#I’m meeting my friend downtown who’s visiting the area and staying over at my place

[corpus-incorporated]

Having a bad brain day when you have uncancelable plans sucks ass

[akakeiiji]

HI!~ (THIS IS MY FIRST TINE REQUESTING AND IM REALLY EXCITED) Can I request a scenario where their smol s/o (I'm like 155 or 5'1 for reference) gets easily lost? Like they just wonder off on their own cause they think that he's still with them and she tends to leave her phone with him so calling to find her is out of the question??? (Me honestly IM SORRY FRIENDS AND FAMILY) She likes a lot of things so sometimes its hard to find her cause they never know where she is? Ushi, Tsuki and Bokuto-🌼

-`,✎ Ushijima, Tsukishima and Bokuto losing their short S/O in a crowd

THIS REQUEST IS JUST TOO ADORABLE AND IT HITS SO CLOSE TO HOME!! We’re the same height nonnie 🤧🤧✋ Short gang, where ya’ll at? 

Also I apparently don’t know how to read because I thought you requested for headcanons at first despite you clearly asking for scenarios so I decided to keep the hcs since I was already halfway done with them~ hope you don’t mind, nonnie! 

The man is literally built like the empire state building, he just towers over everyone, it’s insane

And then there you are behind him, all tiny and stuff, it’s so friggin adorable

He doesn’t really notice your height difference at all

Whenever people point it out, he just cocks his head with his eyebrows furrowed and is like “Yeah, I’m tall?? And they’re short?? Why are you reacting like that?”

He’s genuinely confused and doesn’t see why it’s a big deal at all

When he looks at you he doesn’t really pick up on itty bitty details like your height and stature; he just sees you for the whole you and sees you simply as this perfect deity that he loves

But he does appreciate the perks that come with it such as the way you feel when he hugs you after a match or the way you look up at him so adorably when you’re trying to get a kiss

He also didn’t realize the cons that came with having a tiny s/o

There are many but we’re focusing on the fact that it’s so easy to lose you in a crowd

He’ll literally look away for 0.5 seconds and when he looks back at you, you’re suddenly gone

He probably won’t notice for a bit but after a while, he’ll wonder why you aren’t holding onto his sleeve or hand anymore

Whenever this happens he usually goes about it in two ways; he’d either stay still where he is and let you find him (which isn’t hard, he sticks out like a sore thumb) or if enough time passes, he’ll retrace his steps and look for you himself

He’ll have a tiny little frown on his face since he gets so worried about you, like you’re so tiny what if you get trampled??

When he does find you though, the wide smile on your face when you catch sight of him honestly makes the search worth it

can you tell that I miss ushi so friggin much

The streets in downtown Tokyo are always so packed at this time of day. There were hundreds of people rushing to and from work, tourists taking in the sights, and busy shoppers such as yourself and Ushijima; you two had just finished shopping together and were heading to your favorite restaurant in the area as you always do to end your date night.

Your hand remained tightly wrapped around the hem of your boyfriend’s coat as you two made your way down the busy streets, struggling to not get pulled away as people continued to mercilessly push past you. You would have much rather held Ushijima’s hand but he insisted on carrying all your shopping bags and was rather preoccupied with them at that moment.

He marched on, oblivious to your struggles behind him. It was during times like this when you hated how short your legs were, you were practically jogging to keep up with your boyfriend who, to him, was only going at a leisurely pace.

Before you knew it, your hand had loosened and you suddenly lost hold of his coat. You looked up, hoping to find him just a few feet away, but he had disappeared into the sea of people all around you.

Ushijima hadn’t noticed anything at first, he was too focused on where he was going to realize that the little tugs on the hem of his coat throughout the journey were suddenly gone. He looked down at both his hands and placed the shopping bags on one of them to the other so that he could use it to hold your own.

He held out his free hand behind him, calling out your name, and motioned for you to grab it. A few seconds went by of him gesturing like this only to be met with no response.

He looked back, eyebrows furrowed, only to find no sign of you.

Ushijima immediately stops in his tracks, eyes widening ever so slightly as he did a little 360 turn in his spot, raking over the crowds rushing past him in hopes he’d find your familiar head of hair bouncing about.

He stood motionless where he was, forcing people to walk around him—most wanted to tell him off for standing in the middle of the street but no one had the balls to.

A few minutes went by and he began walking down the direction he came from looking everywhere for you. Worry began to bubble in him when you were still nowhere to be found but suddenly he saw a figure waving at him from afar.

You were standing on top of those small cement blocks on the bottom street lights, waving your free hand that wasn’t wrapped around the lamp towards your boyfriend, grinning ear to ear when you met eyes with him.

Ushijima smiled in relief, shoulders relaxing as he made his way over to you. You met him halfway, immediately wrapping your arms around him in a hug, burying your face into his chest.

“I’m never letting go of your hand next time.” He said, pressing a chaste kiss on the top of your head before interlocking your fingers together. You laughed, nodding in agreement. “Definitely not.”

We all already know this: Kei is fucking ruthless

It doesn’t matter that you’re dating. It doesn’t matter that you’re literally his favorite person in the world tho he’ll never admit this to you you will not be free from his savageness

No one is more hyper-aware of your height difference than he is and no one teases you more than him

Tsukishima is literally the type to steal your things and hold them over your head or he’ll purposefully stand at full height whenever you want to kiss him just so that he can watch you struggle

“Oh, babe, I didn’t see you from down there.”

Is the type to purposefully put things you use all the time up on the top shelves in cupboards and cabinets

He says that he does this to annoy but really he does this so that you can call him to help you since he banned you from climbing the counters 🤧✋

He really loves your height though as much as he likes to tease you for it

He loves how easy it is to wrap his arms around you and how you burrow into his chest whenever you hug

His favorite thing about your height is probably the fact that it’s so comfortable being the big spoon with you since you fit so snuggly against him 🥺

again he’ll never tell you this, my man is tight-lipped

However he can get very protective over you, it’s like he developed this idea in this head that small = fragile

So whenever he loses track of you in a crowd (which happens a lot, it's honestly embarrassing) he immediately drops everything and searches for you

He’ll have this permanent pout on his face as he retraces his steps, going back to wherever you two were and keeping an eye out for either you or places that would catch your eye

Once he finally catches you, he’d sigh in relief and immediately put up his “i’m annoyed right now, give me attention” face and head over to you, knocking your head with his knuckles lightly

He’d lecture you a bit about staying close to him and he’d spend the rest of your time out with his eye on you and with his hand tightly wrapped around your own

The mall was always so crowded during the weekend especially now that Christmas was just around the corner. Tsukishima told you that you two should visit the mall later during the week but you were just so excited to see this new movie, he simply couldn’t say no; he cursed himself for being so tightly wrapped around your finger.

The building was already pretty full when you two entered the cinema but when you two emerged, it was as if the number of people there seemed to double in just a span of a few hours.

As you two made your way through the tight-knit crowds of people, the frown on Tsukishima’s face never left as people kept pushing and rushing past him. He called out your name behind him and said, “See, I told you we should have come after the weekend, it’s like half the city is here right now.”

He waited for your usual giggle or scoff, maybe a light smack on his arm as you tell him to brighten up but there wasn’t any of that.

“(Y/N)? Did you hear me? I—(Y/N?),” He turned around, worried that you may have been upset at him but instead was surprised to find that you weren’t trailing along behind him like he expected you to be.

He turned around fully, hands coming out of his pocket as he raked his eyes over the crowds of people around him. It would be nearly impossible to find you here, there were probably hundreds of people in the mall now.

Tsukishima groaned slightly as he ran a hand through his locks, his other hand going into his pant pocket to ring your phone only to realize that it was with him as well, right next to his. This elicited a second groan from the blonde.

Knowing you, you probably got distracted by something and wandered away from him.

He retraced his steps, keeping a close eye on his surroundings. He had no idea when you wandered away from him so you could have been anywhere. He stood at full height, towering over the majority of the crowd, and scanned the entirety of the floor and the shops on it.

He entered a few stores he knew you’d most likely visit; the bookstore, the pet store, and a shop that was having a 50% sale but he found no traces of you.

Tsukishima was about to give up and head to the information desk and ask them to announce something on the loudspeaker to grab your attention—probably something along the lines of “To the small gremlin wandering around floor three right now, please meet Tsukishima Kei at the main exit.”—when he spotted a bright store on the other side of the floor.

You were there. He just knew it.

He rolled his eyes as he made his way to the anime store and low and behold, there you were, crouching as you stared at the shelves of anime merchandise, a wide ear to ear grin on your face.

Tsukishima sighed and lightly smacked you, tearing you away from your thoughts and making you look up at him in shock.

“You are such an idiot, (Y/N).” You only laughed in response and wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed your face onto his chest. “Aww, Kei! Were you worried about me?”

“Of course, I was. How do you expect me to feel?” He said with another roll of his eyes. He brought his hand up and placed it on top of your head. “I was worried someone thought you were a child and kidnapped you.”

You let out an indignant gasp and started to smack him but he only laughed and took your hand in his, dragging you out of the store behind him ignoring your protests.

Nobody in the whole entire world thinks you’re more adorable than Bokuto

He adores the fact that you’re so tiny, he likes you call you his pocket-sized s/o  

He never really teases you, instead he always coos and coddles you

He especially loves lifting you up in his arms and twirling you around, he always does this after winning a game and it always leaves you feeling dizzy

But you never complain bc who would complain about being hugged by Kou like that 🤧✋

However, as much as Bokuto loves how smol you are, he always kinda forgets that you’re short??

It’s because he’s always surrounded by tall people; his friends, the volleyball team, etc.

So he always forgets to adjust when he’s with you

And you know how some people just naturally walk really really fast, like they can’t help it, it’s just how they walk normally??

Yeah, that’s Bokuto

And this paired with the fact that he is literally 6’1 means he practically travels at light speed

Your tiny legs can barely keep up with your excitable boyfriend and you’re always practically jogging to keep up with him so if you take your eyes off of him for even just a few seconds he’ll probably run off somewhere and disappear 😔✋

This occurs so often when you two are out that you’re never shocked whenever it happens

It takes a few minutes before Bokuto realizes that he’s suddenly alone in a crowd and that you aren’t beside him like he thought you would be

AND IM SORRY BUT THE FIRST THING HE’LL DO IS JUST YELL OUT YOUR NAME REPEATEDLY AT FULL VOLUME WITH NO SHAME WHATSOEVER

“(Y/N)!! WHERE ARE YOU??”

Everyone around him would give him looks but he wouldn’t care, he just needs to find you fast or he’ll start panicking tho he lowkey already is

Some people would think that he’s looking for his kid but nah, he’s just looking for his smol s/o who would show up beside him after a while with a disgruntled look on their face

It never takes long for you two to reunite when you get separated, you just have to wait for the distinctive voice of your boyfriend yelling for you somewhere

When you two find each other, the first thing he’ll do is pull you into a tight hug, usually lifting you up from the ground as he presses a few kisses on your cheeks in relief

He’ll remember to walk slowly for the rest of the time you’re out, usually with his arm over your shoulder or with his hand tightly wrapped around your own

It made absolutely no sense to you that Bokuto literally grew up in the city yet has never visited the amusement park in the area before. You’ve visited the park countless times before but for your boyfriend, it was a first.

Bokuto was practically bouncing with excitement ever since you proposed the idea of visiting the amusement park together and it only got more intense as the day of your visit grew closer and closer.

You somewhat regretted not pushing your date to a later day in the week so that it didn’t fall on the weekend since the park was so packed but that feeling quickly dissipated when you glanced at your beaming boyfriend beside you.

What you did regret however was the fact that you didn’t wear more comfortable shoes, ones that were more fitting for exercise rather than leisurely walks since you were practically running around the park just to keep up with Bokuto.

His hand remained tightly clasped on your own as he sprinted all around the park, looking at all the rides, food stands, and gift shops around the place. He wasn’t really running, he was simply walking at a quick pace but this coupled with his long legs made it so difficult to match his pace with your significantly shorter ones.

You two had just gotten off a rather intense roller coaster and you felt your head spin from how dizzy it made you, you halted in your steps as Bokuto was about to begin running towards another ride making Bokuto stop as well as he was pulled back by your hand which was still holding onto his.

“Koutarou, let me rest for a bit,” You said as you sat on a bench in the shade, Bokuto immediately nodded and took a seat beside you, he handed you a bottle of water from his bag. “Sure babe, here drink this.”

After a few minutes of talking and resting under the shade, you stood up, reinvigorated, and filled with more energy. “Okay, let’s go, I’m feeling much better now,”

Bokuto immediately jumped onto his feet and beamed at you, more than ready for another round of rollercoasters and thrilling rides. He held out his hand for you to take and you two headed farther into the park.

“Let’s go on the Viking ride next—wait, hold on, let me fix this.” You let go of your boyfriend’s hand and began adjusting the overpriced headband on your head; Bokuto insisted on buying matching ones at the gift shop despite their ridiculous price (“Look, it’s just so adorable!”)

When you looked up, ready to grab ahold of his hand again, Bokuto was suddenly nowhere to be seen.

You whipped your head all around you but you couldn’t see the familiar head of hair of your boyfriend in the horde of people around you. You stood on your tiptoes, craning your head to get a better view but that didn’t do anything to help. You feel back on your feet and huffed; curse you and your short stature.

You walked down the direction you two were originally headed at, raking your eyes over the crowds of people you walked past when you suddenly heard a familiar voice yelling out your name from a distance. You whipped your head towards the direction of the voice and began to jog towards it.

Bokuto was standing on his tiptoes, his hands cupping his mouth as he called out for you over and over again, oblivious to the looks of shock from the people around him.

As he was about to scream out your name for the dozenth time, you suddenly pushed your way through the people around him and grabbed ahold of his arm, an exasperated yet also relieved look on your face.

Bokuto’s face immediately lit up, the small frown on his lips turning into a large smile as he wrapped his arms around you. He pressed you into his chest and lifted you off the ground as he usually does when he hugs you.

You giggled and flailed around as he did this, when he placed you back safely on the ground, he placed a small kiss on your forehead.

“Sorry for leaving you behind,” Bokuto said as he laced his fingers onto your own, “It won’t happen again,”

You scoffed playfully and let yourself be dragged along by him, “That’s what you said last time, Kou.”

[httphopewrld]

I Don’t Know What to Call This | (f/m/a)

Just Friends? Friends with benefits? Dating? Questions swarmed your mind when one of your dear friends, Allie, asked about you and Hoseok’s relationship. The truth was you didn’t know. You and Hoseok were close, knowing each other since elementary school, and considered each other friends. However, as you two grew older, maturing into separate professions—you a well-known fashion designer, and Hoseok a famous musician and dancer—you two had engaged in some intimate activities (sex—lots of it.) After Allie’s simple question, you had to confront your feelings. But were you and Hoseok ready to be more than close friends and f*ck buddies?

Pairing: friend/lover/bfhoseok! x female reader

Genre: slowburn fluff and SMUT

Rating: 18+ because there’s swearing and pretty detailed smut

Warnings: swearing and SMUT (one of the most detailed smuts I've written, and there's more than one sex scene.) Smut includes: switch!reader and switch!hoseok, grinding and thrusting, protective sex (USE CONDOMS, I cannot stress that enough), lots of kissing, ass-grabbing, dirty talk, a wee bit of choking on both sides, squirting, male and female oral, fingering and handjobs, vibrator use, cyber-sex, the reader uses dildo, slight degradation, and just lots of filth—YOU'RE WELCOME FELLOW FILTHY ANIMALS. Oh, and spoilers for the horror movie Hush. It's on Netflix if you haven't watched it yet. It is GOOD.

  Word Count: 16, 465 (wowie)

A/N: Thank you for waiting! It’s rushed, so expect some little mistakes here an there, but I’m happy with how it turned out. I hope y'all enjoy it! Also, Y/L/N means "your last name."

  Taglist: @kirbykook​ @kleritata​ @taestannie​ @jenotation​ @hemmos-obrien​ @zeharilisharaban​ @speed-of-wind​ @kawaisoraya​

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

“You can move those over there,” you gestured to the left corner of the windowed room, where a pile of boxes waited. The move was going to take longer than you expected because the movers arrived a week later than your assistant, Rachel said. I really need to talk to her about this. You stressed in your mind, rubbing your temples. “Are you okay?” You looked up, vision resuming its focus on your friend, Allie. Allie, your friend for as long as you could remember, offered to help you move to your new building. She would help you manage everything, including the movers, tracking your company's items, and the layout you gave to her for said things while managing the company. “I’m just irritated at Rachel,” you noticed her confusion, “my new assistant.” She nodded, remembering, “Right. Why is she still employed?” “Because she’s new, and being an assistant is a tough feat. She’ll get it soon.” You reassured, “Rachel is a fast learner, and this is her first mistake. We’re prepared for the next show, though, because Westley's helping me organize it.” “Remind me who Westley is?” Allie asked. You sighed. “West is like my second brain. He helps organize the fashion shows, hire the models, find the venues, and secure the guest list. He has other people help him too, but he’s the brains of that. I create the fashion, and he finds a way to present it.” Allie nodded, “Gotcha.” Your phone rang, and you answered. “Y/N.” “Y/N!” Rachel chimed on the other end. “It’s Rachel. I’m so sorry about the mix-up on dates. It won’t happen again, I—” “I know it won’t, Rachel. You’re new, so I expected to slip up. I’ve gotten it taken care of,” you nudged Allie’s arm, and she smiled. “We’re luckily prepared for the next show in Vancouver, so you don’t have to worry about the mess up. All I need you to do now is make sure that my fabrics are coming in.” “Yes! They’ve arrived at the studio.” Rachel replied. "Fantastic. Thank you. That'll be all for now. Check on West if he needs anything." You ordered. “Will do, Y/N. Talk to you soon.” You hung up. The Vancouver show was in five months, giving you and your team enough time to design the clothes for the production and move to the new building. The show's theme was natural bodies of water and nature, a nod to Canada's landscape. The clothing catalogue would include various icy blue shades to represent waterfalls and warm emerald tones like flora and fauna. These colours would be encapsulated in elegant gowns and suits, worn by different body shapes, genders, and colours. The materials would be made from recycled fabrics from your previous shows and from your fellow artists. You were known for designing elegant attire, so it was best to keep to it. However, it was rare to see different sized, coloured, and gendered models on a runway; because of having to customize clothes to those models. Additionally, making clothes from recycled fabrics would be tough. “Okay,” you began, “I need to talk to my design team and plan out the gowns. Can I leave you here to deal with the movers?” Allie gave you a thumbs up. “Thank you,” you smiled, hugging her, “if you need anything, please call me or Rachel, or both. We’ll be back to help.” Before you left, a thought struck you. You turned around to face Allie. “I should just hire you.” She chuckled, “Why?” You scoffed, "Because you're here all the time!" You walked back to her. "Listen, you're the best manager I know. You can be my third brain. You already are, outside of work, so it would make sense." Allie seemed unsure. “I already have my job at Youth and Hope.” You grasped her hands. “You would be given a great wage, not just because you’re my best friend, but because you’re going to be busy with lots of work. You would be handling the management tasks, like West. You’d be given a good amount of vacation, trips for shows and meetings would be paid for—you could get that loft you always wanted downtown.” You wiggled your eyebrows, and Allie laughed. “Don’t I have to go through an interview process?” You brushed a hand through the air. “I can get someone to interview you and officially hire you. Once that’s done, you’ll start getting paid.” You checked your watch, and a quick rush of panic ran through you. “Shit, I’m going to be late. Consider it, alright! Let me know your availability, and we’ll schedule an interview!” “Okay!” She shouted back as you left. . . The coffee had become bitter. You weren’t sure if it was the roast or the fact that this was your fourth cup of the night. It had been a month since the fabrics arrived. Thanks to Allie, your friend and now employee, your move to the new building was complete; however, your designs weren’t translating as smoothly as you wish. "Fuck," you cursed, resting your head in your hands and rubbing your temples. The sketches waited in front of you—the measurements and ideas raking at your confidence. Your designs are redundant. You’ve done something similar last time.                                                                       Boring. Plain. You turned back to your mannequins, still bare. The theme was in your mind, and your design team reassured you that your sketches were fine, but it all felt fuzzy. “Y/N,” Rachel peered into the studio from the door, “there’s a gentleman here to see you.” “His name?” You asked, still looking at the mannequins. You heard footsteps retreat into the front lobby, then come back to the door. “Jung Hoseok?” You turned around, trying to contain your excitement. “Please send him in.” Rachel nodded, jogging back to the lobby. You heard a muffled “thank you” before heavy footsteps approaching your studio. Hoseok reached the doorway, beaming his signature smile. He wore acid-washed jeans, a baggy white sweater that matched his chunky light sneakers. His dark hair was slightly wavy and parted in the middle. A tote bag was slung over his shoulder. “Y/N!” He cheered, opening his arms wide. “Hoseok!” You replied, running into his arms and hugging him tightly. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw Hoseok—a year or two? “Fuck, how long has it been?” You asked him. He pulled away, thinking. “About six months?” Totally off. “Seriously, it felt longer than that.” You argued. Hoseok pulled out his phone and scrolled through his calenderer and photos. He made a ‘tsk’ sound. “Ah, see here,” he showed you a few photos of you two with his friends, who were also his bandmates, “six months ago, you joined us on tour for a couple days before coming back here. I have it also marked in my calendar.” He showed you the dates, which were marked with ‘💚Y/N’s visit💚.’ “Can Namjoon or Yoongi confirm this?” You crossed your arms. Hoseok mimicked your body language. “I can call them right now,” he challenged. You two stood in competitive tension. You succumbed. “You win this time, Jung Hoseok.” He playfully chuckled. You realized that Hoseok doesn’t live around here. “Wait, why are you in town. Shouldn’t you and the others be in Korea planning another album or something?” You speculated. “Our company gave us a month for vacation because we spent most of the year touring.” Hoseok sighed. “So, I decided to come to visit.” You hugged him again, happy to see someone who wasn’t your employee amidst this chaos of stress. “How long are you staying?” You asked, muffled against his chest. He paused. “Maybe a month?” You pulled away from him, shocked. “A month? Here? That’s all your vacation time.” “Yeah,” he replied, as if that wasn’t a big deal, “I didn’t want to travel to a bunch of places because the group and I have been doing that for almost a year—and it’s pretty chill in this area.” He sighed. “Besides, I don’t think many people would recognize me. The airport wasn’t busy, and I haven’t been swarmed by fans yet.” “Do you have a place to stay?” You asked. He nodded. “Yup! I’m staying at a fancy hotel. I got the suite at the top floor,” he made a gesture with his hand, indicating how high up his suite was. You playfully elbowed his side. "Wow, look at you, Mr. Famous. You can afford a top suite now. Are you sure you don't want to stay with me, though?” Hoseok dismissed your offer with a wave of his hand. “It’s alright, Y/N. Thank you, though.” He peered over your shoulder, “It looks like you’re busy anyway, so I think I’ll just stick to my suite.” He walked past you, over to the bare mannequins. “Are you preparing for that show in Vancouver that you told me about?” You nodded, relaying your theme and ideas to him. He smiled. “That sounds really cool,” he pointed to the mannequins, “but don’t you need some clothes for the show, then?” You rolled your eyes, chuckling at him for being a smart ass. “Yes, I do. I’m brainstorming some ideas right now, but I’m coming up with nothing. I have the design team coming in tomorrow with drafts, but I’d like to bring my own thing to the table, you know? I’m the main brain of this operation, and it’d be embarrassing if I come in with zilch.” You leaned against one of the tables, facing the mannequins. "The tough part is designing gowns that fit the right people, you know. Sure, you can make a collection of clothes, but they won't look good if they don't fit the models." You shook your head. "Maybe it's just tougher to design clothes for different bodies. I should just stick to one type of person and leave it at that." Hoseok walked up beside you, leaning against the same table and facing the figures. “Why don’t you find the models and then design the clothes?” You looked at him, surprised. “But wouldn’t that take a long time?” He crossed his arms, “Well, how many models would you need?” “We’re thinking around seventy. There’s going to be two changes within the show.” Hoseok nodded, and you could see him brainstorming. “Well, you have four months left, right? You and your team can make some drafts, cast the models, and finalize the ideas with said models. Which would take about a couple of months? You could do that while planning the show?” He paused, appearing to notice your hesitant expression. “Think about it. You’ve trained your team well enough to work on its own, right? That’s what you did for your last show, which was a success. You came in every day for a couple hours to make sure everything was in order, then focused on other things.” Hoseok grasped your hands. “You’re great at multitasking, so do it. It’s scary, but you can check on people every day to make sure everything’s alright.” You bit your lip, “I-I don’t know, Hoseok. That sounds like a lot of work—” “You did it last time, and it worked out just fine,” he gently squeezed your hands, “and I’m here for a month. I can help out whenever you need me. I’ll simply clean things up and fetch coffee if that’s what you need.” You laughed, “Like my intern?” “Yeah! I don’t know how to design anything or plan a fashion show, but I’ll do what I can.” He smiled. “You’re so much more than you think, Y/N, and if you need reminders, I’ll be here.” You smiled back at him, so grateful to have him here. “My god, you’re fucking sweet,” you scoffed, taking your hands out of his. Hoseok laughed. You pushed yourself off the table and faced him. “How did we even become friends?” You questioned. He actually gave it a thought. “You joined by dance club in elementary school, when no one else would.” He laughed so hard that he teared up. “I think we actually took club photos, and it was only you and I posing.” You laughed with him, remembering those days spent trying to breakdance to hip hop and presenting dance routines to your parents. “Yeah, that was before you joined that Music Academy in grade four, right?” He nodded, and you sighed, surprised you still remembered. Your mind came back to the present. “So, you’re actually okay with helping out?” You checked. “Why would I ask if I didn’t want to?” Hoseok replied. You tapped your index finger against your temple, “true.” “So, how much do you want?” Hoseok looked offended at your question. You chuckled. “Well, you’re going to work for me, so I need to pay you.” “It’s only just a month, though.” “Yeah, but—” “What about we see how much you have me do before you pay me?” He interrupted. “I might just have to fetch coffee, so you can just give me money on the spot.” You thought about it for a minute. Hoseok yawned. “This work talk is making me tired. Do you want to go out for dinner?” He looked around you, “Unless you have more work to do. I can always wait in the lobby for you to finish.” You brushed your hand through the air, “Nah, it’s okay. I’m pretty brain dead anyway. I need to be energized for tomorrow’s draft review.” Hoseok pushed himself off the table and clapped. “Awesome! Where do you think I’m taking you for dinner?” You bit your lip, trying to guess. “Sushi?” “Sushi it is!” He beamed. You grabbed your things and followed him out of the studio.

Both of you sat towards the back of the sushi restaurant, to Hoseok’s request. The waitress placed you two in a concealed booth, with drapes covering a small entrance.

You two had to take your shoes off before sitting down.

“Why did you say, ‘sushi it is?’” You asked, taking a sip of your water.

Hoseok opened his can of sprite, “What do you mean?”

“You asked where I thought you were taking me, I responded, and you said, ‘sushi it is!’” You reiterated.

He took a sip of his soda before responding, "It's a trick I learned from Instagram." He set his drink down. "You ask someone, 'where do you think I'm taking you for food?' dinner or whatever, and then take them to a place with that food. It's easier than asking 'what do you want to eat?' because people can't decide."

You nodded, making an ‘aaahhh’ sound. “Smart.”

You two caught up while eating your meals. Hoseok chatted about his bandmates and the tour, and you talked about your move to the new building.

Most of it was just adding more details about your lives because you two texted lots during the week and sometimes video chatted. You'd get to see Hoseok and his friends, and he'd get a view of your life on the other side of the world.

To others, it looked like both of you were dating. Both of your friends would tease, singing, "Y/N and Hoseok sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G." Many of his fans, ARMY, would theorize your friendship, pointing out the matching bracelets you two wore—which was later proved normal because Hoseok went live on Vlive making bracelets for his bandmates.

And you two would continually clarify that you two were strictly long-time friends. Nothing more.

Girls and boys can be friends. Simple as that.

You and Hoseok finished your meals. You two shared a few rolls and a bento box and were full.

“That was really good.” You commented, rubbing your stomach.

Hoseok chuckled, copying you, “I think I’m pregnant.”

You laughed, “Shut up! You’re so fit.”

“You’re right,” he replied, pulling up his sleeves and flexing his arms.

You both laughed as he flexed his muscles, which were significantly more prominent than your remembered. You were slightly jealous of his lean athletic figure.

And were gazing at it for too long.

“I don’t know about you,” Hoseok sighed, appearing to be tired from the food and flexing his muscles, “but I’m in the mood for some Ben and Jerry’s.”

Your eyes lit up. “YES.”

“Cookie dough with chunks?” You both said in unison.

You two erupted in laughter.

"I'll go play," Hoseok said, getting up.

You stopped him, “It’s alright,” you smiled, “my treat.”

Before you left the booth, you turned around and said thoughtfully, "But you're getting the ice cream."

Hoseok's expression conveyed the same seriousness as if a soldier on a mission.

He saluted you. “Copy that, Y/N.”

You saluted him back and left to pay.

The walk to Ben and Jerry’s was quick. Both of you were eager to share the tub of ice cream.

You ended up getting a chocolate chip cookie dough and a cherry Garcia pint, and two spoons to share. You both ate the ice creams with delight while walking back to your apartment building.

When arriving at your building, Hoseok handed you the cookie dough ice cream pint.

“What are you doing?” You asked while he gave you the closed pint.

He tilted his head to the side, confused. “What do you mean? I’m dropping you off at your place.”

You gave a shocked expression. “Dropping me off? We’re not even done our pints!”

“But you have work tomorrow. I don’t want to keep you up.” Hoseok stepped back towards the edge of the sidewalk. “I can catch a cab back to the hotel, don’t worry.”

You balanced the pints in one hand and used your other to grab his arm.

“You’re not going anywhere,” you said, pulling away from the curb and closer to your building.

Hoseok pulled his arm out of your grip. "Y/N, you need to be well-rested—"

“At least help me finish the ice cream.” You interrupted, holding up the pints that were now in both your hands, along with your spoon.

“We haven’t seen each other six months, and it’s only…”

Hoseok pulled out his phone. “Nine.”

“Exactly!” You expressed. “It’s only nine. I don’t need to be in until nine-thirty tomorrow morning. As long as you’re out by eleven, that gives me an hour to get ready for bed at twelve, and I will wake up at eight. Plenty of rest!”

You watched his unsure expression.

"If you don't want to go home at eleven, that's fine by me. Could you leave earlier? Or you can go back to your hotel if you want. I won't take offence; you know me." You held up your arms in surrender, ice cream pints still in your hands. "But if you're leaving because you're worried that I won't get enough sleep, don't. I'm a grown woman. I know how to take care of myself, and I want you to come in.

Hoseok bit his lip, appearing to debate the offer.

He sighed. "Fine, I'll come in. However, I don't want to get a text from you complaining about being tired in the morning."

“I swear,” you promised, pretending to draw an ‘x’ over your heart, “I cross my heart.”

Hoseok chuckled, and you led the two of you into your apartment building and into the elevator. You pressed the twentieth button, and you two waited in comfortable silence.

The elevator doors opened, and you two walked to your apartment.

You opened the door to your studio apartment, locking the door behind you two and hanging up your bag along with your keys.

“Want anything to drink?” You asked, setting down the ice cream pint in your hand and taking off your coat.

Hoseok set down the cookie dough pint on the coffee table. “Anything is alright, thanks,”

You hummed, getting both of you bottles of black cherry soda and bringing over the cherry Garcia pint and your spoon.

"Jesus, do you need help?" Hoseok asked with worry, seeing you holding the bottles by their necks in one hand and the ice cream pint and spoon in the other.

You chuckled, “It’s alright, just sit down.”

You two sat on the couch, twisting off the caps on your sodas and taking a sip.

Hoseok sighed. “That’s really good,” he gestured to the pop before putting it down on the coffee table.

“Yeah! They’re so addictive,” you replied, setting coasters under both of your drinks.

