did she know what a selfish bastard he was?

Did they have kids?

Were they really that easily replaced?

Spencers mind was spinning, his apartment floor unsteady underfoot as his vision blurred. Tears stung his eyes, threatening to slip down his cheeks if he dared to blink.

His misery was interrupted as his phone buzzed once more in his palm.

Thankfully, it wasn't from the dreaded unsaved number, just Hotch.

December 16th, 7:14pm

"We have a case."

Spencer gathered his things, wiping the tears from his eyes on the cuff of his sleeve. He'd never been more grateful to hear those four words in his entire life.

His ride on the metro felt infinitely slower than normal, much to the young doctors dismay. The extra free time gave his mind permission to run away from his as much as it pleased.

His phone vibrated again and again with more messages from the unsaved number, each one more hostile and manipulative than the next when Spencer glanced at the device.

December 16th, 7:23pm

"Will you at least give me an answer? I know I screwed up, but that was a long time ago! I have a right to get to know my son."

December 16th, 7:25pm

"Imagine how I feel, not knowing my son has 3 PhD's and having to find out from my ex-wifes nurse. You're not the only one suffering here kid, remember that."

Spencer snapped his battered phone shut in frustration.

How did he even manage to make himself out to be the victim in this?

He's the one who left me.

'I don't owe him shit, not after what he did to me', Spencer thought furiously to himself, his knuckles white where they gripped his messenger bag.

'Maybe I should give him some kind of answer, let him know where he can stick-'

By the time the sentence popped into his head, his chest aching, he had reached his stop. Although cases weren't particularly a positive thing, anything was better than thinking about the man who had abandoned him and, subsequently, essentially ruined his entire life.

As soon as he stepped off the elevator and into the bullpen, he could feel his co-workers' eyes pierce right through him. It was almost like they could sense something was off with him the moment he entered Quantico.

Of course, while they were profilers, it's not like they were mind-readers.

He fled to the break room and poured himself a generous cup of coffee. He wanted to focus on what was important, which was certainly not the unread messages from a fetid man on his cellphone.

While pouring practically the entire container of sugar into his travel mug, he felt someone's hand touch his shoulder. He flinched slightly at the unexpected touch, and he turned to see Morgan, his eyebrows scrunched together in a confused and worried look.

"Slow down, kid. Have some coffee with your sugar." He said, his voice half-joking as he, presumably, tried to ease the tension practically emitting off of Spencer.

His phone vibrated once more from somewhere in his pockets, and Spencer's face twisted in fervent discomfort.

"Earth to Pretty Boy. You good?"

Spencer realized he was getting absorbed into his thoughts again and tried to brush it off with a quick sip of the sickly-sweet caffeinated concoction in his hand and a quick nod.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking." as if Spencer ever stopped thinking in the first place.

"Well, I'm here if you need anything, kid. But for right now, let's go find out about this case." Derek clapped Spencer on the shoulder again, which earned an instinctual flinch.

Instead of dwelling on that, Derek and Spencer strode towards the conference room, where everyone else had already begun piling in ad Garcia and Prentiss introduced them to their present case.

"Three men were found dead on the streets of a Nevada strip mall last night," Garcia began, pulling up the crime scene photos onto the screen.

Spencer flipped through the folder that was handed to him, scanning over the photos while distantly listening to the rather gruesome but ultimately unhelpful details Prentiss and Garcia were describing.

All three men had one of their fingers removed, yet their wedding bands were later found in their stab wounds upon closer investigation. They were all three found in close proximity to different hotels and known "lover's lanes".

The incessant vibrations and noise emitting from the dreaded device in his pocket was enough to make Spencer have a brain aneurysm.

He retrieved the phone from his pocket only to switch it off and shove it into the deep depths of his messenger bag. It wasn't necessary for a plane ride anyway.

His sudden movements earned him a few more concerned glances, but their attention was quickly diverted as Prentiss announced, "Wheels up in 30." effectively dismissing the team to get their things.

Spencer was restless the entire plane ride. It was only thirty minutes into the trip, with an hour and ten minutes left.

Normally, he'd be playing chess or even reading, but neither of those things seemed to tempt him, as all he could think of were the numerous messages probably flooding his discarded phone banished to the bottom of his messenger bag.

The last message he'd read replayed repeatedly in his mind like some awful alarm.

'Imagine how I feel...'

It made fiery anger swirl in his chest.

He could imagine how he felt. Because the pain William Reid inflicted before he finally left was enough to make Spencer understand what it was like to be sent to Hell and back, if such a place existed.

The memory of watching his own father leave his house at age 10 was enough to make him feel nauseous. His father leaving was the final stake through the young man's heart.

The physical pain, he could probably forgive him for. He would never forget, but maybe he could understand.

But leaving your young on to care for his mentally-ill mother? After all the pain he put him through, that kick while Spencer was already down was a new low.

For all Spencer cared, the man could rot. It was almost funny, thirteen years of healing down the drain with just a few text messages.

Once again, Spencer was ripped from his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder, It was Hotch, with a guarded but concerned look on his face.

"You've been way too quiet; is everything alright?"

'No', Spencer thought to himself. But he couldn't admit he wasn't okay, especially not before a case. More important things needed to be tended for than his own "daddy issues".

"I'll be okay," Spencer settled for. "Just some weird stuff has been happening lately. It's nothing I can't take care of, though."

It didn't dissuade Hotch's concerned look. If anything, it intensified the worry Spencer found there.

"Is it your mother? Is she alright?" He asked, leaning forward with furrowed eyebrows.

