#eventually since this is only chapter 1 haha | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

emisprocrastinatingbywriting · 6 months ago

Text

To Break Free

Summary:

After a lifetime in the big city and a brutal break up, you decided it was time for a change. Austin was everything you expected it to be; quiet, warm, and totally different from the fast paced environment you were used to, but what you hadn’t expected was the particularly handsome stranger that lived across the street to catch you in a compromising position. Although you had hoped to put the experience behind you, the spark between the two of you was hard to ignore, especially when his two teenage daughters quickly became regular guests in your home. After years of heartache, will you be able to keep a kind and devoted man like Joel Miller at arm’s length?

Warnings: NoOutbreak!Joel Miller, Sarah and Ellie as siblings, Neighbour!Joel, The Miller Girls Being wingmen, Reader is just getting over a break up, Mentions of Reader's Shitty Ex, Soft!Joel, Protective!Joel, Eventual Smut, Eventual Fluff, Angst, Eventual Romance.

A/N:

Hey y'all, my name is Em and if you haven't read anything I have posted before, welcome! <3

This fic includes NoOutbreak!Joel as a single dad to two teenage girls, living in Austin when reader moves across the street. This is going to be a fluffy fic, not necessarily a slow burn but it will have all the angst you need to yearn for the handsome Texan. Reader is in her early 30s, while Joel is in his mid 30s. She is just getting out of a marriage that was undoubtedly emotionally abusive, so there will be brief mentions of that throughout the story. I will be sure to leave a note at the beginning of the chapter in case any of you wish to avoid it. Anyways, I love writing for fun and I hope you enjoy the result of that haha. Enjoy! :)

Chapter 1/10 - More to Come!

Chapter 1: Don't Be Ridiculous

Sweat poured down your face, stinging your eyes as box after box got loaded into the bare bones of what would be your new life. This was not how you expected your thirtieth birthday to go, trying to ignore the resentment that clogged the valves of your heart as you tried not to collapse under the Texas heat. It only made you hate the man you had once called your husband all the more. Every twinge in your back from a particularly hefty box, or momentary pause to catch your breath, all brought you back to him.

Two months ago, after an entire year of couples counseling sessions where you were forced to put on a brave face while he practically dozed off, after a year of scheduled date nights where he dragged you around the city like a some sort of prized hog, you had found him in bed with one of his research assistants. You gagged thinking about it, shaking your head as you slammed yet another unreasonably heavy box down on the living room floor. The hot shot professor banging his pretty research assistant was so cliche and yet, you had fallen for every lame excuse he had given for six years. That is, until the truth of your unholy union had smacked you dead in the face. It made you want to scream, especially since you had been that same research assistant once upon a time but stupidly, you had assumed that what the two of you had was different.

Which led you to the place you were, in the first reasonably affordable home you could find on such short notice, lugging all of your worldly possessions in by yourself because the person you had given up everything for had turned out to be a stranger. Betrayal had been coiled around you for two months after the grand reveal, imprisoning you in the carcass of a marriage way past its expiration date. For two months you had stayed silent, shocked into a void by the audacity of your ex as he begged you to stay, but it had all come to head after you found the messages that proved he was still seeing the other woman.

To call her a woman was generous. She was barely an adult really, twenty years old and filled with so much hope, just like you had been when you met him in an intro course during your first year of undergrad. It broke your heart to see the same lines being used on yet another fresh face and finally, a lightbulb had gone off in your head. A week after finding the messages, while he was at work, you vanished without a trace. Austin held the only home you could actually afford without his help, so Austin would be your new start.

“Fuck me,” you groaned, dropping the final box in the entryway in lieu of dragging it all the way to the kitchen.

With heavy limbs, you wandered over to the couch that you had almost dislocated a shoulder trying to shove in through the front door and plopped down on it with a grunt. There was still the bed and a couple other big things left in the moving truck but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. After a morning filled with nothing but emotionally draining goodbyes to the city you once loved and the beautiful apartment that had served you since grad school, followed shortly by the workout of a lifetime, you were wiped. Plus, there was much else left to do, like setting up the AC and grabbing one of the beers you had shoved in the fridge upon arrival. You could practically taste the ice cold Coors Banquets and feel the frigid air sputtering out of the air conditioner that you hadn’t used since undergrad, but you remained glued to the couch.

The weight of the day came down hard, pressing you into the soft cushions until you were sure that your body would become fused to them. It was like you were trapped, shackled to the seat with nowhere to go but further down. No matter how hard you tried, your limbs refused to cooperate and so you sat, admiring the first space you could truly call your own. As the sun filtered in through the big bay windows, illuminating the tiny home in a warm glow, you supposed there were worse places to be trapped. All in all, the house itself wasn’t all that bad. Sure, it had some years on it, but with a few fresh coats of paint and some much needed updates to the appliances, you were sure that it would do just fine.

The big windows along the front of the house called to you through the ugly wallpaper and carpeted staircase when you saw it online, along with the hardwood floors that only needed one good scrub before they gleamed once more. The apron front sink in the kitchen, the clawfoot tub in the bathroom attached to the master suite, the built-in shelves in the living room where you could imagine organizing all of your many books, they all spoke of a life worth living, a life where he wasn’t around to ruin it. You could make this work, you had to. If anything, just to prove him and everyone else in your former life wrong.

“Uh - Hiya,” came from the front door, snapping you out of the pit of loathing you were so prone to these days.

The voice was light and sweet, the sound of it caressing your ear drums as you turned to examine its owner. The girl it came from was young, probably somewhere in her early teens if you had to guess, with beautiful bouncing curls and big eyes that reminded you of a puppy dog. She smiled brightly as you muscled through the pain to stand, taking that as her cue to dart into the house.

“Um, hey there,” you chuckled awkwardly, unused to being in the presence of teenagers outside of working hours.

“You must be new! Well, I mean obviously, you’re not Mrs. Thompson. She was like a hundred years old or something,” the stranger chirped, her curls lightly bouncing as she spoke.

“Yeah uh, I think she went to live with her son in Boston. She gave me a good price, so everyone wins I guess,” you said, wincing at how boring you probably sounded to the young girl.

“That’s great!,” she smiled, the sincerity nearly knocking you off balance, “Anyways, Ellie said she watched you move in today all by yourself. Ugh, don’t worry, I already gave her hell for not helping, she’s always hanging out with her girlfriend. But I felt bad, so I made you these.”

A tin container was thrust into your face, the faded faces of Sesame Street characters on the side of it making you cock an eyebrow at her. With a hesitant smile, you took the box. Peeling the lid back, the pile of chocolate chip cookies that greeted you made your throat grow tight. Not one happy birthday had been sent your way, much less any sort of treat. Looking down at them, your stomach rumbled, a ferocious sound that made you bypass all social niceties and cram one of the chocolatey treats into your mouth before the organ caved in on itself.

“Jesus Christ, that’s fucking good,” you moaned, closing your eyes to fully savour the taste.

It was only when you opened them that you were reminded of the child that stood in front of you.

“Oh don’t worry about it” she giggled, waving off the panic that undoubtedly spread across your face, “Dad is in construction. I’ve heard him and Uncle Tommy say way worse than that.”

“I bet,” you laughed, shaking your head as you put the container down.

“I’m Sarah by the way, I live over there,” Sarah said, pointing towards the home across the street that seemed to radiate the same warmth that she did.

There were two kinds of people that owned a home like that; the kind that paid someone to meticulously craft it and got mad at anyone in the neighbourhood who seemed bad for their brand, or the kind that simply enjoyed the art of architecture and wanted their home to reflect it. With how much TLC your well loved bungalow was in need of, along with the measly salary you were about to be making at the local library, you hoped like hell that Sarah’s parents were the latter. The last thing you needed was a member of the PTA banging down your door because the bushes weren’t trimmed to perfection.

“It’s nice, your parents have really good taste,” you said, admiring the stone pathway.

“Oh no, that’s actually all dad. He owns a contracting business. Pretty boring stuff really, but it means me and Ellie get to order take out whenever he has to stay late at the jobsite,” she said mischievously, making you grin in return.

Sarah had a way about her, a magnitude that came from being the purest form of extrovert. It made you wonder about the rest of her family. With most of the hyenas that you had once called your friends miles away, you hoped her parents were as friendly as their chatty daughter. The thought of having another grown up to talk to, one that didn’t expect anything from you other than a glass of wine and laughter, was incredibly attractive. Maybe her mom had a group of girlfriends she could introduce you to, perhaps even a book club that had room for one more. You sighed, a girl could dream.

“So, what about you newbie? What’s your story?,” she asked.

Loosened up by the sweet treat, you found yourself telling Sarah your name, some censored details of your past life, your future gig at the library, and even the fact that it was your birthday. In return, you listened as the teen chirped excitedly about her favourite books and even agreed to help her find a few things in the stacks once you got your bearings. The conversation was nice, uncomplicated and cheerful, making you completely forget about the disaster that surrounded you.

For weeks, all of the people in your life had hung you out to dry. The men who were likely cheating on their own beautiful brides scoffed at what they thought to be a theatrical reaction to your ex’s betrayal, while their polished wives asked through thinly veiled humor if you actually thought you could do any better than him. And the worst part was that you had started to believe them, entertaining the idea that maybe they were right, maybe all you were meant to be was a pretty face for him to drag to stuffy parties or university sponsored fundraisers. After all, you were nothing but a stray that he had picked up along the way. And him? Well, he had always held all of the power. But in that moment, in your own home with a bubbly teen chattering about the joys of YA novels, you finally felt like you could breathe again.

“I don’t want to talk your ear off when you clearly have some stuff to unpack, but maybe later tonight you could come over for supper? My dad always makes way too much and Ellie is probably out with Riley, so…,” Sarah trailed off, looking up at you with her best puppy dog eyes.

“Ah well, as much as I’d like to, I really need to hose this stench off and I’ve still got a couple heavier things in the back of the truck that need to come in before it gets dark. How about next time?,” you tried.

Sarah smiled at that, nodding excitedly despite the rejection. Although you were curious about her proposal, there was no universe where you would accept a dinner invitation from a random child. No matter how cool her parents might be, you were pretty sure it would be weird for their teenager to come home with a random woman in tow. What would you even say to her father? Her mother? You could practically see them in all of their middle-class American glory, the father pot bellied and wary of any woman who was educated, and the docile wife that had settled for him once those dreaded blue lines had shown up. There was no way you were going to sit through a dinner with the embodiment of your living nightmare for anyone, much less a teenager you barely knew. Although, her enthusiasm did make you hesitate.

“Of course! Go! Take your shower and let me worry about the rest,” Sarah exclaimed, practically bouncing out the door with a cheeky grin.

“What? Wait! What do you mean you’ll ‘worry about the rest’?!,” you called after her, but she was already out the door.

Weird, you thought, shrugging it off as you turned back towards the disaster spread across your home. It would take hours to unpack it all and with the bigger things still loaded into the truck, you decided that there was no use in worrying about making the place look homey quite yet. What needed to be addressed immediately was the acrid stench wafting from your pores. It was as if the last few years of your life were literally oozing out into the tiny space, the move itself cleansing you of the toxins that had been building up for far too long.

Sighing, you dragged yourself up the stairs and into the ensuite, thanking the heavens that you had thought to label the boxes so that you didn’t have to pilfer through the mess for a towel. After finding the expensive shampoo and conditioner that you had swiped during the escape, you turned the valve as cold as it would go and stepped in. The frigid stream rained down on you, banishing every thought from your mind as all of your muscles tensed in displeasure. Goosebumps erupted all over, your nipples hardening up so fast that you were sure they could cut through glass, but you powered through it. The cold water was as invigorating as it was uncomfortable and you wanted to revel in it for as long as possible.