Both of you continued to reminisce about your childhood, especially middle school. The puberty years had been gruesome to you two, speckling your faces with acne.

You pulled out a photo album you kept on one of your bookshelves, which had pictures of your families and your younger selves—even photos when Hoseok was training, before debuting with BTS in 2013.

“Oh my god, look at you!” You gasped, showing him a picture.

In the photo, Hoseok arms were crossed over his chest, his attempt at having swagger. He wore a collared shirt, and his hair was short.

“Oh god, no,” Hoseok cringed, gently pushing the photo away.

You chuckled, "You were so adorable, always dancing and having a good time." You smiled. "You are such a hard worker, practicing so much. I remember you twisting your ankle but still practicing."

You looked at him tenderly. “I wish people could see that.”

Hoseok smiled back at you, softly touching your hand. You grasped his hand, feeling butterflies in your stomach.

He was the first to pull away.

“You remember our sleepovers?” He asked.

You giggled, "Yeah when you could leave that cramped place you shared with the boys."

He swatted your arm, “That apartment was good! It was where everything started.” He pouted. “Anyways, we would always look up deep questions to ask each other—or would you rather.”

You rolled your eyes. “Those questions were overrated.”

“I thought they were nice!” Hoseok defended. “We got to know each other more, like, ‘what is your biggest fear?’ or ‘what is your biggest pet peeve?’”

He must've seen your unimpressed expression because he continued, "You got to admit that you learned a bit more about me because of those questions!"

You sighed. “I did, I guess.”

Hoseok held up his index finger, seeming to signal ‘wait a minute.’

He pulled out his phone. “Let’s try some now, then.”

“Hoseok—”

“Come on,” he interrupted. “If you don’t learn anything new about me from the first four questions we do, then we can stop, alright? I will never bring up these questions ever again.”

You debated his offer.

“Fine.” You agreed, setting down the photo album. “Shoot.”

“Okay, but we both pick two questions and answer all of them. For example, when we ask a question, the other person answers before the picker.” Hoseok said while he scrolled.

You hummed, understanding his instructions.  

“Want to do would you rather?”

“Sure.”

"Sexy edition?" Hoseok wiggled his eyebrows. "Unless you're uncomfortable."

You scoffed. “Hobi, we're grown, adults. I can take a few sexual questions."

“Okay,” Hoseok replied, “but if you ever feel uncomfortable, we can choose another question or stop.”

You nodded, and Hoseok appeared to find what he was looking for.

“Alright,” he began, “would you rather bite someone’s ear during sex or bite someone’s lip during sex?”

This is pretty vanilla. You thought.

"Lip, for sure." You emphasized the 'sure' in your sentence, stringing along with the 'er' sound.

“Same,” Hoseok agreed while passing you his phone.

You took his cell and strolled through the website.

What do I choose? Do I just dive in, or go for the vanilla shit?

“Would you rather engage in foreplay or go right into the main course?” You asked.

Hoseok thought about it. “I would say foreplay. You can warm things up—and nothing is more fun than teasing.” He shimmied, making you two laugh.

You agreed, passing the phone to him.

“Oooo, here’s a classic,” he grinned, “top or bottom?”

“I think I’m a switch,” you replied.

He tilted his head.

“It’s like, you’re both, top and bottom. I like to take control sometimes, but I can also sub.” You explained. “You?”

“Top,” he replied, “for sure.”

You laughed, “You sound so against being a bottom.”

He laughed too. “I like pleasuring the person I’m having sex with. Nothing is more satisfying than making someone cum.”

“True,” you admitted.

You found your mind wandering to unholy memories of you and Hoseok. What was odd about your friendship that—to put it blatantly—you two had sex. Not just once, but a few times.

This is why asking these questions was pretty casual and not too surprising.

You two started engaging in sex a couple years ago. You were stressed about your company starting, and Hoseok was in town. He offered to help you relax, and before you knew it, he was drilling into you from behind.

Both of you agreed to stay friends but continued to have sex every now and then. It was great, you had to admit. Probably the best sex you had in your life, and it was good that you two were able to keep your friendship platonic at the same time. Only, it was sex without the romantic feelings.

To be honest, you were craving it again.

He passed you his phone again, and you tried to pick a good last question.

“Would you rather kiss me gently or kiss me aggressively?” You asked.

Hoseok paused before answering. “Depends on the mood.”

“Well, at this moment, then, what is the mood?”

You watched Hoseok’s eyes shift between your lips then your eyes.

“Aggressively.”

You hummed. “Good to know.” You passed him back his phone. “Last question.”

Hoseok chuckled, “You seriously didn’t learn anything new?”

You shrugged. “I guess not.”

He didn't seem bothered, though, when his body shifted closer to yours.

When he looked back up at you, his expression changed. Although his eyes were already an opaque shade of brown, they had darkened.

I know that look.

He smirked. “Would you rather make the first move or receive the first move?”

You bit your lip, gazing up at his body.

Before you could reconnect with his eyes, you heard his phone drop, and his lips were on yours.

Just like his answer, his kisses were aggressive and needy. You could taste the cherry cola and ice cream on his lips and mouth.

You pulled his face closer, wanting more.

Hoseok’s body language opened up, allowing you to get up and straddle his lap. You felt his hands inch up your shirt and tug at the fabric. He helped you take it off, which gave him access to your breasts.

You felt him undo your bra with a quick flick of his fingers, and you tossed it off without a care.

Hoseok let out a chuckle before claiming your lips with his.

His lips were intoxicating, and you wanted more.

“Please touch me,” you begged against his lips.

He hummed, grazing his hands down your back before roughly grabbing your ass. You moaned, and he held you against him, hard enough to feel him grind into you.

“Fuck, stop teasing,” you pulled away, and he laughed.

“Baby, I’m not teasing,” he smirked.

Baby. The term of endearment made your heart swoon.

You weren’t always this infatuated by Hoseok. But the way he came to visit you during his break, had dinner and ice cream with you, and kissed you this good—it made you want more than just a fling.

But you couldn't think that way. It was sex. You two were doing this to get off, not engage in lovemaking.

Hoseok swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, eyeing your figure. “You know what I want.”

You ran your hand up and down his chest. “What are you waiting for?”

Hoseok's hands came underneath your thighs, and he picked you up, walking you to your bedroom. He used your body to close the door, slamming you against it.

He ground himself against your core, causing you to moan louder than you expected.

You covered your mouth in embarrassment.

Hoseok chuckled, “It’s okay,” he pulled away enough to graze his thumb over your cheek, “I love it when you moan.”

You rolled your eyes, kissing him and grabbing his ass, causing him to grind on your core.

"Fuck, I can practically feel that you wet," he groaned, trying his best to hold you up and sturdy you against the door.

“B-bed,” you choked, one of his particular thrusts stroking perfectly against you.  

Hoseok moved you towards your bed and gingerly placed you down. He kissed down your bare chest and slowly took off your pants and underwear.

“Fuck, your perfect,” Hoseok awed, softly running a finger through your wet heat.

His cold finger sent a wave of pleasure through you, making you flinch.

Hoseok hummed. “So wet for me,”

He looked up at you. “May I?”

You nodded, but he only smirked.

“Words, baby,” he put a hand to his ear.

“Please,” you bit down on your lip.

You felt him spread your lips, and you clenched in response. He appeared to savour you, taking his time as he ate you out.

When you moaned, he’d hum, sending vibrations into your heat that brought you closer to your climax.

“Fuck, I’m close—”

He pulled away, licking his lips and gazing down at you.

“Hoseok—”

“You taste better than I remembered,” he commented. “But I want you to cum around me.”

God, I love his dirty talk.

You watched him take off his clothes. He must've been working out because he was more toned than six months ago.

He was about to line himself up with your entrance, but you stopped him with your foot on his chest.

You smirked. “Not yet, baby.”

You stood up. “Sit.”

Hoseok sat on the bed, your roles shifting.

“But I want—”

You interrupted his beg with your hand around his erect cock. He appeared to be speechless as you run your hand up and down his shaft.

“Hm?” You asked, chuckling lightly at how easy it was to make him submit. “What do you want, baby?”

“I-I wanted,” he stuttered, thrusting slightly into your hand, “to cum inside you.”

“Is that so?” You questioned, pulling your hand away.

Despite his vocalized want, he whined when you pulled away.

“I’m only doing what my baby wants,” you shrugged. “Condoms are in the bottom drawer on the right.”

Hoseok dashed over to the bedside table, rummaging for the condoms.

“Those should fit you, right?”

"Yes," he replied, opening the familiar wrapper and unravelling it on his erect member.  

He stood there for a minute, wrapped penis and naked, just fondly looking at your nude figure.

He whispered something under his breath.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” Hoseok blushed. “You still want to fuck?”

“Yes.”

“Top or bottom?”

“Top please,” you smiled.

Hoseok laid down on your bed, and you climbed onto his torso.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he cursed as you moved off his abs and onto his cock.

A wet puddle was left on his abdomen, which he wiped away with his fingers, then putting said fingers into his mouth.

“So good,” he groaned.

You hummed in response, slowly sinking onto him.

"Fuck, you feel so good," you said when you bottomed out.

You started moving, swaying your hips back and forth. Each time Hoseok's cock would graze against your g-spot.

His hands were placed on your hips, guiding you on him. You could feel yourself clenching around him and your climax building up.

“I-I’m close,” you stuttered.

Hoseok swallowed, “Me too.”

“Ch-choke me,” you requested as you picked up your pace.

Hoseok grinned. “Only if you choke me back.”

You chuckled and rolled your eyes. Hoseok gently wrapped his hand around your neck, and you did the same, slowly applying pressure.

You felt your thighs burn from exhaustion. "F-fuck me," you cursed, slowing down.

Both of you let go of each other's neck, and Hoseok flipped you two over, still inside you.

"It's okay," Hoseok assures before resuming the pace.

His thrusts were rough and deep, and he pushed your thighs against your chest.

“Fuck, please keep going,” you begged.

“Can I choke you?” Hoseok asked.

“Please,” you replied, “do you want me to choke you too?”

“Yes,” Hoseok responded.

You felt yourself rhythmically clench around him. Hoseok must’ve realized because he began thrusting faster into you.

The room was filled with unholy noises. You could hear the wet sounds of your entrance and the impact of Hoseok’s hips against your core.

“Fuck don’t stop,” you choked out.

The knot building up in your abdomen unravelled, and pleasure and relaxation spread through your body. Your core gripped onto Hoseok like a vice.

“H-Hoseok,” you stammered, your core overstimulated.

“I-I want you to squirt,” he replied, continuing his firm thrusts.

“Oh,” you moaned.

He pounded deeper into your core, to the point where you could feel his tip ram against your cervix.

“Ah!” You screamed, feeling yourself gush around him.

“Fuck, so good,” Hoseok groaned. “I-I’m cumming.”

You felt the condom fill up inside you, and you felt disappointed that his cum couldn’t coat your walls.

His thrusts slowed down, and he stood still for a few moments.

When he pulled out, you shivered with oversensitivity. You knew that your sheets would be a mess and weren't looking forward to cleaning them when Hoseok left.

You looked up at the ceiling, breathless, while you heard Hoseok walk away from the bed.

“Where do you put your towels?” He asked.

“In the hallway, in the closet beside the dryer and washing machine.” You replied.

You heard him walk into the hallway and the closet door open and close. “Thanks,” he said. “And your bedsheets?”

“The closet in my room.”

You heard him walk back into your room, open your walk-in closet that led into your bathroom, and shuffle around. The tap ran in your bathroom for a couple seconds, then the sound of Hoseok wringing out something.

You began to sit up, but he hushed you to lie back down.

“Just relax,” he soothed, placing the clean bedsheets on your bedside table and walking over to you with a damp cloth.

“You don’t have to—”

He placed a hand on your thigh. “It’s okay,” he reassured.

You two exchanged a quick smile before Hoseok began to clean you up.

“You didn’t even cum on me,” you chuckled as he gently wiped your inner thighs.

“I know,” he replied, “but I still made you messy.”

When your thighs were no longer covered in your cum, you two changed your bedsheets.

“You good sleep in the same bed?” You asked while folding over your duvet.

“Sure,” He smiled.

You walked into your closet. "There should be some clothes that fit you. I usually wear men's clothes at home, anyways. It's crazy how great the quality men's clothes are compared to women's clothes." You picked out a t-shirt and sweatpants and tossed them at Hoseok.

He caught them, “Thanks.”

You two showered separately and spent the time getting ready together dancing to tunes.

If someone were to walk into the room, it wouldn’t look or smell like you two just had sex. You two looked like close friends having a dance party before going to bed.

Again, after you two had sex the first time, you both agreed to stay friends. It was easier said than done.

It was awkward initially, but you both were able to get past that by talking it through. Hoseok would ask how you felt during sex and what could have been better, and you would return the question.

Now, you both were able to have a good time and intimately learn more about each other.

Sure, it was strange, but it was a mutual agreement between consenting adults and fun.

The sex was fun—great, really—and you couldn’t have it any other way.

But you would be lying to yourself if you didn’t feel like something was missing.

.

.

“Good morning, everyone,” you greeted your fellow designers, “this is Hoseok. If you don’t know him already, he’s a well-known musician and one of my closest friends.”

Everyone welcomed Hoseok with a warm round of applause.

“Thank you, it’s a pleasure to be here.” Hoseok thanked.

“Hoseok will be helping out here and there while he’s vacationing here for a month,” you explained, “so take it easy on him.”

People shared chuckles at your joke.

"Anyways, let's start looking over the design ideas. You all are very talented artists, and I want you to remember that this is a draft, which means that these ideas are not final. If your idea is rejected, it's okay. We'll continue to work on a collective theme for the show."

The morning was spent listening to everyone's design concepts. To follow your reputation, the designs were contained within suits and gowns. As mentioned before, the theme was Vancouver's nature, where the fashion show would be taking place.

You and your design team used the recycled fabrics—which were separated by colours, textures, and materials—while figuring out your drafts.

You asked your design team to draft some ideas because you couldn't think of anything to present.

You were pleasantly surprised that your whole team had ideas that you approved.

“This a phenomenal,” you awed, “Great job, Erinn.”

“Actually,” you grabbed the attention of the other team members, “you all did a great job. We will be using all these ideas for the show.”

Your team shared cheers.

“Y/N,” Rachel nudged your shoulder, “I’m sorry to ask, but now that we’ve got the designs all in order, what about the models? You wanted to have various body types, right?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got that covered,” you whispered back.

You turned back to your design team. "You all know that this show is tougher than our last one because we are trying to include more body types, genders, races, just different kinds of people. Which means that we will need to cater our clothes to the models, rather than the other way around.” You smiled, “So you all can go home for the next week.”

You heard Rachel choke on her inhale.

"Although you all have the week off, I want you all to try drawing your designs on other body types. Experiment with materials and colours. Remember to take some of the recycled fabrics home with you, and feel free to come in to pick anything up. Just let Rachel and I know in advance, and we'll give notice to the front desk so they can let you in. When we reconvene in a week, which would be next Friday at nine-thirty, I need you all to be ready to translate your designs, colours, and materials to our models." You ordered.

“Any questions?”

Comfortable silence amongst everyone.

You nodded. "Awesome. Good luck, everyone. Contact me if you have any questions."

Your team started packing up.

“Y/N, does that mean we’re spending the next week casting?” Rachel asked.

“Yes, Rachel. Please contact Westly and schedule lunch tomorrow at noon to discuss modelling criteria. It’s probably going to be pretty loose, but we need to contact Westly before sending it out.” You answered. “If he’s not free at that time, try figuring out something later tomorrow. Then book a reservation for three at Romeo’s.”

“Alright, on it,” Rachel replied.

You turned to Hoseok, who seemed shocked.

“What?” You blushed.

He continued his surprised expression. “I haven’t seen you like this before.”

You chuckled. “How else are you supposed to run a company and organize and execute a fashion show in 3 months?”

Rachel tapped you on the shoulder. "Westly can do lunch tomorrow, at noon, at Romeo's. He and his team secured the venue with Vancouver Fashion Week and are currently collaborating with the interior designers to figure out how the place will look. West said he'll debrief you tomorrow, at lunch, about the rest of the progress."

You smiled. “Great! Thank you, Rachel. You can also take the rest of the day off.”

Rachel appeared to be stunned, not responding to your words.

You waved a hand in front of her face. “Rachel? You can take the rest of the day off.”

“Are you sure, Y/N?” She asked.

You chuckled, “I wouldn’t be telling you to if I wasn’t sure, would I?”

She gave it a thought. “I guess not.”

You grinned. “Just meet me at our main building tomorrow, at eleven-thirty, and we’ll go to Romeo’s together.”

Rachel nodded. “Thank you, Y/N,”

“No worries,” you smiled.

You and Hoseok watched her leave, leaving you two alone in the studio.

“I’m sorry, it passed my mind. You’re okay not joining us for lunch tomorrow, right?” You asked Hoseok.

He dismissed your apology by brushing a hand through the air, “It’s all good. You’ve got your shit to do.” He smiled, “It gives me time to tour around a bit, anyways.”

“Good,” you replied. “So, where to?”

You pulled apart the croissant, eating pieces one at a time. The butteriness covered your tongue in a warmth that mixed well with the iced coffee you and Hoseok shared.

The park was surprisingly empty, despite it being a Friday. Usually, it would be tough to find a spot decently away from others, mostly shaded by trees.

The inlet was a few meters away, allowing you two to see sailboats pass by. People also kayaked and canoed, and you could hear their laughter faintly on land.

Here, you and Hoseok would be shielded by looming trees and away from potential fans of Hoseok. It was a rarity to have those two things when spending time with Hoseok: privacy and security—peace and quiet.

“This is what you wanted to do?” You asked, finishing off the croissant.

He nodded, sipping the iced coffee. “Yeah. It’s quiet and nice here.”

You two people watched, enjoying the breeze and serene environment.

“I was thinking,” you cleared your throat, “about last night. Did you enjoy it?”

Hoseok set down the iced coffee. “Yeah. I always like hanging out with you.”

“I mean—the sex.”

He seemed shocked by your question.

“Yeah, that was good too. Why do you ask? You never brought up before.” He pointed out.

Because I am growing feelings for my childhood friend, who I now have sex with for fun. This wasn't a part of the agreement, I know. We agreed to not grow feelings for each other and just have sex for pleasure. But it's inevitable to develop feelings for someone you have sex for, right? Like, there are probably people out there that can distinguish sex from love—and I guess it started out like that—but for us?

Am I crazy?

“No reason,” you sighed. “I just wanted to know if there was anything I could have done better.”

Hoseok turned his body to you, smiling. “It was perfect.”

He gestured with his arms for a hug, and you obliged. His cologne smelt of freshly peeled oranges; it was a pleasant fragrance, and you found yourself snuggling closer.

.

.

The past month went by in a busy blur.

The model casting went well. You and Westley found fantastic individuals to present your clothing line, which was in the process of being altered to fit those people.

The venue was secured, and the guest list was being made by You and Westley.

“Maybe invite Hoseok,” Westley suggested.  

You shook your head, “I can’t.”

"Why not?" He retorted. "The worse thing he could say is 'no,' and you can invite the whole band." He giggled. "Maybe I can meet Jimin in person."

You chuckled, “So that’s why you want me to invite Hoseok. Just because you made eye contact with Jimin for more than five seconds, it doesn’t mean that he’s into you. He’s straight.”

“How do you know?” Westley had a hand firmly on his hip.

“W-well, I haven’t asked him personally—”

"Then you can't assume he's straight!" Westley exclaimed. "The baseline isn't being heterosexual."

“True. Anyways, let’s get back to the guest list.” You chewed on your lip. “We have Harry Styles, BLACKPINK, Lizzo…”

Both of you ran down the list of a thousand attendees to the show in Vancouver. It was way smaller than fashion week or any of your previous shows, but it wasn't meant to be a big party.

Y/N [14:00]: Hey! Are you free and the boys on March 1st at 1 pm for about four hours, including an after-party until 10 pm, with food?

Hoseok [14:30]: Hiiiiii!! Sorry for the late text. I was asking the others. Yeah! That’s in 4 months? 🧐

Y/N [14:31]: Yeah, it’s for my fashion show. You can ask your company for that time? We’d provide the plane tickets and accommodation. You’d probably stay 3 days and 2 nights? You’d fly in the first day, sleep the one night, then attend the show the second day, sleep the second night, and fly out the 3rd day. I’ll need to know by the end of the week.

Hoseok [14:32]: Sounds good!!! I’ll ask my managers and let you know 👊

Y/N [14:33]: Awesome! Thanks 💚

Hoseok [14:33]: Np 💚

“So, Hoseok and the boys can come, but he has to confirm with his managers. He’ll let me know soon.” You relayed to Westley.

"Great! As long as we get confirmation from Hoseok at the end of this week, we can send out the invitations. We've checked with everyone's management, and they all seem to be busy. Worse comes to worst; we'll just have to move seats around." Westley advised.

He closed his laptop, and you followed.

“Alright, that seems to be all of the guest list business. I’ll get my team to start organizing plane tickets and accommodation.” He sighed, “shall we head to the studio to check on the design team?”

“Yes,” you replied.

Both of you were driven to the studio to check on the design team.

The studio was filled with models of various shades and shapes. Music played quietly in the background, and your coworkers and models grooved to the tunes. Designers pinned fabrics around people’s figures and sketched down measurements and ideas.

You and Westley went around checking on everyone, making sure gowns and suits were well in progress. A smaller group of people created ideas for shoes and were sending them out to shoemakers.

The rest of the day was spent getting to know the models, fixing measurements, finalizing some ideas, and briefing everyone about the plan for the next two months.

"Please have the gowns, suits, and shoes by the end of this month so we can start having the makeup artists consult all of you; to make sure the makeup correlates with the clothes and the models." You informed. "Thank you, everyone, for your amazing work."

Scattered “thank you”s responded, and our workday was over.

“You want to get some drinks?” Westley nudged.

You nodded, frankly too tired to answer but eager for a drink.

Both of you decided to walk to the high-class bar, which allowed private areas in the back for paying customers. You and Westley sat alone, away from the crowds of people near the entrance of the bar.

“To having a productive three months,” Westley sang, holding up his martini.

You sighed, “Cheers,” you tapped your peach Bellini glass against his, admitting a chime.

"Fuck," Westley cursed at the sip of his drink, "they're always stronger than I remember. "Anyways, the show is pretty much underway. Guestlist is handled, the venue is prepped and ready for us, the clothing is almost done. Oooo, I can’t wait to see it all together.”

You nodded.

“You don’t seem so excited, Y/N.”

“I am,” you replied.

“But?”

“I am excited.” You affirmed, although not living up to the word

Westley silenced, knowing when not to push your buttons.

He took a careful sip of his martini. “Where’s Hoseok?”

You fidgeted with your glass. "Hoseok went back to Korea. He only had a month of vacay, so," you left the sentence adrift.

“Did you enjoy his company?”

“Can we not talk about him right now? I rather not mix work and personal life.” You stated.

Westley acknowledged with a firm nod, finishing off his martini and asking for another.

“May I ask a question?”

“Sure.” You replied.

He cringed. “But if I ask, promise me you won’t fire me.”

You turned to him. “Depends on your question. You have to ask me first, then I can decide whether or not to fire you. I cannot make promises.”

“Why are you so off all of a sudden?” He genuinely asked.

You took a deep breath. “I’m not going to fire you, not for a long time. You’re my best worker, and I can’t let you go.”

"I feel like there's going to be a 'but' somewhere. Might as well rip off the Band-Aid." Westley sighed.

You nodded, “You’re right. And you’re right about my mood. I’ve been kind of off lately.”

“Because of Hoseok?”

"Yeah, to be honest." You admitted. "I feel like we're really close—more than just friends. We're on the same wavelength, you know? And whenever we're apart for a long time and then meet up again, it's like time has passed."

“And let me guess, you haven’t told him because you’re afraid to ruin your friendship.”

You scoffed. “There’s no need for sarcasm, West.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed. “I’m just saying, it’s the oldest narrative in the book. One friend is falling for the other, and that one friend doesn’t want to confess their feelings because they’ve known the other person for years and are afraid of ruining that connection.” He took a sip of his martini. “But in the end, it’s two friends just pining over their feelings of love for each other.”

“But we’re different.” You argued.

"I guess so. The narrative doesn't really specify one friend is a famous fashion designer and the other being a famous musician—"

“I mean,” you interrupted, “we have sex every time we see each other.

Westley's mouth fell open in a silent gasp. His hand was placed on his chest, and his eyes stared into yours.

He tipped back his martini into his mouth, finishing it off. “Well, you didn’t mention the friends with benefits part.”

“I know!” You groaned. “That’s why it’s so complicated.”

"Is it really, though? Wouldn't confessing your feelings after you two have had sex so much make it slightly easier? Because it makes sense to grow feelings for someone you've known for a while and have had sex with on multiple occasions." Westley speculated.

“I didn’t say we had sex on multiple occasions—”

“Honey,” he began, “you said you’ve had sex with him every time you see each other, and you two meet a lot. It doesn’t take a detective to figure it out.”

"Anyways," he digressed, "the sooner you tell him, the better. There's no use debating over it for years, then finding out he's found someone else when he would've picked you anyways."

"Gosh, when you say it like that, it sounds like a romantic movie." You cringed, finishing your peach Bellini.

He shrugged. “Well, it kinda is.”

You chuckled. “Well, thanks for the advice.”

“Thank you for filling me in,” he smiled.

.

.

The week went by fast. Your design team was still working on alterations, so you were left brainstorming hair and makeup and contacting specialists in those fields.

You were sitting at home, knee-deep in Pinterest boards when your phone buzzed.

You stopped strolling through your laptop and peered down.

Hoseok [19:30]: We can come to your show!

Y/N [19:30]: Fantastic! I'll let my team know, and we’ll send out the invites.

You texted Westley, informing him that BTS could attend the show.

Westley [19:33]: Great! I'll let the rest of the team know, and we'll send the emails out tomorrow

Y/N [19:34]: Thanks!

Westley [19:35]: Np

You set down your phone and continued to add ideas to your private Pinterest board.

Your phone buzzed again.

Hoseok [19:55]: What are you doing right now?

You were puzzled.

Y/N [19:56]: Nothing much, just brainstorming ideas for the show. You?

Hoseok [19:57]: Just chilling in my room.

Hoseok [20:05]: I miss you

You chuckled at the text, thinking that Hoseok was drunk.

Y/N [20:05]: I miss you too, Hobi.

Hoseok [20:08]: …how much?

Again, you were puzzled by his text.

Y/N [20:10]: Wdym? I miss having you here? Is that what you mean?

Hoseok [20:11]: I mean, do you miss me intimately?

Y/N [20:14]: Like sex-wise?

Hoseok [20:14]: Fuck, I need you, Y/N.

You stared at his words.

Hoseok [20:18]: I miss your body and how perfectly you fit around me.

Your cheeks flushed.

Hoseok [20:21]: Can you video chat? Unless you’re not in the mood.

You panicked.

You were in the mood but weren't presentable. Your hair was messy, and you weren't wearing any makeup, and you were dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants.

Y/N [20:23]: Yeah, I’m in the mood. Just give me 5 mins.

You quickly got out of your seat and ran to your bedroom. You sifted through your closet and found the sexist clothing item you had: a red lingerie set. You quickly undressed and put on the set.

You looked into your full-length mirror and tried not to cringe. Your hair was a mess, and you weren’t wearing any makeup. It definitely looked like Hoseok's text came out of nowhere—and it did, but you somehow expected yourself to be decently presentable.

However, the lingerie set was doing you favours. The set was composed of a crotchless thong and a bralette that exposed your nipples.

Y/N [20:28]: I’m ready.

Your phone rang, and you answered, quickly propping it on your drawers across from your bed.

You were faced with a shirtless Hoseok, his cock already in his hand.

“Fuck, you look amazing.” He complimented breathlessly.

“Wow, you’re ahead of the game—and really? I’m a mess.” You chuckled.

He hissed, flinching in his grip. “Fuck, just take the compliment, Y/N.”

You cleared your throat. “Thank you.”

You sat a pit forward, angling your breasts towards the camera.

“What are you imagining, baby?” You purred.

“Y-You,” he stuttered, moving his hand up and down his cock.

“Mhm,” you moaned, “thinking up my pussy clenching around your cock, making it all wet.”

He nodded.

"You can do something if you want," he suggested. "You said you were in the mood."

Your eyes opened wide. “Wait a minute.”

You brought the phone with you on your journey, going back to your closet and fetching your dildo, lube, and vibrator. You hurried to the bathroom and propped your phone up against the closed door.

You suctioned the bottom of the dildo onto the titled floor. You placed the vibrator on the bathroom counter.

“You want to watch me bounce on this dildo and think of you?” You smirked, rubbing lube onto your hands, onto the toy, and onto your vagina.  

“Fuck, yes,” he replied, stilling his hand around his cock for a moment.

“Did I say you could stop?” You spat.

“I’m waiting for you,” he smiled, making your heart melt.

You paused over the dildo, smiling back at him. “Awww, that’s actually kinda sweet. Thank you.”

You quickly washed your hands and grabbed the vibrator.  

You crouched down and slowly onto the dildo.

“Fuck,” you moaned, tilting your head back at the feeling of being filled up. It didn’t hit the spots Hoseok did, but it was good enough.

You lifted yourself up and sunk back down again, rhythmically repeating the motion.

“Fuck, so good,” you sighed, overlooking the pain in your knees.

“That's right, baby, imagine me filling that pussy up," Hoseok groaned, following your rhythm while pumping his cock.

“Fuck yes,” you replied, “and I’m clenching around you so tight.”

You two exchanged moans at the sound of your pussy squelching around the dildo.

“Use the vibrator, baby,” Hoseok purred.

You hummed, grabbing the rose gold vibrator and turning it on. You place the buzzing toy on your clit, feeling pleasure rippling through your core.

“Fuck,” you hissed, speeding up your pace a bit.

“I-I’m getting close.”

“Yeah, baby?” Hoseok smirked. “You get off at me rubbing my cock? Imagining me buried inside your pussy, making you feel so good?"

You nodded. “But it’s not as you, baby.”

“I know—” He choked, appearing to be on the brink of his climax. “I fucking miss the way your pussy fit so well around me, no matter how many times I fucked you open.”

“Mhm,” you bit your lips, watching him with hooded eyes. “Don’t stop.”

“Who knew you were filthy enough to cum during cybersex?" He observed. "I'm not even there to touch you, but just thinking of me inside has you in ruins.”

“What would you do if I was with you right now?” You asked.

“I would fuck you until you couldn’t walk the next day,” he replied, “I’d fuck you until that pretty pussy is swollen.”

"F-fuck, I'm going to cum," you stuttered, feeling the familiar build-up in your core.

“M-me too,” he stammered.

You watched his head tilt back in pleasure and his cum squirt up from his cock.

“Fuck!” You cursed, feeling your pleasure shoot out of your core and onto the floor

“So hot,” Hoseok sighed.

You chuckled, coming down from high. You pulled yourself up and off the dildo, sitting on the cool tile floor.

“Fuck, did you squirt?” He asked, looking closer.

You nodded, gesturing to the mess on the ground.

“Spread your legs for me, baby,” he commanded and obliged, showing him your battered cunt.

You spread your lips, and he hummed at sight.

“So beautiful.” He awed.

“You happy? I need to wipe this all up, now,” you scoffed.

He chuckled. “It’s not my fault that you cummed.” He angled his phone to the floor, showing splashes of his cum on the floor, "and besides, you also made me make a mess.”

You both chatted while cleaning up your messes, talking about your days as if nothing happened. After finishing your clean-up, you two continued your conversation while showering, as if both of you were doing it together.

Ready to relax for the night, both of you signed off with exchanged ‘thanks’ and ‘good night.’

You turned off your phone with a soft click and stepped out of the steamy bathroom. Your pyjamas were soft on your skin, and you felt ready to go to bed.

Hopping onto your bed, you grabbed your laptop and turned on some Netflix to fall asleep to.