"She's okay! I actually just called her the other night," Spencer assured him. He bit his lip and gripped his messenger bag. "It's actually, uh, my dad. He's been messaging me, and I haven't spoken to him in thirteen years."

"Are you okay? Have you messaged him back any?" Hotch asked, releasing the worried lines on his forehead.

"I haven't, yet. I figured I'd wait until the case was over. That way, there's nothing in the way." Spencer explained, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as his eyes darted around the jet cabin.

Hotch must have picked up the signal to wrap up the conversation, because he gently reminded the young man that he could talk to him whenever he needs to, or just whenever he wants to.

Spencer smiled and inclined his head slightly. "Thanks, Hotch."

"It's not a problem, Reid. Now, let's get back to work."

Spencer flicked through the gruesome photos once more, the swirling anger in his chest dwindling for the first time since his phone at first pinged with that dreaded message.

For once, Spencer was able to completely forget about the slightly outdated phone burning a hole in the bottom of his messenger bag.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 19

First time reader click here

Summary+TWs: We're talking serious feelings here, okay? Reader, you're literally emotionally illiterate. You also have PTSD, which is finally addressed - kinda. Bruce does his best. And he also knows how to kiss... But y'all know that if you read my ramblings about lucid dreaming/shifting/whatever... Chile-, anyways...

My phone kept buzzing and I ignored it until Bruce declared it was time to take a break and review the results. Whilst the man was typing up the data on a nearby StarkPad, I fought the sudden influx of messages that I received from haters and supporters alike after Tony decided on tweeting a reply that could be interpreted in an alarming variety of ways. It was a smart move, I'll admit, but a fucking bother for me nonetheless.

Disabling my DMs and dealing with a follower increase in the thousands wasn't hard; I didn't consider myself a problematic asshole and didn't need to be afraid of "exposure". The parties I went to - I doubted there was any blackmail material in there and the few nudes I'd sent over the years were always face-less. As a gen Z, I knew my internet safety.

The trolls didn't bother me either. It was more sad than annoying, people shitting on others for clout. Iron Man stans were witty, at least, if jealous. I must admit I've never considered the influx of popularity I would experience should I publicly out myself as a friend of Tony's. Girlfriend? Intern? Science child? Whatever cover story he was going to feed the press worked for me, as long as I still got the hugs, the kisses, the dick and the attention.

"Tony..." Bruce groaned, evidently done with the data processing, had to have opened his social media to see his own skyrocketing popularity.

"Yeah, our Tony is being a Tony again," I chuckled, having reset my social media settings so my phone wouldn't constantly beep, vibrate and bother me. School was going to be fun.

Bruce shook his head, fond, coming over to my side of the lab after removing his own hazmat suit. His eyes shiny with newfound knowledge and hair turned adorably fluffy in the confines of the head covering. He was smiling softly. "Food?"

"Sure."

We chewed our sandwiches in silence for a moment, each of us lost in our thoughts.

"I still can't believe Tony told everyone on Twitter you're his girlfriend, usually he keeps this stuff private or schedules a fancy press conference," Bruce's tone was thoughtful.

I raised an eyebrow. "Is that what it was? Seemed ambiguous to me..." I trailed off, confused.

"He worded it like that on purpose, I mean, you're still in high school," The scientist was confident in his words. "But I know Tony. I'm a hundred percent sure that he meant exactly that. Aren't you?"

Shock flooded me. Suddenly, I understood I completely misread the situation. "Um, no? I thought we were, y'know, just fucking. We never defined our relationship and we're definitely not exclusive." I said, chewing on my lip. "You make a valid argument, I'm a high school student and he's a grown ass man that does grown man stuff. Putting aside the fact that he could have anybody in the world so why would he choose me?" I was rambling, thinking out loud. Discussing my feelings has never my strong forte. "It would be stupid to impose monogamy on such a complex man like Tony. Downright idiotic to expect a genius to confine to social norms just because it suits others." I finished with a wave of my hand. Another bubble of thought that had festered within me for the longest time. I felt relieved, finally voicing it out loud. A weight had been lifted off my shoulders, a weight I wasn't previously consciously aware of.

Bruce was watching me intently, with an unreadable expression that held the tiniest bit of awe, admiration perhaps. The silence that followed was unnerving. I fidgeted with my hands, not really knowing where to put them or where to look.

"You know," He took off his glasses, fiddling them in his hands. "I'm not going to sugar coat it. For the longest time, I thought you were going to inadvertently hurt him when you get bored with whatever you've got going on. I respect you, don't misunderstand me, but you are young. Now, I've changed my mind. You've changed my mind," He punctuated his statement with his hand on mine, grasping it. "I think you managed to understand him in a way most people can't. Or don't want to. Understand and accept him in a way that some of us can't even after years of working and living side by side with him." Bruce's gentle fingers skimmed along the top of my palm.

"I don't always understand Tony but I do accept him," I agreed. "Because Tony is a great man."

"I think you're in love with him," Bruce said, absolutely having ignored my previous statement. Just like that, point blank, he pushed to the surface the very feelings I got so good at ignoring. There was no rest for me in this place.

My heart fluttered, picking up the pace. I kept my mouth shut, not trusting it whatsoever. My thoughts became akin to panicked hares, jumping and zigzagging aimlessly in my skull. I didn't see the point in defending myself because the scientist had pointed out the obvious.

