#and yeah it probably needs tidying up because I wrote this thing almost two years ago

[snizx]

I’m ill and I have to wake up for work in four hours or whatever but NONE OF THAT MATTERS!! I FOUND MY TIME LOOP STORY THAT I THOUGHT I HAD LOST! I HAVE WON!

#my last two uni assignments were absolute bangers and I made sure to keep the scifi essay safe because I was incredibly proud of that #even before submitting it #but I thought I had the time loop story saved #and I double checked I had everything when I knew I was losing access to my uni account #but idk it just kinda disappeared #and I’ve checked my laptop time and time again #but it wasn’t there and when I fried my old one with a glass of squash and had to replace it the chance of me still having it dropped lower #but for some godforsaken reason #ill beyond sanity and awake at two thirty in the morning #I decided to check my phone files #and I thought it would be just as futile as the check I did on my laptop yesterday #because the files should sync up #but it’s here!! #and I’m so relieved #and yeah it probably needs tidying up because I wrote this thing almost two years ago #but idk maybe I’ll be able to give this a good edit and pull through on my New Year’s resolution to submit something to a writing contest #tdlr: YIPPEE!!!!!

[queenxxxsupreme]

A/N: This was an ask from I believe @creatingstuffinpeace but I accidentally deleted the ask right as I was about to post it. I am going to probably make this into a little series with at least one more part because I have an idea, it's just a matter of when I have time to write it out :)

***

Thunder rumbled outside.

You moved around the bookshop, tidying things up.

“But momma! What about Gunnar?” Your son, Cas, tugged at your skirt.

“He’s probably just outback chasing a cat, love.” You brushed your fingers over his hair momentarily before picking up a small stack of books. “Will you help me with putting these back, Cas?”

He took two of the books from you and began to follow you to the other side of the little store.

“But momma! It’s about to storm! Gunnar doesn’t like storms!”

“Cas–,”

“What if he’s hurt? What if someone’s taken him or something’s happened to him? What if he’s lost!” The more the six-year-old thought about all the things that could have happened to his pup, the more frantic he became.

“Casimir.” You placed the books down on a table and knelt down to his level. You took the books from him and put them aside.

Tears welled in his eyes as he gazed at you. His bottom lip quivered.

You cupped his face and brushed your thumb over his cheek.

“I don’t want to take you out in the storm. But if you promise me to stay upstairs until I return, I will go look for Gunnar.”

“You will?”

You nodded.

“Okay.” He sniffled.

You wiped the tears away and leaned in to kiss his forehead.

“Let’s get these books put away. Then I’ll take you upstairs.”

As you stood up, Cas grabbed four of the books and tried to hurry towards the bookshelf they belonged on.

The front door creaked open and the bell above the door chimed, signaling someone was entering.

You glanced to your son once more before turning to greet the customer.

It was a tall figure with broad shoulders and a hood over his head. Something underneath his cloak moved and out poked Gunnar’s head.

“Gunnar!” Cas squealed in delight, running towards you.

The man put Gunnar down and the pup ran to meet Cas.

“I was just about to go searching for him.” You smiled at the stranger, taking little note of his vibrant golden eyes with catlike pupils.

“I found him clear on the other side of town.” His voice was deep but quiet. He gave a tight smile before turning to leave.

“Have you got a hunt to tend to at the moment, Master Witcher?” You asked, messing nervously with your hands. You hoped you weren’t crossing any boundaries by asking this.

“Not with the storm outside.”

“Would you want to stay for dinner? As a thank you for bringing my son’s dog back?”

The man hesitated to answer.

“I don’t want to impose.”

“It wouldn’t be imposing if I invited you.” You smiled just a little. “The rain seems to be coming down awfully heavy out there. And we’d like the company, wouldn’t we, Cas?”

Cas held Gunnar in his lap but was watching the witcher curiously.

“Yeah.” He answered quietly, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

“Your manners, son.” You lightly chided. The witcher turned back to you.

“Yes.” Your son repeated, this time lifting his head a bit.

“You don’t have to do this, m’lady.” The witcher insisted, his voice quiet and a bit on edge.

You could see with the way the poor lighting caught his face that there was something…. unnatural about his features.

“If you feel uncomfortable with the matter, my apologies.” You murmured softly, smiling. “I just wanted to thank you for your kindness. Not many people would bring the dog back, especially not in such weather.”

The man said nothing.

“Please stay, s-sir.” Cas spoke from behind you, his voice timid. “You brought-brought Gunnar back h-home. Let-Let us thank you.”

The witcher looked past you to your son briefly, before nodding his head.

“I am Y/N. This is my son Casimir.”

“Eskel.”

***

You took Eskel upstairs to your home located above the bookstore.

As you prepared dinner, you made conversation with the witcher. He was very polite and well-spoken, though he remained silent unless you asked him a question.

Your son sat by the hearth, watching Gunnar as he ate his dinner. You happened to be looking at your son when he looked into the kitchen. His eyes were focused on Eskel.

The witcher’s eyes flickered over to Cas, shifting ever so slightly in his seat. Was your son making him uncomfortable?

You moved around the table to place a mug of tea in front of the witcher. Golden eyes found you once more, taking in your every move. He turned his head just slightly away from you as if he was trying to keep his right side from you. But you had already seen the scars, the mangled lines that pulled at his face.

“You’ll have to forgive Casimir.” You lowered your voice so that only Eskel could hear you. “He’s young and just a curious boy. He means no harm, I promise you.”

Eskel’s brows furrowed together just slightly. Had he given you the illusion that something was wrong?

“Cas?” You looked up, smiling as your eyes landed on your boy. He perked up and raised his head. “Is everything alright, love?”

“Yes…. Can I get the book about daddy?”

“Of course, love.”

Cas shot up to his feet and ran to his room. Without finishing all of his food, Gunnar followed the boy.

“Your boy did nothing wrong.” Eskel spoke as you moved away from him. His eyes followed you. “There’s no need for any apologies.”

“But I know how cruel children can be, Master Eskel.” You focused on the pot of soup over the fire, stirring the contents steadily. “They are mean and cold because they are raised to be that way by their parents. They see it in the ones they look up to. They see fathers calling women in the streets filthy slurs and mothers degrading anyone who looks different from them or from their idea of what is normal and what is right….”

You trailed off, only realizing with the silence that followed that you had started to ramble.

You turned your head to Eskel, completely embarrassed that you had let yourself start down that path.

“I’m so sorry, Master Eskel. I didn’t mean to lecture you on my views of society.”

“Don’t apologize.” He shook his head, holding a hand up just slightly. A little smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “What you said is true. Children learn from their parents.”

You nodded, turning to check the bread in the oven.

“Momma, here!” Cas ran into the kitchen. He held a thin book high above his head. Gunnar was on his heels, happily wagging his tail.

“Set the book down on the table, Cas.”

Cas chose to stand at the table directly to Eskel’s right. He placed the book down on the wood and opened it up.

“Tell Master Eskel what the book is about, Casimir.” You took the bread out of the stone oven and placed it on the counter top.

Cas turned his head to look at Eskel but only for a split second. He didn’t want to stare for too long. Staring was rude and Casimir was better than that.

“It’s about the tales of a witcher!”

Eskel read some of the words over Cas’s shoulder, but the six year old seemed to just want to flip through the book.

“Momma?”

“Yes, my love?”

“May I ask Master Eskel a question?”

“He’s right beside you, Casimir. Go right ahead.” You paused what you were doing, placing one hand on your hip as you watched your son.

“Master Eskel?” Cas closed his book and rubbed his fingers over the wording on the front cover.

“Yes?” Eskel looked down at him.

“How many witchers do you know?”

“I suppose a handful. There aren’t too many of us left.”

Cas nodded his head. A furrow formed between his brows. You could tell he was deep in thought.

“Casimir? What else would you like to ask Master Eskel?” You moved towards the table, kneeling down so that you were at your son’s level.

“Do you think he knows the one who knew daddy? The one who gave me this?” Cas tapped on the book.

“Oh, love.” You gave him a sad little smile, brushing your fingers over his hair. “The one who gave you that wasn’t a witcher. It was a man who travels with a witcher. A Witcher’s barker or bard. I don’t think Master Eskel knows him. That happened so far away.”

Cas nodded understandingly.

“May I ask who it was?” Eskel asked almost hesitantly.

Your eyes met his. You weren’t sure if you wanted to keep talking about the matter knowing that it would upset Cas, but Eskel was just curious.

“It happened when we lived in Cintra years ago. The witcher’s name was Geralt.” You explained.

“And we had to move far, far away from home.” Cas nodded his head, taking a deep breath. His voice was sad and made your heart break. “Now we live here.”

“This is home.” You leaned forward to kiss his head.

“I’m going to put my book back.”

You watched him leave the kitchen.

“I do know that witcher.” Eskel spoke. He didn’t want to say anything loud enough for Casimir to hear him. He wasn’t sure if you wanted your son to hear what he was saying. “He’s my brother.”

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out at first. You weren’t sure what to say. You were surprised. What was the chance that this witcher sitting here at the table knew your dear friend Geralt?

You pulled out the chair directly across from him and sat down. Your eyes fell to the wedding band on your left hand.

“Geralt was great friends with my husband. Geralt saved him on more than one occasion.” A fond smile came to your lips at the memories. “My husband, rest his soul, could never stay out of trouble in his youth.”

“I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Your eyes flickered up to Eskel, offering him a smile.

“Do you know Geralt’s bard, Jaskier? He wrote stories of Geralt and my husband’s journeys together for our son and had a book created so that Cas would have a book to always remember him by. He clings to it.”

“That was very thoughtful of Jaskier.”

“It was. Brought me to tears for nearly a month afterwards.”

Eskel watched as you tapped your fingers absentmindedly against the table. Your eyes were stuck on the hallway but you weren’t watching the hallway. Your mind was elsewhere. You were absent. He knew that look. The look of someone who had lost someone, a part of them.

Silently, the witcher wondered how long ago your husband had passed. Time never made things better, but it did help to numb the ache of a loss. He had plenty of experience with time and with loss.

“How long has it been since you’ve seen Geralt?”

You blinked and straightened your posture, no longer lost in your mind. The sound of Cas coming back to the kitchen made you remember what was happening, where you were, and what you were supposed to be doing.

You stood to your feet and began to finish the last bits of dinner.

“Um, oh…. I’m not sure…. He, um, I think he came to visit just after….” You trailed off, looking at your son then at Eskel. “Just after it happened.”

Eskel nodded understandingly.

Casimir returned to his seat directly next to Eskel.

“Alright, gentleman. Thank you for your patience tonight.” You placed two bowls down in front of them then turned to get yours.

“Thank you for joining us, Master Eskel.” Cas picked up his spoon and began to eat.

“Thank you for having me.” Eskel smiled, golden eyes flickering over to you.

You met his gaze. Your eyes lingered on him for a few heartbeats before finding your soup.

Taglist: @pressedinthepages @mishafaye @whitewolfandthefox @wolfyland07 @belalugosisdead @persephonehemingway @keira-hulmaster @dinonuggs69 @greatestauthorofmygeneration @shadow-hunters-lover @dancingwith-thesunflowers @tedi-fach-las @thecomfortofoldstorries @natkowaa @weathervanes-my-oneandlonely @onlyhenrys @wackylurker @criminaly-supernatural @magpie343 @permanently-exhausted-witcher @genderfluid-ho @the-space-between-heartbeats @havenoffandoms @carriebee1 @ger-bearofrivia @naominami @writingawaymylife @reaganjenelle @theawkwardpedestrian @scarlettwitcher @badassspaceprincess @just-a-sad-donut @summersong69 @an--actual--human--disaster @rubyqueen819 @omgkatinka @vonxcon @mazakeen @bravelittlesunflower @thereagles @Awkward-Turtles-World @menalliha @cotton_mo @maan24 @thefirelordm @monkeymo @krenee1drful @nympha-door-a @unadulteratedtreecrusade @Aquarius-pisces-rose @mentallyscreamingsincebirth @fl0ating @sometimesiwrite @you-fxcking-wish-bish @thanks-bruh-for-nothing @maan2442 @thegaydeath @creatingstuffinpeace @wellthisstinks @andyrazzledazzle @ameliasmistake @winterwolf @caraqas @bluscryn @thefirelordm @y-napotat @henrycavillbesty @ta-ka-shi-ma @sulkyshengshou @spaced-out-state @thecollection @mayday1284 @babietrain @wandering-poetess @redneckstrash

If your name is in italics, it wouldn't let me tag you :(

#eskel x reader #eskel the witcher #the witcher #eksel #the wild hunt #eskel ask

[mystery-star]

Waiting for you - Spock

Pairing: Spock x reader (gender neutral)

Warnings: mentions of injury and death

Words: 1838

Star Trek universe: AOS

A/N: Just a lil thing I wrote because I haven’t written (at least for Spocko) in ages. And didn’t feel like writing on a series.

-

“She’s here. She’s here” you heard someone shouting beside you and looked around and finally you could see the Enterprise approaching in one of many tunnels above you. You smiled and stepped forward a little and waited for the crew to dismount. When you saw the first of them, your smile got broader and you got onto your tiptoes to look out for your husband. Not many people of the Enterprise had someone waiting for them and those who did seemed overjoyed. It made you look down for moment because you had a feeling that Spock wouldn’t greet you like others greeted their loved ones. Finally, you could see him and slightly raised your hand, hoping he’d see you. When he did, he came straight towards you, stopping half a meter in front of you

“(Y/N)” he said “What brings you to Yorktown?”

“I’ll give you three guesses” you replied and just threw yourself around his neck “I’ve missed you, Spock” you breathed against his skin and he hugged you back slightly.

“Am I therefore right to conclude that you came here in order to see me during my shore leave?”

“Right” you let go of him but only that you could kiss him. He cupped your face and kissed you back. At some point his hand found yours, slowly stroking his first two fingers against yours. But then he pulled away from you all of a sudden, just holding your hand. You turned around and saw two older Vulcans behind you.

“Commander, might we have a word? Alone?” you wanted to ask why you couldn’t come when Spock threw a glance at you and squeezed your hand

“Do you mind?”

“Just be quick” you pecked his cheek “I’ll be waiting for you, okay?” you handed him a keycard of the hotel where you had booked a room for you both. He gave a nod, then let go of your hand and followed the two men. With a sigh you looked after him and returned to the hotel, knowing he would be clever enough to find it when he was done.

But he only came when it was dark and you were already in bed, reading a magazine on your PADD.

“Have you been waiting with sleeping until I return?”

“Well, you got some days of shore leave, then I won’t see you for another two years. I want to use every minute with you that I can” he gave a nod and sat down on the bed, placing a device on the nightstand. “What did they want?”

“I will tell you in the morning”

“Alright” you put the PADD aside and stretched yourself a little before sitting up, crawling closer to him and wrapping your arms around him again, kissing him. “We now have better things to do, don’t you think?” he kissed you back and placed one of his hands in the small of your back, pulling you closer while he ran his other hand over the side of your face. After the kiss he leaned his forehead to yours and you bumped his nose with yours. “Did you have fun out there on the mission?”

“I have written and called you three times per week, as we have agreed on, and informed you about what you call ‘adventures’ and have also answered each question concerning them I was allowed to answer”

“Well yes but your last message was two days ago. I need a recap of the past two days. Or retell me your favorite mission. Doing it face-to-face is much better” you pecked his lips. He gave a nod, pulled you into his lap and started telling you how the Captain had attempted to make peace between two species that didn’t work out as planned. Then he went on to their arrival to Yorktown and suddenly his communicator beeped “Tell me that’s your private comm”

“It is not” he leaned forward to get it and you just wanted to stop him but let it happen with a sigh. Placing you back on the bed, he gave your hand a squeeze, took the comm, opened it and left the room. With a sigh you fell back on the bed, glancing to the PADD and considering if you should continue reading but then looked at the ceiling, repeating everything you had planned to do with Spock in the following days in your mind. Soon Spock returned and you sat up with a smile but his words ruined it “I must go”

“Go? Go where? Aren’t you on shore leave?”

“I am. However, there is a matter that requires my assistance”

“What is it?”

“I cannot tell you much but I must leave Yorktown”

“You’re shitting me”

“I do not joke”

“But… but… will you at least get that time off later on? How long will you be gone?”

“I suppose it should not take longer than 36 hours”

“Oh well…. Then you owe me yet another debriefing upon your return” he gave a nod, came closer to put his comm on his nightstand and pecking your forehead.

“Please make yourself a pleasant day tomorrow”

“Okay. And then I’ll be waiting here for you… again”

-

But Spock didn’t come home the evening or morning after he had left, so you decided to make yourself another nice day exploring another area of Yorktown. In the late afternoon, you suddenly heard how the station went on alert and after looking around you saw that a swarm of tiny ships tried attacking Yorktown. Around you everyone was in panic, screaming, rallying kids and running away while you stood there frozen, staring at the many little ships on the other side of Yorktown.

“We have to leave. Come. Now” someone next to you shouted, pulling on your arm

“Can we go somewhere safe? Like a… bunker?”

“A bunker on a Starbase?” the man started laughing slightly and shook his head.

“Or can we do something? Something to help? Is there a defense station or militia? Or help evacuate people?”

“That’s Starfleet’s business” as if on cue, there was an announcement, informing the public that there was an attack and that you should not panic. You let out a snort and watched how the people around you seemed to panic even more. You looked around and finally saw a security, officer, going over to him.

“Excuse me, Sir?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll all be safe, just stay calm and…”

“No, I wanted to ask if I can help something.”

“Help?”

“Yeah. Weapons, evacuate people or something” he looked at you, considered it a while then said he’d have to check it out. But before he could return, they managed to somehow blow up all the small ships. Somehow you couldn’t believe that this was everything and sure enough, there was another announcement informing the public that a great part of the ship had been destroyed but that three of them had gotten into Yorktown but that they still had the situation under control and would do everything to stop them. For some reason, you found that three ships hand entered Yorktown almost worse than the initial attack. Because you knew there probably wasn’t much you could do unless the ships came to that part of Yorktown, you sat down in a café, ordered a drink and watched the news on the big screen that gave a permanent update on the situation at the other end of Yorktown. Not even 15 minutes later, you heard that everyone was out of danger and the intruders had been rendered harmless. After a sigh, you finished your drink and then returned to the scene of the action, maybe there now was something you could help, like tidying up damage or helping the wounded. You stayed there and helped until it was dark and the volunteers were sent home, so you returned to the hotel. But you didn’t get far and the receptionist called you over.

“You are (Y/N) (Y/L/N), right?”

“That’s me, yeah”

“I have message for you, from a doctor Leonard McCoy”

“I know him. He’s the doctor on the Enterprise. What is this message about?”

“He lets you know, that your husband… Commander Spock will spend the night in Yorktown hospital”

“Ho-hospital? They’re back? What does he have? Is it bad? Can I visit him? When did they get back?”

“He only told me that so you know where your husband is and in case you wish to see him. I don’t know anything else” you nodded and with a thank-you you ran out of the hotel, to the hospital, where you had brought a few people earlier today. You went to a visitor station to register your visit and once you knew where your husband was and that he currently could be visited, you rushed to the elevator and then to his room. When you saw Spock lying in bed awake, you let out a deep breath and moved closer.

“Spock” you breathed, not sure what to say and having a hundred questions at the tip of your tongue. "How are you?” was the first you asked

“I am well, (Y/N). The doctors insisted I stayed the night to ensure that my condition does not become worse” you nodded and came closer, taking his hand, pressing a kiss to it as you sat down on the edge of the bed. To your delight, he squeezed your hand.

“What happened? To you, I mean?” he explained how on the mission his side was impaled by a piece of metal and that McCoy didn’t have the correct equipment to properly treat him. “At least you’re safe” you ran your free hand through his hair. “When did you even get back?”

“4.2 hours ago”

“That was… that was when the attack happened” he agreed and said it was them who played a great role in stopping them. “Oh so that big ship that destroyed the central plaza was you, the Franklin?”

“Indeed”

“And what about the Enterprise?”

“She has been destroyed”

“Oh no. What about the crew? Are they safe?”

“We have not yet been able to ascertain who has survived the attack on the Enterprise and who lost their life, however, I am certain that at least 350 people have survived”

“Out of 428 that’s still a lot that could have died”

“Besides, I also know of at least 16 casualties from the crew” you gave a nod

“And what now? I mean is your mission over? The Enterprise is gone”

“We do not know yet but it is certain that we will remain her for longer than the originally scheduled 12 days of shore leave”

“Well, then we got more time to do something as long as we’re here. And I get to see you longer. Ha that visit was worth it” you leant down to kiss his forehead. “Now we just gotta make sure you’ll be on your feet as soon as possible because I have lot planned for the next days”

-

Taglist: @softsapphicideals

#spock #spock x reader #spock x you #spock imagine #aos spock #imagine

[thestyleswritings]

Fix You

"We talked about something you said to me a while ago." She says, tone short. He couldn't tell if she was angry or if she was being shy about something.

 "Well? I'd love to hear what I said that you're still thinking about months later and talkin’ to your therapist about, baby." The hand that lay stationery on her thigh squeezed a bit, encouraging her to talk to him.

 "You said something about making a baby with me. Haven't been able to stop thinking about it." She muttered, biting her lower lip. His whole body went rigid beneath her at that.

Or - The one where you have depression and Harry leads you in the right direction, and then some

(6.1K)

Warnings: Mentions of Depression, Mention of Mental Health Issues, VERY brief mentions of suicide, Language, Possible Breeding Kink(??), Smut (at the end)

Masterlist

I wrote this in one night,,, shout out to mania.This isn’t even what I was working on. I don’t know if this is something that many people will want to read but it definitely brought a smile to my face to write. Do I need therapy? Probably. Will I ignore that and continue to escape my own mind through fiction? Absolutely. Reblog/Like if you enjoy!

  Harry knew she'd been struggling for a long time. It wasn't like her depressive periods lasted very long when they happened, maybe around a week or so, but when they hit, they hit her hard. He'd asked her when they first started dating, years ago, why she never invited him over and why she always went to his place, and at first she didn't want to tell him. It was embarrassing to her that she sometimes got into these periods where she didn't even want to lift her head from the pillow, let alone tidy up her flat.

  Harry eventually went over to her place once she felt comfortable enough to let him. She knew he wasn't going to judge her, and she knew all he wanted was to help her feel better. He stayed at her flat for hours the first time he came over, helping to fold the laundry she had done days before, dusting the bookshelf, clearing out the refrigerator. He'd joked they were a perfect match since he loved to clean up while listening to music they both loved; it relaxed his mind. His love language was acts of service anyway, which he constantly had to remind her of. He didn't mind doing anything and everything in his power in order to alleviate his lover's stress. She had sworn to Harry she'd try her best to keep the place in tiptop shape, but he didn't actually expect her to.

  He'd lost more than one friend to severe depression and he knew it was nothing to take lightly. Unfortunately, he also knew the signs to look for in suicidal people all too well. He could tell she had become moodier and spent a good bit of her day in bed either sleeping or just staring off into the void. She texted him that she was at home more and more, opting out of seeing her close friends for drinks or dinner. He hadn't seen her, either. It was all beginning to worry him deeply. He knew she'd have bad days, he'd signed up for that, but this was bigger than just a rough day. It had been going on for nearly two weeks and he knew he couldn't wait to address it any longer. He wanted to approach her tenderly. He was fearful that if he misspoke, she would shut down.

  That's how he ended up at her door one evening, unannounced. He brought along two sunflowers, one significantly taller than the other. He'd seen them at the florist's downstairs and they made him smile to himself. They were her favourite flower, and the posture of them reminded him of both of them. He hoped they would make her smile, too.

  He didn't bother ringing the bell, fishing out the spare key she had made up for him from his jeans pocket. When he stepped through the threshold, his heart sunk. There were empty cups on the coffee table, and he knew that meant she wasn't eating. If she were, there would've at least been a bowl or two. In that regard, her untidiness was helpful. He could assess the situation before even having to talk about it. 

  He sighed deeply as he gently places the sunflowers down on the kitchen island, walking over to clear the short table in front of the loveseat. He could practically feel the pain she was in and he hated.  He hated the fact that she had to be stuck with the short end of the stick. He walks the cups over to the sink, running the water over them for a moment before grabbing the sponge on the ledge of the sink to scrub them clean.

  As he washed the cups, he thought of what he could say to her that would actually prove to be helpful. It wasn't easy to always have the right words when the person hearing them didn't care if they lived or died. He knew if he told her outright how upset he was seeing her this way, it would only serve to make her feel worse that she couldn't help it. He didn't want to force or therapy on her, but he really wasn't left with many options. He wouldn't lose someone else to this. He couldn't live with himself, nor without her.

  He shuts off the tap and dries his hands on the cute yellow kitchen towel that was always draped on the cabinet next to the sink. With the flowers in hand, he cracks open her bedroom door. There are a few small piles of clothing around, t-shirts and sweatpants carelessly discarded based on the look of how everything was inside out.

  The sight of her breaks his heart. She was curled up tight beneath her fuzzy blanket that he knew she only pulled out when she was missing him and his snuggles, facing the wall while her arm hung limply over the stuffed dragon he'd gotten her ages ago. He could tell she hadn't gotten up all day, that much was evident. All the lights in the apartment had been off when he'd arrived and there was a stillness to the air. She hadn't even answered his messages sent hours earlier. He thought the worst for a moment, frozen in place with wide eyes trained on her unmoving body before hearing a soft snore coming from her, easing his breathing exponentially.

  He sits on the edge of her bed, placing the flowers with a shaky hand in a cup of water that had been sitting on her bedside table. He brings his hand up to the dip of her waist, gently rubbing up and down the length of her torso to soothe her awake.

   "Wake up, bug. S'me. Brought ya a little present." He coos at her once he heard her intake a large breath, reaching up to tuck her thick hair behind her ear. He could tell she hadn't washed it in a few days and made a mental note to encourage her to shower with him. She stirred under his touch, like she could tell it was him even when she was deep in slumber.

  "Harry?" She calls out quietly into the dark, feeling the warmth of his palm against her cheek. Had she been more awake and alert, she might've even been sheepish at her disheveled appearance. She already knew he saw all the empty cups on her table that had once been full of tea and coffee. She felt ashamed.

  "Yeah baby, it's me. Can you turn around and let me see that pretty face?" He croons, removing the hand that had been stroking her hair.

  She sighs deeply before turning over in her full sized bed, eyes focusing on the plush faux-down blanket beneath her. His hand slowly approaches her face again, this time grabbing hold of her chin softly to have her look at him. He smiles sadly at her. She knew that look. It's the same way her mother would look at her when she came into her room as a teenager. Pity, almost. It made her feel weak. 

  "Hello, my angel. Have you been in bed all day, lovie?" He dotes on her, running his thumb across her cheekbone. He knew the answer, he just wanted her to acknowledge it.

  "Mhm. What time is it?" Her voice is hoarse, as if she'd been crying the night before. The sound of it deflated Harry's heart in his chest.

  "S' a quarter til six, lovie. What time did you fall asleep?" He asks, leaving his hand on her face to cradle her soft cheek.

  "Dunno. Seven, eight? This morning sometime." She replies, sighing at her own erroneous sleeping schedule. Harry presses his lips together silently, taking in her words.

  "Alright. Well, I'm here now, so up you get." He requests softly. Softly enough where she doesn't find it demanding. He stands from her bed, holding a hand out to her.

  "Did I hear you say you brought me something?" She asks as she sits up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. He chuckles at her, knowing that a huge part of her mental illness caused her to crave buying material possessions, only for them to mean nothing to her the very next day. It was something she was truly trying to work on.

  "Yes baby, I did. S' on the bedside table." He informs her, waiting for her to turn and see them before he walks closer to her. She caresses the vibrant petals of the yellow flower, biting her lower lip between her teeth.

  "I... I love them, Harry. Thank you." He can hear the tightness in her throat and he worries that he should've just not gotten them at all for a moment before he sees the genuine smile across her lips.

  "I saw them and thought of you. Well, us, really. Don't they look like us?" He beams at her, and she sort of thinks she can see what he means. He looks like a sunflower when he smiles. He brings light and beauty into her life. Maybe that's why she found herself wanting to cry. Because she felt like she wasn't worthy of the human sunflower standing in her room.

  "Yeah. They do look like us." She offers a smile, smaller this time now that she's thought about it. She wraps her arms around his middle, allowing the overwhelming feeling of warmth and comfort to consume her for a moment before pulling away.

  "I should probably go clean off the coffee table, huh?" She says humorlessly, walking the way of the door before his voice stops her.

  "I did it for you, baby. Why don't you come with me to have a nice warm shower? I want to talk to you about some things while we're in there anyway."  Panic strikes her still; what did he want to talk about? Was he finally fed up? Did he find someone else, someone who could take care of themselves properly? Was that why he was being especially sweet on her? She felt like she could throw up. She didn't know how to do this without him anymore, and that alone scared her. It wasn't to say she didn't adore him for all that he does for her, she just wished he didn't feel like he had to. She wished she could get her mind well enough to care to do even the simplest tasks.

  She nods her head and thanks him quietly for straightening up before walking into her bathroom and stripping down to nothing. She reaches into the shower to turn on the water and waits for it to get warm, as well as Harry. She didn't like the sound of wanting to talk, even if he hadn't necessarily said it in a menacing way. When he joins her, he follows her lead by taking everything he wore off. He didn't want to look at her body for too long and become distracted like he often did when he saw her, especially when he really saw her. She had soft features and her body was always so pliant in his hands. Though, he couldn't allow his mind to wander right now.

  He gets in first, testing the water and making sure it was around the temperature they both liked before reaching for her hand and pulling her in gently. She expected him to keep some distance, so when he wrapped his arms around her from behind as they stood under the steady stream of water, she was a bit taken back. Was he being overly affectionate as a way to say goodbye? He places a few kisses to her shoulder before peeling himself away and grabbing her peach shampoo off the built-in shelf. She leans her head back to make sure her hair is all wet before allowing him to lather her hair with the sweet smelling soap for her. She always loved how he massaged her scalp with it.

  "So, I know you might think I wanted to talk about something bad, but I promise it's nothing bad. I just want you to know that before you start making scenarios up in your mind." He speaks softly, matching the pressure of his fingertips in her hair. He sees her shoulders sag and he feels awful. She'd already started thinking of potential issues he may have wanted to talk about. He carries on by rinsing the shampoo out and repeating, creating a much foamier lather the second time around. He rinses it out for her by guiding her beneath the waterfall, following up with the peach conditioner.

  "What do you want to talk about?" She whispers, enjoying the feeling of Harry's hands moving lower with her wash rag, scrubbing her limbs delicately as to not harm her skin.

  "Well... you. You know how much I love you, yeah? Can't fuckin' live without you, you know? Hurts me when we're apart for too long, or when we have to sleep alone. I, um... I just want you to be happy," he sighs. He prattled on a bit; his thoughts were jumbled and he didn't know how else to tell her this.

 "I want to be able to know you're okay when I'm not with you, even if I want to be with you always. I know you're going through a rough spot right now, and I want you to have help. More help than just me," he's as gentle as he can be, and she appreciates it. It doesn't mean she wants to cry any less, of course, but she knows he has the purest intentions.  

  He wants her to thrive, not just survive. He knew he could only do so much for her before she had to start doing things for herself. He loved to baby her and take care of her, but not when he had to. He wanted to help her shower sometimes and feed her because he wanted to, not because she wouldn't do it herself if he didn't.

 "Are you saying you want me to find a therapist?" She asks softly. She's not opposed to the idea, she just never found the strength to actually care enough about her own mental well-being to make an appointment. 

  "Are you okay with that? Would you be open to it if I helped you find someone to talk to? And maybe try medication? I know it's a lot at first, but it helps so many people. Just can't keep seeing you so sad. Hurts my soul, since we share the same one." He turns her around now to look at her property while they spoke. He could see the furrow in her brow, like someone was pinching them together with their fingers. 

 He saw the tears welling up in her eyes and his heart nearly explodes at the pout forming on her face. This isn't what he wanted to happen. He didn't want to make her cry. Her chin trembles as she tries her hardest to look anywhere but at his face.

  "Oh, baby," he coos, wrapping her up in his arms once more, "I didn't mean to upset you. I'm so sorry, m'love," he kisses the top of her head, peppering them all around wherever he could reach. "M' just worried, baby. When I came in earlier it looked like you- I just, I can't imagine what I would do if-" he's slightly panicked now, she can feel his heart picking up it's pace. She didn't know that was something he worried about with her and it made her whole body ache.

  "You didn't. It wasn't that. I would really appreciate if you could help me find someone to help me further. I'm crying because I'm hurting you when I don't deserve you in the first place," she sniffles, pressing her face further into the slippery skin of his neck. "You deserve someone who's whole, someone who you don’t have to worry about."

  "Hey," he pulls back from her, holding both her shoulders so he can look her in the eyes, "I love you. So much that I'd die without you at this point. Just told you that. Please don't put thoughts and words into my mouth. I mean everything I say to you, don't let your brain fool you into thinking it's not true. When I tell you I love you, please know I mean that with everything I have and everything I am. I'm not whole without you. I worry because I love you so much that it would kill me to lose you," His voice is soft yet firm all at once, conviction filling his tone.

  "Promise?" She asks weakly, knowing what he's telling her is the truth. Her brain tended to sabotage her.

  "I promise." He kisses her lips, backing her underneath the water once more to rinse her off before reaching behind her to shut off the water. He steps out before her, grabbing her towel and wrapping it around her short body.

 "I'm going to make something for us to eat, angel. Come sit with me at the counter so I don't get lonely?" He asks once they're both dressed. He wore her sweatpants and t-shirt while she wore his Christmas themed pyjama pants with his Spice World hoodie.

 "You want me to?" She can't help but wonder why he wants her to be around him so much. She knew he loved her and they'd been dating for almost four years, but she found herself to be a buzzkill. She just exuded sadness, she thought. Harry scoffs at her playfully, rolling his eyes. He knew she couldn't help but doubt herself, but he still found it absurd. Of course he'd want to be around her all of the time. She was so accepting and loving, even if she didn't think so. She was good.

"Obviously, angel. Always want you within two feet of me. As a matter of fact, I wish you were pocket-sized so I could bring you everywhere with me until you got sick of seeing my big dumb head." He smirks at her, making her genuinely laugh. She hadn't done that in a while.

 "You're such a dramatic nutter." She laughs, pushing him away from her so she could walk into the kitchen to find a stool to occupy.

 "Me!? Were you not the one that cried because you couldn't stop thinking about The Hunger Games?" He comes in behind her, smacking her ass playfully in retaliation of her push before quickly walking at least an arms distance away from her.

"That's literally not fair? Finnick deserved so much better than that. You cried when we watched it together too, fucker!" She explains even more dramatically than he had been in the first place, as if he hadn't been there too. He chuckles as he opens her refrigerator, kissing his teeth when he finds nothing defrosted to cook. All she really had was oat milk, a bottle of homemade cold brew and a few cups of yoghurt.

"Fair enough. I'm going to take this chicken down so we can make it tomorrow, but since there's nothing else, do you wanna do Japanese?" Kicking the door closed as he walks closer to her with two water bottles in hand.

"You know I can never say no to Japanese. I'll order it," she offers, but he's already shaking his head with his phone in hand.

"It's on me. We're eating food you bought tomorrow, s'only fair. I wanna know what else you could never say no to? Like maybe... moving in with me?" He says without looking up as he places the order, already having her favourite meal saved on his phone, along with his own.

 At first, she doesn't react. She doesn't move a single muscle, not even her eyes. He doesn't take her stunned silence personally, waiting for her to process what he'd just offered. He can practically see the cogs turning when he looked at her.

"You want me... to live with you... in your big beautiful mansion of a house..." She says slowly, turning her gaze to his own. He exhales a laugh at the flabbergasted expression on her face.

"Yes, baby. Told you I'd bring you everywhere with me, and we've been together almost 4 years, known each other 6. I don't know about you but I'm ready to wake up to your face every day." He smirks once more, reaching out to tucker her hair behind her ear like he always did. He just wanted to see more of her pretty face.

"You- I... Harry. You know what? Yeah. I will." She had began to refuse before catching herself. This was a normal next step in a long term relationship. She wouldn't sabotage this. She was a better version of herself when she was with him, and they made each other happy. 

"Yeah? You will? I'm so happy baby, thank you. I'm tired of waking up alone and missing you every day. It's dumb." He tackles her in a hug, attacking her with a million kisses. He doesn't bother holding back the few happy tears he sheds, he doesn't care and he knows she doesn't either.

—

  He had proposed to her the day she moved in, after she unpacked her last bedroom item and found a place for it. It was the silly green dragon, who now lived between two puffy pillows on their shared bed. He'd had the ring burning a hole in his dresser for over a year and he couldn't stand it anymore once he saw how at home she'd made herself. That, and he wanted to make love to her while she wore the sparkling diamond.

Something about the visual prompted him to drop to his knee behind her instantly.

  It had been a year since she moved into Harry's “big beautiful mansion of a house”, and they were happier than ever. She was seeing a therapist that she enjoyed, someone whom she felt comfortable with. She had also begun taking medication. The first few prescriptions weren't right, but Harry encouraged her to keep trying different things and held her hand along the way. She finally found the one that matched her chemistry, and it worked a treat. She could focus on things better, and she had the energy to do so many things that she would even go on the occasional run with Harry. It was amazing for him to see her in such high spirits. It was like the her that only he could see was finally free, brightening up the world around her. More importantly, she could finally see herself that way, too.

A few months after she said yes, he had said something to her that she couldn't shake.

"Wanna make babies with you."

  He'd said it to her in passing, staring at her with hearts in his eyes as she sat on the grass in the garden. The sun was hitting her skin so beautifully and she just looked so radiant. He couldn't help it. It had just slipped out.

  She brushed it off at the time, but now it was all she could think about. She had even told her therapist about it. While the older woman seemed excited for her, she still asked if that was something she'd want. If she'd even thought about it.

  And truthfully, she had thought about it before. A lot. She's thought about Harry rubbing her tummy, kissing it and singing. She's thought about them falling asleep together when the baby is finally born. She's thought about how much of a daddy's girl they'd have, if it turned out to be a girl. She's thought about how if he babies her this much, she would love to see how much he'd baby their real baby. She's thought about how much she and Harry would love their shared creation. She’s thought about how much more love it could bring into their lives.

  She'd arrived home from a session one day after work to find Harry peacefully reading on the couch in the soft yellow light of their living room. She took a moment to admire him from this perspective before making her presence known. Jingling her keys a bit harder than usual, making his head turn in time to watch as she hangs them up before shedding her coat and walking over to the back of the couch.

 "Hello, my love." She coos, rubbing her flat palms against his chest. She kisses the side of his face a few times and he grabs hold of her hands, clutching her closer and enjoying her warmth.

 "Hi, lover. How was today? Work was alright?" He lets her hands go with a kiss so he can dog-ear's his page before shutting his book, giving her his undivided attention. She rounds the couch and decides to sit on his lap, looping her arms around his neck. His hands automatically shift to hold her waist.

"Work was the same. People are obnoxious and rude. What can I do? Session went well too. Talked about something I've been thinking about a lot." She looks down at him, tracing her finger subconsciously against the silver chain he never took off. She can't help but smile at how pretty her lover is, making him reflect the same expression.

 "Want me to go down there and give them a talking to? You know I'd do it." He glares playfully, furrowing his brows and puffing his chest. She laughs softly at his silly demeanour. It's one of the things she loves the most about him.

 "Shut up. Annoying," She laughs, hiding her face in his neck. He laughs with her, dropping a hand to one of her thighs to smack it lightly for her comment, ultimately choosing to leaving it resting there.

"That's you. Anyway, what did you talk about? Is there something bothering you?" He asks, ignoring the way her brow raises at him for calling her the annoying one. They had such a lighthearted relationship. It filled them both with joy.

 "We talked about something you said to me a while ago." She says, tone short. He couldn't tell if she was angry or if she was being shy about something.

 "Well? I'd love to hear what I said that you're still thinking about months later and talkin’ to your therapist about, baby." The hand that lay stationery on her thigh squeezed a bit, encouraging her to talk to him.

 "You said something about making a baby with me. Haven't been able to stop thinking about it." She muttered, biting her lower lip. His whole body went rigid beneath her at that.

 "You've been thinking about it this whole time and didn't say anything?" He questions softly, looking up at her with loving eyes. She nods her head, looking off to the side to gather her thoughts.

"Yeah. I... I really want that, Harry. I already promised to love you forever when I said yes, and you make me so much better. I can't imagine how amazing you'll be as a father. I, um, I also stopped taking my birth control a few days ago." She spoke with confidence. She knew this was what she wanted, and she could tell he did too. There was something in the way she spoke about it that made him stand with her in his arms.

"Let me get this straight. You want me to put a baby in you?" He speaks boldly, almost matter of fact. He wasn't asking, he was confirming. She says nothing, choosing instead to nod furiously.

 He beams at her, bringing her all the way to their bedroom before sitting her delicately on the bed. She rolled her eyes at that; it's not like she was already pregnant. He catches the look and reaches to her shoulder to shove her on the bed with an eye roll of his own.

"Better?" He mocks, grinning from ear to ear at her shocked expression. He takes his shirt, that was actually her shirt, off along with his joggers before clambering on top of her.

"You're such a knobhead." She laughs, taking off her own shirt. She didn't feel like waiting.

"A knobhead that you want to come in you. A knobhead that you want to father your children!" He exclaims jokingly. She can't help the grin on her face, pulling his chin until their lips met. Her grin evaporates when she feels him practically rip her skirt off, alongside her flimsy thong. She gasps at the feeling of his fingers on her, rubbing over her slit ever so gently. Feeling how wet she was for him.

"Were you thinking about this on your way home? You're fucking drenched." His voice had lost all sense of humour, acquiring a certain gravel to it that only served to make her wetter. She only nods, kissing his lips in a pleading sort of way.

"You want my baby this bad, huh? Want me to make you a mummy? Want to make me a daddy? S' that it, angel?" She couldn't take it anymore. The sound of his voice was driving her insane and she had checked if she was ovulating this morning and found out she was. It was like her body was demanding for him.

  "Yes! Yes, lover. Please? Want it so bad," Harry felt his heart warm at the tone of her voice. He knew they called each other lover in bed when they were feeling too romantic, too lost to the moment. In a good way. She was truly desperate to try for a little person with him. Quickly, he rolls them over so she's sat atop him once more. He kisses her immediately, bringing his hand down to dip his fingers into her now sopping wet hole.

  She choked on a gasp as she felt him slide two in, curling them at the joint to apply pressure exactly where he knew she needed it. He took advantage of her head falling back, attacking her neck with tender love bites and kisses. His other hand roamed around her stomach and back for a bit before reaching for her chest, tweaking her nipple between two slender fingers. Her jaw dropped when she felt his thumb land on her clit, circling hard and fast.

  "God, Harry! Fuck," she could hardly breathe at the efforts her lover was putting in. "Yes! Yes," her praise was quiet, but it fuelled him regardless.

  He was always an attentive lover, but something about his actions were nearly feral. Like he couldn't get enough, no matter how much she gave him. He would always want more of her. More sound, more taste, more feeling. He wanted her to always evade and overwhelm his senses. He moans at her noises, along with the feeling of her clenching around his fingers.

  "C'mon, lover. Come so I can put our baby in ya," he breathes against her neck, licking any patches of skin he can reach. Her eyes roll back at his words, crying out for both him and God.

"Tha's it, lover. Good girl," he whispers huskily, slowing the movement of his fingers and moving the other hand to hold her body even more tightly against his. When he can feel her body shuddering, he pulls his fingers from her and sticks them in his mouth, sucking them clean in a filthy way.

  "Please put our baby in me," she requests in a small voice with a smile, tears streaking down her cheeks. She was so overwhelmed by him and by the prospect of what they were doing that she started crying happy tears. His smile is worth everything to her in that moment, pulling his face up for a kiss.

  "Yeah, lover. I'll do that," his voice is tender, like his touch. He kisses her as he lays her body beneath him again, stopping for a moment to take in her form. Her body was so gentle and relaxed after he'd made her feel good, and he couldn't help but kiss her tummy. Her cheeks were slightly flushed and her hair was starting to frizz, but she'd never looked better.

  This wasn't by any means the first time they'd had sex without a condom but it was, however, the first time they'd done it without her taking birth control.

The rational part of their minds knew it wouldn't physically feel any better, but they couldn't help the buzz around them at the thought.

   He kisses her neck lightly as he grasps himself, tugging a few times to make sure he was nice and hard for her. He knew he was already rock solid, but he wanted to be extra sure. This was important. When he pushes into her, his eyes roll to the back of his head. She grits her teeth at the feeling of being so full of her lover, digging her nails into his side.

  He pushes the rest of the way in, taking a pause there for a moment. He could tell he was pressed against her in a delicious way from the look on her face. His hips started to create a rhythm they could both enjoy; deep and hard, slow and passionate. They were making love, after all.

  "G'na be the best mum, fuck, I know it," he pants into her ear, leaning his body further into hers. She whines into his hair, lifting her hips off the bed to get closer to him, even if it wasn't possible.

  "You're- oh my god, fuck! You're gonna be the best dad, you already take, oh shit, take such good care of me. Such a good lover,” she can tell her voice sounds fucked out, but hell if she gave a fuck. He squeezes her hand in response, kissing her neck again. He felt himself get hotter at her words. The way their bodies collided could be heard in the thick air around them, filling their ears with beautiful music.

She could hear it in the way he moaned in her ear that he was so close. She was, too, just at the thought of him filling her up with possibly more than just nut. They could get a baby out of this. Her eyes roll back as she practically howled in pleasure.

“Please come, please I wanna feel it,” she begged as she lost her mind, repeating her chant.

“Oh my fuck, yeah, baby. Finish for me first, lover. Good fucking girl,” he praises her, kissing along her collarbones as he fucked her through her orgasm. He was so close he could practically taste it, but he had to say something first.

“I love you, angel. I’m gonna love you forever.” His words are broken up between moans in her ear, making her cry out with him. She was so sensitive that when he let go and shot into her, she came again.

  He could barely move once he was spent, dropping his weight to his elbows and laying on top of her chest, which was moving rapidly along with his own.

  He kisses the skin beneath him as she plays with his hair, both too dazed to say anything.

She’s the first to break their silence when she tells him she loves him too.

“‘M bloody glad you love me too, or else it would be pretty awkward for us to have a baby together.” He mutters sarcastically, not even having the energy to lift his head. It was like she sucked out his soul and he needed 2 to 5 business days to get back to being functional. She’d have to call Jeff and let him know the bad news.

“You’re a dork. But, I wouldn’t choose anyone else to do this with. You helped me through the worst days and showed me what I could be. I owe you everything.” She cards her fingers through his hair, speaking softly.

“I resent that, firstly. But I’m proud I get to be this person for you. You’re everything to me, so you don’t owe me a thing. I’m just happy that you’re getting help for yourself. It’s not an easy thing to do, and I’m proud of you. Extremely fucking proud.” He had turned his head to where his chin was poking at her tummy so he could look at her face.

“I’m happy I took your advice. Outsourcing help doesn’t make you weak, it makes you strong. It shows that you can pull yourself up and realise you have a problem, you know?” She tries to explain it, but he knows. He’d been telling her all along. He even went to therapy.

“Yeah, baby. I’m happy you’re here with me.” He says, and she knows he meant here, alive, not just here with him at that moment. She holds onto him a little bit tighter.

“I’ll always be here. I need you too much to go anywhere”

~

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[starlessskies94]

Consequence (Joel Miller x OC)

Summary: What if Joel survived his injuries from the Abby and Fireflies attack but ends up with really bad amnesia. He can’t remember his wife, Ellie, or the Outbreak; only before. How will his family bring back the man they once knew?

Pairing: Joel Miller x OC

Note: Okay this is a big one, I wrote this over the course of like 3 days I think? Anyway I hope you like it because it's probably the longest chapter I've ever written for one of my stories <3

Chapter One

It was just five in the morning when Adaline Miller woke up. Her head still a little groggy from a decent night’s sleep and her fading dreams. She turned to see Joel still asleep beside her; his gentle snores muffled into his pillow. She smiled and leaned over kissing his bare shoulder before rolling out of bed to get ready for her day.

Stepping downstairs towards the kitchen, Ada realised just how cold it was when she noticed how frosted over the windows had become overnight. Ada hated winter. It was her least favourite season. After everything that had happened almost five years ago it wasn’t hard to understand why. Even now she still sometimes had nightmares about it.

Waking up to find Joel cold in his bed; his stomach wound torn open. Blood everywhere. Or finding Ellie beaten and bruised, left alone in that burned out restaurant.

Joel had always been there to console her, holding her until she calmed down. His voice low to just a whisper as he told her everything was okay. She was safe. He was there and he wasn’t ever going to leave.

It was a comfort she appreciated even after being married to the man for just under four years.