From an outsider’s perspective, masturbating with your best friend and then casually talking with them while showering and getting ready for bed was odd. Repeating the scenario in your mind did make it sound like you two were in a long-distance romantic relationship rather than a platonic one.

But you and Hoseok were different. That was your excuse.

A friend could do this and not catch feelings. You two were the perfect example of that.

Emphasis on were because you were currently spiralling in your growing romantic feelings for Hoseok.

But what would you do in this situation?

You and your childhood friend engage in sex one time and promise each other to not grow feelings. In this manner, you two could have sex without attachment. Fast forward into the future, and you both are still making this arrangement with no negative consequences and feel like you two have gotten to know each other better and have become better friends—until you catch feelings. And you don’t want to risk losing this relationship you two have.

Because he is a worldwide musician who can’t be tied down because it could risk his career, and he might lose fans—and you couldn't be bothered with any romantic commitment with your fast-paced and unpredictable work schedule.

So, you stay in this unnameable mess.

.

.

“Time flies by when you’re having fun,” Allie commented from the plush couch.

You looked in the mirror, twisting your back towards it to see the back of the dress. “I guess so.”

“You have to admit, planning a fashion show is pretty fun,” she said. “If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t be doing it over and over again.”

“True,” you replied, turning to the stylist.

“May I see the other dress?” You asked, and the stylist nodded, retreating to somewhere in the shop you couldn’t see.

It was the last month until the show. Everything was in order: the show’s venue and its decorations, the clothes, makeup and hair for the models, and the guests’ accommodation. Now, it was your turn to find suitable attire for the occasion.

You tried on the next dress. It was a slim-fitting number, with a leg slit in the front. It was scandalous and stunning, but not right for the show.

“I don’t like any of these dresses,” you sighed, annoyed.

Allie appears to brainstorm some ideas.

“Maybe try a suit?” She proposed.

You kept your eyes on the mirror, twirling your figure and watching the fabric move at your feet.

“Think about it,” she began, “think of all the powerful women who’ve worn suits and killed it. Zendaya, Kristen Stewart, Blake Lively, Awkwafina. The list goes on. It’s a statement piece, and you’re the big brain behind this operation.”

“I think it’s ‘mastermind behind this operation,’ but I get what you mean.” You corrected.

“You literally bypassed my whole point—”

“I know, I know,” you interrupted. “It’s just—suits for women are so overpriced. And it’s just like the dresses, except a different fit. Same colour palettes, same materials, so on.”

Allie scoffed. "You're a fucking fashion designer, did you forget? Make your own thing. There are leftover fabrics at your studio; you have time to make something." Her face lit up, “And, technically, it’s for free.”

You gave it a thought, but the stylist came back before you could finish it.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Vega, but I’m not finding anything, and I don’t want you walking back and forth and bringing me more dresses.” You gave an apologetic smile. “Thank you very much for your help.”

"No worries, Y/N! Just hang up the dress when you take it off, and I’ll deal with the rest,” she replied.

“Will do,” you said, and she stepped out of the room.

Allie helped you unzip the gown, and you shimmed out of it. You did as you were told and hung up the dress, and you and Allie left the shop.

The walk back to the studio was quick, you two making determined strides through the crowded city.

You and Allie entered the empty studio, turning on the nights.

The studio was organized chaos with dressed mannequins, big boxes of fabrics in the back of the room, and papered patterns on the tables.

“Wow,” Allie awed.

"Yeah," you replied, leading you both to your master station is near the back, "it's crazy what a couple months before a show looks like.”

You looked through the drawers beside your desks and grabbed the tools you'll need to plan out the suit.

“So, just a suit jacket and pants…” You said, grabbing some paper to sketch up your pattern.

You looked up at Allie, “Do you mind helping me out with measurements?”

She nodded, “For sure. What do you need?”

You guided Allie on how to measure your proportions for the suit. She measured your inseams for your pants, the sleeves, the cuts, and so on. In between, you'd write down the dimensions for the patterns.

You two sifted through the fabrics to create a monochrome patchwork outfit. The suit would be shades of cherry red, with different materials making it up. There were no patterns in the patchwork, only various tones of red in several types of wool.

“Fucking hell,” Allie cursed while sifting through the materials, “who would’ve thought there were so many shades of red.”

She held up a piece of recycled fabrics, checking with you that it was the correct tone. You took it and held the portion against the others.

“Nope, too dark,” you shook your head.

"What? It looks exactly the same," she disagreed, walking over to your table. When comparing the fabrics, she made an 'aaah’ sound, letting you know that you were right.

Before sectioning off your pattern, you tried your best to evenly sew all the material together into a quilt-like form.

“Jesus,” you muttered, shaking out your sore hands.

“We don’t have to get this all done today, you know. You do have two months left.” Allie advised.

"I know. I just want to put this all together first," you replied, continuing to push the material through the sewing machine.

“Alright,” she surrendered, bringing one of the seats over to your table.

You sewed in silence for a bit.

“So,” Allie began, “how are you and Hoseok doing?”

You paused. “What do you mean?”

“You know…you two and your arrangement.”

You scoffed, “Our arrangement? You mean us having sex?”

“Yeah, but the other stuff.”

You pulled your hands from the sewing machine, crossing your arms over your chest. "Just spit it out, Al."

“Well, you’ve had mixed feelings with Hoseok, right? Like you’re starting to like him?” She speculated.

Your mouth gaped open. “Have you been talking to West?”

She didn’t respond, not making eye contact.

“You can’t be fucking serious. You two are ganging up on me!” You yelled.

“Y/N, we’re just worried.”

“About what? I have feelings—and?” You fumed.

She sighed. “You shouldn’t be having sex with someone if you’re growing romantic feelings, especially if you two agreed to be platonic.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you stood.

“Y/N!” She exclaimed. "Don't you dare talk to me that way? I am your friend, not your enemy." Allie stood up and sighed. “I get it. You don’t like people in your business. That’s fair. I just feel like you're sacrificing yourself for Hoseok when you could talk about it with him."

“Allie, you don’t know what you’re fucking talking about.” You spat.

“I get it,” she sympathized. “I don’t. I’m not you or Hoseok.”

“So, tell me,” she said. “Educate me on the situation. I am not here to judge. I’m just worried about you, that’s all.”

You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

“It’s okay,” she forgave, “just don’t push me away so fast, okay?”

“Okay.” You agreed.

She sat down, “So?”

You sat down and rehashed your feelings about you and Hoseok to her: the growing romantic feelings for him, not knowing what to do, and wanting something more.

“Well, do you think it’d work out between you two if you dated?” She asked.

You shifted in your seat. "I honestly don't know. It's tough with Hoseok's work because he has a loyal fanbase. I'm afraid he's going to get even more hate if we were to date.”

“But would you two be happy?” She asked.

You gave it a thought. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you go into a relationship regardless of other people. Whether you’re a celebrity or an ordinary person, you date someone for you and that person; no one else. There are going to be people who support and hate your relationship no matter what. What matters is what the two people think in the relationship."

She sighed. “You cannot control what others will think about you. No matter what you do or who you do, you're going to upset someone. So, just do what feels comfortable and safe with you."

You hummed, understanding.

“So, would you be happy if you and Hoseok dated?”

“Yes.” You stated without a thought. “I really like him—love him even.”

"Then that's all that matters," Allie replied.

.

.

The week before, the show crept on you faster than you expected. You, your team of designers and event organizers, models, hairstylists and makeup artists flew into Vancouver a week early to prepare on location.

However, the majority of the week would be spent preparing for the show. The first day was spent unloading all of the outfits and equipment for the show into the venue. Everyone was required to show up to organize their stations and to familiarize themselves with the venue.

“Please set up your stations while Westley and I look into the main runway and after part section. We’ll be back in around two hours to check up on everyone. If you have any questions while we're gone, please contact me on my phone." You held up your cellphone and everyone nodded. "Great. Good luck, everyone!"

The venue and interior designers' owners toured you and Westley around the place, showing you the drawn floorplans, running down the prices, and checking that the decorations correlated with your plans.

“These weren’t the chairs we sent over,” Westley pointed to the black folded chairs lining the runways.

“Yes, but these were within the price range and—” One of the interior designers, Queeny, said.

“But did we get an email regarding this change?” You interjected.

Queeny exchanged looks with the other three decorators, and they shook their heads.

Wesley let out an angry sigh. "Well, I guess we’ll have to live with these then.” He sat down on one of the chairs. “At least they’re comfortable. They look cheap, but they’re sturdy.”

“Are there any more changes you made without informing as?” You asked.

They all shook their heads.

"Great." You turned to one of the two-venue owners, named Ruby. "Shall we continue to the after-party part?”

“Yes,” she replied, gesturing to the doorway that led to the front reception area.

From the reception area, where guests would check-in and get a wristband, a double-door way on the right led to a ballroom for the after-party.

The overall theme of the place was classic European designs with off-white luxurious walls and chandeliers. The ceilings were intricately carved, and the floors were a smooth white oak. Just walking around made you feel like you were dirtying the place.

“This place is stunning,” Westley whispered.

“I know,” you replied, “you chose the place.”

“I know,” he smiled, pretending to flip his hair.

You both chuckled, continuing to follow the owners around the venue.

Everything worked out, besides the chairs, so you and Westley checked on the designers, models, hairstylists and makeup artists.

At the end of the workday, everyone was in order and ready for the next three days of dress rehearsals and solving and problems.

You arrived back at your hotel with sore feet and exhaustion.

Your phone rang as you flopped onto your bed.

You answered. “Hobi!”

“Y/N! How was your flight to Vancouver?” He asked.

“It was good. We didn't have a rest day, though. We had to settle into the place and check it over. My feet are so sore.” You groaned.

“Really? I thought you’d at least have a rest day when you guys arrived,” he assumed.

You shook your head. “No. Sadly, this whole week will be walking around and making sure everything is going smoothly.”

He sighed. “Shit. That sucks.” You heard him shift on the other side of the phone. “Do you want to relax?”

You laughed. “Jung Hoseok, did you seriously booty call me from across the world?”

Hoseok gasped, "I did not! I was talking about watching Netflix or something." He chuckled, "You're so dirty-minded."

You both laughed.

“Okay, so what do you want to watch?” He asked on the other end of the call.

You brought out your laptop and scrolled through the movie selection.

“Oooo! Let’s watch Hush. I’ve heard so many good things about it.” You recalled.

You could hear his hesitation.

Hoseok did not like being scared. Whenever you watched anything scary, you were afraid that your neighbours would complain at how loud his screaming was. As you remembered saying "hello" to him once and him screaming in fear and surprise, he was also easily frightened.

“We don’t have to,” you said.

“No, no,” Hoseok reassured, “we’ll watch it. Just send me the Netflix Party link, and I'll ready the Zoom link."

You giggled. “You don’t have to be brave for me, Hobi. I know you don’t like scary movies.”

“You want to watch it, so let’s do it,” he said, “and the ratings are good.”

“Okay,” you digressed. “I’m texting you the link right now.”

“Same,” he replied.

You two hung up and joined the links.

“Hello!” Hoseok beamed, dancing.

You rolled your eyes and chuckled at his burst of energy. “Hello, Hobi.”

You carried your laptop to the bathroom and began getting ready for bed.

“How was your day?” You asked.

Hoseok described him and his bandmates' film day for "Run! BTS," and you groaned at all the work they had to do.

He laughed. “But we got to play games, which was fun. We laughed so much that my abs hurt.” You watched him lift up his shirt and show his toned abdomen.

Your core felt a familiar flutter.

“W-wow, that must be a lot of laughing,” you cleared your throat and took out your toothbrush and toothpaste.

For the moment, the time difference worked for you two because it was almost ten at night for you and nearly three in the afternoon for him.

“Should I turn off my camera?” You asked before undressing to get into the shower.

He shook his head. “I’m okay with you leaving it on. I’ve seen you naked before, so it’s not really different. But if you’re uncomfortable, you can just turn it off.”

You shrugged and began taking off your clothes in full view of the camera and screen.

You noticed Hoseok’s expression.

“Enjoying the show?” You chuckled, finally taking off your undergarments and fully exposing yourself.

Hoseok smirked, “Don’t act like you weren’t just turned on by my abs. I saw how you looked at me.”

You nodded and surrendered. “Fair point.”

You hoped in the shower, and you two continued talking.

“Jesus, we haven’t started the movie yet,” Hoseok commented while you were washing your hair.

“Shit, right,” you laughed, massaging the shampoo into your scalp.

After you hoped out of the shower and dried your body and hair, you both started to watch the movie.

“This is a pretty cool premise. Like, we’ve never seen a deaf person in a horror movie before,” you regarded.

"True, that's a good point—AHHHHHH!" Hoseok screamed at the sudden slam in the movie.

You burst into laughter.

“Holy shit!” He exclaimed, trying to calm himself with controlled breaths.

The movie continued as you finished off your skincare and put on your pyjamas.

The oversized t-shirt was long enough to cover your thighs.

“You’re going to watch this before bed?” Hoseok gasped.

You chuckled. “Yeah. It’s not that scary.” You say as you jump at the sound of breaking glass in the film.

Hoseok laughed at the coincidental timing.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but you woke up to the sound of your alarm.

“Shit,” you grumbled and turned it off.

You heard Hoseok stir awake on the Zoom call.

Both of you had fallen asleep, but Hoseok finished the movie before you could; because you saw the end credits paused in the Netflix Party.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

“It’s okay,” Hoseok mumbled, squinting at the screen.

“I’ll let you sleep,” you smiled, hovering your cursor over the "send" button.

He softly smiled, “thank you.” He snuggled into his pillow, “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Hobi,” you replied, ending the call for both of you.

It didn’t hit you until you were halfway through your dress rehearsal, but Hoseok had stayed with you while you slept. He didn't wake you but quietly continued the movie and fell asleep.

Hoseok was usually sweet, so you didn't pay too much attention to it.

But it did make you feel special.

.

.

It was the day of the fashion show, and you were fucking nervous.

You had done this before, a show, but this one was different. You had put in so much effort and were proud of how it turned out but were afraid of what other people would think.

“It’ll be fine, don’t worry,” Allie assured through video call,” it’ll be excellent, and everyone won’t stop talking about it.”

“Probably,” you replied, putting on your makeup.

“It will be excellent, Y/N. I am so sure I will bet money.” She stated.

You chuckled, "then I'll take your word for it because I am not bidding money.”

You both laughed.

“Okay, I know I already showed you my outfit, but are you sure it looks good?” She asked, putting on the A-line floor-length dress she’d shown you before. It was a beautiful viridian green with lace shoulder straps that draped over the sides of her biceps.

“You look beautiful,” you complimented, setting your makeup with setting spray and heading to your closet.

You put on the suit you made and looked in the mirror. You looked a bad bitch.

“You look great! Oooo, put on the red bottoms,” Allie squealed.

You put on the signature Louis Vuitton black high heels with the ruby bottoms.

Your phone buzzed.

“I got to go; Westley is here with our ride to the venue. I’ll see you there!”

“See you!” She waved, ending the call.

You did a quick check in the mirror, fixing your hair, grabbed your bags, and headed out the door.

Your driver waited outside the vehicle as you approached, and opened its door, showing you a well-dressed and excited Westley.

"Oh my god, you look great!" He gasped. “When did you make the suit?”

“I finished it a week before we flew out,” you chuckled, “and you look great too! I love the pine on you.”

You took a step back and looked at Westley’s crisp pine-coloured suit with matching brown dress shoes.

“Thank you,” he grinned. “Okay, get in before we become late.”

You hopped into the car, and your driver got in and started the vehicle.

The drive was spent recalling your opening and closing speeches with Westley and the show's agenda.

“So, five pm is when the show ends, and then the guests for the after-party go into the ballroom area. Food is served at six pm, and everything is wrapped up at ten pm.” Westley relayed.

You nodded, “Yup.”

Both of you arrived a couple hours before the start time, which was at 1 pm, to set everything up and warm up the models and crew.

Westley checked the organizers and the models while you went to the runway area to check the lights and sound.

"Let's rerun the lights, please!" You announced as you walked into the runway room. "Can I get a headset, please?" You ask the crew on the ground, who nodded.

“Yup!” You heard the lighting crew respond.

You were given the headset, and you heard the head light technician’s voice.

“Can you hear me?” They checked.

“Yes,” you confirmed.

They ran by the six light settings for the show, and it was all correct.

“It’s perfect, thank you. Can you please check that the sound is alright?” You asked through the headset.

“Yup. You’ll have to hand the headset to another person, though, and we’ll give you a mic.” They added.

You heard their muffled voice as if they covered their mic's headset with their hand. Next, you had someone hand you a mic and take your headset.

“You’ll need to stand on the stage,” The person said.

“Okay,” you replied, going to the runway and standing on the end portion.

All the room’s lights turned on, and you could see the lighting crew’s area in the back and the chair organized around the runway.

“You can speak into the mic!” You heard someone shout.

You started speaking nonsense in the mic, like the type of weather outside, as they adjusted the volume.

“Thank you!” Someone shouted.

“Thanks,” you said into the mic before handing it to one of the crew.

“Is there anything to report? Any problems that arose before I got here?” You asked the crew.

They all shook their heads.

“How is everyone feeling?” You asked.

They all shared nervous laughter, and a few people said “good.”

“Alright, if there’s anything you all need, just come to the modelling area and ask me. It’s in the backroom.”

They all nodded, and you left them to their business.

You arrived in the backroom and saw designers fitting their outfits on the models and makeup artists and hairstylists prepping their stations.

“How is everybody doing?!” You enthusiastically asked.

They cheered with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"I get it. Everyone is on their toes. You all have an hour left to set things up before people start filing in. Remember, the show starts at 1 pm. The door opens thirty minutes before them.”

They call responded with various forms of understanding, and you went around to check on them individually.

Rachel came and taped your shoulder, with a headset on, “So, the guards are in their posts, and the front is ready to check people in.”

“Is there a line already?” You asked.

Rachel pressed down the headset, asking the crew on the other end.

“Yes, there’s a line of people outside,” she reported, “about twenty people, so far.”

"Shit, yeah, let them in. It's probably cold." You ordered.

“I’ll tell them,” she replied.

“Okay, everyone! We’re starting to let people in. Again, you all have about an hour left, so try to wrap things up and relax. Thank you!” You announced.

Again, sounds of understanding, and you, Westley, and Rachel left the backroom.

“Rachel, Westley and I are going to check that the ballroom area and catering are all handled. Please check in with the front desk to see how they're doing, and then meet us in the ballroom." You told.

“Got it, Y/N,” Rachel answered, walking past the two of you and towards the front area.

Westley appeared impressed. “She's terrific. She's even got the headset and everything."

"I know, right? She's cool." You remarked.

Like clockwork, you and Westley ran over the details and schedule for the catering and the after-party. Everyone had places to sit, with elegantly decorated name cards.

Everything was ready.

"Fantastic, thank you," you thanked the caterers and the staff in the ballroom. "Feel free to come into the runway area during the show if you all would like to watch."

With that, it was about time the show would start. You and Westley hurried backstage, where you both were handed microphones.

The lights dimmed, and classical music played—fitting the theme of elegance and high class.

You and Westley regarded each other, did an excellent handshake, and strutted out on the runway. Both of you were met with applause from the crowd and blinding spotlights.

You two walked to the end of the runway and let out an exhausted sigh.

The music quieted, faintly heard in the background.

“And that’s why I’m not a model,” Westley joked, causing the crowd to giggle.

“Same here,” you chuckled.

“Anyways, welcome to the show, everyone!” You cheered, and the crowd clapped. “As you know, I am Y/N, and this is Westley. Today, we’ll be showing recycled elegant clothes on people. Not just models, but people. All the clothes you'll be seeing here today are made from recycled fabrics and hand-crafted by our design team and me."

Applause.

"We wanted to represent people, so we got people to present our clothes. Redundant, I know, but the fashion industry rarely shows models that look like people. Don’t get me wrong, they’re all fantastic. However, this show will be different. Enjoy!” Westley waved.

A final round of applause while you and Westley walked off the runway.

The show went smoothly and wonderfully. The changes were fluid, and there were no clothing mishaps. The classical music turned into upbeat music that everyone seemed to groove to. Models danced on the runway while walking, and there were joyful cheers in the crowd.

In the end, you and Westley gave your brief thank you speeches, and months of planning and work were officially completed.

When everyone was backstage, you all collectively cheered.

“Phenomenal job, everyone!” You praised. “I am speechless at how well we all did. Thank you all for being such wonderful people to work with.”

Smiles and cheers were shared as everyone got ready for the after-party.

“Okay, remember that food is being served at six o’clock, and you all will be able to find your names at a table.” You reminded.

You and Westley did a quick check-up on people before heading to the ballroom area to socialize.

“Great job, you two!” Some complimented.

You and Westley thanked the praise and had a small talk with some colleges.

“Hey, Y/N!” You heard a familiar voice say.

You turned and say Hoseok with the rest of the boys, waving.

“Hey!” You smiled, nudging Westley to join you.

"Well, enjoy the after-party," Westley grinned at the other guests before joining you.

As always, the seven boys were well-dressed in designer suits. Hoseok wore lightly tinted shades paired with a dark suit and floral dress shirt. His hair was wavy.

“That was awesome, Y/N,” Namjoon said.

“Thank you!” You replied.

“Yeah, Y/N, I loved the recycled-fabrics idea. Are anything on sale?” Taehyung asked.

You nodded. "Everything will be on sale next month. I'll send you the dates, so you mark them in your calendar. The clothes go fast," you chuckled.

“Damn,” Taehyung remarked, eyebrows raised.

“Hey, Jimin,” Westley greeted.

“Hey West,” Jimin smiled, “loved your speech today. That suit looks great on you.”

“I know,” Westley smirked, “you look good too.”

"How are you feeling?" Hoseok asked, letting Westley and Jimin casually flirt.

You sighed. “Glad that it’s over, to be honest. It was fun, of course, but it's a lot of work to organize."

“Oh my god, is that Charlie Puth?” Jungkook gasped, hiding slightly behind Namjoon.

Everyone laughed.

"You should go and say 'hi,' Kook. You've already met and sung with him before. You two are practically friends." Yoongi expressed.

“True,” you agreed, “and Charlie’s a nice guy.”

“Okay,” Jungkook straightened his posture, “I’ll do it.”

You all watched Jungkook walk over and begin chatting with Charlie Puth.

“God, he’s grown up so much,” Seokjin sighed.

The rest of you caught up and chatted about the show.

Before you knew it, Westley was poking your side to let you know it was five minutes until six.

“Shit,” you cursed. “Sorry to cut this convo short, but Westley and I have to announce dinner. We’ll talk soon!”

You all said your goodbyes, and you and Westley went up to the front to state it was time for food.

You two were seated with Rachel, Allie, and a couple others. Everyone ordered off a menu, which served various kinds of pasta, salads, and a mix of alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages.

It was an excellent way to end off the show.

There was a dancefloor, too, where people could groove to music after eating.

Of course, the seven boys went to the dancefloor, which caused others to join.

You were finishing off your fettuccine alfredo when Hoseok danced over to your table. You chuckled as he held his hand out and quirked a brow.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, taking his hand.

“You love it,” he smirked, pulling you off your chair and leading you to the dancefloor.

You danced together, along with your friends. He held your hands as you two swayed to the slow songs and body-rolled with you during the upbeat songs. Of course, a few BTS songs played, and everyone tried to follow the known choreography. You went back to your table for a drink of water, and Allie came with you. "Look, and you and Hoseok dancing up a storm," she teased. “Shut up,” you chuckled. “The chemistry is there, Y/N,” she commented. You drank your water. "Not now, Al." “Come on! He’s here for, what, the night and then gone tomorrow morning? When will you see him again?” She asked. You paused, honestly unsure when you'd see Hoseok again. “Now or never, Y/N. How much longer can you debate this?” “I know,” you replied. “I’ll do it later tonight.” Around nine-thirty, the party was dying down, with only a few guests scattered around the venue helping to clean up. You made eye contact with Allie, who was tending to the chairs, who nudged towards Hoseok’s direction. Now or never. You said in your head. “Can I speak to you, Hoseok?” You asked, walking up to him. “For sure!” He replied. You led both of you to a secluded part of the venue, away from listeners. “Did you enjoy the show?” You asked. “Yeah! You did a fantastic job, Y/N. I love how everything turned out, the colours, the recycled fabrics were great—and your suit! I can’t believe you made it,” Hoseok complimented, stepping back to look at your attire. “Thank you,” you blushed. You gave a quick look around to make sure no one was around. “Is everything alright, Y/N? You’re looking around as if they’re spies around.” He gasped. “Are there spies around? What secret don’t they know?” “I don’t want to have sex with you anymore.” You abruptly stated. A stretch of silence. Hoseok’s expression was a mixture of surprise and concern. “What?” “I can’t have sex with you anymore.” “You can’t or don’t want to? Is it something I did?” “Yes? No? In a way?” You pondered. You took a few deep breaths. "I like you, Hoseok—possibly even love you.” You ran your hand through your hair. “I know we agreed not to catch feelings, so I think we should stop having sex.” You watched his expression shift from some form of being happy to disappointment. “You know I cannot date with work,” he explained, "with the fans, touring, and whatnot, I cannot date someone. And you have your company to work on." “I know,” you replied. “But do you like me back?” You asked. “I do—” “You do?” You were on the verge of hugging him, but he stepped back. You looked at him, confused. “We can’t—” “Why?” “I literally just told you, Y/N. With work, dating wouldn’t allow it. I already have people—” He choked on his words. “People who wish I was dead, j-just for being me.” “Hoseok—” You reached out to him, but he gently pushed you away. “No,” he objected, “I’m fine. I just don’t want to add you to the mess.” “You can’t decide that for me.” You retorted. “I understand that you don’t want to add me to it, but I’m okay with it. I don't care what other people would say about us. They're not in the relationship, we are—" “But what if I care?” He said, almost too quiet for you to hear. “I’m the happy guy of BTS, who’s dedicated to his work.” “But are you truly happy?” You peered into him. “Yeah,” he replied, avoiding eye contact, “but it gets really hard sometimes.” “So, let me help, Hoseok,” you pleaded. "I don't need to be helped! I'm not another project for you to work on.” He thundered. “You know that’s not what I meant.” You seethed. “Let’s just drop it, okay? We’re not dating, that’s it.” He dictated. “Fine.” You replied. “Have a safe trip back home.” You left without another word, trying your best not to cry. Out of all the ways you thought he'd respond, this took you off guard. Hoseok wasn't one to push you away, but here he was doing so. “Fuck this,” you whimpered, walking up to Allie. “I’m going back to the hotel, sorry,” you said, turning away as soon as possible. “Y/N!”

You washed your face and hoped into the shower—the warm water soothing your sore muscles and emotions. You couldn’t tell if it was the water or your tears streaming down your face.

What else did you expect? Hoseok had a point: with his work, he couldn’t date someone. And it was ridiculous that Hoseok would want to date you.

However, instead of sulking over Hoseok, you decided to have a bath and put on a facemask.

The room’s phone rang while you were starting the bath.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Y/N Y/L/N?

“Speaking,” you confirmed.

“Great! There’s a man here, named,” a muffled noise, “Hoseok Jung.”

“Tell him I’m busy, please,” you replied.

Another muffled noise. “Hoseok says he's sorry and that he has ice cream—cookie dough. But if he’s dangerous, I can call the police.”

“No, no. God no,” you said.

You bit your lip. "You can send Hoseok up."

“Okay. However, if there’s anything wrong, please try to press the red button on the receiver. I will check back with you in an hour. If there’s no response, I’ll get someone to check on you.” They informed.

“Thank you,” you replied, slightly shocked by their concern.

You hung up.

A few minutes later, you heard a knock on the door. You tightened your robe.

You checked the peephole before cracking the door open.

“Hi,” you greeted.

“Hey," he smiled. "I'm sorry for leaving you like that at the party. It was sudden and insensitive. I should have been more considerate of your feelings rather than shutting you off.”

“I was just—scared. I don’t know what it’s going to be like for us. And I don't want you to fix me—but I like you, a lot—so I brought cookie dough ice cream and two spoons—"

“Do you want to come in?” You interrupted his nervous rambling.

“Yes, thank you,” he chuckled.

Hoseok still wore the suit from the fashion show, but his jacket was folded over his arm, and his dress shirt was unbuttoned lower.

“Oh, you’re running the bath,” he noticed. "We can deal with this later if it's a bad time."

“No, it’s alright. I’ll just turn off the water.” You replied, going to the bathroom to do so.

When you came back, Hoseok was sitting on the edge of your bed.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” You asked, sitting beside him.

He opened the ice cream tub, setting the lid on the desk and handing you one of the spoons.

“I was thinking you could talk more, actually; about how you feel," he replied, giving you the tub and angling himself to face you. "I just want to listen to you this time."

You gave a brief smile before spooning a small piece of ice cream into your mouth.

“Well, I just feel like we’re in this grey area of being really close but having sex. And we both like each other, and we said at the venue, and I just feel like we should just date then.” You set the ice cream and spoon down on the desk. “I get that work complicates things for you. But once we’ve confessed our feelings, I just don’t know what to call this—this friendship?”

Hoseok nodded.

"So, if you don't want to date, that's completely fine. I understand. However, we can't keep having sex like we used to; because I have feelings for you now, and you said you do too, so it's not a good mix."

“That’s fair,” he acknowledged.

“But what do you think? Like, how do you feel about us?” You asked.

He paused and set his spoon on the desk with yours. “I want to date you, Y/N. I just don’t want to get you hurt.” He softly grasped your hands. “The industry can be toxic, and I don’t want to subject you to that.”

“I understand,” you replied, “but I want to date you too, regardless of all the other bullshit. As cheesy as it sounds, all I want is you, Hoseok.”

Hoseok smiled but then pretended to gag.

“Hobi! I was romantic."

“Sorry, but that was so cheesy.” He cringed.

“So, do you want to just start dating, then?” You proposed. “We have the ice cream here; we can pretend to get to know each other more.”

He chuckled. “Sure. Let’s do that.”

Hoseok stood up and held his hand out to you. “Y/N Y/L, will you go on a date with me?”

You laughed but composed yourself. “I would love to, Jung Hoseok.” You took his hand, and he immediately sat back down.

“So, Y/N,” Hoseok began, handing you the partially melted ice cream and your spoon, “what do you like to do on the weekends?”

.

.

1 year later.

“I’m thinking of moving to Korea,” you said. Hoseok turned to you, surprised. “Really? But you’re not based here.” “I know,” you acknowledged, “but I can fly in and skype, or whatever. I can have a home base here, too.” You were visiting Hoseok for a couple weeks before you had to go back home for a clothing launch. Both of you were cuddling at his place when you brought up your idea of moving to Korea. “Of course, it wouldn’t be immediate. I would need to sort things out with Westley and Rachel and organize a place to stay here and a work area. The company is sturdy enough to handle the change.” You reasoned. “You could move in with me,” he suggested, turning his body to face you. “Are you sure?” “Yeah, why not. We’ve been dating for a while now, and it makes sense.” He shrugged. “Unless you don’t want to.” You kissed him. “No, I want to.” Both of you discussed what your move would be like and imagined living together. If you were to look back at how your relationship with Hoseok progressed, you would be shocked. In a matter of a few months, you and Hoseok went from friends to romantic partners. Although you had not come out publicly about your relationship, many people had a sense it existed; but that didn’t matter. You and Hoseok were in a secure and healthy relationship. It was long distanced, but you two made it work by visiting each other when you could and calling almost every day. The only thing that didn’t change was the sex—although it had gotten better. Nevertheless, so much has happened over the past year. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[writingtoforgetreality]

Springing Forward (Helmut Zemo x Reader)

Request: hey there cathy! i’m a new follower and i was wondering if i might request a zemo x reader where it’s maybe pre ultron and reader’s family own a flower shop in sokovia and somehow through that they meet? idk i know it’s super random but i’ve got spring fever 😂 (by @msmarvelsmain), [Marvel-Masterlist]

Summary: Your family owned a little flower shop. You assisted every now & then. One day, your parents had departed for a while, a man entered the store & changed your life forever.