However, just as you had finished going through all of your hair care and scrubbing down your body for a third time, you heard it. The sound was small, so small that you might’ve ignored it if you were in your previous home, but this was different. No longer were you in a high rise filled with other tenants that shared the same building. And no longer were you subjected to a husband that ungraciously crashed in and out of the home at all hours. You were all alone, in a home that had no other owner. A home where any vaguely masculine sound could not go unchecked, especially when you were naked and it was coming from inside of your bedroom.

“Shit,” you cussed, quickly shutting off the stream of water that pounded against your backside.

With shaky hands, you slid the door to the shower open, stepping out onto the tiles carefully so as not to make any noise. Had you locked the front door before coming upstairs? You couldn’t remember, but it hardly seemed important at that moment. Not when there was an unknown assailant in your bedroom, doing god knows what as he grunted from exertion. With most of your pointy things downstairs and the clothes you were wearing somewhere in the bedroom with him, there weren’t many options. Either you stayed in the bathroom and prayed he didn’t bust the door down, or you covered up as much as possible and ran for it.

With no other option, you gulped and wrapped a towel around yourself as tight as it would go. You couldn’t remember the last time you ran anywhere. It must have been the rugby tryouts a college roommate dragged you to during your first year. Shivering, you tried not to think about how you had gotten your ass kicked that day. Athletic was not a word you would use to describe yourself, you had always been the girl who had lunch with the English teacher because she didn’t have any friends, but this was life or death. Taking a deep breath, you eased the door open and slipped out, eyes trained on the sweaty back of a stranger. You were just about to start running when the man grunted, lifting himself from the floor with a huff. Frozen, you watched in horror as he turned around, his big brown eyes falling on you instantly.

“AH!,” he exclaimed, his booming voice catching you off guard and making you drop the towel that was already doing a horrible job at containing your curves.

A beat passed, one where you wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor and cease to exist. Whoever the home invader was, he was handsome. Handsome and staring quite plainly at your exposed breasts like he was trying to burn them into his memory. Your face burned, cunt clenching from his quiet reverie. If you were a stronger woman, or at least a woman who had been given regular orgasms from her partner, perhaps then you would have tried to escape him, but you weren’t. With your heart slamming against your ribcage, you stood there in complete silence, trapped by those dark eyes that took in every inch of your damp skin.

“Please,” you whispered, unsure whether it was his mercy or ruthlessness you were asking for.

Either way, the stranger seemed to know what you needed. Before you had a chance to even think about elaborating, he had already stepped into your space. For a moment the most twisted fantasies, along with the most terrifying thoughts, bubbled up from deep inside of you. His scent engulfed you, a delicious mixture of sawdust and the spiciness of his cologne, and it made you rub your thighs together to ease some of the pressure gathering there.

“M’sorry sweetheart,” he mumbled, the gentleness catching you off guard entirely.

It was soft, the low cadence of his syrupy drawl similar to that of a lover whispering sweet nothings after a particularly passionate night. All at once, you felt that electrified pull beneath your navel, an animalistic draw that you could tell he felt as well, and suddenly it didn’t matter that he was a stranger. Who were you to look a gift horse in the mouth? Especially one with such kissable lips. He stepped even closer and your heart stuttered, the proximity forcing your gaze up towards his face to gauge his intentions.

However, just as you thought that the gorgeous stranger might swoop down and take you, he averted his eyes, stooping down on creaky knees to grab the towel off the floor for you. All you could do was stare at him, watching as a bit of red crept up the side of his neck and brightened the highs of his beautiful cheekbones as he held it out. It truly was a shame that your burglar didn’t want to fuck you, especially since you were more than happy to let him take whatever he wanted once he made you cum, but reality wasn’t like the smutty novels you had lived off of. Trying to keep a petulant whine from spilling from your lips, you snatched the towel from his grasp and wrapped it around yourself once more.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to give ya a fright by hollerin’ like that. My ears are mostly for show these days darling. Fifteen years of construction will do that I suppose,” he awkwardly joked, sheepishly rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Um, okay? Who the hell are you? Why are you in my house?,” you asked, sounding more confused than angry.

He straightened up at once, brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of what you had just said.

“What?”

“What do you mean what?! I don’t know about you sir, but I don’t just walk into other people’s homes uninvited while they are in the goddamn shower,” you sassed, rolling your eyes at the way he was suddenly so keen to stare at the walls instead of you.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” he said under his breath, shaking his head.

“Excuse me?,” you snapped, the illusion of a steamy fantasy shattered.

He held up his hand, which made you want to rip the limb clean off his body but with no other option, you let him finish.

“My daughter sent me over here to help ya move the last little bit of your stuff in,” he sighed, his hands scrubbing at his face, “She said you knew I was coming and that I could just go in. Fuck, I know that sounds stupid but the kid is kinda the master at convincing people to do stuff for her.”

“You must be Sarah’s dad,” you laughed, suddenly noticing a couple of the features they shared.

He nodded, flushing even more as he chuckled alongside you. Looking at the man’s side profile, you couldn’t help but feel a bit bummed. When you thought of construction guys, men like Sarah’s dad didn’t exactly come to mind. But this man was something else, a unicorn hidden in a field of goblins that drank too much and had terrible political views. With a nose that you’d love to smush your clit against as you took his face for a ride and thick thighs that you knew would be more than capable of administering mind breaking thrusts, you were sure that proof of your arousal was about to start dripping down your thighs. It was unfair for a man like him to be so attractive, yet so off limits to you in a time of need. But before you could dwell on it too much, he started talking again.

“Listen, I uh… I’ve got that death trap that you call an AC set up downstairs, the kids are lugging in some of the other stuff right now, but I just thought that with a fancy ass bed frame like this, you might need a hand. I really didn’t mean to uh…,” he trailed off.

So this was what Sarah had meant when she said she’d take care of things. You sighed. She had been trying to help you, that much was clear as your eyes landed on the dresser and vanity that had been dragged upstairs as well, but all the teen had truly accomplished was embarrassing you in front of her absolute smoke show of a dad. Even now, with his eyes elsewhere and his jaw set, you could tell that just one glance from him was going to have you weak in the knees.

“I mean, she mentioned leaving it up to her. Never said how she planned to help though,” you chuckled, “You can turn around now too by the way, I’m decent.”

And just as you thought, the second that he turned around you had to lock your knees so that you didn’t keel over. Fuck, you hated that you were right. Sarah’s dad was broad, the type of broad you knew came from a lifetime of working with his hands. His hair was a mess of mussed curls, with just a couple slivers of grey peeking out to show his age amongst the usual brown. But his eyes, god damnit his eyes, shot straight through you.

The way he loomed over you, his gaze seeming to predict every mood, every whim, every desire without ever proding, made you want to jump him. And weirdly enough, you knew he felt the same, could practically taste the chemical reaction that he was having alongside you. His pupils were fully dilated, nostrils flaring like he was savouring the warm smell of vanilla that wafted off of you. He licked his lips as he stared down at your own and you wondered how he would taste if he gave himself permission to lean in.

There was a part of you that wanted to shrink away from it, from the unwavering glance of someone whose vibrations seemed so aligned with your own, but you didn’t. It was strange. For years, despite the fact that you were literally married, nobody had looked at you like Sarah’s dad was in that moment. To be vulnerable, to be known, was a burden by all reports and running from the past had become something of a sport to you as of late. Nevertheless, for some reason, even though you were half naked and incredibly flustered, you had never felt more rooted in place.

“I’m Joel by the way,” he drawled as he shoved one of his big bear paws out towards you, “Joel Miller. I live across the street, but I’m sure my knucklehead kid already told ya that.”

The way Joel’s hand swallowed yours when you took it, his thick fingers warming your freezing skin as you barely managed to stutter out your name, was not lost on either of you. Something hummed underneath your skin, making you want to reach out and yank his face towards yours. An electric current lit up every single nerve ending in your body, while warning bells went off in your head.

For the sake of human decency, you tried to be reasonable. A man this hunky definitely had a wife, a girlfriend, or several more casual flings, and you were not in any position to be looking for anything. But that didn’t stop the uncensored filth that flashed through your mind. All you could think about was tearing his shirt off, licking the bead of sweat that dripped down his neck, and grinding against what you knew would be a devastatingly huge bulge. You bit your lip, shifting a bit uncomfortably as you felt your clit pulse with desire.

Joel flicked his gaze down towards your bare thighs, a ghost of a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. He knew. You wanted to run from him, to bury your head in the sand until the hot flash of embarrassment fizzled out, but you didn’t. Instead you stayed put, letting his scent dizzy you as he shifted imperceptibly closer. One more step and your nose would be brushing Joel’s chest, one more step and you knew that you would be climbing him like a tree. The situation itself was insane, but you couldn’t help but imagine what his rough palms were going to feel like against your hips as he speared you down on his thick c-

“Well, I’m real sorry about the miscommunication darling. I truly thought that she told you. Christ, I can’t even imagine how scared I must’ve made ya. The last thing you needed was a dumbass like me welcoming you to the neighborhood with a heart attack,” Joel joked, gracefully extracting his hand from your grasp.

You didn’t even realize you were still holding it. His awkward smile brought you back down to earth, halting any internal debates about whether the strength he so clearly used at his job would translate in the bedroom. Instead, you waved him off and turned towards one of the boxes, grabbing whatever clothes you could find to cover yourself.

“Don’t worry about it Joel, just maybe call first next time… Or at least knock, I’d like to know in advance if I’m gonna give someone a show,” you shot back, the humor in your tone catching him off guard.

“Shit, alright then darling. Will do,” Joel chuckled, running a hand through his hair as he grew even redder than before.

The two of you laughed for a second, completely locked in one another as the unbearable tension melted. It was incredibly comforting and extremely odd all at once. Despite the fact that you were exhausted, your mascara undoubtedly smeared beneath your eyes due to the elusiveness of your makeup wipes, you didn’t feel any particular urge to get dressed.

Anyone with eyes could see that Joel Miller was a certified DILF, but the comfort you felt had nothing to do with his attractiveness. It was his presence, a steady flow of calm that radiated off of him and soothed the usual restlessness that drove you to the point of madness everyday. That and the way he looked at you, his eyes no longer widened from the sneak peek he had received, falling upon you as if you were someone he had known for years. It made you want to stay right there, drilling him about his life in nothing but a towel as he put together your bed, almost like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Hey, where do you think she would want this - Oh fuck, what the hell?,” a voice said from behind you, forcing the two of you to finally break eye contact.

Another girl, this one interestingly also around the same age as Sarah, stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips. Based on the way she cocked an eyebrow at the man behind her, looking like she was about to make his life a living hell with all of the jokes she had conjured in that instant, you had no doubt that this was his other daughter. Ellie looked different than Sarah, with lighter skin and wavy hair, but their expressions were pretty much the same. With how close in age the two teens were, it seemed as though the devilishly handsome man in front of you had been blessed with a ridiculously busy year around fifteen years ago. You wondered which one of their moms Joel had raised his daughters with and sighed. Both of them were beautiful, which left no doubt in your mind that their moms were models of some sort.

“Oh, I see how it is,” Ellie started, already drawing an exasperated sigh from her father, “Go help Sarah with the rest so that I can get this shit put together Ellie. Puh-lease! If you wanted some alone time with the hot new neighbour lady then you could’ve just asked us. That would have been a lot less weird than this.”

“Damnit Ellie, that’s not -” Joel stopped, rubbing his eyes as he grew more flustered, “I was just putting her bed together and she came out of the shower, that’s all. Cut it out, would ya?”

Ellie rolled her eyes, forcing you to bite back a laugh as her father floundered behind you.

“Sure yeah, just putting her bed together so that you can get her pregnant on it,” she mumbled as she backed out of the room.