Stepping through into the kitchen, the brunette quickly got to work preparing some eggs on the stove for breakfast before moving across the counter to make up a pot of coffee for herself and Joel. She still wasn’t totally sure what her husband had traded for the beans; but Joel had seemed rather embarrassed by it for some reason. Though after finally getting to taste coffee again after so long, she didn’t much care she supposed. After the hot water was boiled she poured the beverage out, setting aside Joel’s favourite owl mug for when he came down.

Joel had always been an early riser and more often than not, he was almost always the one that beat her to the kitchen in the morning. It had taken some time after settling in Jackson to actually get the man to finally relax a little. It was unfortunate for Ada that he had taken that to mean ‘no sleeping in past seven’. Even on days off, Joel was up before the sun. Lucky Ada had found her own ways to at least keep him in bed past seven on those days; sleeping or otherwise. Thankfully Joel never complained.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the creaking of the stairs as Ada glanced up to meet eyes with Joel. His arms stretched above his head and suppressing a yawn. He stepped through the door, his hand dropping to scratch at his bearded chin.

“Morning darlin’.” Joel slurred, heading straight for his coffee mug. “Hold on...why are you dressed already?” Ada questioned. Her egg covered spoon gesturing at him in his winter gear. Joel followed her gaze, his brows raised in confusion. “I thought you weren’t on patrol until this afternoon.” She clarified.

“Oh yeah...forgot to tell you last night. Change of plans. Tommy’s gotten word of a horde gathering near the ski lodge.” He explained between sips, leaning against the counter, crossing one foot over the over. “Reckon we needed to deal with it quickly before it gets to be a problem.”

Ada pouted but said nothing, her gaze turning from Joel back to her scrambled eggs on the stove. Joel sighed abandoning his mug on the side as he moved across towards her. His arms wrapping around her waist and resting his chin over her shoulder.

“I can hear you thinking.” He said lowly into her ear. But again Ada said nothing. He sighs moving to kiss her neck but she turns her head away as he does.

He hates this. He hates when she worries. It’s always the same routine when he heads out for clean up duty. Clearing out infected is never an easy job but it is what keeps Jackson safe. They both know that. But still whenever he’s due to leave for another job, Ada goes quiet. She’s distant and he fucking hates it.

It was the same when Ellie first asked to train for patrol, they’d been reluctant. And while they were both well aware of Ellie’s skills and her strength; it was still hard watching their baby girl in such a hurry to go out alone without them.

His arms around her waist squeeze gently as he pulls her close to his chest, his head over her shoulder stealing a kiss on her cheek.

“Baby please stop worrying, I’ll be fine.” He knew it was a foolish thing to promise because the world they lived in wasn’t safe. You never knew what the next day would bring. But if there was anything in this world Joel would find to fight for; it was coming home to his wife. His family.

Ada dumped the cooked eggs onto the plates laid out, they were a little burned on the edges. She hadn’t been paying that much attention to them if she was honest. Then turned in her husband’s arms to face him.

“Back by dinner or I kick your ass.” She warned playfully. “Deal.” He chuckled, pulling her close as their lips met in a kiss.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It didn’t take long for Ada to get to the stables when she’d finished breakfast. After reluctantly pulling herself from Joel’s arms; they’d both parted ways as the older man went to meet his brother at the gate.

She’d quickly threw herself into her list of jobs for the day, hoping it would take her mind off her worry.

“Morning Max.” She smiled at the stable hand, walking through to the back room. “Mornin’ Ada, whadda we got today?” he grinned in reply, his frame leaning through the door as she tidied her workspace. Collecting all her notes and paperwork together.

“Well Daisy has been lame for a couple days so she needs to stay on box rest. Then I need King and Blue tacked up before noon.” She explained, her eyes never leaving the sheets of paper in her hand. “Bob and Maggie are headed out on patrol so they need them ready before half twelve.”

“You got it boss!” Max assured with a joyful grin, sending her a mock salute. She chuckled at the old man as he disappeared from the doorway, but she quickly caught up to him, catching herself on the wooden frame.

“Oh! Could you also take Barnaby out into the paddock this morning please? He had a touch of colic yesterday and I want to keep his gut moving to make sure it’s passed.” She explained. Max simply nodded and turned to make a start on his duties. Ada always liked Max. He was an older gentleman, around seventy years old but still incredibly fit for his age. He’d arrived in Jackson a few years after herself, Ellie and Joel. Along with his grandsons from somewhere near Montana. Having the experience of running his own ranch before the Outbreak; he’d been the perfect fit to help Ada run the stables and take care of the horses.

She continued through until around nine o’ clock, just making the finishing touches to the poultice she’d wrapped around the gelding’s leg she was treating. “There ya go buddy.” She cooed sweetly, giving the horse a soft scratch behind the ears as he nickered in reply.

“Morning Ada!” A familiar voice greeted as the brunette moved to close the stable door closed behind her. “Morning Dina, you out on patrol this morning?”

“Yep, heading out on the creek trails with Ellie.” She smiled, Ada quickly returning it as they both looked to Ellie walking through the door. “How’s my boy?” Dina asked, grabbing Ada’s attention once again.

“Oh he’s fine, Japan had a little mud fever but I think we got it under control now. He’s good to go. All tacked up for you with Max down there.” Dina gave her a quick thumbs up and threw a thanks over her shoulder as she ran down towards the back of the barn. Leaving the woman alone with her adoptive daughter who slowly trailed behind.

“Good morning sunshine. How are you feeling this morning?” She teased. Ellie rolled her eyes at her mother’s smirk.

“Oh jeez don’t. I already got half the town giving me weird looks.” She whined. After the dance the night before, her kiss with Dina, Seth drunk and aggressively harassing the girls; it had certainly been the talk of the town the following morning. Ellie was just hoping she could outlive the embarrassment.

“So you and Dina patrolling together huh? That should be interesting. Have you talked to her yet?” “Ugh mom stop!” Ellie hissed softly, her lips twitching into a subtle smile.

“What? I like her, she’s a sweet girl. You two would be so cute together.” The teen stifled a giggle as she playfully shoved her mom’s shoulder, the older woman chuckling in return. “Shut up.”

The laughter faded when Ada sighed in thought, Ellie glancing back knowing what was coming next. Her gaze immediately falling to her feet.

“You uh...you talk to Joel yet?” She asked cautiously. For the past two years; it had been a sore subject for Ellie whenever Ada brought Joel up in conversations. After finding out the truth back in Salt Lake; she’d been so angry at both of them for everything they had kept from her. But after learning that Joel had been the one that pulled the trigger. That one that had made that decision for all of them and acted alone, she’d declared she wanted nothing more to do with him. And while it had been hard for Ada to be stuck in the middle; she’d still tried her damn hardest to build a bridge between them.

“A little...but one conversation isn’t going to fix everything.” She mumbled. Her foot kicking at the mud covered floor, eyes never leaving the ground.

“It’s a start though. Baby he really misses you.” she said. “I know. I still don’t know if I can forgive him for what he did though. But I am willing to try.” Ellie said softly, her hands now pulling at her jacket sleeves. “I uh...I was thinking of maybe inviting him over for a movie night tomorrow. If that’s okay?”

Ada smiled at this. It had been hard with Ellie not speaking to Joel for so long, watching the man she loved struggle with losing a daughter that no longer wanted anything to do with him. It was obvious he was hurting even if he never said the words out loud. He missed Ellie, he’d be so grateful to hear she wanted to do movie night again, for the first time in so long.

“Of course it is. When you get back from patrol we’ll figure something out okay? Joel’s out with Tommy but he should be back by dinner.”

Ellie simply nodded with a timid smile before turning towards Max waiting with Shimmer.

“Hang on, gotcha some lunch. I still worry you ain’t eating enough.” Ada shouted after her, reaching into her backpack to hand her daughter the pack of food she’d prepared.

“Thank you!” Dina called before Ellie had the chance to reply, swiping the pack out of Ada’s hand. “Hey! She said my lunch!” Ellie poked in jest. The teen simply scoffed peaking through the bag to see what was inside. “Our lunch...there’s plenty for both of us. Let’s see; turkey sandwiches, nice.” Dina continued snooping through the pack while Ellie merely rolled her eyes as Ada stood with folded arms smirking at the two. They really were cute together.

“Oh shit! No way, Ellie there’s cookies in here! Awesome! Thanks Ada!”

Ada laughed at Dina’s joy as Ellie reluctantly followed behind, snatching the packed lunch back and stuffing it into her bag before Dina could complain.

“Ugh I haven’t had cookies since I was a kid. I fucking love your mom, she’s just the best.” Dina complimented as she mounted Japan, taking the reins and walking the gelding out into the snow, Ellie not far behind on Shimmer. The young girl turned back to take one last glance at her mother brushing down another horse, a smile lighting up her face.

“Yeah, yeah she is.” Ellie agreed.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After such an early start, Ada was pleased when the day was beginning to draw to an end. She’d not stopped the whole day and she was tired.

When the time came to feed and bed down the horses for the night, she was more than ready to head home, eat dinner, maybe snuggle up to Joel on the couch to watch a movie and call it a day. She’d already sent Max home to his boys when she finished up the last of her routine checks to close up the barn; when she’d been ambushed by both Jesse and Dina.

They both looked terrified, Dina with tear stained cheeks and Jesse breathless and shell shocked like he’d just run for miles without taking a second to breathe.

The brunette couldn’t remember much of what was said when they’d bombarded her with information. Only that something bad had happened and it had happened to Joel.

A thousand thoughts had rushed through her head at once. A flash of images muddled with the white noise that squealed in her ears the closer she ran towards the infirmary. Her nightmare was coming true and she felt like she was drowning. Lost in a dark ocean of uncertainty, falling without a lifeline to hold on to.

When she burst through the doors, Tommy was the first to reach her. She winced aghast at seeing his injuries. His swollen black eye, the deep bloodied gash on his forehead. She felt numb as her brother in law explained what had happened. What those bastards had done to her husband. Shot and beaten mercilessly. Her heart ached, her eyes raw from the tears she’d cried. And what made the whole thing worse, was that Ellie had been there to see the whole thing.

Ada had tried to brace herself before stepping into Joel’s room, her hand trembling as she reached for the handle. Ellie was sat slumped over his bedside, her hand clinging to his as he lay unconscious. The scuff of her mother’s boots grabbing her attention as she rose to her feet and met her halfway when Ada rushed towards her with open arms.

“Mom!” Ellie whimpered and it reminded her all too much of that night all those years ago. Ada squeezed her eyes shut as she pulled Ellie closer, her heart beating in her ears.

“Oh baby girl.” She soothed, her hand gently stroking her back for comfort. “I tried…” Ellie hiccuped. “I tried to stop them. I begged them to stop but they wouldn’t listen. And I told Joel to get up, just fucking get up.” Her voice broke as the girl choked back another sob and Ada couldn’t help her own tears as she listened silently. Gently guiding Ellie back to Joel’s bedside so she could sit, all the while the mother never once letting go of her daughter.

“I told him to get up, but it was like he’d just given up.” She explained quietly. Her shaking hands reaching up to wipe at her sore bloodshot eyes. Her cheeks and nose reddened from her tears. “The doctor said he needs to be asleep for a while, something about something needing time to settle?! I don’t fucking know!” She shouted in frustration, almost collapsing from exhaustion in her chair.

Ada merely nodded solemnly. Tommy had partly explained before she’d rushed to Joel. The doctor had insisted on keeping Joel sedated to give the brain time to heal itself while the swelling subsides. Ada just hoped it wouldn’t take too long for him before he was able to wake up.

As the night drew on Ellie had finally given in to her fatigue, stretching on the old beat up couch in the corner of the room. Tommy had thoughtfully brought her a blanket and a bag of clothes for the girls before heading home himself, Ada swearing that she would send Ellie the second they had any news on his brother.

It wasn’t until then that Ada had the still and the silence of the night did she truly take in Joel’s injuries. His leg, broken and mangled. It had been a damn miracle that they’d even be able to save it. But there had been a reasonable amount of confidence it would eventually heal, though Joel would definitely have some difficulty getting around at first and most likely a permanent limp afterwards; he was damn lucky in that respect.

His head injuries however were a different story. There were still flecks of dried blood in patches of his dark head where the club had struck. Patches of hair cut away, close to the scalp in order to reach the violent blows into his crown. Deep cuts and dark bruises covered his handsome face. A good chunk of his ear was missing, she’d noticed as she softly brushed her fingers through his hair in a feeble attempt to clean him up. It had been treated and neatly stitched but would most likely leave a scar.

Her lips trembled as a quiet sob worked its way up into her throat, her eyes blurred from the welling tears the longer she looked at him.

She should have been there...Why hadn’t she been there?!

The days went by and Joel still hadn’t woken up. The doctor took him off sedation a few days after the attack, in the hopes he would come around on his own. The endless nights slowly dragging by, each holding with it a suffocating pause that felt to be drawing out longer and longer. Like the string of a bow, pulling tighter and tighter until it was closely reaching its breaking point, a moment of holding strong until it was too much to bear.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been exactly nine days later when Joel eyelids flickered. His fingers twitched and convulsed as he finally began to regain consciousness.

A string of mumbles and panicked gasps uttered from his dry lips as he stirred awake. And Ellie and Ada were right there beside him. The young girl skidding on her heel as she took off through the door in order to grab Tommy.

“Joel? Can you hear me?” Ada asked delicately. Her heart beating rapidly in her chest. Tentatively reaching out to place her hand upon his as he moved to face her with squinted eyes.

“Wher...Where?” He tried to speak. His voice low and rough like gravel. It strained against his dry throat. Ada quickly moving to his bedside to help him drink from the glass of water placed beside him.

He winced but managed a few mouthfuls before lowering himself back down against his pillow. His tired eyes darted around the room, breath quickening and short the more the confusion set in as to how he’d ended up there.

“You're in the infirmary. You were out with Tommy and were attacked.” Ada explained carefully, Joel’s eyes drifting back towards her sat by his bedside. “Was anyone else hurt?” He asked. “Tommy got roughed up a little, bump on the head and a black eye. Couple of bruised ribs but he’ll be fine.”

Joel simply nodded at the information. His eyes never leaving Ada.

“Is Sarah okay? I assume she’s with Tommy, could you call her? Tell her I’m okay…” He spoke so casually, Ada almost didn’t hear what he’d said. But yet there was no change in his eyes as he asked the question. “How long do you reckon till I can head home?”

This question made Ada stop cold. Her heart slowing and her breath catching in her throat.

“Joel... do you know who I am?”

He looked at her like she was crazy, the confusion met in the touching of his dark brows creasing with his forehead. “Yeah, you’re my doctor.”

It was at that moment Ada almost collapsed. When she realised there was truly no hint of recognition in Joel’s eyes as he stared at her.

Her worst fear realised; her own husband saw her as a stranger.

#the last of us #the last of us pt 2 #the last of us part ii spoilers #joel miller #joel miller x oc #joel x oc #Ellie Williams #fanfiction #Starlesskies writes

[jecrite]

so I just watched the ‘Inside the Mind of Hilary Hahn’ video and noticed something in that fire alarm story, so I wrote a little breddy excerpt about it - enjoy!

—————————————————

[starts from 35:54 in the vid btw]

If anyone was gonna watch that video, you could tell that Brett was nervous. I mean, meeting your violin idol, sitting next to her in front of Thai food, talking about anything and everything? What could go wrong?

Well, he could stop stuttering.

“I-I don’t know, I like to dabble in things,” he trails off, picking at his food. “But I need to...”

He sees Eddy in the corner of his eye, who was leaning back in his chair, his thoughts unreadable.

Eddy.

The scrawny kid with the mullet who sat to his right in maths tutoring. The vulnerable musician who he pushed around in a wheelchair when they were at the con. The messy, chaotic whirlwind who lives with him, who he chose over a soloist career.

The only thing who stayed constant in his many pursuits of something different.

For the first time that night, Brett lets the words come out of his mouth, pointed and assured.

“I feel like I need to be obsessed with it.”

He finally says, his eyes fixed on Eddy. Eddy’s face remains calm, pensive.

Has he said too much?

“Creating something, or... something.” Brett trails off to a halt, relying on Eddy to finish his sentence for him. Like he always does.

But he knew exactly how he wanted to finish it.

...or just being with him.

It feels weird to almost confess in front of Hilary (and, possibly, hundreds of thousands of people on the internet) that he’s obsessed with Eddy, but it also felt right in a way.

There’s really no other way to explain it.

He did not remember a day when he did not think of Eddy, what Eddy was wearing, how Eddy’s feeling, if Eddy’s eaten, if Eddy’s safe—

—if Eddy‘s just as obsessed with Brett as he is with him.

He should probably brush it off and stay present. It’s not like they’d notice.

Little did he know that Hilary was following his line of sight as he said it.

And he certainly did not expect when she smiled and asked,

“Are you obsessed with this?”

The urgency of the question snapped Brett out of his reverie, his eyes suddenly growing wide. The nonchalant tone in her voice sent a jolt through his body, causing him to flail his right arm between him and Eddy. “This?”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck—

“Yeah.”

You know what, fuck it.

“Ye-ah,” his voice rises, almost defensively. Eddy erupts with laughter, light and breathy and perfect. Hilary joins in shortly after, pleased with herself.

“Of course!”

In a quick glance Brett turned to his right, seeing Eddy’s head pulled back in laughter with a huge grin plastered across his face.

Brett has yet to grow tired of that face.

He was obsessed with Eddy, and he always has been.

“That was a long pause,” Eddy chides, obviously amused.

Brett’s smiling now, Eddy’s voice putting him at ease. At this point, anything goes.

“Yeah, I was like, was that a trick question? Like, hmm,” he laughs, pressing his fingers to his chin. He steals another look at Eddy. His Eddy.

“Yeah of course, I love it.”

Oh, but Hilary Hahn knew better.

“Because you create a lot with...” she trails off expectantly, wanting him to fill in the blanks.

It was never about it, isn’t it? It’s always been about him.

Brett nods, almost too enthusiastically, filling the silence with anything but Eddy’s name.

“It’s fun.”

That’s when Hilary asked about working, where the moment passes, and he’s safe.

For now, at least.

*

“We should probably start cleaning up. We only have fifteen minutes left in here,” Hilary huffs, leaving her seat as she picked up the plastic cutlery from the food containers.

“Yeah...” Eddy trails off, before he quickly stands in surprise. “Wait!”

Hilary froze, a stack of paper plates in hand, and Brett almost jumped from his seat. “Dude, What is it?”

“Practice review! We were meant to show them a clip of Hilary practicing!”

Shit.

“Oh, right,” Brett looks up at Hilary. “Maybe we can film it outside?” He offers apologetically.

Eddy clucks his tongue. “With those a Capella people? No way—“

Brett thought aloud. “Maybe if we clean up in like 5 minutes, we could film it quickly—“

“Or maybe just film it in the corridor—“ Hilary offers.

“Or, I could go to security and ask for 20 more minutes!” Eddy says, snapping his fingers. He looks over to see Brett and Hilary’s raised eyebrows, shrugging them off as he made a break towards the door.

“You two clean up, I’ll run to reception!” He shouts behind him, running at full speed.

Brett can only smile fondly as he left. What else was he gonna do?

His eyes meet Hilary’s and they can’t help but laugh at the younger man.

“He really is a whirlwind, isn’t he?” Hilary asks in a hearty chuckle.

“Yeah, he really is,” Brett grins as he placed the food containers back in the plastic bags.

Hilary hums.

“Is that what got you falling for him?”

He didn’t even have to say it.

The sound of the fallen plastic bags answered the question for him. The containers followed suit, bouncing off of the bags and onto the floor.

*

What a mess.

Hilary chuckles. “Sorry, too far?”

“No, no,” Brett chuckles nervously, hurriedly kneeling down to retrieve the plastic containers and putting them back in the bags. “Not at all, it’s just,”

Unexpected.

“Is it that obvious?”

An amused sigh. “Well, to a trained eye, maybe,” Brett swears she was smirking as she said this. “It’s the age old equation: you love him, he loves you, nothing else matters, might as well put the rings on now.”

She says it as if it was nothing, which prompted him to turn to the violin prodigy, furrowing his eyebrows.

“What gave it away?”

“Well,” Hilary starts, putting the plates in another plastic bag. “Maybe it’s because of the way he looks at you, or, the way your face just lights up when literally anything comes out of his mouth,”

Brett was standing now, having returned the containers in the bag.

“Or maybe that part when you said ‘our bed’ in that fire alarm story.” [which is from 14:12 in the video btw, you’re welcome]

The plastic bags almost escape his grasp again, but he caught it just in time.

“Oh my god,” he breathes out, horrified.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fu—

Hilary’s laughing now, high-pitched and bright. “Oh, don’t worry about it,” she says as he she pats his shoulder. “I’m sure no one will notice.”

He can already feel his face getting hot.

“But... but... but you did!” He exclaims, pointing an accusing finger at her.

Hilary’s laugh grew louder. “I did say I was trained, didn’t I?”

Suddenly Brett took an interest in the empty milk tea cups, only to look up again when the laughter stopped, and his eyes were met by expectant ones.

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

Hilary rolled her eyes and raised her eyebrows. “Do you really want me to say it again? We can’t have you picking containers up all night.”

Brett sighs, defeated. Eddy wasn’t here, why not just say it aloud now? While he can?

“Yes, Eddy’s a whirlwind,” he says, setting the plastic bags down on the table before making a start at tidying up the chairs. “But it wasn’t that that got me there.”

Hilary hummed again, urging him to continue.

“Eddy always tells me how brave I am, and how he wishes he was as brave as I was,

But I don’t think moving from place to place isn’t bravery. It’s cowardice.

Yeah, I like to dabble in things, sure, but that’s only because I’m so scared of staying in the same place. Being stagnant and... complacent.

I always wanted to do everything I wanted to do back then, moving to Sydney and all that, and I wanted that part of my life to be over and done with as quickly as I could.

Because, at the end of the day, I wanted to close that chapter and just... come back to him as soon as I can.

I realised that a couple of years into working with SSO, and once I did I knew what I had to do.”

“Come back to him,” Hilary echoes, smiling fondly at Brett.

“Exactly,” he resigns. He walked toward one of the chairs to grab his sweater before putting it on. “I never told Eddy this, but, when I saw him playing with Queensland I knew I didn’t want to go anywhere else. If I was going to travel the world like I’ve always dreamed of, I want him right there next to me.”

“And he still is,” Hilary nods.

“Yeah,” Brett’s head pops out of the sweater, grinning at his senior. “I guess that makes me the luckiest bastard in the universe.”

“What this about being a lucky bastard?” Eddy’s voice echoes the room, making Brett and Hilary jump, again. “Talked to the security guy in reception, he says he can only give us 15. I guess that’s enough for a little segment?”

Brett and Hilary looked at each other, eyes wide.

“Sounds good! I’ll grab my violin.”

Thank God for Hilary Hahn.

“Great! Lemme turn the camera on again,” Brett says, finally regaining his voice. He starts to walk towards the tripod until Eddy stops him, peering at the green light that blinked from behind it.

“What do you mean? We never turned it off,” Eddy says as he lifted the tripod and set it to Hilary’s direction. “Go, stand next to Hilary and we’ll just have editor-san cut the extra bits!”

[this bit is from 1:22:21 in the video btw!!]

Hilary, with her violin already resting on her shoulder, let out a breathy, nervous laugh as Eddy positioned the camera and ran towards them. Brett can’t even look at her in the eyes.

Nevertheless, he laughs alongside her, clasping his hands together.

“Practice review!”

“Practice, c’mon!”

Brett exhales deeply.

Oh my god, editor-san’s gonna have to cut that whole bit out.

“Okay!”

Shit.

#breddy #drabble #breddy fanfic #breddy drabble #ship: you are my beau soir / and you’re my clair de lune

[urdearestmom]

I'll Walk With You

hello everyone shocked to see me posting yet again???????

i said after i posted that oneshot rehashing 3x06 that i was going to one day write something where mike and max have an actual conversation.... and here it is!! for your reading pleasure :)

i think i did them and their dynamic justice with this and i'm super proud of how it turned out. we're unlikely to ever get something like this in the show but i'm hoping s4 at least gives us them being actual friends so that i can infer that something like this happened between seasons lol

Max’s house is silent as the grave. She isn’t surprised, it’s been like this nearly all the time since the summer. Her stepfather will drink himself back to sleep on the couch, and her mother will say nothing. Max won’t say anything either. The day has barely begun and it’s already shit.

Most of the time she escapes the horrible atmosphere inside her house by going to school, but it’s Spring Break now and she has nowhere to be. She’ll be stuck with her thoughts all day if she doesn’t find something else to do, so after nearly two hours of trying in vain to entertain herself, she decides to head out and see if Lucas is free. She knows Dustin already left town with his mom the night before, and she’s not willing to have Mike third wheel her and Lucas, so she hopes he’s down to go do something with her. He’s good at distracting her from the inescapable cycle of guilt and anger she feels constantly nowadays.

Except when she gets to his house, his parents are in the garage putting things into the trunk of the family car. She stops at the sight. Erica is nowhere to be seen but Lucas is standing in the front doorway and sees Max coming right away. He meets her in the street.

“Max, hey,” he says. “What’s up?”

Max gestures to his house. “I came to see if you wanted to hang out, but it looks like you guys are going somewhere.”

Lucas frowns. “I thought I told you, we’re going to visit my cousins in Chicago for a few days.”

Lord, a few days? Lucas must see it on her face because he scrambles to assure her it’s not for the whole week.

“I’ll be back Wednesday,” he promises.

“Today’s Sunday,” she protests. She knows there’s literally nothing to be done about it, but it still sucks. What’s she going to do all week?

“I swear I told you,” Lucas repeats.

“Yeah. Yeah,” Max answers. “You probably did. I’m sorry, just… forgot.”

He frowns again. Max has been forgetting a lot of things lately. She’s not sure why, it just feels like everything in her life is too much and her brain can’t handle it the way it should. Freshman year has not been the greatest so far.

“You okay?” He asks her, reaching for her hands, and his concern makes her heart squeeze painfully in her chest. He’s probably the only person who actually cares about her well-being, seeing as her mom clearly doesn’t.

Max nods. “Yeah. I just didn’t want to be at home, but I guess I’ll find something else to do. Bye, Lucas,” she says, squeezing his fingers gratefully before turning away to bike off back down the street.

“Hey!” He calls. She turns back. He motions to the big house next door, equally familiar to her. “Mike’s still home, maybe you can ask him?”

Max crosses her arms. “Like he would want to hang out with me,” she scoffs.

Lucas sighs. “Look, I know he can be a bit of an ass sometimes-”

“That’s putting it lightly.”

“-But he’s not a bad person, Max, you know that. He’s dealing with a lot right now,” Lucas finishes.

Max rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well, he’s not the only one,” she says bitingly. She has never gotten along with the third boy in their group and at this point she isn’t sure she ever will. She’s also not really in the mood to look at his stupid face today, considering it’ll more than likely start an argument and she doesn’t have the energy for that.

“I know,” Lucas says. “I know. But you’re both my best friends and I think you guys are more alike than you think. If you just gave each other another chance, you’d get along.”

Max doesn’t reply. She doesn’t really know what to say because she knows Lucas is only trying to help her with what he thinks is the current best solution, but she doesn’t want to agree with him either.

“Just think about it,” he continues. “He’s the only one not going anywhere so if you really need to see someone…”

She gets what Lucas is implying, but really? “He’d probably laugh in my face if I showed up at the door. I’d rather stay home.”

At that, Lucas raises his arms in surrender. “I’m just saying he wouldn’t turn you away. We don’t lie to each other, alright?”

Max shrugs in response. “Whatever. I’ll figure something out.”

Lucas steps forward quickly to hug her. Pulling back, he keeps his hands on her arms. “I wrote my cousins’ phone number on the back of your math worksheet yesterday if you need it.”

She gives him a tiny nod and he returns it with a small smile, dropping his arms back to his sides.

“I’ll see you first thing Thursday morning,” he adds.

“Thursday,” she repeats, putting one foot back on her bike pedal. “Got it.” What’s she supposed to do until Thursday?

The answer, as it happens, is absolutely nothing. For the rest of Sunday afternoon, Max rides around town with no destination. She stops in a park for a while, sitting down and pulling up blades of grass and sprinkling them around her. A man walking his dog gives her a weird look and she flips the bird at his back. That action feels oddly satisfying, even if he didn’t see it. In the evening she makes her way back to her house, and everyone pretends like she didn’t just spend the entire day gone.

Monday dawns looking and feeling exactly the same, except Max decides to get a start on some homework. This way when Lucas comes back she’ll be free to hang out with him without the thought of her assignments hanging over her head. Her mom leaves to go to work and all it does is make Max hyper aware of Neil’s movements across the house. He’s supposed to go to work too, but Max isn’t sure he will. In fact, she sort of suspects he’s either quit or been fired. He’s missed too many days.

When she’s tired of writing and the lines of her character analysis of Mercutio are starting to blur into the equations on her algebra worksheet, she goes into the kitchen to find something to eat. Neil’s gone, so she makes herself a ham and cheese sandwich and stands by the sink to eat it. She feels exhausted, and it’s barely afternoon.

Hours later, she wakes up from a nap to the sun near setting and the noises of her mom puttering around the kitchen making dinner. The first thing her gaze lands on is the clunky walkie-talkie sitting on her desk, and her thoughts spring to the boys. Specifically, what Lucas said to her the day before.

Maybe it has more merit than she first gave it. It’s true that she doesn’t get along with Mike at all, but she might be willing to try again at some point, if only to appease Lucas. She had wanted to when they all first met. She liked the other boys just fine, but she could tell from the get-go that Mike was their ringleader and his opinion could sway the others. If she wanted to truly feel like a part of the group, they all had to be on board. Even after that, things weren’t so terrible between them; at least until summer and all the drama with El and then everything else that happened. Now, Max’s headspace is too occupied by other problems to care much about trying to repair her somewhat-friendship with him, and Mike has become more and more reclusive by the day. She even thinks she saw him smoking once, down at the far end of the field, which, although she isn’t an expert, she feels is extremely uncharacteristic.

Everything’s just weird now. There’s too many empty holes in all their lives.

Dinner is mostly quiet; nobody in this house ever says anything that has any true meaning anyway. Maybe it’s better this way. Neil ends up on the couch joined by his bottle of whiskey and Max’s mom shoos her away after she’s cleared the table, so Max retreats back to her room. The silence is almost deafening, and she wishes that dumb walkie-talkie on her desk would crackle. What she wouldn’t give for someone to say real words to her.

She considers calling Lucas, but she doesn’t want to bother him with her problems when he’s supposed to be having fun with his cousins. She also doesn’t want Neil to ask who she’s calling. In the end, she ends up tidying her room, gathering up all her comic books and folding the clothes she has on the floor before placing them on her chair. The walkie seems like it’s calling out to her as she glances at it every five seconds, and then finally lets her frustration out on it by snatching it up and launching it at her bed. She doesn’t want to break it, but she did want to throw it. Why does she keep looking at it? It’s not like anyone’s going to call her on it. The only people who might are both out of town.

Her emotions war inside of her. On the one hand, she knows what she wants, what she needs. She needs to talk to someone freely so it has to be someone who relates to what she’s seen, because being stuck virtually alone inside her house for the next few days until Lucas gets back is going to drive her insane. Unfortunately the only person she can think of is someone she isn’t on good terms with, which makes her angry for even having the thought. Is she really desperate enough to potentially embarrass herself?

Damn Lucas for putting the idea in her head. She’s sure she never would’ve considered it on her own. Damn Lucas and his stupid advice, damn Dustin for ever speaking to her that day and getting her involved in all their mess, and damn Mike for hating her from day one.

Damn her for going to talk to him anyway. She sneaks out her window, just as she has done to meet Lucas so many times, except it’s after nine and it’s dark out. She brings the walkie with her.

On the way, she wonders why she’s even doing this. She supposes it would make it easier for Lucas and Dustin when they all hang out together (which is getting rarer every week) if she and Mike aren’t constantly at each other’s throats about something or other. She also remembers something El said to her on the phone a while ago that she had forgotten about until this very moment. El had heard enough complaints from both of them about each other and was just wishing they would stop fighting. Max had scoffed at it and been about to launch into another rant about just how much of a jerk Mike was when El had said she didn’t care if they weren’t friends, she just wanted them to stop being so mad all the time.

Max kind of agrees with her. Being angry all the time is exhausting, and there are way worse things in her life to be angry about than Mike Wheeler and his dumb attitude. If she can make peace with him, maybe she won’t feel so out of place around her own friends. And maybe, if they can get over everything that’s happened between them, it’ll give her hope that the rest of her life might look up one day, too.

It’s only when she gets to his house that she realizes she doesn’t know what she wants to say. Maybe it doesn’t have to be a whole conversation, maybe just seeing each other for five minutes will give her enough stability to stay in her house until Lucas returns and she can talk to him instead. She just needs to be around someone who knows the things she’s been through since she moved here, someone who looks at her and knows why she is the way she is. Her mom can never know and will never understand, and Neil is too scary to ever think about approaching him with anything at all.

She drops her bike in the grass by the back of the house, making her way to the basement door where she knows the boys like to be. He’s probably in there still. Her stomach is roiling with nerves, scared that he’ll open the door and glare at her like he usually does, but she remembers there’s another way he looks at her sometimes. There are moments at school, when she passes the gym or sees the basketball team, where Max gets overwhelmed at the memories of her dead stepbrother. It’s almost like she can smell him, the way he used to get up in her face when he yelled at her and the way he looked when he died apologizing to her. It’s moments like that when Dustin and Lucas will be distracted with some petty disagreement that she looks to Mike and his gaze contains solidarity instead of hostility; reassurement that he knows what it feels like to be reminded at every turn of someone you cared about who is gone. He was there, too, and saw Billy sacrifice himself at the last moment just as she did. It’s not an image either of them can forget.

It’s this that gives her the courage to rap her knuckles on the glass pane of the basement door and wait for an answer. When she waits ten seconds and nothing happens, she frowns and knocks again. He wouldn’t know it’s her, why would he ignore it?

She pushes her face up to the door again and tries to see inside, her breath fogging against the glass, and then realizes all the lights in the basement are off.

“Shit,” she says quietly. She doesn’t want to show up at the front door at this time of night. His mom will probably answer and Max doesn’t want to explain herself. She wanders around to the front of the house anyway, looking at which lights are on. There’s one on the ground floor that flickers and seems like it might be a TV, and there’s one on in a room on the second floor. That room has pink wallpaper, though, so Max decides to assume it’s not the one she’s looking for. The middle upstairs window is dark, and the one on the left has the blinds pulled halfway down, but she spots a familiar figure walking past it in the half second her eyes jump to it. Bingo.

She takes a breath to steel herself before bringing the walkie-talkie out of her jacket pocket and pressing down on the button. “Mike, do you copy? It’s Max. Over.”

The walkie crackles with static for a few seconds, and then clears up as an answer comes through. “Yeah, I copy. What do you want? Over.”

“Can you come outside?”

It crackles again in the silence, and Max thinks that maybe this was insane and she should just go home. Then, “You’re outside?”

The blinds lift all the way up and Max sees Mike’s expression change from confused to surprised, like he didn’t actually believe she was there. In a second, he has the window pulled up too and his head sticking out of it.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, his tone of voice anxious, and Max realizes he probably thinks something horrible has happened. In his head, there’s likely no other reason she of all people would show up at his house at close to ten at night.

“Nothing happened, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she says, glancing away from him above her and noticing she’s standing in front of the front door. This is not a good place to be. “I just- didn’t want to be alone.”

She looks back up to find him staring at her like she’s grown another head. “So you came to me?”

Max huffs and crosses her arms. “Well, there’s no one else to go to!”

“Keep your voice down!” He hisses. “Do you want my mom to hear you?”

She glares. She’s starting to think that this was a bad idea after all.

After a few seconds of mutinous eye contact, Mike puts a hand to his forehead exasperatedly. “Give me a minute, I’ll meet you at the basement door.” He shuts the window and pulls the blinds down without another word, so Max heeds the order and circles back around to where she left her bike. A few moments later, he comes out the door shrugging on a jacket over what looks like-

“Are those Star Wars pyjamas?” She asks, her mouth twisting into a teasing little smile. What does El see in this guy? As far as she knows, Lucas isn’t this completely nerdy.

He gives her a flat look. “Why do you have to have a problem with everything that I do?”

She frowns. “It was just a question. Relax, jeez.”

In response, Mike puts his hands in his pockets and looks at her. “So what do you want to do?”

Max balks for a second, awkwardness taking over her. This is so weird. She’s never willingly chosen to spend any of her time alone with Mike, and now she doesn’t know what to do.

“Um… just- walk around, maybe?”

He shrugs at her answer and starts walking toward the line of trees behind the house, where there’s a little path that leads off to the next street. Max follows quietly, a little moonlight shining down on them, and she thinks that the silence between them doesn’t feel as explosive as it usually does.

Somewhere along the way, after they’ve crossed another street and gone down a path between two houses, Mike takes something shiny out of his pocket and starts playing with it, and Max sees that it’s a lighter.

“What’s that for?” She asks.

“Lighting things up,” he says.

“You smoke?”

“Only sometimes.”

“So what’s it for the other times?”

He looks at her and his eyebrows furrow for a quick second, seemingly surprised that she inferred something about him correctly.

Mike shrugs again. “Sometimes I go out to the woods and set dead leaves on fire one at a time just to watch them burn. It’s weird how something that was alive once can just disintegrate right in front of you.”

Max isn’t sure what to say to that, but she offers something anyway. “Sometimes I steal my stepdad’s Bowie knife. Use it to stab trees,” she says casually. “Sometimes I even carve that I hate him into them.”

She’s never told Lucas that. Something in her knows that he wouldn’t relate, that his way of dealing with his anger is much calmer and reserved, but Mike’s admission of low-level violence makes her feel less crazy for her own. Maybe Lucas was right in saying they’re more alike than they think they are.

They come out of the trees behind the houses, and the path continues down a hill to a small playground area. There's a swing set that Max sits down on, the cold rubber biting through the fabric of her jeans and making her shiver. The chains creak when Mike sits in the one next to her. He’s digging through his pockets for something.

Max is almost surprised when he pulls out a box of cigarettes and plucks one from the pack, lighting it, but given what he’d just told her two minutes ago it’s not that shocking. He takes a pull from it and then blows the smoke out into the air slowly.

“You want some?” He asks, turning to her.

She remembers the choking sensation she’d felt that time Billy had offered her a drag from his cigarette, and then her mom’s reaction to it.

“Yeah, why not.” Maybe if she still smells like smoke tomorrow, her mom will care enough to ask where she’s been.

Mike hands it to her and the tips of his fingers are warm. “You’ve smoked before?”

“Once,” Max says.

He nods and watches her, and she tries not to let the hot, ashy air she breathes in make her choke. She holds it for a few seconds and then blows it out, and it makes her feel less nervous than she was before about this whole situation.

The pair of them sit there in the darkness for a few minutes, sharing the cigarette in silence, before Max thinks to ask a question she never got a real answer for.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

Mike doesn’t look at her, sucking in another breath of smoke. “I don’t hate you.”

“You sure act like you do.”

“Oh, and you don’t?” He says sarcastically, still not looking at her. “If I hated you why would I be here right now?”

“Well, if I hated you, why would I have come talk to you?” She retorts, trying to restrain the irritation she knows is probably written all over her. If she doesn’t rein herself in, she knows this is going to go south quicker than she wants it to.

He laughs dryly. “You said it yourself. You only came because there’s no one else.”

Max bites back the anger that’s trying to rise. He does have a point there, but she’s not going to tell him that. He’s also not answering her question.

“Fine. Maybe you don’t hate me.”

“I don’t.”

“What’s your problem with me then?”

He hands her the end of the cigarette to finish and grabs onto the chains of the swing, dragging the toes of his Converse through the grass.

“You’re always starting shit with me for no reason and it makes me so tired,” he says. “Like, we’d be friends just fine if we didn’t argue every other day.”

“And whose fault is that…” Max murmurs under her breath, dropping the cigarette stub to the ground and putting it out with her foot.

Mike turns to her sharply. “Uh, yours? You made El break up with me! How am I supposed to forget that?”

“I already told you I didn’t make her!” Max says loudly. Why is he still on this? As far as Max is aware, they’re basically back together anyway so it’s not like it made a difference. “And how am I supposed to forget how shit you made me feel the first week I was here?”

He looks away again. “I was pretty rude, I’ll give you that.”

She scoffs. “That’s underrating it. You were a total asshole.”

He pushes himself forward a little bit and then lets himself swing back. “I guess I never really apologized for that. I do regret it.”

Max stays silent and waits for him to continue. He’s slumped over in the swing, looking smaller and sadder than she’s ever seen him look, and her heart twinges. She recognizes the defeat present in the way his shoulders are hunched, the complete and utter exhaustion at the state of their lives painted on his face. It’s what she sees every day when she looks in the mirror.

“It wasn’t that I didn’t like you, or something,” he tells her. “I was jealous that Lucas and Dustin seemed like they were moving on when I was so…”

“Messed up?” She offers.

Mike shrugs. “Yeah. And part of it was out of concern for you, too.”

Max furrows her brows in confusion. That’s new. “Concern?” She asks, shaking her head slowly. Her hair swings around her face like a curtain, blocking her vision, but she wants to look at Mike and see how he explains this. She tucks it away behind her ear.

“Yeah,” he says again. “I could see how fucked up Will was, and I knew how fucked up I was. And Dustin and Lucas are good at pretending stuff doesn’t affect them but I know it did. It does.”

“And?”

“And I didn’t want someone new getting mixed up in our shit, okay?” He bursts out, meeting her curious gaze once again. “I didn’t want someone else to have to experience the stuff we did. I thought if I made it obvious that I didn’t want you there, you would leave. You know now, but when Lucas told you we couldn’t tell you stuff for your own safety it was the truth.”

Max thinks about that. She supposes it makes sense. She has noticed that Mike tends to be the guy that worries about everyone else’s safety, and always wants to get to the bottom of the problem before anyone gets hurt. Lucas is the same and it’s something she admires about him, but it’s overtly obvious in Mike when he’s always the one stressing about coming up with plans. Lucas is a little more go-with-what-the-adults-say.

“I’m sorry that I hurt you,” Mike finally says, and his expression is earnest. He’s a bad liar anyway, so Max knows that he means it. Speaking of his lies… she has something to apologize for too.

“I’m sorry too,” she says. “For judging your relationship too fast.”

He makes a weird noise when he registers what she said, almost like a laugh but kind of mad, too. “Yeah, and for making my girlfriend dump me.”

Max reaches out towards him and smacks his arm, a spike of irritation fuelling her. “Mike, how many goddamn times do I have to tell you I didn’t make her?”

“Well, what the hell did you say to her to make her do that?!” He exclaims.

The peace of the previous moment is gone and Max crosses her arms over her chest defensively. “From what she told me, it sounded like you were just lying straight to her face so you didn’t have to see her. All I did was tell her that if you did it again, she should dump your ass. You did it to yourself.”

Mike throws his arms up. “Hopper made me lie! He told me if I didn’t, he wouldn’t let me see her anymore. You seriously think I wouldn’t want to spend time with her? After everything we went through?”

She thinks for a second about the way he’d looked when El had walked back into their lives; the way he had seemed to drop all the negativity he’d been carrying around the second she came through that door. Max remembers thinking she’d never been so sure about someone’s presence in her life.

He’s still on a roll. “What, is that why you’ve dumped Lucas, like, seven times? You just break up with him the second he does something you don’t like without even letting him explain himself?”

Bringing that up is a sore point. Max feels incredibly guilty for the way she’s treated Lucas in the past, and she’s trying to be better. She’d told him once that she knew she could be a jerk like her stepbrother sometimes, that she was angry just like he was, but that she didn’t want to be like him. And then she turned around and behaved exactly like him, manipulating Lucas’ reactions and dumping him over and over because she knew he would come back. It made her feel like she was in control, the dominant one, the complete opposite of what she saw in her mother and what she felt in her house every day.

But she had come to a point where she realized that one day, Lucas would get fed up with her. There would come a day when he wouldn’t stand for it anymore and he’d leave her permanently, and Max didn’t think she could live with that. From then on, she had decided to try harder with him and make things better, to talk about her feelings more. It’s always going to be difficult for her, but Lucas is worth it.

“Don’t say that like you know anything about why I did that,” she says sharply, gripping so tightly onto the chain of the swing that the cold metal feels like ice in her hand.

Mike glares back at her, indignant. “Oh, that’s rich! Like you knew anything about me when you said that shit to El!”

Max stands up suddenly. “I’m tired of the lies, Mike! Do you know what it’s like to live in a house where your mom will watch your brother get beat up and leave the room so she can pretend it didn’t happen? Where she doesn’t care where you go or how you feel or what’s going on with you because if she doesn’t ask, she doesn’t have to lie to herself that it’s okay? Where we all just don’t talk about anything and pretend it’s all fine when it isn’t?”

She’s breathing hard and he’s staring up at her with wide eyes, accustomed to her outbursts by now but not like this. Max sits back down on the swing, hard.

“I broke up with Lucas a lot because it made me feel like I had control,” she admits. “I needed to feel like I was in charge of the situation. I get enough of being treated second-class at home, and I don’t want to be like my mom, ever.”

She looks back at Mike on the other swing and he doesn’t look mad at her anymore, only like he’s processing what he’s just heard. It lets her own anger drain out of her.

“When El told me what you said, it reminded me of my mom,” Max continues. “She seemed so confused on why you would do that and to me it looked like you were just using her when you wanted her and dropping her when you didn’t. My mom kind of… disappears into whoever she’s dating and just goes along with whatever they do, and it looked like that for me,” she finishes.

“I get it,” he says, and Max raises her eyebrows. “I mean, I don’t get it personally, my parents aren’t like that. I just meant I get where you’re coming from. It makes sense why you would think that way.”

“I didn’t want the same thing that happens to my mom to happen to El,” Max adds. “She is her own person, and she of all people deserves the chance to be that.”

At last, they find common ground. “I agree,” Mike replies. “She’s been through enough in her life. And I’m happy you and her are friends now,” he adds. “Seriously. It was kind of weird to imagine her having girl problems or something and talking to my sister about it. I’m glad she has you.”

“I’m glad she has you,” Max says, and Mike looks shocked to hear her say it. “I might not get why, but I know you make her happy somehow. Even if you do wear Star Wars pyjamas.”

“Hey!” He says, offended. “You recognizing it means you’ve seen it too. And I know for a fact you read comics, so you’re just as much of a nerd as me.”

Max shrugs, giving him the point. “At least I can beat you at arcade games.”

“Is that a challenge?” He asks, swinging closer as if to intimidate her.

Max laughs, and it’s a real laugh for the first time in what feels like forever. “You’re on.”

“Tomorrow,” Mike suggests. “Twelve o’clock. I’ll meet you there.”

“Bring painkillers,” she warns him. “You’re gonna need them after I’m done kicking your ass at every. Single. Game.”

“You won’t beat me at Galaga,” he says proudly.

“Wanna bet?”

They stand up and shake hands, and his feels pleasantly warm. It’s a nice change from the frozen chain she was holding onto.

“Loser gets us fries,” Mike adds, and Max agrees to it. As if of one mind, they both turn back up the path they came from.

They’re back across the two streets they crossed and almost all the way back to Mike’s house when Max speaks again.

“So are we good?” She asks. She feels good about having aired out all the conflict she had with him, and he’s had this dumb smile on his face the whole time they’ve been walking back, which she’s choosing to take as a good sign.

“Yeah,” he says, looking at his feet. “We’re good.” He smiles wider.

It brings a small smile to Max’s own face. Having friends feels nice. “Why are you smiling like that?”

He coughs a little, scratching his head. “Just thinking about how happy El will be when she finds out we’re not enemies anymore.”

Max rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “You are so whipped.”

He shrugs as if to say, what can you do?

“I think Lucas and Dustin will benefit from having us not trying to kill each other every five seconds, too,” she says.

“Definitely.”

“Although I’ll probably still be annoyed by half the things you say.”

Mike makes a face like he’s not surprised to hear that. “Don’t worry about it. You’re still annoying, I just like you now. No more actual fighting.”

“Good,” she replies, feeling happier than she has in days as they arrive back in his backyard. She can faintly see her bike lying in the grass.

Mike has the door to the basement halfway open by the time she’s sitting on her bike ready to ride away, and at the last second lays a hand on her arm.

“Hey, anytime you need somewhere to go… I’m usually home,” he says, looking at her directly. It’s a simple thing to say, but she knows what he means by it. He’s telling her that he understands that sometimes her house is not a home, and that she’s always welcome in his if she needs it.

“Thanks,” she responds, and for once she is truly thankful for Mike Wheeler’s existence.

“Well, good night,” he answers, and awkwardly salutes her out of nowhere.

Max squints at him confusedly for a second. “I’ll... see you tomorrow,” she says haltingly.

He looks kind of embarrassed and shuts the door quickly, and Max rides off back to her house. That was random.