Words: 3,255

Warnings: fluff, soft!Zemo, it is so sweet, I promise, pretty sure I didn't use any pronouns :), no TFATWS spoilers (you’re welcome), (Y/F/F) = your favorite flowers, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

Spring was your favorite season of the year. Flowers started blossoming. Nature turned colorful again. Lush hues decorated the outsides. Your family owned a petite shop in the central of downtown in Sokovia. The store was your whole pride & joy. The façade was stacked with uneven, light grey cobblestones. The sign on top of the glass door was illuminated with a warm & congenial light. While you did not have that many guests, your regular customers supported you continuously. Helping out your parents had never bothered you. It was a family business. Your assistance was appreciated & the local citizens enjoyed whenever you served them.

Plants & flowers were your hobby. Somehow, they grew when you tended to them. You managed to flourish almost dead ones. That was one of your skills. Your handling with the people who visited your shop left a good impression. The earnings were not a fortune but you made do. The smiles of your pleased customers were enough to balance that out. Not even once had you been bad-tempered. If something bothered you, then you suppressed that negativity for the sake of your reputation. After all, it never had anything to do with the shop itself.

The mornings were your favorites. When the rest of the town was still fast asleep & the birds slowly awakened with rhythmical chirps. The slight breeze that touched your skin tenderly. The goosebumps erupting where your clothes did not cover you. Yet, you abandoned the thought of pulling over a jacket. As the hours ticked by, the sun would amplify, leaving you content with your tenuous t-shirt. Your parents had left town for relaxation. The shop would be solely yours for the upcoming days. Your little apartment was not far away from your workplace. The short walks back & forth were forever welcomed. During your lunch break, if your job & the weather allowed you that, you wandered through the narrow backstreets. Every corner was familiar but the small details that frequently transformed always fascinated you anew.

Years ago, you loathed leaving the country you were born in to start a new life here in Sokovia. Your parents were incomprehensibly overstrained with your whim that seemed to worsen daily. Friends were abandoned in the process of moving. The beginning in a foreign area was strenuous. Not only did it take a toll on you but on your parents as well. The loan enabled your family’s dream of owning their own shop. Independence was an indescribable feeling. Ever since, your fondness of this place had been increasing steadily. And while you would not exactly say that you had friends here, you definitely made a few acquaintances. Friendships would follow sooner or later. Besides, your work consumed almost all of your time. You lived to work & you worked to live. It was as simple as that. Your lifestyle functioned like that. It was exhausting, sometimes excessive, but you handled it just fine. Still, every now & then, you found yourself craving something. What that particular something was had yet to be discovered.

The delightful ringing of the bell whenever someone entered your shop reached your ears. It was early in the morning. Usually, the first costumers rolled in closer to lunch time. Not that you were complaining. Your body spun around, your apron getting stuck on an infinitesimal bump standing out of your oak wooden counter. Silent curses left your lips, too quiet for the stranger to hear. The struggles were noticeable & a presence approached you. You had yet to glance at the person but your delicate hands were busy with fiddling the fabric.

“May I?” a soft, accented voice spoke up & startled you slightly. Your eyes flickered up & locked with warm, chocolate brown ones. For a few moments, time stopped. Your heartbeat sped up. Something about this simple interaction let sparks burst. And when his lips turned into a gentle smile, you were gone for. Never before had something similar occurred. Especially not that quickly. It was obvious that you were staring a little too intensively. But his eyes did not leave yours, lingering just for a fraction longer. He had asked you a question. As an owner, you completely failed your task. You neither welcomed him in nor did you engage in a conversation. Coughing to hide the embarrassment, you averted your gaze & began.

“Welcome. Um, I’d really appreciate your help, thank you.” your voice wavered but it did not crack. His hands, covered by leather gloves, stretched out & he initiated the process of freeing you. The thick material that hid his fingers was offbeat. Average people tended to avoid gloves during this season. It was warm enough without them. Then again, this stranger did not strike you as average. This brief meeting was proof enough.

“There you go.” he commented after successfully liberating you. “As good as new.” he radiated a feeling that made you believe he was a well-spoken man. You were unsure how exactly you ended up with that conclusion.

“Thank you.” both of your hands reached to the hem of your apron, glancing down at it, checking for possible damages. But, as he alleged, it was perfectly fine. Another moment of silence went by, then you slowly returned to reality. You occupied your according place behind the counter. Back straightened & regained composure. “Apologies for my unprofessional behavior. I will ensure you a discount for your purchase. Right…what did you need?” your rambling was mortifying. Hiding your emotions was not necessarily one of your skilled characteristics.

“Please, do not bother with special treatments.” one of his hands raised in front of his chest, signaling that he was being serious. It did not change that, deep down, you felt poorly. “I was actually looking for…” a chuckle interrupted his speech. “I am uncultured regarding this area, truthfully. If you offer me your assistance now then the two of us are even.” the following wink made you all giddy. What was it about him?

“Okay, well…” your previous painstakingness was pushed down. “What is the occasion?” it was always surprising to gain new customers. His accent betrayed him a little. And what a sweet betrayal it was.

“A decisive meeting with a higher up. An efficient first impression would be convenient.” he enlightened you, choosing his words carefully. Well-spoken he was but that was manifested from the very beginning.

“Any preferred colors, types?” one of your eyebrows perked up. Moving your body around the counter & in the middle of the modest shop, you reacted unwillingly after brushing past his frame. Your shoulder barely grazing but enough to trigger uneven breaths.

“How does a common purchase for such an event look like?” you peered over your shoulder, a bit of amusement written over your features. While he appeared like a literate man, ten times wiser than you, this was a field you surpassed with ease. A quick glimpse on your forearm, where a barely functioning watch swathed your wrist caressingly, confirmed your previous assumption. There was still a load of time left until the shop’s actual occupation. You could bestow him your aggregate attention. The unnamed stranger absorbed your every word of your explanation. Your eyes sparkled with a newly witnessed enthusiasm. The fact that he did not heckle your talk during the entirety of your tour through the shop brought you desired satisfaction. He was the first person to display genuine interest in your employment.

“God, please excuse me trailing off. I did not intend to bore you.” all of a sudden, your energetic self switched to an insecure one.

“I can assure you that you did not bore me. Not for one second.” his affirming smile calmed your incertitude. Together, the two of you picked up various individual flowers. A compiled bouquet would portray him in the best light. Your hands moved on their own. You could still hold a conversation with the man on the other end of the wooden table. It separated the back of the shop from the front, main area. His fascination for you expanded by every further move you performed. Lastly, you wrapped the ends of the stems with a fine, almost sheer paper. To secure everything & hold it in place, you braided a ribbon that matched the color of the textile.

“All done.” you showcased the finished product to him, a small, gratified smile adorning your face. “What do you think?” the question was almost shy, it needed reassurance. Which made him ponder why you were so doubtful of yourself & your abilities. To him, you prepared the most gorgeous bouquet he had ever caught a sight of.

“Plainly astonishing.” his praise warmed you from deep within. “You really do have an unbelievable talent.” you thanked him quietly, eyes flickering down to avoid his intense stare. By no means was it displeasing or inadvertent. It was sweet & thoughtful. You wanted to extend his stay, fearing that this would be a one-time interaction. But you could not remain on this high you were currently experiencing. The sound of the entrance bell fetched you back to the present. Another customer that needed attendance. Your togetherness approached an undesirable end. Controlled fingers punched a well-rehearsed pattern into the cash register. The blue numbers flashed for the man in the coat to see. Gloves & a fur-coat during spring? He was the only living soul you had ever met that made it work.

A wallet was pulled out of his pocket. Fine fingers retrieved the money. A beat went by. Two. Almost like he wanted to savor the little time you two had left. But your duties called. He would not use up any more of your duration. Maybe he had already overstepped & his appearance was no longer welcomed or appropriate. The notes were handed over. Your movements like a slow motion scene in your favorite movie. The scenery grasping your every bit of attentiveness. It was something you wanted to remember. To think back & hope to perceive that same feeling you experienced during the first time. You reached for it. The moment his clothed hand touched your smooth skin stilled the world once again. The gentle brush of his thumb over the back of your hand could have been missed if it was not for your body to be this alerted.

“Thank you for your exceedingly helpful guidance, …?” his eyes looked up at you sheepishly. You knew what he was intending. It was a silent question for your name. And you were more than eager to comply.

“(Y/N).” it was short, adequate. His smirk held a deeper meaning. What it was exactly, you could not identify.

“Why, thank you, (Y/N).” his emphasis was on your name. The way it rolled from his tongue was mesmerizing. You found yourself craving to hear that sound constantly. But you were not even sure if it was naïve to hope for his return. He would exit any second. Leaving behind a pit only he could fill. Your train of thought converted into utter despair. He was your customer. Nothing more. Nothing less.

“You never told me your name.” you called out when he was almost out of the door. One last time, he glanced over his shoulder. The fur tickling his chin a bit. One last time, you studied the way his lips lifted. One last time, you believed.

“Helmut.” he replied. “It was nice meeting you.” his hand pushed the door open. His body moved through the doorway. As fast as he entered your life, he left just as quickly.

“You too.” you whispered but he was no longer here to listen to your words. Your face fell, the previous spark in your eyes completely gone. The person in front of you waited until you paid all of your attention to them. It took a lot of effort but you managed in the end. The only difference was that they were not him. Nobody would ever be him again. But he vanished. Like dust in the wind, blowing away his remaining scent that had filled your nostrils.

Was it possible to crave a person you barely knew? Your subconscious sprinkled salt in your wound. Brains could be ridiculous. Nonsense. The teasing of your dreams, in the dark of the calm night, was echoing. Ricocheting off the walls that kept your emotions buried inside. Similar to being the main character in a horror film, desperately looking for a way out but being trapped no matter what. Why were you reacting like that? Why did Helmut waltz into your shop without any restrictions, turning your entire life, your entire world, upside down? He was one mysterious man. Uncommon, remarkable. Someone who swept you off your feet by simply being. One charming smile & you were gone for. The first words he directed to you & he gained you wholly. The worst part of it all was that he had no idea what he did to you. He had no idea that your thoughts were solely revolving around him ever since his entrance to the store. His entrance to your heart. What was happening to you? You had to move on, that much was clear. Truth was, you abominated that thought. Your focus had to shift. Back to your work, back to your task.

The following day started off with a bad mood. Certainly, the upcoming hours would be draining. You could not allow the shop’s closure. Not even for a day. Your family’s existence depended on it. Everything was the same. Chirping birds, a cool breeze, a short walk. The peacefulness before customers visited. Yet, everything was not the same at all. Because there was this nagging feeling inside of you & you knew you could not get rid of it. The ringing sound caught you off guard. It was unusual. Only once had someone entered this early in the mornings. And this one time was yesterday. Your shock was visible. Helmut’s presence was unexpected but definitely not unsought.

“Helmut?” your voice was an octave higher. The excitement emitting from you.

“Good morning, (Y/N).” he strutted closer to you. The same gloves, the same coat. The same offbeat & arcane man.

“What brings you here today?” your head tilted, trying to find a possible explanation for his return. “Wait. Was the bouquet improper?” immediately, thousands of dark, negative thoughts were rushing through you. You did your very best with the flower’s arrangement. Never before had you spent this much time & effort.

“No, not at all.” one of his hands raised & rested on your shoulder, squeezing the tiniest bit. You had to take a deep breath in order to stay calm. As calm as it was possible with him around. “The exact opposite. Which is why I am here again. Could you assist me once more?”

“Of course. What were you envisioning? Who are the flowers for?” your elbows propped onto the countertop, gazing lovingly into his orange shining brown eyes.

“I meant to ask for your favorites. You strike me as one with fantastic taste.” Helmut certainly had a way with words. No matter what he said, you found yourself captivated by him. The topic could be dreary but he made it sound fascinating.

“My favorites? It’s tough to choose one when there are so many stunning options.” you quieted down for a few seconds to really contemplate your answer. It was flattering that he asked for your opinion. “If you make me pick then I’d say…hmm, probably (Y/F/F).”

“Perfect. I would like to purchase a bouquet then.” right away, you got to work. Helmut watched your skilled hands. His enthusiasm only died down when he saw the frown forming on your face. “What is it?”

“Huh?” you were in your thoughts. His question was almost missed by you.

“That frown. Where is it coming from?” only Helmut could be so straight forward about such a small detail he had noticed. Would you tell him the truth? You should not. He did not need to know that your mood turned sour because he bought more flowers. This time, he did not let you know about the purpose of them. Another dinner with a higher up? Highly unlikely. But not entirely impossible. You assumed he would gift them to a woman. Hence why you sidestepped his question masterly.

“I believe it happens when I’m focused on my task.” you hoped your smile was reassuring but Helmut saw right through you. In the end, he did not comment on it. There was a building tension between you two. This time around, there were no lingering touches. He left the shop once again & it was clear that this was it. Helmut would not come back again. And maybe it was for the better. Your heart was too fragile to be crushed by his bare hands. It was not fair to blame basically a stranger. He had a life you had no insight on. But the aching could not be ignored.

Just as you wanted to lock the door to your shop for your lunch break, a voice reached your ears, followed by hurried footsteps. Turning around to look for the cause of it, you were shocked for a second time today. It was Helmut. The same bouquet he had purchased earlier clasped in one of his hands. The other one balanced two cups of coffee. As much as you wanted to withhold your smile, it was inevitable to repress.

“(Y/N)!” he was slightly out of breath. “I expected you were gone already.”

“Good that your expectation was wrong.” the warmth that filled your body was endearing.

“Here.” he handed you the flowers & your eyebrows furrowed. “For you.” he explained further when you made no move to reach for them.

“Why?” you inquired but grabbed the bouquet from him anyway. His posture relaxed & the grip on the cups was more secure.

“May I invite you on a walk through the town?” he suggested shyly. “I brought you coffee. I do hope it is after your liking?” the last part was a question. A sign that he doubted himself the slightest.

“I’m sure it’ll be delightful.” you eased his mind immediately. The cup was placed in your other hand. “Could you wait here for a minute? I should put them in a vase.” he motioned for you to go ahead. Your heart was doing backflips. It all fell into place now. You pieced everything together. He asked for your favorite flowers earlier today because he intended to give them to you. His plan was to spend your lunch break together. Helmut really went out of his way for you. His efforts were mellow. Returning outside once again, he patiently stood in the same spot. The softness of his features were rare on a man like him. You had met people similar to him but he was different. Helmut was that type of many who bought you flowers & made time to spend more with you.

You knew the town by heart. So did Helmut. But exploring the beautiful spots together felt like you were espying every corner, every building, for the very first time. Conversation flowed easily. Laughter was shared, loving glances were exchanged. He gave you a feeling of belonging. Like you were supposed to be right here from the very beginning. It felt right. With a man like him on your side, your life quality would finally improve. Helmut would be the one to quench your cravings. And you would not want it any other way.

Published (05/04/2021) by Cathy

✨MY Ko-fi PAGE✨

Tags: @takacsgram, @hiddlestoner-cumberbitch, @bibliophilewednesday, @yallgotkik, @noavengers, @lieutenantn, @birdieofloxley, @aisling1985, @trelaney, @sebastian-stan-d-on-my-throat, @thewinterrbucky, @loveinthemadness, @princess-yuna (thanks for your support <3)

[swiftiesimonriley]

hurts like heaven (divorced! frankie x lawyer! reader)

divorced! frankie x lawyer! reader, silver linings playbook! au

rating: teen (I guess), no explicit content except for drug use

warnings: depictions and descriptions of drug use (if this makes you uncomfortable you may want to skip this one), mentions of divorce and custody battles, mention of time spent in an inpatient behavioral health setting

word count: 3.9k (WHOOPS i got excited)

a/n: I am so excited for my first frankie oneshot!! thank you so much to @hailmary-yramliah​ for this request, I hope you like it!! here is my masterlist, and if you have any requests you can send me an ask! also credit to @hunterschafer​ for the beautiful frankie gif!!

"Mr. Morales, after a thorough review of the details of this case, including but not limited to testimonies of your close friends and NA sponsor, revision of your record, and speaking with the judge who oversaw the suspension of your pilot's license, I have come to the conclusion that you are currently unfit to have full custody of your daughter. I am hereby granting full custody of Eleanor Luciana Morales to her biological mother."

The minute Francisco Morales hears the words of the family court judge before him ruling in favor of his now ex-wife, he nearly passes out.

The former Delta Force soldier vaguely heard the protests of Pope, who is the only person sitting within the rows of seats on the side of the courtroom where he currently resides. He doesn't register his lawyer uttering a half-assed apology or even the cheers from his ex-wife and her family on the other side of the room.

All he hears is white noise as the judge bangs the gavel to settle the room, explaining that Ava now will have primary and sole custody and that Frankie will only be allowed supervised visits with a social worker, and that Ava can take her daughter home today.

Their daughter.

Frankie knows he isn't perfect - fuck, he is far from it but this just seems like a sick joke.

As soon as his license was officially stripped from him, he knew his marriage was over. The tension had started almost a year earlier when Ava suspected Frankie of using, to which he vehemently denied.

Of course, it was true, but how was he supposed to explain and admit to the love of his life that he needed the cocaine flowing through his body in order to feel anything anymore.

Things began to crumble soon after the initial suspicion by Ava. 

The best way Frankie thought to deal with this problem was to put some space between himself and his wife. He didn't want her to see him when he was strung out and begging for one last hit - God forbid his daughter see him like that.

In a way, Frankie was grateful that Ellie was still an infant, and that she would have no memory of the fights he had with her mother over his addiction.

He began staying out late at bars and other places downtown where he knew he could meet his dealer and get more of his fix, trying to keep it as far away from his home as possible. 

After a few drinks and a successful meeting with his dealer, he would make his way home where he eventually came down, the immediate rush of guilt and sorrow filling his heart as he would return home and see the bedroom door was locked, indicating he had to crash on the couch.

It was when he stepped through the threshold of his small cottage that he felt the shame bubble up from deep inside him, knowing that he couldn't just snuggle up next to his wife and pretend things were fine, or even cradle his daughter in his arms and rock her to sleep, as on these nights Ava made sure to keep Ellie in the bedroom with her. 

Those were the nights that haunted him the most.

Breaking Ava's heart was something long in the past - and he knew she wouldn't be able to just forgive him for what he put her through. She was always the one to give people the benefit of the doubt - something he used to tease her about but now feels scorned by. She was the one who stood by him when he admitted he had a problem - giving him support and resources for healing all while lending a helping hand. 

She knew he wouldn't try to harm their relationship on purpose.

But when his use began to impede more on their relationship, Ava put her foot down. She was getting tired of the cycle of hurt that came with each band of withdrawal and promises of this being the "last" time, only to see her husband relapse again and again. She tried her hardest to continue supporting him, her high school sweetheart, but she had reached her limit. She started spending more time with her parents, leaving Ellie in their care for most days so she didn't have to see her father stumble through the door after a night out. 

Two weeks later she served him with the divorce papers.

Frankie knows that he fucked up, be he never meant to harm Ava or Ellie along the way, especially his baby daughter, whose brown eyes were almost carbon copies of his own. He can't even stomach the idea of Eleanor growing up without her father in her life - she is his whole world, and since the day she was born he promised her that he would always be there for her.

But now, his heart aches knowing he is going home to a semi-furnished one-bedroom apartment, no wife or daughter waiting up for him like when he returned from missions or deployment.

Francisco Morales was not one to take the easy way out.

He clutches his patient belongings bag tighly in his right hand as he walks out of the lobby of the inpatient rehabilitation center, scanning the outside pickup area for a familiar truck. After looking around for a moment a truck horn beep startles him, turning to see a familiar mop of black hair peeking out of his truck.

Chuckling to himself, Frankie jogs over to the passenger side and hops in, feeling Pope immediately wrap him tightly in a hug. "I missed you Cat," he murmurs into the pilot's shoulder, giving him a comforting pat on the back before releasing the brown-haired man from his arms.

"I missed you too Santi," Frankie sighs, placing his bag down on the floor at his feet, "I don't know how much longer I could stay there without seeing a familiar face."

Santi lets out a low laugh as he starts up the truck and pulls out of the patient drop-off area before turning onto the main road. The two sit in silence for a few moments as Frankie stretches out his limbs, turning his head to look out the window as they drive down through the city.

The black haired man knows better than to pry and quiz the pilot about his 2 month stay at the local inpatient rehabilitation center. After the fallout of the trial, things got rough really fast. Santi knew deep down there was a chance of relapse, even with Frankie left the courtroom promising that this would never happen again - but it was all too much.

At 3:11 am Santi got a call from Frankie.

By 6:30 the pair were at the very same doors that Frankie had just emerged, with Santi comfortingly rubbing his hand up and down the brunette's back and they waited to check him in and head over to intake.

But Santi doesn't pry.

He just drums a tune on the steering wheel as he continues driving down the main stretch of road in the city. He watches out of the corner of his eye as they get to a red light as Frankie fixes his hair, running his fingers through the brown fringe across his forehead and he lets out a chuckle.

"What's so funny Pope? I don't wanna look like I'm fresh out of the hospital." He huffs, looking over his hair again before closing the mirror.

To say Frankie was nervous was an understatement. He had been out of the hospital for less than ten minutes and he was already on his way to meet a new lawyer. His new lawyer.

The previous week Frankie received a call from Santi during his afternoon rec time. At first he couldn't make out what the other man was saying, he remembers huffing out something the lines of "are you fucking drunk?" but made sure to keep quiet as he knew some people in the rec area didn't take too kindly to brash language.

He then remembers the hearty chuckle on the other end. "No I'm not fucking drunk 'fish, I'm excited! I just ran into one of my old college buddies-"

"Do you mean fuck buddies?" Frankie teases, letting out a quiet laugh as he hears a scoff on the other end of the line.

"No you idiot! I didn't sleep with every girl I knew back then, I know it's hard to believe," Frankie lets out a loud laugh, "I ran into an old friend of mine who went to law school, and let's just say she owes me a favor and she agreed to take on your case! Fish? Frankie?"

The pilot drops the phone as soon as the words are processed.

He has another chance. Another chance to see Ava and his baby girl. A chance to get them both back into his life for good this time, now that he has detoxed and spent his time working on his coping strategies.

They could be back in his arms once again.

"Mr. Morales? Mr. Garcia? She's ready for you."

"It's go time." Santi nods, standing up out of his seat and motioning for the pilot to follow him.

The pair make their way down the white and bright hallways of the law offices, walking past several cubicles full of lawyers and other workers chatting away before coming to an office with a glass door at the end of the hallway.

Frankie nervously plays with his fingers as Santi knocks on the door, hearing a soft "come in" from the otherside.

He follows the black haired man into the office and freezes in his tracks when he sees you get up from your desk and rush to pull Santi into a hug. He tries to keep his eyes from widening like a cartoon character but he can't help it - Santi didn't mention how gorgeous you are.

He listens to you both talk for a few moments before you reach your hand out and introduce yourself, a light smile playing at your lips. Frankie nods and takes your smaller hand in his before watching you go back to your desk. You open your laptop and pull out the file your assistant gathered on the details of the previous case.

"Mr. Mora-"

"You can call me Frankie," the pilot interjects, his cheeks turning red as you nod and take a mental note of that. "Frankie, do you want to start off at the start of your story for me? I always find it more beneficial to ask from the client's perspective about the details of the case, it makes a stronger case," you say, picking up a pen and looking at the brunette sitting across from you.

Frankie lets out a small cough and takes a soft breath in before laying his cards out on the table.

Santi stays quiet in the seat next to him, nodding along at the details of the story and offering a comforting hand on the back as one of his closest friends speaks about some of the darkest points in his life with you as if you have known him as long as you have known him.

It takes about 45 minutes of Frankie's explanations and your questioning to get all of the information you need for the initial meeting, making notes of the progress the pilot has made within the inpatient treatment center as well as Santi's testimony. You put your files away in the folder on your desk and stand up, making your way over to the two soldiers and giving them each a handshake, telling them both that you feel extremely confident in this case, and that you can't wait to help Frankie get his family back.

You can't miss the way he breaks out into a grin, probably one of the first genuine ones in a while, and you see Santi nod his head approvingly at you before giving you a quick "thanks" as the two begin to stand up and walk towards your door. 

Before they leave you quickly call out to Frankie, who turns around quickly and his chocolate brown eyes lock with yours.

"What's your daughter's name?" You ask softly, watching as his posture relaxes at the mention of his pride and joy. He reaches into one of his back pockets of his jeans and pulls out a small photo from his wallet and hands it to you.

You look over the tiny photo - it must have been from the day she was born. Her big brown eyes are the same as her father's, a small smile on her face.

"Her name is Eleanor, Eleanor Luciana," he smiles, a small tear welling up in the corner of his right eye.

A smile plays at your lips as you see the absolute adoration in his eyes as he talks about her.

You know you have to win this case.

You spend the next 3 months prepping for the case.

You know this process is not an easy one, especially for Frankie. At first, he came to your office twice a week in the afternoon right after his NA meetings, most times with Santi in tow. It was awkward at first for sure - I mean it isn't fun working with a lawyer about the bad choices he had made or the fact of the matter that he feels like a piece of him has died since he has been away from his family.

Santi helped ease the tension.

When it got hard for Frankie to talk about some of the details of his drug use, or the fights he had with Ava, Santi was there to help ease the conversation and help Frankie get through it. It helped that the two knew each other like the back of their hands, with Santi being able to crack a joke at a moment's notice and bring the pilot back down to the ground.

It was when Santi brought up old memories of your time back in college that you heard real laughter from the brunette.

They weren't your proudest memories, but the way that Frankie laughed at you and Santi's old college stories brought a smile to your face and gave you a feeling of butterflies in your stomach that you didn't want to go away. You knew deep down you shouldn't feel those butterflies, especially when dealing with a client, but something about the pilot made your heart flutter.

But the minute you would feel the butterflies, like after Frankie gave you a compliment about your outfit, you would feel the guilt wash over you in waves. Frankie was a father, a former husband who was working with you in order to win back his ex. How could you feel this way about a man who was fighting through hell to get his family back.

You were just his lawyer.

Seeing him open up each time he came into your office was something that struck you deep down, knowing that being this vulnerable is something that he doesn't take lightly. 

The two of you continue meeting twice a week after NA, with Frankie telling you about his feelings from his meeting and talking about his goals for this upcoming trial.

You continue preparing him with questions you know will be brought up by the family court judge, focusing on his plans for the future after his discharge from the inpatient center, focusing on the changes in behavior he has made of the past few months. His answers become more confident the harder you work, and you feel your heart start to swell as he talks about how excited he is to see his baby girl again.

But you also feel pain in your heart at the thought of the man before you leaving your life after this week.

It's the Friday night before the trial, a night you typically take off early on, but tonight is different.

Frankie was sitting here in your office earlier this week when he casually mentioned that he was getting his 6 month sober chip on Friday. Upon hearing this news you gasp and stand up from your desk, your feet carrying you over towards him before you could even register what you are doing - suddenly you realize that you have pulled him into your arms.

Frankie is shocked at first, a small "oof" escaping his lips as you held onto him, but he is grateful you cannot see the blush rising on his cheeks.

You quickly pull yourself back and subconsciously smoothing out your light green work pants before taking a step back. "I'm so proud of you 'Cat, that's so amazing!" You smile, brushing a piece of hair back behind your ear.

The pilot nods, a small smile playing at his lips.

"How about you come here on friday. You, me and Santi can have some pizza and a beer to celebrate," you suggest, watching as Frankie furrows his brow before letting out a chuckle.

"You don't ask all of your clients to have a pizza party in your office after hours do you?" He laughs, taking his hat off and fixing his brown locks before sliding it back on his head.

"I can't say that I do, but this is what Santi and I would do back in the day to celebrate, so why not celebrate this achievement before we get in the courtroom." 

You chuckle, remembering the days spent in the shitty apartment Santi had off campus. "Alright I'm in." Frankie smiles, "I'll bring the beers."

That night the three of you sit on the floor of your office like kids and chuckle at old stories, both from college and from the boy's times spent overseas. You watch as Frankie laughs at something Santi says and you feel the pain in your heart return, knowing that in a few short days your client would be back to his old life, and you would be stuck here back in the real world at your job. You know it's wrong, but these past months have been different than any other case you have taken on.

You know Frankie is going to be able to go back to his family after all of this - he is stronger than when this whole ordeal started and he has the support to prevent another relapse. 

Hell, you are proud of him outside of work, knowing this process wasn't easy - but the idea of this man walking out of your life brings you sadness. Knowing he won't be in your office twice a week for hours, cracking jokes and talking about nothing in particular towards the end. 

Sometimes you wonder what things would be like if you met under other circumstances. Maybe you two would have a shot - walking hand in hand at the local farmer's market, singing karaoke at the bar with Santi, Benny and Will, or even going on a flight with him.

You even opened up to him, telling him things even Santi doesn't know. But you need to remember why you are here - to win this for your client.

"Mr. Morales, after going over the details of this case, I see the dedication you have made towards your rehabilitation and future. I have talked with the treatment team at Maple Grove rehabilitation as well as your NA sponsor, and based on all of the information I have gathered is that you are fit to have custody of your daughter. You will now have shared custody of Eleanor Luciana Morales."

Before you can properly process the words of the judge, you feel two strong arms wrap around your torso and lift you in the air. You feel a blush come over your cheeks as you hear Frankie saying "thank you" over and over again as he sets you back down on the ground.

You both simultaneously pull back and hide your blushes as you thank the judge for his discretion and you faintly hear the bang of the gavel in the background as the court is dismissed.

You don't miss the way Ava storms out of the courtroom with her family and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Santi walks over to the two of you and pulls you both into a hug, rubbing a hand comfortingly up and down your back and thanking you for everything you did.

You nod as Santi pulls back and turns to his brother in arms, chatting about something you can't quite hear as you begin to pack up your white briefcase, pausing when you see a photo of Ellie on the table.

Since the beginning of the trial Frankie felt the nerves wash over him as this suddenly felt so real. You had suggested that he bring in a picture of Eleanor to place on the table so that whenever he became nervous, he could look down and see who he was doing this all for. Seeing the photo now brings tears to the corners of your eyes and you close up your briefcase - turning around to see that Santi has left the courtroom, just leaving you and Frankie.

"I just wanted to say thank you, for everything," he says softly, nervously scratching at the hair at the nape of his neck.

You nod curtly, trying to ignore the sore feeling in your throat - a telltale sign that you were about to cry.

Frankie tilts his head in confusion and walks closer, reaching out and grabbing your smaller hands in his. "I mean it - you have helped me through this whole process, and you are the reason I get to see Eleanor again, and for that I cannot thank you enough."

His words cut through you like knives - you knew this was coming. Your job is over, and it's time for him to move on.

"All in a day's work," you chuckle quietly, having to look down at your shoes to avoid letting the tears fall.

You suddenly feel softy fingers tilt your head up. Blinking through your lashes you see the pilot looking at you with only adoration in his eyes. You lock onto his chocolate orbs and nod slightly as he moves closer, softly crashing your lips against his.

You feel his strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling him flush against his chest in a soft yet comforting way. You find yourself getting lost in the moment, one of your hands tangling in his hair as he pushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

A moment later you both pull away, leaning your forehead against his as he lets out a small chuckle.

"I've been wanting to do that forever," he smiles, locking eyes with you once again, "I had to wait until I wasn't your client anymore, I didn't want to make it awkward or unethical."

You smile at his confession, brushing a piece of his brunette locks out of his eyes.

"Well now that you are no longer my client, would you like to go grab a beer?" You ask, looking at the way his eyes light up at your question.

"I would love that."

He watches as you grab your briefcase and wraps an arm around your waist as the two of you head for the courtroom doors.

He feels his heart swell in his chest knowing he not only has Eleanor back in his life, but now he has you too.

taglist: @hailmary-yramliah​ @babyprim​ @shadowolf993​ @jasterslegacy​ @collectorofexperiences​

[mymedlife]

Guys, the pandemic has broken me. Every time we seem to be making any progress I feel like we get set back again.