“Hey! Watch your mouth kid,” he called after her, getting nothing but a cackle from down the hallway in response.

Joel looked upwards, as if he was asking for assistance from a higher power before his gaze came back down to meet yours. Embarrassed didn’t even begin to cover how the man looked at that moment. Something akin to a fondness blossomed in your chest and you tried to shove it down but he was making it impossible. He looked cute all riled up, like a twelve year old boy rather than a man in his mid thirties.

“Fuck’s sake, m’sorry about her too. That’s my other kid, Ellie. She thinks she’s a goddamn comedian or something, but I’m workin’ on it,” Joel groaned.

“She IS funny Joel, you just don’t think so because the joke was at your expense,” you pointed out with a sly grin.

“Yours too.”

“Yeah, but I’ve got a sense of humor,” you teased, giving him a cheeky wink for good measure.

Joel laughed, throwing his head back in a way that you couldn’t help but find endearing. His Adam's apple bobbed as the boisterous sound escaped his lips and you longed to nip at it until he whined. Did Joel Miller ever whine? God, you hoped so. Or perhaps he growled, muttering twisted promises in his lover’s ears as he fucked them into the mattress. You stopped yourself as Joel’s laughter petered off, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would notice how close you were to exploding in an instant. All of it was so ridiculous, you were just two adults having a normal conversation, nothing more.

“Well, anyways I uh-,” you cleared your throat, “I should get dressed. You don’t have to finish all of this Joel, but I really appreciate the help. I’m sure you have stuff to be getting back to at home and I don’t want to be a pain. I’ve got the rest of this.”

“With all due respect sweetheart, considering the fact that I ain’t seen a single box of tools anywhere and you’re on your own, I’m pretty sure you could use all the help you can get. How about I finish up while you get dressed? If you still want to kick me out after that, then by all means,” Joel proposed.

“Fine, but I’m a speedy dresser so chop chop,” you said, pointing a finger at him.

He laughed and gave you a mock salute, “Yes ma’am.”

And while it was usually true that you were a speedy dresser, the shredded muscles that weighed you down ended up working in Joel’s favor. Plus, it had taken you nearly fifteen minutes to dig out your deodorant from one of the boxes. If it had been anyone else, you would have left it for later, but there was no way you were going to smell bad in front of a man that had turned you into a horny teen again. Once you were done, you slipped back out into the bedroom, coming to a halt when you saw the progress of Joel’s work. Although you were sure that he would likely be done getting the frame together, and perhaps even setting up the headboard, nothing could have prepared you for the amount of work he had accomplished.

The bed was fully set up. The only task that was left was to cover it in sheets. Meanwhile, your bedside tables were in place on each side, the lamp and alarm clock set up on the one closest to the window. Even the rug you typically placed at your bedside for the chillier mornings was exactly where it should be. It was as if Joel had delved into your mind to find the exact layout you desired in a home. You smiled as you looked over his work. Who would have thought that such a man, or any man for that matter, could possess such attention to detail? You smiled, deciding that you needed to thank him, but as you looked around, you realized he was gone.

A bit peeved from Joel’s sudden absence, you moved down the hallway in search of one of the three Millers you had been acquainted with so far. The spare bedroom that you planned to make an office now held your desk and your monitor, another clue of the man you had wanted to climb like a tree just moments before, but the culprit behind the set up remained elusive. As you drifted down the stairs, you felt the cold air being pumped out of the clunky air conditioner in the living room and sighed. The kitchen table was in place, the loveseat, the armchair, even your many plants that had been strapped into the passenger seat of the truck were shoved along the wall of the big bay windows, soaking up the last bits of the Texan sun.

The kindness that the Millers had shown to you today was not lost on you, especially with how shitty of a day it had been thus far. Today was supposed to mark your thirtieth year on this earth, a cause for celebration that you had actually been looking forward to and yet, you had commenced it with a hasty escape and ended it with a difficult move. Still, you supposed there was a good side to even the worst endings, and maybe the good side was getting to fluster a ruggedly handsome contractor in your bedroom without really having to try. Even with your unshaved legs and melted makeup, he had still looked at you like you were some sort of nymph. That had to count for something. Stepping into the kitchen in search of the beer you so desperately needed, you decided to count the experience as a win.

So what if the hunk across the street had seen you but ass naked? The thinly veiled desire in Joel’s eyes for those few split seconds after the towel had fallen was the perfect balm to an itch that hadn’t been scratched in quite some time. For years, your ex had barely glanced in your direction, which made sense now that you knew that he had been cheating on you for the entirety of your marriage. Stupidly, you had assumed it to be your own fault that he wasn’t interested. As if his lack of desire for you and your body was somehow proof that you were not only unattractive, but a burden to him as well.

The rejection had made you do incredibly ridiculous things like signing up for pilates and trying every bogus crash diet there was, but this absolute stranger had been interested in your curves in an instant. A stunning man that any sane woman would happily ride into the sunset had stared at you like you were a four course meal, never once frowning at any of your imperfections. There was power in that, a power you had completely forgotten until the moment that the towel fell. Fuck your ex, you thought as you uncapped a cold beer, you would be fine without him.

Life in Austin had started off a bit hectic, as you found yourself distracted for days after the encounter with Joel, but it slowly started to take shape as the days turned into weeks. More of the boxes were unpacked, a fresh coat of paint eventually covered the walls of your living room and kitchen, and even the weeds in the little garden out front had been dealt with. With the few art pieces you owned hung on the walls and your plants crowding every windowsill of the house, the place was finally a solace. Even your job at the library, despite the disarray everything had been in because its former director, had become easier with time. The staff slowly learned to accommodate your managing style, along with the much needed updates in the form of a functional filing system and actual advertising for the small events that the library held.

By the end of your first month, Austin no longer felt like a holding place for something more, it felt like home. And although you had still not made any friends outside of the two teenage girls that somehow always sweet talked their way into a night of movies and junk food in your living room, you were happy. Originally, you had hoped for girlfriends to drink wine and chat with, but if the best that Austin could offer you was hanging out with your neighbour’s chatty kids, you’d take it. The girls were good company, which was more than you could say about the previous crowd you had ran with. Plus, you had managed to greedily squeeze some information from the two about the handsome man that they lived with, the same man who had since vanished from your life without a trace.

Joel was a single father, a fact that you tried not to dwell on too much for fear you would do something stupid like try to seduce him. After Sarah’s mom had left he had taken on full responsibility for the newborn girl, all while juggling work and a brother who apparently had been known to get into a bit of trouble from time to time. That alone was worthy of respect, but it was his guardianship over Ellie that made your heart melt. Sarah was only a couple months old when a bundled up newborn had been found at one of his worksites and without knowing anything about the nameless child, Joel and his big heart had taken her in.

Everything you heard about this man, whether it be his care over his daughters, or his apparent love for cooking, or the fact that he never missed an event in his children’s lives despite owning his own company, was enough to light a spark in your belly. You tried to suppress it, the cave woman instincts that screamed at you to find a way to get Joel alone so that you could pounce, but it was becoming harder the more his daughters told you about him. The allure of a man like him, a true provider that seemed to put everyone above himself, was getting harder to ignore. Which meant that as hard as you tried to not to be disappointed by his sudden absence, you couldn’t help the sour look on your face every time he managed to dodge you.

Every morning when you heard Joel’s truck start, you found yourself racing to the window, hoping to get a sneak peak at him in his work clothes. Much to your dismay, he managed to escape in the nick of time every day, and you were left kicking your feet like a goddamn teenager as you watched his tail lights disappear down the street. It was probably for the best anyways, or at least that’s what you told yourself. The last thing you needed was to be caught drooling at him in his carhartt like some sort of creep.

Despite the obvious crush that you held for the gruff stud, you continuously reminded yourself that Joel Miller was off limits. It didn’t matter that he was single, nor that he was obviously attracted to you. After a full ten years of being committed to only one man and eight years of a heart breaking marriage, with the last six of them being downright embarrassing, you knew that getting involved with someone so soon was a bad idea. What you needed was something flirty and fun, the fling you never got the chance to have in your twenties. All you wanted was someone who would call you pretty, someone who would take you on a few nice dates and maybe even fool around with you in the back of their car. And Joel Miller… Well, Joel Miller was a man through and through. There was no way someone with so many responsibilities would be interested in something so fleeting.

Which was why when a handsome stranger had approached you at the coffee shop in town and asked you out, you had happily accepted. Brad was handsome and tall, with a smart blazer that had made him look incredibly sharp in the more casual environment of the cafe. In hindsight, that should have been the first warning sign, but you had ignored it in hopes that you might get a nice dinner out of him at the very least. How ridiculous you had been, hoping for a nice dinner from a man that was almost a carbon copy of your ex.

From the moment you saw Brad in his flashy convertible, you knew the date was a mistake, but you had stupidly pushed it aside. But as you listened to him drone on about the thrills of working in marketing, you felt yourself beginning to drift away. All of the work you had raced home after work to accomplish, the makeup, the dress, the heels, the Pamela Anderson updo that you had spent nearly an hour trying to perfect; it had all been for nothing.

“... And that’s when I said, you call that content creation? Are you in communications or something?,” Brad laughed, a nasally sound that grated upon your already thin patience.

You granted him a fake laugh, too out of it to make it sound overly convincing but he didn’t seem to notice or care.

“Anyways, so that’s just a little bit about me,” he sighed, as if he hadn’t been talking for ages, “And you? I think I remember you saying that you’re a school teacher right? Man, those little boys must love having you around all day. I know that I would’ve loved having a hot teacher like you when I was their age.”

A sharp burst of frustration burned through you, igniting a fire inside of your chest that clawed at the backs of your eyes. Three times you had told him what your profession was and yet it seemed that your words still hadn’t permeated through his thick skull. And the comment about the boys in the classroom he thought you ran? That made you want to punch him straight in his overly smug face. You supposed you shouldn’t have been that surprised, especially since every bathroom break Brad took was followed with the tell tale sniffling that came from railing lines when he finally returned to the table. Every fiber of your being longed to get away, tears threatening to spill over as yet another man made you feel as though you were not worthy of attention. And still, your date was oblivious to it all, a nostalgic reminder of what you had dealt with for the last ten years.

“Alright, well I gotta go take another leak. You stay here gorgeous, I’ll be right back,” Brad announced suddenly, clapping his hands together as he unceremoniously lifted himself from the booth and scurried towards the safe zone where he could delve into the white powder in his pocket.

He shot you a wink as he waltzed away, making you shudder as you watched him disappear into the bathroom. The second Brad was out of view, you were up out of the booth, fumbling with the hem of your dress as you made your hasty escape. Patrons turned towards you as you went by, no doubt amused by the frazzled woman that was doing a horrible job getting out unnoticed. All eyes seemed to be on you as you bumped into waiters and busboys, but it was when your heel suddenly snapped just inches from the front door that you finally broke down.

“No,” you croaked, the pitiful sound of it muffled beneath the upbeat pop music that the chic establishment was blaring through its speakers.

The gazes of the entire bar, along with undoubtedly most of the restaurant, burned a hole into your backside and you had no other choice than to slip the heel off so that you could hobble towards the exit. You barely managed to make it just a few steps outside before the real tears came. Heaving sobs tumbled from your lips as you hobbled towards the sidewalk, making the smokers out front scatter like rats, but you couldn’t care less. You had already made a spectacle, what were a few more judgmental looks to someone so desolate?

Brad had offered to drive and you, swept up in the fantasy of being treated like a lady for once in your god forsaken life, had stupidly accepted. With nobody to call, and no idea how to navigate the transit system, you had no choice but to take the thirty minute journey back home on foot.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid…,” you muttered, berating yourself for even thinking that you might have a good time.