However, she is looking forward to tomorrow. She has a feeling Mike’s going to be the type of friend she’s constantly competing with, ribbing back and forth to see who can be worse just like they usually do, but this time knowing they’re both forgiven for their mistakes. It’s different from her other friendships for sure, but she thinks it’ll be good. Lucas is going to be pleased.

Maybe the wait until Thursday won’t be so bad after all.

#YALL please let me know what you think of this #i have so many thoughts on this pairing #SO MANY #also if you liked it please rb to share so more people can read it!! <3 #stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things 3 #stranger things fanfiction #urdearestmom

[edyacouky]

Diamonds are Hood best friends

Here just a silly thing I wrote. I hope you will like it.

Have a nice day everybody :D

Can be read on AO3

                                                        ~*~

Jason is stressed in his kitchen. He has so much to do and so little of time. He should have refuse. Why did he accept do it is beyond him.

“What are you making? Roy asks him when he comes search for glass of water

-A mess. Jason groans. And don’t come near the food with your dirty hand.

-You were used to love my dirty hand. Roy dramatically gasps. What happen to us?”

But Jason doesn’t even smile. He keeps cooking like the food is some kind of annoying opponent who have to purpose to destroy his life.

“This bad. Roy said more seriously now. You know we can always cancel it. We could say we have an emergency while the true is it would you and me on our couch eating fast food and watching a movie.

-It’s not like we could cancel it forever. So do that now to get rid of it.

-It’s just a family dinner, Jaybird. Not the end of the word.

-It’s our family dinner. I am sure something will go wrong. I will bungle the dish. Or Bruce and Oliver will yell at each other. Or they will be yelling at us.

-Like hell I will let them do that at our home.”

Roy sight when Jason still frowns with worry eyes. Of course, Roy saw that this last day Jason was shaken by having the Batfamily and the Arrowfamily in the same time at their home. Hell, Jason was shaken since their relationship was known by their family.

It is not like they were hiding it, or Roy doesn’t think it was something they did, but their “good” relationship with members of their family was still new.

Honestly without the cameraman who not only stole the moment Arsenal kissed an injury Red Hood after a battle, but also decide to share it on social network, they will have keep that for them.

“You should have deny or not answer their call. Jason said with despair

-It’s that so bad that they know about us.

-I don’t know. Things were just so perfect before they knew, you know?

-Are you afraid that they will not approve.

-Maybe.

-Would that change anything if they didn’t approve?

-I don’t know. Jason confesses with guilt. You know how I can get because of them.

-I know. Roy admits. As much as you should know you can’t get rid of me.”

Roy keeps his reassuring smile while he catch Jason’s belt to making him come closer to him. He enlaces Jason, putting his hands on his lower back.

“I will never let you let me leave. I promise I'm not lying. Go ahead ask anybody who has seen me trying. I'm not going, if it seems like I did I'm probably waiting outside. Roy starts to song while kissing Jason neck

-I always thought that this song was about a dangerous stalker.

-But the melody is nice.”

Jason doesn’t contradict him and finally start to smile. Roy puts on of his hand on Jason’s cheek, his thumb caressing his cheekbone.

Tenderly, slowly, they kiss. Jason relax in his lover’s arms and trust him when he said that he will never let Jason waste what they have because of some of his insecurity. They know each other to well to not know how deal with each other bullshit.

“Did you put grease everywhere on my face?

-Maybe.

-Jeez Roy. I tell you not put your dirty hand anywhere from the food.

-Oh, Jaybird, I know that I eat you out a lot but you’re still a human being.

-God you’re the worst.” Jason laughs

                                                           ~*~

“It’s really ok we all come? Oliver asks again to Dinah when they get in the MPV

-Again. Dinah sight while she secure little Robert. Jason said it was only fair since there will be seven members of his family.

-How much are we going to be?

-Again. Dinah and all the children said

-We are seven, they are seven, plus Roy and Jason, we will be sixteen. Dinah answer

-Ok. Ok. I understand I should still be quiet. It’s just I can’t believe they have the room to do a dinner for sixteen. And did Roy said that Jason cook the dinner tonight?

-Yes, he did. Cynthia sings song. Roy gives me cupcake made by Jason once. They were delicious.

-Sound like a lot of work for one person.

-Not everyone have a multibillion dollar to buy an army of domestic so they can be lazy. Connor Hawke jokes

-Well, Roy and Jason aren’t poor. Dinah defend. Even if you only count clean money, Roy gains more than enough with his inventions.

-Ah! So they could have used a caterer.

-Don’t start say thing like that. Dinah warns him. They will think you judge them. Connor Lance-Queen, stop immediately to bother Olivia.

-And don’t start to scream, young man. Or you will see what your mother will do.” Oliver adds severely

Dinah gives him an unimpressive look before she only sighs.

                                                          ~*~

“Why do I have to come?

-Damian. Bruce said

-What? You accepted this invitation without ask us if we agree.

-Not untrue. Tim whispers gaining a punch in his chest from Cassandra

-Be nice, Little D. Dick request him. It’s the first time that Littlewing invite us for a family dinner. It would be nice if it wasn’t the last too.

-Why? Cite one of our family dinner who end well. Damian reclaims

-Oh! N°726. That’s their apartment! Dick exclaims, ignoring Damian’s last remark

-Why didn’t he answer the question? Duke asks. What should I expect from this?

-Everything will be fine. Bruce said going to open the door but Alfred stops him

-I raise you better than that Master Bruce.” He scolds him while knocking on the door

They wait a few seconds where Bruce’s children make fun of his bad manner, before Jason opens them.

“Hi, glad you could make it.” Jason said to them by automatism

Not that he wasn’t really happy to have them in his home, but he becomes nervous again. Roy’s family was already there and for the moment everything was fine.

But when life doesn’t fuck up with Jason?

“Master Jason, you look really elegant. Alfred compliments him

-Thank you, Alfie. You’re awesome as ever.”

As stupid as he may sound, his family realizes only now how important this dinner was for Jason. He seems really nervous and not only he did a big effort in his outfit, but when they enters the apartment they see that he put a lot of work on the decoration and the dishes.

“Hey guys and girl! Roy smiles at them. Good to see you.

-Good to see you to Roy. Dick answers hugging him

-Gladly to be there. Damian even said after a pointy look from Cassandra.

-Well, come have a seat. We have just started the aperitif. Do you want drink something?”

They sit at the table, only place in their apartment where everyone can seat, and start eating, drinking and talking.

At first everyone acts like they tread on thin ice, they didn’t know what to say to prevent any conflict. Eventually, the younger ones were more at the ease and help the adult to relax.

“I am just saying that calling your cave Arrow cave is totally plagiarism of the Batcave.

-This is my cave. I’m Green Arrow. How do you want me to call it?

-Quiver. Cassandra said

-Oh! This is an awesome idea!

-Not mine. Harley’s.

-Not sure if I should be comfortable that you talk about me with your psychopath villain.

-She needs to be heard.”

Seeing Jason relaxed laughing with the other, Roy smiles tenderly at him and put his hand on Jason’s knee. Jason doesn’t even hesitate when he see Roy’s gaze and kiss him lovingly.

“Love you.

-Love you too.”

It was past midnight. The younger ones are asleep in the couple’s bedroom, or in Damian case sprawl on the couch. They had finish to eat an hour ago and they all compliment Jason for his cooking making him ferociously blush. After that, nobody acted like they will leave soon, so they drink coffee and tea.

“Oh! Before I forget.” Roy suddenly exclaim going out of the table

He comes back one minute later, with some money.

“Here.

-Thanks. But you give me too much. Jason said after he counts the bills.

Roy shrugs and kisses Jason’s neck.

“Buy you a book.”

Jason tenses when he heard a giggle.

“What?

-Nothing. Oliver tries to defend himself. Just funny to see that is my son the sugar daddy in this relationship.

Almost everyone in the table choke on their drink before they laugh.

“What the hell Ollie? Bruce said shocked

-What? That’s true.

-Fuck no. I am not a lubricious old man.

-Yet.

-And he doesn’t support me. I have money, thank you.

-Why did he give you some then? Ollie jokes

-I just lost my debit card. He advances me until my new one arrives.

-It’s not that stupid what Ollie said.

-Oh. And how so Dickhead?

-Well my darling Littlewing, you’re younger than Roy to begin.

-You’re the one who do the cooking and the cleaning.

-Yeah I should help you more with that.

-No thanks. I see how you tidy up your workshop; I don’t want that in the rest of the apartment.

-And at the last event you go together the entire people magazine was saying “Who is the mysterious trophy husband Roy Harper has found?”

-Well he is still legally dead. If he was still officially a Wayne and we go to a gala, I’m sure I will be the trophy husband.

-Not sure. Jason knows how to dress better than you Roy. I am sure he will still be the trophy husband.

-Father! Damian exclaims from the couch. It may be just Todd, but will you really let them talk about one of us like that?

-I love you too Demon Brat.

-I knew you care. Dick coos before trying to hug Damian

-No! Grayson! Don’t come closer!

-Well my mother used to say to never underestimate a trophy wife. Because they could easily have the world at their feet. Bruce said ignoring the mess his two sons are making in the living room

-I thought that your parents had the same age.

-My father was younger by one year and half. But my mom worked frequently with trophy wife for charity event.”

They start to talk about other things when a knock interrupt them. Everybody tense, slowly Jason goes to the door and look at the peephole.

“It’s one of our neighbors. Hi, sir. What can I do for you? Jason asks him after open the door

-Hi. Look, you’re good neighbor and normally I would have pas that but, I have to just come back from work and I have to go visit my family in another state today. Just, I really need to sleep so can you lower the sound.

-Of course. Jason looks at Dick and Damian stop during their wrestling. We will let you sleep. Sorry for that.

-Thank, good night.

-Good night to you too.

-Well seems like it’s time to go. Dinah said

-You’re sure?

-Yeah, it’s late. The kids are already asleep.

-We will go too. Bruce said

-Sure?

-Yeah. Thank for the invitation.”

They all said good bye at the door.

They kiss and promise to do that again soon. With Olivia in his arms, Oliver hugs first Roy then Jason.

“Thank to have invited us tonight.

-You’re welcome.

-And thanks for the dinner. He said hugging Jason. It must have taken a lot of work to prepare that meal for sixteen.

-That’s fine.” Jason answer a little startled by the demonstration of affection

Bruce is the last to leave their apartment.

“Sorry we bother your neighbor.

-Don’t worry about that. I’m surprised it’s happen only now.

-Take care of you.

-That’s work for you too.”

They both smile and for a moment, Jason think that Bruce may hugs him but he just go with the rest of the family.

“Well everything was great. Roy said starting cleaning the table. We worry for nothing.

-I was sure that Oliver and Bruce will make a scene. Jason adds helping Roy

-And when Ollie start saying I was your sugar daddy, Roy laughs, I prayed that Bruce doesn’t beat me.

-They’re completely crazy.

-And you and I make all this crazy people one and only one family.

-Have mercy on us.”

                                                      ~*~

Some day later, Jason is taking his breakfast with Tim.

“Sound like RedArse isn’t trendy anymore. Jason said looking at the news on his phone. SuperRobin stole us the show.”

One video of Kon kissing passionately Tim on the top of a Gotham’s building was everywhere on social network.

“Shut up. Bruce already lectures about not being attentive and unprofessional.

-Please, tell me you ask him if it was professional to sleep with a burglar he is supposed to arrest.

-No. Tim laughs. But if you do, film his reaction.

-Promise. Jason said before go search for salt

-While you’re at it. Can you get me some blueberry? They must be in my fridge.”

Jason goes in the kitchen; if he found the salt easily he can’t say the same for the blueberry.

“Are you sure you have blueberry?

-Maybe I put it in one of my closet.

-Nope. No blueberry in sight. Jason confirms after open up twice each closet

-I must have forgotten to buy it. Thank anyway.”

Jason sit down and stop what he wanted to do because something looks wrong with his phone.

“Did you touch my phone?

-Yes, Tim admits after a pause, we take beat which kind of Roy’s photo you have as wallpaper.

-What do you mean which kind?

-You know. Kind Roy asleep, kind both of you kissing, kind sexy Roy or kind embarrassing for Roy.

-Well sorry to disappointed you.

-Yeah I didn’t expect a dog. You don’t have one, do you?

-It’s an old picture of the dog I had when I was a kid. Some weeks ago, Bruce found some of my family old photo on squat of junkies.

-Your dog was cute. What were they name?”

                                                      ~*~

Jason’s day was pretty exhausting so he is happy when he found Roy sit on the couch. He fall on the couch, put his head on Roy’s knee.

“Hard day.

-Awful. This child trafficker I had to catch decides to make me run after him.

-He didn’t dare.

-He’s an asshole. I make sure that everyone at the jail will know what he did to children.

-You didn’t kill him?

-No, he has some information that could be useful to save more kids and anyways Bruce is on this case too.

-Well I hope this could make you feel better.”

Only now, Jason see the little box with a golden ribbon on the table.

“What is it?

-Well it is for you so open up.

-If I’m not a lucky boy.”

In the little box, there are diamond cufflinks. Usually Jason think that diamond jewelries are too flashy but the one Roy choose are discreet. And Roy looks at him so hopefully that even if he didn’t like it, he couldn’t tell him that.

“That’s beautiful.

-You love it?

-Yeah. Thank you.

-Since there is this gala where we have to go, I though cufflinks was a good idea.

-That’s perfect. Thank you so much.”

Jason kisses him deeply sitting in his lap.

“And I think I should make you a lucky boy too.

-No need. If you’re too tired, I can understand.

-I am in good shape.”

Jason takes Roy’s shirt away before kisses him languorously.

                                                        ~*~

“That’s new? Selina asks him at the gala looking interested by Jason’s cufflinks

-Yes. And gift from Roy so if you can let me leave with them I will appreciate it.

-Everything to make you happy kitten.”

Jason doesn’t like Selina’s smile but as she say she doesn’t stole him so maybe it was something else.

                                                    ~*~

Jason is with the Bird of Prey. He needs their help on a case and they are kind enough to at least listen to what he has to say.

“Sound reasonable. Barbara admits

-I’m a reasonable man.

-I want you to promise you will not using anything I will give you for kill someone.”

Jason sight loudly. Honestly this kind of rich guy he was after for the corruption case was the kind he prefers dead. But if he successes make them lost all their fortune that will be enough.

“I promise.

-Good, give me your phone, I will transfer you all the data we have in this case.

-And we will tell you if we see something during patrol. Helena adds. But only if you don’t hide anything.

-I’m not B. If I say I want work with you, it means I will work with you and not using you while keeping secrets. I’m sure Babs already takes all the info I had on my phone, and we will stay in contact.

-I’m done with your phone. Barbara said and gives it him back

-Thanks.

-No, thanks to you.”

Jason shivers unexpectedly. He has a weird feeling suddenly. But the girls are nice and he will not accuse them of something just because a draught make him feels weird.

                                                           ~*~

Some hours later, he meets Roy at the dinner they both like. They couldn’t see each other for the next days because of their jobs so they decide have a date. So the separation will be less difficult.

“How was your day? Jason asks him after kissing him quickly and takes place at the table.

-Better now that I see you.

-What will you do without me?

-I will get to know an old friend again. Roy jokes shaking his right hand

-Jeez, why did I love you again? Jason laughs after he kicks Roy under the table

-Well, I hope this could help you regain your memory.” Roy said putting a box out of his vest once their order taking by the waiter

Again, Jason thinks surprised. But he is touched by the gesture.

“I have nothing for you. Jason admits embarrassed

-That’s not a problem. It’s a gift as much for you than for me.”

Jason looks at him suspiciously. The little grin Roy had makes him suspect the worst, but they are on a public space, with some kids around, Roy wouldn’t dare offer him something to …suggestive, right?

Cautiously, Jason opens the box and found what seem to be two diamonds earrings.

“Oh, I’m just pierced at the right ear. Jason said confused

-You have an ear pierced? Roy asks amazed

-I was fourteen years old. It was after a fight with Bruce. It was stupid. Jason feels the obligation to defend himself

-Sound like a conversation for another day. Roy said feeling his partner’s embarrassment. Anyway, that aren’t earrings, but yes, that are piercing.

-Ah … Ah! Jason exclaims touching his chest when he understand that they are for his nipples. Do you mind if I go quickly in the bathroom to wear my gift.

-Do you think you could send me a photo? I’m not sure I could wait till we get home.

-Deal.”

They wanted to kiss rapidly but that seems like they can get enough of each other.

“I should go before we’re not PG anymore.” Jason said before leaving in a hurry

Roy sights looking dreamily at Jason while he walks away.

He thanks the waiter when he comes back with their orders, maybe not as much as he thanks the entity who brings Jason and him together. He really doesn’t understand how he gets so lucky.

His phone beeps and he sees the picture send by Jason.

Obviously, he was on the toilet. He holds his shirt so not only his chest was visibly but also his gorgeous abs. Roy is almost certain that Jason put down a little his jean too. Roy could swear he fell a little more in love because of the way the four little diamonds shine as much as the mischievous gaze he had. And not only, Jason’s grin promises an unforgettable night, but he also gently bites his lower lips exactly how Roy likes.

“Must be the first time I can’t wait to say good bye ;)” Jason wrote as commentary and Roy could only agree.

                                                      ~*~

Months later, despite how terrible their mission could have ended, Roy and Jason is together asleep in their bed. Neither of them want to moves and they both cry and moan like babies when a ring wakes them up.

“Jay. Roy groans. That your phone …

-Fuck. Who is the asshole calling me this earlier?

-It is two p.m. Master Jason. Alfred answer hearing the question Jason asks

-Sorry Alfie. But with all my respect we go to bed at six a.m.

-I prefer that it’s that. We were supposed to see each other today. Did you forget?

-Fuck. I totally did. Jason admits. Let me one hour and I come.

-No need to. I just wanted be sure that you were alright.

-But I want eat your delicious pie. One hour. I’m coming.

-Very well. See you soon.

-See you soon.

-You abandon me. Roy jokes half asleep

-For Alfred’s cooking, I will leave you without a hesitation.

-I should be angry but I could sell you too for his cooking. Bring me a piece.

-If I don’t eat all.”

Jason kisses Roy’s forehead before he fell asleep again. Jason goes take a quickly shower, drinks some coffee and wears clean clothes. Then he drives his motorcycle to the coffee shop he have to meet Alfred.

“Sorry to be late. Jason said sitting

-Next time send me a message, if you can’t come.

-I’m here, right? I could came.”

Alfred say nothing to that. He doesn’t need to, just his unimpressed look at Jason tells him enough.

“Promise, next time I will text you.

-Thank you.”

They order their drinks and talk a little about everything. How life is at the Manor, about books they had read or some TV show they had watch.

Suddenly, Alfred takes Jason’s wrist looking curiously at the watch Jason wears. Simple watch with some diamonds around the dial.

“Gift from Mister Roy? Alfred asks

-Yeah. Jason smiles. I don’t how but he always finds some flashy gifts that are in my taste anyway.

-It was for a particular reason?

-No. I don’t think so.

-Did he buy it to you the same day where you help Miss Stephanie with her homework?

-I don’t remember. Yeah, I think he did. Why? Fuck! Do you

think I forget an anniversary or something like that? Jason starts to panic

-I think you should ask to Mister Roy why he buys you this gifts.”

Jason doesn’t understand this little smile Alfred have on his face. One second before he sounded like he was upset, though.

But despite what Alfred like to think, Jason knows him as much as Alfred know him. So he doesn’t try to force Alfred to tell him what’s happening in his brain exactly.

                                                           ~*~

Jason wanted to listen to Alfred’s advice but life happen and he didn’t have time to talk about that with Roy.

Until one day where things go crazy.

Jason is cooking the dinner. Something simple and easy to do because he spend all the day with Selina, doing shopping and watching some telenovela, and he is tired.

Roy enters in their apartment, kisses him in the neck.

“Hi Jaybird. Roy said with a smile

-Hi yourself. Jason answers kissing him

-Hope it was you wanted. You were pretty specific this time.”

Jason frowns, don’t understand what Roy mean. He takes the large box Roy gives him. Curiously, with apprehension.

He almost choke when he sees what is inside.

“What’s the fuck, Roy? This is too much!” Jason can’t help himself and exclaims

There is a kind of Napoleon Diamond Necklace. But with more diamonds than the original who can cover easily Jason’s neck and shoulder. The worst is all the diamonds are real.

Jason can’t accept that. Even if it was a copy, it’s not Jason’s taste. But mostly it must cost a little fortune to Roy. How in hell did he thought it will be a good idea to offer him this?

“Really? I was afraid it would be not enough.

-Not … What the hell Roy? Why did you buy me this?

-Because you asking me. Roy answers perplexed

-Asking you? No!

-Well yes. I still has your text.

-My text?

-Jaybird, your dish burn.

-Shit!”

Jason give back the box to Roy so he can save what he’s cooking. Roy frowning sit in the kitchen, put the box on the table and search Jason’s message.

When the dish were save, Jason sit down next to Roy and look at his phone too.

“I didn’t send you a text. Jason confirm

-Look by yourself.” Roy retort showing the text

“Hi, my archer. Can you buy me the most fabulous Napoleon Diamond Necklace you can find? I will make sure it is worth it *winks*”

“What the …?”

It was his number. No doubt for that.

“I didn’t send you this text. Jason say again then he remember his conversation with Alfred. Wait. Did you receive a text like that every time you buy me a jewelry? Did you received a text tell you to buy me nipple piercing?

-Well no. Roy answer started by Jason’s hysteria. That’s the first time you were explicit about what you want.

-It wasn’t me!

-Ok. So who it was?

-Show me the date and hour you received this texts.”

Quickly, they realize that Tim send Roy a text for the cufflinks, Barbara for the piercings, Stephanie for the watch and Selina for the necklace. Every time they send to Roy a message telling something like Jason was feeling sad and diamonds could help him feel better and he will make sure to show to Roy how grateful he was.

“I’m going to kill them. Jason groans while Roy laugh

-Why? This is funny.

-No it’s not! I’m sure it’s because of Oliver’s stupid remark! How much money did you waste because of them?

-It’s not wasted. If I recall correctly you make it worthy I buy you this.

-Fuck! I’m really the trophy husband here. Jason groans embarrassed. I will give you back all the jewelries, so you can be refund.

-Why? No. Except for the necklace you like them, right?

-Yeah but I don’t like that you waste your money because of a stupid joke.

-It’s not a waste.

-Give back at least the necklace. How much did it cost you?

-Nope and it’s rude to ask how much a gift cost.

-Roy, I’m serious.

-Me too. Look, can I at least see you wearing it? Before you throw it in some deep closet.”

Jason suspiciously at Roy before he realizes.

“It’s make you horny that I’m your trophy husband, isn’t it?

-I’m weak man. Roy admits with a smile. It’s just … it’s been a while since you didn’t wear the nightie you buy for Valentine Day. Could be the occasion.

-I’m starting to think that you knew it was a joke.

-I swear I’m an innocent victim here. Doesn’t mean I should take an opportunity when I saw one.

-You’re the worst. Jason smiles amused

-It’s that a no?

-It’s that a yes. But I’m still killing them.

-Don’t be such killing joke, Jaybird. Roy kisses him passionately. Fuck them.

-I was thinking you will fuck me.

-Yeah that too.”

They laugh and make sure that this joke make at their expense become their best night.

Tomorrow, Jason will find a way to avenge Roy and his self-esteem.

#dc comics #jayroy #jason todd #roy harper #my fic

[sometimesiwrite]

Dump It Out

A scene for two—originally written as Man (M) and Woman (W) but could be any gender with some textual adjustments. I wrote this years ago as an exercise to challenge myself to write conflict (I’m very bad with conflict. Writing it, or engaging in it) and I’m pretty proud of what came out. Enjoy!

Content notes: Coarse language, arguing with ex, ex lives close by, alcohol, smoking, discussion of cunnilingus/inability to climax, brief reference to infidelity, the general angst of trying to stay on good terms post-relationship.

Scene1:

M and W. Apartment living room. A ticking clock is heard.

W: So.

M: So...

(Pause)

W: That’s it? “So”? That’s all you’re going to say to me?

M: I guess so.

W: ...Can I have my book, please?

M: You’ll have to be more specific, there were so many books.

W: Come on, don’t—

M: On the stairs, on the bedroom floor, in the kitchen, on top of the TV under the TV…

W: I forgot how petty you are…

M: In the bed, let’s not forget. Christ, I think you spent more time with those books than you actually spent with me. In bed.

W: Well, maybe if you had bothered to brush your teeth before you came to bed it would have been a different story.

M: And here I thought true love was supposed to defeat evil and transcend bad breath.

W: Well, the storybooks were wrong.

M: I don’t know, it depends which stories you read.

(Pause)

W: Can I please have my book back?

M: If you can find it.

W: What?

M: If you can find it, you can have it.

W: I thought you had it.

M: I do.

W: But you don’t know where it is?

M (lights a cigarette): No clue.

W: Come on, I know you have it.

M: Clearly not since you keep asking me for it.

W: Well, I don’t know where it is, though, do I?

(M shrugs)

W: Oh my God, you don’t have it. I swear if you tossed it—

M: I haven’t done anything with it since you lent it to me. Can you please stop rifling through my things? My things that I have in specific places for a reason.

W: Calm down, it’s just your obsessive compulsive disorder talking.

M: I’m not OCD, I’m tidy. There’s a difference. I like to keep all my books in one place.

W: You can push my buttons all you want, I’m just here for one thing.

M: You sure about that?

W: Why, did you hoard other things of mine that I don’t know about?

M: I know, to prevent you from turning my place upside down, we could look for it together.

W: Please for the love of God let’s not do this together.

M: Come on, it’ll be fun!

W: Uh-huh, just like the grocery shopping, and breakfast, and lunch breaks, and going out with friends, and going to the gym, and going to the dentist, and getting our hair cut, and going to bed. You’re right, how could I forget that every single thing in my life was a million times more fun when we did it together!

M: Can’t blame a guy for trying to foster a stronger connection.

W: You came with me to the gynaecologist!

M: It’s an intrusive process, I wanted to be supportive.

W: It’s private! You didn’t even ask if you could come with me, you just showed up.

M: I wanted to surprise you!

W: It was humiliating!

M: I was being a good partner.

W: No, you were feeding an obsession and it’s weird.

M: I forgot how hard you can pull away when you want to.

W: Yeah, because I like to do things on my own.

M: If by “things” you mean literally everything.

W: Can I just have my book, please?

M: It’s in the house.

W: But you have no idea where it is.

M: Oh my God, you’re so intuitive. It’s like you can read my mind. Whoa, get outa my head—

W: Fuck off.

M: I thought I had.

W: Yup. Almost. Now where’s my book?

M: Which one? The book you were fucking? I told you, if you can find it, you can have it. I’m not putting in anymore effort so you can cheat on me with half a tree.

W: This isn’t some game, just give me the book and I’ll get out of your precious space.

M: Mmmm such spacious space.

W: Damnit. Tell me where my book is.

(Silence)

W: Do you have any idea where it might be?

M: I think it’s... Okay, yeah,  sorry, I remember now… it’s definitely somewhere in the house

W: Well, are you going to help me look for it, or are you just going to sit there snarking into your cigarette while I go through your stuff longing for the day when your lungs finally collapse out of rebellion against your constant abuse and you slowly suffocate to death?

M: Wow.

W: Sorry.

M: That came out of left field.

W: Can I have my book back?

M: No.

W: Excuse me?

M: You don’t want it back.

W: Yes, I do.

M: Then buy a new copy. It’s not old, so it wasn’t a rare find. It’s barely flipped through, so you obviously didn’t use it that often (also, if you did, you wouldn’t have lent it to me in the first place).

W: That’s not the point.

M: Then what?

W: It’s my book and I want it back.

M: And you wanted to see me again.

W: Don’t be pathetic.

M: Oh, come on! If you really didn’t want to see me ever again for as long as I live — as you put it — you could have said, “forget it, I can live without that book” and never seen me again. This is classic you.

W: Excuse me? “Classic me?”

M: You want to talk about something but are afraid of being vulnerable and just saying, “Hey, honey, can we talk?” so you cook up some excuse to meaninglessly argue nothing until you can covertly segue into the thing you actually wanted to talk about in the first place.

W: For your information, even though it’s NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS, I have an audition next week, and I need one of the monologues from it.

M: So Google it! Go to the library! I mean, Jesus, if you want to see me, see me, but don’t bullshit around with an excuse. It’s impolite.

W: I have a bunch of notes in there from the last time I worked on it and it’s the only copy I have.

M: Oh.

W: Yeah.

M: I didn’t know that.

W: Clearly.

(Silence).

W: Could I bum a drag off that?

M: No, you cannot! I swear I only ever smoked half my own cigarettes. “Can I have a drag?/Sure babe, no problem” Then, five seconds later: “Can I have another drag?”

W: …Can I have a whole one?

M: Only if you keep it to yourself.

W: I’m confused on whether that was a yes or a no…

M: Go on, then, help yourself.

W: Thanks.

M: Probably yours anyway.

W lights a cigarette.

M: You still not inhaling?

W: You still drinking your whisky with mix?

M: Touché.

W: Thank you!

M: You always did have the best comebacks, babe. I’ll give you that.

W: You set ‘em up, I’ll take the shot.

M: Cheap shots.

W: Best kind there is.

M: Boy, you’re something else, you know that?

W: So you used to tell me.

M: I still mean it.

(Pause)

W: You’re not so bad yourself.

(Silence)

M: I’ll be back in a second.

M exits. W sits for three seconds. Stubs out cigarette. Rises. Leaves. M re-enters.

M: Well, well, well, look what I… found…

Lights fade to black

Scene 2 M and W. An apartment livingroom—different from, the same as, or similar to, the one previous. A ticking clock is heard.

A vigorous knock on the door. W rises, goes to the door, opens it. M pushes in.

W (facetiously): Hi, honey, nice to see you too, please, come on in, make yourself at home—get out of my apartment!

M: What the hell was that?!

W: What?

M: What do you mean “what”?

W: I mean, “what?” as in “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

M: Gee honey, where should I start. Maybe let’s start with you leaving my apartment without saying a single word.

W: You left first.

M: That’s an old card and you’ve already played it once.

W: Oh, come on. What’s the big deal?

M: The big deal is you don’t get to do that anymore. It’s common human courtesy to let someone know when you’re leaving their living space.

W: Why? Never seemed to bother you.

M: Oh my God, I’m not getting into that right now. It’s just something people do.

W: Like who?

M: EVERYONE.

W: Like I said, you left first. What did you expect.

M: I was out of town for five days. I came back; you moved across the hall.

W: No, you were gone for months. Sure, you were there but you weren’t there.

M: You know, I’ve always had trouble understanding you when you’re too straightforward. Could you be a little more vague for me?

W: Go ahead, snark it off. Avoid the actual topic by manufacturing confrontation that doesn’t need to be there.

M: Arguments are more fun than conversation.

W: Okay, fine, whatever! You win! Just try to keep your voice down.

M: Never bothered you before.

W: That’s because I was the one yelling.

M: Oh, what, so I’m not allowed to yell?!

W: No, not in my apartment.

M: Why should I give a fuck what I do or do not do in your apartment? You clearly don’t care what you do in mine!—Or who—Here, want a cigarette? Mind if I smoke?

W: I cannot believe you are being so childish about this one, meaningless—

M: —Mmmm the sweet smell of tar and rat poison—

W: —Minuscule lapse in social etiquette.

M: So you admit that it wasn’t normal.

W: Yes. Fine. Could you put that out, please? 

M: Then why did you do it? Why did you do it if it wasn’t normal?

W: Drop it.

M: No.

W: I wasn’t thinking clearly.

M: Not buying it. No one forgets to tell someone they’re leaving.

W: Wanna bet?

M: Stay on topic.

W: I thought I was.

M: Why?

W: I didn’t want to be there anymore.

M: And?

W: That’s it.

M: Nope.

W: Stop it.

M: You said you came to get your book.

W: Yeah.

M: You left without it.

W: So?!

M: So you couldn’t have wanted it that badly.

W: Maybe I changed my mind.

M: No. No, no, no, no, no, you wanted an excuse to see me.

W: God you’re pathetic.

M: Okay, yes. Yes I am, I’m pathetic. You didn’t want to see me AND you didn’t want your book. Se ya!

W: Let the door hit you in the ass on your way out.

M: It doesn’t close on its own.

W: Fuck you!

(Pause).

W opens the door without looking at M.

W: I wanted the book so I went over to get it; I started feeling weird and wanted to leave so I did. Now are you going to start acting like an adult and give me my book and maybe, just maybe, leave me alone?

M steps back into the entranceway.

M: See? What wasn’t so hard, was it? This is the one you wanted, right?

W: Yeah. Thanks.

M: Happy to help. Anyway, I’d better—

W: You want a beer?

M: It’s three o’clock in the afternoon.

W: Nevermind.

M: I didn’t say no.

W goes into kitchen, returns with beer for both.

M: Is there anything you want to say to me?

W: I don’t want to talk about things. Not right now, anyway, I’m too pissed off.

M: Why am I drinking a beer in your living room, then?

W: Because I don’t want it in my fridge.

M: And why’s that?

W: You bought it.

M: Then why didn’t you just throw it out? Pour it down the toilet?

W: Because I didn’t. Jesus, why does every little thing I do have to mean something?!

M: I’m just saying, why keep it if you don’t want it?

W: Listen. Stop it. Whatever it is that you’re doing, or hoping, or wanting, just stop it. Right now.

M: Tell me about work.

W: What?

M: You know, work? That thing you do to make money. I’m trying to make small talk, here, cut me some slack.

W: It’s shit.

M: Oh ya?

W: Yeah.

(Silence).

W: You know those little bottles of hot sauce they have on the tables there?

M: I always thought they were kinda cute. Made me feel like a giant.

W: Yeah, me too until I spent an entire shift refilling them and hand washing the caps.

M: Now, who wouldn’t love that.

W: Best part is, I went to take a shower that night when I got home and my bathroom still smells like cayenne pepper.

M: I thought you were going to find a new job somewhere better. What happened with that other place you applied to?

W: Apparently my tits aren’t big enough.

M: Your tits are perfect.

W: They told me I didn’t fit the “overall aesthetic standards”

M: Bullshit. And I should know, I’ve spent quality time with your overall aesthetic.

W: Knock it off.

M: I’m just saying, you’re a very attractive woman. I’m allowed to still think that.

W: Thank you… I hate this. It feels like I never get to be myself anymore, everything’s an audition for something.

M: Not everything is an audition, you know.

W: It’s easier said than done. Everything feels like a new role to play, like everybody needs something different from me.

M: You realize it’s not suppose to be that way with everyone, right?

W: What?

M: Well… Ah, I shouldn’t get into this now.

W: No, go on, say it.

M: When we were together I could never get you to follow… I could— never get you to, well, come with me.

W(offended): Well maybe if you bothered to focus on someone other than yourself—

M: No, no, no I tried everything. I don’t think you realize just how hard I tried to get you there.

W: Oh come on, it’s not like you never had any hangups yourself.

M: It’s biology, it happens sometimes—you know what, no, leave my dick out of this, he has nothing to do with it.

W: It’s not a person!

M: It may as well be, it feels just as confused and unsatisfied as I do with our current situation.

W: How?!

M: Do you have any idea how frustrating it is living across the hall from a woman you are still wildly attracted to despite the whirlwind of domestic dysfunction that follows in her wake? Every day, I go down to check the mail, and I can smell that you’ve just gone out. It’s like this cloud of you that hovers outside my door every time I go anywhere. Poof! There you are, and suddenly I’m having some Vietnam-style flashback and we’re in bed together and I’m stuck with my head between your legs and you’ve just got this vacant expression in your eyes and I’m trying to talk to you, trying to get some sort of response: more hands, less hands, faster, slower, a green light, a red light, anything. Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me? I’ve got months worth of Cosmo issues hidden under my bed. I’ve got seventeen tabs open on my computer about the complexities of the female orgasm and the importance of partner communication during oral sex (by the way, did you know that the Swiss have a completely different technique?). I now know more about the anatomy of female sex organs and hormone cycles than most med school graduates! If the police raided my apartment, I’d probably be put on some sort of registry!

W: I know how frustrated you were with the fact that I have trouble. And I knew you were trying hard because every single time, all I could feel was you wanting to get me off. It stopped being about us having fun and feeling good and just started being about how badly you needed me to have an orgasm so you could feel validated as a partner. And God help me, I tried to make it up to you, and I did a damn good job if I say do so myself.

M: Here’s a life tip for you: if you’re going to be with someone long enough for them to know your habits, don’t run lines when you’re trying to get him off.

W: That was one time—

M: And if you weren’t running lines, you were a completely different person. I would look into your eyes and see a stranger, you even felt like a stranger, it was weird.

W: It still worked, didn’t it? You got what you wanted, what’s the big deal?

M: Jesus, I wanted connection, I wanted for us to actually be together with each other. It was never about me just getting off to you—oh my God is that—What is wrong in your head that could ever make you think that that was what I wanted?

W: How much more connection do you need?! We spent every free second together. Every day. Every night. There I was, connecting with you.

M: You were always somewhere else, though. Somewhere in that book, in one of your monologues, in one of your audition rooms, with one of your directors… You were never just with me. There was always something or someone else in the room with us.

W: Well maybe I didn’t want to be the person who was with you.

(Pause)

M: You want to rethink the wording on that? Because that is one hell of a bomb to drop.

W: I don’t know.

M: You actually meant that.

W: I think so, yeah.

M stands

M: I’m going to leave now.

W: Okay.

M: Thanks for the beer.

W: You can take the rest, I don’t want it.

M: Dump it out.

W: Okay.

N: If you need to get anything else from my place, I’ll be at Tom’s for the next two days. I’ll leave the key in the mailbox.

W: I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.

M: Don’t wear any perfume if you go in.

W: Can you stay for a bit? We can talk this out.

M: No, we can’t. I need to be alone right now. I’ll see ya around.

(W remains seated. M exits) (A few moments of silence) (Fade to Black)

#scene #theatre #dialogue #creative writing #acting #argument #breakup #friendly exes #messy breakup #trying #this isn't working #you left first #couple fight #couple argument #one act play #one act #two actors #i didn't mean it #incompatability

[sugar-petals]

Trophy Boyfriend (m)

PAIRING: yoongi x ceo!reader

WORD COUNT: 37k 

SYNOPSIS: He’s accomplished. He’s sexy. He is the perfect subordinate. But something about your new secretary seems off. Yoongi wouldn’t be the first spy in your company.

GENRE: business au — smut | action 

WARNINGS: dom!reader, brat/painslut!yoongi, cunnilingus, bondage, riding, cockwarming, edging, vaginal sex (protected), thigh riding, slaps, anal (unprotected), fingering, mention of blood, no prep, name-calling, spanking, aftercare, scent kink, cbt, harassment, hurt & comfort 

A/N: welcome to this monster of a one shot. if you like e2l, grab a snack 😄requested by @.hopiiiie​!

You smack down the papers on your desk where they disperse. Fury. The file, albeit your favorite contender, is immaculate except one detail. 

It’s in the middle of the timeline where the letters appear larger than the surrounding ones, as if you put a magnifying glass on top of the hefty pile.

Yoongi worked at Lexcom four years ago.

With the top tier league. The luminaries. The impostors. Your greatest rivals.

He even listed them below, one by one, in the neatest of bullet points. Nothing could be more irritating. But the hiring contract form is already on your desk, begging for you to fill in the blanks and boxes with his name. You turn the CV upside down so you don’t have to see the tidy font anymore. To your dismay, even the reverse side of the paper has a detailed work history written on it. And a compilation of rather lofty awards.

You shove one of the other, much more slipshod applicant files on top of it and get up, rip the window open. You hope that the wind carries out all of the CVs with one gush. But it’s May. There’s no breeze at all. The door to your office slams into its dated angles when you leave the room. Even that sound, though always gratifying as of recently now that nobody is actually around, doesn’t make it any better.

The secretary room feels all too empty now. You pace around on the carpet, going through the details of the CV over and over again inside your head. What keeps on bothering you — the sheer audacity. Or was it, well, plain naïve? Impossible. Anybody at Lexcom and from Lexcom knew you’d stay away from them as much as possible. Even if the person had left work at their headquarters a relatively long time ago. Four years, within the pace of the current market, is a very long time, that’s what you own up to, but still: Yoongi was in direct contact with the elite team that so ruthlessly conducted the scam of the century. And now he applied to become your new assistant.

The carpet already sports traces where you had been walking in circles thinking about it. Hiring, how much you hate that nasty shit. There are twenty files that came in with the post from Monday to Wednesday, pre-selected with utmost care, but all of them straight-up bogus with the most improper of qualifications, and one that fits, one!

There’s no alternative. You lean on the secretary desk with both fists closed. Seokjin left it spotless and the drawers in remarkable order. That was back when you didn’t slam doors. It’s so lifeless in this room. You miss him.

After punching in a quick 5-number combination into your desk telephone, a high-pitched, cheery voice emerges at the other end of the line. It’s Park Jimin from HR.

“Can I help?”

“Hey Park. It’s about the applicant, Yoongi.”

“Oh! Yoongi, yes?”

“I’ve checked his curriculum again. I don’t know what Seokjin would even say about that. Need to know your take before I decide.”

“The curriculum, um. Well, I think— Worth the risk,” Jimin shortcuts, “qualifies as basically stellar”.

“Hm. What I thought.”

You already suspect why. Yoongi has a background in accounting, which was one of Jin’s very few shortcomings, but nevertheless, a crucial one. He always had to delegate some of it and couldn’t catch up either. As per the Golden Book, you do require at least five years of accounting experience for the position, and let Jimin know every now and then when new applicants call, especially with the current situation. It’s why you decided to pick Yoongi’s file as a favorite in the first place instead.

“You didn’t ask twice back when Seokjin applied. Why now?”

“I know. This is... a tougher decision. He’s excellent, that’s why.”

You can almost hear Jimin nod through the speaker.

“He even owns and writes for ‘Six Rules’. Never guessed who could be behind that.”

The infamous business blog that’s been making rounds. Jin bought and praised the book that was released under the same title probably two years ago, you don’t quite remember.

“Yeah.”

“You might as well say, Yoongi is not a secretary. He invented it.”

“That’s a stretch.”

“You should read the book. I have it, too. It’s like declining Celine Dion if she calls. His work at Lexcom is long over. Four years is quite a long time.”

“That I agree with.”

“The fact that he put Lexcom in the CV in the first place. Nothing else shows he has nothing to hide. That’s not a strategy of someone who wants to harm our company. Lexcom is sneaky. Yoongi isn’t. He has all of his cards on the table. Think about it.”

“Well, he can’t lie on his CV or leave it out, Park.”

“Jin would like him. That’s all I can say.”

“I’m not convinced. Check your email after lunch.”

“Read the book.”

“Oh well—”

“You’re missing Jin because he went by everything good that Yoongi wrote. Good meaning, everything.”

“I hope so. Later, cheers.”

The telephone beeps away until you put it down. The shelf next to Jin’s desk does have a couple books left in it. You already know that he doesn’t have to take them with him to memorize what’s inside. Or maybe it would have been too much of a hassle to bring home. You clear out a dozen empty folders and stack them on the desk so you can browse through the book titles without taking out each one of them. Keys to Management, Accounting 101, Advanced Grammar, Essential Steps To Successful Consulting, Basics of Civil Law, Copyright Law—

Six Rules: The Way of The Secretary. It’s not a job. It’s a lifestyle!

Written by Min Yoongi. Published by Lexcom Press. Seoul, 2016.

You shake your head in disbelief, toss the blue hardcover back and forth between your palms. Quite a lot of pages. The table of contents reveals the same neat structure from Yoongi’s CV, even the same font. He’s consistent. You decide to go back into your office and put the book on the fringe of your desk.

The twenty files in the center, almost impossibly scattered now, went through Jimin’s fingers last week for selection. Judging by his enthusiasm for Yoongi, you start to doubt that he handed you the nineteen other obviously bogus applications without bias or knowing full well which one would make the race according to your criteria.

The hiring contract looks even more tempting now. You turn around the top page of Yoongi’s curriculum again to dart your eyes across the first part of the work history for what feels like the 30th time today. A lot of management accounting here, auditing there. Time abroad in Switzerland, one and a half years. Maybe he is, indeed, the Celine Dion whose call you should by all means not decline.

The corridors are strangely silent when you clatter through them, headed to your office when the sun rises above the Han River. You hear from the social media department forming a decent queue at the coffee machine preparing their tea and macchiato that there’s been gossip, but they pull rather furtive and taut faces when you ask what that gossip was about.

At your desk, the first thing you do is check your email. Jimin’s upbeat replies from yesterday evening moved down a little, while a new message from Namjoon popped up. Your CCO since a year, yet already irreplaceable. It doesn’t have any content except a sequence of letters and numbers.

— CODE 19. #9828.

#9828 looks familiar. You gather Yoongi’s file, by now, the only one on your desk, and glance to the header where the same number is imprinted with italics. It’s the applicant cipher. And code 19, integral to the Golden Book, is universally known since the last incident, shortly before you took over the company from your mother.

Code 19 means threat of espionage.

You reply Namjoon a short confirmation right away and storm out the door. HR here you come. You knew something wasn’t right with Yoongi the second Jimin handed you the batch of files.

Jimin, ruffled hair but collar stiff, paces up and down on his rather maltreated office carpet whose halcyon days have long passed. The printer you lean on is currently busy spouting data sheets and stock results. Economy department sent a request, and Jimin has the only printer on the floor. The door is firmly closed. Your patience is running out but Jimin still goes onto his fifth tangent.

“Y/N. Code 19 is not a fact, it’s an assumption. It’s a possible threat. You were the one saying that when you instructed me to the Golden Book. Joon picked a up a rumor at a meeting, that’s about it. There are a lot of jealous people out there. They don’t want Yoongi to strengthen our business. They know he’d perform well here. As your backup.”

“I guess.”

“Don’t you check the news on your app? Lexcom has its eyes on Hoseok’s company. They won’t send us a spy. Just because you consider them a rival, doesn’t mean they think of you as one in return. Those days are gone. They think we’re out of the competition already. We’re way below. Not dangerous to their monopoly game. That’s what Lexcom thinks. Hoseok’s company is where the money is instead. The innovations. The right minds, the right people, the right symbols and slogans. It’s where Lexcom will attack. If they send a spy, if they send Yoongi for their gain, then he’d go there. Yongsang Digital is on the rise. Hoseok is a brilliant head. His softwares give solutions where nobody thought problems would be.”

“Park, you sound like you wanna work there. Our company doesn’t create artificial needs.”

The social media directors and other staff strut down the corridor and Jimin pauses until they reach the stairwell.

“It’s not the point. What I wanna say is. Y/N, you put your signature on the contract. The paperwork is done. You can’t fire him before he even shows up here. You said his book is great yourself!”

“The rumors. I’ll take them seriously. I trust Namjoon’s weary eye. He won’t mail me Code 19 without a solid reason. Yoongi is a real risk. I don’t care about Lexcom’s interest in Hoseok and his slogans.”

The chatter in the stairwell slowly ceases and Jimin no longer sounds like he’s short of whispering.

“It’s nothing of substance to pin down. Yoongi’s interview went well. He’s dapper, he’s smart, he can handle a stress situation. Every interviewee reported a good impression. Namjoon’s eye gets a little too weary when he’s busy elsewhere. You act like Yoongi is about to replace you or hangs outside your office window like Tom Cruise with binoculars, what on earth.”

“Impressions aren’t everything. Especially when it’s someone who’s been in the devil’s den.”

“Four years ago! Before the scam went down, and that wasn’t even in his department.”

“Four years ago. It was the adjacent department, he was involved for sure.”

The printer stops. Jimin takes out the papers and staples them.

“This is HR. I do this every day. You trust me as much as you trust Namjoon, do you?”

“If you spill too much praise for Yongsang Digital and read books by Lexcom Press, maybe not.”

“You read it, too!”

“Recommended by you. Listen, Yoongi arrives in one hour. Namjoon is not in office, I can’t call him. He’s in another external meeting, they have a presentation going on there.”

“If that’s not fate?”

“Fate isn’t what makes business good and safe. Yoongi is an excellent candidate. But I decided that we have to annul—”

Jimin’s phone rings only once. It’s the reception’s number popping up on the screen. After nodding twice, Jimin, past the printer, rushes out of the door smiling. He has the printed papers clamped under his arm. The front page has a sticky note on it. For Secretary M.Y. — Please report + double-check. You follow Jimin down the corridor fuming.

He’s already here. Fifty minutes early because he can. The hailed secretary genius from Lexcom. Fifty fucking minutes. Because he’s ‘dapper’, polished, handles stress well, and writes dastardly prodigouous books about lifestyle, not jobs. With all these trophies and the right type of experience. You already know Yoongi’s a big piece of shit.

