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lululandd · 6 months

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rabid; (iv.)

pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

word count: 1,671

warnings: comedy, unhinged topics, ghost has feelings

note: this is the last one i promise, thanks for reading and sticking around :3

summary: “We need your interrogation magic, LT. We don’t have a lot of time.”

part i. | part ii. | part iii.

“Ghost?” Soap nudged him.

The day was sickly humid, temperature rising by the minute as sweat beaded down his forehead. His mind was somewhere far away when Soap called him, “Yeah. Here.” He replied as he placed a gloved knuckle on his eye, getting rid of the sweat gathering on his lashes.

“We need your interrogation magic, LT. We don’t have a lot of time.”

Ghost sighed deeply at the situation they got themselves into. He looked around the makeshift interrogation room–if they can even call it that–as half of the wall was torn down and there was no roof above them. There could be a UAV coming to pinpoint their location any time now. Soap was right, they don’t have much time.

He stared at his men, all of them looking tired but otherwise alert. He checked his pockets for anything that can be used in an interrogation and took out two of his knives. Gaz and Soap picked up on what he was doing pretty quickly and they handed him pliers, a magnetic pickup tool, while Gromsko and Enzo handed him wire cutters and a swiss knife. To his surprise, Arthur produced a 45° double angle hook from the pocket near where Merlin dangled on his backside.

The man held onto the hook for a moment longer than necessary as Ghost took the item from him, subtly indicating he wanted the item back.

The unnamed Cordis Die member kneeling in front of them stayed silent as Ghost stood in front of him. The others had stayed a little bit away, either keeping watch or just giving them some space. He looked young, late twenties at most, Ghost couldn’t tell very well with all the muck and grime. He crouched down in front of the bound man, asking him in the nicest voice he could muster. When he refused to answer at all, Ghost weighed the items in his hands with vexation as he knows these aren’t the correct tools to make this man talk. His expression didn’t even change when he eyed them in his hands.

He would need to think of something else, and fast.

—

Simon had to hold in his laughter as he loaded his dishwasher, as you and your online friends were onto something wicked which had you laughing and giggling the whole time ever since you started. He heard something about a little celebration but he didn’t quite catch what it was for, but he knows you’re celebrating with a couple drinks.

As he got ready to wind down for the night and crawl into bed for another possibly sleepless night, he perked his ears up to listen in harder on your conversations as you’re getting quieter to probably not disturb him, your only neighbour. It’s cute that you think of him after the soap incident, lowering your voice if you’re going online later in the night. He sort of wishes you didn’t, because of the things he’s gonna miss. Just like tonight’s.

Oh how he would love to hear all the sides of the conversation.

“No, I don’t know what a sheep’s dick looks like. Why would I know what they look like?” A pause. “Nah, I was raised in the city.”

Another info he jolts down in his mind. “Okay. is it more fucked up looking than echidnas?” Simon realised he had no idea what an echidna looks like. He knows what Knuckles—Sonic’s friend—looks like, but not the actual animal. So he googled.

“Man, I really don’t wanna click that link.” He heard you say. He thinks echidnas are cute. They're like pet hedgehogs but with longer snouts and large mole-like paws. He was lost in his thoughts as he scrolled before hearing you squeal out, “No!! What is that! Why does it look…Like that..?” Imagining you wildly gesture at your monitor brought a smile to his face.

Self-restraint was second nature to him at this point, but bloody hell if it didn’t take all of his power to not google what sheep genitalia actually looks like, especially when you continued, “Are you sure you didn't just come across one that’s brok– Oh yeah I see them now. Holyshit they’re all look so fucking mangled.”

Swearing under his breath, Simon typed the words he didn’t want to type onto his search engine. Regret with a capital R hits him and he was too late to hold his voice in and lets out a disgusted noise that was louder than intended.

His notification bar popped up on his phone from you.

SORRY HAHA i was trying to be quieter DID YOU GOOGLE THEM

i did. guess im not sleepin tonight

thats what you get for listening in heheh >:3 maybe you can traumatise your friends with this newfound knowledge?

—

Groaning, he racked his brain on how to word what he was going to say in the most atrocious, horrific, macabre way possible but also came off nonchalant.

He mulled over the thought and dug in the deepest crevice of his vest to produce his phone. Soap fidgeted in his peripherals.

“LT, what tae fuck.”

He heard the tied-up man snort.

Oh. He thinks the Lieutenant in the skull mask is an idiot for bringing his phone to the battlefield. This is a start.

“It’s all right, Sergeant. This is important.”

He powered his phone on, typing his password the moment the screen lit up. The battery showed 62%. It should be more than enough. The sim card was taken out and he had one of the IT staff tinker with it when it was brand new. Opening the gallery and scrolling a little bit, he found the picture he was looking for.

He puts the brightness up to max before talking to the man. “So. Do you know what a sheep’s dick looks like?” Not waiting for an answer, he showed him the picture on his phone. It doesn't look like anything but shredded meat. “Yours will look like this if you don’t tell us what we want.”

Flinching a little, the man tried so hard not to react but Ghost can see him breathing harder.

“I don’t have a picture for the second option, but you’ve heard of anal prolapse, right? It’s when the last bit of your large intestine drops out of your arse. Nasty thing. You can’t control your bowel movement, there’s blood and mucus comin’ out, all that shit.” He handed the tools he was holding over to Arthur, the closest one standing to him. “But did you know there’s a urethra prolapse? I can’t describe it very well because of all the blood but it looks like a lil’ purple doughnut on the tip of your dick. Magenta If I can be fancy with my words.”

Arthur tensed next to him, making the dog let out a distressed whine.

“There will be three choices for you today. One. You tell us the info we need. Two, I mangle your mediocre cock so bad you wish I’d cut it off, or three, I make two doughnuts. Back and front.” He pointed downwards, vaguely to where his crotch is.

“Ghost that's against the Geneva Convention.” Soap spoke up.

The man comically nods.

“Nah. If I start using him as a meat shield out there, then it's against humanitarian laws.” came his cold and calculated answer. “Does he look like he’s surrendered? He’s not even hors de combat. If we do this to him after he gives us good intel, then we'll get tried at the Hague. No. This guy fell into a paper shredder dick first you see. Pure accident.”

Gaz cleared his throat uneasily, realising what could have happened with the raccoons they collected a couple months back. “Ghost…”

He stood up, asking for the tools he handed over earlier. Tilting his head towards the man, he commanded, “Soap, take his pants off.”

It was silent for what seemed like an eternity with no one daring to move before the unfortunate Cordis Die member gritted out the information they needed with what looked like hot tears in his eyes. Soap relayed the info to Laswell while they moved to a more secure place, preferably with a roof and all four walls intact.

Arthur spoke up for the first time as they checked their weapons and placed all their tools back in their respective pockets. He walked closer to the man, “Y’ Should learn about humanitarian laws, does a lot of good in these situations.”

“Oh come oan Arthur, why tae fuck are you teachin’ him tings?”

His face was completely hidden under his golden metallic mask but everyone could tell he’s frowning, “He’s young, maybe if more people taught him he would have known better than to join Cordis Die.”

Laswell had estimated their extraction would not be for another three hours so they all had a little time for themselves. Arthur had let Merlin out of what Soap called “the arse papoose” and the rest of the men had joined in giving the dog pats and bellyrubs. Merlin had been relieved off of work, and Ghost would be lying if he didn’t eye the pup with envy.

Soap approached him with the widest grin he has ever sported on his face while holding onto the top part of his vest and Ghost wishes he could disappear into thin air right now. He has seen the same gesture and expression coming from Price, so he knows he’s gonna get made.

“So… Urethras eh?”

“What, Johnny?” He glared at the Scot with all the leftover anger he could muster, which is barely any since their mission went well and he didn’t have to use excess force on another soldier.

His Sergeant didn’t even regard him seriously and continued, grin wider than ever. Man was practically beaming. “Was the raccoon their idea too, then?”

Soap couldn't see Ghost’s face, but he has been around Simon long enough—been in many dire situations together enough—to know just by looking at his eyes that the stupid Brit is smiling brightly.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty imagines #call of duty #scuffed writing

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snootlestheangel · 5 months

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Prison Break AU further concept

@stuffireadandenjoy

Soap has been in there for about a year, and Ghost is new. They're both in the cell block reserved for the worst of the worst. Brutal murderers, rapists, just really fucked up people. Ghost wants out cause he knows the man that framed him, Roba, is probably out there hurting his family as they speak. Soap, being the evil genius he is, devises a plan to get them out, stop Roba, and clear Simon's name. I definitely see this ending as like Soap has to go back to prison and his sentence has even been increased because of all of it, but it was worth it. Simon fighting to keep Soap out of prison cause he owes him his life.

Potential fic title: "Break For Your Heart"

What's the reason Soap is in prison, you might ask?

I honestly don't fucking know but it's definitely a type of crime that he just drops in casual conversation that has everyone else looking at him like "You did that???" I'm thinking like arson but it was a like really horrible fire or for viciously beating a man to death. Like this is gonna be really indulgent in the idea of Soap being an actual criminally insane force of destruction but also still a silly goofy lil guy.

Soap: So, what brings you here? Ghost: I've been framed for kidnapping, torturing, and killing several people. The man that actually did it is probably terrorizing my family as we speak. Soap: That's fucked up. But neat! *Ghost stares in horror at Soap referring to his fucked up situation as 'neat'* Ghost: Wh-Why are you here? Soap: I beat a man so brutally he died choking on his own blood! :D

Or alternatively

Ghost: What's a nice guy like you have to do to end up here? Soap: Oh I set a man on fire :D Ghost: *stares* Ghost: That must've been messy Soap: Yeah, it was pretty gruesome. Ghost: So why do they call you Soap? Soap: Cause there was a guard abusing several of the inmates and I killed him by stuffing a bar of soap down his throat Ghost: Jesus fucking- what is wrong with you?? Soap: A lot :D

I don't know, this is definitely still in the works (clearly) but I just like the idea of normal, civilian dude Ghost and absolutely unhinged Soap.

#simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #soapghost au #prison break au #cod mw2 #call of duty

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hyperfixiation-station · 2 months

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Random Snippets/Prompts List

CW: Canon typical violence, unhinged thoughts Feel free to use these in requests or ask for me to expand them or something :3

Masterlist Side note: I don't know if these qualify as prompts. I'm not 100% what makes a prompt a prompt lmao

1.) He was still there, his scent in your sheets, his toothbrush on your counter. His jacket still hung in your closet, and you’d found a spare holster in your sock drawer last night. It wasn’t fair, how his ghost haunted your footsteps when the man himself had brushed you off like you were nothing.