Sorry for the long rant ahead, but I feel like I need to get it out of my head.

Back in the beginning, last March or so, when the state I'm living in shut down, I felt like I could do it. Daycare shut down for almost 3 months to prevent spread.

My husband's job changed his hours to 10a to 8p since everyone was working remotely so they could all be working on the same time zone.

My cofellows were generous enough to switch shifts so I could work all nights and weekends and watch my kiddo during the day. Which kind of sucked, because she doesn't play independently for very long, o was tired, hubby wanted it quiet, and everything was closed so there wasn't anywhere to go to break up the monotony.

Work was filled with frequent changes around what protective equipment we have and what is required to be worn where. I got fitted for 3 different N95s because we kept running out, despite having to check them out and have them sterilized between uses.

I had frequent discussions about how COVID is real with families who refused testing. Parents lied about their symptoms to be allowed into the hospital with their kids, including one who collapsed mid visit due to respiratory failure. Several people ended up having to quarantine because they weren't wearing their N95s during the resuscitation as it was unexpected (at the time we were only wearing N95s during aerosolizing procedures including bagging). This lead to a new rule on not stopping in to help until you have the proper equipment on (which makes sense, but but is so hard).

Early on I spent some time volunteering for the COVID hotline for my state. Most of the questions I got were people upset that things were closing. There were very few health calls.

My aunt died. My sister, a psychologist, argued with her boss she should get a raise for being a frontline worker. My other sister, who is immunocompromised, was mad that all her friends continued to party guilt free and we kept telling her to stay home. My husband began to enjoy his new schedule to the point that he would stay up until 3am playing games after work (the kid was asleep and I was working) and sleep until he had to work at 10 am. My friends talked about their new lock down hobbies, including my co fellow who spent her time creating a new lecture series for the residents. I felt like I was trending water, I started getting behind on fellowship things and I was so tired. My kiddo was happy that I was spending more time with her, and it all was temporary, right?

Eventually things started opening up again. Daycare returned. Two days later my husband was fired. Thankfully he found a job within a few months, but during that time was quick to anger and his staying up all night playing games and sleeping most of the day got worse. He dismissed anything I had to say about it and frequently promised to sleep earlier, later saying he had to stay up because the kid had a nightmare that I slept through.

During this time, many of my pediatrician friends were called to see adults due to high patient volumes and doctor shortages. Luckily I only had to see kids, but there was still a lot of mystery surrounding symptoms and the discovery of the multi system inflammatory syndrome.

My kiddo got sent home a few times from daycare for vague symptoms that necessitated a COVID test, and at one point she was at home with me for 2 weeks due to a COVID positive exposure in class. My husband's job was new so he couldn't take off time to help. At some point things shifted so I was now doing all the daycare pickup and drop-off as well as all the bedtimes (unless I was physically at work).

Following Breonna Taylor and George Floyd there were large scale protests around the downtown area, where my hospital is located. I wholeheartedly support the movement, but someone told my kid it was dangerous to go downtown, and she became fearful of me going to work. This combined with the break in at our home lead to sleep refusal. Something I had to help he with, leading to bedtime taking hours, because my husband would yell at her. Most nights I was too tired after getting her to bed to do much, which lead to more work piling up.

Job hunting was not as fun as I had hoped it would had been. I had one in person interview, everything else was virtual. Thinking about working at a place I've never seen was terrifying.

Many places simply ghosted me. Lots weren't hiring. A few went on a hiring freeze after my interview.

Every interview asked what hobby I developed during lockdown. I admittedly could have answered this question better, and explained that I survived the lockdown with a toddler and that was an accomplishment.

My home institution decided to go with my co fellow over me. When I asked my mentor why she said they felt she had more to contribute to medical education than I do. I'm convinced that in part this has to do with all the lectures she wrote during lockdown.

I was able to get a job, but it's at a smaller community ED where we have a few beds in an adult ED. I mentioned to my associated program director I was a little disappointed, and suddenly everyone is telling me to be thankful for what I have.

I can be thankful and disappointed at the same time.

I think the biggest thing is a fear that if I hate this job I wont ever be able to find another one.

I also kind of resent my kid and husband, if I had more support or time to focus on fellowship things may have been different.

But life goes on. The vaccine was created, things opened up, and now those who aren't vaccinated can stop masking.

The my body my choice people who previously refused to mask are pleased, and now there are barely any masks when I go out (despite a not great vaccination rate in my area).

My kid is 3 and cant get the vaccine, so we still wear them. She loves to whine about how the others don't wear their masks. "It's not fair."

No, it really isn't.

Masks are still required in the hospital, which parents complain about daily. Recently every time I recommend a COVID test it has been refused. The pandemic is over. Kids can't get COVID. And other nonsense.

Kids as young as 12 can get vaccinated. However there is real concern about post vaccine myocarditis. Now everyone who comes in with chest pain wants to complain, even if they are unvaccinated.

Things have been stressful, and my kid is picking up on that. She still has trouble sleeping and has started having tantrums. We recently had a meeting with daycare and they want us to have seen by psych to get her evaluated.

I've found that I've lost interest in most of my hobbies, not that I have a lot of time for them. Fellowship finished and I have the next two weeks off before starting my new job. I was planning on spending it sleeping, cleaning the house, getting out the baby stuff as we are expecting a new little one in a couple of months, and rediscovering my hobbies.

Today I had an awful migraine. I cant take the meds I usually take because of the pregnancy, and my OB wont prescribe anything because he is worried about masking signs of preeclampsia. My husband refused to get up to watch the kid because he was tired, so I pushed through until he was ready to get up.

I lay down to try to get a nap and I get a call that there has been a case of COVID at daycare, and they will be closing for 2 weeks. They will open up the day I start my new job.

And this my friends is what has broken me.

I was so looking forward to finally have time for self care, and now I get to play stay at home mom again with my kid who is in isolation.

After that call I got up and left the house. I'm sitting in my car at the park writing this, and while I know I will go back home eventually, I'm tempted to drive off and let my husband deal with this for a change.

[szivtalan]

love is in the words unspoken

all these moments are golden,

forever is mine with you

the blossoming of the cherry trees always puts hawks in a strange mood. he thinks they’re romantic, magical - reminds him of a time when he was more naive, more dreamy, didn’t know much about the world. it’s nostalgic, to see the carpet of sakura petals on the streets, reminding him of what is and what could’ve been.

‘hawks!’

it’s ironic that he runs into endeavor’s child just as the flowers begin to fall.

‘hey, it’s todoroki.’ he grins, glancing at the two heroes behind the one already rushing up to him: deku and dynamight. ah yes, the three musketeers, as they call themselves. it’s nice to see the top three teaming up that way. ‘where’s the honorific though, kiddo? i’m still much older than you.’

‘not that much.’ shoto replies, and it feels like a shot to the heart. that’s right... they’re both in their twenties now. ‘and i figured i’d drop the honorifics now that i’m above you on the hero ranking list.’

the tilt of his head would be adorable if he weren’t such an asshole. tokoyami was right when he said that his youngest was different than endeavor - hawks only wished to see such a playful side of him.

‘the disrespect.’ hawks laughs, slapping shoto on the shoulder. he hits harder than what would be necessary, but the boy doesn’t even bat an eye. sturdy. and tall. holy shit, is he taller than hawks now? ‘anyway, i really don’t mind. are you guys patrolling around here?’

‘GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE HALF-AND-HALF, BEFORE I GO THERE AND BEAT IT!’ one youngster yells at them.

‘kacchan, don’t be so rude! he’s talking to hawks-san!’

‘friendly bunch.’ hawks snorts, and shoto just shakes his head with a smile.

‘they’re the best. i’m just trying to catch up.’ he admits, sounding sincere.

‘DON’T IGNORE ME, FUCKFACE!’

‘what are you doing around here anyway?’ shoto asks. ‘isn’t your office in a different city?’

‘yeah, i just came here to stretch my wings, take a walk.’ hawks says, ruffling his feathers a little for emphasis.

‘are you walking on your wings?’

‘n-no...?’

‘then how-’

‘WRAP IT UP NOW!’ at dynamight’s next shout, shoto visibly flinches. he seems more irritated than scared, at least to hawks.

‘i just wanted to thank you for helping my dad all those years ago.’ shoto says then, bowing his head a little. hawks takes it back, he doesn’t have an ounce of disrespect in his body. he’s just a little warped in the social area, and hawks has a fairly good guess where he gets that from. ‘i’ll be going now.’

‘wait, ah- how, how’s the old man?’ hawks tries to aim for anything but desperate. ‘i haven’t heard from him since the retirement.’

shoto looks at him thoughtfully, and those dual-colored eyes make hawks immeasurably nervous. he feels like he’s staring into his soul, opening up the secrets he’s got locked inside.

‘he’s well. i go home on weekends.’ shoto says, pulling up a notebook and a pen. ‘here’s the address. i think he’d appreciate the visit.’

the road to the todoroki estate was the most tiring one hawks had taken in a while. it’s not like it was far from where they met with shoto, but he spent the entire time worrying if he’s dressed well for the occasion, if he should just walk instead of flying to not get gross and sweaty - if endeavor will even let him in, or he’ll just pass by and get told off.

the house is huge, traditional, designed in classic enji taste. hawks could see the roof from a street away, almost walks into a lamppost while staring, his heart picking up the speed both from the scare and the nerves. his feet feel heavier with every step, walking down the street, finally getting to the gate-

and seeing todoroki enji, former number one hero, the feared endeavor sweep the walkway to his door, the scene way too casual to not send an already spring-up hawks into hysterics.

‘what the hell is that?’ hawks spits, laughter erupting from deep in his belly. the look on endeavor’s face just makes him shriek louder, his abs clenching with it. ‘is that- a fucking broom for ants, endeavor, you look so funny-’

‘can’t a man just do his chores in peace?!’ endeavor’s yelling now; sparks fly on his heated skin, and then they burst into flames.

‘now that’s the endeavor-san i know and love.’ he laughs, holding onto his own stomach, wiping his tears. endeavor’s face appears red under all that fire, he walks up to the gate to let him in.

‘what are you doing here, anyway?’ he mumbles, extinguishing himself as hawks walked in. he holds his broom under his armpit rather awkwardly, with the gracelessness of a man not quite used to doing the cleaning. hawks looks at him, observes: the slouch in his shoulders, the specks of grey in his stubble, the blush high on his cheek, the early wrinkles. he smiles to himself, reasons unknown, buried deep in a secluded part of his heart.

‘ran into your kid downtown, he said i should drop by and say hello.’ hawks lifts the nylon bags he’s been carrying, offers a lopsided grin. ‘i brought takeout.’

‘hmpft.’ endeavor is elaborate, as always. a man of few words and plenty actions, something hawks has always admired in him. ‘you can stay. only for the food.’

‘so you’re still very much hopeless in the kitchen, eh?’

‘don’t make me change my mind, brat!’

the house is huge on the inside, at least five bedrooms, two bathrooms, a big kitchen and dining room, and one living room all fit into one floor. all of it echoes from their steps, empty and lonely.

‘your boy said that he’s visiting you on weekend.’ hawks pries, shrugging his coat off as he hands over the bag. his fingers brush against endeavor’s fight-hardened, calloused ones and his heart feels like it could jump out of his chest again.

‘whenever he has the time. shoto’s a busy man.’ endeavor nods, his voice dripping with pride. hawks doesn’t need him to say any more to know how fond he is of his son. it makes him smile, actually. ‘why?’

‘and the rest of your family?’ he asks, a little more cautious.

‘i see rei and natsuo on holidays, and fuyumi usually spends her school breaks here.’ enji sets down the bag at the low table, grabs a pair of chopsticks from the dish rack. there are plates piled high there: it seems like he can clean up after himself, but refuses to put things away. hawks figures it’s pretty comfortable, considers that for a second before he realizes how much he can see into endeavor’s private life.

they sit down at the same time, and their eyes meet. ‘i’m not lonely.’ enji immediately turns defensive. there’s probably pity or sadness in hawks’ eyes, he wasn’t paying attention to his expression for a second.

‘i wasn’t suggesting you were.’

‘being alone is something i deserve. so i take my punishment with pride and strength.’ enji squares his shoulder, sitting up impossibly straight at his uncomfortable seat. he takes the boxes out, scatters them across the table for them to reach. no plates, though. ‘itadakimasu.’

they eat mostly in silence, warm, comfortable, and hawks can’t take his eyes off him. endeavor looks so casual, so approachable like this. he looks soft, in the slightly frayed sweatpants, a little weary from use, and the soft cotton shirt hugging his bulging muscles, stretching across his enormous shoulders. his face is a little thin, the wrinkles obvious on its unharmed half. from this close, hawks can see the grey hairs on his temple, too.

‘i’m looking for a place to stay.’ hawks announces once they’re finished eating. the look of surprise and something else - hope? no, it can’t be... - flashing across endeavor’s face startles him, but he’s not about to back down, now. ‘what-... ugh, how much do you think you’d rent out a room for?’

‘what?’ endeavor appears shell-shocked. ‘wh- why?’

‘well, because my apartment building is remodeling, and i’m pretty sick of living in the busier side of the city anyway. figured i’d change it up, move into the suburbs-’

‘that’s not what i’m asking.’ he snaps. ‘why me? don’t you have friends who’d let you stay with them?’

‘not anyone i’d like to move in with.’ hawks shrugs, playing with a few leftover grains of rice. ‘you know, i can cook, and i’m also willing to dry off and put away your damn dishes.’

‘hawks...’

‘c’mon, we can have sleepovers! i can braid your hair and you can braid mine. it will be fun!’

‘i can’t let you do that, hawks.’

‘okay, yes, i admit, your mane’s a little short for a proper french braid, but i can make do-’

‘hawks.’ enji’s voice booms. ‘no.’

‘you’ve known me for almost a decade, old man.’ hawks is talking back, suddenly fired up. ‘why won’t you just let me take care of you?’

‘because i’m a perfectly capable person who doesn’t need anyone to take care of them.’ he huffs, steam seeping from his nose. ‘and because i can’t let you do that to yourself.’

‘what, enji?’ he’s loud. is he shouting? he can’t tell.

‘waste your time on a bitter old man who isn’t worthy of you.’

now they’re pulling up the big guns. hawks deflates, props his head up on his elbows.

‘retired, but still on your self-deprecating bullshit.’ he sighs. ‘will you take it to the grave?’

‘hawks, i’m serious-’

‘and i’ve been serious, too. my entire life, about my feelings for you. you kept shaking me off, saying it wasn’t appropriate for someone your age dating someone so young, saying you were married, but all this time, i kept getting refused because you hate yourself too much to allow yourself to be loved?’

hawks doesn’t know when he stood up, but he’s falling to his knees beside enji now.

‘what kind of an asshole does that...?’ he whispers, staring right into enji’s fearful eyes.

‘an asshole who cares about you.’ enji murmurs, letting hawks hit him in the chest.

‘this isn’t “caring” about someone! this is just lying to yourself and keeping yourself from being happy!’ his fingers tangle in the front of his shirt, pulling him closer.

‘keigo-’ enji hisses, losing his balance and gripping the edge of the table so he doesn’t fall against the other man.

‘tell me no.’ hawks proposes, his free hand coming up to cradle his jaw, so prickly and manly and strong, the shudder that ripples through him from the gentle touch, making him so weak and vulnerable. ‘no more running away, enji, no more games. tell me no right now, and i won’t ever bother you again.’

endeavor furrows his brows, the skin around his scar pulling grotesquely over his face with the struggle. he takes a deep breath, and hawks gets goosebumps as the hot air from the exhale hits his skin.

‘i can’t...’ enji whispers, and hawks can barely hear over the sound of his heart shattering. he starts to let go, but he forgets to breathe and move altogether as enji leans in instead, hand coming up to hold him close by the back of his head. ‘i can’t say no, not anymore...’

the first touch of lips against his have his insides flutter, almost working him into a panicked frenzy. he can only hope that enji can’t feel his heart beating in his throat as he kisses him, deep and desperate and oh so careful. hawks clings into him, lets him chase him for a change, holds on for the ride.

when they separate, hawks feels dizzy, drunk with heat and pleasure. enji looks just about as much present, he seems dumbfounded.

‘well, uh.’ he says, and hawks would kick anyone who says he doesn’t have a way with words.

‘i can come on thursdays and fridays.’ he offers, for now. ‘that way your kids can still have you on weekends.’

‘thanks.’ that’s all endeavor says before he pushes a few stray strands of hair back from hawks’ face, leans in for another kiss.

it’s a date, then.

[ryukoishida]

Qian Qiu / Thousand Autumns Fic: [Ch 4] In which SQ drinks with YWS and YA barges in.

Title: You’re a Problem I Encounter Fandom: Qian Qiu / Thousand Autumns Characters/Ships: YanShen Rating: NSFW eventually Chapter: 4/? Summary: Yan Wushi was the proud leader of Huan Yue Group, one of the most influential syndicates in the underground world, who wanted nothing more than to see the world burn. His accidental encounter with the pure-hearted school teacher Shen Qiao was a problem he didn’t expect to get entangled in. A/N: So, funny story, I didn’t plan for this AU to be more than just snippets of scenes and vignettes, so now that there’s actually a Plot, updates might be sporadic at best. Sorry folks :’)  List of Chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4]

---

iv. Fake Love

In the end, Shen Qiao conceded to at least meet with YuWen Yong and his son once before deciding whether or not to completely turn down Yan Wushi’s proposition. That was his begrudged way to make up for the stab wound that was still bleeding merrily on Yan Wushi’s upper arm.

At Shen Qiao’s defeated declaration, the leader of Huan Yue Group looked pleased and seemed unable to hide his grin despite his injury.

With a weary sigh, Shen Qiao reminded him that this was only because he didn’t want Yan Wushi to get any other weirder ideas.

Yan Wushi was completely okay with that.

(When Yan Wushi got back into his vehicle, Bian Yanmei’s brows immediately gathered into a concerned frown at the sight of his superior's injured arm and ruined shirt.

Yan Wushi was known to be a painstakingly meticulous man – everything from his speech, his gestures, the way he fought, the way he dressed – he would not allow anyone to see him in such a disarrayed state. Besides, who would even have the guts and the capability to leave a bloodied mark on the leader of one of the most feared organizations in the syndicate world?  

���Yan-dangjia, is… everything all right?” Bian Yanmei helped him clean and bandage his wound. Thankfully it wasn’t a deep one, but it was definitely going to leave a scar.

“Oh, it’s more than all right,” Yan Wushi said with an amused grin, and left it at that.)

-

Almost an entire month had passed before Shen Qiao and Yan Wushi crossed paths again. They agreed to meet up at a high-end urban lounge in downtown called Indigo Palace, which coincidentally turned out to be one of Yu Ai’s favourite drinking places in the city, and as one of his closest friends, Shen Qiao had long been familiar with the establishment though he rarely partook in alcoholic drinks.

His last visit here had been an unpleasant one, to say the least, and to return to Indigo Palace after that incident instilled a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach, as if the moment he entered this place, he’d be swallowed up by abhorrent memories and be reminded of the once pure and innocent relationship he shared with Yu Ai had now been poisoned by betrayal and tainted with distrust.

Shen Qiao half-wondered if Yan Wushi picked this place on purpose; knowing his twisted personality, he wouldn’t be surprised if the leader of Huan Yue Group had found out about the connection between his kidnapping and Indigo Palace, and had specifically chosen to meet Shen Qiao here precisely because he wanted to see how he’d react.

No matter, he thought to himself with a bitter smile as he pushed the glass door and strolled in, jazzy lounge music immediately surrounding him like silken sheets, providing him a sort of mundane comfort that he found hard to explain.

Upon seeing Xuan Du Group leader’s adopted son, the concierge in charge of taking care of patrons at the entrance and filtering troublemakers and drunkards instantly plastered on a striking smile and lowered himself into a respectful bow in greeting, to which Shen Qiao warily nodded in return.

“Is Shen-shaoye meeting a friend here? Will you require a private room at all?”

“There’s no need, thank you,” Shen Qiao replied and was about to head straight into the seating area when he changed his mind and turned to ask, “do you happen to know if someone of Huan Yue Group is already here?”

“Speaking of the devil…” the concierge’s face twisted into an expression akin to a mixture of aversion and dread at the mention of such person, “Yan Wushi came in about fifteen minutes ago, claiming he’s here to meet someone. What does the leader of a rival group want from us? Is he trying to pick a fight with Qi-dangjia or something?”

“Where is he seated?” Shen Qiao hoped the clueless boy didn’t actually say or do anything to irate Yan Wushi for real, or he was certain the concierge wouldn’t survive even if he were given ten extra lives to spare.

“At the far end of the bar,” the concierge informed him with a sour look, “Gu-jie is keeping an eye on him in case he starts something.”

A good call on Gu Hengbo’s part, Shen Qiao mused with approval, and thanked the concierge before heading in.

Unlike a lot of pubs and bars in the downtown area, Indigo Palace boasted of tasteful décor, delectable drinks, and professional service. Most patrons were here to relax after a long, grueling day at the office nearby and just wanted to relax with a drink and some venting to their friends and colleagues; others through connections with Xuan Du Group might be here in one of the lounge’s VIP private rooms to deal business of the clandestine and illegal kind. Tonight, it looked just like any other evenings of a workday: men and women in loosened ties and wrinkled blouses chattered quietly in their own secluded circles, expensive drinks in hand.

Shen Qiao meandered his way to the far end of the room where the bar was located, the wall of colourful bottles of alcohol and syrup gleaming with a mystical glow under the subdued lighting of the lounge.

“Shen-dage!” the bartender was the one who spotted Shen Qiao first, and she greeted him with a bright grin and a friendly little wave after putting away the last glass she was wiping clean.  

“Hengbo,” Shen Qiao smiled warmly at the young woman, who was like a little sister to him since she started training and working under Qi Fengge’s tutelage. The four of them – Shen Qiao, Gu Hengbo, Yu Ai, and Tan Yuanchun – shared a close relationship like siblings due to their ages being relatively close. Though as they grew to have their own group of friends and social obligations, Shen Qiao would never think to abandon or cut ties with the three of them no matter how differently they lived their lives.

Gu Hengbo rushed to the side of the bar closest to Shen Qiao and began to prattle away, “Shen-dage, what have you been up to? It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve seen you! And you know Yu-dage, he wouldn’t tell me anything even if I’m being my most charming self.”

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to come in to see you sooner,” Shen Qiao smiled apologetically, petting the younger woman on the head with the kind of gentle affection that he only allowed when he was with people that he felt comfortable with. “Work has been… well, you know how it can get.”

Shen Qiao wasn’t good at lying, so the best he could do was avoiding the topic all together. From what he could surmise, Gu Hengbo still didn’t know that he’d been fired from his previous job, nor did she seem to be aware of the kidnapping incident.

“Ah-Qiao, you’ve kept me waiting.”

Before Shen Qiao could continue his conversation with Gu Hengbo, they were rudely interrupted by that oh-so-familiar drawl that could only belong to one person.

“Shen-dage, you know that man?” Gu Hengbo was actually about to tell him to stay away from Yan Wushi. She’d never met the infamous leader of Huan Yue Group herself, but she’d heard enough about the man, and given his dubious reputation, it didn’t make her feel any easier to see her beloved sworn brother getting acquainted with such a dangerous and controversial character, even by the standards of Xuan Du’s lawless nature.

“Unfortunately,” Shen Qiao only said drily, “don’t worry about him. He’s here to see me.”

Shen Qiao sighed, already feeling the start of a headache brewing in his temples, but his upbringing dictated him to greet Yan Wushi with as much courtesy as he could muster under the circumstances.

“Yan-dangjia, I see you’ve already made yourself comfortable,” he folded himself onto the bar stool next to Yan Wushi and was careful to keep a safe distance between them.

“I’ve got to say,” Yan Wushi swirled his drink in a tulip glass, the liquid inside a glistening rich amber, “I would never have expecte this place to serve such excellent cognac.”

“You have Hengbo to thank then,” Shen Qiao said, nodding towards the bartender who was looking at them curiously out of the corner of her eyes, “she’s the one who makes all the purchases here, and she does have an eye for good liquor.”

Yan Wushi raised his glass towards Gu Hengbo with an appreciative hum. She returned the gesture with a curt nod, eyes cold and guarded.  

“And what will you have?” Yan Wushi wanted to know after taking another sip of his cognac.

“Hengbo, can I have my usual please?”

“Of course,” Gu Hengbo happily made his order with elegant ease, measuring out and pouring different liquids into the silver drink mixer. The resulting solution was a pale foggy citrine fluid poured over ice chips into a copper mug and topped with a sprig of mint leaves and a thinly-sliced wedge of lime.

She slid the beverage across the lacquered bar top, but a hand intercepted the mug before it could reach Shen Qiao.

“Yan-dangjia…”  

“Moscow Mule?” Yan Wushi leaned in a little closer to take a whiff, a brow raising up before passing the drink off to Shen Qiao at last. “Virgin?”

“Do you have a problem with my order?”

“Not at all,” Yan Wushi smiled easily behind his glass, “I’m merely interested in what Ah-Qiao’s favourite drink is, that’s all.”

Instead of reacting to Yan Wushi’s comment, Shen Qiao took a much-needed gulp of his drink. The refreshing lime flavor and the spicy-sweetness of the ginger beer instantly cleared up his mind and made him feel better, slightly less annoyed by Yan Wushi’s presence and the brazen way the man kept staring at him while he drank.

Yan Wushi finally spoke after he watched Shen Qiao finished half of his drink.

“Well, how did it go?”

“I imagine you’ve already talked with YuWen Yong, so why are you asking me?” Shen Qiao cradled the mug with both of his hands. He was staring quite hard into the cup as if the answer lay somewhere deep in the bottom of his drink.

“I’d like to hear your side of things, too, Ah-Qiao,” Yan Wushi sounded almost genuine that it made Shen Qiao pause.

“How much did he tell you?” Shen Qiao turned to face the other man, gaze remaining hesitant.

“He sounded impressed, which is a rare occurrence for that man, so that’s saying something. He was also quite upset that you rejected his offer. I heard he’d even proposed to help you re-instate your position at your old academy, or give you a recommendation to an even more distinguished institution.”

“There’s no point in getting a position if it weren’t earned by my own merits,” there was something unshakable in the steady tone of Shen Qiao’s voice that fascinated Yan Wushi.

“There’s no shame in relying on someone else’s help now and then,” Yan Wushi reminded him matter-of-factly.

“That’s where you and I differ, Yan-dangjia,” Shen Qiao said in an equally pragmatic tone.

“I wonder…” the corner of Yan Wushi’s lips curved up in a subtle degree as he leaned closer towards Shen Qiao, the amber liquid in his glass churning with a mesmerizing pattern, “or perhaps you just haven’t hit your lowest point yet.”

As if sensing Yan Wushi’s sudden unwelcome proximity, Shen Qiao quietly shifted his body back with just enough precision and poise that it looked like he was merely changing his position of sitting by crossing his legs the other way naturally.  

“I don’t mind YuWen Yong,” Shen Qiao continued as if that little display of push-and-pull – a silent, deadly waltz – didn’t happen, “as a politician, he has done beneficial deeds for the public and he has good intentions, even if the means to his goals were a little… unscrupulous.”

“So, the problem lies not with him but with his son?”

Shen Qiao nodded grimly.

“I did say that brat’s a handful,” Yan Wushi laughed. “I take it that means you met YuWen Yun as well?”

“YuWen Yong insisted that I at least talked with his son first before making my final decision, so I did.”

“And?” Yan Wushi’s eyes brightened with interest.

He couldn’t avoid interacting with the boy since he was always having meetings with YuWen Yong at the politician’s mansion, but the few times they were forced to talk had been… well, let’s just say that if he didn’t have favorable business ties with YuWen Yong, Yan Wushi wouldn’t have tried as hard to prevent himself from throttling the bratty teenager with his own two hands. He wanted to know what Shen Qiao – a teacher who was experienced in communicating with children of different personalities and attitudes – might think of someone like YuWen Yun, who many would label a problematic child upon their first meeting with him.

“I’ll admit, academically speaking, he’s smart for his age. And maybe far too clever for his own good in other ways.”

“Oh?”

After another sip of his drink, Shen Qiao continued, “he played the role of a perfect high school student and the son of a respectable government official in front of me: bright, polite, just the right level of charm and playfulness, but there was something not quite right – I could see it in his eyes.”

“I didn’t know Shen-laoshi is an expert in physiognomy, too,” Yan Wushi commented with amusement.

“It has nothing to do with physical facial traits,” Shen Qiao said, “call it an instinct—”

“Ah-Qiao!”

The familiar voice made Shen Qiao freeze and his fingers tightened around the copper mug with such force that his knuckles were turning white. He bit his lower lip to stop the words that were about to rush out of his mouth; there were things he’d like to say, but he also knew that once some words were laid out bare, he could never take them back.

But Shen Qiao couldn’t – shouldn’t – run away anymore. Sooner or later, he’d have to face Yu Ai and their crumbling friendship, and what it meant to Xuan Du Group as a whole.

“Ah-Qiao, what are you doing with that bastard?” Yu Ai was now standing directly behind Shen Qiao, his eyes glaring daggers at the unwelcome guest. He’d heard from his own informants that Shen Qiao had started to mingle with some high-level member of Huan Yue Group, but never would he imagine the protagonist of the rumor was none other than the syndicate leader himself.  

Yan Wushi snickered, absolutely unperturbed by the pointed name-calling.

“You have the face to call me a bastard? I’m not the one who betrayed his own brother behind his boss’s back, am I?”

“You—!” Yu Ai was this close to pulling out his revolver despite being in public with witnesses and civilians all around.

At the exact moment that Tan Yuanchun grasped at Yu Ai’s bicep to stop him, Shen Qiao got off the stool and turned around sharply to face his sworn brothers.

“Yu Ai, that’s enough. There are people watching.”

He’d called him by his full name, Yu Ai noticed with a grimace. He didn’t think it would sting this much.

“Ah-Qiao…” Yu Ai seemed relieved that Shen Qiao was at least talking to him, and after sending another dark glare at Yan Wushi for good measure, he suggested in a softer tone as if any sudden or loud noise would scare Shen Qiao away again, “let’s find somewhere quieter. I’ve been meaning to talk to you since…since you quit your job.”

Shen Qiao raised his brows at the painfully awkward pause but said nothing.

“Ah-Qiao, for Tan-dage’s sake, will you hear Ah-Ai out just this once?” Tan Yuanchun opened his mouth for the first time that night, and Shen Qiao couldn’t say no to the benign face of his elder sworn brother.

“Please excuse us for a moment, Yan-dangjia.”

“Of course,” Yan Wushi didn’t even turn to see them go.

“Hengbo, are there any available spare rooms in the VIP area tonight?” Yu Ai called over to Gu Hengbo, who’d been furtively listening in on their conversation as she pretended to mix drinks for patrons.

“Sure,” Gu Hengbo only tripped over her own feet a little when Yu Ai unexpectedly summoned her. “Follow me.”

-

The music was entirely shut out by the soundproof walls of the private room, in which Shen Qiao had sat down on one end of the lush cushioned bench and Yu Ai and Tan Yuanchun had perched on the one that was set perpendicular.

Shen Qiao looked over at Yu Ai expectantly.

From this single expression, Yu Ai knew he’d been found out and that there was no use in covering up anymore, but it was still incredibly difficult for him to start, so he began with small talks, which he knew Shen Qiao hated.    

“H-how have you been holding up? If you’re having financial troubles, I can—”

Shen Qiao’s usually warm brown eyes hardened into cold sepia behind the icy glare of his lenses.

“If you’re that concerned about my wellbeing, then why did you do what you did in the first place?” Shen Qiao demanded. He never demanded anything of anyone – he asked, prodded, requested – but he didn’t like forcing answers out of others unless he was desperate, and right now, he was desperate – frantic and forlorn for the answer that he somehow knew he wouldn’t get from Yu Ai.