Jimin’s back before you is almost taunting. Going down the steps from the center hallway seems to take forever. Perhaps it’s just the feeling in your gut, but even the new elevator is terrifyingly slow today. Fuck Orbit Electrics, all they can do is craft you a shiny bleeping steel box that looks good but won’t actually go up and down the way it should. It’s a disgrace, it runs on your goddamn software. You check the display panel where a red number glows. 6th floor. Jimin’s smile in the mirror becomes all the more annoying. He notices, and starts going through the papers humming a Celine Dion song. At least is smells good in here, some nice aftershave.

You distract yourself with the small reading session’s afterthoughts from yesterday. The book persuaded you too fast to tick the boxes and put down the signature. Maybe it was the adrenaline, the affect. Yoongi is passionate about business. Every page reads very much like it. But now, in a sober moment? Too much regret, at the wrong point in time. You would be glad to have Yoongi join the office if he had been a trusted employee so far in another department.

Heck, you’d even take him if he worked at Yongsang Digital before the company blew up. Jimin is right about Hoseok and his team, they do bring the innovation on the market. But Yoongi, effectually, is not from Yongsang Digital. A walk through the office this morning reminded you who would be the one and only person suitable for this job, still. How can you miss Jin so much?

3rd floor. Jimin not only hums, but also dances from foot to foot. Your eye rolls won’t faze him. He keeps on swaying. HR is one hell of a department. Their coffee is too strong there. Jin always had two cups of tea each morning. Herbal. You are glad that he, judging by the pictures on his feed a week ago, has found a little share of peace in life with his family. Gwangju is a nice city. He got hired at a consulting business, gave up on smoking.

Jin’s happiness was more important than this job. Not that he didn’t enjoy the office work, but Jihye wasn’t content in clouded Seoul after their marriage, as were the kids. Jin thought the same after a while of hearing complaints and mentioning it to you, which was probably a good sign. A joint family decision is much better than being at opposing ends. When you love each other, you feel each other. Much of that mentality, although not in a romantic way, made him the secretary he was. It’s where the certificates came from.

The farewell was on good terms because you knew about Jihye’s opinion. It’s was not because Jin followed the Six Rules, which, even after reading the book you could not reconstruct in hindsight. It was the honesty on both sides that made him the ideal assistant to you. His most important contributions are already engraved in the frames all around his office. Trophies, who cares. Jin got it all written down for him.

The staff from the relocation team got your personal order to let them hanging because Seokjin said he was moving on, he didn’t need the certificates anymore just like everything on the bookshelf. That his professional and platonic time took place with you was the only memory that counted and that he took with him. So the certificates still stayed next to the door to your office, behind the wall at the oaken desk. You walk past them every morning when you come into your office. Even today, and you looked at them for much longer than usual.

1st floor. Your absent-mined stare on Jimin’s hands doesn’t seem to bother him one bit. You think about how the certificates could either be a menace or reason for a good belly laugh to Yoongi. Even if, yes, his file reads like an unblemished success story. So far. The benefit of the doubt still rules. But that doesn’t mean you will cast aside all suspicions. The stocks are doing well, yet you can’t manage the loss of not having them stabilize throughout winter. 

A loss that would come about so easily if Code 19 hit the bullseye and Yoongi’s ties with Lexcom were never cut in the first place.

His CV certainly could make someone believe that he really did, since he’s been busy accounting and doing freelance jobs since then. It’s all in the timeline. It was all very unlike his work with software at Lexcom. But finding out how loyal Yoongi is even to his font, you can’t exclude the same for his former employer. You have to call Namjoon as soon as possible to verify things. Otherwise, instead of the certificates, Lexcom’s eyes dangle on the wall the second Yoongi moves in. Metaphorically speaking. Or quite literally. Surveillance software is the new market. You have to speak about the strongroom with Namjoon the second he sets foot in his office again.

“GROUND FLOOR,” the elevator voice announces.

“Ah, Front of House. Always a joy,” Jimin finishes his dance with a wink at his own reflection in the mirror. HR really does have the strongest coffee. Or the toners from Jimin’s printer puff out some weird fucking fumes. You’ll alert Taehyung that it needs maintenance.

Jimin stacks the papers against his knee twice to make them look less disheveled and greets two guys from the IT. Your eyes are elsewhere. There’s an up-tempo jazz tune coming from the street. The musicians, one with a trombone, another with a cello, the third with a guitar, are not something you’d see or hear from your office during the day. They tap their feet in perfect rhythm on the pavement opposite the the foyer glass facade where a turnstile spins and lets in both people and the melody.

Good, groovy music. It’s what you always liked. Your mother wanted SeoulTec to be at the heart of the city for that purpose, too. To feel the beat of the alleys. Jimin doesn’t really seem to bother, striding past the cafeteria where the pastries are all sold out today. Your eyes dart back to the entrance, musicians, and the street.

Even now, curious people are peering in to look at the silver statue located in the middle of the foyer. A giant and sleek crane, curved and sculpted almost entirely out of chrome. A symbol that decorated the hall for almost twenty years after a modern artist with a complicated name decided to design and build it under difficult circumstances, which in and of itself was symbolic for the company.

The interest in the passers-by, however, even if you see them almost every week when you come here, makes you smile. Maybe Front of House isn’t too bad, after all. Yoongi’s arrival is making you think about things you took for granted. Because everything inside of this building could be going down within the span of a day.

Behind the statue, some ludicrous ad standees and service desks stretch out row after row. A few steps away — the reception with a quirky pot plant next to it. A queue of roughly fifteen people ranges from one standee to the place where you see Taehyung sit at his computer, in his second-best suit with the little dots on the shirt underneath. It’s one of those days.

“Nice morning, T!” Jimin greets, making the people in the queue turn their heads after just randomly staring around looking rather impatient.

“Rowdy morning,” Taehyung cocks a brow from behind the reception table, typing while he speaks. “You’ve heard that Yoongi is here, right.”

You’re sneering.

“Apparently, he’s an, uh, ghost? Jimin looked like you said to him on the phone, ‘hey Park, come down, Mister Lexcom arrived with flying colors!’ What happened to the fifty minutes earlier promise?”

Taehyung bites his lower lip.

“Well, ah. He is not here. Um, using the normal entrance. I didn’t want to talk too much on the phone. It’s because—”

“Hmm?”

Taehyung isn’t normally that shy.

“Yoongi’s got a fancy car. He did come in through Front of House but decided to leave it in our subterranean before you both could come down. The elevators are slower today, don’t know why, beats me. Couldn’t really stop him.”

If gazes could stab, Taehyung would be impaled by yours now.

“A fancy car, you say? And you just gave him access to the subterranean. Where my car is.”

“He’s your secretary. I’m obliged to give him the access password. That’s in the Golden Book.”

“Anyways,” Jimin interrupts. “The queue is getting longer. T is busy. Come on, Yoongi can’t access the building again from the subterranean without a key card, the code only goes one way. Concierge, would you be so kind?”

“Here it is.”

He hands over a turquoise, rectangular chip. The number #9828 is stamped into the white name field in the middle.

Min Yoongi, SeoulTec. Executive Assistant. DOB 09-03-93.

You take it from Taehyung with an empty smile.

“Last time you gave out the password. Apart from that, by the way. Send someone to take care of Jimin’s printer later.”

“Okay, Ma’am. On the list.”

“So long, T!” Jimin waves. “We’ll meet the ghost now.”

Your smile becomes twice as empty, and the chip two times as heavy in your palm. Seokjin handed his key card in a few days ago, with Taehyung becoming a bit teary-eyed. It was so used, the turquoise had come off. He had deserved to carry it all day.

Jimin already heads to the elevator again and presses the -3 button, then puts in the password. You join him with a teeth-gritting scowl. Impossible to hide how much you despise Min Yoongi, the grandiose fuck. He could have parked outside and asked you about garage opportunities later and not change his mind the last minute to make you wait at the reception. This is Lexcom type of conduct, you can smell it before the elevator even hits the basement level.

“SUBTERRANEAN,” its electronic voice drones over your heads.

Jimin grins when the doors part and the scent of gasoline engulfs you.

The designated area is a small walk away. If he wasn’t with you right now, Jimin would prance along the way and sing, “yay, I meet the Six Rules guy!”

“Excited? This is the HR dream,” he spouts.

“The day you get that Code 19 is a serious order I will be. I signed a contract to make our stocks drop.”

Hiring Yoongi was a death sentence.

“Too late for that order.”

You knew what happened back then when it was first used. Tax fraud allegation. False, but reputation ruined. Lexcom used the SeoulTec blueprints they got their eyes on, just a bit altered here and there, instead and hit it big. The spy was never identified. The rage still anchors from your head to toe. It’s what made your mother resign. You feel it now, all the more, and Jimin’s salesman smile makes it worse.

“But ready to throw hands with my own Executive Assistant and drag him out through the entire foyer.”

Jimin rolls his eyes.

“The foyer.”

“To let everyone know the SeoulTec safety policy. We won’t go bankrupt again.”

“So, throwing hands for that, then.”

“If need be, my office stays Tom Cruise antics free.”

“Tom Cruise? Try shake hands. Gotta stay professional. Dragging doesn’t send a safety message either. Keep your boxing gloves in the ring. Whatever pent up stuff you got going on there... Yoongi is a good guy.”

Jimin pats the stapled papers with the sticky note resting in his left hand, turns a corner into the parking lot. Only a few steps and one heavy door left, past the large “private garage” arrow. Jimin puts in the password once again to make the door click open.

It’s when the smell of diesel gets the most intense that you see his silhouette.

Surprisingly petite. A fresh haircut, ruffled through quite deliberately with gel in it. A suit in royal blue, so dark and velvety, Taehyung would dissolve in a jealous fit. The collar crisp and stiff, more than Jimin’s. Slightly tapered shoulders but without pads. A suitcase in his right hand.

He bows deeper than you thought. But you know why. That’s Rule Number I in the book.

You stop, keep a good distance, bow down half as deep. He pushes back his hair into its original form as you do.

“Hey, Porsche.”

His voice is deep and throaty. You sigh — at least on the inside. He’s seen your car. Parked at the other end of the garage by itself. He knew exactly it was yours and nobody else’s. The game of chess is on.

“Hey, Benz.”

Right behind him. A glossy car, CLS, all black, epitome of class. You know that the Lexcom executives drive the same brand, some even Maybach models. CEO Jeon does. If you drive Benz, you are Lexcom. You are part of the luminaries.  

“Utmost pleasure. I’m sorry for the inconvenience with the reception.”

His deep eyes glower. Do you hear some nervosity in his voice?

Jimin reminds you of something important with a mere nod.

“Catch.”

You toss Yoongi the key card. A quick throw. Snap. His fist closes around it without a flinch to be seen from the rest of his body. One segment on his CV said: Interests — basketball.

“At your service. Thank you for accepting me.”

You twinkle. Maybe there is this tone of nervosity indeed. Now it’s your turn to remind Jimin.

“Park, would you be so kind? Pass him his first task.”

“Oh, yeah, the papers. Welcome to SeoulTec enterprises.”

The salesman smile grows wide. In return, Yoongi’s bony fingers store away the key card in his suit’s inlay, then reach out to the papers. He scrutinizes the first pages for a few seconds, then bows to you again.

“Perfect. That’s my job.”

You might as well pass out from gritting your teeth. He’s so inconceivably full of himself. That’s his true profession.

After Jimin and him exchanged some friendly verbiage for introduction, the sole noise between the three of you is Yoongi further rustling with his papers on the way up. You don’t know what else to say or think other than sizing him up. He’s just two feet away. Whatever gel he smeared into his hair to make it stick and shine, it’s the sign of a lot of time in the morning and haughtiness that surpasses your entire innovations department, and these are the guys who get all puffed up each time you drop by. Not even close, he’s worse. You have nothing against competitive intelligence between corporations, but he radiates it: Something far too dodgy and illegal. It’s the way his grey tie is fastened, his shirt is cuffed. Sabotage. Dirty cash bags. Drugs. Foreign prostitutes on corporate excursions. There has to be something weird about a guy that refers to their boss by her car’s brand and then goes on playing nice.

If you could drag him out through the foyer, you would not think twice at this point. But who are you to go about that just now without proof other than Namjoon’s judgement and your learned lessons from the resignment that broke your mother’s heart. Jimin is right to keep the boxing gloves away and be a reasonable leader, but how else can you assure that Yoongi hasn’t bribed Taehyung with two hundred thousand Won, knows how to hack, and installed a camera and microphone in his suitcase. Only when it’s too late and the damage is done can you do something about it. Even the actual fist fight you’d be more than down for wouldn’t harm the public image of SeoulTec as much as being betrayed and deceived again from your own ranks.

The elevator still smells like way too much petrol when the voice announces the 8th floor. But the only thing that concerns you is Yoongi’s aftershave. A distinct mix of orchid, sandalwood, something else, something more dangerous, luring. It’s driving you absolutely nuts, you wish you could wreck his. Jimin sends you a knowing glance. That is Rule Number II in the book at work you’re seeing indeed.

The two rugged IT guys from earlier set up an account and all the other paraphernalia for him, extra security at your demand, firewall. Jimin talks with Yoongi outside of the room. It’s unintelligible. When the IT leaves, Yoongi parts from Jimin bowing and props his suitcase onto the desk in a very non-Seokjin-like manner.

How dare he.

This desk is holy.

Big deals might not have been signed on it, that was on your desk. But here, SeoulTec’s future was still decided through the minutiae that Seokjin treasured and took care of. The way the suitcase just lands there— you can already tell, the right dose of respect is not flowing through Min Yoongi’s veins as expected. The way he throws himself into the chair, too.

“Thanks for the PC setup, seems very comprehensive. Got the password.”

“Good that you mention it. If there’s any concern, consult me first.”

“Will do. This office is nice.”

“Glad you like it. Utensils are in the left drawer.”

“Ah, for the papers. I won’t distract you further, I know you’re busy.”

“Just give me a shout, and there are cookies in my room.”

You can’t believe your just said that. Cookies. 

By the time you sit down, door open to the secretary’s office, the papers are distributed on his desk, the suitcase is still in its place. Yoongi himself you see study the bookshelf with eager eyes, seemingly content, then working through the papers one by one with a stern gaze. You at least pretend to preoccupy yourself with medium priority phone calls and drinking three cups of extra strong coffee in the hopes that you can still wink at yourself in the mirror by the end of this day Jimin-style. Two hours later and the papers are on your desk, everything summarized, everything corrected. It’s all so neat. Every other CEO would do a standing ovation. But you don’t.

Every detail from the report has been scrutinized. You can tell by the bright green and orange highlighter pen marks all over. He was beyond thorough. You didn’t just hire a spy. You hired the self-proclaimed secretary mastermind who does appear to live up to that name. Shooting yourself in the foot by having him work for you is an understatement.

But who are you not to bite your tongue now and utter the due praise. There’s nothing to hold against him.

“Good job. Check your mail in a minute.”

“Oh yes, thank you Ma’am!”

Yoongi only smiles and spins on his tapered heel to return to the desk.

“Take a cookie before you go. I have chocolate, cream, and plain.”

“Right!”

He now heads to the small tray that you set up at the window. It’s deliberate — the view stuns anybody who lingers for a couple seconds. But Yoongi’s eyes won’t break from you the second he got himself a cookie. He doesn’t seem to plan biting into it anytime soon either.

“You have a question, right?” he says instead. Any other boss would love a secretary knowing what’s on their mind. But you don’t.

“The Six Rules,” you cock your head. It doesn’t take much more to get him talking. 

“I knew you’re heard of it. Jimin said he recommended it to you.”

“When exactly did you come up with them?”

“Roughly four years ago, I think. It was a time when I learned a lot.”

“Four years, I see.”

What a fucking coincidence.

“Is there anything specific you want to know?”

Again, he knows your mind too well. He’s probably trained in planting cameras everywhere as much as he is trained to read your body language to a T.

“That’s it for now. Jimin was right to recommend it.”

“I’m honored. And this is cream, right?”

He holds up the cookie.

“Oh. Yes. My favorite as well. I’ll send the mail now.”

“Will reply in a minute!”

He leaves the office munching. A little ping from his PC lets you know that the data was transmitted. The amount of grudge you have sending it to him gladly wasn’t. But given how his eyes seem to read you like a book, Yoongi already knows how you hate giving him this task. It has to be done, it’s urgent. At least he didn’t mute the PC volume, that’s at least one good sign. So you hear what’s going on. Or maybe it’s done to distract you on purpose. He shouts into your room.

“Great, I’ll read it in a second!”

It really snaps you out of your train of thought: His voice is so raunchy. The distance from your desk to his is far enough to make him raise the tone this way, but close enough so you can enjoy the timbre. It almost makes you forget about Namjoon’s warning.

“Take it slow, it’s 50 pages. Nothing to read in one go. It’s the work of a couple years condensed, plus it’s still growing.”

“Splendid. Hold on.”

Just when you want to reply, he opens his suitcase. Without making it too obvious, you grab your phone, unlock the camera. Should he fuck around, you’ll have solid evidence. Something to rub into Jimin’s face as proof that Yoongi was in fact, the man you knew he would be. When the suitcase is wide open and he reaches inside, you are ready to press play. What comes into your sight, drawn out by his hand is—

A tissue. 

The wipes his hand, the corners of his mouth, stands up, and drops it inside the bin behind the door to the hallway all crumpled up. Going back to the desk, he shuts the suitcase and lifts it from the table. As accurate as his pen circles on the first papers you looked at, he brings it down at the left side of him where it remains closed and ignored once he resumes scrolling at the PC. Your camera’s press play button remains untouched. Instead, you’re taking up an incoming phone call.

From Yoongi’s desk, only clicking and scribbling noises reach across the room while you make calls with project managers whose words about revenue, discarding and filing ideas, the new stakeholders — go right past your left ear at the phone speaker. All you care about is that Yoongi is taking notes while he goes through the Golden Book PDF. He’s taking. Notes. And scrolling slow. Soaking up every word. The project managers asking about the databases only get a less-than-satisfactory “hm, hm” of yours at the other end of the line.

You hang up all too soon. This is of no use. Emails you click away into the low-priority field. Then, stand up to walk into the secretary room. If only you could give him another task. But reading the Golden Book is strictly required on the first day. Because the book itself says so. You hate your own policies. They’re shit.

“How are you advancing?”

“Page twenty, Ma’am. I’m quite impressed. There are some profound things in there.”

You peek at Yoongi’s notes. He’s written two pages in petite lettering already. That’s what happens when you make your own company’s number one codex spy-proof but hire one regardless.

“The Golden Book... only gives employees a rough outline, a contour if you will. It’s more superficial than you might think. It changes all the time, too.”

“It looks more than just a guideline,” he shakes his head. You can see him pat the embossing on the front cover. The golden crane. “I’ll definitely keep these things in mind. Everything sounds like it comes from experience. And, lessons learned. I wouldn’t understate that.”

That feeling again. Just an inch under your skin. You’re boiling. It’s hard to hide your clenching fists before his eyes behind your back. Not only do you hate your policies. But also having to go full sophistry mode with Tom Cruise disguised as Celine Dion in your office doing his job as excellently as you thought he’d do it.

“The purpose was to not repeat mistakes, but also, to weed out the employees who harm the business.”

“Have just written that point down. About the nondisclosures and such. You might know, I’m big on security. A lot of people want a piece of good work. I’ve written Rule Number III considering this back and forth.”

Without a doubt, you know you are about the worst CEO of whole Seoul when it comes to hiring. Even Orbit Electronics couldn’t fuck up like that.

“I see you’re a few steps ahead.”

“It’s the cookies, Ma’am.”

Yoongi, after having a cup of herbal tea, flops his jacket across the hat rack where Seokjin’s old light blue umbrella still dangles side to side. He checks whether his shirt is tucked in properly at the waist three times, then jots down something on his notepad. You step inside the secretary room with an orange folder in your hand.

“Ready to go?”  

“Looking forward to this.”

A quick glance into the bin and the certificates without being too obvious about it is harder to pull off than you think, but at least he leaves the room first. Who knows, he might have hidden a camera in the tissue. It would be unobtrusive enough.

“We start at innovations, last is maintenance and warehouse. The IT is a larger department, I’ll show you around tomorrow. It’s a bit overwhelming at first. You already know Taehyung, but we can still visit Front of House instead. I’ll introduce you to the service desks, they will call you here and there. Cafeteria should have new snacks by now, and green tea cake.”

“Yes, I like cake rolls. That’s an AB blood type thing to do.”

“Oh, AB is yours.”

It’s a bit of an outdated practice. And superstitious. But still, a custom. You’ve been wondering about his blood group since Taehyung handed over his key card.

“Let me guess yours. B, perhaps?”

“It’s zero.”

“Fitting of a chief executive. You might prefer rice cake, then.”

“I do. The ones with strawberries and chocolate on the inside.”

Yoongi closes the door behind you, then writes something down below the underlined rubric ‘Rule Number IV’. You don’t want to say anything about it. Now he even takes notes about your habits.

There’s loud chatter in the staircase now.

“Okay, so, innovations department is first. Curious. Quite lively around here.”

From the group of staff entering the corridor, a lady in a red suit and black wavy hair separates into your direction. Her smile is brighter than ever, particularly when she sees Yoongi looking all professional with his notepad and the most creaseless shirt in the entire company.

“Hey sweethearts! The new secretary?”

She blinks, earning your nod.

“Yes, just joined us.”

“Min Yoongi,” he retorts. “And you are?”

The lady’s eye smile lingers.

“Kim Hyuna, Development.”

“Oh, that’s where we’re headed.”

“Great, just come along in a minute! Whole team could use someone handsome to look at. Y/N, the file?”

“Yes, the new blueprints,” you hand over the orange folder, brow knit. Hyuna browses through the pages with her usual sound effects. Yoongi takes notes.

“Oh, this pretty design. Mh, an algorithm. Okay, okay. Ah. And this is the script we need. Wow, top secret, even! Look at this, so brilliant,” she turns the page to Yoongi now, then looks at you. “Hey, Y/N, you don’t seem alright, what’s wrong?”

Your eyes and ears might as well implode. Jimin was right with your bad temper. But it’s not like everyone in this building would give you a solid reason for it. A rice cake doesn’t sound so bad right now.

“Read it later, Hyuna,” you tip the cover of the orange folder over until it closes before her eyes. “I just want to show Yoongi around in the corridors and get to know each other. But I think we should start with the cafet—”

“Come on, you two lovebirds,” Hyuna flounces down the hallway now, orange folder resting laxly on her left forearm crossed before her chest. “Probably a good thing Jin went to Gwangju.”

The words are like a slap in the face. You can already feel your heart beat five times as fast.

Yoongi looks up from his notes to look at you.

“Jin?”

“My... former secretary.”

On top of a rice cake, you probably need to refresh your deodorant if this goes on. Hyuna opens the door to the development office with a cackle.

“Was off limits for her, frustrated the entire department, but you don’t have a wedding ring, do ya? No offense, you look good.”  

Yoongi shakes his head.

“I’m not, not married, uh—”

“I already love this,” Hyuna says, then shouts into the office where about ten busy staff members type and pin things to the wall where sketches and algorithms are drawn all over the place. “Look at that, she finally got herself a boy toy, hah! About time!”

Applause from all corners of the room.

Maybe taking him on a tour through the building to buy time backfired not just once, but two times.

Yoongi has to leave earlier. The fifty minutes he arrived before the actual morning appointment, minus ten or fifteen that you spent in the subterranean, pay off now. He glances at Jin’s wall certificates a couple of times while packing his briefcase. His suit is more clean and well-fitted than ever. Yoongi tosses the wrapping into the bin and picks up his jacket again. He looks at the umbrella, then back to your office, suit case in his right hand and notepad safely stored inside.

“Great time working with you,” he says.

“You know what you’re doing.”

“Always part with good words,” Yoongi bows. “And, don’t work for too long.” You realize that he just quoted page 50 from the Golden Book, hoping he doesn’t notice your desperate want to stress-eat all the remaining cream cookies. “That complements what I wrote in Rule Number V.”

“Our books might not be so different, after all.”

“We enjoy the same cookies. No surprise to me.”

A charismatic, winning smile follows. One knowledgeable about the accolades listed in the front pages of the Six Rules webpage. One knowledgeable that a Mercedes waits for him. One knowledgeable of how insufferable you find him, but can’t do anything, just anything, about that because he’s secured himself that secretary room like a tick on a patch of skin. And you can’t scratch him off without risking parts of him getting stuck in this enterprise even deeper.

He turns toward the door after a 90° bow. More a butler than secretary, you think, uttering a mumbled goodbye formulaic and as meaningful as a piece of toast. The key card bleeps.

“See you then.”

So casual. And he’s out the door.

A fourth cup of coffee is deeply needed now. Even if your hands are jittery. Think, think back to how this all started. Your brain is absolutely blank. What holds you back from firing him right on the spot?

What damage control task Yoongi gets tomorrow is certainly not dependent on the printer in Jimin’s office that gets important assignments from any other department on the hallway. And not on Kim Hyuna’s orange file. Nor Kim Taehyung. Generally speaking — after knowing Jimin’s recent canticle about every other enterprise in town except SeoulTec, you plan to thwart his undertakings on top of Yoongi’s, drastically so. His dedication is elsewhere. Yes, he caused this. The nineteen bogus files had an ulterior motive and weren’t selected according to the guidelines at all. Jimin stepped on all principles of fairness, he probably threw away the other good applications right away. Elsewhere he must go. Yongsang Digital could need an HR manager. Not now. Yoongi is first.

Neither Namjoon’s email nor phone react. You go to HR again where Jimin, staying late as usual while there’s virtually no one else on the corridor, says he has word he returns in two days. The journey is quite long as is the presentation he’s at. Orbit Five enterprises in Daegu where a new hardware prototype model had been launched. Namjoon gets busy with some press releases next week, but this launch is more important, he has to show attendance, presence. Until then, Yoongi can’t be fired on a solid basis for practically any accusation. But Jimin knows that you came for another question. He coaxes it out of you by imitating the faces you were trying not to pull in the elevator coming back from the subterranean after first meeting Yoongi.

“Oh, Mister Lexcom, such scent!”

“I do have a question on that...”

“Such! Scent!”

He’s caught up in the impression. Talk about professional. You want to deck Yoongi in the face so he flies out the building on the legal basis of tax fraud, but here your HR manager has his fun ridiculing you. Perhaps, truly, there’s nobody ‘professional’ except the cafeteria guys who sell more cakes and snacks than even Taehyung on a bad day can eat.

“Now, really. What’s in his aftershave?”

“Orchid, sandalwood, spice, duh. You dig that, grump? You’re acting weird.”

You’re already on your way out.

“Was nice talking, Park, good to see you.”

“Might be a bottle blonde but I still know the gentleman’s essentials.”

“It’s late, time to sign out,” you shout going down the corridor. Jimin shouts right back.

“Calm your anger issues until tomorrow and just fuck him!”

Spice it is. The third ingredient. What spice exactly? You should have asked. Let’s see if he wears that tomorrow. The aftershave seems to follow you everywhere — even dropping to the subterranean on the elevator again, where you check your emails on the phone. The field where Namjoon’s messages always turn up is still empty.

Instead, a new flagged mail is at the top of the feed. Kim Eonjin, CMO. Here in marketing since 2013, the only person you trusted to fast forward the Code 19 alert to. She writes she advises care for “the matter” and to remember the last meeting you had. Where you got to know the market fluctuates too much to tell, that Yongsang Digital can make the big decisions currently, and not SeoulTec. But a crucial detail and Lexcom could outdo all five competing enterprises in the field with a new software launch. Better than Orbit Five’s, no matter how enthusiastic Namjoon was to see it, which truly meant something — usually. That alone would be all fair and just. But what if that crucial detail came from your office, Yoongi’s keen ears to be precise.

The email attachment has new contents for the blueprint in it, less significant ones, but just about a hundred pages worth of packed information and sketches. Those you make a mental mark to send to the development office. Eonjin is clever. Really clever. She knows that Hyuna works best when there’s a lot to do. Otherwise, she does things like spontaneously proclaiming a dinner date on Friday for Yoongi and you earlier. During lunch break at the cafeteria. Even if she knew that you’d roll your eyes at that and go eat elsewhere in town at Sunmi’s food stall, dragging Yoongi with you knowing that otherwise, the whole IT department seated at the other cafeteria table would deliver him whatever codes in jest. Because they can’t shut up either. Which further prompted Hyuna to announce that you might actually be dating already. Who treats their secretary to Sunmi’s sandwiches on the first day, hah, you lovebirds!

While in reality, Yoongi got an important text and had to drive around the block for a private matter at a place he said was in Hannam. In the meantime, you ranted and cried your eyes out to a strangely customer-less Sunmi for 30 minutes straight, with the rather juicy tomato sandwich she made you almost ruining your suit. If there’s no queue at Sunmi’s, Namjoon is out of office, and Taehyung gives out passwords because he can, a day is truly hell. Except this one flagged email on top of your feed. The elevator is beeping again.

“SUBTERRANEAN.”

You reply an “OK” to Eonjin feeling the need to develop a safety plan with Namjoon. Who knows, the IT department might be a bunch of arrogant pricks, but their work is hard to underestimate and so essential to keep the corporation out of getting into the red. Lexcom is unpredictable, so is Min Yoongi, and you already know he wants to get involved under the guise of being such a secretary mastermind. Maybe it’s a good move to have the enemy up close in the other room. One mistake from Yoongi and you have compelling evidence, Hyuna’s antics aside. You will finally understand why Lexcom did what they did. You’ll get into his head and find out. You close the email inbox, tuck away your phone, and step into the cloud of fuel again.

Where the Mercedes stood after Yoongi’s arrival is now a gap that you do end up staring into for three minutes instead of heading to your own car. You hate realizing how you think about these things so much.

Finally. The paper box with red felt marker on the top lid has been making your mouth water all day. Fried potato starch noodles that Sunmi prepared in a matter of three minutes. You push the container into the microwave where they sizzle and permeate the apartment with a flavor of sesame and soy sauce, then practically fall into in the armchair in your living room. Christie S. Kwon keeps on looking at you strange, but gives off a satisfied meow once you pat and scrub her head multiple times, the neck, too. The cat makes herself at home in the kitchen once content, watching the moon rise at the skyline. She dozes off in a matter of two minutes.  

On your lap now rests Six Rules. Already tossed and turned more than Jin could have possibly read it throughout his entire career at SeoulTec.

Again, you start with the introduction text. All sentences as correct as Yoongi’s way of bowing, and his collar. He must be good at ironing. You read through the table in the middle of the page once more, each rule one by one, then go to the chapters where each individual rule is elaborated and exemplified. Chapter six in particular makes you ignore the blip of the microwave where Sunmi’s noodles steam the front window from the inside, making Christie S. Kwon purr in her sleep.

Once you did fetch them from the microwave, they’re already lukewarm. The book is closed, balancing itself on the armrest of the chair while you provide the searchbar on Yoongi’s website with some fodder.

#taxes #lexcom #rule VI #yongsang digital #orbit five #about me #stock market #ceo #notes #basketball #blood types

Much like Christie keeps on mewling in her sleep because the noodles still smell that tasty, you’re not running out of tags any time soon. How to get into his brain if not this way. You memorize everything about the website, and not just the text. The layout, the images, the filing system, the email addresses and contacts, too. If you want to get into his head, you do it properly even if it’s a lot of work. If Yoongi can take notes, so can you.

Hyuna gets her hundred pages tomorrow. Less fuel for her boredom. You, however, will not rest until you regain yours. Min Yoongi, executive assistant, is already making too many waves.

When the noodle bowl is empty and the moon has almost reached its zenith, you upload a final user picture of a typical and inconspicuous Incheon sunrise holiday shot and create a new email address that you enter in the form at the bottom of the page.

Contact: [email protected].

Subscribe to Six Rules Club and get access to unique information!

You click the blue subscribe button.

Taehyung comes along carrying three pastries in a plastic bag and a rucksack. You’re not the only one trying to survive the schedule.

“Not running out today!”

He touts, passing over a flyer after you held the elevator door open for him.

“Which floor?” you ask.

“On my way to the restrooms, five. Need a large stall.”

“Changing suits, huh?”

You point at the rucksack. Taehyung nods.

“New interns are coming, Jimin will be there, too. Need my A-Game.”

He might mess around with passwords, but hard work Taehyung does not shy away from.

“That’s good, and he’s getting busy. But what about this?”

“Take a look, just in.”

The flyer showcases Orbit Five’s new hardware at a glance, all nice in bright colors with detailed descriptions. Taehyung says it was in his lockbox this morning. Someone got it from Namjoon, and someone passed it on to him, and now he passes it on to you. What a giant hassle. It’s about time Namjoon returns to cut the chain of command short. The elevator almost gets to floor five that Taehyung, already fiddling with the rucksack to get his grey suit out, remembers something.

“By the way. Yoongi’s an early bird,” he laughs. “Seen the Mercedes park on the subterranean CCTV like fourty minutes ago.”

“I know, just walked right past it.”

“He’s different, isn’t he.”

“Very much so.”

The elevator doors part, revealing the ‘restrooms’ sign on the opposite wall. Taehyung tips his invisible hat to you.

“See you later ma’am, gotta stun the entourage with my suit.”

“Good luck,” you maintain, but Taehyung already speeds to the right. “Tell Jimin to take care of the interns for me.”

His desk is empty, but the noise from the end of the corridor is all too treacherous. You find Yoongi cramped into Hyuna’s office, surrounded by the IT guys, female interns from the marketing department, and the whole Development team. They sat him down on a desk between a scanner and laminating machine. Even if you thought the coffee from yesterday didn’t really do much, your blood pressure goes straight through the roof of SeoulTec in this very moment.

“Hyuna, everybody, what on earth!”

Yoongi looks rather apologetic, too caught in the middle. He’s in a silky blue suit today.

The marketing interns and IT guys chirp into your ears from all sides.

“Jimin told us that he’s the Min Yoongi!”

“Look at how he’s dressed!”

“You’re too good at hiring.”

You make your way past the mob to the laminating machine trying very hard to keep a straight face.

“Doubt it.”

Hyuna tugs at Yoongi’s tie as a brief retort.

“Really? You got us a rockstar secretary, hah. Need any condoms?”

You pull Yoongi from the desk and guide him toward the door under the jeers of the team.

“No thanks. Yoongi, lock the door when I’m not in the office yet and you arrive early. Lock the door... in general.”

Hyuna yells out loud.

“Ohh! Lock the door, Min Yoongi! Now she got a reason to use her own condoms!”

Thunderous groans and applause. The entire room is laughs. You strike a serious tone.

“What did I write about sexual harassment in the Golden Book.”

“Says the exec who takes her boy toy to Sunmi’s!”

“Do you even understand what sexual harassme—”

Hyuna clicks her tongue while you still speak.

“Oh shut up. Jimin even said you read Yoongi’s book and liked it a lotty dotty lot, hah.”

More laughter.

It’s like a police interrogation. Whatever you say will be used against you. Whoever has control over this enterprise, the CEO in supposed charge it surely is not.

Yoongi looks a little flustered and helpless when you shove him out into the corridor, past the interns who pat his back and blow him kisses.

Too bad you can’t fire every single person in this company. At least they kept Yoongi from being all by himself around your office. Hyuna’s everlasting chaotic nature might not be so bad, after all. But still, you see Yoongi scratch his head seemingly confounded.

“You okay?”

“I mean, I met the employee of the month. And it’s a lively place.”

Ever so diplomatic. You are the one to lock the door with your key card before dropping a pack of old business cards on Yoongi’s desk. That’ll preoccupy him with the contacts archive to fill in.

Sunmi rocks her Doc Martens against the counter, already looking as angry as you do. The pans, pots, and two grills of the stall are turned off except the deep fryer that spins around some fries. Children play in the park, but nobody seems to bother with the generous offer of a couple thousand Won for Japchae, chalked onto a small board by the side of the road with an arrow below, pointing toward the stall.

“We served him everything on a silver plate,” you stir your ramen when Sunmi hands it to you, then add a few spritzes of soy sauce. “Blueprints, codes, prototypes, and a reason to give us bad press just because Hyuna thinks I should fuck him. I’m scared to read tomorrow’s newspaper.”

“Oh fuck, man. You get an extra sandwich to stock up for the afternoon. With extra radish.”

“Sunmi, I pay. Your customers, recently...”

“The queue will come back, don’t worry.”

“I can send you some hungry people from our cafeteria. There are plenty.”

“That’s where they went, aye!” Sunmi giggles into her apron to hide her smile. She doesn’t like her crooked front tooth.

“They’ll come back to you once Seoul Daily sends us reporters asking about a sex scandal. Caused by the damn employee of the month.”

“Ah, Hyuna. All because the fucker Yoongi wrote that book and Jimin fell in love with it.”

“Yeah. That’s how I got those nineteen shit CVs. Jimin might as well have given me just that one application and said ‘hey I want this one just take him’. Like, no illusion of choice, you know.”

“That sucks. What did Yoongi write in his cover letter again?”

“Kind of, everything I wanted to hear. Good crisis management, written communication—”

“No, not that. What did he say about his real motivation to do the job, why he applied?”

“He just said he wanted to be of good service. Something super cheesy.”

“Sounds honorable given that Lexcom might have sent him.”

“I know, yeah.”

“So far your employees sound worse than he actually is. And I don’t get the feeling that he hides stuff. Except the Hannam thing.”

“He looked a bit distressed when he came back from that yesterday.”

“Oh really?”

“But not for too long.”

“Yeah, you told me, he bounced back from this rock star thing as well.”

“Hannam is different, though. He had to really hurry to get there and didn’t want to give any details. Just, none.”

“Really wanna know what goes down there. You know what I’m thinking?”

“Sunmi... he’s the spy, not us. We got into enough trouble already. It’s all exposed. We are the ones embarrassing ourselves. He doesn’t even have to move one finger. At this point, we can’t provoke it anymore.”

“We’re not spies when it’s good ole Sunmi driving around randomly to deliver some glazed chicken and rice, you know.”

“I know that you navigate Seoul very well.”

“And?”

“That makes me worry because you’ll do it.”

“Nothing easier than that, nobody will know I follow him except you.”

“Murphy’s Law ahead.”

“Murphy’s what?”

“Everything that can go wrong will go wrong. Happened in the last two days all over the place.”

“Fuck that law. We go by the Golden Book. And nowhere does it say in there that the sandwich lady can check up on what the secretary does in Hannam to come back weird like that.”

“The Golden Book has Code 20 listed. For stalking. I can’t break my own law there.”

“Code 19, 20, whatever. You said the codex is just in the way since he started and he’s using it against you already.”

“Doesn’t mean I’ll completely disregard it. It’s made from experience. And stalking isn’t cool.”

“But you went through his webpage...”

“Like a normal person who’s interested. I still went by the Golden Book.”

“This situation doesn’t compare. Yoongi’s a very particular case. He needs new rules. And new rules we only get by new trial and error.”

“Sunmi, Hannam is taboo for you. Who knows where he really goes. It could be dangerous. Or think about it, he might not go there again tomorrow.”

“That’s why we should go now!”

“I’d rather have the extra sandwich. Sans mayo.”

“Y/N, you never take any risks! Such a bore!”

“When I take risks and don’t think twice, you know what happens. My signature on a contract with Lexcom’s eyes and ears embodied.”

Sunmi points at you with a ladle from the grill and her most mischievous of grins.

“Hey, at least they come with a silk suit on.”

“That’s true. But a stack of dynamite won’t turn any less dangerous with silver wrapping and a greeting card.”

“Oh man, loosen up. Hyuna, she isn’t very far from the truth. You’re kinda frustrated.”

“But I don’t take Yoongi as my punching bag for that. Even if he wasn’t affiliated with Lexcom.”

“Are you so sure?”

“I’m very sure.”

“Don’t pretend you never wanted to go out with Seokjin. Come on! And who said she wanted to throw hands the other day, punching bag much! Frustration, but denial as a cherry on top, huh.”

The deep fryer turns off. You get out your car keys and zip your jacket tight at the neck. A deep sigh.

“Sunmi, one last question. Should I hire you?”

“Sorry, what?”

“You do start to sound like the people in Hyuna’s office.”

The office door is locked. You pull out your key card, swipe, then enter. Yoongi gives you a sweet smile from his desk, although again, it seems like something has ruffled his feathers.

“About 40% done with the cards,” he types, a few double clicks follow.

“Is that a secretary ethics thing to always arrive early?”

“I mean,” he lets go of the mouse now. “You read the book, right.”

Sure you did. But the pages make your head spin.

“Yeah.”

“It’s courteous, I think. Letting someone wait is the worst thing you could do. And even when your superiors are still busy when you come around, a secretary, by default should be invisible.”

Sort of like Tom Cruise indeed.

“Yoongi, what I mean is that you can enjoy your break. I’ll give you coupons for the green tea cakes if you like, Jimin always hands them to me.”

“I’m really not used to this,” he blinks. “But if that’s your wish I will always enter five minutes after you come back from break.”

“Extra mile, I got that.”

“Extra mile. And thank you for the offer.”

You cram around in the drawers of your desk, then get out five coupons that had amassed over the last few months. Jimin doesn’t like green tea rolls and figures you do. Somehow you are glad that he didn’t get the idea that Taehyung could have a better use for them. Because now, you can get Tom Cruise to sit in the cafeteria.

“The cards in the archive can wait. Take one, make yourself comfortable in the foyer,” you hand him the little vouchers with a silver crane printed in every bottom right edge.

“You mean, I can prolong the break?”

“Of course. I have a meeting on floor two now anyways, won’t be good company.” You already usher him toward the door. “Greet Taehyung and Jimin if you see them walking around with the new interns. You can talk to them if you like.”

His aftershave starts messing with your head when the elevator goes down. You step out into the second floor headed to Eonjin’s office. Yoongi does an awkward tiny wave with the coupon in his hand when the doors close and the elevator drops to the ground floor.

Eonjin practically pulls you into her tiny, dim lit room after you knock.

“Y/N! Is #9828 around?”

She starts tugging at your suit from all sides.

“No, he’s— Hey, what are you doing!”

“Bugging devices,” she mouths, without actually speaking it out loud. She pats around, you turn by 360° until she turns the light up to full brightness. “Seems ok. Your cell phone is also in your office, right?”

You nod.

“Thank you for the hundred blueprints, lifesaver,” you sit down on the sofa opposite Eonjin’s messy desk, located underneath a giant infographic about the 4 Ps of marketing on the wall. Product, price, place, promotion.

“Hyuna will leave you alone when Namjoon returns,” Eonjin fiddles with a shelf now. All orange files. “And Yoongi’s foul play has an end. What’s he doing now?”

You shift back and forth in the sofa’s middle pit where a lot of decisions about SeoulTec had been pondered through the years.

“Triple threat. I sent him down to Front of House for cake, interns, and chatty Taehyung.”

“He’ll be preoccupied.”

“Backfired the last few times I tried this. At least he’s not in the office. He’s always there early.”

“Really, check your devices. Could be any type of sabotage. Smart phone in particular, it’s portable. Did he behave suspiciously so far? Saw him enter your office yesterday in passing, but I didn’t see much more.”

“He’s kind of overly formal and odd I guess. Increasingly so. He says things about being invisible and whatnot. And he drives to Hannam during lunch break but won’t say why, and comes back exhausted. All the work he does is super pedantic. He keeps taking notes about the most trivial stuff. It’s creepy. His website has a lot of talk about Switzerland and taxes on it. I signed up there.”

“What!”

“With a fake profile and blocked IP, and I didn’t do much on there. I just looked at tags and some entries that he wrote when he first made the website.”

“Was there something about Lexcom?”

“Nothing.”

“Be careful subscribing to that site, I’m telling you.”

“I’m not doing anything extraneous. And Yoongi isn’t too active on there.”

“He’s been marketing the shit out of that book, didn’t he?”

“So successfully that everyone in here has read it by the end of May.”

“Genius secretary you say.”

“Yes, that’s his moniker.”

“What a hot air balloon. Sucks that Namjoon won’t reply, I just wonder what the hell is going on in Daegu. I mean they launch the latest hardware idea and he can’t even get proper wifi? Even his private number seems perpetually blocked!”

“If he’s somewhere strapped to a chair at Hannam and Yoongi’s henchmen put a gun to his head...”

“You think he’d resort to such a method?”

“Wouldn’t exclude it. Yoongi’s politeness schtick doesn’t mean anything. Did you check Namjoon’s social media activity already?”

“Yeah. He didn’t post anything recently.”

“Then that’s more than suspicious. A Communications Officer without any tweets?”

“Yeah, we gotta do something.”

Sunmi’s ash grey Honda sounds like a smoke-burping dragon going down Hannam Bridge. The sky is clear. You’ve insisted that the Celine Dion playlist starts to get annoying at least three times yelling from the backseat, but Sunmi keeps on shaking her head and turns up the volume a bit more each time.

“It’ll make us look and sound casual. We’re just delivering some chicken, remember. Bitch, this is the Sunmi express!”

“Oh gosh, just stop swearing like that,” Eonjin complains from the passenger seat, still hiding behind a rather crease-laden map that was likely considered recent back in 1982. “Y/N, how the fuck did you two even meet?”

“You just swore yourself!” Sunmi laughs and stomps on the accelerator. Eonjin looks indignant.

“No, really!”

“I don’t know, even CEOs get an empty stomach?” you shrug, adjusting your shades and the extra large hoodie Eonjin gave you before departing from her office. The huge box of chicken resting across your thighs is way too hot to handle. You already hate this.

Sunmi keeps tapping her fingers on the steering wheel to the intonation of Celine Dion’s dramatic falsetto blaring from the speakers, backed up by heavy percussions.

“Y/N likes very spicy sandwiches. And nobody does 'em like I do in Seoul. Even her cat gets my food sometimes. Special edition!”

Eonjin buries her face in the Itaewon district on the map.

“Ah, I see, uh. Question answered.”

Celine Dion hits a perfect high note when the Honda exits the bridge. The cafeteria with Taehyung, Jimin, Hyuna, the chatty interns, and a couple greasy IT guys at full throttle about their god complex at the neighboring table is now but a distant, yet much-cherished dream.

The license plate of Yoongi's black CLS before you vanishes on the left behind the first block of toplofty skyscrapers when Eonjin pulls out a bag of crisps for 128₩ from her jacket. You can’t believe your own eyes.

“What are you doing!”

“Can’t use my 4 Ps of Marketing here. We’re out of office. Sunmi is right.”

“Right about what?”

“Oh, well.”

The bag pops open while Sunmi already twirls the steering wheel to the left, causing an abrupt turn. You hold on tight to the box of chicken while your seat belt does the rest until the chassis balances and Yoongi’s sleek Mercedes shifts into sight again on the main street. You sigh, push the shades further up your nose bridge. The things you do for Namjoon.

Even now, the Honda continues to burp and rattle to the sound of the orchestra whose impetus seemingly presses you against the backseat through its sheer ostentation, while in reality, it is the speed of the car.

“Ladies, I still don’t think this is a good idea.”

“What I meant by Sunmi is right was, we gotta look natural,” Eonjin says, shoving two potato crisps into her mouth at once. “We’re just delivering a box for Mister M.Y.G. and fuck him up. Want some? They’re really crunchy.”

“Not in the mood, I’m sorry.”

Sunmi turns down the volume at least one bit.

“Yoongi is the real snack we’re after anyways. I got so curious how he looks like.”

“You won’t be so curious anymore if we see him walk into a mob boss mansion in a minute,” you mumble into your hoodie.

“The usual pessimist,” Sunmi darts a quick glance across her shoulder to face the back seat, and chuckles. “And you’re not even the one with everything to lose.”

Eonjin looks as confused as you are.

“Sunmi, what do you mean?”

The music stops. Her finger stays on the pause button.

“My customers. They don’t seem to come back recently.”

“Oh...”

“Maybe it’s Wang’s new restaurant at the end of the street that opened last week. Their food is good. They don’t have sandwiches, but a lot of staff. I was happy when you showed up with Eonjin at my stall today. Takes my mind off things, we can have some fun.”

You reach your hands out to the driver’s seat, and rest them on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry for that, Sunmi. That sucks big time.”

Eonjin puts down her map.

“Hey, why doesn’t anybody pull a huge marketing stunt for these sandwiches? I mean Y/N eats them every day!”

Sunmi is the one shrugging now.

“Nah. I’ve tried everything, really. If we get caught up in a scandal here they might sell again. Ya-hey!”

The Honda goes on burping and bumping music two skyscrapers later. Nobody in the rusty car really bothers looking at the black Mercedes driving in the parallel alley. Celine Dion is at full blast now. You have to scream against the ariose and pompous voice and orchestra.

“Sunmi, listen. You can start at our cafeteria any time!”

Eonjin loudly agrees.

“Yeah why not!”

But Sunmi doesn’t reply. Instead, the whole car comes to an abrupt stop. The seatbelt digs into your chest. You can’t breathe. Once the breaks kick in, both Eonjin and you slam back into your seats.

“Sunmi!”

“Shit!”

“What happened!”

“There was, someone crossed, the road, fuck!”

Eonjin cries out.

“Did we hit them?”

“No, but...!”