Bruce looked at me, softly, warmly. "And don't think we haven't noticed the rise in team morale. The improvement not only in communication, but on the battlefield, too. It's easier to entrust your back to someone with whom you've shared a laugh and a drink the previous night. You're the glue that keeps us together."

Something warm and wet was on my cheeks. I stared at our clasped hands, his words echoing in my head over and over and over. The moment I realized I was crying, I willed myself to stop and failed spectacularly - only more salty fluid streamed down, some of it getting in my nose, on my lips. The sleepless nights were making me unstable.

It took a single sniffle for Bruce to pick me up and wrap up in his kind embrace. I didn't resist, tucking my face into the crook of his neck, holding onto the back of his lab coat, inhaling the smell of his skin and chemicals. It was familiar, calming. Minutes ticked by with me slowly leaking the tension out of my body.

"He loves you, too, maybe he just doesn't realize it yet." Bruce whispered into my hair. "I've never seen Tony so happy, even with Pepper. You are special and you are loved."

There was something unsaid, I felt it. It hung in the ear, it burned the tips of my ears, stood sharp on the tip of my tongue. "I love you too, Bwucie-bear," I whispered into the space between his ear and his jaw. His arms tightened around me.

The man placed several chaste kisses in my hair, running a palm over my back. In moments like these, the crush for him, the very crush that got out of control, blossomed fully into a deep sense of respect and admiration. He made me feel safe. He said all the right words at the right time.

Drowsiness overtook me. As usual, any worries and anxieties I had evaporated, once Banner had his arms around me, shielding me from the world. I didn't forbid myself this time: delicately, my hand slipped through the man's soft messy curls, eliciting a contented sigh.

"You haven't been sleeping well," He more stated than asked.

I had no choice but to nod. "Clint keeps dying in my dreams. Or even worse, he doesn't, he just suffers, endlessly, painfully." I admitted.

Bruce flinched under me, tensing. My face was in between his hands in a second, the scientist sternly looking into my eyes. "Why didn't you say anything? All of us assumed you were okay after what happened." He looked - angry. Not Hulk-out pissed but Bruce-pissed, which equalled a kicked-puppy look seasoned with a great pinch of disappointment.

"I am okay." I lied, shamelessly. "It's getting better. That's why I want to have a party - relax a little, dance, socialize. I don't think Tony would let me go on my own so I figured I can convince him to throw one here." I looked away. It was better for everyone if I dealt with my own problems - they were superheroes, not babysitters.

Bruce frowned. "Why wouldn't Tony let you go?"

"Because of that one time I snorted coke," I rolled my eyes at Bruce's naiveté, leaving the less obvious parts unsaid. Tony knew exactly what I was going to do once I got free reign, he considered it destructive and told me so himself. Admittedly, he had a point but still... I wished I'd been given a choice.

"I'll talk to him," Bruce nodded firmly. "That's not acceptable. He can't forbid you from making mistakes and learning from them."

He was met with my shrug. No excitement came from me regarding this particular turn of conversation. I was drained, limbs like jello, thoughts sluggish. My face was drooping.

"Let's get you to bed," Banner stood up with me wrapped around him. "You need a nap."

"No," I protested. If I went to sleep now, only Satan knew at what ungodly hour I would wake up.

"Yes, Princess," Bruce smirked. I wiggled uncomfortably - when he went all caretaker like, my ovaries wreaked havoc on my body and brain. My thoughts weren't appropriate if Bruce wanted me to see him as a father figure. The signals he was sending were mixed. People around me did that a lot and I wasn't sure how to act so I usually just went with the flow. I decided to do the very same thing in that particular moment.

Curiosity sparked within me, tightly interwoven with the deep longing that settled below my collarbones whenever Tony or one of the others wasn't sitting next to me or talking my ear off. I've almost forgotten how it was to be alone with my thoughts. The maze of my very own self was becoming unfamiliar territory. Alarming.

I allowed Bruce to help me shed my shoes and outer layer of clothing, shivering in the coolness of my room. Despite being a frequent visitor, I still had a 'guest' room in the tower - I mostly stayed at Tony's or Wanda's anyways. During our sleepovers neither me nor the witch minded sharing her enormous bed, to be fair, we could have fit at least two more people in it besides us. Tony took care of his own - all the tower's residents had their apartments furnished with the best stuff.

"Sleep now, Princess," Bruce chastised, tucking a blanket around me, having noticed an earbud in my ear and my smartphone in my hand. I had hoped to kill some time online, damn well knowing sleep wouldn't come easy.

"I don't think I can fall asleep, Bruce," I admitted, looking away. There was just so much going on. My brain wouldn't shut up and if I couldn't drown out the cacophony by being productive, I'd troll the internet, as usual.

Banner sighed, coming to sit next to me, leaning against the headboard. Gently running his fingers through my hair, brushing the outside of his palm against my cheek. "How do you usually deal with this?"

Involuntarily, my eyelashes fluttered. "Tony does most of the work," I admitted coyly. The engineer had a whole arsenal of tricks up his sleeve - sexy and exhausting tricks.

"I see," Bruce muttered, thoughtfully.

I opened my eyes to see him looking down at me with a look I haven't seen before. The usual mildly absent, slightly anxious face he wore was replaced by something I could only describe as hurt envy, like a kid looking at their schoolmate who had all the newest, coolest toys. I used to be on the receiving end of that look far too often and I hated it.

I hid my face against his leg, rubbing my cheek on the raspy corduroy fabric of his pants. "Got any good ideas of your own?" I wondered lowly, thinking about what in the world possessed Bruce to wear corduroy trousers on a semi-casual day, in the twenty-first century.