2.) “Please” You sob, tears dripping onto his pale face, “wake up Simon. Wake up!”

3.) “Are we seriously working with a Princess? There is no way some bratty socialite is going to be of any-” His words cut off as Price opens the door, revealing a short brunette standing at the head of the table, pointing to a spot on the map. Her head was tilted to the side, no crown to be seen. Soap slowly closes his mouth, staring hard at the woman in front of him.

4.) You lie in the mud, trying to hold on to consciousness but you're so weak from loss of blood. All you want is to see Soap and Ghost one last time, you want to tell them that you love them and that you'd do it again if given the choice.

5.) “I’m not afraid of dying, and I’m definitely not afraid of you.”

“I am going to break you down, bit by bit, until you are a shell of who you are now. And then I am going to build back up into what I want you to be. I want to see the look on your ‘friends’ faces when I send you out to destroy them. I want to hear you screaming at night when you realize what you did. And I will do that for as long as it takes to make you mine. And the best part will be when you look back and say thank you. So yes, you should be very afraid of me. Because I can do so much more than kill you.”

6.) “You are just as bad as I am!”

“You’re wrong!”

“Really? Am I? Name one way I differ from you.”

“I…you…

“She’ll hate you after this.”

7.) “You’re hurting her.”

“I know.”

“Then why do it?”

“Because I’m protecting her.”

“Protecting her? By pushing her away? By..by manipulating and…and…and emotionally abusing her? I don’t see how that is supposed to ‘help her’.”

8.) Don’t go where I can not follow. The whispered pleadings of a broken, desperate man. Stay with me. I need you.

9.) "So scared, even now. I wonder, do you still wake up screaming? Are you still filled with horror whenever someone touches you?"

10.) "I hope you know I broke out of prison for this."

11.) "Just because we love people doesn't mean they are always right. The people we lover can still believe in the wrong things. Can do awful, terrible things. That doesn't mean they don't love you. Or that you don't love them. But that doesn't mean you have to be like them.

and that's all for now, it will be update periodically as I get new ideas :3

#writing prompts #dialogue prompt #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley #ghost fanfiction #cod #ghost x reader #cod x reader #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #call of duty fanfic #call of duty

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ohbo-ohno · 7 months

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I hate that my meds have taken away my ask anxiety but I can’t bring myself to write so you and ceil are just gonna have to deal with my spam 😔😔. (Also never feel pressured to have to add more content or anything I just want to share unhinged ideas 😌)

But I need your opinion on ghostface ghoap x reader. Like the boys as Billy and Stu ?? Yeah it’s so serial killer boys canon.

Simon is already dating you and Johnny being childhood best friend type, the two of them systematically going after everyone close to you so you lean on them more. The two of them providing alibis for each other when Simon attacks you and Johnny save you and vice versa and now you don’t ever want to be apart from either of them.

Also maybe they enjoy the chase just a little, would never actually hurt you but the fear is defs a turn on.

billy and stu are soooo ghoap coded

ghost bullies johnny except it doesn't work because johnny gets off on it 😵‍💫😵‍💫 johnny tries to be a serial killer and is really fucking bad at covering his tracks and fellow serial killer ghost tracks him down like immediately and is like "oh my god this fucking idiot is going to get us both caught" and reluctantly teaches him his ways and soap is like "😊 he likes me"

ghost has thisvery meticulously created plan to torment his girlfriend and johnny keeps almost fucking it up but he can't kick the guy to the curb now or he'll have to kill him and tbh... ghost is kinda attached to the little freak...

#kitkatscabinet #ghoap x reader #asks and answers

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johnwickb1tsch · 3 months

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The Night Nurse - Ch 9

A John Wick x Helen Fic

When nurse Helen Morgan is caught in the crossfire of a shootout and aids the injured John Wick, she’s faced with two options: serve the High Table, or be executed as a Witness. She tells herself her choice to work at the Continental has everything to do with survival, and excellent pay, and *not* her growing feelings for the Tall, Dark, and Handsome Assassin™ who got her into this mess in the first place, thank you very much. │ Masterlist / Chapter Map │

IX.

Helen made her way back to the guest bedroom, where John had placed her things. She had not mentioned it yet, but the sight of a massive bouquet of cheerful white Shasta daisies upon a side table swelled her heart to bursting. How had he managed it? She reasoned that he must have a house keeper to execute such things. The thought of him running after a house this size, vacuuming and dusting in between fulfilling contracts definitely made her grin.

She noticed his thoughtfulness had struck again in the bathroom, with artisan made soaps and bodywash that smelled like honey, rosemary, and looked like they had been extremely expensive. As she washed the grime of their lessons away she may have lingered a little extra long just to luxuriate a bit.

Not too long, though.

She was eager to get back to John, missing his company already.

She had it bad.

Maybe she should have kissed him earlier, when his arm had been wrapped around her waist like a band of steel. And yet, the older woman in her savored the slowly burning fuse between them, even if it was driving her a little mad. She knew from experience this was the sweetest part. The longing. The desire. The heavy looks and lingering touches. The honeymoon, as it were, when it seemed like the object of your devotion could do no wrong. She’d never been with anyone with whom that did not fade.

Maybe John would be the exception.

Maybe she really was losing her damn mind.

Fresh from the shower, she made her way to her bag. Maybe she’d exaggerated a little about the size of the first aid kit. There was a little something for everything within its confines; she liked to be prepared, and she felt like she’d packed just the right outfit for the moment. Maybe John would be so overcome by her beauty he would finally grab her up and kiss her—she snorted at the absurdity of the thought, even if, in the back of her mind, she kindled the hope.

John took a quick shower, careful of his new dressing, not wanting to displease Nurse Helen, although the thought of getting a rise out of her made the blood rush from his brain to a decidedly less helpful area. When she leveled him with that certain look…god. It made him want to grab her up and throw her down.

***

No, no, no, he scolded himself, looking down. Such thoughts were not helpful at all.

Maybe he would get a reward for being a good boy, and not wrecking the dressing.

The thought of that didn’t help either.

Exasperated with himself and his increasingly unhinged thoughts, he made his way to the kitchen, getting to work. He liked to cook. He found it relaxing, perhaps because he didn’t actually get the chance to do it all that often. Nights at home were a luxury in his business, and he intended to enjoy this one to the fullest.

He was prepping some asparagus crowns when Helen padded around the corner in a wide-necked ivory sweater dress that nearly cost him a finger. He paused in his chopping, his eyes all for her as she slid onto the stool across from him at the island.

“Can I do anything to help?” she asked with a sparkle in her eye that suggested she had an idea of what he was thinking as he looked at her. Little did he know, she was experiencing similar heart palpitations at the sight of him in his simple black button down, the open throat accenting the muscles of his chest to an utterly unfair advantage. Does he even know? she wondered. Somehow, she doubted it. Though he dressed well, he didn’t actually seem vain. Or if he was, he hid it better than any good-looking man she’d ever known.

“No,” John refused. “You’ve had a long day thanks to me. I insist you sit there, and look beautiful, and have a glass of wine if you would like one.”

She giggled at hearing that, propping her chin on her hand. “You’ve had a long day too, putting up with me.”

He started back on trimming the ends off of the asparagus, feeling that tell-tale heat blooming at his collar.

“I’ve had…a wonderful day, with you.” He looked up through his hair after he said it, dark-eyed and a little vulnerable. Helen felt her heart melt a little more for it.

“Me too,” she agreed quietly. “There’s never a dull moment with you, John.”

The corner of his mouth ticked. “I wouldn’t mind a few more dull moments. Or at least, quiet ones.”

“Are you...” She bit her lip. “Maybe I shouldn't ask you that.”

“You can ask me anything,” he told her, and meant it.

“Ok. Are you getting burnt out on your job?”

He tilted his head, really thinking about it. It was all he'd ever known. He'd never even considered quitting, until meeting this woman, and daring to dream about what a life could be like outside the Underworld.

“I've never actually liked my job,” he admitted. “But I never really had a choice either. Excelling at what I do was the only path to some semblance of freedom for me.”

“And do you have to keep doing it? Just, indefinitely, forever?”

He sighed. He was so in demand, for Viggo, and those the Bratva boss lent him out to, for the right price. He couldn't imagine them ever letting him retire, even to a quieter post like Charon or Winston enjoyed.

“I don't know,” he answered truthfully. The Impossible Task was a thing of legend among their kind. He'd never known of anyone who had come out from one alive. He'd considered it before, abstractly. Like something he might pursue when he finally needed one last challenge to cut the boredom.

That was before he had something to lose.

Pouring her a glass of red wine, he asked, “What about you? Is nursing what you've always wanted to do?”

Helen accepted the glass of wine with a grateful smile. “I've been a caretaker for as long as I can remember. It seemed like a natural step, and it was a life line for my sister and I. We left Boston as soon as we could. We lived in the shittiest little apartment in the Bronx while I went to school, and waited tables, and Eve worked in a coffee house and sold her art. God...those days. I can't say I miss them. I was so grateful for my first shift after graduation. It was the first time since my father passed that I felt some sense of stability in my life. I felt, almost, safe.”

“Almost?”

“Almost.”

John found he despised the thought of Helen not feeling secure. It made him want to do something insane, like offer to take care of her forever.

“Hmm. I am going to start the grill, and then you are going to tell me what you like to do when you're not taking care of everyone else around you.”

With a soft smile she watched him exit out the sliding glass doors to the patio beyond. She found that watching him doing the smallest things moved her. The poetry of his long-fingered hands, even when just chopping vegetables. Walking out a door. More preferably, walking towards her.

It felt alarmingly warm, and cozy.

It felt like... Oh no. Not yet. Leave that bastard of a four-letter word out for now. It only complicated things, unbearably so, in most cases. She just wanted to enjoy this, without jumping out of her skin, or thinking too much about the future.

It had always been her job to think about the future, and it was something that was hard to turn off.

When John returned, sliding the door closed behind him, he offered Helen a small smile that warmed her to her toes.

This man.

It really wasn’t fair.

She watched as he poured himself a glass of wine, inhaling deeply before taking a sip. “Is it alright?”