For one moment, you see nothing. No orientation. The seatbelt relaxes around your chest again. Your breath goes fast, but it’s back. Then, a wild knock against your window.

Shock.

The voice is all too familiar.

Sunmi pushes the pause button almost automatically. She's dead-eyed. Silence. And then—

“You fuckass pricks, I just got a new bag! What are you doing, hah? What's going on! Reckless driving motherfuckers! Who do you think you are, Honda twats! You're fucking ugly! Speeding through Hannam like dumb shits with the volume up!”

Hyuna’s bright red grimace of anger appears up close when you operate the crank to bring down the window. You take off your glasses for her to recognize you. Her eyes go wide.

She stumbles backwards.

“What! Sweetheart, you?! And, Eonjin?”

“Get, get in the car, Hyuna. Fast.”

You size her up head to toe. She seems alright. She didn’t fall. Sunmi successfully evaded her. Other cars behind you are already honking. You still feel so dizzy.

“Oh, okay, uh!”

You open the door, grab her shopping bags, and stuff them under the driver’s seat from behind. Hyuna climbs over your lap to the other side of the back seat, pulls her seatbelt down.

Eonjin sighs out, picking up the map she dropped.

“Hyuna, what the fuck! Use the traffic lights to cross the road!”

“I can’t walk there, I just had to carry a lot, goddammit! I had a good time shopping!”

Sunmi, eyes still wide in panic, looks back at you, then Eonjin, then Hyuna.  

“It’s the Kim Hyuna?! From your office, Y/N?”

“Yes, you idiot!” Hyuna promptly replies, stifling your voice before you can even raise it. “Are you Y/N’s chauffeur or what! You need to quit your job, hah!”

“Me, an idiot?!”

“Calm down now!” Eonjin grits. “Hyuna. This is Sunmi from the sandwich stall!”

More silence. Hyuna’s jaw drops.

“Are you kidding me!”

“We explain that in a minute. Sunmi, get going. We’re losing Yoongi. We gotta hurry.”

“Losing Yoongi? Sunmi driving? What’s going on here!”

Even now, Hyuna still wildly gesticulates around. You need to dodge her arms about three times. Sunmi restarts the engine. In about half a minute, the Honda rattles down the alley twice as fast now.

“Hyuna, listen. We suspect that Yoongi has some shady business going on,” you crank up your window again. “Something with Lexcom. He always drives to Hannam for something.”

“Really now? Lexcom?”

“Namjoon sent us Code 19 for Yoongi.”

“Yoongi? He’s a fucking spy?!”

“Looks like it. Namjoon’s social media went dead since he got hired. It's all very weird.”

“Huh, I thought Namjoon is in Daegu? With the prototype thing?”

“We’re not so sure about that anymore.”

“So, Namjoon thinks Yoongi spies on us for Lexcom. And you get into Sunmi's car to find him on lunch break, but instead! You try to run me over, what the heck— I thought you make good sandwiches and mind your own business! Clown.”

The Honda goes even faster. The polished Hannam apartments blur outside your window. You were wrong about Lee “Leadfoot” Sunmi being a decent driver.

“I’m not a clown! You were the one crossing the street from a dead angle! And I heard you’ve been on some bullshit in the office, too!”

Eonjin deliberately presses the play button.

Celine Dion’s ginormously loud and emotional outcry about how her heart will go on interrupts the conversation. After two seconds, Eonjin shuts down the CD player completely.

“Do I have your attention now?” she grumbles. “Stop fighting. The only clown in this game is still Yoongi. He got us into that mess. While we were arguing, he parked his car over there.”

She points toward a tower-like building at the far end of the street.

“Eonjin, my ears!” Hyuna just keeps on whining. "Celine Dion, what?"

You shush Hyuna with a quick hand gesture.

“Wait a minute, Eonjin! Yoongi parked?”

Sunmi slows down the Honda. She checks twice whether the music is actually turned off now.

Now it’s your jaw that drops virtually into the subterranean if it were actually below you.

The building where the Mercedes stands has a bright yellow sign at its very top. You recognize the lettering almost right away.

Yongsang Digital headquarters.

And at the entrance: The tall silhouette of Kim Namjoon.

“Four gals on a fucking trip, hah!”

“Quiet, Hyuna. Only Sunmi should be visible! They have their CCTV everywhere.”

Eonjin rustles behind the map, peering across the upper part just enough to observe the entrance.

“We’re not breaking in or something, calm down,” Hyuna wails in return. “Just want something to happen!”

“They just walked in like three minutes ago,” you murmur into your hoodie, then pass Sunmi the paper box of chicken from your lap. It’s kind of lukewarm already, as are your thighs. It’s a miracle that the container survived the heavy brake earlier with just a kinked upper corner. On the top lid, a name field with red felt marker scribbled right across in Sunmi’s typcial convoluted handwriting.

Cruise Chicken Delivery Service Itaewon. Fresh and red hot! For M.Y.G.

The Honda, even though its engine is turned off and the hand brake is on, rattles back and forth when the driver’s door pops open. The car still didn’t recover from the race through Hannam. You wonder whether it will even start again later.

“Thanks. Just stay wherever you are. And check your phone, Y/N,” Sunmi whispers, making sure her apron and cap sit right, and her name tag is horizontal before crossing the road.

While Hyuna tries to suppress her “yes, fuck it up!” cheers, both Eonjin and you look at each other like Jimin just singlehandedly hired CEO Jeon from Lexcom himself.

You're all too familiar with wrong decisions and regret.

And now that.

Sunmi casually struts toward the entrance, snapping her fingers, and moving to the nonexistent beat of Celine Dion’s I’m Alive that made the speakers burst when you went down Hannam bridge earlier.

“She’s the right kind of person to do this,” Hyuna snickers into her fist. “Just look at her.”

You want to crawl under the driver’s seat and pretend to be one of Hyuna’s new bags.

“She said we need new rules. Guess I have to abolish Code 19 and 20 altogether.”

“Come on, Y/N. Cruise Chicken Service from Itaewon is just delivering something! Only another day in the fast food business. Relax, hah.”

“We can get into serious trouble though,” Eonjin cowers down. “And Namjoon messing around at Yongsang Digital is not good at all either.”

“Yeah, he lied about being in Daegu. And they shook hands and smiled, I saw that. Namjoon was in his best suit. He had his bling bling watch on, you can see that shit from a mile away. And, look.”

You point at Yoongi’s Mercedes. Namjoon’s BMW parks right next to it, door to door.

Hyuna peeks outside her window from below.

“Snug, aren’t they. Becomes more intense with every minute, hah.”

You fiddle with your smartphone under the sharp eyes of Eonjin, going through both your emails, chats, and other messages. You hope that Sunmi typed in your number correctly. It was all in a hurry. You hate improvising.

“Any vital signs?” Eonjin asks, then ogles the BMW again.

“None yet.”

“Ah, probably a good sign, hm,” Hyuna flashes a smile. “None of them actually know her. The delivery thing is genius.”

You disagree.

“Should have called the police. Should call them now. Something is terribly wrong about Yoongi and Namjoon messing around at Yongsang. We only went for this because we thought Namjoon was in actual danger...”

“Police ain’t needed. The only thing—”

Your phone buzzes. Hyuna starts screaming.

“Oh gosh, oh gosh!”

Eonjin reaches her palm to the backseat to cover Hyuna's mouth.

“Don't yell! Open the message, Y/N, quick!”

Your nervous fingers need three taps until they activate the little window on the screen.

Comin’. Stay down. — S

Hyuna can’t stifle her second scream either even if Eonjin tries her very best to contain her.

“Sunmi made it!”

“Hush!”

You leave the message window open but duck down even more.

Eonjin gasps into her map herself when the doors of the building swing open.

Sunmi casually walks out with Namjoon on her left and Yoongi on her right. Both men head towards their cars. You can see that Yoongi carries the chicken box, half open.

The Mercedes reverses out of its parking space, first. Smooth and elegant. When Sunmi struts toward the Honda, snapping fingers, the BMW’s window winds down and Namjoon, sunglasses on and laxly steering the wheel, makes a short departing gesture. Sunmi tips her hat, then gets into the Honda's driver’s seat, wordlessly turns the keys, shifts gear.

“Jesus Christ, Sunmi, what happened?!” Hyuna pokes her arm.

Sunmi hands you her phone.

“Stay down until we’re out of the CCTV range. Click on the video. Explains everything.”

The engine takes four trials until it crackles again. Then, the Honda follows the BMW and he Mercedes downtown.

You press play on the video. A shaky view through a thin corridor appears. An edge of the chicken container shakes back and forth at the lower end of the frame. It’s Sunmi walking towards a room. The camera turns dark when she stuffs it into her apron. But the audio is still on. Two men are whispering from the side, or wherever Sunmi walks. You recognize them without a doubt. The voices are Yoongi’s and Namjoon’s. The camera stops shaking. Sunmi stays still.

“It’s just the way I thought,” Namjoon says. “Same shit, different company. Fed up. I can't do this any longer.”

“Do you think warning Y/N is a good idea already?”

Yoongi’s voice is even more hushed.

“We have concrete evidence. I think we should go for it. This is dangerous. And we can only pretend for so long. They’ll find out we’re from SeoulTec soon enough. You might be, but I’m not the most believable shareholder.”

“I don’t trust this either. Hoseok gave us an offer way too early. That's fucking strange!”

“Because he has to launch the software fast, he has no time. Hyuna and Eonjin are already busy finalizing the blueprints. Yongsang can’t wait. They have to use them first. We were the best and only opportunity for him.”

“I can’t believe that Hoseok managed to hack the innovations team.”

“We should have been more careful with the blueprints. Hoseok has already started using the codes, did you see that?”

“You mean, the presentation?”

Yoongi sounds confused.

“Yeah, you could tell they took basically everything Hyuna worked on and made it their own.”

“Sorry, missed that. I was too busy pretending I care about stocks. Hoseok has a keen eye, he’s asked me a couple detailed questions yesterday, I’m still sweating. If I blow our cover this is going downhill. We're so close.”

“The only thing that’s important is that I keep my social media clean of anything. They could hack into it within a minute.”

“But you did send Y/N the warning and Yongsang’s postcode, didn’t you, Joon? #9828.”

“Yes, but I couldn’t write anything else.”

“No wonder she’s not been doing anything about it yet. She misunderstood.”

“I guess— Damn, time is running out. Half past already.”

“Ditch that coffee, we need to get out of this kitchen.”

Rustling. Steps. The camera shakes even more. Loud commotion. It sounds like people bumping into each other. Yoongi sounds like he’s having a heart attack.

“Who, who are you!”

“Shut it! I’m Y/N’s friend! Sunmi!”

“Sunmi?! From downtown?”

“She sent me to look for Namjoon, we’re outside with Eonjin and Hyuna!”

“What!”

Yoongi still keeps his voice low, but you can tell the panic in his tone.

“Back to the kitchen! Come! There’s no CCTV in there!”

More rustling.

“Aren’t you from the sandwich stall Y/N always goes to? And why the chicken?”

“Yes, that’s how we planned to get in.”

“What did you just hear when we talked, Sunmi?”

“The whole conversation.”

“We need to get out of here.”

“But we still have to say goodbye to Hoseok, shit.”

“Hoseok?”

“That’s Yongsang’s CEO!”

“You fuckers look like a million bucks right now, come on! I give you the chicken, we walk out of here together like nothing happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look at this box. We wrote ‘for Min Yoongi’ on it. This will look like you just guys ordered some food for lunch. Take the container and start eating! Where is this guy Hoseok’s office?”

“Third floor, it’s made out of fucking glass.”

“You walk past like you have to attend a meeting elsewhere, wave goodbye from a distance, and just munch. I take the staircase in the meantime. We meet at the reception, like ‘by chance’. And then exit the building, all three. Easy business. Y/N is still waiting outside, we’re in a delivery car.”

“Okay, we just pretend we all part ways first when we’re in the car. There’s CCTV outside.”

“And then we meet at my food stall together. It’s close to this new restaurant, Wang’s.”

"Oh man! Are you sure that all of that works?"

"Take the box, fucker. Go."

After a few more seconds, the video ends. No more storage left says a little flag at the bottom.

The deep fryer is working overtime. Eonjiin made sure everyone has their smartphones turned off. She made Namjoon and Yoongi check their suits for bugging devices thrice.

Sunmi, albeit barely concentrated on her work, stacks sandwich after sandwich together while everyone comes together at the counter. It’s pure mayhem until Namjoon gathers his words. He’s still shaking.

“I sent Yoongi to work for Lexcom four years ago. To find out what they’re doing,” he begins. “And this week, I made Jimin hire him to become your secretary, Y/N. While we both went to Yongsang Digital under the guise of being their new shareholders, simultaneously. That’s why we turned up with our best suits, the expansive watches, parked the cars right before the Yongsang building. So they would think we’re the richest blowhards around.”

“What! What do you mean! What was that for! Hah?”

Hyuna is redder than her suit and keeps on tugging at Namjoon's shirt. The sausages on Sunmi's grill start to look jet black because she doesn't turn them. Namjoon's voice becomes even more frail.

“Calm, please, stay calm. B-both times. I suspected they were trying to mess with our company. In the first case, I sent Yoongi because I knew that a scam was going on at Lexcom. It was too late, they already made the tax fraud allegation against us, and they launched the stolen product that we had been working on. This time, with Yongsang, I had to be faster and go there myself. I didn't want to make the same mistake. Of course I lied about being in Daegu. I was busy gathering information from how Hoseok was hacking into Hyuna’s database. Yongsang Digital has been doing the same thing as Lexcom four years ago. They stole shit from us. So I went undercover.”

“So that’s why you said your social media went dead...”

“Yeah. You didn’t understand the email I sent you?”

“No, I thought the postcode was Yoongi’s applicant number.”

“Oh fuck...”

Yoongi buries his head in the napkin Sunmi had handed him a minute ago.

“So— you thought I was spying on you?”

“Yeah, all the time. I thought you were doing some horseshit with Lexcom. And that you kidnapped Namjoon. That’s why I sent Sunmi to find and observe you.”

Hyuna builds herself up in front of Yoongi and pushes his chest now.

"Yeah! We were fucking worried! All because you two couldn't get your number right in that email? Shame on you! I almost died!"

"Hyuna, what?"

"Sunmi was speeding down Hannam lane like a maniac and almost knocked me over after I walked out of a boutique!"

Namjoon knocks his head against the stall counter now.

"What... have I done."

Yoongi wipes his forehead with the napkin now, and Hyuna lets go of him.

“I can’t believe it. Hoseok spies on us and steals codes, Namjoon and I spy on him in return, and you spy on us pretending to be a chicken delivery racecar driver. This industry is nuts.”

“We didn’t pretend! I’m actually a food delivery,” Sunmi pouts right away.

“But you made up another name, didn’t you. Cruise, uh, Delivery Service or something.”

“That was just a detail. You two jackasses, you pretended to be some loaded as fuck stock owners from the Wall Street! You were eating caramel cookies in Yongsang's designer break room! I thought vigilante justice is less luxurious!”

Yoongi looks mortified.

“Jackasses? We did it to protect Y/N’s business from another bankruptcy, all we have to do is alert authorities and they will jail Hoseok and his hackers! Namjoon and I tried to fit in there, that's all that was.”

You put down your sandwich and point at Namjoon with narrow eyes now.

“Hey, are you sure that they won’t accuse you of espionage yourself? You didn’t get into Yongsang through legal means, did you?”

“Ahm, we just walked in and said we’re interested in stocks after Hoseok’s product launches. I mean, Yoongi actually has stocks in Switzerland! That the product is made from a code that Hyuna made? Hoseok pretty much told us himself, we didn’t have to do anything!”

“Yeah. He invited Namjoon and me for his short presentations. And we saw that most of the software design had SeoulTec written all over it. Hoseok is too arrogant not to keep it a secret. Anybody who would have walked in there as a guest listener would have found out that he stole the codes!”

“If that guest listener knew what we develop here,” you raise a brow at Yoongi now.

“We’re 'stockholders', we know how each software company works.”

“Thanks to that, we have an issue with the police. One glance into their data bank and they will know Yoongi works as my new secretary, and Namjoon as our CCO. We fucking trapped ourselves.”

“Wait a second,” Eonjin puts down her fries. “If I can detect evidence on my PC that they hacked us, I can be the one who reports them. The police will never know about the stockholder thing when Namjoon and Yoongi retreat from Yongsang Digital without a trace. I mean, you used different identities, right? How did you get to know each other, anyways?”

"Same basketball team in high school," Namjoon clasps his hands. "I kept up with Yoongi for years during our business majors. We even made a start-up once, that was auditing. Ten years ago, but it failed. Then I found out about Lexcom's scam when I was already working at SeoulTec. Sort of by chance. So I called him up again, and suggested that he should go to Lexcom to investigate. Yoongi was a rising secretary at the time, he just came to Korea from his time abroad in Switzerland. Of course, Lexcom hired him. And for the identities we had for the stakeholders make believe — We were a bit, say inspired by the initials of our pets. Ryan and Holly."

You have to bite your tongue at that. Christie S. Kwon dot fucking com.

“And yeah," Yoongi puts down his napkin. "We used fake IDs. Namjoon called himself Mister R. from New York and I was Mister H. from California. They didn’t even ask about anything else, I just flashed them my Switzerland stocks on a tablet, the car, how I worked at Lexcom four years ago, and Hoseok already asked us to join. He was easy to persuade. He offered us the stocks. They thought we wouldn’t know about SeoulTec’s innovations because we supposedly came from the states. They just rolled the presentation and bragged about their stolen software to impress us.”

Hyuna rolls her eyes.

“So much about legal. You really went in with fake IDs? You're both a fucking mess. But, how unprofessional can Yongsang Digital be!”

"Better than actual theft. I mean, we just showed them my stocks, watched a presentation, and put on an American accent. We didn't have bad intentions, it was just a reaction to when Namjoon spotted malware in the system last week. We knew someone was extracting our blueprints. But we couldn't prove it was from Yongsang yet. So we decided to take matters in our own hands. That's why I showed up at peculiar times in the secretary office, too. We were just demonstrating interest in Hoseok's stocks, nothing wrong with that."

For some reason, that, too reminds you of Sunmi's motto. Well, well! We're just delivering. Fresh and red hot!

“At least that’s good,” Eonjin says, “that you didn't use your own names. We can work with that. I say, we focus on how I found out how they stole the codes, and send you two on vacation while the investigations are running. We need proof for the malware, too. Then we're good to go.”

“True. It shouldn’t be too difficult to find evidence about what they stole,” Hyuna munches away at her sandwich. “The base code will probably be damaged in some parts where they attacked and extracted files.”

Namjoon nods at that.

“We know exactly which blueprints they used, too. When Hyuna can prove that her email inbox was leaked, and which ones of the top secret blueprints were stolen, Yongsang will get fined and Hoseok will be put on trial for being the fraud he is.”

Hyuna’s angry red cheeks turn back when she hears that.

“My inbox, too? Fuck 'em! And when do the Yongsang scammers plan to launch my software, then?!”

“In about two weeks,” Namjoon rubs the back of his neck. “That’s a month before we want to bring our prototype on the market. We also have information about how Yongsang cartelizes with Lexcom to make it a successful launch.”

Another collective jaw drop. The sausages are already starting to turn into coal, emitting pitch black smoke. Even Sunmi puts down her ladle. You are the first to say just about anything.

“You’re only saying that now?! They work together?  Joon, don’t fuck with me. What on earth is going on. What is Lexcom doing!”

"I know. It further complicates things. That could be the lawsuit of the century," Namjoon cracks his knuckles, bites his lower lip. No eye contact.

“They’ll just fix the price," Yoongi adds. "Yongsang's profits will skyrocket. Probably into several trillion Won. They have the industry in their hands now.”

The memory comes back. Your mother, with the newspaper in her hands. Crying. The reputation of years, the trust from clients, all gone in one day. You knew exactly why Namjoon did not mention a single word about hiring Yoongi.

Now you're the one to get red in the face.

“With our fucking product!”

“Yeah, Y/N. It's kind of a dilemma. And we don't have much time left." Yoongi stirs in his fries with a sigh. "I thought we could do this more, I mean, discretely. I need a giant cup of herbal tea."

"I just can't believe it," you reply. "Yongsang stole our blueprints and cartelizes with Lexcom. Where do we even start.”

"At least it's not too late. But we have to do something about both enterprises."

"And I'm, sorry," Namjoon adds. "We should have figured that the postcode was the same as Yoongi's applicant number. You should have known earlier."

That’s what Jimin meant by leaving your boxing gloves in the ring. This is the ring. It was never Yoongi. Not one second. He was the good guy, and Jimin never lied. He was the one who gathered all the information about the tax allegation, too, in order to warn Namjoon four years ago. Maybe there was hope.

"Don't be," you say. "It was an unlucky coincidence. And you had to stay in the shadows about it anyways. Otherwise, Yongsang would have known. I mean, and we still have to be careful."

Hyuna brings her fist down on the counter, almost knocking over the mayo.

"These fucks!"

Eonjin nods. She's chewing at her nails now.

"That's surveillance for you. If it was only Yongsang's hacking, we could alert the police. But with a whole cartel. It'll be tough. We're already neck deep in trouble ourselves. We're not any better. Cruise Delivery Service fucked up."

"Then we can't do worse, can we?" Hyuna asks.

Eonjin wraps her hair around her head twice to cover her face. Her head limps down, and not even Namjoon's pat on her shoulder seems to help.

"No, we really can't," she sniffles.

"Then," you take out your phone, "we use our last and best weapon."

"What do you mean?"

"Fuck Murphy's Law. We use it to our advantage. He'll destroy everything."

Sunmi blinks at you, while Yoongi tries to get a glance at the number on your screen.

"Who? Y/N, who?"

The speaker first beeps a few times, then, a cheery voice emerges, next to an avatar with a man smiling impossibly bright on your screen.

"Hey, hey grump! Can I help? By the way, think I found out which aftershave it is, did an actual Google search. And the new interns, oh! They are mighty, mighty fine. Oh yeah. Ask T, he's super in love as well. They were all saying how handsome he is, they got manners. If you still think Yoongi's an ass, you might as well grab yourself one of those. There's about fifteen of 'em. The exact opposite of the IT nerds, can you believe it? That's the HR dream. I don't know how you survive that much stress without fucking anybody to dust. Man, I could use some attention as well. You're so glad, got dozens of cute people on your corridor. Anyway. What did you want to ask, Y/N? How's Christie S. Kwon doing?"

Hyuna taps Eonjin's arm in the background with a cackle.

"He's the right guy for that, just look at him. Sexy, hah."

You only see Jimin's backside when he slips off Namjoon's passenger seat in what possibly are the tightest pants anybody at SeoulTec has ever worn. The passenger door slams shut, as does the driver's where Namjoon just entangled his long legs and stepped out, and you're alone again, with Eonjin and Hyuna giggling to your either side on the back seat. You hear Yoongi's door close just a few seconds afterwards. Then, the entrance door to Yongsang Digital headquarters is cranked open.

The back seat is much broader than the Honda's and super sleek. Even Sunmi, surrounded with a bunch of soda cans, babbling and cracking jokes from the trunk has enough space to stick her head out. Namjoon was right that all four of you should get into the BMW together. While Hyuna bargains with Sunmi to give her one of the cans, Eonjin continuously strokes her hair back, then puts it into a ponytail, takes the scrunchy off again, and starts from the very beginning.

"Nervous, Eon?"

"Well, let's hope Hoseok isn't that heterosexual," she peers through the window, phone in her left hand ready on dial. The windows are gladly darkened, so either of you doesn't have to duck down now. "I pray for the day that I can actually use my 4Ps once. I feel like Tom Cruise and this mission is impossible."

"No guy is hetero when it comes to Jimin," Hyuna wiggles her eyebrows, an open lemonade can in her hand now. "I think even Taemin has a big crush on him."

Sunmi, a brand new 5,000 Won bill rolled together and clamped behind her ear, makes big questioning eyes from behind you.

"Wait, who's Taemin?"

"Works at maintenance," Hyuna explains. "Yesterday, you won't believe it. He tried to fix Jimin's printer even if there was no problem at all. I think he just dropped by to get charmed."

You clear your throat at that.

"Hope keeping track of that didn't make you neglect that task."

Hyuna quickly stiffens her posture and puts her chin up, arms akimbo.

"Y/N. Really? I'm the employee of the month. I got this done in ten minutes. If Jimin lets his eyes sparkle and Yoongi can get the USB stick in the right spot, hah. Then we can open a glass of champagne at Sunmi's in thirty minutes."

"Would love to," Sunmi puts her thumb up. Eonjin keeps on staring at her phone.

"Nothing yet, they've been inside since noon."

"Five minutes almost. They should be in Hoseok's office by now. Operation Gentleman's Essentials begins."

Hyuna almost chokes on her lemonade.

"Oh Lord! That name cracks me the fuck up!"

You shake your head.

"Let's hope the same doesn't apply to Yoongi. I get the feeling that he will lose his cool soon. He's a secretary, not 007. He likes cream cookies, green tea rolls, and Swiss chocolate. I wonder why Namjoon could persuade him to do all these jobs just to save SeoulTec in the first place."

"He might not be James Bond. But Mister Yoongipenny!" Sunmi raises her own soda can. "Don't worry."

Hyuna clinks her nails against the soda can and casts a frivolous gaze toward you.

"You're concerned about him, hah. The crane lady and the secretary rockstar, I see. I give you condoms anytime, that would be the cutest dick ever to hop on. Or wait, this is just a fling, isn't it. After you cool off, maybe you like Sunmi? She's got edgy shoes and a good swagger when she dances!"

"Hyuna, you're inappropriate again. My private endeavors aren't yours to decide. I don't need suggestions when they're that aggressive. I decide for myself."

You try to focus on the entrance of Yongsang Digital. But you know that there is nothing to see anyways.

"Sorry, but your sex life is the only thing that worries me. The entire department. You need something to improve your moods. I'm always half joking, you know... but you always seem so lonely and dissatisfied. Sometimes people need a nudge, ya see. I know what's best for you."

"No. And why do you care about that? You've almost ripped Joon's shirt to shreds and unleashed a mob on Yoongi. I don't know who needs some mood management in here."

"We all do," Eonjin taps around her phone, looking for messages. "Some Swiss chocolate wouldn't be a bad idea right now. And the champagne."

"Yeah, that'll do. My grill needs a bit of cleaning but I can make us some fried tofu noodles, I got kimchi in stock as well. Namjoon was so stressed yesterday, he ate three sandwiches and two bowls of vegetable rice. I didn't have that much revenue in a week."

"Operation Gentleman's Essentials could cause the SeoulTec stock crash of the decade so we need that money," Eonjin exhales. "I can't even think about a marketing campaign to save us with, I don't know, just about any new product. Think we need to ask for the PR department to fix it all up in advance."

"Don't think too much ahead," Hyuna says. "But you're right... this all isn't very healthy."

"Start with the soda cans," you raise your brow, "maybe it's that what makes you wanna mess with my sex life."

"Man, he calls you grump for a reason, Y/N! You're so negative. Can you be any less stubborn?"

"Dissatisfaction is the reason new things are made. Supply and demand. If I wasn't dissatisfied, I'd not be driven. Am a CEO."

Hyuna laughs.

"More like, a cat person."

Eonjin puts down her phone, screen still turned on, but still empty of any commotion.

"She's right about dissatisfaction though. The supply and demand. It's what Lexcom and Yongsang don't see. That's why they have to steal our shit. They're cowards and don't know what customers want."

"I thought the same," you nod, "they also want to skip the process of observing customers. They take our results to skip the efforts. Just to release is earlier and get the money. I think this is more insidious than anything Cruise Delivery Service has ever done."

"If they actually still exist," Sunmi puts down her soda can. "I think we've done our part."

Hyuna goes into pouting mode again.

"Eh. I'm already feeling bored. The boys club is out there doing shit and we hide in a car, hah."

"Waiting for SeoulTec to go bankrupt. And my damn sandwich stall."

You pat Sunmi's arm in return.  

"You know what I wanted to say before we almost had the accident? I made up my mind about it."

"Huh?"

"If SeoulTec makes it, Sunmi, you're hired. I mean, it's just a possibility, you don't have to."

"What!"

"You know... it'd be great to have the Sunmi Express Takeaway where the city feels alive. I think a lot of people would enjoy it."

"But, but—"

"Take your stall with you. We have enough space at the entrance. You can do whatever you like there."

"But, doesn't it look shabby? Your building is very modern."

"Don't give a fuck. You can access and use our cafeteria kitchen as well. Front of House will like you, I promise. Taehyung will print out flyers of your menu and hand them out. You don't deserve to be beaten by Wang's kitchen. You need a queue. When your grill is back in good form, of course."

"T—Taehyung? The reception guy you talked about, with the nice suits?"

"Yeah, he's cool. Unless he gives out passwords to potential spies. But that's another story."

"You mean Yoongi, hah? Come on Y/N, he didn't turn out to be the threat you thought he would be."

"I just wonder why he did all of this for Namjoon."

"They're basketball buddies. Didn't they create a start-up, too?"

"Doesn't really explain why they playing their Mister Yoongipenny game by themselves."

"Maybe Namjoon likes you? Maybe he likes Yoongi?"

"Even if either was true. That's not enough of a reason. He even lied about Daegu just to be at Yongsang."

"Whatever drives him, I just hope it won't get in the way with Jimin's big day."

"That, too. Eonjin, is there any message at all?"

"As with Sunmi, that's probably a good sign. None."

"Oh I went through hell in there! I had no time to call. Even my video was bad, I was lucky the phone didn't fall out of my apron!"

Hyuna already disagrees.

"You did a good job, it was all improvised! I wish I could dance like you."

"Hyuna, you did some proper tap-dancing on our last Christmas party in the office, don't complain," Eonjin laughs, for the first time that seems like an eternity.

"That was fun. Maybe that's why they voted me as employee of the month later?"

"In May? That's a delay of several months!"

"I was never good at statistics. Like causation and correlation, hah."

"Not so sure anymore whether what you put on that USB actually helps us," Eonjin says. "What exactly did you make her programme, Y/N?"

Hyuna sulks in her corner now. Employee of the month — devastated.

"In the words of Kim Taehyung," you smile to yourself, "When your opponent is better, all that's left is to sabotage. Hyuna didn't do a bad job, I'm sure. It's not about statistics."

"Oh really, you liked the result?"

Hyuna looks more hopeful now.

"Didn't have all the time in the world to review it, but I thought they were great at first sight. I will when Hoseok wakes up to the biggest stock crash in the history of software."

Sunmi can't believe it.

"All just through one USB stick?!"  

"Not really. We rather make use of Hoseok's own shortcomings, he'll sabotage himself. All it needs is a little spark. That's what I made Hyuna programme."

"What shortcomings do you mean?"

"Greed. Arrogance. Impatience," you count each off by a finger. "You'll see what happens. The trick is simple. It's not even classic malware."

"For real?" Hyuna asks.

You affirm.

"Yes. All it does is infuse Hoseok's news feed with fake articles how Lexcom is developing their own software, one with a bigger budget, and it looks strangely like his. Meaning ours, our stolen prototype, but you get what I mean."

"What? You think that works? How is Hoseok going to believe that, hah?"

"That's where Jimin comes in. He plays a filthy rich Silicon Valley innovator working at the enterprise 'Chim Parks' who can present Hoseok a new, improved software."

Sunmi scratches her chin, looking a little lost in the trunk now.

"But, Y/N... that doesn't make any sense!"

"Because it doesn't stop there. Hoseok will not only believe Lexcom stole the same software and now competes against him. Once Jimin presented the Silicon Valley software to him, he will give Hoseok a free trial version in exchange for the stolen prototype data. This trial version happens to be infused with the faulty codes from what, have a guess!"

"Uh... No idea."

"Codes from Namjoon and Yoongi's failed start-up product. We call it Di-On 2.0. That was Jimin's idea."

Sunmi looks completely startled.

"What the fuck!"

"Hoseok will trade us the stolen prototype back hoping that he'll get Jimin's fancy software to compete against Lexcom who supposedly betrayed him. The consequence being that both the cartel gets broken and we get all the data from our prototype back."

"Do you really think Hoseok would trade our software back against Namjoon's?!"

"We made it a free trial so he gets interested. Well, hopefully. But making this trade will increase how much he wants it, but doesn't really have to pay a price. The fake news articles that we feed him with will let Hoseok think the old software is basically worthless since Lexcom is working on it with a bigger budget. Which he can't keep up with. Yongsang's revenue isn't the highest."

"Probably why they're stealing shit in the first place!" Hyuna points out.

"Yes, exactly. So Hoseok will take what he gets now. Jimin sends him Di-On 2.0 from his tablet, make big eyes and raves about how awesome it is..."

"And what about the USB stick, Y/N?"

"That's Yoongi's task. While Namjoon and Yoongi involve Hoseok in conversation in the kitchen before their negotiations start, Yoongi quickly infiltrates Hoseok's office. He just says he has to go to the toilet. But instead, he brings fake news onto Hoseok's PC."

"But, the CCTV!"

"Yoongi will change into janitor standard clothes that he wears under his suit," you explain. "Taemin gave it to him, they are used in every enterprise. So Yoongi can act like he's cleaning Hoseok's office."

"And then he hurries back to the kitchen with his normal clothes back on," Hyuna adds.

"Yes, and he does change in the restrooms."

Sunmi clasps her hands, nervous.

"That takes a long time, ugh."

"Yes. That's why Jimin will unleash his most demonic charm demon during the conversation in the kitchen to buy time. When Jimin starts talking, literally hours can pass. You can't even do anything against it. It's not his forte at SeoulTec. But today it is."

Hyuna puts up a hand for a high five.

"Jimin's gonna talk Hoseok's ears off while Mister Yoongipenny becomes Mister Maintenance and gets the USB in place!"

"That's the plan," you smack your palms together. "With Mister Yoongipenny!"

Sunmi sighs out loud.

"So complicated!"

"Everything can go wrong. But as long as Jimin can convince Hoseok to try and use the shitty start-up codes, we've won."

Sunmi looks even more nervous now.

"But why?"

"Hoseok will be in a hurry to recode the new software for his launch. He can't release the same one as Lexcom when they have more money. It's impossible to fix the price now. He'll realize too late that Di-On 2.0 is so old, it's not compatible with any hardware on the current market."

"In short: We get our prototype software back. While Yongsang releases Di-On not knowing that it's super outdated and whatnot. All while Hoseok thinks Lexcom backstabbed him, and he severs ties between them because of it."

"Meanwhile SeoulTec can sell the software that was hacked and taken from us but we got back because Yoongi is a good cosplayer, Jimin talks a lot, and Namjoon has coded some real bullshit ten years ago that is so bad, it'll make Yongsang's stocks crash."

Eonjin bites into her sleeve not to comment on that, but eventually, still does.

"No PR campaign can save him from that embarrassment."

Footsteps. Besides the ubiquitous typing noise from the secretary room, you can hear Eonjin, Jimin, and Hyuna cackle in the hallway. It takes about five minutes until the chatter dies down and doors click in their locks. Then, eerie silence to your ears that are used to something fairly different.

Earlier in the cafeteria, Namjoon lamented almost endlessly at the neighboring table, then to Sunmi behind the counter about how the 'Three Cackling Musketeers' had simply taken the liberty of using his cherished tablet to monitor today's stocks. It seems to you that they didn't give it back yet, and how would they.

Yoongi keeps on typing with an occasional stop to pick up a cookie from the plate next to him. He looks a little funny with stuffed cheeks because he mindlessly bites off too much at once. Email after email on your screen disappears once you've written the obligatory two liners as a reply each, and the phone comes to rest. You enter the secretary room not so much ill at ease, but with a certain relief in your voice.

"Set. The prototype will be out by Tuesday. You did a good job."

Yoongi swallows, shoves away his notes, closes a few windows on his desktop fast.

"Then what about a break, foyer?" he says.

"Cafeteria's packed, the interns like it there. Must be the new sandwiches or Sunmi's entertaining every customer as usual. But we can finish earlier, actually."

"Oh! And Taehyung must be busy, too? Yeah, sure, Ma'am."

"He is. We can head to the park or something. Three minutes to walk. Downtown isn't too crowded today. If you like."

You pick up your trench coat and bag, the car keys, too. Yoongi swiftly lifts from his chair as well.

"That sounds good. It's a nice place, at the lake. But you don't have to. I know you barely have any free time already. Those were a lot of phone calls earlier."

"You say that as if you were a waste of time and the stocks are more important than my employees. Do you really know whether I think that way, about you?"

"No, uh— Of course not, ma'am," he shakes his head quite vehemently. You tinker with the keys.

"Hyuna often crosses the line. But, I think she was right that I need some more balance."

"More balance?"

Yoongi takes his own fitted coat from the hanger. Bedizen, as always. His suitcase stays next to the desk.

"For private life, and such. And I think the park lake is nice, too."

"We have to sneak out though, I think. Somehow."

"Foyer, you mean. Yeah, we can't go through there. That's a ruckus. Subterranean is better. Don't forget your suitcase."

"Oh, right!" Yoongi takes off his fine blazer to have one layer less, grabs the suitcase. May is being all too moderate. His shirt is in creases underneath. He tries to smooth at least the sleeves. "I'm sorry," he says, "I look a little stressed."

You shake your head.

"Since we got news from the stocks, you're less tense. I don't think you look bad either. You just had no time to iron. Won't make you a bad secretary. You're still up against Joon in the employee of the month poll, aren't you?"

Yoongi laughs a little. His eyes are downcast. Pretty lashes.

"People won't see anyway if you wear the coat," you add, swipe the key card at the door. "Unless you're not wearing it, that is."

The door glides open now. Your tone is unequivocal.

"Is it your wish I won't?"

"If you don't mind to have the creases— for my eyes only."

The corridor is as silent as before. You shut the door with a bleep. Yoongi faces you in earnesty. His eyes are fervid.

"I don't."

"Possibly less."

"Less?"

"I mean less than a shirt for my eyes only."

"Don't mind, either."

"Indeed so?"

"Everything for you, boss."

"You'll have to tell me about the Six Rules in depth."

The elevator ejects you into the subterranean entangled, Yoongi’s shirt is half open. Orbit Electrics knew what they were doing when they made the entire hoist extra slow. You're glad Taehyung and virtually everybody else is busy in the foyer and not going up and down from floor to floor.

Yoongi hums into the kisses so pliantly. He's buttoning down for two inches more. Your hands rest calmly at his neck. The mirror that had given you a good view of his backside has a few streaks on eye level now. The pitfalls of men's hair gel and getting pinned against a shiny surface. But you don't care. The maintenance heading for Jimin’s printer tomorrow always starts their tour scrubbing here, and they don't bother with speculations. The elevator doors are already closing.

“Whose?” Yoongi asks, parting from your lips apace.

“Your car. Wanna see you clean it up later. And drive home with my scent in it.”

“That’s a really good argument. What scent is it going to be, anyways?”

“Whatever you tickle out of me. Secretary job.”

Yoongi can't hide the arrant amusement on his face. At least, he tries to.

“But that’s nothing I could scrub off afterwards with a quiet conscience.”

“Then I’ll see you crawl and climb around in my office instead. Buckets and all.”

“You like when I clean something for you, I'll write that down.”

"Later, Romeo."

The black windows block out the neon gleam from the subterranean lighting on the ceiling. Yoongi, lips locked again, has to fumble for the button thrice until he finds and pushes it. The four lamps of the Mercedes switch on as does the ice blue ambient lighting of the dashboard. Now, the back seat delves into a gleam. To your surprise, the lights even coruscate a little, as if someone lit a candle.

“Comfy,” you retreat, rearrange on his lap.

“We can have music, too.”

“You know what I like.”

Now, your eyes are blithe.

“Rule Number I. Go the extra mile showing respect to a superior. What genre? I have everything.”

“Don’t laugh.”

“Hm?”

“Jazz. Soul. Maybe?”

“Comfy and groovy it is,” he plants a kiss on your collarbone, then bends to the driver's seat to mess around with the touchscreen. A few seconds later, trumpets, bass, and percussion resound. Yoongi gives a testing smile.

“Use Me. Bill Withers, August 1972. B-Side: Let Me In Your Life.”

“Is that supposed to be subliminal?”

“If you want, it will be, Ma’am.”

“Then, can I use you, Min Yoongi?”

“Beg you to.”

He's nestling with his hands around your hip when he slips into the backseat again. You're detangling your hair. He's been an avid kisser.

"What was Rule Number II again."

“Know how to please the senses if I'm not mistaken, boss.”

"That sounds interesting. Are you sure it's not Sex Rules instead of Six Rules?"

"I've pondered it. Glad to interest you very much."

"Pants off, Romeo."

His belt clicks open already.

"Just a second."

And he shoves the hem to his ankles. No way for your eyes to miss his boxers bulging out center. Yoongi notices. You yourself are striping down the elastic of your waistband, and get rid of the trousers in celerity to hop on his crotch.

"Any thighs spare today?"

"By all means, help yourself."

"What's the safeword, Mister?"

"I suggest your blood group."

"Oh, zero. That's good."

"Yes."

"Then we use yours or 'go on'. AB, I mean. Then B is for pause. A is for more."

Your neck is brimming. Yoongi's lips are hot and glossy on it. Between your legs, Yoongi's knee grazes at your pubic bone. Easing forward sends a tingle up your spine. His slimming to the calves while shapely at the thigh where you shove up his boxers with your grinding. It leaves a mess, and your own panties disheveled either way. Yoongi is too busy purling into your skin and lapping at it. Only his thigh muscles react to your movement. They clench and declamp, erratic within the rhythm that your hips gyrate to orienting itself at the cadence of the song until the trumpets abade into silence again. A new tune starts with a silent piano.

"Please the senses, what else is there?"

“Rule Number III. Safer is better,” he murmurs into your hair.

Yoongi's lips are cerise. The bulge at your core is still waxing.

"Not planning on maternity leave either."

Yoongi hums again.

"Sorry, driver's seat."

Reluctantly, you glide off his lap to the side when the piano goes into a forte. Yoongi rummages in the depot of the car dashboard until he draws a magnum packaging out of it. Before he can open the wrapping, you tap his shoulder.

"You know what?"

The tone in your voice seems to sway him pressing the stop button of the music.

"Any concern, Ma'am? We can always stop."

"Just an idea. Fancy a more sophisticated spot for us? We can do something stupid and have fun." You pick the condom from his fingers, nod towards the pedal. "I bet you didn't miss that the subterranean has not just an exit."

"It goes downwards over there, doesn't it."

Yoongi looks toward the direction of your car, parking next to a barred descent to a lower plane. It's a dark area.

"It does. To my personal strongroom."

"That one should be 5-0-6 on the CCTV in your office, isn't it?"

He saw it passing the table where the cookies are led out.

"Nobody else has the footage. I can easily shut it off, too. Same goes for opening the bars. All electronic."

"Rule Number IV. Your bosses' preference will always be worthwhile. Sometimes it's more than just strawberry and chocolate rice cakes."

"Well-remembered. Shall we go?"

Yoongi laughs.

"What would Hyuna say? When out of all people, you are the one to suggest that we can do something fun and stupid, that's a must."

You wave around the condom between to fingers. Yoongi turns the key. The blue lights turn slightly orange now that the engine purrs. He maneuvers the car out of the parking lot, then past your Porsche. You can see how veiny his hands are at the steering wheel. Something must have gotten his blood going.

The Mercedes parks by itself in the empty plateau. You decode the CCTV from your phone, shut it down. Equally, you open the round vault door with a face recognition. Exiting the car, you leave behind your own blouse and Yoongi his boxers, shoes, socks. The only thing you take with you is your phone and the condom. Yoongi has kept his tie on. The rest he stripped off faster than in Yongsang's bathroom. You notice that he's clean-shaven. Not a stubble. Maybe lasered. Maybe waxed. Whatever secretaries do nowadays in their regimen. But you have to redirect your eyes since the door is bleeping. A timer to open within thirty seconds.

"We don't have piano music in there," you turn the door's wheel clockwise. "That's the only thing I don't like."

"I can play the piano."

"You do?"

"Can give you a taste with my fingers."

With a massive boom, the door opens inward, as does the tight grid behind it. You tug Yoongi in, switch on your phone screen for light.

"A taste... Have you seen what's dripping down my thighs already?"

"Doesn't mean there can't be more of it."

"Good argument." You rotate the light switch on the wall until the quadric room brightens into a deep yellow. The door churns back into its round frame. You swipe into your phone to keep the locking bolts retracted as they are. A row of deposit boxes rows up to the ceiling on the left-hand side. "Just need a bed to sit on."

You trace the lockers, counting.

Yoongi smirks.

"I suggest starting with #9828."

He can't be smirking just because it's his number. He's seen you like what you saw stiff against his abdomen.

"The floor's too hard for you. I'm going for something else. I sort until #1000 only anyways, this isn't like Lexcom's vault."

"It soon will be when stocks crash."

You hand Yoongi the condom to roll on, browse the shelves where gold bars are locked in behind glass until you reach the other section of the vault, quick. Behind a grey lattice, cranking to the side, you pick up bank notes, strip off their red paper wrapping, and toss them toward Yoongi.

"Soft enough to get fucked on?"

"Softer than cream," he sticks a bill between his teeth with nonchalant fingers.

"Rascal."

You empty five, six, seven, eight more box contents onto the floor. The room already starts to take up a very different scent. Not of bank notes, but a familiar aftershave. Sandalwood. Without counting, you estimate that there are about 200 Million Won on the floor, Yoongi and his net cash excluded. Both your ankles are already disappearing when you wade toward him, sit down on his chest. The back of Yoongi's head sinks into the paper a little too much for your taste. That's what the tie is for. Pulling at it lifts him ever so slightly towards you, although you realize his Adam's apple doesn't like it. So you loosen the sling. Yoongi's sleek bangs fall out of his face. That's not happened before so far.

"Could be a good ride without a fancy car, could it."

You're tantalizing. Yoongi's chest is hot under your thighs, between them.

"Don't need a fancy car as long as you fancy me."

"Cheesy, aren't you?"

"It's a lifestyle."

"I wanna go for it. Any risks involved?"

"I'll keep your pussy wet."

You gird him closely with the tie once more.

"Quite an ambitious secretary."

"Doesn't mean I won't start slow."

The bills rustle around when Yoongi brings his hand up. The veins have seem to bulk out even more into a blue relief.

"A piano session, I see. You may. Blood group: AB."

Yoongi bites his lower lip. Your eyes glaze over observing him so closely, doing his work. Finger tip after finger tip testing which one fits best on your clit. He's monitoring your reactions after each rub and prod, and he has a lot to see.

Whatever lube issue you ever thought running into, fucking someone after such a long time, has proven itself to be unfounded. It's his thumb that smoothes into you with the most ease. It's slightly broad and angular. It's the best access, while the rest of his fingers can rest on your pubes and massage into it with broad, sweeping circles. You thought he'd be silly about this. He has no intents of retracting his thumb.

You graze his collarbones with a digit almost mindlessly, catching yourself just rock against his hand to get the maximum traction out of it. A bad idea. A good idea. Your body doesn't know. All you feel is the arousal tint your vision and dripping Yoongi's chest with drops of clear fluid.

"Damp day, isn't it," he says. "In Spring."

"I'm looking for some heavy rain."

Yoongi's intonation sounds all the more tempting now.

"Are you testing me?"

"No need to test to know you're a good weatherman."

He increases the frequency of his thumb circling. You can't help but moan along. The vault is too small for it to take up an echo. All you hear is your voice stay up close inside the walls, and only amplifying with his movement. He's too good— for his own good.

You loosen the tie from his neck, to his surprise, and detagle the nod. He slows down his fingers.

"Those hands are dangerous," you say, picking them up. "Way to go. Can I?"

He nods.

"Sorry Ma'am, I just type a lot. And now... they're preoccupied anways."

In a matter of half a minute, Yoongi finds himself with bound hands. He wiggles his wrists back and forth in the knot of the fiber, going nowhere, only fastening the gusset more because of the movement. You're shaking your head.

"I said they're dangerous, that needs a punishment. Just inhibiting them isn't enough."

"Are your punishments severe, boss?"

"Going by the Golden Book, they aren't. Unless someone leaks data. Then I'll be hard on the perpetrator. You're lucky."

"I made you leak, didn't I."

You squint at him. He's serving you his salesman smile.

"Giving me the brat? Hard punishment it is."

The smile grows even wider.

"Extra hard? I'm curious. Haven't had someone beat me up for long."

Tongue in the corner of his mouth, he's toying with your gaze. It doesn't take long for you to get the idea.

You don't bother answering. Despite all efforts not to, Yoongi exhales with a little fuck under his breath. You're sliding down his cock.

The paper stacks won't sit well in your hand, but they doesn't have to. You trace his jaw with them, side to side now.

"You need a smacking?"

"Need's an understatement."

"Then get ready weatherman," you fixate his head, hand grabbing the underneath of his chin. "It's raining bricks."

"Fucking— hot."