The idea of a perfect date was so stupid, it was just a concept fueled by cheesy romance novels and hallmark movies. Every date you had ever been on was a flop but for whatever reason, there was still some childish part of you that dreamed of one day being knocked off your feet by someone who cared enough to try. It didn’t even have to be flashy, all you wanted was to have someone to plan something that you would actually enjoy, not some sleazy date at a place way above your paygrade. Upon accepting the invitation, you knew that Brad wasn’t the kind of guy that was going to dream up something life changing, but you had hoped that he would at least pretend to care about what you had to say, even if it was just to swindle you into some mediocre hand stuff in the car on the way back. But of course, no such luck.

Wiping some of the smudged eyeliner off of your face, you leaned down and took off the other shoe, readying yourself for the long trek home. You sighed, heart pounding as you looked down at the get up you were in. The dress was beautiful, but it was also one of the more revealing items in your wardrobe and it would be dark soon. As a car full of young men slowed down as they passed, all of them looking at you like you were a piece of meat, you resigned yourself to running down the highway if you must. However, as you hastened towards the crosswalk, a fresh wave of panic propelling you forward, you heard someone call out your name. You sighed, thinking it was Brad hot on your heels, only to be met with the sight of none other than Joel Miller running after you as you turned.

“Christ woman, you’re fucking fast,” Joel panted as he reached you, his hand rubbing at his chest as he struggled to catch his breath.

“Joel? What are you doing here?,” you asked, so entirely bewildered by his presence that you briefly wondered if he was a panic induced hallucination.

“I was meeting with a potential client back at the bar, some hot shot asshole that wants to put up a new subdivision. I was just about to leave but then uh…Well, I saw you come in,” he said sheepishly, his words only baffling you even more.

“Oh,” was all you could say.

A beat passed, one where you tried to avoid eye contact despite the fact that his gaze was burning through the side of your face. The last person you wanted to see at that moment was Joel, especially when his hair was slicked back from his face and his well built physique was practically bursting through the seams of his button up. You were a complete mess, as was your life, and the truth of it was laid bare for him on the filthy sidewalk as cars passed by. You were mortified.

As to why Joel would stay at a place like that on account of you? You couldn’t say. It certainly didn’t seem like the type of restaurant he would be caught dead in, but you supposed that was just the type of man Joel was. Hell, he probably sensed the time bomb your date was going to be and felt obligated to make sure that the strange woman his kids seemed to like hanging out with made it home safe. The thought of it made you nauseous.

“Here, you left this. I uh, I figured you’d need it,” Joel mumbled as he shoved your purse at you.

The act was nothing really, something any normal person would have the decency to do if they saw someone leave behind their things in a public setting, but it shattered the last bit of resolve that you had been desperately clinging to. A strange noise came from you, the sound somewhere between a choked whine and a garbled apology, then the dam broke. The first sob was harsh, all of the pain of having yet another man disappoint you bubbling up and slapping Joel straight in the face with its volume. And yet, as you tried to grab the purse from him so that you could run from him and the terrible night, he snatched it back.

“W-What?,” you squeaked, unable to stop the shaky cries that slurred all of your words.

“C’mon sweet girl,” Joel sighed, pulling the broken heels from your shaky hands as well, “Let’s get you home.”

You barely had time to think before one of his hands was pressed against the small of your back, leading you towards the parking lot like it was the most normal thing in the world. He didn’t say anything else despite your incoherent attempts at refusing his assistance, he simply continued to coral you towards his truck with his soft touch. Joel wrenched his passenger door open, throwing your heels into the back of the truck and carefully placing the purse on the center console before he held his hand out to you.

“Joel, I don’t need - ,” you stopped, cut off by the stormy look and sharp shake of the head that he sent your way.

With no other choice, you grabbed Joel’s hand, quietly thanking him as you used it to lift yourself into the cab. Once you were in the seat, he stared at you for a moment, like he was trying to solve some sort of puzzle in his head. His eyes flicked over every inch of you, the warmth in them almost as palpable as the concern. Your heart stuttered when Joel’s eyes finally met yours again, the poor thing stumbling through its duty under his heavy gaze. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, warring with himself for a couple more seconds before he finally asked, “Are you okay darling?”

“I’m…,” you stopped, unsure how to answer him.

The answer to that question was complicated. Were you okay? That was something that you asked yourself almost every single day since arriving in Austin and luckily, thanks to all of the ways your life had improved since leaving you ex, your answer was closer to a yes than it had been in years.

“Almost… I’m trying to be at least,” you said quietly, “That’s why I thought it might be good to… I don’t know, try to get out there again? It was a stupid idea. That guy was clearly not the right person to try with but I just wanted to feel special I guess.”

Joel nodded, a look of genuine understanding slightly softening his clenched jaw. His fists unclenched at his sides, his whole being deflating with the immediate danger out of sight. He started to say something, to answer the vulnerable admission you had made to him, but an obnoxiously loud voice cut him off.

“Hey! There you are. Shit, I only left for like ten minutes babe and you ditch me? C’mon! What the fuck is up with that? I thought you were fun,” Brad laughed as he approached the truck.

“God damnit,” you muttered, readying yourself for whatever bullshit argument this guy was going to force you to take part in because of his dented ego.

“Stay here,” Joel grunted, a grim expression wiping any trace of compassion from his face as he began to close your door.

“Wait, what? Joel, n-.” he cut you off, slamming the door in your face as he turned towards the man stalking towards the back of his truck.

You turned, watching through wide eyes as Brad tried to keep his cool in the face of your kind neighbour that had just morphed into a frightening guard dog. Sure, Brad was just as tall as Joel, but Joel was undoubtedly stronger than him. Whereas the muscles your date had were for show, created in a gym with a million other douchebags that looked just like him, Joel’s were earned through back breaking labor. Next to your neighbor, Brad looked like a shrimp dick nobody and based on his nervousness, he knew it too.

Their words were muffled, so much so that you could barely make out anything other than your name, but their faces said it all. While Joel remained stoic, Brad grew more petulant by the second, until he slowly began to take on the shape of a child who had gotten their toy taken away from them. You didn’t know what to do. The mess was yours and yet, there was Joel looming over your shitty date, looking like he was about ready to strangle the asshole if he said one more stupid thing. With how much the Millers had helped you on your first day, the last thing you needed was to feel more indebted to any of them, especially Joel. Sighing, you ripped open the door and turned on shaky legs to face the man throwing a tantrum over your disappearance.

“Fine, what do I care? That bitch has probably fucked half the town by now,” Brad laughed, the words slamming into your chest so hard that you stumbled a few steps back.

“I’m gonna give you one chance to walk that one back asshole,” Joel seethed, the veins in his neck straining as all of the kindness you were accustomed to seeing in him shifted into something much darker.

Brad took one step forward, smugness oozing from his pores as he leaned in to say, “I’m just saying man, might want to get checked out if you’ve hit that. Do you know how easy it was for me to get a date with her? All I had to do was ask and that slut -”

The rest of that statement was lost, a sharp grunt replacing whatever scathing comment Brad had brewing as Joel’s fist connected with his face. You gasped, watching as your date fell back on his ass, groaning as blood spurted from his shattered nose. Brad didn’t even try to get up, the fear evident in his eyes as his attacker knelt down and roughly took hold of his collar.

“You’re not going to call her, you’re not going to try to talk to her in town, and you sure as shit aren’t going to tell anyone about what happened here today. I don’t want to see you even fucking breathe in the same space as that woman, you got me?,” Joel hissed, giving the bleeding man a hard shake for good measure.

“Shit man, I-I’ve got it! She won’t hear from me ever again,” Brad stuttered, sounding almost close to tears himself.

“Good, now fuck off before I knock your goddamn teeth out,” Joel snapped, dropping your date onto the pavement and promptly turning back towards the truck.

His eyes widened a little when he saw you standing near the bumper, seemingly unaware that he had an audience for his threats. You gave him a weak smile, something that earned you yet another shake of the head from him as he stomped towards you. Joel took your hand this time, grumbling about safety as he dragged you back towards the passenger seat, but you were too flustered by the scene to ask him to speak up.

Joel had defended you, despite the fact that you were basically strangers. And not just that, but he had looked damn good doing it too. You tried to keep yourself in check, to remind yourself that he was simply a good man, but he was making it incredibly hard. A gasp fell from your lips as Joel mindlessly gripped your hips, forgoing the hand hold in order to lift you back into the truck.

“Shit,” you whispered, unable to keep the cuss from tumbling out with his fingers digging into your curves, releasing a swarm of butterflies inside of your gut.

Joel paused, his face just inches away from yours and his hands still placed on your hips as he looked you right in the eye. Neither of you said a word, the silence thick as your breaths slowly synced with one another. Once again, the rest of the world fell away and it was just the two of you. A tidal wave could rush past and you’d be none the wiser, too wrapped up in the way his dark eyes searched yours for something unknown. The warmth that radiated off of him soothed your nerves, until all of the shakes that had previously been wracking your body petered off.

“M’sorry sweetheart, you shouldn’t have had to see that nonsense,” Joel said after a while, giving you another once over before he grabbed your seat belt and buckled you in.

Normally if any man would have buckled you in, you would’ve lost it. But with Joel, it didn’t feel like infantilization. You weren’t even sure he was aware he had done it. The act was simply a part of his programming, the stress of the previous encounter making him move entirely on autopilot. At first you stayed silent, overwhelmed by his proximity and the feeling of his fleeting touch drifting away as he started to lean back out of the cab, but the void that his absence left broke you. Without even thinking about it, you grabbed his bicep, the thick muscles making you shiver as you felt them tense under your palm.

“Thank you Joel,” you said softly, the sound of it almost getting lost under the hum of traffic, “I’m not… I don’t have anyone, or really anything except for my house and my job. This was… kind, more kind than someone like me deserves. Thank you.”

Joel stared at you for another moment, his brow furrowed like he was trying to work out some sort of equation before he said, “Don’t be ridiculous,” and slammed the door in your face.

The silence was deafening as Joel walked over to the driver’s side, the sting of rejection coming back with a vengeance. You couldn’t understand why he would shut you down like that, especially after risking an assault charge just because some asshole called you a slut. Embarrassment nipped at the heels of his rejection, warming your cheeks as you tried not to think about the visceral reaction you had to his touch just moments before. Joel was just being nice, that’s all there was to it. He wasn’t your lover, he wasn’t your friend, he wasn’t anything other than the neighbour who his kids happened to like. To hope for more was ridiculous.

The second that the door to the driver’s side was yanked open, you looked ahead, not wanting to make the situation anymore weirder than it had to be. Joel eased himself into his seat, fumbling with his own seatbelt for a second before he started the engine. Without another word, he backed out of the parking space, even placing his hand behind your seat in a way you couldn’t help but find attractive. Every inch of the tiny space already smelled of Joel, but with his chest inches from your face and his musk in your nose, you suddenly longed for the walk home you had originally feared.

The ride home was quiet, neither of you saying a word as the truck sped towards your culdesac. Joel fiddled with the radio a bit, putting on an oldies station that played stuff like Johnny Cash and Hank Williams to fill the silence. Meanwhile, you tried hopelessly to wipe some of the makeup off of your face, all while a few more tears slipped through to ruin the little bit of progress you made. Groaning as the final stretch of the ride came into view, you decided to give up on the task altogether. Soon you would be home, where the makeup remover awaited you in the upstairs bathroom.

You sighed as Joel turned down your street, longing for comfier clothes and a pillow to suffocate yourself with. He turned into your driveway, ignoring your half-assed attempts to assure him that you were perfectly capable of walking across the street as he parked. Instead, he jumped out of the truck and rushed over to your door, yet again surprising you as he held it open.