He didn’t wait for Yu Ai to confirm his suspicion, and with a sad smile brimming with thick, heavy disappointment that was almost tangible in the air, Shen Qiao said, “it was you, wasn’t it?”

Yu Ai inhaled sharply but didn’t have the heart to deny it.

“You doped my drink that night under the pretense of wanting to have a confidential chat with me about your crush on some woman working under you, when all you wanted was for me to fall unconscious so you can hand me over to Sang Jingxing like a wrapped gift. And for what? Money? A higher position within He Huan Group? What is it? What did Sang Jingxing and Yuan Xiuxiu offer you that made you decide to betray father’s trust… my trust?”

At the end of his rant, Shen Qiao was exhausted, the ice in his eyes melted into nothing but a muddy puddle of confusion, the strength leaving him as suddenly as the heat of frustration had struck just a moment earlier.

“I didn’t mean for the whole thing to go so far,” Yu Ai said weakly, his gaze downcast as he continued in a listless whisper, “Sang Jingxing… that sonovabitch went too far; he wasn’t supposed to hurt you. The initial plan was to just keep you imprisoned, give you a scare, make you reconsider your position…”

“My position…?” Shen Qiao’s brows gathered into a bewildered frown.

“Xuan Du Group needs a leader; we need you. Yet you keep dodging your responsibilities by detaching yourself from Xuan Du, pretending to live amongst civilians like you’re better than the rest of us.”

“I don’t —” Shen Qiao was startled by the raw animosity in Yu Ai’s voice, the bitter scorn etched so agonizingly obvious and real on his face. Had Yu Ai always thought of him this way? Shen Qiao was torn in pondering between this hidden side of Yu Ai and the equally true state of Yu Ai breaking his trust, even if his intention had not been as malevolent as Shen Qiao had initially thought. He just didn’t understand why Yu Ai had to go through such farce to get them here.

“It doesn’t matter now, Ah-Qiao,” Yu Ai said with a resigned exhale, and he glanced up to see the younger man staring at him with wide, lost eyes. He thought maybe he’d finally found the metaphoric chink in Shen Qiao’s always immaculate and perfect armor, and Yu Ai was not one to waste opportunities. “What matters is that you come back to Xuan Du with us. Qi-dangjia, the elders, and all the younger members will be so happy to welcome you back with open arms as their young master.”

Shen Qiao shook his head slowly but firmly; though disbelief was evident on his pale face, it didn’t erase the lucidity that still dominated his mind.

“Xuan Du has father, and father has you and Tan-dage. Hengbo, too. She’s becoming very good at managing Indigo Palace, so father should feel confident to gradually let her handle Xuan Du’s other affairs.”

“But none of us is the true heir of Xuan Du,” Yu Ai said, a sliver of impatience was slipping into his voice. “Qi-dangjia had always wanted you to be his successor eventually, despite the free reigns he gives you, but you wouldn’t quit your civilian job and we’re running out of time, so I figure…”

Yu Ai swallowed hard, and he wished he had something to drink to rid of the lump in his throat, but he pushed on, “I figure we’ve got to do something to force you to quit and rejoin Xuan Du before Qi-dangjia’s condition gets any worse…”

“Father’s condition…? What do you mean?” Shen Qiao cut in with widened eyes. “The last time I went back home…”

The last time Shen Qiao had went back for a visit, Qi Fengge had been taking more medications than Shen Qiao had last remembered, and he’d asked his adoptive father about it, to which the leader of Xuan Du only replied with a tired but genuine smile, “ah, it’s nothing a few more pills and a strict diet won’t fix. You know how it is – it’s the fun part of getting old.”

“I didn’t realize…” Shen Qiao murmured, eyes darkening and fingers gathered into fists partly from remorse of not noticing the gravity of Qi Fengge’s worsening condition sooner and partly from fury that nobody had thought to let him know.

“Qi-dangjia instructed us to not tell you,” Tan Yuanchun said, “he didn’t want to worry you.”

“Do you even know what’s happening within the inner circle of Xuan Du Group right now?” Yu Ai asked with a tense mutter, but the volume of his voice only increased with intensity from there. “The elders are shitting themselves because the group’s losing money, and they’re saying Qi-dangjia is the one to blame for running the organization like it was still the good, old golden days. Now that some of them are aware of his deteriorating condition, they’re going to find any damn excuse to kick Qi-dangjia out of the leader’s seat. Are you going to let those old dogs do that to your father? After all Qi-dangjia has done for you, do you have the heart to leave Xuan Du the way it is now?”

With his chest still heaving from the outburst, Yu Ai could hear the crevices in Shen Qiao’s armor crackling and multiplying, the gashes widening and seeping blood.

“I—” Shen Qiao rose halfway from his seat.

And then the door to the private room swung open.

“Do you enjoy teasing me by keeping me waiting, Ah-Qiao?”

[mostlycompetentwriter]

“Maze of Memories” - A Phobia Sequel

F/M Pairing: OC x Bang Chan

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Some violence, and mentions of drugs and alcohol.

Genre: Mafia AU; Sequel

Summary: Chan hated that his underground world of women, drugs, and alcohol threatened his family’s safety and well-being. But after yet another close call, he realizes that he finally needs to leave the Mafia world for good.

A/N: Hopefully, I tied up everything nicely with this AU!

Chan was paranoid, but he tried not to let it show too much.

Throughout the past few weeks, he had started to receive threatening letters in the mail concerning his wife and children. Under most circumstances, Chan would retaliate and have Jisung and Changbin find the culprit responsible, but he was unusually scared about this particular case. And maybe it was because he was protecting more than himself.

“You’re thinking about something,” his wife remarked, and he glanced at her while brushing his fingers through his hair.

It hadn’t been cut since the letters started arriving.

“Stressed,” Chan offered in return, and he turned onto his side so that he could rest his hand atop his wife’s stomach. “How are you feeling today?”

“Today was good,” she replied, and Chan was glad because the recent pregnancy symptoms had started to take their toll. Especially since their two-year-old daughter was still unable to grasp the idea that her parents might divide their attention with a future sibling.

“I have a meeting later,” Chan said, and his words were slightly slurred as he buried himself closer to the source of his wife’s sweet scent.

“Jisung told me earlier,” his wife said, and Chan had almost forgotten about Jisung’s impromptu visit that morning. But he was a regular mainstay in the house because he loved Chan’s daughter and he often spoiled her with gifts.

“Make sure the doors are locked when I’m gone,” Chan said, and he could sense his wife’s tension. 

“Is there something wrong?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Chan said, and he kept a protective arm wrapped around his wife in an act of reassurance that he would follow through on since he had once made a promise to always keep them safe from harm.

It was late when Changbin and Jisung met him at one of the loudest clubs in the downtown area. 

Chan was already annoyed by the pounding bass music which he could hear all the way from the street. But he was even more perturbed by the fact that he was hear at a club instead of next to his wife in bed. “It shouldn’t take long,” Jisung said as if he could read his thoughts.

“Who is this guy again?” Chan asked, following Changbin’s lead as he navigated their group through the treacherous dance floor and even further to the back of the club.

“He’s harmless,” Jisung said, snatching a flute of champagne from a passing waitress as the three friends sat together at their assigned section. “But he sells cheap booze.”

“Did you bring the contract?” Chan asked, and he rolled his eyes when Jisung plopped an expensive leather suitcase onto the table with a smirk.

“I’ve got everything covered, boss,” Jisung said with a teasing tone. “Mr. Kim should be here any moment.”

“Like you had everything covered last time with the case files?” Changbin chuckled, and Jisung shot him a glare, but any potential argument was broken upon the outlandish entrance of a man who looked like he had walked straight out of a Batman comic.

He wore an expensive suit, but the purple pants did no favors with the moss-green button-up that covered his torso. “Mr. Bang Chan,” Mr. Kim said when he was closer to their group. “It’s an honor to meet you.’

“Likewise,” Chan said, determined to skip the polite greetings.

“I can see you’re not a man who wastes time,” Mr. Kim remarked, and he sat down next to Jisung who already held the contract in his hand.

“Everything is ready for you to sign, Mr. Kim.”

“Slow down, gentleman,” Mr. Kim said, and he took a sip of his drink as he perused the complex verbiage of the contract. “I remember a time when your organization was notorious for spending weeks getting to know a client.”

“Time shouldn’t be wasted,” Changbin remarked, and he exchanged a quick look with Chan to let him know that he also sensed something unusual with this man.

“Oh, I quite like that,” Mr. Kim said, and he looked at Changbin thoughtfully. “Tell me, Mr. Seo, what are your plans for this contract?”

Changbin frowned. “Didn’t Jisung already explain everything?”

“But I want to make sure that we’re all on the same page,” Mr. Kim explained. “I would hate for there to be some discrepancies.”

“Like what?” Chan asked, and he usually knew better than to fall into such an obvious trap.

“Well,” Mr. Kim started, “For example, I heard a rumor that the three of you were planning to sell the Miroh organization off to someone else. Something about needing to settle down in the future.”

Chan bristled at the comment because that wasn’t supposed to be common knowledge. “Nothing has been decided.”

“I think I should know about it,” Mr. Kim continued. “After all, I like to understand my business partner’s motivations.”

“Our motivations are simple,” Chan growled. “We sign contracts with the clubs in the areas to help our own fortunes. We use these clubs to help our contacts when they need a place to meet.”

“Of course,” Mr. Kim agreed. “But if you sold the organization, then there’s no telling who might purchase it next!”

“We would research all possibilities,” Changbin contributed. “We’ve invested a lot of time and resources into its success.”

“Notably,” Mr. Kim said. “However, I can’t help but wonder-”

“You don’t have to sign,” Chan interrupted. “There’s nothing that we could do to stop you.”

“Oh, I’m signing Mr. Bang because I need the money,” Mr. Kim said. “But I’m advising you not to sell the organization.”

“You have no right to advise me about anything,” Chan sneered, and Mr. Kim shook his head like he was disappointed with the answer.

“I guess you leave me no choice,” Mr. Kim said, and he nodded to one of his men who immediately started walking towards the bar.

“What’s he doing?” Changbin asked, and there was a cold tension settling over the three men.

“Just making a call,” Mr. Kim replied. “I’ll probably pay the consequences tonight, Mr. Bang. But you’ll suffer even more.”

“What do you mean?” Chan growled, and he was reaching out for the collar of Mr. Kim’s suit jacket, holding him close so that he could see the amusement in his opponent’s gaze.

“You should get home to your wife and child,” Mr. Kim sneered. “Before it’s too late.”

But Chan didn’t need another reason to stand up from the table and end the meeting, giving Mr. Kim one last lingering glare before he left Changbin to deal with the messy clean-up.

Afterward, Jisung and Chan were speeding down the road, making phone calls to reach as many of their men as possible in the short distance that it would take to arrive at Chan’s house.

But the first thing Chan had done was contact his wofe:

“Sweetheart,” Chan had whispered into the phone when she answered the phone. “Take Ella and hide inside the secret room in the basement. Don’t say a word, and wait for me to give you the all-clear signal, do you understand?”

“Yes,” she had replied, but it broke Chan’s heart to hear the pain and fear in her tone, especially when he had also inadvertently listened to his daughter questioning why she had to leave her room so late at night.

“Are you good, man?” Jisung asked him when he hung up the phone, but Chan was anything but controlled. “Take it easy,” Jisung warned him. “We’re almost there.”

Chan knew that Jisung was right, and there was nothing else Chan could do until they reconvened together outside of his house. But it was still driving him mad, testing the limits of his patience. 

“Countdown inside your head,” Chan whispered to himself, trying to keep a hold on his volatile emotions.

10.

9.

8.

7.

6.

5.

4-

“CHAN!” Jisung shouted, and Chan opened his eyes right before the impact with the other vehicle which sent them spiraling down the road.

“Shit!” Chan cursed, but he realized that the impact wasn’t meant to kill them - it was only a deterrence to prevent his arrival home.

Subsequently, he watched as Jisung took out his gun and aimed it at the men in the other vehicle, firing off three shots in rapid succession. “Felix and Minho are almost there,” Jisung said after the attack, and he evacuated the shattered remains of the car before coming around to help Chan out of the passenger’s seat. “Are you hurt?”

“Just sore,” Chan replied, stretching out his arms before reaching back for his own weapon. “Let’s run.”

Jisung nodded, and the two men cautiously made their way down the narrow road leading to Chan’s private estate. Even from a distance, he could see the lights on inside the bedrooms, and there were unfamiliar cars surrounding the building. It was enough to get his adrenaline racing, and Chan was resisting the instinct to run ahead and find his wife and daughter.

But the risk of blowing their cover was too great, and Chan forced himself to stay hidden behind Jisung as they walked onto the front porch. “Minho’s around back,” Jisung commented, narrowing his eyes as he listened to something coming in from his ear piece. “There’s two men in the kitchen.”

“Take care of them,” Chan said. “I’m going to the basement.”

Jisung agreed, and Chan reared back to kick down the door before he and Jisung were rushing inside the house. 

“Hands up!” Jisung screamed when he parted from Chan at the staircase, and Chan could hear gunshots ringing in his ears as he kept moving his feet, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

There were no sounds coming from the bottom of the basement, and Chan tried to control his breathing as he knelt down to flip on a light switch. Immediately, there a shot from an opponent who was standing next to the backdoor, but Chan was low enough to dodge the attack before returning firing successfully.

And once the other man had collapsed to the floor, Chan wasn’t hesitant in the slightest to knock four times on the door to the secret room in a careful pattern that he had rehearsed with his wife and daughter. “Daddy!” he heard Ella screech just seconds before she was launching herself into his arms.

And he held her close with an impossible strength.

“Channie,” his wife added, wrapping her arms around her stomach as she left the room with tears rimming red circles around her eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” Chan whispered, and he opened his arms even wider for his wife, keeping his family close as they all cherished one another in the aftermath of an incident that could’ve been far worse.

It was enough for Chan to realize that he was done with the Mafia world, and he would sell the Miroh organization and do his best to distance himself from the drugs and alcohol. Instead, he would give his family a better life - one that they deserved where their safety would never be questioned, and where his daughter and future child could grow up without ever worrying about the need to look over their shoulders.

It had been his life for so long, but he was surprised at how easy it was to give up everything for the people who had completely and utterly captured his heart.

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Heaven, Hell and You

John Constantine x OFC (Valarie Moore) 

Masterlist  Chapter 1

Warnings- Violence, biblical references (sort of, I think)

Chapter 2

Humming under her breath, Valerie strolled through the little convenience store in the city. She still donned her uniform, light blue scrubs and white shoes, though thankfully, she was only half as tired as usual. Even better was the fact after her shift gone by, Valerie would have the next twenty four hours off and wouldn't have to see the hospital, and by extension, the ICU for the next day or so. It was her one day off for the week and she was determined to make the most of it. The most beginning with unwinding in a warm bath and a glass of wine. 

The shopping basket was hooked in her crooked elbow as she slowly walked to the liquor aisle, slowing down even further as she passed shelves lined with different kinds of pasta on her way. Maybe she could make herself dinner too, instead of ordering takeout. For a minute, Valerie seriously considered it, but then, remembering how long it might take and how much she'd anticipated doing absolutely nothing, she decided that it could be an activity for some other night and that pizza would do just fine. Once again, she began, head down, cast towards the beat up tiled floor, not even noticing that she was walking straight into someone.

"Shit," she swore, coming into contact with a man's chest, consequently stumbling backwards, "Sorry," Valerie huffed a quiet, breathless chuckle upon noticing how strikingly handsome he was; sharp bone structure, pale skin and raven  hair.

"Its my fault," he dismissed, not even bothering with returning her shy smile. Instead, he shoved one hand into the pocket of his black trench and readjusted his hold on his half filled basket, "Sorry about that," he nodded politely, proceeding to furrow his brows in what she perceived to be confusion. "Do I know you?"

Equally confused, Valerie's lips quivered with questions unspoken, and eventually, she found herself tucking a soft brunette lock behind her ear, the little diamond stud on her earlobe twinkling teasingly, “I don’t think so,” she licked her pink, bare lips, “Maybe I just have one of those faces,” Valerie giggled quietly, though, she could tell by the man’s stare that he wasn’t buying it for a second. It was slightly unnerving, the way he was looking at her, like he actually believed that they knew each other.

“Maybe,” he scoffed, apparently only agreeing cause he really couldn’t place her, “Sorry,” he cleared his throat quietly.

He seemed to shake off whatever he was feeling, moving to go around her before she could even dismiss his apology and assure him that it was all good. As Mr. Tall, dark and mysterious, went about his way, Valerie turned around, sparing him one last glance, trying to ignore the disappointment in their conversation being over. She didn’t really get out a lot, discounting work, and her flirting skills were very rusty, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t know a hot guy when she saw one, and she’d just spoken to one, barely. 

When he didn’t look back, either pretending to not see her or just ignoring her completely, Valerie sighed heavily, continuing towards the limited liquor selection without another look back hoping to eventually dust off her disappointment that he hadn’t shown much interest in her.

2 Weeks Later John usually preferred to drink alone, at his loft, sometimes in front of the television, sometimes while he worked. Needless to say, John didn’t ordinarily visit bars and pubs, but alas, Angela had called earlier that day wanting help with a case, and seeing that she was one of his only friends, he didn’t really think it right to refuse her. So there he was, at some no name, low lit place in the city, nursing a glass of whiskey straightening up when he saw her come through the doors of the place. “Hey,” she smiled softly, still in her work clothes, holster peeking out from beneath her blazer, file in hand, “You got started without me,” she nodded to the glass on the table as she sat on the opposing chair. 

“You took too long,” he huffed, bringing the glass to his lips. The air around them stank of cigarettes, which wasn’t exactly ideal considering that, quitting had been hard, and even a year later, the smell alone still tempted him sometimes. Reaching into his pocket, he dug around for the pack of nicotine gum that he had taken to carrying around, shoving a stick into his mouth before talking again. “That the case?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, handing over the manila folder, “Why don’t you look it over while I go get a drink?” 

Wordlessly, John took it, letting it lay open on the table before him, slowly sipping his drink as his weary eyes scanned the pages, looking for anything that would prove inhumanity. There were definitely some things that looked ritualistic, and John could certainly see why Angela had grown some suspicions; the Latin scrawling and the way the bodies had been mutilated pointed to something supernatural. But John could also easily see the human factors, the little details that showed him the killer was actually human; there were slight discrepancies in the incantations printed in blood on the walls and the marks were hardly drawn with fluidity. “Your guy, whoever he is, is human,” John eventually determined, sliding the folder back towards Angela. 

Slumping her shoulders, she took a swing of her beer, running a hand through her hair with a defeated sigh, “Seriously? I just thought….”

“I can see why,” he nodded, “But here,” he hit one of the pictures with the pad of his fingers, “And here,” he tapped another spot, “These translations don’t make sense. It’s definitely Satanic worship, but not by a half breed.”

“Great,” She groaned, “Now its back to the drawing board I guess…” John didn’t really hear the rest of Angela’s sentence, for when he looked up, he was greeted by a familiar face. It was the girl from his dreams again, and of course, the same one he’d met at the convenience store just about two weeks ago.

Since then, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head, his troubling dreams had only grown more  lucid, and once or twice, he’d even found himself unable to determine if he was actually dreaming until he’d wake up, most times with his heart ready to burst from his chest and his mind a mess. At first, he’d tried to convince himself that meeting her had been a dream too, but now, seeing her walking into the bar, flanked by about four other people, John knew that it was real. She, whoever she was, was real.

And she was absolutely stunning in person, far better than what his mind had managed to conjure up. It wasn’t hard to think that she wasn’t real, John never thought that it was possible for a human to look so……..remarkably flawless. Could humans even be made that perfect? Part of him longed to know her; know who she was, what she was like, why she’d dominated his dreams for months before they’d even crossed paths. But another, though weaker, part urged John to keep his distance, to stay away from her; those dreams had to mean something, and above everything, they meant that she was trouble. 

Still, John found himself, sitting in a wooden chair that didn’t really do anything for his back, staring at the girl he’d been losing sleep over as she stood at the bar, getting drinks while her friends claimed a table. She wasn’t wearing scrubs that night, instead, she’d switched them out for a little black dress that ended above her knees, boasting her very nice legs, with capped sleeves and tiny red polka dots about the entire thing. Though his eyes stayed on her, she didn’t look his way for a second, too busy trying to wave over the buzzing bartender. 

“Are you even listening to me?” Angela snapped her fingers in front of John’s face, rousing his attention. Meeting her frown, John finished off his drink, not really able to lie and say he had been, considering she was very likely to question him on it, knowing full and well that he wouldn’t have an answer. “What are you looking at?” Angela turned in her chair, trying to see what, or rather who, he was seeing. 

“Doesn’t matter,” he huffed gruffly, rolling his whiskey orbs and twirling the empty glass in his hands, “I’m gonna get another drink.”

“Feel free to flirt while you’re at it,” she teased lightly, and he largely ignored her, not even turning Angela’s way as he headed towards the bar. 

He’d had every intention of ignoring her, just like he had when she’d turned around to give him one final glance back at the store, but by some unfortunate coincidence, the only empty spot left at the bar just happened to be right next to where she was standing. Slipping in, John maintained his silence, not even looking at the woman as he leaned on the lip of the varnished, wooden bar top, drumming his fingers impatiently. She didn’t seem to notice him at first, though, all she had to do was turn to the side to  before her eyes lit up in recognition, “It’s you,” she gasped, taking a tentative step back.

Clearing his throat quietly, John didn’t bother to force a smile, smiling wasn’t really his thing anyway, “It is,” he nodded, “Funny seeing you here,” even if he had absolutely no interest in smiling with her, that didn’t mean he was particularly opposed to seeing her smile.

But, alas, she didn’t. John couldn’t blame her though, passing jokes weren’t really his area of expertise, and she just scrunched her face, “Is it though? I mean, its downtown L.A, you probably see the same person three times a week, it’s just, you almost knocked me over, so you actually remember.”

Rolling his eyes again, John shook his head, avoiding her pretty dark gaze. She had nice eyes. No, nice might have been an understatement, she had gorgeous eyes, so dark and bottomless, almost completely black. If given the opportunity, John thought that he wouldn't mind getting lost in them. Maybe that was why he’d been avoiding them so much, because he wanted to mind, because getting lost in her eyes meant he’d have to get to know her, and getting to know her meant letting her in. And his life wasn’t one that allowed for that sort of thing. Besides, he didn’t even know her name. 

“You walked into me,” he argued half heartedly, hoping the bartender would make his way to their end soon. The longer he stayed, the more they’d talked, and the more they talked, the more he’d want to know.

“If I remember correctly, I believe you said that it was your fault,” she quipped, a teasing glimmer in her dark pools, and a smirk up turning her lips.

Huffing a chuckle, John sighed in relief when the bartender drew nearer, “I was being polite, don’t make me regret it.”

“What a gentleman,” the woman taunted sarcastically, no malice in her tone, though, it was laced with subtle intrigue, and before John knew it, she was offering her petite hand, “I’m Valerie, Valerie Moore.”

Reluctantly, John  took her hand, enclosing it in his larger, calloused one, “John Constantine.” As hard as he tried, it was difficult to pretend that her touch didn’t have an effect on him. Her, Valerie’s, hands were so soft, and John felt like just the slightest haste could hurt them. He could see why she was in the medical field though, he could tell by the scrubs she’d been wearing, with the hospital’s name etched on the breast pocket, her hands felt healing. It was hard to describe how, but quickly, John had imagined that anyone graced by Valerie’s touch would feel better about anything in seconds, he knew he did.

Scrunching her face, Valerie giggled as she reclaimed her hand, and by just her relaxed demeanor, so different from how flustered she’d been at the store, it was obvious that she’d probably been drinking even before getting to the bar, “Like the Roman Emperor?”

Snorting, John squinted his eyes, “What?” He fought a smile, caught off guard by the fact.

Glancing down at their feet, her pale cheeks took on a rosy hue, accentuating her thick dark lashes, “It’s nothing,” she mumbled, her giddy giggles softer, “My dad’s a history teacher and sometimes I just-”

“Hey,” a matronly woman, no doubt years older than Valerie interrupted, gently laying a ring adorned hand on her girl’s bare shoulder. Maybe she was her mother, though it didn’t quite seem like it, surely though, she was someone that cared enough to come check in when Valerie was caught in conversation with a lanky stranger, “Everything okay hun?” The short, plump women looked between them, and it was only then that John realized just how close they’d been standing.

“Huh?” Valerie cast her wide innocent eyes towards her friend, “Yeah, I’m fine Martha, I was talking John’s ear off over here,” her blush deepened. She was so, painfully innocent John thought, girls in L.A weren’t usually like that, so blushy and reserved. 

Nodding slowly, Martha gave John a cautious once over, as if determining whether or not he was worth her friend’s company or not, “Okay,” her tone held a skepticism and when the bartender placed a some beers near where they were standing, Martha took a few, only leaving behind one for Valerie, “Well, I’ll leave you two to it, but everyone’s right over there. Right Val?”

“Yeah,” she nodded astutely, “I’ll be right over, thanks Martha.” When the older woman was out of earshot, Valerie turned back to him, offering a shy smile and quick blinks. After, she took a quick, tentative sip of her beer, before speaking again, “Sorry about that, Martha’s just…..protective.”

“It’s okay,” John inhaled deeply, vaguely aware of Angela casting him an intrigued stare from their table. He knew she wasn’t jealous or anything of the sort; they’d tried the whole dating thing for a short stint, after he’d started cleaning himself up and she’d had time to properly grieve for her sister, but in the end, had decided that they were much better off as friends. “I should let you get to it,” he got his drink, another finger of whiskey, “Be careful, okay?” John didn’t know why he’d let himself say it, but the urge might have nagged him otherwise. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that Valerie might be in actual danger. 

“Um,” stunned, Valerie straightened her back, swallowing thickly, “Yeah okay. It was nice to meet you John,” and before he could return her words, just after her smile faltered, she was turning on the flat heel of her black ballet pump and hurrying off towards the group she’d arrived with, and unlike that night in the store, she didn’t look back.

It was late when Valerie and her friends from the hospital had finally decided to leave the bar, nearly stumbling out onto the sidewalk. “You sure you’re good to drive Val?” Damien, one of the other Nurse practitioners, probed before he could start walking in the direction of his own car.

“Yeah,” already, she was rummaging through her little purse for her keys. Of course, she wasn’t exactly sober, but Valerie didn’t live too far away from the place they’d chosen, it was just about a fifteen minute to her place. “I got this,” she laughed giddily, trying to suppress a stumble as she moved away from the group. The rest of goodbyes were exchanged with an air of skepticism, and her friends seemed reluctant to let her leave, but Valerie was a bit past noticing their worry, eventually shaking them off, slowly staggering towards her car, parked all the way at the top of the street. 

Everything was fine, at least for a while until the night chill broke through her thin coat and at some point, the path in front of her started to seem bleary. Worse yet, she was pretty sure that there was someone following her, keeping close the shadows, several feet behind her, their identity shrouded. Unnerved, she sped up, clutching her keys tightly, the metal cool in her palms. Heavy, shallow breaths were hard to contain, and that was when it happened, sending the iciest chill up her spine.

“Precious little Valerie shouldn’t be walking alone. Bad things happen when pretty girls walk alone….” The ragged, hoarse voice seemed closer than it ever had, and then, out from the shadows, merely two or three feet in front of her, was a boy, no older than sixteen, his skin hard and yellow, and his eyes unfocused and glassy. 

Half a panicked scream left her quivering lips and Valerie could feel her heart trying to break through her ribs and leap right out of her chest. In an instant the boy…..or whatever was left of his apparently decaying form lunged for her, barely phased when she swung her bag offensively, hitting him square in the jaw. “What the fuck?” She breathed, too frightened to scream as she stumbled, falling back into the damp sidewalk.

Wildly, she kicked him in the face, not caring if her attempts of fighting back were barely buying her time. It couldn’t end that way; she was too young. “Let go of me!” She violently wiggled her leg out of his grasp, scrambling up and trying to run towards her car, her left shoe slipping off in the process, nearly causing her to slip on the slippery concrete. 

For a split second, Valerie thought that she might have escaped her nasty faith, but nothing was as unforgiving as whatever was after her. Enraged, it’s high pitch, demented shrill rang out ear piercingly, “No!” It reached for the back of her dress, “Valerie comes with me!”

It was over. It had to be, the teenager from hell had caught her. He was stronger than her, or so she thought, and he was about to drag her to whatever hole he’d crawled out from. But then unthinkable happened, all in a blur; a familiar form leaping out of alongside the darkened store fronts, formerly protected by the darkness, was now fighting her battle for her. And much more efficiently too. In what seemed to be an instant, though might have just been minutes sped up by her adrenaline fueled mind, John ‘not the Roman emperor’ Constantine, had the kid pinned down,  splashing what Valerie could only presume to be water, or maybe clear liquor on his face. Really, she didn’t know, but she could tell that it had been enough to weaken him enough, so John could subsequently start reading from a little black book. “Close your eyes,” he growled, taking a minute from his words.

“What?” Confused and scared, it was safe to say that Valerie was having a hard time processing even the simplest instructions.

Taking another quick, very reluctant break, John, more annoyed than ever, simply spat, “Your eyes, close them!”

Without any other reasonable explanation besides not wanting him, or anyone else to viciously attack her, Valerie shut her eyes tight. Her other senses kicked in, working in overdrive, trying to piece together what was going on, though all she could comprehend were John’s continued prayers and then, after a few minutes, a body tackling her, once again knocking to the floor again. It wasn’t the boy though, no, he had smelt disgustingly of sulfur, but this person gave off another aroma; soap, cologne and whiskey. Cracking one eye open, Valerie sighed in relief once her suspicions were confirmed; it was John. 

His face hovered less than an inch over hers, lips so close that it would take barely any effort to lean up and kiss him. Their breaths were shared and Valerie could feel John’s hard chest pressing on her breasts, his weight heavy on hers, though, she didn’t think she wanted him to move anyway. His presence and their proximity was so consuming that she hadn’t even noticed the shattered glass surrounding them, pieces caught in her hair, though his larger body shielding her from the worst of it. “You-”

She didn’t get to finish, for the minute that John realized that he was lingering, holding her down for longer than he needed to, he struggled into a standing position, offering his hand to help Valerie do the same. “You need to come with me,” was all he chucked out when they’d just started grasping their bearings, his fingers enclosed around her upper arm, trying to pull her along.

Though, now sobered by her near heart stopping experience, Valerie fought his grip, almost yelping when she saw the boy laying on the ground, looking far different from how he’d been when he attacked her, and the glass from one of the store fronts completely shattered, “What the fuck is going on?” Her hair was wet from some puddle or the other, her clothes were soaked through too and one side of her shoes was still missing. And that was just the physical damage. What was going on in her head was something entirely different. 

“I can explain this when you’re safe,” he urged her along, not even phased by her fighting.

Trying to yank her arm away, Valerie refused to give in so easily, “And I’m safe with you? I barely know you. And we can’t just leave that kid on the sidewalk.”

“He wasn’t the one that almost died back there,” his low, gruff voice dripped with annoyance, and Valerie could tell that he really just wanted her to shut up. But how could she with all that was going on?

“What was that back there? What the hell was wrong with that kid? Are you a priest, why were you saying Saint Michael’s prayer?” The questions just tumbled out of her mouth, right as she’d finally wrenched herself from John’s grip.

Finally, realizing that she was too stubborn for them to make it to his car, John slumped his shoulders, begrudgingly giving in. Why’d he have to want to save her so bad? “You speak Latin?”

“What?” She scoffed, folding her arms, “I don’t, and if you’re not going to answer my questions, then I’m going back to my car.” 

Turning on her heel, Valerie had just started walking again, when John halted her with a series of brief explanations, “That was a possession, and then an exorcism. That kid was possessed and no, I’m not a priest.” When she turned back to him, he slipped his hands into the pockets of his black slacks, “Now lets try this again, do you speak Latin? And don’t lie to me.”