It's his face you're going for, down on his cheek. Flat side. It doesn't leave cuts. The bils disperse around his face like a paper halo.

You're satisfied how it turned out. A bounce of your hips landing on his own sweetens his expression for you all the more.

"Good— showers today."

"You took that one well."

A kiss to the cheek. It's a bit red.

"Thank you, Ma'am."

You test one of the stacks, make sure the wrap is in place.

"Mouth open, Romeo. Show me your teeth."

His jaw loosens. You hook your fingers at his lower lip.

"You got cute buck teeth. They look expensive."

"They are. But I only paid so I can smile at you."

"Smiling is good. Biting is better. Corny sucker." You shove the stack between the two pearly row of teeth. "Keep still that way. Secretaries from Daegu normally don't keep their mouth open as wide."

"A for me."

You nod. He bites down on the notes. The look in his eyes makes you drip on his cock.

"Good boy." You flick his nose with your middle finger snapping from your thumb. He's wincing. "Long as you know your place."

I will, he wants to retort, and you know he does, but the gag in his mouth prevents the words to come out clear.

Taking in his scent makes you want to curl up and cum right away. You slap your ass down on his thighs, take his dick deeper. Yoongi, still trying to manage the stack barring his jaw, does as much as whine. It gets louder when you sink down on him completely, but discontinue the thrusts.

"It's no punishment if I ride out all of your cum and call it a day."

"Nh—!"

No movement. Still hips. Yoongi twitches inside of you. Moans. Writhes.

Still no movement. It's if as his cock begs inside of you for a more fervent drilling.  

"You'll fucking suffer, brat. I'll destroy you."

The whines blend into lumbering breaths, making you wonder how far his stamina is going to take him. Yoongi's hands are visibly shivering, much like his legs.

You take out the gag of notes from his mouth. It only closes with dire efforts, and too much saliva sploshing out to soak his dried lips. You continue thrusting down on his shaft for a dozen times.

"Let me hear, pretty love."

It's easy for your labia to glide open on his shaft, perhaps too easy, as the promise of wet weather did not fall short. Nor does your teasing. The amount of friction is barely enough to shove the condom up and down, and keeping him half in. It's torturous. It's in his eyes.

"Please. Break me, boss, please..."

"Oh I could," you slow, even more. "But I wanna use you later. Can't empty all of you."

"Boss, you're so cruel—"

"Be grateful for your dick riding."

You barely thusted twenty times. That'll train him. The yearning is in this face already.

"I, I am!"

"Then sip this up and make me come."

You huff out and slip off his dick. The condom is decently bulging out with precum at the top. Yoongi's head tilts back into the pile of notes when you sit on his face. Support from your legs helps you to push up your pelvis enough for his tongue winding into you. No hesitation. It curls, it prods. It explores. It looks for the spot that his thumb left just teased enough not to make your back arch.

An almost electric charge begins to make your body brim.

You want to grab hold of sheets but there is nothing but money. To your relief, Yoongi rustles with this arms above his head, still tied.

"Hold— on there," his lips drip, and just a second after, the teasing of his mouth resumes.

You grab his upper arms on either side. They're firm enough for you to find hold to lace on during the rise of your orgasm. He's purposely putting some tension into his muscles.

Yoongi isn't stupid.

Nor half as experienced as you thought he'd be, having been so busy around the globe.

You come on his tongue with a feeling so carnal, either of your knees in the pile of money seems to flicker, and then disappears trembling. No sentence in your mind makes sense anymore. Just the hot shot of pleasure pooling in your loins, bringing more fluid down, way down, for him to swallow. All support from your legs ceases to hold your hip in place.

Holding on to Yoongi's arms even more is the only way to prevent you crushing in his face from the jaw upwards with your weight. You can barely loosen the knot of the tie for him to get his arms free to come and prop your waist up. His tongue is still lapping and sucking until you feel the licks become aching on your clit.

"Zero, Yoongi— Sensitive," you expel, and he leans his head back. Your legs still tremor underneath you.

"You alright?"

He helps to lift you off from the crouched position, making you stand as good as possible, and you nod.

"That fucking tongue... shit!"

"Sorry, I got a bit carried away."

"Need a moment, oh my god."

He offers his chest to lean at now, humming. You snake your arms around his torso, barely standing. He holds you until at least a bit of sentiment returns to your legs. Severe breaths are replaced by flimsy ones when it does. Embraced this way, you'd expect his boner to press firmly into your stomach. But he's flaccid. And the condom is bulging out much heavier at the filled tip.

"Did you—"

"You can't just crush me and think I won't find that hot, Ma'am."

Shaking your head in disbelief is too much of a hassle now. But if you could, you would now.

"How much more of a painslut can you get, Min Yoongi."

"Who gets cum fed from their boss like this."

He nods toward the floor where crumpled bills are spread under your feet, almost flat to the floor.

"I'll probably feel that ten days from now. Sorry for cutting it short, my brain just did a somersault."

"Don't worry boss. I have a rule for that, too."

"Oh, right. There was one."

"The fifth rule. Don't overdo it. Some things are best saved for later. Nothing works all at once."

"I don't even want to know what you saved for later," you wipe some sweat off your forehead. Yoongi seems a bit bewildered.

"Wait, Y/N. Was it— bad?"

"If you just make me drip and come like that... what's next, enlightenment?"

"Damn... You scared me for a minute there."

"I'm the scared one. You sit next to my office every day and talk with a tongue like that. Where the fuck did you learn this!"

"Won't distract you from work, I promise."

"Easy for you to say, you're not the one getting turned on!"

Before Yoongi can reply, your cell phone vibrates a few times on the floor. You pick it up sighing.

"Ah, shit."

"What's wrong, someone calling?

"No, battery is at 10%. I still have to give you my number in the car. There's a lot to clear up around here."

"Yeah," Yoongi looks around. "But I wrote down I needed to clean something up for you. You can go into the car and type in your number into the dashboard, it has a button for that at the top. I'll clean here, I mean the vault door stays open until someone turns the wheel."

"Okay, but you'll just bag this," you get up to draw some large grey sacks from a corner behind the shelves. "No issue. We won't stuff that back into the lockers or something. That takes forever."

"Are you still going to use the bills? Some might be a little, uh, stained and creased."

"Well, yes."

"Really, boss?"

"Now that I think about it. It's the money I'll send Yongsang after they demanded compensations from Jimin."

"Holy fuck, what? They really did?"

"This very morning. Chuck the condom into one of the bags as well. It's all still gonna be cleaner than most of the money Hoseok handles. I might fuck with you. But he won't fuck with me."

Taehyung steps into the elevator with his third-best outfit, trying to camouflage a giant grin.

"How was his suit like?" he licks his lips. You press together yours. The grin is too knowing.

You should have considered that he checks the CCTV of the subterranean every now and then. The vault, at least your personal one, he won't and cannot monitor.

At least Yoongi has black windows in his CLS, too.

But you have to live with the fact that Taehyung knows you only took two days from “Apparently he’s a ghost” to “I fucked my secretary”.

You elbow his side and watch him laugh even more.

“T, you should rather tell me how the press handled the big reveal.”

"Stocks are great, I mean, that happens when you chill out for once and have fun."

"Oh, I see? Backhanded compliments are the currency at SeoulTec now?"

"Am not complaining."

"Me neither, in fact."

"About what particularly?"

"Jimin does a good job hiring people. Extra salary coming his way. Next month. I will pay the Yongsang recompense for him as well."

"He does hire well. Not to mention he is a good actor, anyways."

"One day... he'll stop calling me grump and gets promoted."

The elevator tingles.

"Don't think he wants that," Taehyung shrugs.

"It's true that the position is already perfect. He just deserves something extra, you get what I mean. But I can't just gift him a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, can I."

"Hm. You know what, Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"You might wanna try something counterintuitive."

"Well, shoot."

"Promote Taemin."

"Taemin from maintenance? Into Jimin's office?"

"Jimin's liking the attention. Taemin finds a lot of fault in his desk tools as well. He's always on their floor to wipe something."

"Probably just to hear Jimin laugh, doesn't he."

"You got it. So, just an idea. Taemin is qualified anyways. He can do anything. I don't know why he is still busy wiping elevators and whatnot."

"Sounds like win-win."

"It's what I'm saying."

"Will give it a try."

The elevator doors pop open. Taehyung rushes out left-bound toward Eonjin's office. You stay inside the cabinet and wait for the doors to shut again.

But you hear more footsteps.

From behind the palm plants nearby, Hyuna turns around a corner and dances into your direction. She pretends to get into the elevator singing, then steps out again, messing with the ankle-level laser that lets the doors rattle, indecisive whether as to close or not.

"We'll talk later, lovebird," she chants.

"Am busy."

"Busy busting his balls, I know! I told you!"

"Seriously... Taehyung can't keep a secret. Does Jimin already know?"

You turn toward the mirror, demonstratively taking out your phone to swipe through your apps.

"So it really happened, I knew it. And Taehyung? He didn't tell me anything. I can just smell it. Don't even pretend! This entire building feels different. You got yourself that boy toy, hah."

Of course. Her entire dancing charade was just a bluff to test you. Hyuna's methods become more intricate by the day.

"Kim, back to blueprints, there's an evaluation coming up. We gotta stay on top now. Seoul's press would eat up anything controversial right now, the entire Di-On plan would have been in vain."

"Yeah, yeah, lovebird," Hyuna rolls her eyes.

"And don't buy too many of Sunmi's soft drinks. That shit gets you high. Miss Employee Of The Month. How can you even focus on coding?"

"Hah! That shit's delicious! And Sunmi needs her revenue!"

It's like talking to a brick wall.

"At least everything's back to normal in here. And don't worry about Sunmi. Her queue is back and longer than ever."

Hyuna makes an odd face.

"What? Back to normal? You fucking around is not normal, chief! I'm so close to throwing a party. I don't know if Sunmi can stock up on champagne anytime soo—"

"Blueprints, Hyuna. Blueprints. This is SeoulTec, not a nightclub. My birthday is in three weeks, we celebrate then. There's plenty to do beforehand, still."

You tap your fingers against the sides of the phone. Hyuna just laughs.

"Plenty to do? More like plenty of doing your boyfriend! For how long didn't you have someone?"

"Get to work."

Her lighthearted As you say! gets cut short with the doors closing. A second later, your phone buzzes. It's Hyuna's icon popping up in your messages.  

— gotta have some fun in life, y/n ;) you already know it's a good thing. i'll keep it a secret though. fuck him rough.

Raindrops dabble on the aviary in the garden. There are only few cars, all headed to Incheon airport, chattering down the adjacent road every five minutes, maybe less. The frequent thunder at the bay makes them barely audible anyways. The rugged pines are swaying all around the pavilion at the pond.

But it's warm indoors. With nothing particularly interesting on the news, however. You zap back and forth since seven fifty, but the channels aren't as interesting as what goes on in the other room.

You sit and stare into the tube, hungry, one ear very much observant of the rummaging in the kitchen, and the constant walking noise. A little later, the footsteps cease for a second. You're twice as attentive now. To your surprise, the cat purrs in the hallway. It's her cozy-smoochy type of purr.

The footsteps resume their way to the living room. You stretch your neck out to look into the hallway. With his hair a little messy, Yoongi shuffles around the corner.

Now, the red off button on the remote yields to your digit fast. Yoongi slouches down next to you on the couch because he realizes too late how soft the cushioning is. It's unusual to see him in anything but a business landscape or driving around in Gangnam, now with a tight Muji shirt on, fairly low-cut, jet black.

After switching off his phone and tucking it underneath the table, he opens the noodle boxes that he balanced onto the nearby table, watches them steam away quite intently with two pairs of bamboo chopsticks, still wrapped, sitting right and left on several napkins with the crane logo embossed. Both smells of soy sauce and spices layer in the room like an invisible blanket of scent. Yoongi seems to wonder about something, scratching his chin. It catches your attention, but still leaves you in the dark.

Outside the formality of the office, and without the constant thought of Lexcom, the simplicity, the trained sleek demeanor, in his mannerisms has almost dissipated. He took a long time in the kitchen, too. He's relaxed. To your surprise, he's brooding more.  

"Sunmi always gives customers two extra napkins when the food is more grease-laden," you say after lighting strikes outside at the harbor.

"She does very well with the stall. I've seen her bustle inside at the cafeteria counter as well."

"Yes, working out how to rotate best, currently. With a better salary than at Cruise Chicken Delivery Service. Was about time we got her into the cafeteria. She even traded her Doc Martens against the uniform without saying anything. I think she really likes it at Front of House."

"Wouldn't be surprised if she takes over the foyer in a week," he clicks his tongue, and grins.

"Me neither."

The thunder keeps on rumbling. Another flock of cars, heading towards the airport, makes their way down the road past the alley of cherry trees.

Yoongi settles on the big purple satin pillow in the righthand corner of the couch, pulls up and fondles his knees. His sweatpants, calves downward, have cat hair all over it. Nice to be at home. This might be what Hyuna called balance.

"Clingy, isn't she," you say.

"Cats like me more than dogs, I guess."

"In that case, I myself am a cat."

"Why not."

Yoongi takes his chopsticks and shoves their thin paper wrap off, then snaps them apart in the middle. He turns to you, noodle box in his hand, stirring. You lean over to kiss his nose. The rain keeps on pouring onto the pavilion roof. It's rhythmical. A few birds nestle in the aviary to hide from the sweeping drops as they always tend to do. Yoongi settles closer to you now, leaving the pillow.

After cracking apart the chopsticks, you want to pick up the other box of noodles to stir them yourself, wait, taste a bit, then remain startled. You're sniffling. Something isn't right.

"Oh?" Yoongi's eyes get a little bigger now. "Is it that food?"

"Nothing, just. It's unusual without your aftershave on. Really different."

Especially now that he's so close.

"Ah, that one. I didn't apply it today. Funny you noticed."

You're chuckling, then pick up the vegetables from the box with the chopsticks.

"First it's causing me a hassle, and when I think it'll be there, it's gone."

"It did?" He perks up, chopsticks tucked into the box again. "It's not that strong I hope."

"Sometimes people get used to what they wear and forget about it. My whole office is like, it's like you dip it into the bottle, too every morning."

And you're more intimately familiar with it than just that.

"The office... Guess you're right. Sorry for causing a nuisance."

"Didn't say it was a bad thing. Nothing against your normal scent either. Mind you."

"I bought it when I received a call from Jimin that I have a chance to start at SeoulTec and follow-up the work of— Jin, that was his name, right."

You're nodding.

"It's strange. He was all about perfumes and whatnot as well. He's read your book anyways. Looked up to you. He's doing well in Gwangju. I mean, with your guidelines he can't go wrong."

"Really? The Six Rules?"

"Didn't know that either until recently. Think, now I know why I wasn't keen to see Jin leave an empty spot that's hard to fill. Little did I know, your philosophies are the same. I thought you were polar opposites."

"The spy thing," he nestles in his hair, "wasn't the best way to introduce myself."

"Now you can. Different place, different start."

"But not the 'Min Yoongi, 26, from Daegu' way, I'm thinking."

"The cat needs that introduction, perhaps. Tell her about the trophies you won."

"She'd be so bored, it's not impressive."

Yoongi slurps up a few noodles after testing for temperature. He can barely keep his mouth closed because they're still so hot.

"Cats don't usually become secretaries, she wouldn't be bored. It's two different worlds. Don't burn your tongue right there, Romeo."

He swallows.

"Am trying!"

"There should be a rule that prohibits hasty eating."

Yoongi shrugs, draws another string of steaming noodles from the box.

"I think it's called common sense."

"Theory: Yours disappears whenever it's in my radius."

"No objections. Good theory."

"Or is it because you're just into that."

"Not burning my tongue in particular. But maybe other stuff—"

"Might have gotten myself a masochist secretary indeed."

"That sounds like something Hyuna would say," he munches and laughs, seemingly at once, but at least, you note, he waited for the noodles to cool for a bit.

"She pretty much already did. Kind of insistent as always."

"I mean, was Hyuna ever wrong?"

"More often than not," you nod. "She said you look good. That's understated."

"It's my job to be. I hope! At least."

"You didn't ever look bad as far as I can remember."

"I mean— And what she said about being a boy toy..."

"Is that in your manual?"

You tap Yoongi's chest with nonchalance in your tone.

"It's a lifestyle, anything can be arranged."

"Was she the one who gave you the condom?"

"Like ten of them, in an envelope," he gestures. "Taehyung dropped by with it and we both thought it was regular post or something."

"She even signed it?"

"Yeah, there was a note inside. With 'by Cupid Of The Month' written on it. And more 'xo's than I've seen in my entire life. And I thought, she spent her money on this?"

Yoongi scratches his head. You're mostly bewildered, too. 'Cupid of the Month' had stopped at virtually nothing. But who's surprised.

"Typical of her. Sorry that, you know, she's been so direct with you anyways. I don't know what to do with her. Hyuna's a wild card. All people at Development are like that."

"I mean, she introduced me to colleagues in her office, I got free contraception, she made compliments. Can't really resent her. If you go by the Golden Book, Hyuna's an outlaw. But if you go by what she accomplishes, that's a different story."

"Hm. Maybe it wasn't a bad idea to keep the condoms," you twirl the chopstick into the noodles. "I do get cravings."

Yoongi perks up.

"What cravings, Ma'am?"

You smile to yourself already.

"Oh, Romeo is interested?"

"I'm the genius secretary supposedly. Making sense of— My superiors is the least I have to do. I think that's what the manual is about."

"Information intake, isn't it," you crawl toward him. Yoongi sets his noodle box aside almost like robot on autopilot, all while staring at you. "I don't think you have troubles filling, you know. The empty spot."

He's staring even more, pupils blown wide enough to replace the dark hazel of his eyes with sheer, deep black.

"Pleased to do anything. Boss."

"You wanna know where that empty spot is?" you watch Yoongi's eyes drop to your crotch. "Well, almost."

Now, he's raising a brow. Palm flat, you pat your lap instead.

"Here it is. For my bratty brat. But not with a full stomach. If you fancy it, later."

"You mean— For a spanking?"

The nod that you let his words follow is deliberately tantalizing. Yoongi's chest rises and falls quite heavily.

"Hyuna hears that through the grapevine before I even raise one hand."

Yoongi's eyes crinkle at the outer corners. It's mischievous. He does look like a rascal the way he is one.

"Maybe... it's the spanking echo she's hearing."

And how could you not chuckle, now, too.

"You're fucking funny."

"Oh, well."

"I have more things like these in mind. If you wanna hear."

"Yes, yes," he loosens the seam alongside his shirt's cleavage, as if it were a collar and not so loose already.

"Just keep on eating," you retreat from the proximity, falling back to your spot in the sofa. "We're not in a haste. I've known you for two weeks or so. Rule Number V, remember. Slow."

"Right."

Yoongi picks up his noodles again, but he's not quite focused. Teasing gets to him. He's aiming to finish up fast. You eye him with a little mischief in your smile yourself.

"So, you really like to know what I've been thinking about, anyways?"

"Virtually nothing against that."

You tap your chopsticks against the edge of his takeaway box.

"Been thinking about how I love to test how obedient you can become. Curious how far it goes."

Christie meows in the hallway. You're starting to think she has synced with Yoongi's mind. Because that's what happens when a cat brushes herself against a secretary's legs each time. Bizarre, isn't it.

"As, as far as you desire."

Yoongi seems to have some troubles leaving his jaw closed.

"You didn't even hear what exactly I'd like to do. Got a whole list in my mind."

"Fair enough, but I don't think anything less than worthwhile is on that list, uh."

"How come you think you won't be selective? There's a lot."

"You smacked me in the face with money and sent it to your arch enemies. What's next? It can only be something good."

His intonation alone makes you throw your head back into a deep laugh. Particularly the 'what's next' undoubtedly appears to be something that he picked up from your tone.

"That was for the lack of anything else at hand. You like bills?"

"Mister Jung Hoseok at Yongsang does. I like the smacking part more."

Good answer.

"It's why I figured spanking suits you."

"My ass comes for free."

"Now you're the one who's teasing."

"Learned it from the master."

Yoongi crams the empty noodle box shut, wipes down his mouth with the napkin. Christie mewls again, scurries down the hallway into the kitchen heading for her metal bowl on the floor.

"But ah, I'm sorry Y/N, you weren't finished with the list."

No, you weren't. It makes your thighs tingle just thinking about it.

"Talk about ass. Anal sex in the whirlpool? I know it's a bit outdated. But you've probably seen that it's got an edge to hold onto. It's good to just bounce, and not slipping away. No guarantee that your dick won't break off."

"No doubts you're capable of causing that," Yoongi holds his belly, stifling another laugh.

"Hyuna came into the elevator recently and said the exact same thing."

"She's prophetic."

"It was about busting balls or something? I don't know what her partners go through. Like on a regular basis. I think it's that E'Dawn fella who works at the market. The guy probably gets fucked into oblivion all night with ten toys and a champagne bottle stuffed inside of him or something."

"As much as I want to be envious of him with that... Maybe she's not as we see her behind closed doors, I don't know. You surprised me, too."

"Oh, with what?"

"When I was in the development department. The whole office said you're a spoilsport or something. I think the opposite is true."

As expected of the gossip central. By now, all it does is amusing you.

"Well, work is work. When the software has to be protected, this is what we focus on. People will stew in their own grease about me being a spoilsport until Taehyung passes out a rumor that I might have, say, repurposed my own vault."

"Well, he just said he saw us head to the car on CCTV, didn't he."

Yoongi might be right about that now that you think the scenario through, the camera angles in mind. The walk from elevator to cars is fairly long.

"Yes? And afterwards, some interns came along to pick him up for after-work hours. All you see on the footage then is only that the car drives off to the lower level where the vault is and comes back, I guess, two hours later?

"Yeah, like that."

"We've been lucky Hyuna holds her tongue, too. Hard to believe she really promised. I don't know how she found out. I think she tricked me into telling her but that's not quite it."

"I think... that's my fault," Yoongi shrinks in his spot. "It wasn't kiss-and-tell, but, yeah."

"What, she knew because of you?"

"No, uh. After I went back home after we cleaned the vault. I've accidentally texted Namjoon something I wanted to send to you. Your numbers are very similar. I think I made a mistake with the dashboard button to access your number after you typed it in."

"Namjoon?!"

"Yes. I'm sorry."

"I think we both have a numbers problem. What on earth did you send him? Nudes?"

"No, just an audio file."

"What!"

"No, no! It was just music. It wasn't me moaning or something."

"Thankfully, oh my gosh. But— That made Namjoon pick up on what was going on? I don't get it."

"I realized too late that it was the wrong number. It was just from the album. But I wrote your name and "for you" underneath."

"You mean Bill Withers' album?"

"Yes. I think the song was too telling."

"Which one was it?"

"Kissing My Love."

"Oh..."

"It wasn't explicit at least. But I think he understood right away. I couldn't send it again, I was afraid it would get posted to wherever."

Now you get it.

"That's why you've been calling me by landline yesterday? I've been wondering why you acted so strange about it."

"Sorry again, Y/N."

"All this technology and we're still human."

"The only thing without number errors is probably the software."

"That's because Hyuna developed it. She's best when busy. I can send her and Namjoon some new blueprints next week, I think. It'll take their minds off before the entire department implodes... discussing our love life."

You tuck your own noodle box away, with only a few chunks of too-spicy garlic at the bottom that you left out with deliberation. The hormones that Yoongi gives you just sitting on your sofa are making you feel hot enough.

"I don't think they're bored enough," Yoongi shakes his head. "We have a lot of stuff going on with Lexcom trying to save face and blaming us in the press. And people are still angry that Yongsang demanded money from Jimin even if it's all paid."

"Such a mess. But at this point I don't bother. The Di-On plan worked. My secretary is trying to send me music. All I care about."

You unfold one of the napkins, trace it across your lower face quite diligently.

Yoongi reaches underneath the table to grab at and bring up his phone, switching it on with a little 'ding' noise.

"Um, you might like this, I don't know."

You scoot next to him, gawking over his shoulder onto the green-lit screen where an "Unnamed_1" file pops up under his fingers.

"Cool, more jazz?" you ask.

Yoongi fumbles to press play to an untitled file. Piano music starts playing. It's lighthearted.

And then, a little heavy. Saddened.

Then, cheery again. It goes back and forth.

It's as if it was telling a story.

"From February," Yoongi says.

"That's you?"

"Yes. I had some time to compose back then."

"For how long have you been doing that?"

"Since second grade. I own a grand piano since the eighth."

"You're really good. Eonjin tried to play for two years, this is so much hard work. Why is that piece not named, it's so beautiful. I can really see the atmosphere."

"Ah... Thank you."

"Tickles— My own ivories."

You bite your lower lip.

Yoongi has to blink a few times.

"Sorry, what?"

"Nevermind, Yoongi."

"That sounds like a good title, to be honest."

"Hm?"

"Nevermind, I mean."

"Guess it fits. What key is it, anyways?"

"D Major, ma'am," he hums.

Now you're the one blinking.

"Hey, wait a second. Are you flirting?"

"I might be."

"Press pause right there."

The piano music stops. Yoongi lays down the phone on the couch flat, screen down.

"You said something about ivories," he pries. "I'm just curious."

"Is that an AB?"

"That is an A."

"Oh, want to hear more of my piano innuendoes, huh?"

"How could I not."

Yoongi almost cracks up when you flip him over onto his chest by the waist, and drag him by the ankles to get him towards you where you want him on the couch.

"Bummer the jacuzzi isn't running. I would break your dick off I swear," you tickle Yoongi's sides. "Come, come here to Mistress. Need something else to substitute for it."

"At your service," he crawls until settling on your lap, face down.

Maybe Hyuna will hear the echo indeed.

His pants are loose enough to slide them down with relative ease. Pleased to see what is there to inspect, you trace the outlines of his peach fuzz at the bottom of his spine, down to his little compact cheeks. Goosebumps spread all over while Yoongi wriggles his face into the couch whimpering. Grazing your nail into his skin seems to be particularly fun given how he arches a bit more each time. Even if there's not a hint of aftershave, something else strikes you as smelling really good, radiating from all over his skin.

"What shampoo do you use?"

Albeit barely audible, Yoongi still manages to mumble something even if the way his balls slips between your thighs makes his legs visibly twitch hard.

"Pa, passion fruit. Some no-name brand."

"Very nice."

Another pinch, more poking, and Yoongi's ass slowly comes alive with tiny red marks and an overall flush. However satisfactory it is, what pleases your ear more is the pained groan coming from him when you squeeze together your legs and put pressure on his balls.

"Is that an A for me?"

"Yes, Ma'am. Ah—"

"If your balls survive the weekend I am skeptical about. You did say you envy the E'Dawn guy for getting his spare of torture."

More pressure.

"Don't really need 'em," he grits. "Long as your pussy is wet."

"You do learn fast, love. Ready for some spanks?"

"Beg you... to."

You already cup your palm on his right side of the butt, about the lower half where the most flesh aggregates, adapting the shape with your fingers.

"This one's for 'D Major'. You're so cocky, even Jimin couldn't pull that off."

The first hit is deliberately crisp. His ass is cushioning your hand with a slapping noise louder than you thought it would give off. Yoongi bites into the fabric of the sofa, nose scrunching together.

"Nnh—"

"And this one's for 'softer than cream'."

A lighter blow stamps his ass a little redder. Judging by the double twitch in his legs, he's surprised. You realize how much you love playing with his anticipation. Yoongi's face soon buries in the sofa again when you make sure he feels you tugging and compressing his balls with the inner sides of your knees from either side.

"Sorry, boss! Ah!"

A third whack to his other cheek, remaining the cupped shape of your palm.

"Say it louder."

More pressure on his balls. It's not Christmas, but you start to think it's still fun playing Nutcracker. Yoongi's ass is turning cherry pink around the main red spots in the meantime.

"B for a sec, oh my god, oh my god," he gripes until you pause right away. Yoongi's breathing hard. You relax your thighs entirely, wait until his jaw declenches and his face begins to emerge from the surface of the couch.

"Is it really okay to go on?"

"Yes, just, just a moment. Oh, fuck..."

His mouth gapes, saliva pools at either side. You pat Yoongi's hair from behind, feeling it through. It's quite soft without any gel in. You check how his breathing goes in a heartbeat. But he's already grinding his cock against your thighs again.

"Okay, Yoongi?"

"Okay."

"I'll give you two more. Without the balls."

"They're blue anyways, shit."

"Mh, it's making you horny?"

"Too much, Mistress."

"Then keep your ass still and don't rut. Or else it gets worse."

"Sorry, it just happened! I just love your legs..."

He really is a secretary masochist.

"You want a punishment."

"I'm desperate."

"AB?"

"Yes, and, it, maybe it should be, I mean. Fa— fast. Please. I'm blowing up soon. I'm so sorry."

"You naughty piano boy."

First, you flick his ass to get him accustomed, then deliver another pair of spanks to either side of his butt. Each is not as strong a hit as before, but still makes him jiggle. A really stark neck vein starts to thump and run up his tan neck. Yoongi's ass is completely ruined with blotches by the time you end.

You roll him off your lap, awkwardly so, to lay back down alongside the couch. He rotates to support himself from the side instead after his breath stagnates. It hurts too much with his ass facing downward on the couch.

"Calm, calm," you stroke his loins, and twist his fringe out of an otherwise pinkish and sweaty complexion. Yoongi almost immediately twitches. "Sensitive, aren't we. But your balls survived."

Kind of red. Bigger and more bulging, solid, pushing up against the brimming shaft that you would love to flick just like his ass.

He really did become hard. And close. Very close.

"I really thought I'd come, sorry—"

"Don't be. Your screams make me wet enough."

"Ah. That's the goal," he rubs his ass. "How many did I take?"

"Five, two hard ones."

"I need to work on that. As for being wet..."

His eyes linger on your abdomen.

"I'm not gonna shove it in your face, I'll do that later. We need something messier first. Real dirty shit."

"Yes, my goddess?"

"I do have an idea."

"Sounds good."

"Should we do something fun again?"

Yoongi licks over his lips.

"Is there a 'place' I don't know of."

"The garden is in full bloom," you point toward the window. "Nobody can see inside."

"It's still raining, are you serious?"

"The pavilion is made of glass. Did you see it?"

"Oh, right!"

"It's quite beautiful indoors. A lot of ivy covering the outside as well."

"There might be a little bit of evening heat left."

And less presence of a weirdo cat watching you fuck trying to figure out what the hell is going on with these humans.

"We take two blankets. Wrap yourself in one, I join in a minute, I grab two things."

"Okay!"

"And take these here, your socks get wet on the lawn otherwise."

You hand Yoongi your blue felt slippers to put on, open the squeaky old door to the garden's porch and where Yoongi quickly hops out. Wiping the saliva off his chin, he vanishes inside the pavilion with slightly dewy hair. The thunder, gladly, has not returned since a few minutes now. You're heading to the cupboard in your bedroom.

The birds have started to cease chirping while the rain still panders on the transparent roof. Yoongi has spread out one blanket on the powder-coated steel bench inside of the pavilion, the other he hands you right away coming through the little glass door. He looks mystified.

"You put on a skirt, Y/N?"

"Easier to fuck you like that."

"In, indeed."

"No prep, but at least I wanna bounce good on you. Here," you hand Yoongi a little packaging in exchange for the blanket. "Lube that cock up, I need it slick."

"You, you want me in—!"

"Yes. I don't care. The full load if you can. Wanna go for it?"

"That's an, an A. We don't have the jacuzzi, after all."

"You said you were tested last month, right."

"Yes."

Yoongi's pants are shoved halfway down his thigh. He hardly dares to use his entire palm to distribute the light yellow, cold lubricant.

"What's wrong?" you ask, wrapping yourself into the blanket chest downwards, keeping your sweater on. "Help necessary?"

"No, it's just, I'm really sorry if I cum early. Next thing Hyuna needs to send me in an envelope are blue pills or something. I'm sorry."

"Don't be, you made me implode last time. We're even. Take a little more of it, it's cold enough to kill that boner for a while. We're outside, that helps, too."

"Don't want to ruin the blankets entirely."

"I might leak on there too, ignore it. I'm horny as shit. I just need cock in my ass."

"Nevermind then."

Yoongi slathers half a palm full of the liquid over the tip of his cock. Its veins turn greenish, slightly azure. They're even bulging out more than the vein at his neck. The throbbing comes back. You pull off your own shoes and socks.

"If you weren't close I'd step on that dick properly."

"Maybe you should, if it hurts I'll cum later."

"Mh, really?"

"AB."

You place your foot at his crotch, stretching your Achilles heel back and forth a little. A day on the couch can always leave it a bit rusty.

But Yoongi was right saying he'd prolong this way.

Letting the underside of your foot grind, then press against his length, he grabs at the bench where he first finds grip and goes red in the cheeks and collarbones. You slip your right hand between your legs and deliver a few quick rubs against your clit while Yoongi winds on the bench.

"Ah! Oh, fuck!"

Good sign. Now the blood's elsewhere. Retreating your foot, Yoongi's pants have ridden down even more. And underneath the hem of your skirt, a little transparent droplet, bordering milky white, runs down the inside of your thighs.

"Look what your voice does, Yoongi darling."

Trembling bottom lip, he looks up and sees.

"That's, that's sweet."

"You're lucky it's not my period. Might be fun when I think about it though."

"When is it, normally?"

"End of the month, coming up."

"We have plenty of condoms and towels if you want a bloody fucking. Wet is wet."

"That's the motto," you glance down your thighs. The droplet is making its way. Yoongi catches himself fondle at your hips absentmindedly.

"Shit, I wish I could make you come earlier."

"If you're lubed enough, anything is possible, Min Yoongi."

You gather the blanket and get on his lap, a little stumbling. Yoongi brings you upright with the help of his arms.

"You okay?"

"Too horny. Fuck you and your passion fruit schtick. That shit messes with my mind. Been waiting for that veiny dick too long."

"Served to you slick," Yoongi reaches down between his legs, and peels the foreskin of his glans. It glistens with the cold lube, slowly heating the liquid up for you. "Anything to alleviate your cravings."

"Knock before you enter."

"Of course."

Yoongi grabs his cock by the base and taps it against your clit, which ends up spritzing the lubricant all over your labia. The electric feeling shoots back through your loins. It's been a couple days since the vault.

"Is it good like that, Y/N?"

"That's how you get in. Slow now. I'm not stretched out. Just give me the tip."

"I can use my fingers first."

"Tip, Yoongi. Your fingers are dangerous."

Grip tight on his shaft, which alone makes him inhale sharply already, Yoongi obliges, circling in the head at your entrance. It's about a quarter in, by now only dilating the muscle enough for you to feel his superficial warmth. He's struggling a bit to bring it in further, almost slips off. 'Slick' was no lie.

"What makes you relax?" he mutters in your left ear, tempting now.

"Kisses, Romeo. And don't come."

"Trying hard," he leans in. You pull down his jaw by the sides with two fingers.

"Where's that tongue I love, busy elsewhere?"

He shakes his head briefly. Between his teeth snakes out, coated wet, the light pink delight where saliva pools. What dabbles between your legs like the rain, with added lube now, even, Yoongi seems to have going on with his mouth.  

"I love your drool. Good darling," you nibble at his nose, making him crosseyed to follow your movement. Yoongi's cock stays quivering at your ass, half an inch deeper, but still, with a significant part of his tip visible. "Do I squeeze your cock well?"

"It's, it's too good. Ow—"

Sitting still hurts. Yoongi's ass will be green and blue by tomorrow.

"I'll step on it more next time I get the chance, do you hear me?"

"Yes, goddess, oh shit."

You could do as much as sneeze and Yoongi would be bubbling over like a well. Licking off the saliva from his tongue creates long, gorgeous threads down your chin, thinning out as they drop on the blankets. Finally.

You open.

With the help of your own hand, eventually, you stuff the rest of his tip inside of you. To your pleasure, your palm feels Yoongi's cock vein pulsing even harder than before. It's so big and bulging. A little crinkled at the base, and protruding in S-shapes and zigzags the most where his girth spans the widest and your hand rests. You could just climax to the mere thought of it. Yoongi's shampoo really has been getting to you.

"Is it good this way?"

"Just how I want it," you shed the blanket, shove up your skirt a little more. "You feel very good, Min Yoongi."

"Utmost, cordial pleasure, M—Ma'am."

"You're close, my love."

"Yes, hurts..."

"Don't hold back. Cream me up."

He looks at you with big, kittenish eyes.

"Can I, can I really?"

"I don't care. Cum in my ass. You have to clean it."

"I have... a lot of cream for you."

"You're a fucking secretary whore. A."

Yoongi releases with a bass grunt from the very back of his trachea. Droplets from his black bangs nestle between his lashes when he tilts his head back against the bench. The welcome heat of his sperm seeps through the inside of your rectum.

You milk him. Hard. With full tension of your sphincter pressing around the area where his tip ends. Your hand squeezes onto the vein to grout his girth alike, feeling his balls contract and release just inches below. They're pumping more hot bits of seed into your ass the more you jerk him roughly. The more dire, agonizing growls drop from Yoongi's throat, the greedier your hand becomes.  

And so does Yoongi's.

You feel his thumb back pricking at your clit. His hands shake too much to keep his finger firmly in place. Instead, you feel him poking, rubbing you in a helpless frenzy. His eyes look blood-shot when they flash at you. Even though his hands begin to tremble even harder, you see one thing in his gaze. Determination.

The friction against your clit becomes so sloppy, he glides off several times. But that, in return, makes him press his thumb down even more, causing you to squeak and clamp at his shoulders with new each wave of heat and lust that his movements kickstart through your body. He's not giving up so fast. The rain drums onto the roof incessantly.

You want more.

A lot more.

The sheer fury in your scowl brings out a yell that reverberates in the pavilion.

"Do it faster, dirty fuckslut!"

With the words, your forehead comes crashing forward against Yoongi's. His tongue yields immediately to yours jabbing inside. You push it in, retreat, then slide back in to its farthest point, crisp, until Yoongi chokes up. His tearing eyes glower with a spark so gluttonous, you feel yourself leak. The pulse of his thumb against you gains even more acceleration. The heat becomes scorching in your abdomen.

His scent is all you can think of now, and the beat of the rain on the roof. Everything else blacks out. When the edge comes and you part from the kiss, your ass almost automatically pops wider and swallows Yoongi's creamy cock by three inches more, clamping around the vein, and getting fully stuffed and shot up with semen, with lube, his fat fucking girth. The throbbing vein pulsing into you. When the orgasm sets off, your entire core jolts under the fast stimulation of his hands. A thin streak of blood starts running from Yoongi's left nostril and mixes with the drool on his lips. The wind outside hammers against the glass walls of the pavilion while the length of Yoongi's dick crams into your ass further. Your eyes roll backward into your skull. He rubs you through the violent twitches of your body until his hand cramps up and he switches to the other with haste, even more avid digits carrying your through the high until you hit balls deep. The neighbors prove to be on a stroke of luck today when the thunder sets in to drown out you screaming his name.

A late-night flight takes off and leaves Incheon buzzing with the noise of the turbines. A few cars are still going back and forth the lane.

Yoongi's whole body still shivers with sweat. He hangs on the bench like a demolished ragdoll, your sleeve pressed against his nose to catch the rest of the blood. Your body is still buzzing with adrenaline from head to every toe.

Ever so slightly, you lift yourself from Yoongi's cock that doesn't seem to plop out of your asshole right away. His tip is quite broad and acts like a hook inside of your rectum, keeping his semen in place until he helps you with his hands.

The skirt, now pulled down, does a bad job at covering the dripping gape of your asshole. You pull the blanket around the two of you more tightly.

"Ouch, oh fuck..."

"My baby's hurting. Let me hear."

"I think they split in half. My, my balls. Shit."

"You shot that in deep," you slurp off the remaining saliva from the corners of his mouth. "I love your cream serving. Shoved a lot of things around in there. Guess I'm a dirty boss."

You're giggling. Yoongi's ears turn red.

"I like that."

"And your cock is perfect."

"Did it, feel nice?"

A strong nod comes as a fast reply.

"You almost made your hand fall off for that," you pick up his wrist to plant little pecks on it. "This darling working hard, does he. My ass still doesn't wanna close. It misses you. I got more cream than the cafeteria makes in one day."

"If, if you care sharing. You said something about cleaning earlier."

"Oh yes. That serving's for two."

"Yes, Y/N. Can I?"

"Your tongue still ready to go? Tell me when the sleepiness kicks in."

"I'll scrape it out if I must, I'll do anything, boss. AB."

"We'll go inside and I hope I don't lose any of it on my way. Alright? I think your nosebleed stopped by now. It wasn't a lot. Come."

You both stand up trying not to lose balance, thus, holding on to each other inside the blanket.

Outside, you walk through the grass on bare feet, watching out for lightning. But, as Incheon's sky seems to follow however the weatherman sees fit, the thunderclouds have seemed to become tender against the stars again.

"You get a lot of my blood going, Y/N," he says.

You open the porch door for him to slip inside the living room.

"Love you, Yoonie."

Much like the rain, the shower water is running down with a perpetual splash. It's entirely dark outside by now, with few stars peering from behind a translucent grey cast. The moon looms from one corner of the window and sends a soothing, cool light. Yoongi's lips are warm on your shoulder, his hands suave on your back. They circle in the shampoo until it foams up and runs down your legs. His phone is going off in the other room, and you already know it's Namjoon blowing it up with messages and calls.

"He's turning into Hyuna," you say.

"And you turn into me by the scent of it."

"I like passion fruit."

And stealing his shampoo just because.

"Next you just rub on my aftershave and go."

You turn up the shower handle to increase temperature ever so slightly when the warmth of his kisses leaves your skin.

"I might. Just to see how Jimin recognizes it, he's been trying to tease me."

"About your perfume?"

"No, that I like your aftershave."

Yoongi tampers with the sponge from the shower tray and distributes a bit more shampoo on it.

"I can just wear more of it and don't care, does that solve the problem?"

"That'll probably make the air fresheners obsolete at SeoulTec."

"Are there actually any?"

"I've been asking myself the same, to be honest. One day we'll have pollution alert because of the subterranean fumes."

"Ah, we'll have to ask Taemin at maintenance about this. I'm sure he has an idea, Y/N."

"What I've been thinking is that there will be once car less down there, anyways."

Yoongi seems to understand. He brings the sponge up to your collarbone.

"Mine, I believe?"

"I can pick you up," you affirm. "Or if you like to spend more time around here, we'll go together, anyways. No guarantee that Tae's eyes won't fall out when he sees us arrive together on CCTV."

"It's only a matter of two weeks until the entire company knows," Yoongi squeezes the sponge to bring the foam out, and it bubbles down your breasts, then dissipates with the water stream from above. "Taehyung gets chatty at the cafeteria."

"Oh yeah, and especially now that Sunmi is there, I don't know. Can't really keep this a rumor," you shift in an attempt to get Yoongi to move his sponge around a bit more. "Or do you say that so everyone knows you belong to me?"

The blush that traces along his cheeks does not come from the high temperature in the bathroom, you are sure.

"I mean," he stammers. "Namjoon knows, Hyuna does, Taehyung, Jimin."

"Yes, I'm aware. It's like a chart for exponential growth. Or some domino effect. But I wanna know what you think."

Yoongi seems to compensate for a lack of reply with more sponge rubbing. Your chest is getting warmer and warmer from all the friction and hot water.

"I, uh."

"You think I have something against it when you want to show us off?"

"When you put it like that."

"If you reply to Namjoon later, I mean, do I care? And it's better if we don't lie about it in the first place. You think that would be good?"

Yoongi stops moving about now.

"No. Surely not," he puffs out. "I don't want to live a lie."

"It's not about showing off either. If people know, they know. Their opinion is out of reach for us," you shrug. "If they think we're show-offs, that's how they think. We're just together. What pretense is there. Except maybe the cars. Those are ritzy enough."

Yoongi starts giggling. You turn down the water temperature ever so slightly.

"I don't know about you," his lips go into a pout. "Taking public transport from Incheon to SeoulTec is hell and takes an hour. We're not going anywhere without fast cars. You commute a lot, of course you drive Porsche."

"If I stay at your home we can almost walk or take the subway."

"Mine? It's not as nice as your house."

The shower stream changes to cold a little. You've already warned him about how old the boiler in the basement is. He doesn't seem to bother the temperature change. It goes back to warm in ten seconds either way.

"What about it, are you piling designer drugs in there or something?"

Even after asking two times already, you remain curious. Yoongi has been reluctant to say much about his home.

"It's a bit spartan I guess."

"Hey, more place to fuck!"

"I don't even have a garden or a whirlpool somewhere. It's not homely either," Yoongi continues to scrub. "I wish I had a cozy armchair like that. My taste— sucks. There's nothing special about my place."

"Oh come on, isn't that the please the senses rule? You walk around with gel in your hair. No person like that has a shitty home."

"I try hard not to be boring like my house."

"Yoongi. You're a dirty liar. What are you saying," you cock your head to the side. He shrugs a little, finishes scrubbing. The stars gleam brighter outside, and the moon wanders, steady as always. You reach for the lotion to apply gently on Yoongi's backside after turning off the shower.

The familiar piano tune resounds. Nevermind. A few geometric architectures pass, alongside shops that Hyuna and Jimin like to frequent during the holidays. The lights of Cheongdam station illuminate the end of the street.

Namjoon hasn't been calling Yoongi today. Only Eonjin pops up in your email feed while you're going down Hannam bridge, joking about how everyone at Marketing seems to have relocated their offices into the cafeteria to get advice from Sunmi. Attached, a picture with the new interns smiling bright at today's second software launch press conference in Busan.

The event, she writes, has brought a lot of shareholders there, too. You reply congratulating, and with a question about how Jimin and his department are doing in the meantime. Other than that, there are no mails to drag around on the screen.

Yoongi's CLS takes a corner into a side street with guest houses, then enters a tunnel. The lights overhead almost fly since he can go faster on this lane, then fade once the end of the tunnel approaches. A big sign frames the exit.

Gangnam District.

Yoongi steers toward the northern area and talks about how he learned Taemin lives about two blocks away from his house just a few days ago. The piano piece comes to an end just before he parks in front of a glass facade, interlaced with concrete and stairwells in between, three levels high, yet still towering. A few plants form a guard of honor at the entrance.

"The cat has her time off, that's good," the car door clicks into its place after you shut it. Yoongi follows suit on the other side and presses the red lock button on his car keys. The turn signals flash once, then, the Mercedes falls asleep.

Yoongi opens the front door with a four-digit numeral code that seems familiar to you. He hesitates for quite a moment before typing it into the blue grid. So you realize: He's changed it recently. He looks at you, testing whether you saw the numbers. You're nodding.

"Does she like being alone?" he closes the door behind you.

Whatever Yoongi has done to prepare his house this morning before going to work, it primarily seems to have targeted what the rooms smell like.

He must have crawled around on every marble tile and parquet with a tiny paintbrush, coating the gaps with something suspiciously reminiscent of—

Sandalwood.

It's everywhere.

Not that he doesn't make you horny already.

"Alone? She can recover from all that scrubbing against your leg, her hair is falling out already. You're a fucking cat magnet."

"It's falling out? That is unintended!"

"I'm glad she likes you, though. Makes two of us."

"Ah," Yoongi exhales, and places the keys in a white little tray next to the cloakroom where you already pace about, looking for a good spot to hang up your spring coat. Eventually, you find a broad metal hanger, streamlined, to carry the light attire.

"And hey," you add, "it's not boring here."

"You have access 24/7 with the code now," Yoongi pulls off his black loafers, arranging them next to your shoes.

"That's a number I won't mess up."

"Unless I play piano or sleep, knocks on the door have quite an echo in here either way. I'll hear it."

"Oh yes. You don't like walls, do you?"

Even a brief look to the ceiling reveals the gallery on the third floor where a few statues protrude from the edge on wide pedestals, integrated into the balustrade. You never thought it could be this spacious judging by the facade.

"Walls? Just the ones inside you."

He pulls off his own trench coat, hangs it up next to yours.

"My walls is where you're headed, Min Yoongi. Cocky fuck."

"Hyuna's condoms got a special place, do you wanna see? Before they run out."

"Sure thing. Doesn't she send you and Taemin a new supply at every opportunity?"

"Pretty much," Yoongi takes the stairs, you joining parallel on the step. The entire stairwell has a modern slant to it, with wide pillars supporting a wooden handrail on both sides. "She should make a safer sex campaign or something."

"Or she just wants to make everyone have sex for the gossip."

Yoongi lifts a brow. You currently pass a bit in the staircase where slender poles of bamboo tower on the right side. The stems reach up from the basement where they firmly anchor in a raised bed. Behind the bamboo installment, you can see a box of glass embedded into the architecture. Awards, gleaming in platinum, bronze, and gold. About a dozen or more.

"I'm not sure," he murmurs. "She has this 'have fun, lovebirds' schtick."

"She says that to me as well!"

"Whatever she tries seems to be working."

"It's Hyuna," you say, taking the last step. "She'd be happy to know you found a good place for cupid's present."