“Um, thanks,” you said, feeling particularly shy as he led you towards the front of the house.

Joel said nothing in return, his meaty hand pressed into the small of your back again as the two of you walked up the pathway. He followed you all the way to the porch, only dropping his hand back down to his side the second you were in reach of the door knob. But you didn’t grab the handle, too busy staring up at him with your lip caught between your teeth. His words - Don’t be ridiculous - played over and over inside of your head, until all you could focus on was the hot sting that thickened the lining of your throat. He didn’t waiver when a fresh line of tears clouded your vision, steady in the storm as per usual, and you suddenly wondered how he could stand being in the presence of someone so emotional.

“He’s not worth your tears honey,” Joel said after a moment, his tone laced with something akin to affection, “You’re too pretty, too good, and way too fucking smart to be datin’ a dumbass like him. Whoever gets to take you out on a date should thank their lucky stars, not be a dick.”

The words were like a shock to your system, making your mouth fall open. He sounded almost wistful, like it should be him taking you out on the town and not someone like Brad, but that couldn’t be. Joel had already made it perfectly clear that he didn’t consider himself someone you could count on, so why would he say something so charming? Was he trying to further complicate your night or was he simply trying to stop you from crying? It had to be the latter.

“I don’t know what to say Joel,” you confessed.

He shook his head, staring down at his feet for another second before he looked back up at you.

“Ain’t nothing to say, I’m just stating facts,” Joel said, pausing as his own words made him so flustered that he had to clear his throat so he could continue with, “Uh, you got anything other than beer in that fridge of yours? That meal you were picking at wouldn’t even be enough to feed a damn pigeon.”

“I’ve been here for over a month Joel, so luckily I’ve gotten the chance to fill up my fridge since move in day, but it’s good to know that you snooped through it,” you chuckled, some of the tension dissipating.

“Good, that’s uh… That’s good,” Joel breathed, shifting uncomfortably on his feet for another painfully awkward stretch of silence.

“Look, I really appreciate what you did for me today. I know that this was not how you probably wanted to spend your Thursday, but you don’t have to stay. I’m fine, everything is great. You can go back to the people you’ve got and I’ll go back to… Uh, this,” you laughed bitterly, “I mean, this is all I’ve got, right?”

The vague gesture you made towards the tiny home was pathetic, even to you, but you weren’t sure how else to get Joel to leave you be. He wanted to help, that much was clear, but his harsh words still hung above your head, shattering any illusion that the two of you could one day be friends. It had stung, but it was just the reality check that you needed. You were a big girl and your handsome neighbor could not be the answer to all of your problems.

“Oh sweetheart, that’s not what I m-”

“Good night Joel,” you cut in, not wanting to hear another word.

The weight of the day had caught up to you, pressing down on your shoulders as you swung open the door and closed it straight in Joel’s face. Perhaps it was harsh, but you were too tired and had been toyed with by far too many men as of late to care about his feelings. All you wanted was a steaming hot bath, a tub of ice cream, and perhaps a few rounds with the rabbit hidden in your nightstand before you promptly passed out. Was that so much to ask for?

Leaving Joel and all of his confusing sentiments behind, you trudged up the stairs, trying not to think about the fact that Brad’s words had meant absolutely nothing in comparison to your neighbour’s. In fact, you could care less what that asshole thought. What truly irked you was Joel and his flagrant disregard for your feelings one moment and his caring words the next. Nevertheless, you tried your best to tamp it all down, focusing instead on filling the tub with steaming hot water so that you could finally put the day to rest.

The next day came much too quickly and you found yourself thanking the universe that it was finally Friday. If things were slow, which they usually were given the fact that the local kids would rather be caught dead than in the library on their weekends, you decided that today would be the perfect day to sneak out a bit early. An extra large pizza, some beer, and one of your many rom coms called to you, forcing you to get out of bed with an exasperated grunt. It was much too late to go through your usual routine, so you quickly splashed some water on your face, hoping that the bit of mascara you put on afterwards would distract from the puffiness around your eyes. Forgoing pants, you threw on a semi professional violet dress that brushed your knees, the sweetheart neckline showcasing your collarbones perfectly. After pairing it with a strappy pair of heels and throwing a cardigan over your shoulder to combat the frigid AC in the library, you slipped out the front door.

The sun sat high in the sky, the heat of the day already well underway despite the fact that it was only eight o’clock in the morning, but that wasn’t what you noticed first. What you noticed first was the wrapped sandwich that sat on the porch swing, along with the small note that peeked out from beneath the iced coffee that was sweating under the morning heat. You approached the swing carefully, as if at any moment something might jump out at you. Before you had even read a single line, you knew who the gifts were from, and you weren’t sure you wanted to know why he had left them.

Figured you might need an extra boost this morning and Ellie told me what you liked at that fancy ass cafe in town.

You giggled, the first line of Joel’s note already breaking through the walls that you had tried to construct after leaving him on the porch the previous night.

There’s a barbecue at my house this Saturday and I’d love it if you came and I think you should come and meet some people. Plus, it would make the girls really happy if you came, they really like you and so do I.

If not, I understand, you probably already have weekend plans anyways but I thought I’d let you know. I also left my number in case you wanted to talk, in case anything came up. You never know when you might need someone.

Hope to see ya on Saturday,

Joel

(512) 765 - 9140

Although Joel had tried to cross out his original words, you saw straight through the thin layer of blue ink. He wanted you to come, despite everything that had happened the previous day. And not just that, but he had given you his number as well? To talk? You tried not to squeal like a schoolgirl. If that wasn’t enough to make you swoon, the fact that the cafe that you liked was on the other side of town, which meant that Joel went out of his way this morning to pick up your order, was enough to bring a giddy smile to your face. You shoved the note into your purse, standing a bit taller as you walked towards your car with a half melted iced coffee and a room temperature breakfast sandwich.

It didn’t matter to you that the taste was a bit off as you dug in, shifting your rust bucket into reverse and ignoring the way the engine clanged as you sped towards your last workday of the week. A handsome man had left you breakfast, along with a sweet note that tied a helium balloon to your heart and lifted it from the confines of your chest, and he didn’t even expect anything in return. By all regards, that was a win. So, as you sipped on the slightly watery coffee and inhaled the sandwich, you found yourself distracted by thoughts of Joel Miller and the barbecue he had invited you to.

Maybe you weren’t so alone after all.

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satureja13 · 1 year ago

Text

'Guess who just got back today? Them wild-eyed boys that had been away Haven't changed, had much to say But man, I still think them cats are crazy They were askin' if you were around How you was, where you could be found I told 'em you were livin' downtown Drivin' all the old men crazy'

The Boys are back in Town - Thin Lizzy

We are back! From a new computer! (EA App stopped working on my old Windows 7 PC -.-) Arturo invited them to celebrate the opening of a brand new Temple in Morensong (and for a belated Ostara/Spring Equinox Festival since we couldn't celebrate together last week. Day and Night were equal on March 21st and warmer days are coming. Hopefully for the Boys too).

They aren't really ready to meet again. Neither Saiwa and Jeb (after Sai's breakdown) nor Jack and Kiyoshi (after Jack's breakdown). But Ji Ho has a plan.

Arturo welcomed them and showed them around. This Temple is much bigger than Kiyoshi's/ the Tree's in Koh Sahpa. Had Kiyoshi gained so much more popularity since he's back from the tree?

Arturo: "Haha no ^^' Kiyoshi's followers wanted this Temple for Kiri, Little Goat and Kumo who hadn't left Kiyoshi's side and cared for him while he was one with the Tree for all those decades. And Little Goat played a big part in bringing him back eventually." Oh... ok Ö.ö So we have a Stable Temple now... For horses, goats and sheep. We've seen stranger things, haven't we? There are 12 easter eggs hidden in the following pics and posts. I write the amount of eggs in the respective pic below in brackets. For example in the pic below you can find 1 easter egg, so I write (1). (The same egg can appear in different pics and angles, but it still counts as 1 egg.)

Kiyoshi is embarrassed. He knows that the others are keeping his distance to him since they know the whole truth about him and Jack and that he became a demon, he's back and and a deity now and they are forced to stay together to avoid a catastrophe in their possible future and he destroyed Jeb and Saiwa's relationship with this damn 'Bird' misunderstanding... He just wanted to live quietly among them and somehow make it up to them and serve them and not to cause a ruckus and being treated as something special and upset them even more. (1)

The Temple is big enough for all the horses and goats and Kumo so they finally have a place to stay in Tomarang! (1)

The Boys' horses are Otherworlds horses and they are free to roam whereever they want to and the Boys can call them via the goats. Not sure if they stay here all together all the time since they have their own problems and misunderstandings and quarrels among them... (see our spin off -> The Stables)

Arturo: "What do you think? It's awesome, right?" Saiwa: "It absolutley is. They will live in a palace!" Arturo: "Come over to the meadow. I prepared games and food." (3) (But only two new eggs, the third egg is already shown 3 pics above. That makes a total of 5 different eggs in this post. Have you found them all? The other ones can be found in the following episodes and I will reveal where they are hidden in an extra post after the festival.)

From the Beginning ~ Underwater Love ~ Latest 🕹️ 'Therapy Game' from the beginning ▶️ here 📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 17-22 ~ 23-28

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pendwelling · 7 months ago

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hello !!

I have been reading your content for a while and I really appreciate it especially your detailed answer to people questions I really like it 😄😄

That's why I want to ask my questions too☺️☺️

Hmmm so first , you know in chapter 805 yuseo called gain his Earth and in chapter 850 or close to it when yuseo knew his friends forgot about him ,he was having a breakdown 😭😭 and he said might even resent them for it but deep down he knew he can never hate his Earth forever 😭😭

Yeah so here yuseo only meant gain without Cedric?? So that means deep down yuseo has more affection and love gain more ? Cause I always thought he loves them both equally

Is gain maybe more important in the story thank Cedric? Cause I noticed that gain has many many POV in the story meanwhile Cedric having POV is very rare 😞 especially when yuseo left for his world almost all POVs were gain's ...so does that mean like she's 2mc after yuseo ?

I Know my questions may sound stupid but I actually care and notice these things while reading😅😅 like noticing that gain had also more screen time with yuseo than Cedric in the lastest chs 😅😅 that's why that thought occured to me

Hmm I have only another question ( sorry I talk too much but this novel really took my mind these days 😭😭 so I'm thinking about all kind of stuff) ... U know that Jesse suggested to yuseo to tell the people that they share a plate and yuseo accepted but Cedric refused? But eventually I didn't understand whether they did tell people that or just said that they were twins?

Cause honestly if they did do that wouldn't making a covenant with Cedric be quiet no possible since people know that they share plate

Honestly even now I think making a covenant might be really impossible for many reasons:

1/ yuseo already goes to his world and he spends most time there (he only spends two days in reister ) and the timeline is quite different?? Like a few days in his world are many months in reister??? Wouldn't that make him absent a long time??? When they become religious companions they can't be appart from each other a long time or they suffer like Fred and Aurelie right ? So I feel like yuseo wound not accept it

2/ when he becomes religious companion he can't share his ether with others (except gain maybe cause she and ced already have a connection ) it might be a dump reason but I feel yuseo would still want to help others with his ether especially Johann and future holy knight kids (Lynn and cerise)

3/ finally even if it's one sided yuseo and Jesse do share a plate so it would make it diffecult to form covenant cause Cedric emotions and thoughts will be shared to Jesse too ? It feels like he shared his plate with the two of them

So what do u think?