“It's wonderful,” she complimented. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Shouldn't be long on the grill. Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

As she looked at him across the island, she knew she wasn't just talking about food. She just couldn't stop herself from looking at him like something she wanted to eat. She couldn't tell if he knew it, too, but those soulful dark eyes staring into hers warmed her from her heart to her toes, and everything in between.

***

Helen sat at the head of the huge dining table, at John’s insistence. Rather than have a ridiculously removed meal with a league between them from opposite ends of the table, he set a place for himself to her right. She watched as he lit two taper candles in modern wrought iron sconces, smiling softly. “I’ve never had occasion to actually use these,” he confesses, and she wonders if that means he’d never had company here before?

John was a private man, and she supposed that just maybe it was possible.

The light outside the wall of windows was fading as night fell, and the candlelight lent a warm intimacy to the cavernous space around them. Half through her first glass of wine on an empty stomach, Helen was definitely feeling the glow.

Dinner was simple but delicious, the steaks grilled to perfection. She knew that she was perhaps reading into it more than she should, in her state of slight inebriation, but there was something rather primal about a man cooking a meal for a woman. It probably called back to vestigial memories of the hunter laying the kill of the day by the fire. I feed you. Maybe it was silly, but Helen couldn’t help but feel utterly cared for. It was refreshing, to say the least. She wasn’t sure she dared finish the rest of that archaic thought, but maybe in the back of her mind a little voice whispered the rest:

I feed you, because you are mine.

John’s foot bumped hers under the table. Sitting so close, it was inevitable their mutually long limbs would become tangled. “Sorry,” he apologized, and she simply smiled into her wine glass, pointedly placing her foot over his.

“It’s alright,” she answered, and the warmth in his eyes from across the table sent a thrill through her bones.

“So,” said John, clearing his throat. “You were going to tell me what you like to do in your free time, when you’re not keeping everyone around you from falling to pieces.”

She laughed softly, and the sparkle in her molten-sugar eyes was utterly melting. Wine, John thought. They were definitely going to need more wine.

With a shrug she answered, “I’m not…really that interesting, John. You already know I like to read. I draw a little. I like walking in the woods, and on the beach. Maybe visit the occasional museum. Sometimes I like movies, but usually they’re just too dumb to invest the time these days.” She’s quiet for a moment. “Honestly, most of my life, I’ve been too busy taking care of someone else to have serious hobbies.”

He frowned, thinking he would give her all the free time in the world, if she would let him. He wanted to think that was just the wine talking, but…it wasn’t. He absolutely knew it wasn’t.

“If you had all the time you wanted, what would you do?”

She pursed her lip, thinking about that, like it had never occurred to her that it could ever be a possibility. “You know, I took a printmaking class in college that I really liked. I always wished I could do that more, but…it takes room, and equipment, and it makes a big mess. But there was just something about the snap of pulling that first print after spending all the time on the prep work, drawing the design and carving the plate. No matter how well you tried to plan, there would always be some kind of surprise on the paper. Something unexpected and out of your control, but usually something beautiful. Like a happy cosmic mistake. I loved that.”

John stared at her as she described this, and for the umpteenth time that day, he thought she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. The subject of making art brought a light to her eyes that he found utterly addicting, and he wondered what it would take to outfit the other half of his binding workshop into a printmaking studio.

“When you make your first series of prints, I’ll bind them for you,” he offered, and she veritably glowed with the suggestion.

“That sounds amazing, John.” She leaned back in her chair, smiling across at him, seeming utterly content. “So how did you get into bookbinding?”

He shrugged a little. “I’ve always loved books. I didn’t get to have any formal schooling, really. They were my window to the outside world. I used to have to hide them, at the—” He almost said Theatre, but caught himself just barely. “At the place where I was trained.”

“Oh, John.” Helen reached across the table to him, sliding her fingers in his. He squeezed her hand appreciatively, grazing her knuckles with his thumb.

“It’s alright. When I was young I found this dogeared copy of Russian Fairy Tales by Afanasyev. It was old. I didn’t know it at the time, but it was actually rather valuable. I took it everywhere with me, all across the world, and over time the binding broke, the pages started falling out. After finishing a job and finally having a little money of my own, I took it to this bookshop to have it restored. The old man who owned it had this wonderful workshop. It smelled like leather and old parchment and glue, and for the first time since my mother was alive, I felt a sense of peace? I knew I wanted to learn how to save old books. To actually…create something, rather than just destroying all the time.”

He didn’t realize that his grip on Helen’s fingers had tightened, almost painfully so, until he’d finished speaking. He let up with a shaky sigh. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Do you…”

“Go on.”

They had come too far, not to ask anything, now.

“Do you remember your mother?”

“A little,” he admitted. “Though more…a feeling, of being with her? I was very small. She would sing to me, and I remember being in her lap, and feeling like nothing could hurt me.” A bitter laugh escaped him. “How wrong I was.”

“She must have been an amazing woman, for your father to risk running away with her.”

John nodded pensively. The similarities in his own current situation had not escaped him. “Yes, I’m sure she was. But did he have the right, knowing the risk? Knowing the danger he put her in?” He could not mask the feeling behind these words; he knew they spoke in double meanings and of their parallel circumstances, and in a way he was asking her permission, and it was all so heady and terrifying he could hardly stand it.

How do people live like this, he marveled? Feeling so much, all the time?

“That’s a fair question,” agreed Helen, nodding. “But maybe more importantly, I think if you could ask her if he’d been worth the risk…if you had been worth the risk…I think I know what she would have said. I am certain she would have said yes.”

Her eyes met his, the candlelight reflecting in those caramel orbs almost rendering them gold, and it took every iota of self-control John possessed not to drag her into his lap. Instead he settled for pressing his lips to her knuckles, so grateful for this woman who brought such light into his life.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes, you do,” she answered quietly. “And it’s not about who deserves what, anyway.” It was about two people who like each other, who understand the risks, and who make a decision to be together—or not. She didn’t say that part aloud. She hoped she didn’t need to.

A few moments more, and John managed to regain his composure, though he didn’t let go of Helen’s hand. When he found his voice again, it came rough with emotion.

“Would you like to see my books?”

She smiled, and it was like the sun from behind a cloud.

“Yes.”

#john wick #helen wick #john wick x helen #john wick fic #keanu reeves #john wick the night nurse

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ceilidho · 8 months

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Do you like writing ghostxreader or soap×ghost more?

mmmm i would've said ghost/reader in the past but im starting to really enjoy writing ghostsoap (that being said, i've rly only written like ONE proper ghostsoap prompt and a bunch of ghost/soap/reader, but i've got a looottt of ideas). the fun thing about ghostsoap is that i can be a bit wilder.

i looooooveeee ghost/reader to death but of course, a necessary byproduct of writing x reader fics is that ppl tend to project and feel very strong emotions, so i prefer being a tad bit less unhinged with those fics. ALSO the relationship dynamics of ghostsoap (ghoap lol) are just so interesting like truly the definition of bouba and kiki LMAO

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laylainalaska · 3 months

Text

I watched Foundation S1-2 this week and really enjoyed it, for certain values of enjoyed, copying over my write-up from DW, now with corrected character names since I've looked them up rather than spelling them from vague osmosis from the show.

(Blacklist the Foundation tag if you don't want to be spoiled from gifs, as I plan to promptly go seek out the least hinged gifs from this entirely unhinged show and bombard everyone with them.)

This show is a bonkers SF soap opera with gorgeous production values, Lee Pace hamming it up in crop tops, and a series of increasingly off the rails holographic versions of a dead chessmaster mathematician deploying his 9999-step plan to save the galaxy. I've literally seen nothing about this at all in my social circles, to the extent that I didn't even really know about it until the spouse started watching it. I was kind of halfway glancing at the screen now and then, if I happened to be in the room, for the first half of season one (and have only the vaguest idea what happened in the first few episodes, based on later events), then got invested and eventually completely hooked in season two, which also picks up after a 100-year timeskip so the cast has changed a lot anyway. Although between stasis pods, cloning, and holograms, it's mostly the same actors. (We have a running joke that by season 3 the cast will be at least 50% Cleons and Hari Seldons by volume.)

Anyway, so it is good? Hard to say! It's sort of like if Expanse and Game of Thrones had a (somewhat more optimistic) baby, in which the budgets are huge, the planets are beautiful, the spaceships are shiny, and lots of Big Feelings happen. The Evil Empire is run by an endless series of clone emperors played by Lee Pace in Romanesque armor and capes with massive amounts of scenery-chewing and an immortal robot bodyguard he occasionally has sex with. They have All The Clones in storage, so if he gets killed, they'll just transfer his memories and activate another one! Meanwhile the rebellion is being orchestrated as a 4000-step multi-century Xanatos gambit by a guy who started by having himself killed and activating a digital copy. Interestingly though, there is so much going on, and it's taking so much time for his plan to come to fruition, that it never really feels like the two of them directly pitted against each other (at least not that much), it's more like all of the stuff that happens along the way, the planets and the pretty spaceships and the people we meet who struggle and fight and save each other along the way.

I have to say that while I'm occasionally reminded by certain plot points and tropes that this is a series based on books from the 1970s, they did a good enough job with racebending, presumable genderbending, and so forth that it rarely feels like it. (Also, though I only know the books from general osmosis, I'm fairly confident the plot has gone way off-book anyway.) In season two there are no less than four young female characters of color in major plot-defining roles, there's a central gay couple whose loyalty to each other in the face of the Empire is a major plot point, and in general it's just a pretty, pretty show full of pretty people and pretty planets (and occasionally some really dazzling space-operatic SF stuff). It is definitely the most OTT and operatic thing I've watched since probably the MCU, and I'm really enjoying it.

Under the cut, out-of-order and largely out-of-context comments on various things I had a reaction to (mostly season 2 since that's where I got invested).

This show is an emotional roller coaster of the highest order. How many different instances of presumed dead and identity-switching can we pack into a single episode?

CONSTANT MY BELOVED. Season 2 in general gives great female characters, I already loved Salvo (;__;) and I also really enjoyed the ladies from the Cloud Dominion, but Constant!! She's just so funny and fun and so absolutely deadpan about everything from conning randos on some backwater alien planet to kidnapping a guy. I was so glad she lived through all of the half-dozen times she almost certainly should have died.