"Only bad ideas," He replied in a matching low tone. His soft fingertips relocated to my nape, goosebumps rising down my back.

"Humour me," I grinned against his leg.

Bruce was quiet for a moment, the sound of his thinking screaming louder than any words could have done. Knowing the scientist so closely, I found out he was full of surprises - bolder than he appeared outwardly and competitive to a boot. He thought he had a lot to prove to himself and by extension, to others. The unknown, the mystery dangling in front of my nose was exhilarating, trepidation addictive. It took me away from the chaos in my mind.

A gentle grasp on my chin had me turning to look upwards, Bruce's face flushed and focused on my own, open and trusting. He needed to see the obvious, that I trusted him to take care of me. He pulled and I followed, sitting up on my elbows, coming up to his shoulder level, our faces inches apart, enveloped in the unique, intense scent of his herbal tea. It was a tart, strong smell and it suited his quiet but passionate character.

Once, twice, I caught my eyes sliding to his plump lips. They looked far too appealing in this position. I usually strategically stayed away from positions so compromising, fearing the very thing that I'd already let happen, however this time the atmosphere was different. We stood on ambiguous grounds, waiting for Bruce to make a decision.

The man wasn't stupid, he saw the way I looked at him. The nightmares and inability to take a break from life put a significant dent in my resolve to keep a distance between us, romantically - I could have settled even for a pity kiss, a pity fuck. Anything to put my brain on pause.

His lips were softer than I had imagined. Skilled, too, he easily steered the kiss into the shallow waters of our combined longing.

With Tony, it was like an avalanche. Tony ran hot like Peterbilt engines, hard and fast, almost angry in his race for satisfaction. Tony was a man that was used to getting whatever he wanted and it became plainly obvious when we fucked.

Bruce was the opposite. He savoured the kiss, losing himself in a way that could almost be described as delicate. Bruce was humming, softly, as we tasted each other, holding the left side of my face with careful fingertips. Almost as if he was afraid to break me. The feel of his skin on mine was soothing in a way that made me sigh and relax even further.

"Wanna make you feel good." His voice had dropped, gone husky, but his breathing held even. He must know all about self-control.

"Yeah," I was ready to agree with whatever the fuck he was offering. My eyelids remained shut.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie

PS. Letsby, please don't combust. The underwear is coming off in the next chapter. 😶

[wickedbarnes]

Guns and Roses (Pt. 2) | John Wick x Reader

Part 1

SYPNOSIS: After the little visit from the new flower shop downtown, John slowly finds himself on edge and being haunted by a certain innocent girl.

THEME: Non-con. Dubcon. Obsession. Dark!John x Innocent/Naive!Reader. Abduction. Lots of smut. Don't read if any of these make you uncomfortable. 18+ readers ONLY.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Slight mention of violence.

John hadn't find the time to visit her yet. And days passed by, he had grown irritated by the fact without him noticing. He was easily angered but then again, he was like a ticking time bomb ever since his wife died. When Helen Wick was sent six feet underground, she took the man that John once was.

A whole different version of him was left behind. A version of him that shook his enemies to the core. Because if John Wick was already known to be brutal, the man who he is today was worse than that now. And somehow, that alarmed some people.

Some of them believed he was losing a few screws. But they weren't bold enough to be loud about the rumor. They didn't want to take any chances. Last time someone uttered the name of Helen Wick and used it to push John's buttons, they had their head cut off. The slow way. After that, no one was brave enough to do what the last guy did.

And somehow, his pal, Aurelio noticed how John was always so antsy and on edge as if one tap on his shoulder would cause him to have a killing spree.

"John, you need to take it easy." He sighed and poured the man a drink. The assassin grumbled and leaned back on his seat broodingly.

"I am taking it easy." He reasoned out but he knew Aurelio wasn't buying any of that shit.

"I'm not stupid, man. I notice how you seem so... I don't know, seem so... irritated. Like something's been bugging you. Do you wanna tell me about it?"

"There's nothing to tell." By the tone of John's voice, Aurelio raised his arms up in defeat.

"Okay, but you gotta push yourself, man." He sighed and took a sip of his drink, "You can't mope around forever. You need to do something. Go out, find someone new, figure a new hobby. Stop restricting yourself, John."

John gripped the glass tightly as his mood worsened by what Aurelio was saying but a voice inside his head told him that he was just doing what any friend would do during a hard time.

"I'm perfectly fine with how I'm doing. I got a job, I book bind, I keep myself busy. I'm good to go." John answered which made his friend sigh deeply.

"John, you're holding yourself back and it's so evident. Stop doing things that you feel is what you need to do. Do the things that you want to do. I know for a fact that you don't want to go back to being an assassin nor does book binding give you enough benefits now but you're doing them because you feel somehow obligated."

John stayed silent as Aurelio's words began to register inside his head.

"You still have some years left, man. Don't waste it. If you want to socialize, do it. Don't hold yourself back. Jesus, if you want to hook up with thousands of bitches, do it! No one's telling you no."

John took a huge swig of his drink.

"What I'm saying is, I know Helen wouldn't have wanted you to live this way. She would've wanted you to move on."

John sometimes hated how right Aurelio was. He sometimes hated it when he makes a point and that often happens. But his words did got himself thinking.

Would Helen be happy with the man John has turned out?

He already knew the answer to that but John can't bring himself to accept it. Without another word, he got up from his seat and decided to call it a day before he drove back into his empty shell of a home.