Man I really wrote a whole essay 😭😭😭

I'm sorry that u have to read through all of this 🥺🥺

And thanks for your answer in advance

Hello!!! Sorry late response 😭😭 I'm assuming you probably read more chapters ahead by now and might have gotten answers to your questions yourself, but I'll still give my own insights too haha

Anyhow—Yeah! Yeseo and Ga-in do indeed get some very notable moments during the later end parts of TWSB, but I personally think that the moments between Ga-in-Yeseo and Cédric-Yeseo are both equally spread out, and both with their own respective moments to shine, and sometimes all together and in different (equally important) ways. Cédric's POVs might not be as much in comparison to Ga-in's in certain moments, but (again personally) I find that this is because Ga-in's character and personality allows for certain scenes to be viewed and conveyed in much more appropriate ways than it could be in Cédric's. Cédric's POVs are also notably... dramatic. Intense (haha). Surprisingly poetic and heartwrenching at times, but it's always an elaboration of his inward emotional state, and not as much outward action.

Cédric is the kind of character whose internal narration is better when taken in small doses, especially because his unique perspective as a Crown Prince archetype (back in the 300s, for example, it was especially interesting to see Cédric's through outsider POVs and in an environment of—not equals, like with "Prince Jesse" and Lady Christelle and their other noble friends—but of commoners and soldiers who cannot interact with him as easily). His POVs are always very emotional (sometimes despite his outward actions seeming so abrupt or sudden or even "out-of-nowhere" if you havent seen his POV), and often related to his own psyche, his internal turmoil, the way relationships affect him personally and the childhood trauma that in turn affect how he goes about life and relationships, and even more particularly, Yeseo.

But as for the moments that you are talking about (800s+), in a way, it makes sense why we get more of Ga-in's perspectives. Both she and Yeseo, after all, are transmigrators who can both relate and understand on deeper levels the dilemma of having to leave one world for the other, and the struggles that come with this very unique experience. She's also undeniably WAY MORE emotionally intelligent than Cédric in this regard, and as the eldest, the noona of the trio, I think it was especially important for Ham Ga-in to have been the one taking the lead in this very emotional goodbye and see-you-later.

Yeseo can be thought of as the glue holding the three characters together, but Ga-in's role as the understated emotional pillar is also just as important and very vital to their dynamics as a whole!!!! 🥲

In the scene of 805, I think it's noteworthy that when Cédric and Ga-in are both leading Yeseo to the Paten, "walking him home," the way the two of them do so is very indicative of the roles they play in each others' lives and in this moment. Cédric holds Yeseo's hand with his right, leaving his dominant left hand free to wield the blade—physically and visibly demonstrating the silent support that Cédric is towards and provides for Yeseo. It should be noted that in all previous situations during fights where Cédric has had to carry Yeseo over his right shoulder, he always, ALWAYS, keeps his sword arm free to both fight and defend his partners. And even when he does have to give up the sword while fleeing with Yeseo over his shoulder, he'll have Ga-in under his sword arm as a "backup weapon" haha. This has been a recurring trend throughout the story, even when it's sometimes used in comedic scenarios, but it's a characteristic of his nonetheless that even the author acknowledged in one of their A/Ns xD (604 Munpia). BUT ANYWAY BACK TO 805—in contrast, Ga-in's support extends more to just supporting him with silent and strong gestures. She constantly talks to him, reaches out, reassures him, she appeases him with words and promises, speaking on both the behalf of herself AND of Cédric. She's the spokesperson for the two of them—her wishes are also Cédric's. If Cédric didn't feel the same way, he would have spoken up (heck, he probably wouldn't have been there in the first place lmao—him growing to care for both Yeseo and Ga-in is one of the most integral parts driving the story too, after all!)

This moment is very emotional, and Ga-in is the emotional anchor keeping them all together. I definitely would NOT say that she is more important than Cédric. They are BOTH EQUALLY very very important to Yeseo, and they both demonstrate their different outward ways of caring for and supporting him 🥹 In this specific situation, however, Ga-in's emotional outspokenness naturally takes the lead and gives Yeseo the more active verbal comfort that he needs. Had she not been there, I fear Cédric would have to deal with an emotionally crumbling Yeseo all alone haha—of course, that isn't to say that Cédric would just stand there and do nothing, but this guy is HELLA internally emotional but without the proper ability to dish out comfort the way Ga-in does. He just keeps it all inward. This situation was hard for all three of them combined, but Ga-in took the reigns and gave the final push.

She's the eldest! Their noona... She has to do her best, smile, and stay strong, because one guy is too soft-hearted, and the other guy is unexpectedly soft-hearted, too, so she must be the strong one and ease the mood. That has always been our Ga-in's specialty 🥹🥲

Ga-in is Yeseo's "Earth" because she's their anchor, the one who grounds them all—"my only rock and hill", as Ga-in once said in reference to own older sister.

Thus, we have Cédric with the unstaggering physical support and strength. Then, Ga-in with her vocal reassurances and emotional support. I have a LOT to say about 805, but anyhow, I think I made my point haha. It a brilliant chapter imo, and really displays the facets of CYC's relationship and dynamics, both inward and outward. Cédric does get his own moments with Yeseo later on too:

Most notably, off the top of my head, that scene in Chapter 917 where Yeseo visits home again with Cédric tagging along, where he presents Cerise to Hyunseo like "Ta-da~ It's our baby" as if they're two newlyweds presenting their daughter to the family for the first time 😭. OH and then in 898, where Cédric snuck into the Jung apartments and clumsily tried offering Yeseo, his family, and EVEN HIS DISTANT FAMILY 😭 all titles and riches and lands just so that Yeseo could permanently become Riester citizens and stay there with him and Ga-in... (Yeseo naturally puts his foot down and refuses lmao, but he appeases Cédric's worries by saying that Riester is still his second home, and that he has no intention of leaving them behind again BUT STILL OMG 😭)

Look. You gotta understand. Ga-in and Yeseo's relationship is so so meaningful and caring and sweet, but Cédric is always on a whole other level. This guy is so crazy about Yeseo, he's just disguising it under a stoic handsome face LMAO...

YEAH OML ANYWAY. NOW FOR THE HOLY PLEDGE/PLATE QUESTION—

For Pledge Concern #1, regarding the time differences between the TWSB world and the "IRL" world, if you continue reading (and I'm assume you might have? already read to that point by now since it's been a while since you sent this Ask wkdjsksk), you'll find that this issue resolves itself haha. I'm glad you took notice of this, however, because it is a concern that Yeseo HIMSELF also shares, even vocally too, back in Chapter 736 during a discussion with Jibril which started with Yeseo expressing relief that Jibril would be a good supporting figure for future-emperor Cédric (to which Jibril slapped back with basically "why would he need me when he's got you?"). Yeseo is so worried about hurting Cédric with the long-distance effects of a Covenant/Holy Pledge, but with time, this thankfully gets resolved 🥲🙌 Even the charas themselves kinda refer to his dimension-hopping being akin to something like "our family' daughter hopping to their new household (the one they married into)" LMAO. Yeseo could also leave Cédric (and perhaps Ga-in, if they go the double Pledge route) with a bunch of holy stones to soothe the soul ache, like what Frédérique and Aurélie have previously done, too.

As for Pledge Concern #2!!! Hahaha, that's a valid concern. I totally understand why you'd think Yeseo might want that, but it's also understandable why he would also choose the other. Yeseo is actually quite recipient to the idea of forming a Holy Pledge with Cédric—or at the very least, officially accepting the man's Covenant proposal and becoming his Religious Companion—but the only thing that held him back was the concern of the universal distances causing him pain. But with that now out of the way, suffice to say, there's now plenty of reason for Yeseo to no longer postpone the proposal. I feel I should also bring back Juliette/Julite Statia, who, historically, has been one of the (if not the only) recorded Priests to have supplied ether to two Holy Knights at once. Ga-in even referenced Julite's circumstances wayyy back in early-TWSB before the Holy See, and now that Yeseo is pretty much the Pope with Paten as his Plate/Vessel, we can assume that a double-Holy Pledge is on the table of possibilities (not to mention Cédric and Christelle's funky little soul bond haha).

As for him supplying ether to others, again, that's very valid. Yeseo is the type that likes to help others when he can. But also, I think he is also capable of trusting their other reliable priest friends, even more so when the war is over. Johann has (his future-daughter-in-law~) Eva and even our dear Priest Sand; Cornelisse has Isle; and Lynn and Cerise are young kids who would probably find their own intimate connections with priest companions of their own, once they grow up, too. After all, they can't rely on Mama Yeseo forever hehe (but the image is very sweet and tempting... maybe Yeseo will hold off the Holy Pledge just to nurse baby Cerise and little Lynn for a bit longer xDDD). But anyhow, it makes more sense for them to eventually find their own Religious Partners later (especially for Cerise Riester, who is actual Imperial Royalty).

As for your Pledge/Plate Concern #3, I remember I answered a similar thing on discord, so I'll just largely reiterate my response for there unto here haha:

The Plate-sharing between Yeseo and Losna is said to be one-way, as Yeseo's original plate was given to Losna upon his resuscitation, while the Paten in turn became Yeseo's. So while it's true that Yeseo's emotions and memories have been transferred to Losna, Yeseo doesn't get anything from Losna—so in terms of a Covenant, Cédric would probably be fusing his plate with YESEO'S PATEN, instead of his original Plate (which is now within Losna). So the ether sharing would be respectively between Cédric and Yeseo's Plates/Paten, and their souls would be connected from that point.

We can also naturally assume that Losna would still be able to feel Yeseo's emotions since he's the owner of Yeseo's Plate, but whether or not he could feel Cédric's is more ambiguous, but here is what I take from the affair:

1.) Losna owning Yeseo's Plate = Feeling Yeseo's emotions and having his memories.

2.) Cédric forming a Covenant with Yeseo's Paten Plate = Merging ether reservoirs and souls, thus knowing how the other feels (and to an extent, how they think).

—SO, WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?

Losna, who has Yeseo's Plate but not the PATEN plate, would still feel Yeseo. It's one-sided on Losna➡️Yeseo's part, and so perhaps Losna's indirect link to Cédric (who would be linked to Yeseo) would ALSO be onesided. He could feel what YESEO feels, but not what Cédric feels.

And re:Twins and Plate sharing—while Yeseo was fine with it, Cédric didn't like the sound/implications of selling the story as "Losna and Yeseo share a Plate" LMAO, so in the end, what happens is that the Frédérique ordered the Palace (or rather Bérénice haha) to basically fabricate a whole mythos surrounding Yeseo and Losna's origins as "twins" to sell to the public. One who was born with divinity, one born with mortality. There's a LOT to say about TWSB's use of religion and (fictional) religious propaganda throughout the series, but I won't get into much detail there haha. But just know that I think about it a lot, and again, I love love love how much politics and religion play a part in TWSB. It makes the world of kingdoms, empires, aristocracy and the everyman feel very real.

But anyhow, I don't believe Yeseo forming a Holy Pledge with anyone will cause any issues with Losna, too.

THOUGH!!! On Munpia, Sookym has finally released information on the Side Stories (WHICH IS COMING OUT THIS JANUARY‼️‼️‼️🥹🥹🥳), so perhaps we'll see a glimpse into the aftermath and how Religious Companionship is faring for Yeseo and friends!! I'll personally be totally fine with the story as is ending the way it did and with a lot up for natural interpretation because there are also a lot of other storylines and characters to explore even more in depth to hehe. But I'll probably be happy with whatever Sookym cooks 🥹 Maybe we can even hope for more modern setting shenanigans... who knows!!!