I was surprisingly upset about formerly-trapped-in-the-Radiant half-crazy Hari's death, "surprisingly" because, well, Hari being Hari, and also, it wasn't like this leaves us entirely without Hari Seldons, there's still Creepy Monolith Hari and who knows how many other copies out there. But that one had been through enough with Gaal and Salvor that he really felt like a different person. He's still a manipulative sack of dicks but I liked him! I was sad, but at least hoping he was backed up somewhere! And then two episodes later the most excellent reveal that he and Gaal faked the whole thing! I thoroughly loved all of that. Gaal hugging him! <333

"Don't trust the planet of the creepy utopian space psychics!" Orion and I were chanting at the screen, while they proceeded to not listen to us and it was, predictably, a bad idea. Seriously, when in all of sci-fi was trusting the creepy psychic utopia a good idea?

I had guessed/hoped that the guy with the whispership (can't remember his name) was going to warp into the plaza and save Constant from execution, but I really wasn't sure, and even with an inkling it was going to happen, that was an AMAZING entrance, A+++, no notes. Especially after Constant gave her speech and everything seemed to be setting her up to be a martyr to the Foundation, I was less and less hopeful she was going to get out of it alive somehow. Excellent rescue, very pleased.

I really enjoyed the entire subplot with the Evil Empire Honorable Space Admiral (can't remember anyone's names here either) and the scene in which he justifies his continued loyalty to the Empire is really a good scene. I mean, it's awful. But you can see his reasoning. He can't overthrow the Empire, if he refuses orders it won't change anything, he and everyone he loves will die, and someone else will be put in his place and follow the orders anyway. But then the whole thing with Constant's rescue points out that it may not be possible to change the entire Evil Empire, but you can make a lot of difference for just one person.

But I still wanted him to make better or at least different choices on the blowing up the planet sequence! I guess it all worked out according to Hari's 9999-step plan (my death is only the beginning! the death of my planet is only the beginning!) but that hurted.

Between Honorable Space Admiral and his fighter pilot husband, I was absolutely *not* expecting the husband to be the one of the two of them that survived. However, Honorable Space Admiral and whispership guy got a dynamite final episode (the fistfight with Cleon! never has a man deserved so much punching! the airlock switch!) and they both got to go out in an excellent death scene.

The entire thing with Terminus getting blown up! And then Deus Ex Monolith! And Constant's dads and Space Admiral's Space Husband are alive after the whole exploding planet fell on them! (I was SO happy Constant's family got reunited, I was so afraid she and Space Dads were going to go down each thinking the other one had died.) I think this episode gave me emotional whiplash.

SALVOR NO. WHAT WAS THAT EVEN. She just randomly died at the end there?? Come onnnnn. We already got like 12 death fake-outs in the last couple of episodes! Why'd that one have to be real?!

If time passes differently in the monolith, does that mean the entire rescued Terminus population are still going to be around after the second 150-year timeskip? I have questions!

Speaking of time passing differently in the monolith, best dialogue: Whispership guy: Whoa, it's dark. How long was I in there, anyway? Constant: Three years. Paulie: More like three hours. Constant: We agreed we weren't going to tell him! I love them. <3333

That sure was A Lot with the Cleons. And now I guess there's an entire Cleon/Cloud Dominion dynasty out there somewhere just waiting to cause trouble.

So yeah, I'm really enjoying my bombastic sci-fi soap opera! Season 3 when pls.

#foundation #foundation tv

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callsign-bunnie · 1 year

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Bunnyboy Rudy and Coyote Graves interactions? Maybe some overprotective Alejandro/team?

I guess I need to eventually do Coyote Graves headcanons (Also if I misunderstood and you want a oneshot, I can do that, lol)

Graves has a tendency to bare his teeth at Rodolfo so everyone takes that as a threat, especially since Rodolfo is a prey animal

Alejandro does not let Rodolfo alone with Graves, ever

Even Soap will make sure to stay in the room, though he claims it's to keep Alejandro from doing anything

Rodolfo isn't sure how he feels about Graves because he's still pissed at him for arresting Alejandro

He does try to be polite, however, since they made the decision to trust him and let him into the group

Graves is honestly not trying to do anything, but everyone's reaction to him even glancing at Rodolfo kind of pisses him off

Like seriously, they're cool with the unhinged panther just picking him up but Graves can't even smile at him

Like, Idk, I really like the idea of Graves having to earn his way into the group's trust and I feel like this AU would really have to play with that

Anyway, Graves constantly asks Alejandro what the stick up his ass is for

Alejandro constantly threatens to kick his ass

Rodolfo is getting kind of irritated because he can handle himself, he's been handling himself for many many years now, and Graves is not an exception to the "I will kill" rule

None of them back off, though

Laswell kind of just tries to explain it like "its from a place of love" but Rodolfo thinks its from a place of bullshit

Maybe this sort of leads Rodolfo to withdraw from the group and try to hang out with graves more?

?? I dunno, seems interesting

#hybrids #bunny rodolfo #coyote graves cod #rodolfo parra #rodolfo cod #phillip graves #graves cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare ii #headcanons

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ghouljams · 4 months

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And here is my first OC/Reader concept talk !

Okay, so I found a bunch of little somethings I had written for the fae!Au darling I wasn’t sure about. I’m still not sure about who she will be with, which one of the guys she will drive crazy, but here is what I have so far :

She is supposed to be a charismatic young woman who knows what she wants. Very independent, she believes she doesn’t need anyone to achieve her goals ; however, she doesn’t run away from friendships and possible romantic relationships. She even sometimes indulges in one-night stands, especially when stressed.

At first, she might seem cold and « too out of anyone’s league ». Some people send her lots of nasty side-eyes even though she didn’t do anything to them because of how independent she is and how she isn’t afraid of showing it. She gets sneers, sometimes, but she doesn’t care. The thing is that she is actually a warm soul with lots of « soft mommy » vibes.

Piss her off, though, and she will elegantly make you regret the very day you decided to be born.

Very « sexy and fashionable vampire » vibes, too ? Which can be quite confusing for a lot of weaker fae because she doesn’t have a ounce of magic in her, so they don’t know if she’s just a regular human or a being so powerful she can trick anyone into thinking she is one.

I’ve also written a long list of things that are supposed to give the same vibe as her when put together ? I don’t know if it makes sense, but here :

Organised and tidy - amazingly stylish - confident - interested in films, literature and arts - wise beyond her years - the mom friend that can make you horny without even trying - drinks tea on her balcony - intelligent eyes - a mix between Ravenclaw and Slytherin ?

Deep conversations - face masks - silver anklets - aesthetic instagram feed - poetry - mythology - dark chocolate in winter - warm blanket and stormy nights -large bookshelves filled with classics and first editions - long, elegant dresses and tailored suits - high heels and painted stiletto nails - tea with honey - train rides across the country - classical piano playlists - black cars - white cats - old caste ruins.

I was thinking about her being a journalist, who can gain information by effortlessly making people uncomfortable or by making them feel at ease with her with just a shift of her posture. The kind who is determined to get every single thing she needs to write really good articles ; who will always be respectful but can put people back in their place really quickly. There’s something about her that you can’t quite place, that can have people actually wonder if she’s human or not.

Or, I was thinking about her being a model, with a catwalk so entrancing you can’t bring yourself to look at anyone else on the runway. Who always finds the right pose to enhance the outfit she’s wearing, and is the dream of every photographer. The model who is not an object, and is not afraid to say it, even if the ambiance on set shifts on the more uncomfortable side because of it. Who isn’t afraid to say things, who doesn’t take shit from anyone - managers, photographs, paparazzis and even other models.

That’s all I have for now. since Ghost, Soap and Price are already taken, she won’t be their darling ; but I don’t know who will suit her best, and how to organise their meeting. I really need to read about the different kinds of fae folks, maybe it will give me an idea.

I feel like she would not be unhinged enough for König, but at the same time, maybe I could find a way to create an interesting dynamic ? Some kind of chase, as she won’t be an easy prey even if she does not know fae people exist. I also have no idea how to write Gaz for some reason ? I’m never satisfied whenever I try, but maybe they would fit together quite well ? Or Roach. Or Keegan. Or…

So many fine characters to choose from, and no real idea on what to make them.

Anyway, I hope you like her, Friend ! Ideas for the Viking!AU are also flowing, this is getting more and more interesting by the minute. I’ve fallen into a wormhole of binge-eating myths and knowledge and playlists, and it’s amazing. Thank you again for inspiring me.

Lots of love from Mii, and may inspiration never leave you ! (Take some time to yourself too, though - that’s important o/) 💚

Hmmmmm The aesthetic is very clear, and you definitely seem to know the character. Maybe too well? If that makes sense. Sometimes when I have a character this clear in my head it's hard to fit them into another character's story.

I guess my advice on boy choice is to look at who you think she would grow the most in a story with. I can see someone like Roach who operates more under the radar might be an interesting foil to someone that's clearly not shying away from the spotlight. Similarly Keegan's humor and sort of rough charm might be a good foil for her effortless elegance. You could also look at who would compliment her bad traits well, who's going to fill in the gaps in her personality? Idk what those gaps are, but that might also help you figure out who you want to pair her with.

Fun OC! We love a sexy vampire babe.

Lots of love!!! I go where the wind takes me, and where the inspiration drags my dumb ass. Never anywhere good. <3

#ghoul speaks #oc talk

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clairdeluneandmurder · 1 year

Text

A selection of unhinged quotes from my political theory professor:

"Socrates has a tiny ghost in his head telling him when things are wrong. Unfortunately, it doesn’t tell him when things are right so he’s just really annoying."

*Brings a 1-liter bottle of sparkling water to every class and drinks the whole thing during lecture.*

“The flood happened because God looked down at earth and said ‘I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do with this’, and so he nerfed us again.”

“God comes down and asks ‘Where my people at?’ And Adam and Eve are like ‘We done fucked up’.”

“Any schmuck can match their socks to their shoes but the mark of a true gentleman is matching your socks to your mood.” - said because someone insulted his neon pink socks.

“At that point, everyone else would be dead and it would just be Carl Schmidt waddling around Germany all alone.”

Prof: “Is the Illuminati still a thing with your generation?” Student: “Yeah” Prof: “The number one rule of the Illuminati is toughen the fuck up.”

“You can read Hobbes’ Behemoth if you're like a glutton for punishment or something.”

“The neat thing about soup is that you can start with the same ingredients and end up with a new soup every time.”

“If any of you steal my pies I’m going to assume you’re possessed by a demon... I made a pie yesterday. You have NO IDEA how much fruit goes into one of those fuckers.”

“The great thing about Locke is he’s dead. Once you’re a corpse you can be used for anything.”