It wasn't even dark out yet. But John found himself being utterly exhausted. Maybe it was because of his recent mission the other day. Sighing, he craned his neck a bit and felt the kink that had been bothering him for a few days. The bruises on his body didn't help either. He somehow remembered how Helen would tend to his wounds everytime before he retired. How she'd treat every cut and every bad bruise that was etched on his skin.

But now he needed to make do and do all that himself.

Or maybe someone could still do it for him? Would that girl have the same touch as Helen had or would it be more comforting? Would it be- No. No.

John shook his head and tightened his grip around the steering wheel. This was one of his everyday struggle now. Ever since he visited that damn flower shop, John finds himself thinking about her every now and then. Even when he willed himself not to, that girl was sneaky enough to slip through his mind yet again.

The assassin would sometimes compare her to Helen. There was no doubt she was younger than him and even younger than Helen. If John wasn't mistaken, maybe he was twice her age. And he hates how he likes that fact.

He never found himself being attracted to women who were much younger than him. But after seeing her, John finds himself debating whether he'd make an exception for that.

The daisy he tucked safely in the pocket of his coat was placed neatly and safely on his nightstand. Why? He has no idea. But at the same time, he does. The daisy was as delicate as she was. And John wanted to grasp that sense of delicateness and purity in his hands. He wanted to cherish it somehow. And so, every morning when he wakes up, he'd check to see if the daisy that fell from her hair was still there where he placed it.

He relaxed everytime he sees it.

"Get your shit together." He'd tell himself. But just as he did, he found himself driving by the familiar flower shop. And if John had the chance to kick himself right in the balls for parking on the side of the road, he would've.

He should've walked away. He should've drove back home but his feet had carried him inside the shop where he found himself entering, the bell ringing as he opened the door.

There weren't many customers inside but John had noticed there was quite a change the last time he had been here. There were more chairs and tables and John noticed how there were baked goodies being served to the customers.

His attention was taken when he found her walking out from the back of the room with flour smeared on her cheek. Today, she was wearing a pastel pink, puff-sleeved dress and her hair was let loose, letting it pool down her back in beachy waves. She looked absolutely adorable. Stunning, even.

And John found himself admiring the color pink on her.

"Oh, hey!" The girl greeted her with a bright smile on her face, "Haven't seen you around. Have you been taking good care of your cactus?"

John chuckled and stuffed his hand in the pockets of his jeans as he nodded.

"Yeah, I finally got the hang of it. It's looking pretty healthy, thankfully."

"That's great! If you want more, just tell me and I'll give you a discount." She'd say, whispering the last part to him as if she was afraid someone would hear and be offended that she offered John a discount.

"Oh, I'll keep that in mind for sure."

"So, what can I get you today? Finally managed to turn this into a little café. And thank God I don't have to do it all alone now." John turned his head to see a girl just about her age serving coffee to the couple on the other side of the room.

"This place looks great, really." John complimented her and began to look over at the pastries that were placed on the display counter.

He wasn't a big fan on sweets but John didn't want to be rude and come here just to chat with her although he wouldn't mind that one but. But a voice in his head convinced him to at least buy one of her baked goods and have a taste on something that she made herself.

"I'll just have a blueberry muffin and some coffee to go, sweetheart." John would say after some time, not meaning to call her another pet name. He internally punched himself in the face for that and somehow hoped she didn't catch onto it or at least find it weird.

But he was relieved, a bit ecstatic when he saw how her face blushed slightly to what he just called her. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from grinning at the fact that he now knows he somehow has an effect on the girl.

She'd nod her prettt little head and wrote his order quickly on the notepad she had.

"How would you, uhm, like your coffee, sir?" She asked, looking up at him with those adorable fucking doe eyes and John had to clench his fist to stop himself from reaching over and caress her cheek while she looked up at him like this. As if she was ready to submit whatever he wanted her to submit.

"Black. No sugar, no creamer." John answered as the bashful girl in front of him nodded her head obediently and John smiled faintly at how she took in every word he had said.

"This'll be done in a minute or two. Find somewhere you can sit and I'll serve it to you." She smiled and John thanked her for her service and immediately gave her his pay. But as she began to prepare his order, John slipped in a generous amount of cash and put it inside the tip jar that she had before he walked over to a vacant seat near the counter where she worked.

He knew she could've easily just called her name so he could get the order himself since that's how cafés usually work but since she offered to serve his order herself, how could John possibly say no to an offer like that?

It only took a few minutes before she walked over to his table and placed his order down carefully in front of him. John's eyes were focused on her, as if he was taking in every bit of her features inside his mind, as if he was trying to memorize every crevice of her body, every freckle or mark that she had on her skin and by the looks of how her cheeks had blushed yet again, John knew that she knew he had been staring at her.

"Will that be all, sir?" She asked somewhat shyly and John chuckled at her bashfulness. She looked adorable. Too adorable. And not the kind where he wanted to pinch her cheeks. It was the kind where he wanted to push her up against the wall or caress her inner thigh just to see what kind of reaction she would get.

"That'll be all, sweetheart. But I suppose it wouldn't be too much of me if I ask for your name?" He asked politely, not wanting to come off as creepy or too intense. He wouldn't want to risk blowing up his chance in knowing the name of the fairy-like dame such as herself.

"O-Oh, uh..." She bit her lip down nervously before she answered, "Y/N, sir. Y/N Y/LN."

"Y/N." John whispered to himself as if he was testing what her name would sound like rolling off of his tongue, "Nice to meet you, Y/N. I'm John. John Wick."