"Oh, I hope so. Over here."

Yoongi points toward the other end of the room where the balustrade is. To your confusion, the only visible interior in this part of the room is a white pit, a few inches deep engraved into the floor, and dark blue cube structures scattered around, inside, or alongside it. The pit appears to be made of a smooth surface.

"What is that?"

"I told you it's boring."

"No, it looks interesting. Is that a sculpture as well?"

"Sort of. The cubes are depositories for various things. I can activate the whole thing if you want."

"Sure, go ahead. Does it have lights or something?"

"No, but this."

Yoongi claps his hands two times. A sensor at the ceiling flashes up in yellow, then rotates. You can hear some sort of pattering noise coming from the cubes inside the pit.

And then, water starts to spring up from the upper edges of them. The pit on the floor catches the surge and distributes it evenly in the room. It is not simply a hollow in the ground, but a flat basin. Yoongi heads to one of the larger, inactive cubes on the edge of the pit while you are still frozen stiff.

"What!"

"I figured that the third floor needed a bit of decoration," he opens the structure at the side to reveal simple drawers. While he rummages, you step forward and pull your socks off, twirl through the room tip-toed. Gangnam's clear sky outside makes for a good scenery. The beaming skycrapers don't annoy you as they are usually prone to on other days.

You're cheering.

"Oh, you put the Rome in Romeo!"

"Rome? Because it's an aqueduct?"

"No, this is the Trevi Fountain."

He's grinning a little, and picks out a condom from the drawer.

"You don't even need a coin spare to get lucky in here," his eyes follow your path through the room now.

"My whirlpool is a joke against this. What's next, a sauna? A tennis court on the roof?"

"That's the only special feat I have in here. Your pool is much cozier and romantic."

"The only one?"

"The rest is glass and concrete," he shrugs. "Was a hasty time I got this built."

"Liar, you have statues over there! And the, uh, bamboo thing! Where are the statues from, anyways? Holy shit!"

You wonder whether it is some Olympian, perhaps Olympic type of figure on the right sight of the balustrade. It sure looks like it. Full nude, athletic body. Chiseled into perfection. SeoulTec's crane in the foyer looks like a bad joke compared to it.

"Present. I was just glad someone had a better taste than I did," Yoongi tears open the condom. You head back to him now, feet leaving wet blotches on the floor behind you.

"May I ask who it was?"

"Namjoon."

"Really?"

"It was for my birthday two years ago."

"Are you sure you're fucking the right person?"

His eyes are downcast. You glance down to Yoongi's hands peeling the Magnum.

"Time flies."

"I'm jealous of him. You know Namjoon since forever. You're a good team."

"We have a lot to catch up with," he exhales. You can see the tension creep up his torso. "I thought— the same about Seokjin and you."

You swallow. It's a bitter taste in your mouth. You don't feel like cheering anymore.

"Yes. We have. That's a draw," you reach your hand to shake his. The water of the cubes keeps on pattering. "Two jealous fucks with missing years."

He squeezes your palm. Still no eye contact. He looks at the statues instead.

"Cheers to that."

He keeps on fixating on the statues. You exhale. There are a thousand and one feelings in his gaze.

"Namjoon took your virginity, didn't he."

"There was a bet. And a lot of soju involved."

"Time really flies."

You let go of the handshake. Yoongi rubs the back of his neck.

"It does. Even managed to get sober."

"Maybe you would have been a good drinking buddy when I was busy crying over Seokjin."

Pause.

Something changes.

Yoongi looks beyond indignant now. Even against the sound of the fountain, he's almost yelling.

"What! He made you cry? Seokjin?"

"I have to blame myself for that," you stroke a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Really now?"

"It's been years," you tremble. "I didn't realize he was about to be, well. Engaged when I asked him," you knead your palms together. It's if as the feeling of back then returns. "I was already hesitant. Thought it would mess with work. In the end, it messed with it more because I hesitated. I did move on after we got tied up in the tax scandal rumors. Had no other choice. But I didn't feel good at that time. Jin's wife still resents me. She said I'm a homewrecker. I couldn't have known about her."

The tenderness returns to Yoongi's voice.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Doesn't that mean, you said you couldn't have known! Don't blame yourself."

"Maybe it was better that they went to Gwangju. Although— I went through hell offering the vacancy. I thought ill of you as well. Thank Jimin for insisting we avertise the job opening."

Yoongi chucks the open condom back into the drawer. The cube closes without noise. The water keeps on running.

"You had several good reasons at that time to think ill of me," Yoongi says.

"It wasn't the spy thing. I was just quick to assume things because I messed it up last time."

He shakes his head. His voice becomes firm again.

"Don't say that, Y/N. You didn't mess it up. You were still a good team regardless with Jin. And you didn't assume things. Namjoon's mistake made you think the number was correct. You had a reason."

All you can do is sigh out, but the water swallows the sound.

"Code 19— It became more than that. It became, something like, a convenient reason to get rid of you. So I wouldn't have to deal with the same issue all over again. I got the same dangerous feeling once your CV was on my desk. I didn't know I was wrong about everything. I was too stupid."

"I would have done the same in your stead. Don't castigate yourself. You have a lot of responsibility."

"It's easy for you to say that. But you didn't hear the shit I said to Jimin. I said I'll beat you up and drag you out. I called you a clown, too. I said all these things. To everybody. And then I agreed to chase your car into Hannam with the girls. Do you understand? I was ready to hand you to the police... We almost killed Hyuna on the street because we were reckless. Heck, I told entire deparments bullshit about you!"

"Well... Not complaining."

You fall comepletely blank.

"Huh?"

"You thought I broke the law, after all. My reputation you don't have to worry about."

"Why?"

"I get it strategically ruined every four months or so, this is secretary business," he nervously rubs his wrists down his legs. "But in this case, all things were clarified, weren't they? I have nothing to complain about. Everybody knows I went undercover by now. And that Hoseok was the real perpetrator. Why do you have a bad conscience, everything turned out fine!"

"Doesn't change I did that stuff. I look like a fool. And you were innocent."

"Y/N, listen to me," he cups your shoulders with his hands now. "If you were a bad CEO, SeoulTec would be in ruins by now. The opposite is the case. And we got together. If you called me names, then you did. None of us can change that. Nobody likes a spy in their enterprise. Especially when a lot of sacrifices were made for it in the past. It wasn't wrong to take the Code 19 alert seriously. It's my fault, and Namjoon's, that we didn't inform you correctly. We're the fools. That was careless. We fucked up times more and caused you all this mess. If you would beat me up and kick me out? I'd deserve it."

"No. All you did was miss out on a detail in the Code 19 email. That was not deliberate."

"I'm sure we did something very wrong when we managed to cause you and the girls to drive to Hannam. Some stuff must have happened for me to appear that untrustworthy to you."

"Well... I thought you kidnapped Namjoon because his social media died. And that you installed cameras in my office. I was also mad that Taehyung gave you access to the subterranean password without asking me since the vault is down there."

Yoongi sighs, hands gliding off your shoulders.

"Ditto. It's just like I said. Assistant Min Yoongi made a very bad first impression, posed as a traitor, and left his boss completely in the dark about it. I carry the can."

Now it's your voice that goes through the roof.

"Ditto you say? That was just me being paranoid! And blowing everything out of proportion! Jimin probably thinks of me as Seoul's number one imbecile. I wanted to fire him! Can you imagine that, Yoongi? Firing the guy who hired you and saved our plan with Di-On? You're dating a first class idiot!"

Pause.

Yoongi's shoulders are visibly shrinking together under the weight of your words.

"That, that's a draw, Y/N," he soothes to assuage you. "We're even. Okay. That was... both subpar. But it's useless to feel guilty now. Everything's in the past. There is no need to bring yourself down. You know that it's not good for you. Please. Do you understand that? I don't want my girlfriend to hate herself. Nothing of what you said harmed me at the end. I'm alright. And if you still think you are an idiot — it takes two to tango. I was very stupid, too. I made you fear for someone else's life and the safety of the entire company. That's even worse than making you cry. I'm a shithead. I hardly deserved when you said you want to invite me to your house and spend time. I have to be very grateful for your trust. It must have been twice as hard to open up again after what happened with Seokjin, and Lexcom. And Yongsang. Everything. You're crafted of steel and still let me in. How can I not be grateful. Y/N."

He claps his hands twice. The fountain ceases almost immediately. You fell silent, too.

"This place... isn't good for us, Y/N. Downstairs. Come," Yoongi breaks the quiet after a minute, offering his arm for you to link with. "We both have to make our amendments. But we'll eat, first."

You hook into the angle of his elbow and whisper a little okay.

Yoongi guides you toward the stairwell again. The tension loosens around this shoulders.

The little rice cooker steams and puffs every other minute, but it's not loud enough to disturb the music in the room. Yoongi's hands waltz across the keyboard, bringing the lighthearted melody to life. He was right that the house carries an echo quite well. It's a good way to pass the twenty minutes until the rice is boiled enough. Despite its lean and simple design, your chair is quite comfortable. It naturally rocks a bit back and forth, too.

On the kitchen counter, accompanied by several Santoku kitchen knives in a granite block, several types of sprouts, zucchini, and a small pile of watercress wait to be mixed into the pan where a sauce now simmers just enough to stay warm on the gas stove, all while letting the spices and herbs that Yoongi mixed into them earlier infuse the decoction. The sky outside remains crystal clear as before. Seoul is vibrant.

When Yoongi gets up from the grand piano and joins you in the kitchen to put white porcelain bowls on the table, about half the house has taken up the smell.

"How hungry are you?" he gazes across his shoulder while stirring the zucchini pieces into the pan using a wire wisk.

"It's like— as if I skipped lunch break and didn't visit Sunmi's stall combined."

"No problem Ma'am, I used three cups of rice instead of one today."

Now, the watercress disappears inside the sauce, all while Yoongi turns the gas influx button and the circular blue flames dim a bit more. The rice cooker starts to jingle just a minute later.

"Shame we can't order stuff from Sunmi's takeout anymore since she moved," Yoongi says, filling the bowls. "But if this is only half as tasty, we should be alright. I hope you like it."

After handing you chopsticks, he sits down at the opposite side of the square teak table, now rocking back and forth as well.

"The only close delivery is Wang's restaurant," you mix some of the rice into the sauce. It's nice and sticky. "I don't want to know what my employees think about having to order there now when Sunmi is not available in the cafeteria."

"Betrayal, I'd rather starve, hah!" Yoongi wildly gesticulates with his chopsticks, imitating Hyuna's voice and mannerism. You've rarely seen him act silly this way. Your laugh may be surprised, but genuinely entertained.

"Sunmi will be installing a new delivery service in two months if it goes on like that. She gets Taehyung to drive the Honda around or something. We had a food supply shortage last Monday and Thursday. People really love the sandwiches."

Yoongi ruffles his hair and puts a napkin into the V-neck of his shirt.

"She is busy. Hope I'm a worthy substitute cook until then. Personal Cruise Rice Delivery right here."

"I think it tastes good. Is that part of secretary training?"

"It's not a part, it's a must. At least for me. Secretaries are the modern day knights," Yoongi ours himself some water now, then fills your glass, too.

"Oh, you mean people think they have just one task but actually—"

"They have to be good at everything, yes. You got it. It's like being Miss Moneypenny."

You have to chuckle to yourself. If only he knew.

"If you keep it up like this, I'll make you my Squire then."

"Yes, Lady Y/N," he makes a tip on his invisible hat. "Any wishes? We still have desert coming up."

"Methinks something with fruit."

"Oh yes! Fruit is a good choice."

"I won't eat all the rice and get full until then, I promise."

"If you like— Got a bunch of strawberries from the market yesterday," he nods toward the fridge. "You're lucky."

The chrome dishwasher rumbles and churns alongside a continuous pumping noise. There's a lot to rinse down. Yoongi said it's one of the few times he won't do it by hand.

By now, the sun has disappeared behind the skyscrapers. On a walnut wood tray, you light an oil lamp and some incense in the living room where three chairs and a sofa center loosely around the piano. Even if the herbal note of the sauce still lingers in the air, the familiar aftershave scent begins to become more prominent after Yoongi returns from the bathroom on the third floor. It mixes with the sage, neroli, and amber of the incense quite seamlessly, making the air thick with aroma.

"Oh, aphrodisiac," Yoongi hums, eyeing the incense box you chose from his petite collection.

"Strawberries also classify as such, don't they."

Yoongi confirms, already looseing his V-neck a bit. A bit of a tan line is visible where his collar normally is.

"We're having a good evening, Y/N."

The dishwasher thrums a bit in the background now. You put the charred matches that you used for the lamp and incense back into their little blue box.

"How about I fuck you on that piano?"

"Thought about it. But probably a safety risk and not so, uh, comfortable. I know Rule IV applies here since it's your preference, but Rule Number II and III are more important."

His face makes you coo. "That's a lot of thought you put into that, hm. Did someone fantasize?"

"One of my knightly duties is to think of ways to indulge you."

"Which other ways did you think of? I hope I could persuade you it's not boring here."

"I think you accomplished that. But it's mostly because of your presence."

"Flattering me a lot today, are you."

"By all means, you're my guest."

Again, the invisible hat tip.

"Thank you for hosting me. I really like this house. I don't say this to be polite. It really looks good."

"Oh right, the other ways!"

"Yes, tell me. I'm curious."

"There's, well— Let's see. A TV room on the basement level that has a very smooth furniture landscape, it's very easy to clean, too. Then there's the rooftop, uh, and the bathroom, third floor, with an antique tub. I sleep on the first floor, it's a plain room, however."

You ponder for a moment, then lift the oil lamp and incense on their little tray with either hand.

"We pick that one."

"The bedroom, yes?"

You're already heading toward the stairwell downwards, balancing your cargo with care so the lamp won't fade out.

"Whatever you say is plain almost always turns out to be quite spectacular."

Yoongi's cock is hard against the base of your spine. His hands shift alongside your waist a little when you gyrate back on him. The streamlined chaise longue is velvety enough to allow unrestricted movement. You face the side of the house where Yoongi's bedroom admits a broad view onto the Han River. Little car lights, illuminated bus windows, and the ubiquitous neon bling on the horizon paint the surface of the river like a movie. You imagine how its ripples and larger waves translate to your hip movement.

Whatever it does to him, Yoongi's speech center seems to have drifted off to another dimension.

"This is— I got, how's your ass, Y/N? From the pavilion. I mean!"

You purposely press your butt cheeks to either side of his erection, encompassing him. Meanwhile, your core strains on his nimble lap, enjoying its warmth.

"Still feel your dick inside. Phantom sensation. Or maybe it did break off and stayed in there. Who knows. The ways of the world."

You turn, stick your tongue out at him.

"What, uh?"

"I'm kidding. It's all normal. Anal works for me. Your dick has a good shape for it."

"Oh, eh, good. Good. That's very good. Tremendous. Yeah."

You halt your movement while he keeps on babbling and smoothing over your waist.

"Romeo."

"Hm? Yes?"

"Don't let my ass turn your brain to mush so early. We didn't have soju or anything."

"Nn—no. Right."

"And yet, my host acts drunk."

Drunk on ass.

"You're just, just so beautiful tonight."

"Maybe you're more susceptive to incense. That must be it. Aphrodisiac much. Or are there actual designer drugs in the bathroom, huh?"

The tray is quite close to the chaise longue and infuses the air with more aroma by the minute. You make a mental note of it. Yoongi's fingers at your hip and belly seek more friction now.

"I love, really love. Incense," he whispers, mouth hanging half open. "It's smoking. Hot. Like you, boss."

"M-hm. Should I torch your cock, you have to say something, though. Could melt the condom off."

You resume gyrating. Yoongi, more by chance than deliberation, starts dripping saliva on his naked chest. And there it is again.

As if by automatism, his hands wander from your hip already. Downwards.

"Don't care if you burn me. I just, wanna. Make your pussy a waterfall."

"Good thing that'll douse down your cock."

"Yes. Yes, Mistress."

"I'll see how much of a pounding your balls can take today. They have a lot of clit service to do. I like when they slap against me."

"Clit service is a secretary's favorite."

Almost parallel to his words, Yoongi's finger tips follow suit on your labia. They are a lot less eratic by now. You find yourself rutting against them in a matter of second to seize the opportunity. His hands will shake soon enough.

"We're playing nutcracker. Let's hope I don't split your two friends in quarters today. Or is that what you're going for?"

Furious nods. Yoongi's drool trickles to either side of his loins. His eyes are glossy and big, gleaming with the night life of Seoul in then at you from behind his fringe.

"AB."

You squeeze your ass onto his lap so snug, Yoongi gasps out. Dirty boss mode activated. You're flashing provocative eyes at him.

"I'll crack you apart like a passion fruit on a Santoku, you fucking greedy whore."

"Please, please, yes Y/N—"

"Gouge out the seeds. Stir it up. Make some juice for me. How's that."

"Take it. Take as much as you want."

Your palm takes the familiar spot on his girth. Good thing you always have the vein for orientation purposes.

"Can I?"

"You can."

"Roll the condom on Yoonie, it's time for a a chopping."

"I do like your floors. All of them in their own way."

Yoongi bumbles and sways in his seat as a response. You twist the incense stick into the tray's mold where most of the ashes had gathered during the evening. Outside, the glowing outlines of the skyscrapers start fading, window by window where people wander to bed equally late, headed for a rough upcoming day.

Seated at the edge of the grey box-shaped bed, half twirled into the white sheets with his legs, Yoongi finishes replying to a few emails and messages on his phone, then stores his phone under the cube-shaped nightstand, alarm clock set to 6:15 AM, and looks up.

"Glad you do."

"It's very well-designed. I bet the TV room is just as nice. Yes, my home's cozy but—"

"I do still like yours better."

"I really wanna know why you're so stubborn about this."

"It's sterile here, I just don't like it as much as I used to."

After finishing up the tray, you button down one of Yoongi's spare shirts. As most things in his wardrobe, it sports only black and white. He is intent more than ever when you sit down next to him, however, even in the dim light the emerging bags under his eyes are somewhat visible. From the nightstand, you pick up a water bottle and hand it to him.

"But, can we have our breakfast on that landscape thing you mentioned?"

"Everything is possible," Yoongi unscrews the cap. "Is there anything you want from the bakery? It's around the corner."

"If it's not Sunmi's pastry and cakes, what's the point?"

"Then I will personally call her and pay extra."

He starts drinking. You finish buttoning down the shirt. It's softer than you thought on the inside.

"I'm messing around, the bakeries in Gangnam are nice. Anything with mocha or red bean flavor, if you find something."

After placing the bottle on your side of the bed again, Yoongi takes up the sheets to slip underneath them now.

"Red bean? Definitely a good choice."

You follow, patting the extra pillow that Yoongi got from the basement into the right shape before lying down. Yoongi claps one time to switch off the light bar at the ceiling. Only Seoul's moon is left now, illuminating half of the room through the large glass front from between three skyscrapers.

"What do you like, Yoongi?" you ask, voice dulcet now. You hear him ponder for a moment.

"I think, Soboro bread."

"Because of the strawberry jam you can put on top, isn't it."

Your tone is playful. Yoongi wiggles himself into the blanket now, his legs reaching a bit to your side of the bed so you can intertwine your own with them.

"Almost. Not quite. The guess was pretty good though."

"The inside— is soft like my ass. That must be it."

Yoongi shakes his head. It ruffles his hair into the fabric of the pillow.

"Which bread can compete with your ass when it comes to softness?"

You try again.

"Okay... Is it because of the streusels is has?"

"Nope."

"Hm. Running out of guesses, honestly. One nil for you."

"The thing about Soboro bread is," he scrambles closer, ribald now. "You can fill it up with fresh cream."

"Ohh."

"It tastes the best for me that way."

"I wasn't entirely wrong about guessing it has to do with my ass."

"True. It's nil-nil again."

"Your guessing games are quite fun. We need some fresh cream for breakfast tomorrow."

"Definitely. Was fun today, too."

"Yes. Sleep well, you've been looking very tired."

"Couldn't rest last night, I was a bit nervous."

"Because I'd come here?"

"Kind of. I don't know."

Sighing out loud was not your intent. But it being so late and your body so lax, it escapes you without much of a filter.

"Come on. You don't have to be a full-time genius or whatever. That's madness. You already thought a lot about how to host me. I like all of this here. You cooked well. We had a lot of conversation. Sex was amazing. You're amazing. When it comes down to it— I don't need much. Just food, a solid roof over my head. And you. Don't worry about all the rest."

"I'll try next time. I just wasn't sure if you like it here. Even the bedroom and so."

"No, Yoongi. It's more important that you like it here. It's your home. I need to be assured you feel comfortable in your own skin, in your own life, you know. If you say it's just nice when I'm here. What happens when I'm busy elsewhere, and you're in this place feeling shitty all day? That can't be right."

Yoongi's voice turns a little shaky now.

"There are— some odd memories attached to this house, I guess."

And there it is.

Silence reigns for a minute until you clap your hands to switch on the dimmer again. The light bar illuminates the room when you sit up and look him in the eye.

"It's because of that," you say, "isn't it. Why you hesitated to go here with me."

"Yes."

"And why you said this place isn't good for us. Even though it's the most tastefully made house I've ever seen."

He sniffles a little, says nothing. You entangle your fingers with his on his chest. You see a tear well in the corner of his eye.

"I know that— I know, moving on is hard," you say, filling in the silence after another passing minute. "If you— See, there's an empty armchair in Incheon. And a cat who likes you, too. It might get a little stuffy in the garage with too cars, but, if you pack a bag after breakfast, we can be right there after work already. I'm serious now. You need to get the fuck out of here. I see how you look at the statues. This is suffocating you. If you'd rather sit on my porch with me right now instead of lying in your damn own designer bed, then we both know where it is best for us. If you hate the house, I'll start hating it, too. We'll stay in Incheon."

"Can I really do that, Y/N?"

"We'll somehow get the piano over there as well. I'll call up Orbit Five, they have a service for that. It's of no use if you don't feel well here. Things won't get better just because I'm around. We could ask Taemin to check up on your house if that's okay. I mean he lives close, he passes Cheongdam every morning. I'd be happy to host dinner for two tomorrow night. And— the day after tomorrow. How often you feel like it. Okay? Say something."

"It's okay with me."

"You don't have to force yourself through this here to accomodate me, and think the new memories will overwrite shit from the past. I shouldn't have asked about visiting your house so much. I really thought you genuinely didn't think it was worth it because it would be too lackluster to bother or something. Should have seen the warning signs."

"No, it's alright. I can pack some things together. I'm sorry for this. But maybe you're right."

"Don't apologize. My apartment is nice enough for three. I look after the details."

"I'll cook the dinner. Taemin gets my front door code."

"Alright. Just so you know. We'll take it easy after work."

You slide your hand out of his now.

"Thank you again. I don't take it for granted."

"I'm looking forward to dinner."

"Me, too."

"Sleep now, we'll bother with the rest tomorrow."

One clap and the light bar fades into the obscure of the ceiling again. Outside, the city smog has waned. Stars, billions of them, some bright, some barely visible, some twinkling, some stark, splatter on the ecliptic rising from behind the river and skyline.

"You're the best, Y/N."

"Life is like chess. Where there's a knight, there's also a queen."

"Who's king? The cat?"

"SeoulTec."

"Oh. That makes sense."

"We talk at work. I'd fuck you to sleep but it's getting too late by now. Can't do anything."

"Oh right, Rule Number V."

You nod, then press a kiss on his forehead.

"Good night, Romeo. Don't sweat things. I'll handle this."

The jacuzzi keeps on bubbling and chortling. To your ears, Sunmi's Honda engine sounds tame compared to it. Yoongi however finds it amusing how the old ghastly pump rattles around and makes the brim of the entire contruction vibrate. At the push of a button, you activate the water nozzles to whirl the water back and forth a little while you both try to balance tall, chalice-shaped glasses above the water, scooping strawberry sorbet out of it.

"Let's hope the cat doesn't get curious again. She hopped in here last time I was trying to relax. One wet pussy is enough in here."

Yoongi can't swallow properly and almost gets some sorbet in his airways from laughing.

"She even tipped over the shampoo bottle. Into the water! Took five days until she started to smell like actual cat again," you go on, stirring the sundae a bit.

"It wasn't something like— passion fruit shampoo, then?"

"No, a perfumed one. Nasty stuff when you use too much of it."

"Oh god."

"Oh cat you mean! Christie. She's one of a kind."

You raise your brows into the direction where her little basket is tucked into a corner. Yoongi finishes up his sorbet and seems to look a little serious by then.

"About that... Can I ask you a question?" he says.

"Well, anything."

"It might be a little, say, private."

He fiddles with his spoon.

You let your legs float with the pulse of the water nozzles quite casually.

"We may or may not be in my private realms here at Incheon, Cheonseok Road fifteen. Let me in your life and such."

"Well, uh. I don't want to embarrass you with it. But I have to ask."

“Yes?"

"You said Christie... Is that related to Christie S. Kwon? Someone signed up on my website. With that name. I—"

Now you're the one to cough up on the sorbet.

You completely forgot about that.

The subscription.

You reach out of the jacuzzi to put the empty sorbet chalice down, and gather yourself.

"That, yes. Is my online alter ego."

"Oh!"

“Say, um, I got inspired by the cat. You know I was a bit undercover, you know myself. I was researching about the Six Rules and such. Just, being discreet with it. I couldn't possibly pick my own name."

Yoongi shrugs.

"Yes, that's no problem? I was just wondering if there was a connection."

You breathe out the relief now.

"But, how did you actually get a sense it was related? Can't pride myself with a software safety premise when I'm that transparent just making an account.”

The corner of Yoongi's mouth rise into a lingering crescent now. He licks the sorbet from the corners of his lips.

“Taehyung. He has the exact same sunrise picture at his desk. As a greeting card, I guess. Or some photograph with your name on it.”

You have to laugh. Of course. The sunrise. Taehyung, forever the nostalgic, never bothers removing old cards from his pinboard.

"Oh gosh. That was 2014 when we formed the team. You want cards, too? Everybody gets one now and then, I make them myself."

"That sounds nice. Sure thing! I've been planning to personalize the secretary room anyways, with some things here and there."

"Ah, that fits."

"You're a good influence for my taste in things. The sunrise icon struck me in the first place because it was well-shot."

"By the way. Am very happy with my subscription. Good site."

"Any plans to prolong the subscription? It has to be renewed every now and then, just for the algorithm."

"Rule Number VI applies here."

"Choose well and commit."

"Your file has proven to be immaculate in every detail."

"Then, happy birthday, boss. I'll be your trophy boyfriend."

do not repost, modify, or translate without permission. mentioned car brands: No endorsements, infringements, tarnishments, and dilutions intended. they are for descriptive purposes only. © 2017-2019 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved.

#yoongi fanfic #yoongi smut #bts fanfic #sub!yoongi #yoongi x reader #trophy boyfriend #yoongi oneshot #bts smut #yoongi #bts fics #yoongi fics #yoongi x you #bts reader insert #bts oneshot #yoongi au #bts au #bts x reader #yoongi fanfics #bts fanfics #min yoongi #bts #bangtan #sub!bts #bts fic #suga #sub-bts-network #original content

[monohart]

clouds. (college!au)

ft. mark lee, sunny days and the brink of adolescence.

dating the campus’ radio dj was not an easy job

he was always, always busy, especially in the evenings.

he was exempted from 2/3 of his classes this semester to fit in broadcasting sessions and also to mentor the new broadcasters.

apparently they recruited a freshman, jisung. but he was a shy little bean, and mark needed to spend a lot more hours mentoring him.

which kinda meant that you would spend less time with your boyfriend

thankfully, y’all had similar classes.

there was this one class which was a capstone subject

which meant if u want to graduate u HAD to take it lol

and he aced all of the assessments in that subject so far this year

but you were just a bit competitive, so with exams coming, you planned to score a higher grade than him

which.. was an easy job, right? he spent most of his nights hosting the radio show anyway.

it both bugged and made you so extremely proud that mark was already getting proper job offers from major broadcasting channels

like when he got his first offer, he actually just finished a broadcast at around 3am, and was on the way back home

but he read the email on his phone and took a detour to your apartment

which scared the sh*t out of you

mark its almost 4am you could’ve just sent me a text??

“i don’t care i just needed to tell you this in person, oh my goodness is this even real????”

idk mark you tell me???

it was real, because he started getting offer after offer in the following week

but thankfully he didn’t pop by your place in the middle of the night again, after that first time

because you actually let him stay over that night and -

he held you in his arms as he leant against your headboard

and you just used him as a pillow because he you made him take a quick shower and he smelt of your soap but he still smelled of him and it was a comforting scent which sent you off the dreamland real quick

and he actually watched you fall asleep and made sure you were asleep before he pulled out his laptop to work on an assignment that was due the next day

when you woke up the next morning, you felt something cold and hard prod your back and you panicked for a moment before realising it was his laptop

and you heard the shower running so you knew it was mark going through his morning routine

but then you thought.... did he even sleep?

when he hopped out of the bathroom clad in same the clothes he wore the night before, he was still drying his hair with a towel

and his face was strew with exhaustion

but as soon as he saw you sitting groggily on the edge of your bed, his face lit up and he strode over to kiss the top of your head

“mark, did you even sleep?”

“nope, but i’m off again, i’ve got to hand in my assignment! i’ll see you for lunch?”

“wait what assignment?? did you need help on it?”

“nope, i got it done last night! thanks for letting me crash.”

before you could stop him, he pressed a hasty kiss on your lips before grabbing his laptop and bag and rushed out the door

and you sigh because

this was how dating mark lee, the campus dj, was like.

anyway

now, you guys were just a few days away from finishing the semester’s classes

and this was your last semester... given if you’ll pass the exams lol

so it was kinda the last few days you’d be able to spend together, on campus.

summer was coming

and the sun was so bright these days, it cleared the skies

no rain, none at all

which was not entirely Great because rainy days helped you study... and rainy days also meant more people tuned in on the campus radio

which meant

mark was kinda jobless today

which ALSO meant!!!

you could finally spend a whole day with him.

but, oh man...

when he called you around 11pm the night before, he was also checking his email and ... accidentally forgot that he had another assignment due at 8am the following morning

guess who didn’t get any sleep at all again!!!

your heart hurt seeing him work so hard

but somehow he convinced you to go to sleep first and not stay up to help him

he still got the assignment in on time because hes mark lee

so when you guys sat on the lawn in the middle of campus just like any typical college couple would on a nice sunny day, mark lay his head on your lap and used one of your textbooks to shield his eyes from the sun

and you were using his laptop to compile your notes from the semester, and also to help him tidy up his

“hey baby...?”

“hmm?”

you waited for mark to continue his sentence but he went silent

“mark, what?”

“mark-”

you lifted your textbook from his face only to find that he had fallen asleep.

his lips were slightly parted and he was snoring really quietly, and his fingers were in loose fists as they rested on his belly.

dont deny but you busted the biggest uwu didnt you

ofc like

you couldn’t possibly waste this precious photo opportunity but

your phone was just slightly out of reach rip

so when you grappled for it, mark woke up in an instant

he sat up real quick, and a tuft of his hair was sticking up messily.

“oh no, i didnt mean to-”

“so d’you wonder why we’re all clouds?”

you stared at each other with equally as confused frowns lol

like mark was actually

hella confused

but your expression literally read wtf

he didn’t really notice but instead yawned and held his arm out to you

and you move closer to him, snuggling into his side as he slowly lays the both of you down again, in a way so you could use his arm as a pillow.

the sun was really really bright so y’all lay there with your eyes squished shut

“we’re all just clouds, aren’t we?”

his serious question was met by your quiet scoff

“no, no, i’m for real. y’know how everything we do are for exams. exams this, assignments that... gpa... scores.. grades... deadlines... those kinda things. they turn us into clouds.”

“that is one extremely weird way to describe college students, mark.”

“no, baby, but... it’s accurate, isn’t it? the anxiety, stress, exhaustion... and just about everything we do turn us all into little clouds.”

“do elaborate, cause i don’t get why you’re comparing us to condensed water vapour.”

mark chuckled a little, and you roll your eyes figuratively, keeping your eyes tightly shut to shield it from the unforgiving sun.

"actually, never mind, it sounded way better in my head.”

at that point you were getting up to lie on your side

he turned his head and squinted at you as you gently placed a hand on his chest

"are you writing lyrics again?”

he hummed quietly and you shift a few inches closer to him.

“show me. i want to read those lyrics, no matter how dumb you think they are.”

“they’re not ready yet.”

“if you’re writing about anxiety, i can be your muse.”

“no way, you’re not a cloud. you’re a sunflower.”

he wrote lyrics all the time and most of the time he’d write them about you

sometimes he’d let you read them, sometimes he kept them to himself

and you’d catch him grinning idiotically over some lyric he wrote some time ago

so when he goes to sleep you would sneak a peak at it and it’s basically a love letter to first-date-you, or a diary entry of how he feels every time he sends u home from a date or from school but its so dreamy and seems unreal but you kNOW ITS REAL!!

bc u were there!!

anyway 

idk what came over you but you slung an arm around his torso and rested your head against his shoulder and he let out a quiet little puff of breath

you would think he’s pretty ok with skinship since y’all been together for so long

but yeah it was chill and okay and he’d be super clingy at home but when y’all were in public

man,,, he got so flustered and nervous

u just wanted to cuddle lol but he suddenly turned into a robot

the sun made everything seem slow and warm and sluggish which was pretty okay with you because you were finally spending time with mark!!!

and he was soft and squishy and a little bit awkward but so so so cute so u rly just wanted the moment to last longer

but no

just as u were about to drift off a Shadow™ loomed over u both

mark probably fell asleep again tbh

u heard a rly loud camera go CLICK and distinct voices whisper-yelling at each other

and there was a struggle

and the struggle ended with a Butt falling onto mark’s other shoulder

“MARK IM SO SORRY RENJUN PUSHED ME”

“NO YOU STINK YOU FELL BY YOURSELF”

“oh hey guys shut up the photo turned out alright”

“JENO SHUT UP THEY’RE RIGHT THERE”

mark was sitting up and you fussed over his other shoulder which was attacked by jaemin’s butt

and although he was so .. unfortunately.. woken up from his nap he was grinning and squinting up at his squabbling friends

and he chuckled as he watched u stand up and wrestle jeno for his phone to see the Photo

he was watching you chase chenle and renjun around the lawn, the two boys purposefully running slower to tease u

donghyuck sat down next to mark and put his head on his shoulder to mimic you from a few minutes ago

“oh you’re disgusting please go away.”

hyuck turned his head and batted his eyelashes up at mark who was still watching u with a dreamy smile

“you’re leaving soon, we just wanted to spend time with you before u abandon us”

mark laughed and told him he’s only graduating

but hyuck scowled and nudged mark with his elbow then gestured in your direction

“but you spend more time with her nowadays than you do with us”

mark let out a loud laugh and shook his head

“she’s my girlfriend.”

“so?”

“she’s my lover.”

“so??”

“she’s... everything to me.”

jisung, who was listening, gagged and haechan slapped mark’s tummy while hollering

and then u look over at them from the other side of the lawn, wondering why mark was lying on the floor again and why the other dreamies were surrounding him in a cultish circle

jeno and jaemin turned to face you with big chummy smiles on their faces and together they made heart arms at u

some other people on the lawn were beginning to stare and so u hide behind chenle bc renjun is too tiny

then jisung must’ve texted their group chat because renjun cackles and leads you back to the group

and u notice how bright mark’s face was which makes u blush like crazy as well

and even though stress from school, work and everything in general, was making u feel like a big and heavy raincloud

one look at mark lee made u feel like sunflowers and daisies

it totally didn’t help that when he’d look at you, the corners of his eyes would crinkle ever so slightly, and his eyes would shine with genuine adoration

and his cute little lips would stretch into the widest grin

uwu

and u bet the next batch of lyrics he gonna write is gonna be about you again!!

#mark lee #mark #nct mark #nct 127 #nct u #nct dream #mark fluff #mark scenarios #mark imagines #nct #nct 2018 #lee minhyung #nct minhyung #college au #nct college au #mark college au #nct mark fluff #nct mark scenarios #nct mark imagines #boyfriend au #mark boyfriend #nct fluff #nct 127 fluff #nct u fluff #nct dream fluff

[simstationdance]

@jeebie-sims​ asked: for the headcanon meme: Daniel Pleasant, Johnny Smith, and Mortimer Goth

ok so i apparently had a lot to say about these three, especially johnny and mortimer because they are favorites of mine. i was also inspired by the pictures u put in your answers to the shipping asks, so i decided to pair a few pictures with my answers.

i would’ve answered this as a regular ask, but for some reason, applying a read more to an ask applies it to the ‘question’ part of the post and not the actual body of the post where it should be, and not actually truncating the post at all. i couldn’t fix it no matter what i tried and eventually i gave up. tumblr is a Functional Website.

answers under the cut because i’m a turbo nerd who wrote way too much. i hope you enjoy it nonetheless

(headcanon ask meme)

Daniel Pleasant

Sexuality Headcanon: straight

Gender Headcanon: man

A ship I have with said character: daniel x marriage counseling. no, really.

ok but in all seriousness, it’s obvious that dan and mary sue really really need to work their shit out and i don’t think they could do it easily, if at all. if nothing else, they’d stay together for their public image I MEAN their kids whom they clearly love sooo muuuch 

(meanwhile i’m certain angela and lilith - especially lilith - would rather their parents divorced because the tension in the house is so fucking thick you could cut it with a knife, and that’s not a healthy environment to grow up in)

i don’t really ship him with anybody, to be honest. i know he’s with kaylynn on the side but i don’t personally see her sticking around, especially in the aftermath of a destroyed marriage.

unless he actually gets his shit together, i can’t imagine him being able to fully commit to a relationship, as evidenced by his abysmal relationship with his own wife.

A BROTP I have with said character: hmmm. maybe dan and don would be friends? i mean, they’re both cheaters, and they’d become social pariahs for it, but they’d be in it together, at least. meanwhile, their respective marital exes can get together to actually have a happy relationship.

for all i know, don might’ve actually convinced dan to take the plunge into debauchery in the first place. like he was like “don’t you miss when you were a carefree bachelor, dan?” and dan’s like “yeah man i miss that life” because its obvious he’s going thru a mid life crisis, so don basically encourages him - wittingly or not - to cheat on his wife. and they’re probably unaware that they’re both dating the maid.

oh fuck. now that i think about it this makes perfect sense.

A NOTP I have with said character: i guess daniel and mary sue? like, it’s an obvious answer but i literally almost always expose him as a cheater to her when i play the pleasants lmao their relationship really does not stand a chance.

A random headcanon: daniel usually prefers peace and quiet, so the constant arguing between his daughters - mixed with his poor relationship with his wife and the secret he keeps from her at the start of the game - makes it very hard for him to want to be around his own family.

instead of taking more initiative to take control of his domestic life, daniel instead opts to run from his problems. because he’s a Bastard. he envies his sister for having a healthier marriage than he does, unaware (or unwilling to entertain the thought) that perhaps jennifer and john have their own problems too.

General Opinion over said character: daniel is an absolute wet moldy rag of a man and his soap-opera-esque suffering amuses me.

Mortimer Goth

Sexuality Headcanon: pansexual.

Gender Headcanon: man

A ship I have with said character: i mean, the obvious answer would be mortimer x bella 5evr. they really are, or... were, a lovely couple. back in the sims 1 days, they were the ‘adorably eccentric’ goth family.

his wife had her strange magic, and he had his weird science, and together they were a power couple to end all power couples. but the thing is, i don’t imagine their relationship was built to last.  mortimer had far more ‘energy’ than bella did, and although they were a match, it was often difficult for her to keep up with him and his... mortimerisms. obviously bella had her quirks, but mortimer was something else. people often wondered how they managed to work together.

and as for his relationship with dina in the sims 2... well, the way i see it is, after bella’s disappearance, mortimer was utterly distraught. dina came to introduce herself and perhaps comfort him, since she was bella’s former sister in law, and in his weakness, things slowly escalated.

but even in his old age, mortimer is a highly intelligent and intuitive man who, i think, could read just about anyone like a book. if dina was just a run of the mill gold digger, he would’ve dropped her like a rock because he’s smarter than that. therefore, i’m almost certain that their relationship goes deeper than dina being interested in his wealth.

A BROTP I have with said character: this might seem odd, but mortimer and bonehilda in both the sims 1 and the sims 2. listen, i know she doesn’t appear in the sims 2... officially. but that doesn’t stop me from modding her into the game. and i have done exactly that.

the best part about acquiring the skeleton maid was that mortimer finally had somebody to ramble endlessly to about his latest ideas, the things that kept him up at night, but he didn’t want to bother bella while she was trying to sleep.

previously, he’d get an idea and would enthusiastically slams the door open like “BELLA I JUST HAD AN AMAZING IDEA!!!” and bella, laying in bed, would say “it’s the middle of the night and i have a golf tournament in the morning, dear.” and at that, mortimer would back out and slowly and quietly close the door.

so while bonehilda was tidying up the house, he would be essentially pacing around and talking to himself. thinking aloud helped him keep his thoughts in order - he has so many of them - and she would dutifully listen to his every word.

unfortunately he eventually had to retire the maid, she would frequently emerge from her coffin at inopportune times while bella was entertaining guests and they’d run out screaming.

bella also got tired of her drinking her cocktails and leaving puddles everywhere.

A NOTP I have with said character: i’d make jokes about it but i probably wouldn’t ship him with his skeleton maid. other than that i can’t think of any.

A random headcanon: mortimer is the very definition of mad scientist. open the page in the dictionary and you will find his picture.

being a knowledge sim, i feel like mortimer would do anything in the pursuit of knowledge, because he’s perpetually overwhelmed with curiosity and a desire to understand everything about the world, even if that often drives him to doing strange and, perhaps, unethical things in the name of science...

his curiosity led him to his chosen field in the first place. he was a bit of an amateur scientist even before then. as he rose through the ranks in his career and gained more notoriety for his scientific pursuits, he also took quite a lot of heat - some of his more bizarre experiments caused a great deal of scandals in his younger years.

he always managed to get back in the public’s favor, and he eventually got the last laugh against the press because he retired with a huge fortune.

General Opinion over said character: i’ve never been able to put my finger on it, but something about mortimer has always, ALWAYS felt extremely shady to me... and that’s what makes him interesting.

Johnny Smith

Sexuality Headcanon: bi

Gender Headcanon: man

A ship I have with said character: johnny x ophelia is cute, but johnny x ripp is also cute. you know what’s even cuter? all three of them together. they are so wholesome and good.

in my experience with strangetown (both in my current project and in an abandoned uberhood i did a while back), ripp usually has no romantic interest in ophelia and 100% interest in johnny, just on his own. their lack of feelings for each other, however, doesn’t stop them from both being with johnny, if they ever decided to do so. the only thing stopping them is their own personal convictions and... fear. as is the standard for these kinds of relationships, it would take a A Lot Of Work.

i’m sure johnny really loves them both, just in different ways. i see him as being the very physically affectionate friend who gives hugs out like candy and they both love him for it because they’re both touch starved as fuck. (that’s what you get when you have olive specter and buzz grunt as parental figures)

even tho it’s his first, the progression of his relationship with ophelia feels very natural to him. meanwhile, the idea of him and ripp together has never crossed his mind, not because he wouldn’t be interested, but because... um, well, he has a girlfriend, so... imagining himself with people other than his girlfriend would be weeeeird, you know? yeah...

he might also be a little oblivious, so that’s probably why he hasn’t picked up on ripp being weird around him yet. so ripp’s watching johnny be affectionate with ophelia like “god i wish that were me” and then johnny’s like “ripp are you ok” and ripp is like “haha yeah bro i’m great!!! :’)”

he’s always there for ophelia, and if ripp were willing to open up to johnny more often, he’d do the same for him.

A BROTP I have with said character: johnny!!! and!!! ripp!!!

whenever ripp is at johnny’s house, Which Is Often, they usually play SSX 3 together. johnny is better at it than ripp is, but at least ripp can beat him at darts on the dartboard on the back porch. they’re equally matched when it comes to playing pool, however.

they also really like to make dumb jokes at each other, including dumb puns and other such groan-inducing jokes read from vintage joke books and candy wrappers.

A NOTP I have with said character: hm... i can’t think of any because i don’t really ship him with anyone other than his two friends.

i could say johnny and tank but honestly that would be a total lie because i can imagine plenty of reasons to ship them, oddly enough. i don’t, but i can see why some do.

A random headcanon: johnny has basically spent his entire life surrounded by people - family, friends, etc. - to the point where being totally alone actually scares him quite a lot. he’s a popularity sim after all.

and, as unhealthy as it is, he really feels like its’ his responsibility to bring balance to ripp and ophelia’s lives by being the fun cheerful affectionate buddy, who always tries to lend an ear and a shoulder to cry on. he’s a little scared that if he didn’t hold them together at their worst, then they’d fall apart.

it’s a lot of work and he loses sleep from it sometimes because holding other people together is Actually! Very! Stressful! but he dreams of being a hero on a white horse and all, so if he has to, he will be the hero they need. he doesn’t want them to worry about him, he doesn’t want them to feel like they’re burdening him, so he never tells them that.

General Opinion over said character: 

#|| ask #jeebie-sims #daniel pleasant #johnny smith #mortimer goth #tumblr was like 'u dont get to make ur post look fancy' #i put a weird amt of effort into this for a sims headcanon post #why? bc i felt like it

[justlookfrightened]

From anonymous: I’m not sure if you’re still doing prompts, but i’ve loved every one so far. on the off chance that you are, maybe 40 for zimbits?

No. 40: “I wasn’t lying when I said that I loved you.”

From this prompt list

This is the second response I wrote to this prompt. The first, a stand-alone one-shot, can be found here. This is a continuation of Jack and Bitty in Houston, which starts here and continues here (scroll down to second response).

************************

Jack got out of his ride-share and looked up at Bitty’s building.

Frankly, it wasn’t much to look at. Low-rise, probably five stories. It looked like there was parking underneath and around the back.

He texted Bitty from the front door.

Downstairs

The door buzzed at the same time as his phone, and he opened it and headed for the elevator as he read the text.

I’ll buzz you in. Fourth floor

When the elevator opened, Jack saw Bitty’s head sticking out from an open door and waving.

“Come in!” Bitty said. “Dinner’s almost ready. And my neighbors were just leaving.”

Two women, one blonde and one brunette, were getting off the couch. Both had wine glasses, and both gave Jack frank, assessing looks.

“This is Mandy,” Bitty said, nodding at the blonde, “and this is Jeni. Y’all, this is Jack. Now skedaddle. I’ll call you later.”

“Be good, Eric,” Jeni said.

“But not too good,” Mandy said, giving Jack a long look.

“Yeah, yeah, see you later,” Eric said, closing the door behind them as they left.

Then he turned to Jack.

“Um, welcome,” he said. “You can see most of it from here. This is the living room area -- ” Bitty gestured to the couch, with a coffee table in front of it and a chair at an angle. A small television was mounted on the wall opposite, over a low bookcase “-- and this is the dining area.”

The small table with four chairs was essentially in the same room as the couch and TV. It was already set for dinner with plates, cloth napkins, and cutlery. A pitcher of ice water sat between the plates, with a glass at each setting.

“The kitchen is through there,” Bitty said, indicating a wide archway that opened on a small galley-style kitchen, “and the bathroom and bedroom are through there.”

Everything Jack could see was bright and cheerful, from the art on the walls (that was definitely one of Lardo’s paintings over the couch) to the pillows and rugs, and it looked like Bitty had probably spent some time tidying, since Jack didn’t see any of the detritus Bitty used to leave all over the condo in Providence: no shoes under the table, or charger cords trailing over the arm of the couch, or empty mugs on the coffee table.

It felt completely different from Jack’s old condo, with its floor-to-ceiling windows, sleek furniture and blue and gray color scheme.

All together, Bitty’s apartment was probably smaller than the hotel room the Aeros were putting Jack up in for the end of the season. He wouldn’t have time to look for a more permanent place until the summer, assuming the Aeros wanted to keep him.

“It’s nice,” Jack said. “I like what you’ve done with it.”

“I know it’s not much,” Bitty said. “But it’s what I could afford.”

Jack nodded. He’d assumed as much. And it was nice, even if it was smaller than any place Jack had ever lived, not counting his freshman year dorm room. Even so, he could hear the air conditioning laboring to keep up with the humidity outside.

“You want something to drink?” Bitty said. “There’s water on the table, or there’s lemonade or iced tea. Beer if you want it. I just have to plate the salad. The salmon is resting, and I can warm the apples while we eat that.”

“Apples?”

“Baked apples for dessert,” Bitty said.

“No pie?”

“No pie.”

Jack poured himself a glass of water and said, “Wow. Wasn’t expecting that.”

“I didn’t think you’d want any,” Bitty said. “You had some pie the other day at the bakery, and I know how strictly you keep to your nutrition plan. You always used to get mad at me when I offered you pie more than once a week.”