“I am the crazy leftist professor your parents warned you about. I will make you read Marx and I will say that racism is bad. Sue me.”

"de Sade would be great at being on the internet. And I do mean that as an insult."

Brought a jar to class and put a dollar in it every time he used the word ‘neoliberal’, said he'd give us the money that goes in at the end of the semester. (we each got 3 bucks, there are 15 people in the class)

"Time is a flat circle and I am but a lonely goldfish cracker."

“By a show of hands, who is hungover today? I’ll go first to make you feel better. I am hungover today, be nice to me."

Starts lecture by writing on the whiteboard: “THE ECONOMY IS STUPID”

“Just to be clear, I’m not saying we should guillotine people who open soap shops on Etsy.”

“People don’t get my Simpsons references anymore. You kids today with your sponge bob and anime.”

“If you need help, please ask for it. The worst thing that happens is I send you a super condescending email and you’re no worse off.”

“You’re a shitty libertarian if you accidentally become a Leninist.”

“Anyone seen one of these modern garbage trucks? It’s sick right?! Pretty fucking cool!” proceeds to do an impression of a garbage truck “Marx would love to drive around a dope robot truck.”

"That’s what makes babies just awful. They don’t understand that they don’t always get what they want."

"For how many of y’all does getting stoned and staring at a wall to ponder morality sound like a great class?"

“I once had a student use the topic 'The only way to commune with the aliens is through nuclear warfare' for this assignment, nothing you write can scare me anymore."

“I'm not going to make you read this. It’s 4 volumes, 2500 pages, and mostly about how linen is produced. Moments of brilliance though.”

“I think we should replace the death penalty with public humiliation. ”

"Crude Freudism will get you 80% of the way there 90% of the time."

"I’m going to throw my uncle under the bus here… Actually, I fucking hated that guy and he’s dead so whatever."

"The best thing you can do for your future happiness is to never think about politics. …I say to a bunch of people enrolled in a 400-level political theory class. Y’alls mental health is fucked I guess."

"God tells you not to do the one Bad Thing and Eve is just so sexy that man has to do the one Bad Thing."

"I haven’t worn a 1950’s bra but I’ve heard they’re very uncomfortable. …Not that I’m opposed, I just don’t have the access and I've been banned from three museums so far."

"Course evaluations are available now y’all. I don’t care what you say about me or the class, but make sure you mention how great my hair is."

"Identity politics can be useful, but I think we’ve probably taken it too far since now we’re at the point where Kid Rock is shotgunning 18 packs of bud light on Twitter as a form of protest."

"We basically live in an aristocracy where you can vote. Sorry to disappoint you if you think Joe Biden is a communist."

"Do you know why we didn’t celebrate international workers day on May first? Because America says fuck you, that’s why."

#professor quotes #unhinged quotes #political theory #he is seriously the best professor I've ever had #yes i have more quotes #they're all this insane

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lolabangtan · 2 years

Text

01 | shoplifter

Someone’s mistake can become someone else’s misery, or at least that’s what handsome tycoon Kim Taehyung thinks when his secretary gets caught shoplifting.

index • next

Word count: 7.6k

Warnings: alcohol consumption.

A/N: here’s the deal: you don’t ask my what happened to my other WIP and I keep updating this fic, k?

“I just… can’t believe it.”

“Yeah, it’s like… something out of a soap opera. Is that— is that a—?”

Three pairs of eyes are glued to the screen, glowing with the light. Nayeon blinks, still confused and totally astonished at the scene unfolding before her; it really is beyond belief – or, at least, beyond hers.

Silence kicks in, and they continue to watch Mr Kang, who is about to no longer be Kim Taehyung’s secretary, as he takes an anti-wrinkle cream jar. That’s when Jimin finally loses it, bursting out in laughter despite Nayeon and Taehyung’s disapproving glances, and having even to lean on his arm so as not to fall off the chair he’s sitting in.

“It’s not funny— God, you too?” Noticing the other man is trying to hold his laugh too, she starts cackling up. “You better send for him now.”

“Will you fire him?” Jimin asks, finally calming down.

Taehyung fiddles with the edge of his glass of water, thinking. “I’ll have to, I can’t let Mr Kang stay… Besides, if it leaks out, we’ll get into some real trouble. I’ll hit HR up to see what we can do. Nayeon, could you do that for me? We have a meeting now.”

“Sure,” she murmurs. “Won’t you two eat something, though? It’s past lunchtime.”

‘We’ll have a bite later’, they say, knowing perfectly well they’ll just snap the most nutritionally poor piece of food out there and a can of soda. But it’s not her problem, so Nayeon gets up, fetches her things, and says goodbye. Of course, she’s curious to see how those two will manage Mr Kang turning out to be a shoplifter, but she’s even more eager to see how on earth Kim Taehyung finds a secretary in time before his father finds out.

“So…” Jimin walks up to the glass cabinet and stares into the family pictures. “Have you thought about how you’ll replace Kang before Father comes back from Japan?”

At his words, Taehyung only groans and collapses onto the desk, whining like a little boy; of course he hasn’t! He has no idea how to find a replacement in such a short time, and Mr Kang isn’t even fired yet. But he hopes Nayeon will help with that.

“Why don’t you let her deal with it? It’s her job, after all.”

Taehyung sighs. “You know I like to hire my staff personally… It’s best in the long term.”

He stares at his brother in silence, worn out by his constant storm of negatives and dodging answers. Then Jimin looks out the tall windows, to the vast view of Seoul’s morning ruckus. Everything looks so tiny from there, like they’re not even real, just toys pushing around.

“Come on, let’s eat out somewhere nice.” He turns around and grabs his jacket, grinning down at the weeping man. “My treat!”

With a giggle, although still concerned, Taehyung does the same and follows him.

Honestly, there had always been something odd about Kang. He was a hardworking man, sensible and loyal, so it wasn’t exactly a thing about his behaviour or the way he would socialise with his peers. No, actually, Taehyung never thought of him as unhinged, quite the contrary – Mr Kang had always been far too restrained. Of course, one’s flaws always have to leak out from somewhere. Pity that, for him, it would be by shoplifting.

Oh, the world is a weird place.

Mr Kang raises from his chair and bows to him as the two of them walk out of the office, and Taehyung tries to act as normal as possible. Can’t let him suspect a thing, can he?

They walk down the busy hall until they reach the lifts.

“My question is,” Jimin says as soon as the door closes, “where the fuck did you get the video from?”

“Namjoon sent it to me, it’s one of their shops in Itaewon,” he murmurs, scrolling down his phone. There’s an endless list of appointments scheduled for his day, even if the day already feels long enough.

Hey, Tae! he had sent. My secretary saw this video the other day, and I asked her to send it to me. Doesn’t he look like Mr Kang? Luckily, he got a hold of that video before it was too late, it hasn’t leaked out to the public yet. If his team plays their cards right, it never will, and he’ll tell his father and the rest of the board that Mr Kang handed in his notice.

It takes them barely fifteen minutes to arrive at the covered tent, following the delicious smell of food. Seeing that it’s pretty much empty, they take a seat and greet the vendor.

“Don’t get too obsessed about it, Nayeon will sort it out,” Jimin says and thanks to the man when he hands out their drinks. “Now, we should focus on finding you a replacement. I’m sure Mrs Kim will help you, and she won’t tell Father.”

“Can you tell Kang to cancel my meeting with Mrs Han on your way back? I’ll drop by at Delta Tower to talk to Namjoon-hyung,” he humbles, eyes fixed on his soda.

“Sure. I’ll look into it too.”

They’re served the food not long after, and Taehyung is ready to dig in while Jimin keeps scrolling down his phone, laughing at some silly tweet, probably. The street is silent except for the drizzling coming from the trunk, so it’s the perfect moment to sulk and wonder why he’s so unlucky.

Something shakes his arm out of a sudden. “Come on, don’t be so defeatist!” Jimin chirps. “You’re acting so weird, it’s not the end of the world!”

“I’m just tired…”

They stare into each other’s eyes for a second, and Taehyung bursts out in laughter, or tears, it’s not clear whether he’s laughing or crying. Both, probably. But he sobs on the metal counter for a bit while Jimin pats his back.

“Why does this have to happen to me?” he whines. “It’s not fair!”

“Life’s not fair, Tae.”

He’ll need the biggest self-care session ever when he gets home; hot chocolate, a bubble bath, his comfy pyjamas, and his favourite TV show ever to shut down and get over this awful morning. Hopefully, talking to his cousin will bring some light to it, and at least that way it’ll look like he’s tried to do something to fix it if his father ever finds out. Which he probably will when Mr Kang leaves.

“Wanna go for a game tomorrow morning? It’ll cheer you up,” Jimin says, rubbing his hand up and down his brother’s back.

Taehyung doesn’t sit up. “I don’t know…”

“Come on! Just the two of us, and we could go out for lunch later. Maybe some Italian?”

What if they run into their father at the country club? – it wouldn’t be a surprise to find that Mr Kim decided to go for a game of golf right after landing before even dropping by his house. No, it’s too much risk. Taehyung doesn’t want to fight him yet.

“Um, we’ll see, but I can’t promise you anything,” he replies quietly. “I wish I could just chug down a bottle of soju and go off— but it’d be weird to be drunk at the office.”

“Only when you’re the only one drunk, actually,” Jimin says with a laugh.

Taehyung rolls his eyes but giggles anyways, finding him way too amusing, as always. Honestly, he can always count on Jimin’s bluntness, as shocking as it might come off as sometimes. But he’s sincere, and he appreciates that. They’ve known each other their whole life, that’s true, they’re brothers – but still, it’s good to know that Jimin will always give him a piece of honesty even when his other siblings won’t dare.

His phone buzzes on the counter.

[Wednesday, 2:12 PM] Namjoon-hyung: I’ve got a minute to spare now if you wanna talk.

[Wednesday, 2:12 PM] Namjoon-hyung: come to my office.

“God, look at the time,” Taehyung blurts out.

They’re both practically done with the food, so he rushes to pay and grabs his jacket, promising Jimin he will head back to the office as soon as he’s done talking with Namjoon.

The ride to Delta Tower takes only ten minutes. Taehyung steps out of the cab – with the bitter regret of not having brought his driver with him – and walks into the tall, almost endless building; his friend and senior, Kim Namjoon, has been managing the operations of Delta Enterprises for a few years already, and he’s relatively close to Mr Jeon, the chairman. A mysterious, hardworking, strict man. Taehyung has seen him and his family only once, at a fundraising party – and he was six years old.