Y/N smiled faintly at his name and held the circular tray close to her chest.

"It's nice to meet you, John. Hope you enjoy your meal." She'd say and with that, she went back to the counter and began to serve the other customers that came in. Whether they wanted to try out her new pastries and coffee or needed assisting when it came to flowers.

John didn't waste his time nor his money and began to dig into his muffin and surprisingly, he found out how much he liked it. The muffin wasn't too sweet nor was it too bland. It was just right for his taste. He could never finish the muffin that Helen made back then. They always came out too sweet. Sometimes too dry. Even the coffee he ordered managed to taste better than the one he drinks at home.

The assassin seemed pleased that he managed to finish everything he had ordered. Not only that, it gave him more reason to stop by the shop more. Either he wanted to try Y/N's other baked goods or just for her, only he had to know.

Unfortunately, he had to live early. He had a mission to get to tomorrow and he couldn't risk going without getting any proper sleep. So he begrudgingly stood up from his seat and made his way to the door but not before turning back and sending Y/N a smile and a wink.

The tint of pink reappeared on her soft ample cheeks and John chuckled as she bit her lip and looked away, probably too embarrassed to even wave goodbye at him.

But either way, he was satisfied with how his day had ended.

That night, John went into a blissful sleep. He could swear he smelled the strong aroma of black coffee, could see the flowers loitering in a familiar looking shop, could taste the blueberry muffin he ate earlier.

He could also feel the gentle touch of a certain girl that did nothing but just drive him crazy these past few days. He could feel the fabric of a pastel pink dress brushing against his knee and the giggle that belonged to someone that had daisies in her hair.

This was the first time that he had dreamt of someone apart from Helen and her death. This was the first time he felt warmth radiating in his body. It was the first time he had dreamt of her.

And slowly but surely, he could feel Y/N leaning in, her soft cherry glossed lips brushing against the shell of his ear that only caused him to grip on his pillow tightly.

"John. Wake up, John." She'd whisper just as John heard the familiar beeping of his alarm clock. He fluttered his eyes open and immediately turned it off.

It was 5:30 AM. Sighing, he slowly sat up and turned to look at the daisy that sat perfectly on his nightstand.

And maybe, just maybe, in his groggy state, John picked up his wife's bracelet and placed it inside the drawer before closing it, leaving the little daisy and the cactus Y/N had gifted him on his nightstand.

He smiled at the view. It looked refreshing. But somehow, there was a feeling settling in his stomach that stirred the guilt in him a bit.

Because that was also the first time he had put away Helen's bracelet somewhere where he couldn't see.

But soon enough, the guilt died down as quickly as it came.

TAGS: @a-really-bi-girl @fanficsrusz @fairylightsandchai @pinkzsugar @edgiestwinter @paanchu786 @meetmeinthematinee @baphometwolf666 @fortheloveoffanfic @thesadvampire

[whiskeyandwolfsbane]

8/2 - 12:19PM

So the last few days have comprised of sleeping, itching, and in general just sitting around. I might be able to get my drains out earlier than planned - one day earlier anyway - and so that's good, especially since I think they're part of why I'm itching so much.

I also stopped taking my Oxycodone. I've been able to keep my pain managed with Tylenol and Celecoxib, and I heard somewhere that opiate-based medications often cause itching. I think mine has gotten a little less intense since stopping the oxy, so I'm assuming that's true.

It's only been a few days and I can already feel the toxic bullshit of capitalism seeping into my head. I've not gotten to a point where I need to take one of my anxiety meds yet but I'm getting close on and off - my brain is stressing out a lot about the fact we're just "sitting around being lazy" (even though we're recovering from a major surgery), and about the fact that I got denied paid medical leave; my job is still asking for paperwork that I have to physically mail out to someone for some reason, and I haven't been able to try and reapply for EBT cash benefits because I can't make it through the paperwork on my own.

All of that plus the fact I'm not working just makes me feel freaked out; I have to be working or I'm wasting my life or being more of a burden and blah blah blah.

I hate that we live in a world where because of capitalism and the bullshit wages/benefits most jobs give (or don't give), people are sometimes almost sick with anxiety over having to recover from invasive surgeries. It blows my mind.

A friend told me that a month and a few weeks isn't nearly long enough for most intensive surgeries and that I really should be taking it easy for a few months at least but there's no way I'm going to be able to. I could barely get the folks at my job to begrudgingly say they'd put me on 30 day leave if all else failed. Not even the full six weeks my doctor ordered, just thirty days. And all it really does is make sure I still have a position in that company after I get better - I don't get any financial aid with it, or any help at all really.

I'm not surprised I was denied. Trying to get assistance in this country is like trying to pull out an alligator's tooth. I'm just frustrated.

I'm sure I'll be fine, but I certainly can't spend months trying to recover. I definitely won't have a job after that if I do. Just another perk of living in this ridiculous country and another reason I'm trying so hard to figure out the process of immigrating to Canada.

Anyway so that's where I'm at; stressing about things out of my control, lol. Physically I'm feeling much the same. Itchy, a bit uncomfortable, achy.

I've been sleeping a lot, I think. It's hard to say because my schedule is all over the place but I'm pretty sure I've been sleeping much more lately. My mom is worried it means something is afoot, but I don't think it is. I think, obviously, I'm recovering from an invasive surgery - even if I'm not on the opiates anymore, that's still a huge deal; and I also suspect I have chronic fatigue.