“I don’t think I was that bad,” Jack said. “It was just, you lived there, so there was always pie. Every day, it felt like. And that mini pie I had the other day was the first pie I had in five years. I think I could handle another piece.”

“Sorry,” Bitty said. “Maybe next time? Or come by the bakery this week and have a piece of whatever you want. On me.”

Bitty was laying slices of fruit and avocado on plates, sprinkling them with nuts and drizzling them with dressing.

“You don’t have to,” Jack said.

“Jack, I wouldn’t have let Quinn take your money last time if I knew it was you,” Bitty said.

“I can afford pie and coffee,” Jack said.

“That’s not what this is about,” Bitty said. “Sit, eat.”

The salad -- sliced blood oranges, avocados and some other kind of fruit, with nuts for crunch and a light dressing -- popped with flavor. Jack liked to think he had gotten better at cooking for himself over the last few years, but nothing he made tasted this good.

“So,” Bitty said, “tell me what you think of the Aeros chances.”

Jack shared his opinions -- the Aeros were good, got better with Jack’s arrival (although he didn’t say so in so many words), were a lock for the playoffs, but would need some luck to go all the way. “It’s definitely possible,” Jack said.

Bitty listened attentively, and the questions he asked showed that he’d been an Aeros fan since before the trade.

“You make it to a lot of games?” Jack said. “I saw you at the one, but that was because you were behind the goal.”

Bitty shrugged. “David -- my co-owner -- has season tickets, but he doesn’t really like hockey that much. Sometimes he uses the tickets to entertain people, but I get to go a lot of the time. I won’t if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Why would it make me uncomfortable?” Jack asked.

“Because you’re uncomfortable now,” Bitty said. “I don’t want to distract you while you’re playing.”

“You wouldn’t do that to the Aeros?” Jack chirped.

“Something like that,” Bitty agreed, but he was smiling.

The hockey talk had carried them through the salads and main course, and Bitty went to the kitchen to pull the apples from the oven.

“I almost wish I did make a pie,” Bitty said. “I was so nervous, and nothing calms me down like rolling out a crust. But these are good; I think you’ll like them.”

“Why are you nervous?” Jack asked.

“Why are you uncomfortable?” Bitty countered.

“I guess I never thought I’d be a guest in your home,” Jack said. “Before, it was always … our home. Then I never thought I’d see you again.”

“You didn’t have to come if you didn’t want to,” Bitty said.

“I wanted to,” Jack said. “It’s just weird.”

“Why didn’t you ever want to see me?” Bitty said. “Were you that angry at me?”

“I didn’t think you wanted to see me,” Jack said. “At least at first. Then I didn’t know for sure where you were.”

“But you knew Shitty and Lardo, at least, knew where I was,” Bitty said.

“Not for sure,” Jack said.

“Because you never asked.”

“No,” Jack said. “I didn’t want to put them in the middle or make them feel like they had to choose a side.”

The truth was, he didn’t want to find out they’d choose Bitty if they were pushed.

“I don’t see how you could just watch me leave and never even try to find out what happened to me,” Bitty said. “I guess I thought I meant more to you.”

“Bitty, I loved you,” Jack said. “You’re the one who left.”

“After you basically laughed at me told me I should be happy with what I got when I tried to tell you how I felt,” Bitty said. “Lord, Jack, can we just stop? I don’t want to fight.”

“I don’t want to fight either,” Jack said. “I miss you.”

“But you’re still angry with me for leaving.”

Jack knew that was true. How true, he hadn’t realized until tonight.

“I don’t want to be,” he said. “But I thought things were good, and then you were gone, and I didn’t really get why, and everything was bad. Tater was mad at me. Marty and Thirdy -- they felt bad for me, but I think they were really disappointed. Everyone thought it was my fault.”

“Everyone but you,” Bitty said. “Which goes to show how little anyone else knows about other people’s relationships. Neither one of us broke what we had on our own.”

“When you left so easily, it felt like you never loved me,” Jack said. “Like our whole relationship was a lie.”

“Oh, sweetpea, it wasn’t easy to leave,” Bitty said. “And I wasn’t lying when I said that I loved you. Ever. But by the end, it felt like I’d lose my whole self if I stayed.”

“Was it so bad?” Jack said. “Living with me? I mean, I don’t mean any disrespect, but my place was nicer than this. And I’m guessing your place in Philly was even smaller.”

“My place in Philly was a room at the YMCA for the first six months,” Bitty said. “Until I could save money for first and last months’ rent and a deposit. And I don’t know that your place was nicer. Bigger, sure. But all I was when I lived there was part of you. I needed room to be myself, and your condo wasn’t big enough for that.”

“It was our condo,” Jack insisted.

“No, it never was that,” Bitty said. “Jack, honey, I loved you and I thought it was enough. Turns out I had to love me, too.”

***********************

Read the next installment

**********************

Recipes Bitty makes:

Citrus and avocado salad with orange water

Slow-roasted salmon with fennel, citrus and chiles

Baked apples with prunes, almonds and amaretto

@cyn2k @wrathofthestag

#omgcheckplease #omg check please #zimbits #my fic #prompt fill #omg houston chronicles

[ccyans]

Kfjdjdnndndjdj what were you acually gonna do in flowers in my footsteps. I was very surprised at first that you were the one who wrote it bec I read it a few years ago,,,, and,,, bec my girl rin o' course needs some love y'all and i was so into fics with alive!rin back then haha! And god, you really did evolve as a writer. Howd you do that? I am completely junk at being descriptive/creative in writing, and I might not do any justice when I get to write characters + their interactions

OH MY GOD. FLOWERS. FLOWERS.

I always MEAN to come back to that fic. It’s not like In The Company Of (another naruto fic) which needs a complete rewrite – I only have 2k up for Flowers and though it was written so long ago I’m pretty okay with it, barring some descriptionary fixes. I have 3 drafts for Chapter 2 in my drives but it just keeps on getting derailed because I can’t figure out Konoha’s STUPID ASS ninja infrastructure system.

SPOILERS!!

Some Kakashi POV written in my notes. Not sure if this was supposed to make it into the actual story, but the background knowledge is necessary.(was Flowers dual POV? Single POV? it’s been so long.)

*

So there are a lot of places Kakashi should be on February tenth but aren’t, and there are a lot places he shouldn’t be but still is. Namely, for the former, his hospital room. He limped back from an A-rank two days ago (tracking and destroying another one of Orochimaru’s hidden laboratories at the edge of Grass) and he’s spent the time after sleeping off chakra exhaustion, a case of black manba poisoning, and getting the blown out nerves in his hand fixed again. Technically, he hasn’t been discharged (and his regular attending is getting so fucking sick of seeing his stupid masked face, why the fuck are you here again, Hatake) but February 10th is Obito’s birthday. Kakashi has a duty. Kakashi has been grimly terrible at most of of his assigned duties so far, all the important ones at least but they do exist. On bad days he imagines the little boxed dates on the calender (ObitoRinSenseiKushina) so small and so heavy with all that unrealized potential, and Kakashi is hit with a wave of terror strong enough to make him want to drag himself back to ANBU Barracks and get another misison, any mission, but–

Birthdays are important. Death dates are important. Some days Kakashi feels like his blood is boiling in the hours leading up to the morning, but he goes. He always goes. February tenth is Obito’s birthday, and Kakashi owes him that at least.

Which brings us to where Kakashi isn’t supposed to be: the Memorial stone.There is a tiny, tiny little girl at the Memorial stone.

Her hair is very pink, tugged up into pigtails, and she’s swaddled in a scarf and a woolen coat and boots. She doesn’t look older than five. The memorial is a public monument–a public ninja monument, but still public–so it’s not exactly strange to see her there. She might have dead relatives on the stone. Most people do.

What is strange is the lack of parents. He thinks maybe there should be an adult figure nearby. That is likely the normal expectation. Kakashi does not know anything about kids, not even when he was a kid, and these days the closest interaction he has with people under ten are when he’s in the middle of killing them (Rebelling Lord’s children for examples and dead-eyed experiments for mercy) but he thinks, normally, parents are involved.

There aren’t any

The kid is just sitting there, seiza. Incense smoke curls off the bright red sticks. There’s food laid out, untouched. It smells of oolong and fruit and hamburger steak and crisp winter. The girl smells a little of trepidition and a little grief and a lot of pomegranate. 

Um. Children. No.

Kakashi waits in a tree. It’s a cold day. She’ll have to leave, preferably sometime soon.

His ankle throbs. Dodgy joint. 

Except the little girl does not leave. The little girl does not even move. She sits there, after the tea has long cooled and the food is probably frozen, head bowed and chakra a loose, tiny curl and Kakashi is beginning to think she’s fallen asleep with how uniformly even her breaths have been coming. 

He doesn’t know if that’s a normal thing. He really doesn’t. 

He finally gets off his tree (in like, an hour) because, you know, it’s been an hour and Obito is probably rolling his other eye at him from beyond the grave. It’s just a little girl Bakashi. Genius my ass. He makes sure to make noise as he moves. Withered brown leaves crunch under the heel of his sandals. Kakashi is not very sure about children, but generally, all living things have decent enough survival instincts (which didn’t apparently apply to any if Kakashi’s Genin team, but well), and he’s a ninja still wearing the remainders of his bloodied and burned ANBU uniform.

The girl shakes her head out from her scarf. She sneezes, then stands up, and her legs wobble, likely because she’s been sitting there for an hour. She blinks huge green eyes at him. 

They stare at one another for a while.

Then, contrary to expectation, she doesn’t shriek or apologize or leave or even continue with the silence. She smiles at him, one edge hiked just a little higher than the other. She has an expression on her face that makes Kakashi automatically tense up, alarms blaring: it is familliar and nostalgic and she looks at him the way people look at soft, precious, delicate things. People looked at him like that once. Not many–but. They’re dead now.

All of them are dead now. She has no reason or right to look at him like that.Then she says: “Hello, Kakashi,” in a tone that is tired and all too relieved, and Kakashi’s first thought, two days fresh from burning another one of the Snake’s base is: Orochimaru. 

But that’s quickly discarded; it makes no sense, Orochimaru has no reason to sound like that, even if he is the foremost enemy that would take over a little girl’s body, and his second is: infiltrator, but he can’t think of any village that would call him Kakashi, they would call him Hatake or Sharingan or White Fang’s hier. 

Unless this is a psyche tactic. Very likely it is.

He grips the hilt of the kunai in his pocket. 

He wonders if it’s even a little girl. He’s been sitting on that tree for an awfully long time, and his reflexes are not in that great shape after the hospital. Subtly, he weaves a quick genjutsu, a tiny one, (which wouldn’t work against Orochimaru, but nothing Kakashi does is likely to work against Orochimaru, so) and opens Obito’s eye. 

The world lights up in colour. Hazy chakra. The tendrils of the earth, green gold. The little girl, pine-lit in earthern shades. The oil green of summer leaves. The bottle green of a wine glass. Her chakra is calm, no insidious threads wrapped around in a henge or genjutsu or some other obscure technique. He can read the tremble of her muscles, every micro-expression in beautiful, perfect stillness. No apprehension, but tension, something fine and delicate in her shoulders. 

The little girl tilts her head. Kakashi catches every strand of pink hair that goes into her eyes, past and present and almost-future.

Then she bends down, turns her back towards him, and begins to tidy her lunch boxes. She slings everything into a violently yellow knapsack, puts it over her shoulder, and then turns back at him. She smiles that same strange smile.

“Walk with me, Kakashi” she says. 

His eyes narrow, and then physically relaxes, a thin veneer of uncaring. “Mah, why I should I?”

The girl’s eyebrow raises; the smile doesn’t go away. It itches like hives down his back, another warning of danger. “Because we’re going to the place you’re already probably thinking of sending me.” Her child voice is fond. “Come on. I have an appointment with a Yamanaka at Interrogation.”

*

The confirmation of Rin’s identity is something she already set up (she knows a) Kakashi, and b) ninjas well enough to know they’ll want like, a BRAIN SCOUR to make sure she’s not a hidden plant.) So there’s the Yamanaka, and then the Hokage, and then Kakashi who comes up of Sarutobi’s office with the completely..????? knowledge of: yes that tiny child out there IS the dead team-mate/best-friend whom he promised (his other dead best friend) to protect and then killed and have had nightmares about for the past 5 years because the sharingan gives you beautiful photographic memory. ;)

ANYWAYS: The plot of Flowers is basically soft and focuses a lot on recovery (Kakashi’s). It goes into deph about Kakashi and Rin’s former friendship, which I think both canon and fanon glosses over a lot, (I explored it in the platonic soulmate AU, this is the longer version) and their current… ??? friendship, because currently Rin is a 4 year old from a civilian family who has no idea about her previous incarnation and Kakashi is this giant mess of issues dressed in ANBU armour. 

Flowers is basically Rin trying to address Kakashi’s giant ridiculous mess of issues and trying to help him through it. Even if he tries to basically shove everything into the closet. I think it’s important for it to be Rin, because she’s one of the… like… 3 people he was ever emotionally close AND transparent with, which means that unlike everyone currently alive she already has a way into his stupid spiky apathetic shell. 

Anyways a lot of this fic is conversation and Kakashi not saying things and Rin just READING INBETWEEN THE LINES DO YOU THINK THAT SINCE YOU GREW 5 INCHES I FORGOT HOW DO THAT?? And the the hilarious Outsider view (mainly Tenzo) of watching this tiny cheerful no-nonsense civilian pink haired girl hanging out in Kakashi’s space and bullying Kakashi into eating things that aren’t ration bars, and doing normal people things like decorating his apartment, and STAYING IN THE HOSPITAL KAKASHI I CAN SMELL THE DISNFECTANT. And Kakashi lets her, which is the STRANGEST THING to everyone who’s ever known Kakashi. They also have like 90 inside jokes and Kakashi-senpei can joke?????? Yeah. 

#cyan ficstuff #naruto #flowers in my footsteps #ask

[artificialqueens]

immaculate (or, sharon's lesbian awakening) - Citrus

Summary: Sharon’s been with the same guy since she was seventeen and has never had an orgasm. Her best friend Willam takes it upon herself to find a pretty lesbian to fix that. (inspired by a tweet that can be seen on @aqcitrus)

A/N: look i know i promised jalaska soon but i wrote this in two days after being stuck in writer’s block for almost five months, so i’m posting it. i hope y'all like it!!  remember that comments and asks (my blog is aqcitrus) mean everything to me! <3 Citrus

-

“Idiot! Learn how to cook a fucking egg!”

Willam’s shouting at the TV sent Sharon into a fit of giggles, clutching her best friend’s arm for support as she laughed. They were pleasantly buzzed off of cheap beer and two-buck Chuck, having ordered takeout for a night in. There was still food left even after they’d shared a joint in the afternoon, and they were slowly making their way through the boxes of rice and vegetable stir-fry in their laps. Whatever show they were watching was mostly just background noise, something for them to laugh at while they ate and talked and enjoyed each other’s company.

Sharon had recently been dumped by her boyfriend of five years, someone she’d been with since her senior year of high school. She was devastated to find him cheating on her, and it had come out in the open that he’d been cheating on her for almost the entirety of their relationship; Sharon was livid, and she knew just who to call. Willam had always been there for her, since they’d met in middle school as friendless outcasts, and she was her best friend in the entire world. Her plan of distracting Sharon with weed, alcohol, and lots of trashy takeout was clearly working at the moment.

“It’s not his fault!” Sharon laughed, trying not to choke on her food. “I’d be doing the same under a time limit like this!”

“Yeah, you’re no good under pressure,” Willam agreed. “Remember your first time?”

Sharon shoved her, pretending to be affronted. “It wasn’t that bad! I was just nervous because it was new.”

“Well now it’s not,” her best friend teased, “Now you’re a slut like me.”

“I am not!” Sharon protested, “Not at the moment, anyway. And it’s not like sex is that great, anyway.”

Willam’s jaw dropped. “Not that great?” she echoed, taken aback. Sharon gave her an odd look.

“Yeah? It’s not, like, life-changing or anything. Pretty boring, actually.”

Willam lowered the volume of the television, turning her whole body on the sofa so she could face Sharon. “Are you seriously telling me that the guy you’ve been dating since you were fourteen doesn’t fuck you right? Good sex isn’t boring.”

Sharon shrugged. “I mean, we didn’t have bad sex,” she said, “It was really passionate, he was so sexy. It just didn’t feel that great, y’know? The emotional aspect was great, not the physical aspect.”

“I’m gonna kick his ass,” Willam muttered. “Sharon, you fucking idiot, the physical aspect is the whole point of sex! Didn’t he make you feel like you were gonna explode, like your whole body was on fire?”

Sharon rolled her eyes. “That’s just how people exaggerate it.” Willam’s jaw dropped.

“Sharon,” she said seriously, “Have you ever had an orgasm? Like, even by yourself?”

“Of course I have,” Sharon defended, crossing her arms. Willam leaned back from her with a challenging expression, arms also folded.

“Oh yeah? What’s it feel like for you then?” When Sharon was silent, unable to come up with a response, Willam gasped. “Holy fuck, you’ve never had one!”

“I-” Sharon started, but paused when Willam whipped out her phone and started tapping frantically. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Texting a friend,” Willam answered vaguely. Sharon shifted on the sofa, moving practically into her lap. Willam scowled, moving her phone out of reach before Sharon could look at it.

“Willam! Tell me what you’re doing!”

Willam put her phone away with a grin. “She’ll be here in half an hour.”

“She? Who the fuck did you text?” Sharon demanded. Willam laughed.

“Listen, I have this friend, I think you’ll get along with her really well. I just texted her to come over so she can show you what good sex is really like.”

Sharon’s jaw hit the floor. “You texted some random girl you know to come over and fuck me? Are you insane?”

“A little,” Willam shrugged, “But yeah, I figured you’d be more comfortable if she came here. Don’t worry, she’ll come prepared and everything.”

“This is the weirdest good deed you’ve ever tried to do, Bill,” Sharon sighed, trying to quell her anxiety as she tidied up the living area. “I have no idea why I’m not stopping you.”

“Because you know I’m right,” Willam suggested, and Sharon really couldn’t argue. Sex with her ex was never really that pleasurable, and after hearing Willam describe good sex, she was more than intrigued. “He was the only person you’ve ever been with, right? Go outside your comfort zone, Shar!”

“I’m not… I’ve never really thought about being with a girl,” Sharon admitted. She couldn’t say for certain that she was straight, but Willam was right. She’d only dated one guy in her entire life, and he’d been the first boy to show any interest in her, so she’d jumped at the chance for love. After they’d graduated, when they were actually able to live together, things changed. In school, they’d been compatible, and were perfectly happy seeing each other in short bursts. Seeing him all the time, every single day, opened her eyes to the fact that they weren’t really very good for each other. Still, he’d always said he’d loved her, and he wasn’t a bad guy or anything, so she stayed.

Willam brought her out of her own thoughts with a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You’re gonna like her, I promise. Remember, I know you pretty fucking well. I saw how you weren’t really into him, I remember how you said that you were afraid to leave him in case you never found anyone else who would have you.” She kissed Sharon’s cheek. “I know it’s hard, baby, but sometimes the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, right?”

“That’s what they say,” a teary-eyed Sharon laughed. “I can’t believe you did this. I can’t fucking believe you’re setting me up with some lesbian I’ve never met before!”

Willam held out the trash can for Sharon to dump the takeout boxes into, and gathered her things quickly after checking her phone. “You’ll like her, I told you. I gotta go before she gets here, but text me later. Tell me everything.”

“You’re fucking insane,” Sharon told her as she held the door open for Willam to leave. “You really are.”

“I know!” Willam called as she walked down the hallway. She flashed a huge grin at Sharon before disappearing out of sight, leaving Sharon to rush to get ready.

Twenty minutes later, Sharon had made herself look as nice as she could, putting on a little makeup and fixing her hair. She’d changed into cute underwear and a tight black dress; she didn’t have time to shave, but her ex had always preferred her to be waxed, so she only had the slightest regrowth anyway. When she heard the knock on her door, she jumped up to open it.

Standing in her doorway was the most gorgeous girl she’d ever seen; tall, blonde, and slender, with long legs and full lips, wearing workout clothes that barely concealed anything at all. There was a gym bag slung over her shoulder and her makeup was minimal, her hair thrown up into a ponytail; she’d probably just finished a workout. She flashed Sharon a smile.

“Hi, Sharon? I’m Alaska, Willam’s friend.”

“Um, hi,” Sharon smiled nervously. “Come on in. Do you want water or wine or something?”

“I’m okay, but thank you,” Alaska smiled, taking off her shoes. Even without them, she towered over Sharon, and Sharon was intimidated beyond belief. Setting down her gym bag, Alaska put a hand on her hip. “So, Bill told me you have a little… problem.”

Sharon winced. “How much detail did she go into?”

Alaska laughed, and Sharon’s heart fluttered at the sound. “She just said you’ve been stuck with the same guy for like five years and he’s terrible at sex.”

“He was pretty terrible,” she admitted, both to Alaska and to herself. “I’ve, uh, never had an orgasm.”

Alaska bit her plump lower lip, her dark eyes wide with surprise. “Oh, you poor thing,” she cooed, stepping closer to run a hand up and down Sharon’s arm. “I’ll get you there, baby, if you want that.” She flushed a little, and Sharon nodded.

“I do. I’ve never been with anyone else, but… sex was about him, mostly.”

Alaska rolled her eyes as she crouched to pick up her bag. “Isn’t that just like a guy? I fucking hate men, I’m so glad I’m a lesbian.” Sharon laughed at that, and Alaska shared her giggles. “Do you wanna show me your bedroom? We can get to know each other a little better.”

“Yeah, of course. Right this way.”

Once they were in Sharon’s bedroom, Alaska sat down on her bed, patting the sheets beside her. Sharon had never been so nervous in her own bedroom, but somehow, this girl made her feel safe. She sat, and Alaska smiled at her.

“I know you’re probably nervous,” she said, “But I’m here for you, Sharon. I’m gonna do my best to make you feel incredible, so I want you to communicate with me when things feel good, and especially when they don’t. Is that okay with you?”

Sharon bit her lip. “Yeah, of course.”

Alaska beamed at her, placing a hand on her thigh. “Great. Communication is the most important thing in sex, or in anything, actually. Just be clear with me and tell me what you need.”

“Right,” Sharon agreed, looking at the floor. Alaska did make her feel safer, but she was still a little daunted by the situation in front of her. Seeming to sense her hesitation, Alaska tilted her chin up, forcing eye contact.

“Can I kiss you, Sharon?” Sharon nodded, not quite able to find her voice as she leaned in close to meet Alaska’s lips. She immediately melted into the kiss, feeling her whole body heat up as Alaska deepened the kiss and licked into her mouth. Unable to control herself, Sharon let out a low whine, shifting closer as she sought more from Alaska. The blonde laughed against her lips, breaking the kiss to pull her shirt over her head, her sports bra following after.

Sharon’s eyes swept over Alaska’s bare chest, awed by how different their bodies were. She’d never seen a topless girl right in front of her, and something inside her was aching to explore the unfamiliarity of Alaska’s petite breasts. Alaska smiled and took Sharon’s hand in her own.

“Don’t be so shy, baby,” she said, “You can touch me.” She guided Sharon’s hand to her breast, kissing her again and letting out a little sigh when Sharon gave the sensitive flesh a squeeze. “Just like that,” she breathed against Sharon’s lips, gripping her thigh a little harder, her hand moving upward under Sharon’s dress.

Sharon was more turned on than she’d ever been in her life, and she spread her legs almost without thinking as Alaska’s hand crept higher. The tight dress looked fantastic on her but it was currently constricting her movements so much that she couldn’t lean closer to Alaska the way she wanted to.

“Can you help me out of this?” she asked quietly, pulling away from their steamy makeout to offer Alaska an awkward smile. The blonde laughed and nodded, reaching around Sharon’s body to unzip the dress and help push it down and off Sharon’s body.

“God,” she whined, and Sharon was worried that something was wrong until she saw the way that Alaska was staring at her tits. “Can I touch?” she asked, looking up to make eye contact, and she looked so earnest that Sharon nodded almost without thinking. Alaska’s hands flew up to cup her breasts, biting her lip as she stared at Sharon with the most intense bedroom eyes she’d ever seen. “You’re so fucking hot,” she breathed. “Fuck, Willam knows my type.”

Sharon giggled at that. “What’s your type, then? I wanna know.” Alaska smiled and pushed her down onto the bed on her back, being exceptionally gentle with her as she did so.

“Willam knows I like a girl with curves,” she answered, hands skimming over Sharon’s waist. “I’m not gonna say anything more than that, but fuck,” she whined, “Your body is just… so perfect. God, I could eat you up. I might just have to,” she added with a wink. Sharon squeezed her thighs together, feeling the heat pooling between them as Alaska gently stroked her bare skin. She pulled back to peel off her leggings, but quickly resumed her position above Sharon and began to kiss down her neck and chest.

“I can take this off, if- if you want,” Sharon stammered, fingering the straps of her bra. Alaska nodded and sat back on her heels to watch Sharon peel the black lace away, a soft gasp escaping her as Sharon revealed her bare breasts. She leaned down, kissing Sharon’s neck again and palming her tits; when Alaska’s mouth moved to one of her breasts she gasped loudly, cursing under her breath at the feeling of Alaska’s tongue on her nipple. She was so gentle and intentional as she sucked and massaged and licked, in a way that Sharon’s ex never had. He was always appreciative of her big boobs, but he preferred to grope and squeeze them; this was something entirely different, and the way Alaska was worshipping her chest made her stomach tighten.

“Feel free to stop me if it’s too much,” Alaska said as she pulled off Sharon’s nipple with a soft pop. “I could literally do this all fucking day.”

“No, it’s- it’s good,” Sharon assured her breathily, “It’s really good.”

Alaska flashed her a teasing grin, fingers pressing against Sharon’s panties. “You’re already so wet…” Sharon bit her lip, squirming at Alaska’s teasing and nodding eagerly when Alaska’s fingers hooked in the waistband of her panties.

“Please.”

Dragging Sharon’s panties down her legs, she gently pushed her thighs apart and licked her lips at the sight of Sharon’s wet pussy, wanting nothing more than to drive her wild. This girl was incredible, and it was such a shock to know that she barely had any sexual experience beyond being used as a pocket pussy by her sleazy ex (Willam’s words, not hers).

“You’re so pretty,” Alaska purred, parting Sharon’s lips with two fingers and watching how she spread. “Fuck, so pretty.”

Sharon flushed. “You’re just saying that,” she mumbled, and Alaska shook her head.

“I wouldn’t lie to a pretty little thing like you,” she promised her in a low voice, dragging her fingers between Sharon’s folds and rubbing her clit. Sharon’s hips twitched at the soft touch and she moaned, overwhelmed. “You like that, baby? You like it when I talk to you like this?” Sharon nodded, blushing harder, and Alaska stole a kiss from her. “Good girl. Can I eat you out, cutie? I’m dying to find out if you taste as sweet as you look.”

“Yeah,” Sharon answered weakly, whimpering when Alaska’s tongue pressed against her pussy, lapping at her folds and tasting her wetness. She gripped the sheets in white-knuckled fists, back arching off the bed as Alaska’s moans vibrated through her body. When she dared to look down at the blonde she found herself meeting dark eyes that stared up at her with teasing defiance, almost as if Alaska was daring her to say something about it. When she sucked on Sharon’s clit, Sharon couldn’t help but emit a high-pitched, whiny moan while her legs shook. Her ex-boyfriend had given her oral before, but it had never been anything like this; truly, Sharon had been starting to think that her clit just wasn’t as sensitive as it was supposed to be. All of that thinking was being thrown out the window now though, as Alaska’s tongue fluttered over the sensitive bud and Sharon threw her head back in ecstasy.

Sharon’s hand found its way into Alaska’s hair, gripping tighter than she probably should have as the blonde brought her closer to the edge with every lick. Pressure was building between Sharon’s trembling thighs, coiling hot and deep in her stomach, and her moans became choked and whiny; Alaska could clearly tell she was close, because she redoubled her efforts.

“Alaska, fuck, I- I’m- I’m gonna- A-Alaska, fuck, Alaskaaaa!”

Her hips bucked against Alaska’s mouth, and she felt the blonde’s hands gripping her hips and pushing them down, grounding her as she came, hard. The initial burst of pleasure traveling through her body eventually fizzled out into a delicious buzz, and Sharon opened her eyes to see Alaska leaning back, watching her. When they made eye contact, Alaska smirked and bent down to lick Sharon one or two more times, cleaning her up before straddling her hips.

“How do you feel?”

Sharon sighed, physically feeling the tension leave her body. “Incredible. Fuck, Alaska, that was… Amazing.”

“I’m glad it was good for you,” she smiled. “It was good for me too.”

“Can I… is there anything I can do for you?” Sharon asked shyly, not entirely confident in her ability to please a woman, but determined to try. Alaska shook her head with a smile.

“I think what I have in mind next will benefit us both,” she answered. Sharon’s eyes widened.

“Next? That wasn’t it?” Alaska snorted in laughter, failing miserably to conceal her amusement despite Sharon’s honest confusion.

“You really haven’t met that many lesbians, have you? We’re good at pleasing our women, Sharon. You’re gonna get as much as you can handle tonight.” Not bothering to let Sharon respond, Alaska hopped off the bed and knelt by her gym bag, unzipping it and rooting through it until she found what she was looking for. Pulling out a strap-on harness and a couple of different-sized dildos, she looked up at Sharon with a dangerous grin. “You wanna try?”

“I… yeah,” Sharon agreed, almost speechless at the array of toys Alaska had brought with her.

“You pick, baby. I suggest starting small and working our way up. We can always go bigger.” She winked, and Sharon felt herself pulse with want. Looking at the various sizes and shapes she’d been presented with, she selected a pink, stylistic toy, about the same size that her ex had been. Taking him had never been a challenge, so she thought it would be best to start with what she was familiar with.

“This one…?”

“Don’t sound so hesitant, Sharon,” Alaska teased, “Tell me exactly what you want. Do you want me to fuck your pussy with that one or not?” Sharon pulsed again at the slight dirty talk, nodding as she picked up the toy, feeling its unfamiliar weight in her hand. She held it out for Alaska to take, watching the blonde slip out of her thong and press her fingers against herself. “Hold on, baby, I just gotta… Mmm…” Sharon watched in arousal as Alaska slid two fingers into her pussy, pumping them slowly before adding a third.

“Are you sure I can’t do something for you?” Sharon blurted out, a little embarrassed that Alaska was taking matters into her own hands– literally. Alaska shook her head with another laugh, pulling her fingers away and sucking them clean before picking up the harness. She held it up to show Sharon that it had a thick, curved dildo attached to one side, and before Sharon could say anything, she stepped into the harness and pushed the toy inside herself.

“Mmm, fuck, it’s been a while since I used this one,” she smiled, circling her hips against thin air as she tightened the straps. She took the dildo Sharon had chosen from her hands, attaching it to the empty space at her crotch, and Sharon just about died at the sight of her. Sure, she’d seen a dick before, but somehow it was a billion times sexier on a woman, a woman who’d already made her come once with just her mouth.

“You look… wow.”

“I know,” Alaska smiled. “How do you want me? Missionary? Doggie? Cowgirl? I’ll give you whatever you want, baby, I promise you that much.”

Sharon had done a lot of doggie and missionary in her time with her ex; she supposed he preferred the positions that would give him the most control and the most pleasure, so she blushingly told Alaska that she wanted to ride her. The blonde’s eyes lit up as she nodded, and Sharon made room for her to lay down on her back on the bed before straddling her thighs.

“God, you’re gonna look so cute on my dick,” she mumbled, stroking Sharon’s hip. Sharon was about to position herself over the toy when Alaska pushed her back by the hips, shaking her head. “Waitwaitwait,” Alaska rushed out, sitting up halfway to snatch up a bottle of lube that she’d placed on the bed earlier. She drizzled it over her bright pink artificial dick, stroking it almost like it was real, and Sharon couldn’t wait any fucking longer. She had to have her, and she had to have her now. With Alaska’s help, she lined herself up with the dildo and began to sink down, surprised as hell when she took the entire slippery length in a single go like it was nothing.

“You sure you haven’t done this before?” Alaska teased, raising an eyebrow. Sharon shook her head.

“I’m just as surprised as you are. This is about the same size I’m used to…”

“The dick was that bad, huh?” Alaska interrupted with a cheeky grin. “You poor thing, let’s get you something a little bigger. I wanna fuck you right.”

With a little awkward shifting from both parties, they separated and Alaska replaced the first toy with a larger model, a realistic purple cock that Sharon was practically drooling over when she attached it to the harness. This time, when Sharon sank down on the lubed-up toy, she had to be a little slower. Her lips parted in silent pleasure as she lowered herself onto Alaska’s cock, feeling the slick silicone filling her up like nothing she’d ever felt before.

“Fuck, you’re so big,” she whined, “Feels so good.”

Alaska bit her lip, clearly very turned on by the sight of Sharon sitting on her dick, and gave her thigh a little squeeze. “Yeah, baby, feels good for me too.” Sharon nearly questioned it, but then she remembered the toy currently sheathed inside Alaska, and flushed pink. It had taken her until now to realize that when Alaska fucked her with this strapon, she’d be fucking herself on the toy as well, and that thought made her drip. “Can I fuck you, baby?”

“Please,” Sharon moaned, gasping when Alaska’s hands flew to her hips and guided her to move up and down on her cock, slow and gentle at first. “Oh my god…”

Alaska stopped, looking up at Sharon with wide eyes. “You okay?” she asked, her voice thick with concern. Sharon blushed and nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just… a lot.”

“Should we not have switched toys?” Alaska worried, attempting to shift Sharon off. Sharon shook her head, slamming her hips back down in defiance; the unforeseen consequence of this was that both of the toys were thrust into them, and they both let out guttural moans.

“I like this one,” Sharon assured her weakly. “It’s good, it’s just… I’m not used to sex being so good.”

Alaska shook her head sadly, rubbing Sharon’s hip to comfort her. She pulled Sharon up on the toy, helping her start to fuck herself on it, and Sharon didn’t hold back her moans as she rode Alaska. Wanting to shower this gorgeous girl in affection, Alaska flipped their positions while the toy was still inside them both, lifting Sharon’s legs over her shoulder to fuck her deeper. Sharon came embarrassingly quickly, with only a few thrusts of Alaska’s hips, but the blonde didn’t stop there. She kept going.

By the time that Alaska let Sharon tap out she’d lost count of her orgasms, sweaty and shaking against her sheets, her thighs sticky with lube and cum and saliva. Alaska had fucked her hard and fast, then soft and slow, eaten her out again and pressed her fingers into Sharon until she saw stars. She’d managed to cram more pleasure into a single night than Sharon had experienced in her entire life, and Sharon was reeling from it all. As Alaska wiped her toys clean and replaced them in her bag, she moved to gather her clothes from the floor, and Sharon propped herself up on her elbows to watch.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” Alaska looked up at her in surprise.

“I didn’t think you’d want me to stay.”

Sharon frowned. “Why not? Of course I want you to stay.”

Alaska set her clothes down on top of her bag, crossing her arms over her torso. “You’re not worried about it being kinda… weird?”

“Why would it be weird?” Sharon asked, genuinely confused. Alaska sighed.

“Willam said you were straight. I figured you just wanted a night of exploration, to loosen up after your breakup.”

Sharon bit her lip, overwhelmed. “I don’t think I’m straight anymore,” she joked weakly, and was pleased when Alaska’s frown gave way to a smile. “I didn’t really have a plan for tonight. It was all Willam’s idea, not mine, so I went into it with pretty much zero expectations. I know we’re strangers, and this is probably just a one-time thing, so… I just kinda wanted to make it last.” She hated being so vulnerable in front of someone she barely knew, but she wanted to be honest with Alaska. Something inside her told her that doing so was really important, and she usually listened to her gut. Alaska, to her credit, crossed the room with a smile to get into Sharon’s bed and spoon her.

“You know that if I stay here, I’ll probably end up fingering you again, right?” Sharon laughed, turning in her arms to snuggle into her chest.

“I’m hoping so.”

-

Willam felt absolutely no guilt about leaving Sharon to await Alaska’s arrival; she knew her best friend would be in capable hands. Truly, she’d been thinking about setting up her two best friends for a while, but Sharon had been clinging to the futile hope of patching things up with her scumbag ex for far too fucking long. Willam was so glad that they’d finally parted ways, and she knew that Alaska would be able to make Sharon feel better. Much, much better.

She didn’t hear anything from Sharon all night, which was a great sign in this case. In fact, she didn’t get a text from Sharon until the morning after. Actually, it was a string of texts, and what a string of texts they were.

Shar: willam.. holy fuck

Shar: i Didn’t know sex could feel so good, does lesbian sex always feel that great??? i never liked it when he ate me out .. i literally thought my clit was broken or something but HOLY SHIT she gave me head like three times and it was incredible !

Shar: and her strap game was… immaculate. she’s got crazy stamina tho, wouldn’t let me tap out until i came like nine times..

Shar: bitch i’m still cumming on myself.. lesbians are so nasty, willam, you’re all nasty fucking whores !!

Shar: would it be thirsty for me to ask her to fuck me again tonight ?? or should i play it cool with her… fuck im twitching i need it again

Shar: i woke up this morning to get ready for work and the first thing i thought was “let’s make today a good day” BITCH WHAT!! you know i hate my fucking job !! she’s just .. incredible….

Willam was in the middle of a laughing fit at the messages when another text came in from Sharon, and she cackled to herself at the thought of Sharon’s world being turned upside down by a single night with Alaska.

Shar: wait wait wait okay .. i texted her and all i said was “hey” and she replied “you need it again already huh?” she’s so cocky willam !! it’s so fucking hot. WHERE did you find her !

Shar: like first of all … yes, i do. so i’ll be over at 11.. also does she like sushi? i wanna take her out for a real date

Willam: LMAOOOO I’M DYING OVER HERE

Willam: I KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN. I FUCKING TOLD YOU SO

Shar: …you did. i’m kinda smitten with her, fuck.

Willam: she’s single ;)

Shar: yeah i hoped so.. she keeps calling me “baby” it’s making me melt ..

Shar: so does she fucking like sushi or not willam i don’t have all day !!

Willam: i woulda thought you knew how she felt about fish after last night… yeah she does

-

“Hey, Alaska?”

“You didn’t answer my question, baby. You need it again?”

Sharon blushed, thankful that Alaska couldn’t see her expression over the phone. “I mean… You were great and all, but…”

“Oh.” Alaska’s voice went flat. “Don’t worry, I get it.”

“What?”

“I said I get it,” Alaska repeated. “You’re straight, I’m not, it’s cool, okay? Don’t worry about it.”

Sharon was incredulous.

“What? No! I was calling to ask you out to dinner!” The other end of the line went silent for a moment, and when Alaska spoke again she could hear the smile in her voice.

“Oh. Like…”

“Like a date,” Sharon finished for her. “A casual one. Willam said you like sushi, and there’s this really cute place I go to… I’ll text you the details? If you’re down for that. You don’t have to.”

“God, I wish I was there so I could kiss you and make you shut the fuck up,” Alaska chuckled. “You run your mouth when you’re nervous, you know that? It’s really cute. Anyway, yeah, I’ll be there. Text me and I’ll clear my schedule.”

Sharon laughed. “What, just for me?”

When Alaska replied, it was more genuine than anything Sharon’s sleazy ex-boyfriend had ever said to her.

“For you, anything.”

#rpdr fanfiction #sharon needles #alaska thunderfuck #shalaska #willam belli #smut #lesbian au #citrus

[fiive-second-cookies]

A Logince bullet fic thing based off dodie’s “Arms Unfolding” song

I wrote this like a month ago and said I’d post it and then never did, but here it finally is!

Hope I’m not tired of rebuilding ‘Cause this might take a little more •night before The Meeting •a few months after they broke up •Roman is crying because something reminded him of Logan, his ex boyfriend, and it’s just one of those days •Ro calls Patton over and Patton is lovely and helps Roman feel better with supportive back rubs and Disney movies I think I’d like to try look at you And feel the way I did before •*fast forward to the next morning* •To say Roman was having a bad morning was a major understatement •he woke up late, missed an audition, his manager called to tell him he didn’t get the part in one of the plays he auditioned for, he was completely out of his favorite jam, and he had forgotten to do laundry the day before so his outfit plans were ruined •could his day possibly get any worse?! •he goes to his favorite coffee shop for some coffee •if Roman had been less frazzled, he would have seen Remy’s subtle panicked glance to the corner of the the shop by the window where a certain bespectacled nerd was sitting and reading a book •but Remy recovers quickly and Ro remains oblivious •Remy the barista is a snarky but lovable sass queen •”wow, Ro, bad morning?” snickering •”shut it, Rem. I’m not in the mood” •Roman turns around to leave, coffee cup in hand, and instantly locks eyes with Logan across the coffee shop •*sharp intake of breath* •yes. apparently his day could get worse.

(the rest is under the cut because this is pretty long)

Oh, our fire died last winter All of the shouting blew it out •flashback to fights and arguments towards the end of when they were still together •they both kept getting mad over stupid, unimportant things •Logan was staying up all night to work •Roman was coming home late from rehearsals •Roman was leaving a mess on the kitchen table from a craft (“there is glitter all over the table, Roman!”) •Logan wouldn’t stop studying to eat or sleep or focus on Ro •Logan forgot their two year anniversary •neither of them could remember how the last argument had started, but it was the worst one by far, and it ended with untruthful things (“maybe it’d just be easier if we weren’t together!”) being said and they were both crying and Logan stormed out of Roman’s apartment •needless to say, they had broken up •(all because of about a month of like two or three trivial arguments a week) •Ro collapsed to the floor as soon as the door slammed shut, chest heaving as he sobbed You know I could live without or with you But I might like having you about •Roman took the breakup… really hard, to say the least •he refused to answer calls or texts from anyone for nearly a week •and in that week he barely slept or ate food •finally, Patton had Enough™️ and got extremely worried •with the help of Virgil, they figured out a way to get into Ro’s apartment (aka calling Roman’s moms cuz they have a spare key to his apartment for emergencies) •the place was a mess, to put it kindly •and Roman was even worse •Virgil wasn’t sure how to help, so Patton took control and went full Dad Mode with Ro. Feeding him, making sure he took a shower and changed clothes, tidying up his apartment, and letting Roman cry his heart out •Patton is literally the sweetest person and the bestest friend ever •after about two weeks, Roman is finally feeling better •(he’s not actually better (his heart is still shattered and sometimes he still cries himself to sleep) but at least now he’s able to get back to work and talk to his friends and family) •Roman seems mostly fine to the outside world (except Patton and occasionally Virgil) and life returns to “normal” •Roman will still cry to Pat about missing Logan occasionally tho, usually during their weekly sleepover Yes, these new walls are pretty hard to crack And it might take a while until I trust you won’t attack •*back to the present in the coffee shop* •Logan is Shook for a moment and his eyes go wide •then Logan takes a deep breath and relaxes somewhat, putting on a neutral facade •Roman knows he can’t just leave now, so he walks over to Logan’s table •both of them are definitely feeling a bit awkward •”uh, hey, Logan” •”salutations, Roman” •a few beats of awkward silence •Lo: “so… how’ve you been?” •”uh, I’ve been… fine” (lie) “how about you?” •”I… I’ve been busy with work and my studies, but things have been going… great” (now they’re both lying) “I suppose you’ve been busy, too, with your successful attempts at professional make-believe?” •”oh, uh, y-yeah of course. I’ve been super busy with lots of auditions and rehearsals and… and performances” •that’s only half true •Roman has been busy with lots of auditions •but he’s been a little… lackluster since the breakup, and hasn’t gotten any big roles •Logan lifts an eyebrow slightly, obviously picking up on Roman’s hesitance and lie •”are you quite sure?” •Roman’s eyes narrow “of course I’m sure!” •Logan is closely inspecting Roman, and can clearly see the walls the boisterous man has put up against him •”well, it has been enjoyable to catch up with you. but you probably have places to be, and I have must leave for work soon” •Roman is grateful for the obvious attempt at providing an escape •”yes, of course. Great, uh—great talking to you, Lo” •Roman misses the slip-up in his haste, but Logan’s breath hitches at the use of his nickname •Roman is already halfway out the door by the time Lo recovers enough to lift a shaky hand in goodbye •a few hours later, Ro calls Patton in a lowkey panicked state •the two go out for dinner and Ro tells Patton everything Oh, I apologize, but it was only self-defense Running away just made sense •*flash forward about a week maybe* •Roman is in a rush because his manager is going to kill him he can’t be late for another audition •and Roman quite literally runs into Logan •Roman spills his coffee and drops the sandwich he was trying to stuff in his mouth between whispered curses as he was walking •Logan drops a few papers he had been reading through, only narrowly keeping hold on the laptop bag slung on his shoulder •”oh my goodness I’m so sor—Logan! I— uh, sorry, I wasn’t paying attention!” •”no, Roman, it’s alright. I apologize about your drink and food. Perhaps… you’d let me repay you?” •Roman does a double take •”um… sure” •his manager was so going to kill him •Logan leads the way to a nearby park and buys them each a pretzel ((don’t ask me why, I couldn’t thing of anything else)) •they walk in a mostly awkward silence •Logan stops at a park bench right underneath a big tree •and of course it just has to be one of their favorite spots from when they were dating •they sit down and now it’s really awkward •after a few minutes, Roman speaks up •”I… I’m sorry for… running away last week, y’know, at the coffee shop” •”you don’t need to apologize, I understand” •more awkward silence •”actually… I’d like to apologize as well” •Roman finally turns towards Lo with a questioning look •”the way things… ended between us… was not… was not, um…” •Roman is shocked to hear Logan at a loss for words •”I just— I am very sorry, Roman. That was not a good way to end our relationship. And… honestly… I— I wish our relationship hadn’t ended at all” •Roman’s breath hitches and he goes to say something •”no! Sorry, but, please, just listen to me” •Roman, reluctantly, stays quiet •”Roman, I miss being with you. Right before we broke up, I was extremely stressed and my temper was unbelievably short. I should not have taken out my… emotions… on you. Looking back, most of our arguments were… pointless and petty.” •Roman goes to interrupt, but Logan keeps going •”of course, I do not take full responsibility for our disagreements. We both know that the fault lies with both of us. But we should have communicated better to solve our issues, rather than yelling over silly problems and allowing the other to stay angry.” •Logan has been staring forward the whole time, but now, he glances at Roman •”while we were dating, Roman, I was the happiest I’ve ever been. And since we’ve broken up, I’ve felt… incomplete. Almost… hollow. You helped me learn how to accept my emotions, but without you around, I’ve locked away my feelings, once again, into a metaphorical box and completely ignored them” •tears form in Logan’s eyes •”all this to say… I hope that, one day, we can… try again. Not dating! Not necessarily, of course. I would never, ever force you to do something you don’t want to do. But, at the very least, I’d like to try being friends again, Ro” But here I am with arms unfolding I guess it isn’t quite the end •Roman has tears running down his cheeks now •”Lo“—his voice cracks with emotion—“Logan, I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry we fought like that, and I’m sorry we broke up. You’re absolutely right, we should have handled our emotions better and not let them take over. I’m just— I’m so so sorry, Lo” •Roman is fully crying now •Logan grabs Ro’s hand, and Roman holds on almost painfully tight, but Logan doesn’t mind at all •”it’s been so hard the past few months without you. There hasn’t been a moment where I haven’t missed you. God, I’ve missed you so much, Lo” •The tears fall silently from Logan’s eyes now too •”you are absolutely right. We should have communicated better instead of getting into arguments. We shouldn’t have let a few petty disagreements ruin our whole relationship. I deeply regret not fixing that problem and just letting it get out of hand. I’m sorry” •Logan holds out his arms and Roman doesn’t even hesitate to collapse against the other man’s chest •Logan wraps his arms around Roman and the two sit there, Roman holding back sobs and Logan silently letting his tears fall Old partner in crime, I’m going to try To fall in love with you again •After a few minutes, both of them have calmed down a bit •Roman leans back, but makes sure Logan’s arms stay wrapped around him •”about your offer—” •Logan’s eyes widen ever so slightly and he tightens his arms around the other •”I’d love to be friends again, Logan.” •Logan lets out a relieved breath •”in fact, I’d love to try dating you again. Only if you want to though! And we’d take things slow, of course! But I just feel like we’ve both learned from our mistakes and grown in the last few months. We know now that communication is extremely important, especially when our emotions are at extremes.” •Logan smiles •”I would also love to rekindle our relationship, Roman.” •Roman smiles back •”would you like to accompany me on a date to… say, dinner at your favorite restaurant?” •Roman’s smile gets impossibly wider •”that sounds wonderful, Lo. Meet tomorrow at seven?” •”that’s perfect, Ro” •these two nerds in love just stare at each other, smiling and happier than they’ve been in months •until Roman’s phone rings, his manager’s name showing up on the screen •”oh, shit”

#sanders sides #logan sanders #roman sanders #logince #thomas sanders #fanfic is great #munchkin writes