Anyhow, yeah!!! I hope this helped answer any questions or concerns!! Sorry for the late response haha, the questions that take longer answers generally require more energy on my part (both to gather my thoughts, to do some re-reading and research to avoid accidentally spreading misinfo 😭, as well as just writing out everything WKWKKWKW)

Again, I'm assuming you probably(?) finished reading TWSB till the end already, and I hope you enjoyed/are enjoying the rest of their journey!!! I hope you (and whomever might be reading this haha) tunes in for whenever the Side Stories come out in January!!!! 🙌🙌

#twsb #twsb asks #twsb analysis #twsb spoilers #as always every PLS rest assured #both Ga-in AND Cédric get their own shining heartfelt moments with Yeseo (and all 3 together 🥹🫡)#never doubt the power of TWSB's qpr bi4bi agenda 🙏#asks

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chahnniesroom · 2 years ago

Text

tenderness | chapter 3: inevitable

[noun] /ˈtendərnəs/

1. the quality of being gentle, kind, or loving

2. the feeling of pain, aching, or soreness

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: in a world where soulmates are rare and precious, you don’t know why the universe has decided to give you one. you never could have imagined that they would be an idol, and one that you worked with at that, or the challenges that would arise from your bond.

chapter word count: 3.5k

chapter warnings: arguing, implied that reader doesn't have a good relationship with her family

a/n: this is the first chapter with mixed pov! time to see some things from chan's perspective :)

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter | read it on ao3

The first time that you had watched Channie's Room in person, it was an accident. You had had dinner with Chan and lost track of time until a reminder had popped up on his phone. You had started cleaning up all your things when he had shyly suggested that you stay and watch. Technically, Chan doesn’t need any staff with him as he does Channie’s Room, but occasionally if they were being done in his studio then someone would sit in. After so many episodes, he’s trusted enough to know what he can and can’t do on stream and he doesn’t require any technical support.

It was fun for you, watching him interact with Stays and enjoy music. These streams were fanservice, but you knew Chan well enough by now to be able to tell that he was genuinely enjoying himself. After his customary sign-off and making sure that the stream was actually over, he had turned to you and asked what you thought. You had told the truth, that you liked being able to see this side of him, and that since he was clearly enjoying himself, you enjoyed watching too. It was different to be in-person and you had to make sure that you didn’t laugh at any of Chan’s reactions or the comments that were sent in, especially when he read out a few cheesy pick up lines and quickly glanced over to where you sat.

You weren’t sure if your presence made a difference for him- he had only looked at you a couple times during the stream- so you figured that it’d be a one time thing. But the next week when you were at your desk, you got a text.

[8:14pm - received]

Hey Y/n

I’m planning on doing Channie’s Room in 15 min

[8:14pm - sent]

okay! Have fun :)

[8:15pm - received]

Want to come watch? No pressure if you’re busy though haha

[8:15 - sent]

Oh! Sure, I’ll be down in a second!!

It had gone about the same as the first time. You didn’t say anything and he didn’t acknowledge you during the hour and a half that he was live for. Still, every week you would get a text and every week you find yourself in a chair in the corner of his studio, carefully out of sight from the camera.

—

This Sunday is similar to every other, you have the stream pulled up on your phone with the sound turned off, watching as the comments fly past. He’s eating dinner, even though it’s well past the time that you would consider to be acceptable for dinner. You catch yourself smiling at how excited he is for each bite and have to school your expression in case he happens to look over.

A notification pops up overtop of the video and you freeze.

You come back to yourself when Chan calls out your name. When you blink, you’re still looking at your phone, but the video is blank. The stream is over and you didn’t even realise.

“Y/n, is everything okay?”

“Oh nothing, just saw a weird comment and it caught me off guard,” you laugh.

“What did it say?” Chan asks, instantly concerned.

“Nothing, it’s not important. It wasn’t even anything, I promise.”

And really, it’re true. It was just a text with a date and time. After all, how could you say that it was a text from your eomoni that caused such a strong reaction? It would just lead to more and more questions and you’s not in the mood to deal with that. You know you'll have to bring up your family with Chan eventually, but you don’t know how he’ll react and you don’t know what you’d say anyway.

For now, you paste on a smile and promise that you’ll tell him tomorrow when the time is right.

—

A couple weeks later, it was a rare evening that all the members plus yourself were available to have dinner at the dorms. Minho had taken advantage of an afternoon free of schedules and used the time to prepare a feast of bossam, kimchi jjigae, dubu jorim, as well as a spread of banchan.

Eventually the topic shifts from work related to the upcoming time off they had for Chuseok. They go around the table, sharing their plans, even though everybody knew what to expect. You had talked to most of the boys beforehand and knew they were going to visit their families, while Chan and Felix were keeping each other company at the dorms. By extension, that meant you were also going to be staying at the dorms, something you were more than happy to do.

When the conversation makes it around to you, you are somewhat preoccupied with scooping some more rice and tofu into your bowl. Felix playfully nudges both you and Chan while asking, “Any special plans, you two?”

“Nothing,” Chan replies at the exact same time that you grimace and say, “dinner with my family.”

The whole table stills as the boys look between the two of you and Chan noticeably stiffens. They've never heard the conversations you've had with Chan about meeting your parents, but the lack of information you've shared with them is likely telling enough.

You determinedly mash together everything in your bowl, trying to ignore the stares from everyone and the way your cheeks are heating up.

"We celebrate Chuseok together every year. I'm- I'm required to attend," you mutter into your food.

"That sounds nice. You don't see them often, right?" Felix says cautiously, breaking the tense silence that has settled over the table.

"I-" Before you can finish, Chan abruptly stands up, pushing his chair away from the table. He heads straight toward the door, slinging a coat over his shoulders and shoving his feet into shoes.

"I'm going to the studio." Is the only explanation he gives before the door is swinging shut behind him.

Your knuckles turn white around the handle of your spoon. The braised tofu in your bowl has been turned to paste and though it smelled good a few minutes ago, your appetite has vanished.

You knew that your Chuseok plans would eventually have to be brought up, but you had been dreading it. Even if you had never mentioned anything, it sat as a heavy weight on your shoulders for the past few days. You had spent hours trying to think of the right things to say, but had never built up the courage to talk to him. You knew he really valued family connections in a way that you never would. Chan's curiosity about your family paired with his close relationship with his own had left a bitter taste in your mouth that prevented you from speaking up any time the two of you were alone. You had hoped that it wouldn’t be a big deal, but clearly that wasn’t the case.

You definitely regretted it now. Practically anything would have been better than him finding out in front of the rest of the members because you had absent-mindedly spoken.

You close your eyes for a second before also rising from the table.

"I'll go after him," you say breathlessly. "I'm sorry for… that. I should have talked to him before. I- I'm sorry. Thank you for dinner, Minho-ssi. Sorry."

You bow quickly to avoid making eye contact with anybody and quickly gather your bowl and utensils. Chan had left his phone on the table in his rush to leave, so you grab that too and pocket it. Once you put everything down on the counter, you stand over the sink and massage your forehead. You really didn't want to have to talk to Chan, but knew he was like you and would be stuck in his head if left alone for too long.

You can hear the boys starting to talk to each other in low voices and that is enough for you to force yourself towards the door.

—

When you finally make it to Chan's studio and inch open the door, he's already on his laptop with his headphones on. Either he doesn't notice your entry or is trying to ignore it, but he's not actively working on anything, just staring blankly at an unfinished track.

When you say his name, he startles and jerks his arm, making his cursor skitter across his computer screen.

He half pulls off his headphones while turning towards you, but pauses when he recognizes who's at the door.

"I'm sorry," you say immediately, stepping further into the room. "I-"

"I don't want to talk right now." Chan cuts you off, shaking his head and turning back to his laptop to continue glaring at the track he has open.

You don't know what to do, so you edge back towards the exit. You're just reaching for the handle when he calls out.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" He's still not looking at you, fists clenched and his whole body tense. "Or was I just supposed to find out on the day of the dinner?"

"I was!" you say defensively. "Of course I was going to tell you! I've been meaning to for days, just haven't… haven't gotten around to it."

Chan swivels around and impatiently gestures towards his couch and you quickly take a seat, acutely aware that this puts you directly in front of him.

"Just tell me? No invitation? Not even going to give me a choice to say if I want to go?" he presses. You shrink into yourself as he continues on, not even giving you time to respond. "I introduced you to my family, even though they're in Australia. You met my sister in person! I don’t know a thing about your family other than that you have one. Do your parents even know about me?"

"They know," you say in a small voice, but don’t elaborate further. Chan doesn't look satisfied by your response, frustratedly running a hand through his hair. He blows out an angry breath and his posture suddenly deflates.

"I just- I don't get it. Is it me? Are you embarrassed to introduce me to your parents?" Chan asks, sounding defeated.

"It's not you-"

"I just don’t understand. Is it because- I know that being an idol is unconventional, but-"

“No, it’s not that,” you interrupt before he can spiral further.

“Then… why?”

"It's not- Chan-oppa, there's nothing wrong with you. Or you being an idol. You're fine. You're perfect. It's me," you say miserably, voice hoarse, "I just, I didn't- I don’t want you to have to see the kind of person I am when I'm with them. I don't like how I am, who I am when I'm around my family."

You bury your face into your hands and swallow hard to try and remove the lump that has formed in your throat. When Chan settles beside you on the couch and wraps an arm around your shoulders, you soften, both at his presence and the warm buzz of the charge.

"I'm sorry," he says gently. "I shouldn't have pushed so much."

"No, I should have told you," you reply, voice muffled by your hands. "I knew I had to tell you."

His hands enclose around your wrists and carefully pry them away from your face. When you open your eyes, you see that he has leaned forwards to try to look at you better.

“I just want to get to know you better. I want to get to know your family, your background. Please, let me in.” He looks so young like this, earnestly looking at you.

In response, you tip forward and rest your forehead on his shoulder. Although you normally avoid skinship like this, especially at the company, anything was better than seeing his concerned but confused expression. You want to tell him everything, but how can you explain the twisted and complicated relationship that you have with your family? What words could describe the facade that you have created to pretend you're not affected by their disappointment?

"I promise, I'll tell you everything eventually. I just need some more time, okay?" you ask hesitantly. Chan agrees immediately. "I want to talk to the boys too. I know they must also have questions. Can we? Have a meeting tonight?"

—

Y/n decides that she wants to tell the group all at once to avoid having to repeat herself and Chan is secretly relieved. It’s not that he doesn’t like one-on-one conversations, but he hopes that the rambunctious nature of the other members lightens the mood. He’s looking forward to getting any information he can about Y/n’s family, his not-so-subtle attempts to learn even a little bit about them have been fruitless thus far.

As Chan and Y/n make their way back to the dorms, he texts the group chat to gather in the living room. By the time they make it back, everyone has crammed themselves on the couches, leaving an empty space on the loveseat for the two of them.

Y/n takes a deep breath to steady herself.

When she says her parents’ names, Chan doesn't recognize either, but Changbin's head immediately shoots up and he lets out an "Oh shh-" that's quickly cut off by a well placed elbow of Minho. Y/n makes a face at that.

"Yeah," she says, clearly unsurprised by Changbin's reaction, but resigned. On the other side of Minho, Jisung speaks up.

"I don't get it, is he famous?" He also receives an elbow to the stomach, to which he whines, "Hyunggg, that hurt!"

“Be sensitive.” Minho scolds. Y/n laughs at that, but there’s no humour in the sound.

“No, it’s okay. I get that you guys are curious,” she says. “My parents aren’t famous, but they are well known in some circles. You guys know the hospital that Hyunjin goes to for check-ups of his hand?”

Everyone nods at that. Even Felix is familiar with that hospital, as he’s gotten treatment there when he injured his back. Chan himself has visited a few times regarding various injuries or procedures. The hospital is large, fairly new, but most importantly, has a reputation for being discrete. It’s definitely a favourite for idols who don’t want to take the chance and be photographed or have personal information shared.

“Your parents are doctors?” Seungmin prompts.