As he walks into the vast entrance hall, one of the receptionists recognises him and lets him go through the gates. Then he presses the button and waits for the lift.

His phone vibrates again. Jimin is already talking to the H&R department.

With a ding, the lift doors open, and Taehyung steps in, pressing the floor immediately. Just as they’re closing again, however, he notices a figure running his way, a woman carrying a heavy plastic bag and wearing stiletto heels. As quickly as he can, Taehyung puts his hand in between, and the doors stop before opening again.

You sneak into the lift with a tired sigh.

“Thank you for that,” you let out, still breathing heavily. “I’m in quite a hurry, so I appreciate it.”

“No need.”

He can’t help checking you out; although a bit dishevelled, you look smart, but there’s no identification hanging from your neck, so you can’t be an employee. The bag between your arms is filled with self-care snacks and soju, which isn’t exactly suitable for work.

Also, it could be the new fashion, of course, but why are you wearing sunglasses and a mask indoors?

Honestly, you’re a bit weird.

“Anything wrong, sir?” you ask with a harsh tone, arching an eyebrow. He must have stared for too long. “Can I help you with anything?”

Taehyung looks away. “Uh, which floor are you going to?”

“Ah, yes, sorry— the 39th, top floor,” you let out, a bit embarrassed, but still adamant.

That’s Mr Jeon’s office. Who are you? However, he doesn’t have the time to ask nor wonder because the ding sounds again, and it’s his turn to step out of the lift. Namjoon’s office is a bunch of floors below your destination.

“Goodbye.”

“Goodbye…”

Maybe he stared at you with a blank face? It’s got him into trouble before, it wouldn’t be the first time. Or perhaps it was because he’s a man. Of course, it surely can’t be comfortable to be trapped in a lift with a man you don’t know and be stared at in silence. God, he was so inconsiderate and rude.

“Oh, good afternoon, Mr Kim.”

“Good afternoon— ah, Jungkookie!” A young man in an elegant suit passing by stops in his tracks when Taehyung speaks up, peeling his eyes off a bunch of papers. “Were you going to see Namjoon-hyung? – see you later, Mrs Lee – because I wanted to talk to him too,” he continues as he lowers his voice.

Jungkook nods as they walk down the corridor. “Yeah, he told me. Sounds ridiculous, hyung! I mean, I’ve seen people get fired for bullying, stealing money, but shoplifting—?” The two of them keep quiet when they pass by an employee, greeting her. “Shoplifting skincare products? Like, do you not pay him or what? Well, whatever, it’s just— it’s just ridiculous.”

“You tell me,” he replies with a whine.

When they reach the door to Namjoon’s office, Taehyung knocks gently until he hears a soft ‘come in’. Namjoon has his back turned to the two of them, keeping himself busy by watering his little bonsai.

“Ah! You got here pretty fast, I thought you’d take longer. Go on, take a seat. Jungkook-ah, are those the reports from the finance department?”

“Yes – I looked through them, everything looks normal,” he murmurs. Normally, Jungkook would be dying to go back to his office and keep playing whatever silly videogame he’s found. However, this time he wants to stay and feed on the gossip, but he has to be invited first. “Do you want to double check them too, hyung?”

Namjoon frowns for a second. “Don’t call me hyung at work, it discredits you.”

“It’s just us, don’t worry,” Taehyung says then with a sly grin. “But Jungkookie can stay if he wants, he already knows about Mr Kang – it just can’t get out of this room.”

It takes Jungkook just a second to let out a squelch of happiness and drag a chair towards the desk before he takes a seat.

You’re staring into the lift door with a blank faze, still thinking about the stranger’s obnoxious staring – really, do people have no manners anymore or are you just too old-fashioned? Anyway, it’s your day off, and it’s pretty hard already not to keep checking your phone in case the office was sieged by zombies or your assistant turned out to be a prosecuted defaulter.

With a ding, the door opens in front of you. You sigh, secure the bag between your arms, and step out.

The hall connects with Mr Jeon’s office by an elegant corridor. You see your reflection walking past the long mirror, and you have to admit, you do look a bit suspicious wearing sunglasses and a mask.

Maybe that hot stranger wasn’t too off-track.

That’s when the muffled sound of Mr Jeon’s screaming voice comes to you. He sounds not pissed off – rageful. You love the man, you really do, he’s known you since you were a little kid— but God, what a temper. And it runs in the family.

“— a spoiled, ungrateful, entitled child who knows absolutely nothing about accountability!”

As you reach the end of the corridor, you walk up to the desk of Mr Jeon’s secretary with a grimace she mimics.

“From one to ten, how bad is it?”

The woman sighs. “He’s more disappointed than mad, but Miss Miyeon is with him right now.” She then looks down at the plastic bag and lets out a soft chuckle when she notices what’s inside. “Did she ask you to come, Ms O? Well, maybe your presence will help. I’ll keep that for you.”

“Oh, thanks, Ms Lee.” You hand her the heavy bag. “I’ll go in, then. Wish me luck.”

You take off the sunglasses and the mask before knocking on the door and opening up, no need to wait for permission. The voices go quiet as you walk into Mr Jeon’s office; they’ve both turned their heads towards the door, and you see Miyeon tearing up, her nose reddened and her cheeks puffy. His father, on the opposite, looks like he’s blushing out of pure anger, but they’re both quiet, thank God, when you greet them.

“Good afternoon, Y/N,” he mumbles.

You close the door behind your back. “Hello, Mr Jeon. I came because Miyeon called me… God, what are you two bickering about this time?”

But Miyeon shakes her head in panic. Wrong words. Oh Lord, have mercy.

“Oh, well! Perhaps a responsible adult will understand what I’m trying to get her to see,” Mr Jeon barks. “Miyeon, you just can’t keep running away from your responsibilities! Your brother is younger than you, but he took the lead when you dropped it, and I haven’t heard a word of complaint from him ever since!”

“That’s because Jungkook—!”

But her father raises his finger, and she shuts up, pouting. “You don’t get involved with the company, you don’t go on the dates your mother and I arrange for you, but you keep asking for things, and we keep giving them to you!”

Jeon Miyeon is, in a few words, a human bomb. She’s gorgeous and confident, and you would totally date her if you were into women – as if you could ever handle someone like her. With her hair dyed blonde and her bold makeup, she’s a menace to her parents, especially since she decided she wanted to be an artist and quit her job at the company. That day was probably traumatic for them.

The thing is, despite the clear differences between you and Miyeon, you’ve always got along. In a way, she completes you.

“Look at Y/N, then!” Jeez, Mr Jeon is really fishing for painful comparisons now. “She’s responsible, takes her job seriously, and most importantly – she appreciates Chairwoman O’s efforts!”

Well, actually, you pretty much wasted your childhood in college and later on working for your grandmother, but yeah. You get what he means.

Hesitantly, you raise your hand. “Not to be impertinent, but you have this conversation every two, three months. May I know what triggered it this time?” Because he sounds serious enough to figure out there must be something else this time. “Is it something—?”

“He wants me to attend a meeting tomorrow morning, but I have someone myself to see—”

“Her ‘agent’, if that even means anything,” Mr Jeon cuts her off. “So, I have to tell the board that my eldest child can’t attend because she has to talk about drawings.”

“I don’t even work for you anymore!” she groans.

“Oh, but you still live off my money,” he retorts, crossing his arms. Miyeon goes silent; she knows he’s right, but it takes time to take off in such a world. Why can’t he just be a supportive father and let her be? “I’m just asking you to give something in return since we’re… well, helping you try to make a living out of art.”

Miyeon looks away and mumbles, “You don’t even believe in me.”

With a groan, Mr Jeon walks back to his desk and sits down – or rather slumps into the chair. It’s impossible, he will never get to reason with her, it’s mission impossible. One day, perhaps, when he’s lying on his deathbed, Miyeon will apologise for not seeing it.

“Okay, I’ll give you two options.”

Both you and Miyeon look up, curious and a bit frightened. Suddenly, it feels almost as if she’s about to be offered a deal with the devil.

But if Mr Jeon is the devil, his daughter is Satan. Scary as shit. “Okay, I’m listening.”

“I will leave you alone and never ask you to get involved with the company again, except of course some social duties as family,” he says, “but you’ll have to give back all your cards. And you’ll have to start paying rent at home and share expenses, too—” Miyeon gets up from the chair out of pure shock, eyes wide open and already whining. “The other option is, I’ll get you a job outside Delta which you’ll have to keep for three, four months. If you’re able to do it, then I’ll understand you’re made of tougher stuff.”

“Dad, this is crazy, you’re crazy—” She’s literally at a loss of words, looking around the room and babbling in search of something to say. “You can’t kick me out! Besides, who would I even work for?”

“I’ll see to that, don’t worry. Now, you’re dismissed – I have to talk to Namjoon-ssi and your brother.”

Miyeon is still in shock and doesn’t listen to her father, so you thank him for his time and gently walk her out of the office. You can hear her soft whimpers of desolation; really, she does not have a stable personality. One second, she could drive over you with her confidence, and the next she’s crying like a baby because daddy cut off her money.

When you close the door, Ms Lee gets up with a pitiful smile before handing the plastic bag back to you. You sigh and take it, you know you’ll need it later.

Anyway, you put on your mask and glasses again.

The lift suddenly dings, and the doors open to reveal the sight of Miyeon’s little brother and Kim Namjoon, the company’s COO. The latter looks a bit more abashed at running into you – or rather, at running into her – but Jungkook greets you with one of his bunny smiles.

“Ah, hello, noona— noona, are you okay?” he asks with a frown. Miyeon doesn’t answer. “You look weird… Did dad say anything—?”

“Long story, Kook,” you whisper.

“Ah, okay, gotcha. Sorry.”

After some awkward seconds of silence, the two men continue their way down the corridor, and you get into the lift. You put your hand on her shoulder, and that’s when she starts sobbing, finally alone.

“It’s so unfair!” she groans. “They’re filthy rich, they can absolutely help me with my art! They just don’t want to! They think I’m shit!”

You roll your eyes and push the button. “That’s not true, they love you—”

“Wait!”

Namjoon is running back to you. He sneaks into the lift in time and pushes the button back to his floor, smiling awkwardly at you. With a soft blush, Miyeon wipes off her tears and slyly checks on the screen of her phone that her mascara isn’t smudged, making you try to fight off a smirk.