That, and I think this is the first time in... months if not years that I've been able to just. Rest. I can sleep whenever I'm able for as long as I'm able without any stress. I don't have to meticulously calculate it so that I get "just enough" hours before I have to get up for work, or dread the alarm going off, or feel the pressure of needing to do everything in a single day because it's the only day off I have that week so I can't just rest.

I never realised how much of my sleep is just still inherently causing me actual stress because of the way the world works. It pisses me off. It really does.

But yeah. I'm not personally surprised I'm sleeping so much. I suppose I may as well make the most of it too before I have to go back to the fuckin circus of life where even my sleep is somehow stressful. Maybe I'll finally feel fully rested for once in the last multiple years if I sleep a lot while I'm on recovery leave, haha.

[onebangtanstan]

Power Styles - Chapter Fourteen : The launch

I quickly turn off my alarm as Hobi is still fast asleep beside me. I gently leave my bedroom, letting him have a lay-in.

I check my phone while I'm waiting for my coffee to pour, and have a text from Jin.

« Hey Gina, just a bit worried is Hobi with you?»

I type « Hey Jin, yeah sorry he slept here, I didn't want to let him leave, he was a bit drunk and sad. »

The warm smell of coffee fills up my nose as I walk to the couch. I take a look at social media while I drink my coffee, and the first thing I see everywhere is articles about Namjoon's new hair color. Ughh, give me a break, I just woke up. Jin answers at the perfect time, just before I was starting to get angry again.

« Oh okay, thanks Gina. »

I don't have time to reply because a second text pops up on my screen.

« I've been meaning to ask.. Would you like to have dinner sometime? 🥺 »

I smile as butterflies invade my stomach.

« I would love too Jin 😌»

I open my computer to start working. My team has already started so I get updated on what has been done, and start editing the video clip. I prefer to do it by myself, so everything is perfect.

I decide to put on some music to not work in silence and figure I should get to know BTS before tour. I put on a random playlist and get back into working.

About an hour into editing, I start vibing to a bouncy song. It's so good that I actually start dancing in my living room.

I hear a laugh behind me, making me turn around and go red when I see Hobi.

« How long have you been there? » I shyly ask

« Not too long » He says « But long enough to see you vibing on RM's solo. »

Oh fuck. « Um I didn't know.. Coffee ?» I'm trying to divert the conversation.

« Yes please. » We head to the kitchen. « You don't have to be embarrassed, it's a good song. And it's healthy to have dance sessions. »

He smiles at me, presses play and turns the volume up.

Namjoon's voice fills up my apartment while Hobi starts jumping around, screaming the lyrics.

« I LIVE SO I LOVE! I LIVE SO I LOVE! LIVE AND LOVE, LIVE AND LOVE! IF IT'S LOVE I WILL LOVE YOU!»

« You should take that advice » I tell him.

« FIRST LET ME VIBE! »

I look at him dancing around my living room. First of all, wow, he's an amazing dancer. Secondly, he's so cute. He looks so happy in this moment, I can't help but smile at him. I must look like a proud mom.

He falls down on the couch when the song is over. I join him soon after with his cup of coffee. He grabs it from my hands as soon as I hand it to him.

« Did you sleep okay? » I ask him.

« Yes, thank you again. I really needed it. » He looks at me gratefully.

« Anytime. » I smile back at him. « Did you think about our talk? »

« Yes I did. » I look at him anticipatedly. « I'm going to tell him. »

« Oh Hobi that's amazing! » I pull him into my arms. « Just know that whatever you need, I'll be here to support you. »

« Brilliant, because I was thinking of a grand gesture. »

« How so? » I'm intrigued.

« Well we have the dinner on Monday and I was thinking a speech? So then the boys would know too. He's already out, so he wouldn't mind. »

« That would be epic. »

I get back to work soon after, and Hobi just stays with me all day, asking me questions about the editing. I eventually close my computer around 6pm.

« Right, that's enough for today. » I'm actually surprised, I got a lot done today and will only need to add finishing touches tomorrow. «What are we doing tonight? »

« Dinner and drinks? My treat. »Hobi says. I nod back, it's exactly what I need.

« Brilliant. Let me go back home to get ready and I'll pick you up at 8. »

« Perfect! » I say

I start getting ready as soon as he leaves. I take a long shower, allowing the water to rinse all the tensions away. I tie my hair up in a tight bun, put on my makeup and head towards my wardrobe. I feel good tonight, so I pick a nice outfit to match my mood.

My phone bings as I'm about to put my clothes on. It's a text from Hobi.

« Hey, I should be here in 30 minutes. Quick question, is it okay if Jin tags along? »

« Absolutely! » I text back, and think about how my outfit is a perfect fit for tonight.

Hobi calls me just as I'm putting my coat on. I quickly leave my apartment to join him and Jin in the black SUV.

« Wow Gina, you look amazing! » Hobi says

« Why do you sound surprised? » I tease him, and look over to Jin, who is just staring at me. « Hey Jin. »

He snaps back into reality « Um, hi Gina, how are you? »

« Good, thank you. » I'm amused by his first reaction, but he hasn't seen my outfit yet. This is going to be fun.

We arrive at barbecue restaurant in Gangnam. Jin, as a true gentleman, opens the door for us. A waitress brings us to our table, and I wait for the perfect moment to take off my coat. Jin's eyes almost pop out of his head. Mission accomplished.

« Oh wow. » Are they only 2 words that he can manage to say.

I act as if I didn't notice how he's looking at me. I sit down and start looking at the menu, feeling his gaze on me.