“I don’t,” now traded places, with Valerie being the annoyed one, she spoke through gritted teeth, “Why’s that so important to you anyway?”

“You ask so many questions,” he rolled his eyes, “And its important because that’s the only way you would have understood a word of that prayer. Unless you’re a really devout Catholic.”

Taken aback, Valerie’s eyes widened, jaw hanging slack, “I’m not,” she gasped, she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d set foot in a church or even prayed. “You…..I….you were…...that was Latin?”

“Well it wasn’t exactly English,” John joked, dry and humorless, only frowning when he noticed her trouble, “But you didn’t know that.” All she managed was a slight shake of her head. “Did you understand what he was saying?”

It couldn’t be. “Yeah,” nothing followed the breathy peep, as Valerie was too busy getting lost in a swirling pool of despair. A demon possessed kid knew her name, tried to kidnap her, and now she could speak dead languages? Maybe she should have just stayed home that night. “What’s…..I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I,” John grabbed her shoulders, probably thinking it would ground her, Valerie knew the little trick well, it was something she did when patients started freaking out, something about having someone’s comforting touch was centering. “But I might be able to help you, I just need you to trust me, okay?”

Trust him? A man she didn’t know? A man who could probably want her dead, just like some apparent demon.

But his eyes were so sincere, and beneath his cynicism and sarcastic quips, it actually seemed like he cared.

It wasn’t something her father would approve of, and Martha would definitely give her a lecture or two on her naivety, but there she was, thinking that maybe John was exactly who he said he was; someone that could help.

“Okay,” Valerie relented, finally letting John urge her to his car, going wherever he’d take her just so she could have some answers.

*****

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi  @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves  @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea  @luxx-aeterna

[httphopewrld]

I Don’t Know What to Call This | (f/m/a) sneak peek!!!

Just Friends? Friends with benefits? Dating? Questions swarmed your mind when one of your dear friends, Allie, asked about you and Hoseok’s relationship. The truth was you didn’t know. You and Hoseok were close, knowing each other since elementary school, and considered each other friends. However, as you two grew older, maturing into separate professions—you a well-known fashion designer, and Hoseok a famous musician and dancer—you two had engaged in some intimate activities (sex—lots of it.) After Allie’s simple question, you had to confront your feelings. But were you and Hoseok ready to be more than close friends and fuck buddies?

Pairing: friend/lover/bfhoseok! x female reader

Genre: slow-burn fluff, some angst, and SMUT

Rating: 18+ because there’s swearing and pretty detailed smut

Warnings: swearing and SMUT (one of the most detailed smuts I’ve written, and there’s more than one sex scene.) Smut includes: switch!reader and switch!hoseok, grinding and thrusting, protective sex (USE CONDOMS, I cannot stress that enough), lots of kissing, ass-grabbing, dirty talk, a wee bit of choking on both sides, squirting, male and female oral, fingering and handjobs, vibrator use, cyber-sex, reader uses dildo, slight degradation, and just lots of filth—YOU’RE WELCOME FELLOW FILTHY ANIMALS.

Word Count: more than 10,000 (not finished yet)

A/N: Happy birthday J-Hope! Although the fic won’t be released today, or tomorrow, on his birthday, it will be out next Friday (February 26). Please let me know in the comments if you wanted to be included in the taglist, and what you think!

Taglist: @kirbykook @kleritata @taestannie @jenotation @hemmos-obrien​ @zeharilisharaban @speed-of-wind 

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

You can move those over there,” you gestured to the left corner of the windowed room, where a pile of boxes waited. The move was going to take longer than you expected because the movers arrived a week later than your assistant, Rachel, said. I really need to talk to her about this. You stressed in your mind, rubbing your temples. “Are you okay?” You looked up, vision resuming its focus on your friend, Allie. Allie, your friend for as long as you could remember, offered to help you move to your new building. She would help you manage everything, including the movers, tracking your company’s items, and the layout you gave to her for said things while you managed the company. “I’m just irritated at Rachel,” you noticed her confusion, “my new assistant.” She nodded, remembering, “Right. Why is she still employed?” “Because she’s new, and being an assistant is a tough feat. She’ll get it soon.” You reassured, “Rachel is a fast learner, and this is her first mistake. We’re prepared for the next show, though, because Westley helping me organize it.” “Remind me who Westley is?” Allie asked. You sighed. “West is like my second brain. He helps organize the fashion shows, hire the models, find the venues, and secure the guest list. He has other people help him too, but he’s the brains of that. I create the fashion, and he finds a way to present it.” Allie nodded, “Gotcha.” Your phone rang, and you answered. “Y/N.” “Y/N!” Rachel chimed on the other end. “It’s Rachel. I’m so sorry about the mix-up on dates. It won’t happen again, I—” “I know it won’t, Rachel. You’re new, so I expected to slip up. I’ve gotten it taken care of,” you nudged Allie’s arm, and she smiled. “We’re luckily prepared for the next show in Vancouver, so you don’t have to worry about the mess up. All I need you to do now is make sure that my fabrics are coming in.” “Yes! They’ve arrived at the studio.” Rachel replied. “Fantastic. Thank you. That’ll be all for now. Please check on West if he needs anything.” You requested. “Will do, Y/N. Talk to you soon.” You hung up. The Vancouver show was in five months, giving you and your team enough time to design the clothes for the production and move to the new building. The show’s theme was natural bodies of water and nature, a nod to Canada’s landscape. The clothing catalogue would include various icy blue shades to represent waterfalls and warm emerald tones like flora and fauna. These colours would be encapsulated in elegant gowns and suits, worn by different shapes, genders, and colours. The materials would be made from recycled fabrics from your previous shows and from your fellow artists. You were known for designing elegant attire, so it was best to keep to it. However, it was rare to see different sized, coloured, and gendered models on a runway; because of having to customize clothes to those models. Additionally, making clothes from recycled fabrics would be tough. “Okay,” you began, “I need to talk to my design team and plan out the gowns. Can I leave you here to deal with the movers?” Allie gave you a thumbs up. “Thank you,” you smiled, hugging her, “if you need anything, please call me or Rachel, or both. We’ll be back to help.” Before you left, a thought struck you. You turned around to face Allie. “I should just hire you.” She chuckled, “Why?” You scoffed, “Because you’re here all the time!” You backed back to her. “Listen, you’re the best manager I know. You can be my third brain. You already are, outside of work, so it would make sense.” Allie seemed unsure. “I already have my job at Youth and Hope.” You grasped her hands. “You would be given a great wage, not just because you’re my best friend, but because you’re going to be busy with lots of work. You would be handling the management tasks, like West. You’d be given a good amount of vacation, trips for shows and meetings would be paid for—you could get that loft you always wanted downtown.” You wiggled your eyebrows, and Allie laughed. “Don’t I have to go through an interview process?” You brushed a hand through the air. “I can get someone to interview you and officially hire you. Once that’s done, you’ll start getting paid.” You checked your watch, and a quick rush of panic ran through you. “Shit, I’m going to be late. Consider it, alright! Let me know your availability, and we’ll schedule an interview!” “Okay!” She shouted back as you left. . . The coffee had become bitter. You weren’t sure if it was the roast or the fact that this was your fourth cup of the night. It had been a month since the fabrics arrived. Thanks to Allie, your friend and now employee, your move to the new building was complete; however, your designs weren’t translating as smoothly as you wish. “Fuck,” you cursed, taking your head in your hands and rubbing your temples. The sketches waited in front of you. The measurements and ideas raking at your confidence. Your designs are redundant. You’ve done something similar last time.                                                                       Boring. Plain. You turned back to your mannequins, still bare. The theme was in your mind, and your design team reassured you that your sketches were fine, but it all felt fuzzy. “Y/N,” Rachel peered into the studio from the door, “there’s a gentleman here to see you.” “His name?” You asked, still looking at the mannequins. You heard footsteps retreat into the front lobby, then come back to the door. “Jung Hoseok?” You turned around, trying to contain your excitement. “Please send him in.” Rachel nodded, jogging back to the lobby. You heard a muffled “thank you” before heavy footsteps approaching your studio. Hoseok reached the doorway, beaming his signature smile. He wore acid-washed jeans, a baggy white sweater that matched his chunky light sneakers. His dark hair was slightly wavy and parted in the middle. A tote bag was slung over his shoulder. “Y/N!” He cheered, opening his arms wide. “Hoseok!” You replied, running into his arms and hugging him tightly. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw Hoseok—a year or two? “Fuck, how long has it been?” You asked him. He pulled away, thinking. “About six months?” Totally off. “Seriously, it felt longer than that.” You argued. Hoseok pulled out his phone and scrolled through his calenderer and photos. He made a ‘tsk’ sound. “Ah, see here,” he showed you a few photos of you two with his friends, who were also his bandmates, “six months ago, you joined us on tour for a couple days before coming back here. I have it also marked in my calendar.” He showed you the dates, which were marked with ‘💚Y/N’s visit💚.’ “Can Namjoon or Yoongi confirm this?” You crossed your arms. Hoseok mimicked your body language. “I can call them right now,” he challenged. You two stood in competitive tension. You succumbed. “You win this time, Jung Hoseok.” He playfully chuckled. You realized that Hoseok doesn’t live around here. “Wait, why are you in town. Shouldn’t you and the others be in Korea planning another album or something?” You speculated. “Our company gave us a month for vacation because we spent most of the year touring.” Hoseok sighed. “So, I decided to come to visit.” You hugged him again, happy to see someone who wasn’t your employee amidst this chaos of stress. “How long are you staying?” You asked, muffled against his chest. He paused. “Maybe a month?” You pulled away from him, shocked. “A month? Here? That’s all your vacation time.” “Yeah,” he replied, as if that wasn’t a big deal, “I didn’t want to travel to a bunch of places because the group and I have been doing that for almost a year—and it’s pretty chill in this area.” He sighed. “Besides, I don’t think many people would recognize me. The airport wasn’t busy, and I haven’t been swarmed by fans yet.” “Do you have a place to stay?” You asked. He nodded. “Yup! I’m staying at a fancy hotel. I got the suite at the top floor,” he made a gesture with his hand, indicating how high up his suite was. You playfully elbowed his side. “Wow look at you, Mr. Famous. You can afford a top suite now. Are you sure you don’t want to stay with me, though?” Hoseok dismissed your offer with a wave of his hand. “It’s alright, Y/N. Thank you, though.” He peered over your shoulder, “It looks like you’re busy anyway, so I think I’ll just stick to my suite.” He walked past you, over to the bare mannequins. “Are you preparing for that show in Vancouver that you told me about?” You nodded, relaying your theme and ideas to him. He smiled. “That sounds really cool,” he pointed to the mannequins, “but don’t you need some clothes for the show, then?” You rolled your eyes, chuckling at him for being a smart ass. “Yes, I do. I’m brainstorming some ideas right now, but I’m coming up with nothing. I have the design team coming in tomorrow with drafts, but I’d like to bring my own thing to the table, you know? I’m the main brain of this operation, and it’d be embarrassing if I come in with zilch.” You leaned against one of the tables, facing the mannequins. “The tough part is designing gowns that fit the right people, you know. Sure, you can make a collection of clothes, but they won’t look good if they don’t fit the models.” You shook your head. “Maybe it’s just tougher to design clothes for different bodies, genders, and colours. I should just stick to one type of person and leave it at that.” Hoseok walked up beside you, leaning against the same table and facing the figures. “Why don’t you find the models and then design the clothes?” You looked at him, surprised. “But wouldn’t that take a long time?” He crossed his arms, “Well, how many models would you need?” “We’re thinking around seventy. There’s going to be two changes within the show.” Hoseok nodded, and you could see him brainstorming. “Well, you have four months left, right? You and your team can make some drafts, cast the models, and then finalize the ideas with said models. Which would take about a couple of months? You could do that while planning the show?” He paused, appearing to notice your hesitant expression. “Think about it. You’ve trained your team well enough to work on its own, right? That’s what you did for your last show, which was a success. You came in every day for a couple hours to make sure everything was in order, then focused on other things.” Hoseok grasped your hands. “You’re great at multitasking, so do it. It’s scary, but you can check on people every day to make sure everything’s alright.” You bit your lip, “I-I don’t know, Hoseok. That sounds like a lot of work—” “You did it last time, and it worked out just fine,” he gently squeezed your hands, “and I’m here for a month. I can help out whenever you need me. I’ll simply clean things up and fetch coffee if that’s what you need.” You laughed, “Like my intern?” “Yeah! I don’t know how to design anything or plan a fashion show, but I’ll do what I can.” He smiled. “You’re so much more than you think, Y/N, and if you need reminders, I’ll be here.” You smiled back at him, so grateful to have him here. “My god, you’re fucking sweet,” you scoffed, taking your hands out of his. Hoseok laughed. You pushed yourself off the table and faced him. “How did we even become friends?” You questioned. He actually gave it a thought. “You joined by dance club in elementary school, when no one else would.” He laughed so hard that he teared up. “I think we actually took club photos, and it was only you and I posing.” You laughed with him, remembering those days spent trying to breakdance to hip hop and presenting dance routines to your parents. “Yeah, that was before you joined that Music Academy in grade four, right?” He nodded, and you sighed, surprised you still remembered. Your mind came back to the present. “So, you’re actually okay with helping out?” You checked. “Why would I ask if I didn’t want to?” Hoseok replied. You tapped your index finger against your temple, “true.” “So, how much do you want?” Hoseok looked offended at your question. You chuckled. “Well, you’re going to work for me, so I need to pay you.” “It’s only just a month, though.” “Yeah, but—” “What about we see how much you have me do before you pay me?” He interrupted. “I might just have to fetch coffee, so you can just give me money on the spot.” You thought about it for a minute. Hoseok yawned. “This work talk is making me tired. Do you want to go out for dinner?” He looked around you, “Unless you have more work to do. I can always wait in the lobby for you to finish.” You brushed your hand through the air, “Nah, it’s okay. I’m pretty brain dead anyway. I need to be energized for tomorrow’s draft review.” Hoseok pushed himself off the table and clapped. “Awesome! Where do you think I’m taking you for dinner?” You bit your lip, trying to guess. “Sushi?” “Sushi it is!” He beamed. You grabbed your things and followed him out of the studio.

[jerkbitchidjitassbutt]

What If I Told You (10)

Characters: Jensen x Reader; Jared Padalecki; SPN Cast members at times.

Summary: You and Jensen have been the closest of friends for years after meeting on the set of SPN, but what will happen when you and Jensen have a kissing scene?

Series Masterlist / My Masterlist

Series Warnings: Cursing; divorce; break up; angst-ish at times, but mostly fluff. For this chapter: teeth rotting fluff.

I consider this an AU, as Jensen is divorced from an unnamed ex in this fic. This is completely a work of fiction, and I wouldn’t want his reality to be any different, this is purely for entertainment.

A/n: As @our-jensen-ackles-love​ said, “Final-fucking-ly”. 2700ish words - its a longer one.

Peering at your reflection in the antique mirror situated in the corner of your bedroom, you adjusted the hem of your dress repeatedly, nerves making your fingers twinge with anticipation. Clint had dropped you off with a promise of returning in a little over an hour, allowing you time to change and ready yourself for Rob’s party this evening. It was being held at an upscale tavern in downtown Vancouver to celebrate his birthday and return to Supernatural after a brief hiatus. Truth be told, Rob would use any excuse to throw a party, but you never minded in the slightest. The majority of the crew and cast would be there, including those who were visiting or locals to the area.

Your curls were still intact from your scenes filmed earlier in the day and it only took a small amount of convincing from you to pursue the makeup ladies to touch up what they had done instead of removing it all as they would have on any other day. You rummaged through your walk-in closet, tossing article after article of clothing until you decided on an above-the-knee navy dress; it was covered in lace, had sleeves to the elbow, and a tantalizingly low-cut v-shaped neckline. You knew everyone would be dressed to the nines and had already conversed with some of the other people from set to determine that a dress was appropriate attire. Pairing it with a pair of nude heels and clutch, it actually took you very little time to get ready, which was not only surprising, but slightly torturous. It meant you had too much time to stand and fidget, as you were doing now.

Tonight was the night you’d hopefully find out if your best friend felt the same for you as you did for him—or your friendship would never be the same. Even if the last few days hadn’t been the scenario you’d played them out to be in your mind, you knew you’d never be able to go back to thinking of him as only your friend. Pretending before was quite tranquil, a simple ignoring of feelings and thoughts, but now that those same feelings had come roaring to the surface it would be impossible to return them to their composed state.

Tonight would more than likely determine the rest of your life, in one way or another. The thought both terrified and excited you, making you want to cry and scream at the same time, but thankfully Clint saved you with a message saying he was on his way back to your apartment after changing himself. Draping yourself in your cream colored pea-coat, you retreated out your front door to meet him.

Clint was dressed in an all-black suit and black shirt, accentuating the silver in his beard.

“You clean up nice, Clint, as always.” You posed with a smile as you buckled into the passenger seat.

“So do you, kitten.” The nickname was special, and not something he gave to everyone he lended his services to. At first you found it a bit patronizing but grew to understand it as a term of endearment and now loved it.

Driving through the darkening streets lightened by the glows of downtown, you twiddled with the zipper of your clutch and felt your heart hammering in your chest.

“Y/n…” Clint’s voice boomed above the soft music playing through the speakers, “Calm down honey. You only do that when you’re nervous… and I don’t think you have anything to be nervous about.” He reassured knowingly. A bit too knowingly. Taking in your raised eyebrow, he offered quietly, “What’s said between bodyguards stays between bodyguards.”

His eyes focused back on the road and his shoulders stiffened, though a small smile played at the corners of his lips, making you smile in return.

He weaved through the urban streets towards the tavern, pulling into a parking space with perfect precision. He hopped out and rushed to your side of the vehicle, courteous enough to open your door and lend you a hand in your unsteady heels. Offering his elbow, which you graciously accepted though you towered below him by his sheer size, he walked you along the sidewalk to a large pair of deep-colored wooden doors fit with wrought iron handles. Muscling the large hunk of wood would’ve been a feat for anyone, but Clint pulled it open with a breeze, revealing a large crowd of Supernatural cast and crew members. Screams of welcome were thrown in your direction as you shrugged out of your coat and stowed your purse before you were tackled by a few, but notably Ruth, Kim, and Briana, Sam Smith not far behind. The venue was large, with high ceilings and a second floor that could be seen from the first, a dark railing lining the stairs and large overhang. Shining wood adorned almost every surface, from the bar top to the walls with splashes of silvered steel and black iron chandeliers. Soft lighting made everything sparkle, including the martini glass that was practically thrust into your hands by your friends.

You anxiously searched for Jensen, or Jared, as they would be arriving together. Neither could be found or seen, so you settled into the small group and chatted for a bit until others came to greet you. Richard hugged you and Rob gave you a peck on the cheek.

“Alright,” he said. “Who’s the first to dance with the birthday boy?”

“Ooh, me!” you grinned widely, placing your drink on the nearest corner of the bar. You do just about anything for a slight distraction from glancing toward the door every five seconds, so you hopped into Rob’s arms on the dance floor. Other members of the crew were already twirling around when Rob spun you into the open space, a giggle escaping your lips as the lines of your dress whirled around you. His arm circled your waist, pulling you close as you danced back and forth.

Sighing as you rested your head on his shoulder, you said, “This is nice. It’s been a long time since I had a handsome man twirl me around a dance floor.”

“It is a treasure.” Rob laughed gently, swaying you to the upbeat music.

You sighed once more, feeling your nerves itch even as you rocked back and forth to the beat.

Rob placed his lips closely to the shell of your ear to whisper, “Relax, Y/n. He’ll be here soon.”

You quickly pulled back, a look of surprise and shock met Rob’s eyes. The look was enough to send him into a fit of laughter, his bright smile and throaty chuckle vibrating through his arms that held you, “It’s okay, honey. I know who you’re waiting for.”

“Seriously?” you cried. “Does everyone here know something?”

“We’re not gossipers.” He reassured you, but it did little to quell the rapid beat of your heart. “Let’s just say we’ve noticed something there for a long time. Now, just dance with me.”

He pulled you back to him and lightened the mood with a joke about Rich and his directing abilities, causing you to giggle as he twirled you once more.

Jensen waltzed into the space with Jared on his tail, both dressed in blue suits. Jensen’s was a deeper, royal blue with a crisp white shirt underneath and pocket square; Jared’s a tad lighter and paired with a black button-up and tie. Cliff stood watch behind them with Clint by his side, shoulders squared as they conversed, looking like a pair of brick walls near the door.

Jensen’s eyes darted around the room quickly, searching for you, but Jared quickly distracted him with a bump of his elbow and a glass of whiskey on the rocks. As you were, they were quickly accosted by their friends, pulling them each in for a hug or a fist bump. Words were exchanged above the music and Jensen tried to concentrate, but he couldn’t keep himself from scanning the crowd, desperately seeking out your form among the bodies.

“Don’t worry, she’s here.” He heard a small voice beside him say. He looked down to see Sam next to him, his mother on the show and his friend in reality.

“Hey, pretty lady. How are you?” he smiled, hugging her into his side.

“I’m great… but get on with the real questions.” She laughed. “I know who you’re really looking for.”

Jensen wore a soft yet stunned expression as he stared down at Sam until the smile spread across his face once again, “Where is she?”

“She’s dancing with Rob. You could always cut in.” Sam grinned widely, pointing over her own glass towards the dance floor.

You were shining in the dim light of the space as your skirt and hair spun around you and your face held so much joy as you laughed in Rob’s arms. The dress you were wearing showed every curve of your body, accentuating your hips with the flare of the skirt, and the modest lace showed small amounts of skin. Jensen felt his mouth run dry at the sight.

Sam nudged him in his ribs, “Well, what are you waiting for?”

“I—I should wait.” Jensen bargained, “She’s having fun.”

This time, Sam’s nudge was a bit more than a nudge, a prod of her hand into his side made him jerk and chuckle, “Ow!” he exclaimed through his laugh.

“I’m not sure what has been keeping you two from each other for so long, but no more waiting.” She eyed him suspiciously, sensing his nerves. “Jay, you have nothing to be nervous about. I promise.” She assured him.

“Pinky swear?” he proposed.

She took his outstretched finger, before ushering him away, “Go on. Go get her.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He handed off his drink before weaving through the crowd, saying hi and chatting briefly with a few others along the way.

Rob had just slowed his pace as the music changed, the beat and melody shifting into a smoother sound. A modern version of “Can’t Help Falling in Love” flowed through the speakers, and a gentle, feminine voice filled the air.

Suddenly, a voice that caused chills up your spine sounded from beside Rob, “You tryin’ to steal my girl, Rob?”

You whirled quickly to reveal Jensen, looking stunning and wearing a dazzling smile. His hair was brushed with a part down the side and the blue of his suit made his tanned skin flush.

My girl.

The words made your insides melt as a grin fell upon your lips.

Rob looked up to him and quipped, “Wouldn’t dream of it, man.”

“Mind if I cut in?” Jensen asked with a friendly slap to Rob’s shoulder, to which he gave you a quick peck on your cheek before gesturing to his friend.

“Absolutely. I think this is a good song, anyway.” He said the last part quietly, but both you and Jensen caught it.

Sweeping you into his arms, Jensen couldn’t help but notice how perfectly you fit into the curve of his body. The height of your heels allowed you to rest your arms comfortably on his shoulders as he pulled you close and began to move to the music.

“Hi.” You said sheepishly, glancing up at him through your darkened lashes.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

The way he held you sent a shock through your body, making your skin buzz and tingle. His arm was wrapped tightly around your waist, his palm flat against your rib cage as his thumb rubbed against the fabric of your dress. His other hand held yours close to him as your chest pushed against his, leaving no space between the two of you.

Jensen dipped his head low, the scruff of his cheek tickling yours as he whispered in your ear, “I missed you.”

This is the way you should be held.

Helplessly turning to a puddle, you were thankful for his hold on you, otherwise you may have collapsed. The velvety smooth tone of his voice and those words made your knees weak. This feeling—this overwhelming sense of affection that made your heart just about stop but pound at the same time—this was something you’d never felt before. The feel of his hand in yours made your world come into focus to just one person.

Your grip tightened around his neck as you closed what little distance remained between your upper bodies, pulling him so that you could wrap your arm around his shoulders. “I missed you too.”

You danced in silence for a few more moments, thinking briefly about how much those words meant. You’d missed a feeling you’d never felt before but knew within your core that you couldn’t go one more moment without it.

When the song began to shift into another upbeat tune, Jensen regrettably pulled himself from your hold, but to your surprise, he took your hand to lead you to the staircase.

Your heels clicked against the wood as you hurried behind him, neither of you witnessing the grins and giggles that came from your friends who watched him lead you away. At the top of the stairs, he turned to a door that lead outside, opening it and motioning for you to move through with a smile. Small lights hung from a pergola that covered the entire rooftop patio that housed a few tables and chairs for the patrons, but you were drawn to the view. All of downtown Vancouver lit up the night sky, the hustle and bustle of the cars below you adding to its brightness. Stepping closer to the edge, you marveled at the sight.

A pair of strong arms slid around your midsection, the warmth from seeping beneath the fabric of your dress. Jensen’s chin came to rest on your shoulder as his hands folded in front of you, pulling you to him.

Unable to resist, you ran your hands along his forearms as they caged you, quickly threading your fingers with his. A sense of calm washed over you, but still your heartbeat paced, as if being in his arms was both tranquil and exciting.

“Wow. Its beautiful.”

Feeling the hum of vibration coarse through him, Jensen smiled, “You sure are.”

Giggling, you couldn’t help but call him out, “Cheesy, but I’ll take it.”

He quickly spun you in his arms, “I’m serious, sweetheart. You’re the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.”

He kept you in his hold with one arm but trailed the other hand up your body, running his palm against your back until it caressed up your shoulder to the base of your neck. Sliding your arms around his waist beneath his suit jacket, you reveled in the feeling.

Jensen ran his thumb against the curve of your jaw, speaking softly, “Y/n, I know we’ve been friends for a long time, and in that time, I’ve learned a lot about myself. I’ve learned what I want out of life, and it took me a while to see that what I’ve wanted has been right here the whole time. I’ve asked myself so many times if I dared to cross this line with you because I never wanted to lose you as a friend.”

Jensen’s freckles danced in the shining light from above and below as your pulse pounded and tears came to your eyes, but his hold never loosened. His hand came to cup your cheek as he continued, “I’ve asked myself so many questions, ‘How would you feel?’ ‘What would you think?’ ‘What would we do?’”

Taking a deep breath, his eyes became downcast, “We’ve both had our share of loneliness in the past, but this has always been there, beneath and beyond our relationships with other people.” When his eyes met yours once more, they were glistening like reflective pools of emerald, his face mere inches from yours. “Y/n, I think we both deserve happiness and if I found that with you, it’d be a dream come true, and I don’t think I can keep this in anymore. What if—what if I told you that—”

“I love you.” You sighed. “Jay, I’ve loved you for so long. I can’t pretend anymore…”

Your words were silenced as his lips crashed to yours.

<Series Masterlist / Part 11 (coming soon)>

A/n 2: I received an anon ask when I was looking for fic ideas(see below) for a Jensen x actress!reader fic a while ago, but recently got hit with a spark of inspiration. This is based off of the song “What if I Said” by Anita Cochran and Steve Wariner and will be a short mini-series. Also there is a wife mentioned in some parts, but I purposefully left this person nameless as to not insinuate anything for Jensen’s real life.                                                                

Anonymous said: Hi! Just saw your post about looking for fic ideas. I’ve had this idea that I really like where reader is an actor on Supernatural and is friends with Jensen. They have a scene where they have to kiss or even just have to be right up in each other’s space and it makes them realize they like each other. It’s probably a common thing to write about, but I thought I’d ask anyway. Thanks!

[beaversatemygrandma]

Oh jeez. That last uquiz I took got me thinking about somebody I haven’t thought about in a while and Wow do I miss him and the late night adventures we’d go on

Like it was a good three years ago. A guy from high school who I was maybe good acquaintances with during school. Known him since like 8th grade, friend of a friend of sorts. We connected after graduation and started hanging out a lot. Some days when he’d be free between college and work and I wasn’t working, we’d just go on long drives through the night. Started innocent enough, walking through the downtown area of the next town over, a place he found that had perfect stargazing just far enough away from the city lights, and just a great time. I never did find him conventionally attractive but my god did he speak my exact love language.

One night he called me and was like “wanna go south and visit our friend at his college half a state away with me?” Of course I said yes. Driving around with him was great, and now an 8 hour drive to go see somebody I hadn’t seen in months to go get lunch, hell yeah. We went down there, did the simple plans that only lasted a few hours, much shorter than the drive there, and headed back north. On the way home, we stopped in a couple different cities. One to get dinner, lovely pizza place in a town I had never been to. And again in Orlando. He brought me right to the Orlando Eye. A massive sight seeing Ferris wheel in the middle of the city. At the top, he asked if he could kiss me. I hadn’t thought about him in that way before but I went with it and I’m happy I did. I still have the ticket from the Orlando eye in my senior year yearbook.

The whole way up north, I sat in the middle of the bench seat of his truck just so I could still be close to him. By the time we got back into town, it was past midnight and we had floated the idea of me staying the night with him and I did. Was it a sex on the first date kind of night? Yeah. Worth it honestly. Tho I’m wondering if it was even the first date at all after all those nights spent wandering town. A great night honestly and I miss that whole weekend I spent with him.

Then around that time, I moved out of home. He did the same to be near his college campus. We floated in and out of each other’s lives for a while. Meeting up for the usual nights of wandering once a month or so and a few hookups. We never did date because of life complications. Work, college, him being a whole hour away, and both of us going through intense bouts of depression that just left us unable to fully keep in contact.

We eventually stopped talking entirely. I moved out of my apartment and got latched into taking care of my grandad while working 40+ hrs a week on top of that. He showed up once while I was there. His parents lived a street down from my grandad. And then after that, I moved in with a new bf and just left town. And now, here I am three states north and I never even told him I left.

I’m honestly thinking about reaching out again just to check in and make sure he’s still around. I never thought I’d miss him as much as i do. he was one person who helped me break off of an abusive ex and forced himself into a third wheel situation during prom just to make sure i wasn't in a bad situation with said ex. Looking back to prom nowadays, i like to think i went with him instead.

i should reach out. It’s been too long.

[arcticdementor]

I love NYC. When I first moved to NYC it was a dream come true. Every corner was like a theater production happening right in front of me. So much personality, so many stories.

Every subculture I loved was in NYC. I could play chess all day and night. I could go to comedy clubs. I could start any type of business. I could meet people. I had family, friends, opportunities. No matter what happened to me, NYC was a net I could fall back on and bounce back up.

Now it's completely dead. "But NYC always always bounces back." No. Not this time. "But NYC is the center of the financial universe. Opportunities will flourish here again." Not this time.

"NYC has experienced worse". No it hasn't.

…

Three of the most important reasons to move to NYC:

- business opportunities

- culture

- food

…

Midtown Manhattan, the center of business in NYC, is empty. Even though people can go back to work, famous office buildings like the Time Life skyscraper is still 90% empty. Businesses realized that they don't need their employees at the office.

In fact, they realize they are even more productive without everyone back to the office. The Time Life building can handle 8,000 workers. Now it maybe has 500 workers back.

…

"What do you mean?" a friend of mine said to me when I told him 'Midtown should be called 'Ghost Town', "I'm in my office right now!"

"What are you doing there?"

"Packing up," he said and laughed, "I'm shutting it down." He works in the entertainment business.

Another friend of mine works at a major investment bank as a managing director. Before the pandemic he was at the office every day, sometimes working from 6am to 10pm.

Now he lives in Phoenix, Arizona. "As of June," he told me, "I had never even been to Phoenix." And then he moved there. He does all his meetings on Zoom.

I was talking to a book editor who has been out of the city since early March. "We've been all working fine. I'm not sure why we would need to go back to the office."

One friend of mine, Derek Halpern, was convinced he'd stay. He put up a Facebook post the other day saying he might be changing his mind.