“I— I forgot my laptop at the office,” he murmurs.

Then he looks at you, but unlike the stranger from earlier, he doesn’t stare. Since you’re a CEO and all, you’ve got into trouble before for visiting Delta Tower often, even if the two families have been friends for decades. So, instead of not dropping by anymore, you decided to hide your identity. You’re not sure how the mask and the sunglasses work with the ‘not raise attention’ concept, but things have been smooth ever since, so nowadays you’re just the weird woman wearing a mask and sunglasses.

During the lift ride, Namjoon thinks of a thousand things to tell her to comfort her, but he doesn’t dare to say anything. Crushing on her boss’ daughter from the distance seems far safer.

“I, uh, get off here,” he murmurs. “I hope you have a nice day?”

“Thanks, I’ll try.”

The doors open, and Namjoon rushes out to pick up his laptop and go back to Mr Jeon’s office.

“Honestly, the working thing doesn’t sound too bad?” you say. And it’s true; just a couple of months working, and she’ll make sure her father doesn’t bug her with that anymore. “I don’t understand why you didn’t immediately accept.”

“It’s just— ugh, I can’t, I need to be somewhere else next month, so I’ll be out of town for a couple of weeks,” Miyeon replies, gritting her teeth.

You frown. “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I wasn’t sure I was invited until a few days ago! It’s an exposition in Busan, and my agent got me a place to display some of my stuff,” she says. If she wasn’t so devastated, she’d probably look more excited, but you can still sense her happiness even through the misery. “But my dad can’t know.”

“Why?”

“Because he’ll totally use it against me! Can’t you already see it? The more desperate I am, the more he knows he’s got the winning hand. He’s Machiavellian, you know.”

You can’t hold your chuckle. “God, if anyone could hear you—!”

“It’s true!” Miyeon whines, throwing her head back. “You wouldn’t understand, you do everything your grandmother tells you to!” She then watches your blank face in silence and says, “That was unfair, sorry. But you get what I mean.”

“Well, I was lucky enough to enjoy meeting everyone’s expectations,” you murmur.

Speaking of which, you should be back in your office now. Seokjin will be furious if you’re late to the departmental all-hands meeting. Honestly, you’d be a bit more pleased about him if he just stuck to his actual responsibilities rather than going around chastising you, but your grandmother is going too, so you guess you’ll overlook it this time. But just this time.

“I’ll see if Ms Yoo is ready with the car,” you say, handing the plastic bag to your friend. “Enjoy the snacks, and give it a thought, will you?”

Miyeon frowns but still takes it. “Yoo as in Yoo Jeongyeon?”

“Yeah, I re-hired the LAVA model as my assistant. She says driving is her new passion. And she’s pretty good, really – at least she can go over thirty without getting an anxiety attack.”

With a ding, the doors open, and some people try to step in, immediately freezing as soon as they recognise Miyeon. They all bow to their boss’ daughter and claim to wait for the next one. The same thing happens a few floors below until the lift lands on the ground floor, and you step out into the busy hall, where you’re seen off by your friend; she walks away, and you take the lift again to get to the underground car park.

“Good afternoon, boss.” The girl greets you with a soft, polite smile. “Back to the office, right?”

“What’s with this sudden good mood?” you ask with an arched eyebrow as you get into the car, rummaging through your purse to fetch your pocket mirror.

Your lipstick looks just fine. “Oh, nothing, I just got a call from my cousin. She’ll be visiting us next week.”

“Do you need some time off?”

She drives the two of you out into the street. The ride from Yeouido to Gangnam doesn’t take long, and you keep listening to her plans so that you can map the changes and new schedules in your mind. You can always ask your secretary to drive you instead since it should be his job.

Back to reality, you look away from the car window. “How old are your nephews?”

“Oh, my nephew is four, and my niece is just seven months old.”

You nod slowly – you know Jeongyeon’s cousin is your age, so knowing there are people your age having babies feels really weird.

“How old was she when she married?” you insist, practically trying to torture yourself. Really, can’t you keep quiet? It’s none of your business, and every relationship is a whole new world. You don’t even know if her cousin wanted to get married. “If she’s got a four-year-old, she must’ve married very young.”

“Yeah, it was six years ago—! So, I think she was, uh, maybe twenty-two?”

Five years younger than me, Jesus Christ. You know that’s still younger than average, but… it’s better if that information never gets to your grandmother. You’d never hear the end of it.

Jeongyeon chuckles. “But Ranhee got married to her high school sweetheart, so of course they married young.”

You can’t pretend that’s not a relief.

Honestly, you’ve never been against marriage. You wouldn’t mind getting married to a man you love if the situation allowed it. It’s just that, due to your position, you’ve spent your entire youth being shoved at handsome heirs and successful CEOs, going to this and that blind date without even being asked if you actually liked any of them. ‘He’s handsome!’, ‘oh, but he’s so rich’, ‘his family shits gold’ and such, but never ‘hey, Y/N, is he kind? Considerate? Funny? Cute?’. So, you will marry for love and love only – and that’s why you’re totally single.

It’s as infuriating as knowing that you’re a child-breeding, money-inheriting piece of stock for them. An economical transaction – you’ve seen it being done before, and it never ends pretty for either of the ends.

If that’s how it’ll be, then you’d rather go to bed on your own every single night.

“Great results this quarter, you guys deserve to celebrate it.” At your beckoning, Seokjin turns back towards your laptop and presses the next slide. “Now, I know we’ve started many projects lately, especially with the marketing department, so we’ll give it a round-up since we’re all here.”

You make a pause to drink some water, and everyone uses it to grab their notebooks, laptops, or whatever they’re going to use to note your words down.

The meeting goes on for half an hour. You answer their questions and doubts, lay out your plans for each department, and let Seokjin, Yuna, and Joohyun take over for the rest of it. You don’t wanna tire your people out.

“I’m sending Hobi down to the cafeteria,” you murmur, scrolling down your phone. “Anyone wants anything?”

You’re back at your office, where your closest team sits.

“I could use some coffee,” Seokjin says.

With a smile, Hoseok takes note of the orders and gets going. He likes these little trips you send him on to walk around the building, greet people, and maybe even get a break from his bigger responsibilities. You know he’s a great secretary, you just had to learn to work with his personality.

“Is this a respectable company” – startled, you turn around to see an elegant old woman with her arms crossed – “or a fashion show?”

You smile, relieved. “Oh, you know I only hire hot people,” you say then with a chuckle.

Your grandmother walks into the room, nodding at them as a greeting, and Seokjin rises to let her sit down in front of you. It’s weird that she comes to the office to visit you personally, so there must be a reason she’s here.

“You look tired.”

Oh, not this again. “I’m doing perfectly fine… Is everything all right, Granny?”

“Of course,” she says, fumbling with her purse, “why shouldn’t it?” But you arch an eyebrow, and the woman sighs. “I’m entertaining the Jeons and the Kims to dinner tomorrow night, and it would be very nice if you could join us. Your cousins are coming too, Seokjin-ssi.”

“Joonie?”

“And your uncle’s eldest, Taehyung-ssi,” she says.

Apologetically, Jin groans. “Oh, I think my mother told you, but I have a trip to Gwacheon in the morning, and I certainly can’t miss it.”

Mrs O lingers her eyes on him – her draconian, steel-like eyes – until Seokjin almost starts to sweat, but she decides to be merciful and spares him, looking away. Now you are her victim.

Fortunately, Hobi walks in with two coffees in his hands, smiling after getting over the surprise of seeing your grandmother here.

“Ah, Chairwoman O!” he says. “Good afternoon. What brings you here, madam?”

“My neglecting grandchild, as you can see.”

You thank him quietly as he hands you your coffee, and Hoseok strikes again, “Can I bring you anything?”

However, the woman gets up solemnly, closing her eyes and sighing softly. She does know how to make you feel guilty. Then, she nods at the bunch of you again and beckons her secretary to let him know that she’s leaving already.

“I will let them know you can’t make it,” she murmurs, “again.”

You never go to these things, of course. Why would you? No, the question is, why would your grandmother invite to dinner opulent families with unmarried sons? Isn’t that a bit suspicious? Of course, you understand her concerns about having an unmarried granddaughter of your age, but she has to accept that you won’t be guilt-tripped into marriage, let alone get with a guy who’s just got some old money and a mother-crafted personality to answer for himself.

“Do you really have a trip to Gwacheon?” you ask, frowning. Well, if he did, you’d know about it.

Seokjin chuckles proudly. “For your information, I do; I have to babysit my brother’s dog while he and his wife are off to New York.”

“Lucky you!”

“Maybe you should just spare Mrs O for once and attend one of her matchmaking dinners,” Yuna says with a grin. “Who knows? You could meet someone interesting.”

Seokjin scoffs, gulping down his coffee. “If you’re talking about my cousins or Jungkookie, then Chairwoman O should spare her by letting her not come.” Joohyun frowns. “I mean, I love them, but Namjoon is totally in love with a girl from his company, Jungkook wants a torturer rather than a girlfriend, and Taehyung…”

You can’t help chuckling at his words; he’s talking so seriously, if you didn’t know him, you’d think he’s giving you a serious analysis of his family. Of course, you’re sure what he’s saying is true, but you don’t want to believe that Namjoon is in love with someone else when Miyeon is totally smitten.

Yuna looks at him. “What about Taehyung-ssi?”

Your phone buzzes on the desk, and you pick it up, completely disconnecting from the conversation.

[Wednesday, 3:36 PM] Miyeonie<3: I accepted.

[Wednesday, 3:36 PM] Miyeonie<3: what my cruel father proposed.

[Wednesday, 3:37 PM] You: WHAT

[Wednesday, 3:37 PM] You: for real?

[Wednesday, 3:38 PM] You: what is it? He won’t send you somewhere horrible, won’t he?

“Y/N!” Joohyun’s exclamation snaps you out of the chat, and you look up. “The IT department has postponed the meeting until tomorrow.”

You frown. “What? Why?”

“Wendy said they’ve found some issues with the new website, so it has to be fixed first, and then she’ll gather everyone to explain it,” she explains with a tired face. You sigh, leaning back on your chair, and she looks around. “I knew it’d make trouble, but we live in a modern world, I guess.”

“We sure do.”

[Wednesday, 3:43 PM] Miyeonie<3: I’ll use a fake name and work as a secretary at Kim International. Not as bad as I thought it’d be, honestly, but it still ruins my plans for the exhibition.