We decide to order a bit of everything and just share. We also order a nice bottle of red wine and some soju.

We start eating and drinking and talking. At first we talk about work, but as the drinks kick into our systems, the conversation drifts to nonsense. All of a sudden Hobi stands up.

« LOOK WHO'S HEEEEERE! » His glass is held up high towards the other side of the room. « TAE-TAE AND KOOKIE! » I giggle at the knicknames, turning my head to notice them coming towards us.

« Hey guys, what's up? » Kook says.

« Eating, drinking, talking, all that, you know?» Jin answers.

« Come have a drink with us! » Hobi tells them.

They sit down after a few minutes of us practically begging them to join us. They're both a bit tipsy but definitely not on our level. We take it upon ourselves to get them in the same state as us by starting a drinking game. They quickly catch up on us, causing general hysteria at our table.

We start sobering up after a while.

« Right, we're going to go. » Tae says, looking intensily at Kook.

« Sure thing. » Kook smiles back at Tae, almost blushing.

We all decide to leave and end up on the street to say goodbye.

Tae and Kook hop into a car, that soon disappears into the night. They seemed to be in a hurry.

« Come on let's go. Gina we're bringing you home. » Jin says, and I don't interject ; I'm still quite drunk.

I stare out the window the whole way back, seeing the city lights go past us. Seoul truly is beautiful at night, with all the signs lighting up the streets.

Hobi has fallen asleep by the time we arrive at my building. Jin helps me get out of the car and into my building.

He's holding me in his arms while we're on the lift. I can feel myself almost falling asleep leaning on him, his heartbeat sending soothing rushes through my body.

He takes my keys out of my hands after seeing the way I'm struggling to open my door.

« Are you good from here? » He asks.

« S-sure. » I stutter and trip at the same time.

« Right, let's get you to bed. »

He carries me into my room and lies me in my bed. His arms feel so good around my body.

« Will you manage to take off your clothes or do you need help? »

I simply groan, indicating him to help me. He gets to the top, and takes it off as I realize I'm not wearing a bra. I'm too tired to care, but he pauses for too long. I move under my covers to break the awkwardness. He walks up to tuck me in.

« Goodnight Gina. » He whispers. He kisses my forehead softly but I can feel the lust in his lips pressed on my skin.

I barely hear the door close, already lost in my dreams.

I have a hard time remembering where I am when I wake up, and how I ended up in my underwear. Flashbacks from last night come streaming in my head. Wow, I was really drunk.

I pull myself out of bed, throw a robe on and head straight to my coffee machine.

I sit on my couch with my warm mug, staring through the window, slowly waking up.

A text alert brings me back to earth

« How are you feeling today? » It's Jin. He's so thoughtful.

« A bit drowsy but okay. Thanks for last night, and sorry if I made you uncomfortable.. »

« Well I couldn't leave you like that by yourself.» A second text comes in straight after. « Uncomfortable wouldn't be the feeling. »

I giggle at his text before typing a reply. «Might I know what it was then? 🙄»

« I'd rather not tell you 😏»

I smile. I know exactly what the feeling was, I'm feeling it right now.

I force myself to snap out of it, I have work to do.

I open up my computer and start working on the video once again.

The day goes by as I finish the campaign. My team is also working really hard and we end up finishing everything before schedule.

I decide to text the boys.

« Hey guys! So quick update on the campaign : everything is edited and almost ready for the launch tomorrow. Get ready, it's going to be everywhere at 12. »

I put my phone down and head to the shower. I hear the notifications go wild. I pick it up as soon as I step out.

Hobi : I CAN'T WAIIIIIT 🤗

Kook : Yay! Thanks for your hard work Gina

Yoongi : Thanks for your update !

Jin : Brilliant!

As usual, Jimin didn't answer but strangely Namjoon did. And it wasn't a mean answer either. It reads « Very well, could you keep us updated tomorrow too? »

What? He's asking for news?

« Sure no problem » I answer.

I look at the time and decide to head to bed. I haven't slept a lot this weekend and I need to be in good shape tomorrow.

The next day, I get ready for work and stop once again for coffee and food for everyone.

We have quite a chill morning, since everything was done this weekend. We're just going over a few details, and even have time to talk about the tour.

We all gather in the conference room at 12 to see the official campaign. M. Yi joins us too.

The countdown starts on the screen and there it is. My team and I watch the final product of our hard work being sent out to the world. We're very proud of it. We put every effort into it in such a short time.

M. Yi starts clapping and we all join in.

We pop some champagne and stay there for a bit before I send my team away. I was able to get them the next two days of since I took up their weekend.

« You did well Ms Douglas. » M. Yi is now standing beside me.

« Thank you, sir. I promise the tour will be better, I'll have more time to be prepared. »

« Better than you pulled off here would be phenomenal. I made the right decision hiring you 3 years ago. »

« I'm very grateful sir. »

He proceeds to leave the room as my phone starts blowing up. It's the group. They're all congratulating me (almost all of them) and telling me how much they love it. I also notice a private text from Jin.

« Come downstairs. »

I gather my stuff with butterflies in my stomach and head to the elevator.

When I walk out, I see Jin standing there with a huge bouquet in his hands.

« Congratulations Gina. »

« Oh my God, Jin! Thank you so much they're beautiful! » I truly am surprised. « What are you doing here? »

« I thought we could spend the day together before heading to Tae's what do you think? »

« I'd love that. »

We leave the building side by side, my arm hooked around his, while feeling my colleagues' stares on us.