…

People say, "NYC has been through worse" or "NYC has always come back."

No and no.

First, when has NYC been through worse?

Even in the 1970s, and through the 80s, when NYC was going bankrupt, and even when it was the crime capital of the US or close to it, it was still the capital of the business world (meaning: it was the primary place young people would go to build wealth and find opportunity), it was culturally on top of its game - home to artists, theater, media, advertising, publishing, and it was probably the food capital of the US.

…

In early March, many people (not me), left NYC when they felt it would provide safety from the virus and they no longer needed to go to work and all the restaurants were closed. People figured, "I'll get out for a month or two and then come back."

They are all still gone.

And then in June, during rioting and looting a second wave of NYC-ers (this time me) left. I have kids. Nothing was wrong with the protests but I was a little nervous when I saw videos of rioters after curfew trying to break into my building.

…

…

Summary: Businesses are remote and they aren't returning to the office. And it's a death spiral: the longer offices remain empty, the longer they will remain empty.

In 2005, a hedge fund manager was visiting my office and said, "In Manhattan you practically trip over opportunities in the street."

Now the streets are empty.

…

I co-own a comedy club, Standup NY, on 78th and Broadway. I'm very very proud of the club and grateful to my fellow owners Dani Zoldan and Gabe Waldman and our manager Jon Boreamayo. It's a great club. It's been around since 1986 and before that it was a theater.

One time, Henry Winkler stopped by to come on my podcast. He was the one who told me it had been a theater.

He said, "I grew up two doors down from here and used to perform in here as a kid. Then I went out to LA to be the Fonz and now I'm back here, full circle, to be on your podcast. This place has history." Things like that happen in NYC.

…

I love the club. Before the pandemic I would perform there throughout the week in addition to many other clubs around the city and in the past few months, clubs in: Chicago, Denver, San Jose, LA, Cincinnati, all over the Netherlands, and other places.

I miss it.

…

That said, we have no idea when we will open. Nobody has any idea. And the longer we close, the less chance we will ever reopen profitably.

Broadway is closed until at least the Spring. Lincoln Center is closed. All the museums are closed.

Forget about the tens of thousands of jobs lost in these cultural centers. Forget even about the millions of dollars of tourist and tourist-generated revenues lost by the closing of these centers.

There are thousands of performers, producers, artists, and the entire ecosystem of art, theater, production, curation, that surrounds these cultural centers. People who have worked all of their lives for the right to be able to perform even once on Broadway whose lives and careers have been put on hold.

I get it. There was a pandemic.

But the question now is: what happens next? And, given the uncertainty (since there is no known answer), and given the fact that people, cities, economies, loathe uncertainty, we simply don't know the answer and that's a bad thing for New York City.

…

My favorite restaurant is closed for good. Ok, let's go to my second favorite. Closed for good. Third favorite, closed for good.

I thought the PPP was supposed to help. No? What about emergency relief? No. Stimulus checks? Unemployment? No and no. Ok, my fourth favorite, or what about that place I always ordered delivery from? No and no.

Around Late May I took walks and saw that many places were boarded up. Ok, I thought, because the protesting was leading to looting and the restaurants were protecting themselves. They'll be ok.

Looking closer I'd see the signs. For Lease. For Rent. For whatever.

Before the pandemic, the average restaurant had only 16 days of cash on hand. Some had more (McDonalds), and some had less (the local mom-and-pop Greek diner).

Yelp estimates that 60% of restaurants around the United States have closed.

My guess is more than 60% will be closed in New York City but who knows.

Someone said to me, "Well, people will want to come in now and start their own restaurants! There is less competition."

I don't think you understand how restaurants work.

…

If the restaurants are no longer clustered, fewer people go out to eat (they are on the fence about where so they elect to stay home). Restaurants breed more restaurants.

And again, what happens to all the employees who work at these restaurants? They are gone. They left New York City. Where did they go? I know a lot of people who went to Maine, Vermont, Tennessee, upstate, Indiana, etc - back to live with their parents or live with friends or live cheaper. They are gone and gone for good.

And what person wakes up today and says, "I can't wait to set up a pizza place in the location where 100,000 other pizza places just closed down." People are going to wait awhile and see. They want to make sure the virus is gone, or there's a vaccine, or there's a profitable business model.

Or...even worse.

…

If building owners and landlords lose their prime tenants (the store fronts on the bottom floor, the offices on the middle floors, the well-to-do on the top floors, etc) then they go out of business.

And what happens when they go out of business?

Nothing actually. And that's the bad news.

People who would have rented or bought say, "Hmmm, everyone is saying NYC is heading back to the 1970s, so even though prices might be 50% lower than they were a year ago, I think I will wait a bit more. Better safe than sorry!"

And then with everyone waiting... prices go down. So people see prices go down and they say, "Good thing I waited. But what happens if I wait even more!" And they wait and then prices go down more.

This is called a deflationary spiral. People wait. Prices go down. Nobody really wins. Because the landlords or owners go broke. Less money gets spent on the city. Nobody moves in so there is no motion in the markets. And people already owning in the area and can afford to hang on, have to wait longer for a return of restaurants, services, etc that they were used to.

Well, will prices go down low enough everyone buys?

Answer: Maybe. Maybe not. Some people can afford to hang on but not afford to sell. So they wait. Other people will go bankrupt and there will be litigation, which creates other problems for real estate in the area. And the big borrowers and lenders may need a bailout of some sort or face mass bankruptcy. Who knows what will happen?

…

I lived three blocks from Ground Zero on 9/11. Downtown, where I lived, was destroyed, but it came roaring back within two years. Such sadness and hardship and then quickly that area became the most attractive area in New York.

And in 2008/2009, much suffering during the Great Recession, again much hardship, but things came roaring back.

But...this time it's different. You're never supposed to say that but this time it's true. If you believe this time is no different, that NYC is resilient, etc I hope you're right.

I don't benefit from saying any of this. I love NYC. I was born there. I've lived there forever. I STILL live there. I love everything about NYC. I want 2019 back.

But this time it's different.

One reason: bandwidth.

In 2008, average bandwidth speeds were 3 megabits per second. That's not enough for a Zoom meeting with reliable video quality. Now, it's over 20 megabits per second. That's more than enough for high quality video.

There's a before and after. BEFORE: no remote work. AFTER: everyone can remote work.

…

Everyone has spent the past five months adapting to a new lifestyle. Nobody wants to fly across the country for a two hour meeting when you can do it just as well on Zoom. I can go see "live comedy" on Zoom. I can take classes from the best teachers in the world for almost free online as opposed to paying $70,000 a year for a limited number of teachers who may or may not be good.

Everyone has choices now. You can live in the music capital of Nashville, you can live in the "next Silicon Valley" of Austin. You can live in your hometown in the middle of wherever. And you can be just as productive, make the same salary, have higher quality of life with a cheaper cost to live.

…

Wait for events and conferences and even meetings and maybe even office spaces to start happening in virtual realities once everyone is spread out from midtown Manhattan to all over the country.

The quality of restaurants will start to go up in all the second and then third tier cities as talent and skill flow to the places that can quickly make use of them.

Ditto for cultural events.

And then people will ask, "wait a second - I was paying over 16% in state and city taxes and these other states and cities have little to no taxes? And I don't have to deal with all the other headaches of NYC?"

Because there are headaches in NYC. Lots of them. It's just we sweep them under the table because so much else has been good there.

NYC has a $9 billion deficit. A billion more than the Mayor thought they were going to have. How does a city pay back its debts? The main way is aid from the state. But the state deficit just went bonkers. Then is taxes. But if 900,000 estimated jobs are lost in NYC and tens of thousands of businesses, then that means less taxes unless taxes are raised.

…

What reason will people have to go back to NYC? 

[achaoticeternal]

You Still Know Me Too Well

RANSOM DRYSDALE X READER

masterlist    //   taglist

request from anon: 95,98,100 where the reader and Ransom are getting a divorce cause they both think that there is nothing left of their marriage and they think they don’t love each other anymore but one of them ( probably Ransom) can’t bring themselves to sign the papers and they end up realizing that their divorce is probably a mistake and don’t end up going through with it?

Summary: Divorce is hard, but we’re both of you that broken? Word Count: 2k A/N: Wow, I absolutely adored this prompt because weird fact, but getting a divorce is my biggest fear. Haha. I also twisted in the song “Ophelia” by The Lumineers because it just slaps so go LISTEN TO IT :)

95.  “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to see me, but I wanted to see you.” 98.  “I’ll follow you anywhere.” 100.  “Don’t you love me too?”

Ah, ah, when I was younger, ah, ah, should have known better And I can't feel no remorse, and you don't feel nothing back

Three years. You have been Mrs. Drysdale for the past three years, but looking down at the paper that now held your signature, that name would change soon.

It was moments like this when the penthouse felt cold and lonely. Moments like this when Ransom’s words seemed to each off the wall.

“I’ll follow you anywhere.”

 It was the last sentence of his vows. But now where was he? Vacant of the penthouse where only you and two cats remained. It felt like he was here though, his warm physical form wasn’t. The idea of Ransom lingered, the idea of having a possible family, the idea of settling down to be outside the presses, the idea of selling the penthouse and his home in Boston and buying a big family home in Virginia, the idea of sharing a fulfilled life together. 

But none of that was happening. Neither of you could escape the public eye while you remained a big-name actress in the New York Theatre community and rumors continuously spreading about his family and their way of living. It came to the point where you were both in orbit of each other, but never around each other long enough to matter.

You couldn’t regret this decision. You couldn’t live this was the rest of your days. You need your husband, but you never knew if he quite needed you.  

Oh, Ophelia, you've been on my mind girl since the flood Oh, Ophelia, heaven help a fool who falls in love

You requested the next week and a half off, having your understudy filling your role for the next five performances. It just happened that Ransom hadn’t been responding to the lawyers, so you needed to pay him a little visit down in Boston.

The drive to the house in the suburbs of Boston wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t the most pleasant either. Traffic was always crazy though. However, you didn’t expect the drive to feel like a visit down memory lane and everything the flooded your mind, like the day Ransom asked if you would move in with him. Or the time you both got snowed into the house and couldn’t even open the front door. Or the engagement party at your favorite Italian bistro in the downtown area.

You approached the front door and knocked. Then waited, for about 45 seconds. And knocked again. Then waited, for a full minute. You raised your fist again to reveal your husba- Ransom.

“Don’t you have anything better to do then throw stupid sales pitches at,” Ransom stopped his complaining when his eyes finally met yours, “(Y/N)- I... Shouldn’t you be at mic-check or doing some show preparation right now?”

“I took the weekend off, Ransom. I just needed a little weekend getaway. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to see me, but I wanted to see you.” You flustered, pulling your coat in a little tighter, “Can I come in?”

He opened the door a little wider and stepped back as to allow you in, “Of course, this is still your home.”

It had been months since you had stepped into this place, and longer since you stayed the night. Most of the meeting in regards to the divorce was either in New York or over Skype. But looking at the walls you knew so well, it felt like a breath of fresh air.

“You’re probably wondering while I’m here.”

“A little, but more shocked to you you without any lawyers involved or anyone trying to get our attention,” he walked over to his minibar and poured himself a bourbon, “You want anything? A red? I might have your favorite sitting he- ah yes. Merlot, aged 8 years.”

“You always knew me a little too well.”

“Of course, that’s why I know you're here in regards to the papers,” Ransom poured your glass and handed it to you.

“Thank you,” You relaxed a little bit, “Well yes, but I also- I needed to see you. I needed to know that you’ve been doing okay because I can never read you with other people around.”

“Well, I haven’t told the family.”

“And you completely don’t have to. That’s why we had two receptions.”

“Tomorrow is Harlan’s birthday. Eighty-five and still writing those damn novels. I’m sorry about the papers, I’ve been trying to get other things to fall into place that it just slips my mind.”

“Well, maybe with me here it won’t slip your mind. How about we visit your grandfather tomorrow? We don’t have to say or do anything to your family, but I feel Harlan should know, all things considered.”

Ransom let out a sigh, then shook his head, looking down chuckling, “as much as I disdain that cynical old man, you do have a point, as usual.”

Ah, Ah, got a little paycheck, you got big plans and you gotta move And I don't feel nothing at all And you can't feel nothing small

The night of Harlan’s party seemed to approach quickly. Honestly, you were terribly nervous because this would be your last interaction with the family as Mrs. Drysdale. This feeling wasn’t as freeing as you hoped it would be. Since Ranson and you started to divorce process, the whole thing seemed like a load of bricks on top of you instead of that feeling of freedom. 

Ransom and you had opted to take separate cars, yet arrive at the same time so that no one grew too suspicious. It would be the first time you had seen him after breakfast that morning where he couldn’t seem to touch you or look at you. 

You approached Ransom who wore a maroon cardigan, a white shirt tucked into black jeans, and high-end black ankle boots. You wore a white silk button-up blouse tucked into a pair of navy pants that flared out at the bottom with a brown belt around your waist. 

When Ransom caught a glimpse at you, you thought you saw a flash of endearment flash through his blue eyes. Maybe it was just de ja vu. 

“You could dress in rags and look better than anyone in this house, even this city, but you always have to take everyone’s breath away,” Ransom smirked as he held out his hand to you.

“You always had a way with your words, Ransom,” you took his hand and allowed him to lead you into the house.

Quickly both of you had a glass of champagne and interacted with friends and family of Harlan Thrombey whilst the birthday boy talked with his youngest son, Walt. Ransom held you close by his side, even keeping a hand on your hip as you talked with other authors who also wrote mystery novels. For a moment, it felt like you were back where you were supposed to be. You felt at home as you rested your head on the space between his shoulder and chest. 

Sometimes you both were so good at fooling others that you could fool yourselves. 

After a wonderful dinner, you and Ransom sat infront of Harlan and his desk within his office. Door shut. We didn’t need any other Thrombey’s or publicity attempting to get some good details.

“Happy Birthday, Harlan,” you took his hand in your own and smiled at the old man. It hurt to deliver this awful news.

“Thank you, my dear,” He smiled kindly back at him, “You’ve been good to my grandson, to my family. It hurts to feel like the pair of you need to put up a facade.”

“Well, Harlan,” Ransom sighed and shook his head, “I hate to bear bad news, again”

The air went cold and everything was silent. Neither you nor Ransom wanted to say it. It felt like you were waiting for a bomb to explode.

“The pair of you are on a break,” Harlan spoke, “It was easy for me to tell. But I ask both of you to consider where it began.”

You looked up into Harlan’s eyes, seeing if you could find some clarity or maybe forgiveness for hurting his heart. But you saw the same shade of blue that were Ransom’s eyes, asking for you to think through your decisions before it was too late.

“Might I speak to my grandson alone, Mrs. (Y’N)?”

“Of course, sir. I’ll be in the other room,” You made your way out of the office, turning back to meet Ransom’s eyes. They held to same hurt the night you said you weren’t coming home for Thanksgiving and were filing the papers but also held to same love he had for you on your honeymoon. 

You continued into the night with a glass of champagne and speaking with Joni about luxury cosmetics and skincare. She babbled about her “best-selling’ line of skincare tailored for women approaching their golden years. Somewhere along with the conversation though, you heard Ransom yelling and two doors slamming.

You made your way into the entrance hall promptly to find what the commotion was, but all you found is that you had been stranded by Ransom.

Honey, I love you, that's all she wrote

You opened the door of the house to find the clear image of Ransom on the couch with a bottle of brandy. As you approached the living, you head the music of the cellos echoing out of his vintage record player filling the house. On the coffee table in front of him were the divorce papers, lacking only his signature.

“I do this at least once a week,” Ransom spoke up, “I think about what I could’ve done better, how to be a better person for you, and all that sappy shit I’ve always hated. Because I hate losing you. Because it’s always you. Because I love you”

“Ransom, you’ve been drinking. I’ve been drinking. You’re still drinking,” you shook your head, wanting to end whatever he was going to start, “let’s just go to bed.”

“I haven’t been able to sleep in that bed. It’s too cold knowing that I have no one to hold on to or wait for anymore. Why did we buy such a big bed?”

“Because you hated the way my cold feet felt against your legs in the middle of the night,” you chuckled to yourself.

Silence fell over the two of you and just seemed to linger. An eternity passed before Ransom took another swig from the bottle.

“I’m sorry to hold out for so long. I really thought if I waited it out, I could get my way. I’ll sign them if you really want me too. But I just want one thing,” He looked into your eyes, “I just need you to answer one question. You don’t have to tell me the answer.”

He took in a shallow breath, looking quickly at the papers then back to you.

“Don’t you love me too?”

He set down the bottle on the coffee table, then proceed to slink upstairs to the bedroom. You watched him, letting his words weigh down on you more with each step.

You moved to sit on the couch yourself, looking over what was left of the evening; a bottle of brandy, the divorce papers, a black pen, and a notepad with ways Ransom could try and earn you back. You took a page out of the notepad and inscribed it with four words. Honey, I love you.

Oh, Ophelia, you've been on my mind girl like a drug Oh, Ophelia, heaven help a fool who falls in love

It’s been 4 months since the day Ransom and you decided to cancel the divorce. Sometimes, you have to evaluate what you want in life. For the pair of you, you needed each other. 

Ransom and you decided to stay in Boston till next summer when you both would move to England so that you could start your run on the West End Theatre Wing and he could get some new surroundings to begin his writing career, a little secret between the two of you.

As it turns out, Harlan’s advice to remember the beginning was exactly what you needed to remember a time where Ransom was your finishing puzzle piece. And everyday you both seemed to fall a little more in love with each other, like fools.

[thebiasrekkers]

Make It Right [BTS Mafia!AU]

Plot: “It’s always darkest before the dawn…” It’s a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: Series | Mafia!AU | Crime!AU | Angst | Romance/Fluff | Smut

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Heavy Language, Angst, Slow Burn, Smut

Previous Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || Admin E’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 3,006

Tag List: @prisczero​, @pinkpjmin​, @btsaudge​, @flowerwrites06​, @unoriginal-username15432, @halussali​

Chapter 39: Not Today

“Today we’ll never die. The light will pierce through the darkness.”

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Seoul – Myeongdong; Jung District South Korea

It was the calm before the storm.

Hoseok could feel it in his bones to the point where he swore that they creaked with each step he took. He barely heard what Namjoon was telling him as they approached the large building in downtown Myeongdong. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince him to change his mind; to postpone this meeting for another day. Or if it was something else entirely. Hoseok was only vaguely aware of the noises on the streets as they passed pedestrians on the path to their destination.

There was too much simmering beneath the surface for him to focus on anything outside of reaching his destination.

When he’d received the call from Taehyung a couple of days ago, Hoseok knew it was time for him to make his move. Yoongi falling ill and being hospitalized, even for a day, should have been the metaphorical straw that broke the camel’s back. Truth be told, Hoseok was in and out of meetings for most of the days during the week and had little time to spare outside of his business practices. Things were starting to look good. Things were finally beginning to take a positive turn, just as they planned.

Even with the instances that the Jade Fangs did show up, they were minor inconveniences at most. Hoseok was made aware of the slight against Eden, Jungkook’s girlfriend. He offered to have her monitored, but at Jungkook’s behest, he didn’t follow through. Eden was apparently a woman who valued her personal life and her privacy. The last thing she wanted was anyone shadowing her unnecessarily, even if it was for her own protection. From what he was told, Eden was also a woman who could more than handle herself if it came to a rough and tumble fight.

Hoseok did not pull his eyes back from Raelyn, even if she was seeing Taehyung now. There was always the chance that something could happen and at a moment when everyone least expected it. If she were ever made aware of it, he would apologize for it later. In this case, it was better to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission.

Old habits die hard, as they say…

Feet shuffled to a halt as he stood in front of the large building, Namjoon at his side. The two of them looked up at the high-rise, the sun already sinking beyond the horizon and down below the tree lines. The twilight hour was upon them and the world was still just as busy buzzing with life. As it would continue to do for many days to come.

Clearing his throat, he began to move forward – approaching the sliding glass doors. “Let’s go,” he said just as the doors opened to grant them entrance.

Two security guards approached them from either side, causing the two men to stop in the main lobby. Hoseok lofted a brow at each of them and Namjoon shuffled just a little bit closer to him. His tan trench coat hung off his shoulders while he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his pin-striped slacks. Lifting one hand from the pocket, he undid the button on the matching suit jacket as he slid his aviators off his face.

“Im Changkyun is expecting me,” came his even reply as he put the shades into the inner pocket of his jacket, “so be good boys and step aside.”

Hoseok didn’t bother hiding his irritation. He wanted it known that this wasn’t some pleasant little business meeting or a check-in visit. This was nothing of the sort.

This…was personal.

A phone rang at the secretary’s desk, snapping her out of her momentary trance at the small incident that was stirring in the lobby. The two security guards continued to block Hoseok’s path, but then the woman quickly stood from her seat and bowed before hanging up the phone. She clapped her hands to get the guards’ attention.

“Chairman Im said to let them through.”

The guards stood there a little while longer before finally stepping to the side, giving both Hoseok and Namjoon a clear path. They approached the desk where the young woman handed Hoseok a keycard. She bowed in apologies before pointing to the corridor off to the right.

“If you take that hallway, there are sets of elevators. The key card will give you access to the Chairman’s office on the top floor.”

Hoseok flashed her a polite grin, waving the card at her clamped between his fingers. “Thank you.”

And without so much as a second glance, he began heading toward the hallway. Namjoon followed behind him, making sure that the two security guards weren’t intent on doing something stupid. Hoseok didn’t see his friend visibly relax until they were alone in the elevator.

He slid the keycard through the card reader, waiting for the elevator to begin lifting them from the ground floor. When it jerked slightly upon its initial ascent was when Namjoon finally spoke.

“Hoseok-ah? Do you think—”

“Don’t, Namjoon-ah,” he interrupted, staring ahead at their muddied reflections on the elevator’s stainless-steel doors, “not now.”

“We didn’t even discuss this with the others.”

There was concern in Namjoon’s voice, which was well-warranted. It was rare for Hoseok to go rogue. When he did, it was usually something small. He never made moves like this without discussing it with the others first. Seokjin always made it a point to ensure that everyone was on the same page so that none of them could get blind-sided. Strategizing and prioritizing situations before others was what helped the Golden Jackals climb up the ladder of success so quickly. Impulsivity had no place in their lives back then and it shouldn’t have now.

However, this time, Hoseok wanted to be selfish. He’d earned the right to be selfish. He deserved and had every right to be as livid as he was at that moment. Anyone who tried to tell him otherwise was delusional.

“This doesn’t concern them right now.” He cast a sidelong glance to Namjoon, brows furrowing deeply. “Honestly, I don’t even like that you’re with me. You should have stayed in the car like I told you to.”

Namjoon blinked at him, clearly jarred by his words. Or that he’d suddenly grown a second head. “You thought you’d just waltz into Im Changkyun’s business office alone, huh?” He snorted. “Yeah, no. Jin Hyung would have my head and I’m a pretty big fan of it staying attached to my neck.”

Hoseok grinned. “That’s not like you, Namjoon-ah. You’re usually the first one to show your guts.”

“Yeah, well that was then. This is now.”

The elevator dinged softly as they reached their destination. The steel doors slid open slowly, revealing a long hallway with a black and red carpet leading from the elevator to a pair of double doors at the very end of the long stretch. There was someone standing just outside the door, but they were too far away to be made out easily.

Hoseok stepped out and strode forward, Namjoon matching his pace. The closer they got to the end of the hallway, the more the person’s face standing just outside the door came into view. When they were only a couple of yards away, they could now tell it was Shownu. He looked between the two of them, a satisfied smirk etching his features. Hoseok peered up at the man who was older and slightly taller than him. His image from five years ago overlapped his current one and a phantom ache throbbed at Hoseok’s side from when he’d been kicked by the man in the rainstorm.

Shownu politely stood away from the door, gesturing toward it. “He’s waiting for you, Jung Hoseok.”

He nodded, casting his gaze over toward Namjoon. “Wait here.”

Namjoon looked like he was about to protest, but then Shownu placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Let’s get a drink, hm? I’m sure they’re going to have a lot to discuss.”

Again, Namjoon looked reticent. But Hoseok nodded, his earlier expression dissolving into a softer one. He saw his friend blink in surprise. He could only imagine what his face looked like, but it probably reflected an old version of himself he hadn’t shown in quite some time. After a moment, he watched Namjoon sigh before nodding.

“If you need anything, call me.”

Hoseok nodded again. “I will.”

He waited, watching the two men make their way back down the hall. Shownu turned off to the left, entering a room and Namjoon followed. But not before he met his gaze one more time. Hoseok took a breath, promising to apologize to Namjoon later, and opened the doors.

The interior of the office was what Hoseok would have expected. Pristine. Clean. Modern. There was the traditional name plate sitting on top of a black polished desk made of expensive and imported wood. The marbling on the floor was flawless and the furniture held a business design with sectionals surrounding a glass and metal coffee table. Elegant art pieces decorated the walls and off to the right was a large window that overlooked the entire downtown area of Myeongdong from hundreds of feet in the air. A wet bar was situated near the small nook near the back.

Hoseok wasn’t impressed, however. This was to be expected of Im Changkyun, the Wolf of the Jade Fangs. He hadn’t climbed up in the ranks and obtained his title of “leader” if he wasn’t capable of this level of eloquence and prestige. His ambition suited his taste in decorating.

Instead of stepping further inside, he remained near the entrance as the doors closed behind him. Changkyun was seated at his desk, immersed in a book of some sort. The computer monitor was situated, visually, to Hoseok’s right. When their eyes met, Hoseok didn’t smile even though Changkyun did.

“Oh, Hoseok Hyung,” he said, closing the book and sliding it just to the side of him, “welcome. I’ll admit, I was a little surprised when I received your call. It’s not often you take the time to come visit me.”

Hoseok heard the bitter edge to the statement but made no effort to acknowledge it. He gave a slight shrug, remaining where he was until he saw Changkyun slowly rising from his plush leather chair. The wheels shifted along the marble floor and it was in that moment that Hoseok reached behind him to turn the deadbolt on the door – synchronizing it to match the sound of the chair’s movements.

“Your boys have been paying mine little visits here and there,” he said, stepping away from the door, “I figured that I should return the favor.”

Changkyun flashed an open-mouthed grin. “Ah, yes. Yes, they have.” He reached up to brush his dark hair out of his eyes. “Is that the reason for this, Hyung? Are the boys getting in your way?”

Hoseok scoffed. “Hardly.”

“Hmm, well that’s no good. I was hoping that was why.”

Slowly, Hoseok made his way to the left of the sectionals in the center of the office. “Because?”

“Because I’m still trying to figure you out, Hyung. I have questions and you haven’t answered them all yet.”

Changkyun’s words didn’t match his expression. Instead of looking inquisitive, he had the look of a man who appeared to have already won the game. It was a look that Hoseok remembered from many years ago – before the Golden Jackals were formed. Before they truly began to understand what the criminal underworld really looked like.

Before Im Changkyun killed the previous leader of the Jade Fangs in cold blood.

“Then let me give them to you.”

Hoseok’s body moved in a blur – matching the speed of his youth which was fueled by his anger alone. He knew he wasn’t in his twenties anymore. He hadn’t been fighting every day like he had years ago when his brothers and he first arrived in Seoul. Their lives were harder, but they were much simpler back then. When they were happier and driven to reach a future they could all obtain together.

He tapped into that feeling and rushed Changkyun’s desk – his trench coat flying off his shoulders and landing on the ground just as he went airborne. Just like that rainy night five years ago, during the gang war on the streets of Gangnam, he watched Changkyun’s smug look melt away as sudden realization washed over him instead. Hoseok cleared the chair at the head of the coffee table and landed on Changkyun’s desk in a crouch.

Jerking his right arm, the switch blade slid from the sleeve of his jacket and landed in his hand. He flicked the blade free, aiming straight for Changkyun’s neck. However, he knew that this wouldn’t be enough for the leader of the Jade Fangs. There was a reason he’d earned the nickname Wolf all those years ago. And it was because of his primal instincts.

Those very instincts came into play as he reached up to catch Hoseok’s wrist. Changkyun tried to pull his arm away from his body, attempting to keep the blade as far from his neck as possible. But just like Changkyun earned his moniker, so had Hoseok. The Death Claw didn’t back down from a fight because he’d looked The Grim Reaper in his face and spit in it.

Hoseok used his free hand to grab at his wrist, fingers locking over Changkyun’s and then pushing his weight forward. What distance was gained was soon minimized as Hoseok leaned in, the tip of the knife moving up and casting a shadow over Changkyun’s face. If he wouldn’t let him take his throat, he would jam the blade straight into his eye socket.

“H-Hyung,” growled Changkyun through clenched teeth as he glared up at Hoseok, “what do you think you’re doing?”

He could feel his arms trembling with the amount of force he was exerting. Changkyun was putting in just as much effort, causing a horrible stalemate that was on the verge of fracturing. The odds evened out as Hoseok watched him reaching up with his free hand to brace against his own wrist – mimicking each other.

“What does it look like?” Hoseok replied, his eyes narrowing darkly, “I’m answering your questions.”

He watched him blinking up at him in confusion. He was a young man Hoseok once believed to be full of potential and drive. Someone Hoseok admired years ago. Before he discovered the depth of his said ambition.

Silence stretched between them, neither of them easing off their stance or their grips. Hoseok felt a bead of sweat slip down his temple just as he saw one sliding down to drip from Changkyun’s chin. There were the occasional grunting sounds as one attempted to overpower the other, but outside of that, no words were spoken.

Changkyun finally let out a choked-out scoff, bitter disappointment evident on his features. Yet he smirked, regardless. “So, this is your answer, Hyung?”

Hoseok mirrored his gaze. “Yes, Changkyun-ah, it is.”

Something passed over the younger man’s face. But it was so brief, Hoseok couldn’t place it. At least not then.

“That’s a shame, Hoseok Hyung. A real shame.” He let out a shaky breath. “But if this is your answer, then I guess I have no choice but to continue the game without you.”

And then he moved faster than Hoseok could have anticipated. He released his hold and Hoseok felt all his weight collapsing forward. The blade nicked Changkyun’s cheek, but it was a sacrifice he willingly made. Hoseok realized this when he saw knuckles sailing toward his face. He pivoted in mid-air, changing his trajectory and his shoulder landed hard on the desk. Changkyun moved to elbow-drop him, but Hoseok whirled his legs into the air to block the assault, slamming his knee into Changkyun’s shoulder before rolling completely off the desk.

However, as he landed on the marble flooring, he felt pain exploding across his back and causing him to stumble forward. He quickly pivoted on his heels just as he saw Changkyun lowering his arm from where he’d had it extended – noting that his punch had, in fact, successfully connected. The two of them heaved, inhaling a lungful of air. Hoseok reached up to dab at the sweat on his brow with the back of his wrist.

A full minute passed before both men lowered their stances, silently agreeing that this discussion was at its conclusion. Hoseok turned to head toward the entrance, scooping up his trench coat along the way. Just as he made to unlatch the doors to the office, he heard Changkyun popping his neck before a breathy chuckle escaped.

“You’ve made yourself clear. So now I’m going to make myself clear.”

Pausing, Hoseok turned to look back at the leader of the Jade Fangs. But he chose to say nothing. Changkyun continued.

“What I do from this moment on, you no longer play a factor into it. What happens after today is a result of the answer you’ve given me. And I’m going to make good on it.”

Hoseok scoffed. “Is that right?” He rolled his eyes, unlatching the door. “We’re done playing this game with you. Do what you want.”

The grin that Changkyun gave him was the most wolfish he’d ever seen and it caused his spine to lock up uncomfortably, even for just a moment.

“Oh, I will. Trust me.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Just remember that it’s nothing personal, Jung Hoseok.”

Dropping the honorific was expected. Hoseok wasn’t surprised. So, instead of giving it credence, he simply exited the office and slammed the doors behind him. He needed to breathe. He needed air. So, for now, he would simply text Namjoon to come out when he was ready and that he’d be waiting in the car.

After he vomited his anger into a nearby bush somewhere.