[Wednesday, 3:43 PM] Miyeonie<3: 😔

“Send for Wendy then, I want a full report on what happened,” you mumble as you check your phone again.

[Wednesday, 3:47 PM] You: you could always refuse and find another job.

[Wednesday, 3:47 PM] You: but then what’d be the point?

[Wednesday, 3:48 PM] Miyeonie<3: exactly 💀

“Good evening, Mrs Go.”

Taehyung walks into the large entrance hall, where the housekeeper takes his coat and sees him to the dining room. His parents and siblings are already sitting at the table, and their eyes get fixed on him as he walks into the smart room.

“You’re late,” his father says, still beckoning him to sit down.

“I got caught up with work,” he murmurs in response, a blank stare on his face. Taehyung then sits down and puts the napkin on his lap. “How was Japan?”

Mrs Kim rushes to intervene. “Let’s not talk about work while we’re eating, shall we?”

“Yes, you’re right, sorry.”

His mother smiles sweetly and serves him some of the food displayed on the table. Meanwhile, the conversation, fortunately, moves to not so stressing topics, such as the weather or his younger brother’s upcoming tests. Dinner at the family house is never any fun, so he guesses this will do for now.

Jimin is not here, he never comes over when Mr Kim is home.

“So, how are your violin lessons going, Eunbin? You could give us a little demonstration after we’ve gone through,” she says with a pleasing smile, gently wiping her mouth with the napkin.

With the background noise of his family’s conversation, Taehyung realises he doesn’t know whether he should join them or munch his food silently. If he doesn’t talk, his father will suspect there’s something wrong. But if he does, and he overdoes it, Mr Kim will notice something is going on with him.

So, he’s pretty much fucked up.

“So, Taehyung” – his father doesn’t even look up from his plate as he calls his name – “your mother said that you’ll be having dinner with Mrs O from Jungsim Enterprises. And Namjoon will be there. Is her granddaughter coming too?”

“I don’t know,” Taehyung murmurs.

Mrs Kim laughs, sipping her wine. “Probably not, O Y/N never comes to these things.”

“Then what’s the point?”

He can’t help but sigh and mutter a weak ‘I couldn’t refuse’. Mr Kim then insists that it’s pretty unpolite from Chairwoman O to invite a bunch of unmarried men to her house when you’re not even going to be there, but it also means that it’s a chance to get in the old lady’s good books if he ever needed to. Of course, Taehyung barely remembers your face, so it’s pretty much pointless.

“In that case,” his father continues, “you should let your mother set you up on a date.”

She nods gladly. “Chairman Jeon’s daughter is pretty and smart, and I believe she’s your age,” Mrs Kim continues, now a bit discouraged by her son’s blank face. “Why don’t you try and get to know her?”

Ah, yes, Jeon Miyeon. Not only an heiress-turned-broke artist, but she’s also the love of Namjoon’s life since his twenty-year-old ass landed on Mr Jeon’s office. Huh-uh, no, he’s got better things to do. And judging by the way she came out of his office weeping along with that weird, rude woman with the mask and sunglasses plus expensive stilettos combination, Miss Jeon isn’t on the best terms with daddy, and that’s a thing Taehyung doesn’t want to mess with – he’s got enough daddy issues at home.

“Doesn’t she have a boyfriend? He plays the guitar in a band,” his sister chips in. “Or that’s what I heard.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing serious.”

Mr Kim looks at them. “Of course it’s not; Jeon would only accept as a son-in-law a man capable of inheriting the company, something Mrs O has forgotten since she thinks any decent man would accept O Y/N without expecting to take on.”

Now, O Y/N… You’re a completely different story. Heiress to the Jungsim Group and CEO of Jungsim Tech Enterprises, you’ve got pretty much anything a woman would want. The fact that you repel any sort of romantic interactions is a good argument to prove it, even if your grandmother insists on setting you up.

Taehyung chuckles. He’s sure none of the guys who claim the strength necessary to be your husband could even handle dating you.

“Do you think what I’m saying is funny, Taehyung?” his father asks with a stern tone.

“Not at all, sir,” he murmurs with a poorly concealed smirk. “I was just wondering… if Miss O would even want a man who asked her to step out. It’s the company of her family, after all, isn’t it?”

But her father doesn’t frown or show any display of annoyance at his teasing words. Instead, Mr Kim smiles, smoothly cutting the steak with his cutlery knife.

“Exactly. If Chairwoman O says she’ll have to marry if she wants to inherit, then the choice is already made, is it not?

And Taehyung knows those words are directed to him too, even more than to you. If he wants to keep his status and power, he must marry. Maybe not now, but at some point; staying away from relationships and burying his heart in work probably won’t please his father for much longer.

“It is, sir.”

By the time you get out of the lift and walk into your flat, you’re totally dead. Exhausted, tired, knackered, whatever – what a long, long day, for God’s sake.

“Jesus Christ—!”

You almost drop your purse, the sight of Miyeon sitting on your couch in silence totally scaring the shit out of you. The TV is playing in the background. With a deep breath, you leave your heels anywhere and walk up to her with a frown.

“What are you doing here—? Are you drunk?” you ask then, grabbing an empty bottle of apple-flavoured soju. “Is this because of your dad?”

Miyeon suddenly lets out a sob. “He totally hates me, Y/N!”

“No, he doesn’t.”

Sighing again, you take a seat next to her.

“But he does,” she mumbles, sniffling. “That’s why he’s trying to ruin my dreams all the time. He’s been so… impossible to deal with since mom divorced him! Honestly, he had it coming. Fucking asshole.” You pat her back, and Miyeon rests her head on your shoulder. “And I made a fool of myself in front of Namjoon-ssi today.”

“No, you didn’t,” you say in an attempt to comfort her. She probably did.

“How do you know?”

“Because he’s a cool guy, and cool guys don’t judge people for showing their feelings,” you insist and grab the other bottle of soju. “Isn’t that why you like him? Apart from his humongous tits—”

“Shut up!” she groans, stifling a laugh.

The two of you stay silent, clinging to each other. Your fingers stroke her hair in circular patterns as you stare into the nothingness of your living room, wondering what you could do to help her. You could take her in, but your grandmother will be furious if she ever finds out you’re ‘promoting idleness and the neglect of young people’s responsibilities’. In Chairwoman O’s language, that means you’d be helping her find herself – and God forbid someone does that in your world

“I still want to go,” Miyeon mumbles, “to Busan.”

It’s a big deal, a great chance to prove herself in front of influential people, so you do feel sorry for her. If only there was something you could do, you’d do it immediately.

“I know, I just had an idea!”

Oh, that sounds terribly bad. “What idea? Nothing crazy, I hope?”

“No…! Remember the other day, when you said your grandmother wanted you to take a few days off since you were so stressed?”

“I’m not stressed, I just have a lot of work to do and not enough time,” you grunt, gulping down the soju. It tastes sweet and fruity, and you chug it down like you’re drinking water. “I’m not stressed.”

“You already said that— well, whatever, I came up with a plan, and I want you to listen carefully.”

With a confused face, you sit back up and leave the bottle on the coffee table. You also reach your arm to grab the remote and turn the TV off, suddenly noticing it was loud as shit – what on earth has your looney friend come up with this time? You are scared.

Miyeon turns to you and grabs your hands. “So, you remember that time I travelled with you to Hong Kong? I had to pose as your marketing director because you’d fired her, but Mrs O couldn’t find out…” You arch an eyebrow at her, although you’re pretty sure you know what she’s going to ask you. “I need you to pose as me!”

You’re so puzzled at her proposition that you can only stare at her in silence, eyes wide open. You feel weird all over, like time has stopped.

“What?”

“It’ll be just two months!” she keeps on squeaking, grabbing the fabric of your blouse like a huffing child. “I’ll do anything, please! I’ll let you give out my phone number to creepy guys! Please, please, please—!”

“No way,” you state. “I have a job, a responsibility! I can’t just… ‘disappear’ for two months!”

But Miyeon keeps sobbing. “You’re my last chance, Y/N, please!”

“It can’t be,” you let out, gently pushing her away so that she can look at you. “I’ll look for any other way to help you” – even if the whole deal looks pretty ugly for her – “I promise, but I can’t just go around Kim International pretending to be someone else. What if someone recognises me? What if Mr Jeon finds out? It’ll only make things worse.”

“Worse than this?” she scoffs. “That’s pretty much impossible.”

“You know your father, he’s Machiavellian.”

Miyeon stares at your half-hearted grin and sighs, looking away. She’s too drunk to even cry and beg for your help. Her heart is a rock of ice.

“I see…”

“Look, it’s not that I don’t want to help you; it just is fucking crazy,” you insist.

“Yeah, I totally understand,” she murmurs, still not meeting your eyes. “The last thing I want is to put you in a difficult situation. Ah, it was really crazy,” Miyeon says then with a weak chuckle. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be… I’ll go get you a glass of water.”

“Thanks.”

You get up and head to the kitchen; your housekeeper left everything incredibly tidy before she left for the day, but you still struggle to find the glasses and end up pouring some warm water in a wine glass, too tired to even try it a second time.

“You’ll see how everything looks better in the morning—”

At the sound of Miyeon’s voice, you stop before walking into the large living room; she’s not talking to you, or she wouldn’t sound so formal. She’s also answering questions you can’t hear so, peeking out from the door, you find out she’s on her phone, talking meekly to someone and holding back a rebellious tear.

“I can’t make it,” she murmurs. “I’m sorry, madam, I really am… And I’m thankful for the chance you were willing to— I-I know, I just—”

Stepping back, you cross your arms and lean back against the wall, listening to her pitiful apology. You take a sip from the glass and sigh, eyes glued to your weak reflection on the water.

Miyeon noisily hangs up and buries her face between her hands.

“I was thinking,” you say in a calm tone as you walk in, pretending to have heard nothing – “here’s your water— I was thinking that… uh, okay, I’ll do it. If it’s that important for you, then I think it’s worth a try.”

After blinking a few times, totally shocked, she lets out a shriek of happiness, more similar to a seal’s than a human, and pounces you for a tight, tight hug that practically knocks the air out of your lungs. Miyeon rubs her cheek against yours in gratitude, thanking you with tears in her eyes and a runny nose while her arms keep you plastered against her heated body. You try to fight it off, but she’s too strong – she’s always been. So, you accept your fate and let Miyeon hug you.

There’s no going back now. Let the mission: undercover begin.

Ugh.

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