“My abeoji is. My brother too,” Y/n confirms. “But he also… My abeoji owns the hospital.” She looks down at her hands as she says it, as if scared to see what the reactions of everyone will be. Chan feels like his brain is short circuiting and can't get himself to do anything but stare.

"Noona, does that mean you're loaded?" Jisung asks, eyes wide. Minho immediately turns on him, but Y/n shocks them all by laughing loudly at that.

"I wouldn't say I'm loaded. My parents definitely are though."

“That’s awesome! What’s wrong with that then?”

“Well, you know how Asian parents are. They had certain expectations for me, for my future that I didn’t meet. They didn’t exactly approve of me deciding to go into the entertainment industry, so we’re… not close. I see them twice a year, Seollal and Chuseok.”

Chan can sympathise with that, although his parents have always been supportive of him, even when he was a trainee and they were worried or didn’t understand why he never gave up, a lot of families weren’t the same.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Felix says. He stands and pulls Y/n into a tight hug, which she melts into. It soon becomes a group huddle as everyone joins in, surrounding Y/n in love.

“We’ll be your family, Y/n,” Chan promises, and everyone else murmurs their agreement. He pretends not to see the tears that gather in the corners of Y/n’s eyes.

—

A couple days after Y/n’s announcement, Changbin knocks on Chan's studio door.

"Hey," he says when Chan rolls over on his chair and opens the door. "Just wanted to talk to you about Chuseok."

"Okay," Chan says slowly. "What about it?"

“Are you going to Y/n’s family dinner?”

“Yeah, that’s the plan.”

"What are you planning to wear?" Changbin asks bluntly.

"Uhh." Even though Chuseok has basically sat in the back of Chan’s mind for the past few days, haunting him every time he has two seconds to think, he hadn’t even considered that aspect of it. He’s been too occupied worrying constantly about not knowing what to expect and yet not wanting to talk to Y/n about it. "I don't know, something nice?"

"Yeah, you have about 10 outfits, all of them are black, and almost half of them are hoodies. Do you know what Y/n is wearing?" Chan grimaces at that.

"I didn't even know that she was going until a few days ago man, of course I don't know what she's wearing."

"Listen, hyung. Her family… I don't know them personally, but I think you need to either talk to her about it or make arrangements to borrow clothes from a stylist."

"Borrow clothes from a stylist?" Chan laughs incredulously. "Can't I just buy something myself?"

"I mean you can do whatever you want," Changbin says, putting his hands up in surrender. "Be my guest to buy designer brand formal wear that I'm pretty sure you'll only wear once since you'll have to have something else for the next time you see them."

“Designer formal wear?” Chan repeats. “What am I, going to a wedding? This is a dinner with just her immediate family, do you really think they would care that much?”

“I don’t know for sure, but I just think that they’d be the type to really value appearances. Clothing is one part of that. Just… Talk to Y/n, okay? I want things to go well for you and I know that you want to make a good first impression.”

“I- okay,” Chan acquiesces. He trusts that Changbin’s just coming from a good place even though he dreads having to talk to Y/n about this. “I’ll bring it up.”

—

A week before Chuseok, Y/n knocks on their bedroom door while Chan’s trying to work at his desk. By the time he’s taken off his headphones and has started standing, she’s managed to get the door open and enters. Even after his conversation with Changbin, Chan still hasn’t been able to broach the topic of Chuseok with Y/n again, even though it’s been occupying his mind an increasing amount. He feels a rush of relief when he sees that she’s carrying two garment bags, lifted above her head to prevent them from dragging on the ground.

“This is for you,” she says, thrusting the larger of the bags in Chan’s direction. He peels it open carefully to find a black suit with golden details embroidered into it. The jacket is more traditional, the design is clearly a modern version of a hanbok, and the fabric of all the pieces look luxuriously thick. Without even trying it on, he can tell that the outfit has been tailored to his dimensions. It’s beautiful.

“Is this for-”

“Chuseok? Yes. My eomoni is… particular about what people wear. You’ll look good in this.” Y/n assures him.

“What are you wearing?” he asks, curious about the second bag that Y/n had hung up while he was inspecting his.

“You’ll find out later. Don’t worry, I won’t be outshining you.” she replies playfully.

“Hey!” Chan laughs. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I know, it’s just fun to tease.”

Chan carefully places the clothes back into the garment bag and zips it up to hang in his closet. He’s dealt with his fair share of expensive clothes, most of which have to be treated with extreme caution as they have to be returned at the end of the day, but this feels different. Not only is it now his to keep, but it’s also one of the first gifts that he’s exchanged with Y/n, giving it special significance.

He knows this gift is more than just clothes. It also represents Y/n opening up, letting him into this side of her life that she’s kept to herself for so long.

“Y/n,” he says, waiting until she makes eye contact. “Thank you.”

“No worries,” she says, cheeks pinkening. She looks down at the ground. “It’s the least I can do, you’re going to have to put up with my family for an evening.”

Chan doesn’t know what to make of finally meeting them, Y/n’s mentions of them have been sporadic and cryptic at best. He’s desperate to learn more about her and he knows that her family, although distant now, likely played a key role in the way that you conduct yourself. But over time, and especially these past few days, he’s growing more wary of what he might learn. He just can’t understand how someone as kind, soft, and thoughtful as Y/n could have such a stilted relationship with her family.

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captain-joongz · 5 months ago

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Abraxas; Act 1, Chapter 3 Part 1

Pairing: mafia boss!Min Yoongi x police office!reader

Genre: enemies to lovers, humour, angst, investigation themes, dark themes, eventual smut, slowburn, some fluff

Chapter summary: The summer brings a new challenge - and a new moral failing, it seems. And while Yoongi certainly seems happy to lurk and wait for his opportunity, Minjoon is quite adamant about solving the tension.

Chapter word count: 21.9k words

Warnings: i mean, not much haha, the mc has like three breakdowns every day, some crime happening, yoongi being a menace

Previous part | Series masterlist | Next part

A/N: okaayyyy, so the first part of the summer chapter is here darlings, and while it is important, it's actually just a bridge to the real shit that's going down in the next chapter haha, so you have that to look forward to! enjoy the read and do let me know what you think! <3

Summer, first year in the force

I sighed, eyes red and watery from staring at my screen for hours already, and clicked on yet another online article about Yoongi’s involvement in some charity event, donating a truckload of money and being hailed as the modern day warrior of justice, scoffing at the ridiculous attempt to hide any links he had to the underworld.

It’s been six days. Six days since I last saw Yoongi, six days since Seungcheol called me panicked that he was last-minute called away to Busan to help with a case related to a possible serial killer they’ve been working on before, therefore he couldn’t make it to our Monday morning debrief, and I’d have to wait for his return or start by myself. Six days since Minjoon left my apartment at 3 AM, both of us guilty yet satisfied. Six days since we spoke properly.

Six days I spent back at my desk, back at square one, and desperately grasping at any straws to take at Hoseok and Jungkook, since I was hesitant to tail them without Yoongi between us as buffer. After all, to them it would be less hassle to kill me without his permission and then grovel to get back into his good graces. I was as expendable as they got.

I tried googling the seven men, but didn’t find anything much interesting. Namjoon won a few gold medals back in high school, so he was probably the kid that always participated in all the competitions. Taehyung was mentioned a few times when he opened new clubs, though there were two very interesting articles about a murder that happened at a seedy bar that fell under him. It went nowhere, but it was interesting to see.

Jimin was mentioned only a few times in fashion related articles when he flitted around fashion shows or partied with models, nothing except for his exceptional charm and charisma mentioned.

Seokjin by the nature of his pedigreed upbringing cropped up quite a few times – mentioned in articles about his family and their legacy, all prestigious successful doctors and lawyers, an old family with ties to old aristocracy. He also won some competitions, archery among them, and he was mentioned in an article about saving a man’s life, but nothing that linked him to anything uncouth.

Jungkook had none. Hoseok had a single one – when his fighting ring was busted and he ended up in a holding cell for three days before getting released, bond paid by Mr. Kim and Mr. Min, back then two unknown names, now giants towering over all of us.

The two that stood at the beginning of it all.

Yoongi himself had a barrage of articles about him, so many in fact that I quickly got tired of going through all of them. Most were from the last few years, when he was already sucking up to the higher class and fighting his way to belong with all the young, spoiled chaebols, who really made the best kind of clientele for him.

There were three articles from when he was about eighteen or so, detailing some petty crimes he got busted for and spent six months in jail, and the only reason he was mentioned at all was purely by association to his boss who was the actual target of the raid.

Except for Namjoon and Seokjin, none of the men were mentioned before they hit adulthood, and I had a sneaking suspicion it was due to the protection of privacy of minors law. When I pulled their records, I hit a few obstacles there as well – all of the reports about juvenile crimes got sealed and courts rarely gave permission to unseal them. So what was happening before then, we could only guess.

That didn’t stop me from my sleuthing though.

I had to remind myself periodically that this wasn’t about Yoongi. No matter how much the man occupied my thoughts, awake or not, night or day, he wasn’t my current target.

So, once again, I went through the information available for Jungkook and Hoseok, this time more diligently, comparing it to things I was already able to deduce.

Both men still had their addresses set to their home cities – Hoseok in Gwangju and Jungkook in Busan. A quick search revealed what no doubt were the houses they were born in and at least to a certain point grew up in, but it quite clearly wasn’t where they resided currently.

Namjoon had a little flat close to the office he spent most of his time in, and Taehyung and Jimin according to the records lived together. Seokjin’s and Yoongi’s addresses were clear. The only address associated with Jungkook was his security company, and Hoseok didn’t even give me that luxury, as elusive as ever.

If I had to guess, Jungkook probably lived with the other two youngsters and Hoseok definitely slept hanging upside down from a cave ceiling like a bat.

Currently my best bet was to stake out Jungkook’s office building and see whether I see him around a suspicious amount.

A movement caught my eye and I looked up from mindlessly scrolling through news reports in time to see Minjoon carefully slinking towards my table, unsure and awkward. I straightened and gave him a polite smile, taking all the wild emotions trying to burst out and stuffing them back into my chest, back into that little closet where they belonged, where they caused no havoc. Right next to Yoongi’s dark eyes, warm form and spicy scent from last Friday.

“Park’s bringing Namjoon in,” Minjoon informed me, keeping his voice steady and matter-of-fact, nodding my way when I thanked him. I had completely missed Park even leaving, too engrossed in my little corner of shame and regrettable choices. To be completely honest, what the rest of the team did in the past few months, unit leader included, I wasn’t too sure about. My tasks ate all of my time and attention, and it was easy to forget that others actually still continued with their jobs as well.

Without thinking I stood up and followed the fellow detective back to his table, leaning on the side that would allow me to keep an eye on the entrance, and tried to pretend I didn’t see how Minjoon looked at me with eyes swirling with hope.

“What is he bringing him in for this time?” I enquired casually, fingers instinctively going to play with the edge of my t-shirt, “I didn’t even know we made enough progress to question him again.”

Minjoon hummed, making it a point to look straight at me with a small smirk, growing more comfortable with each second I spent sitting by his side again. I fought my own amused grin off, but my lips still twitched and his eyes jumped down and back up, grin spreading wider.

“Well, I think it’s more or less the same as last time,” the man finally answered, leaning back into his chair leisurely, “a mix of psychological warfare and an attempt to annoy Yoongi.” I chuckled at that, knowing all too well how that usually went, before promptly freezing, the smile slipping off of my face lightning quick.

Like last time. When I met them for the first time. Already half a year ago, when I was still a nobody that didn’t even talk to anyone in this unit. When Park dragged Namjoon in and in just over two hours Yoongi was storming in to get him. The night I made the first of a long series of bad decisions that led me all the way down here. Yoongi’s going to come here.

“I don’t think he really even has anything, I mean, the informant did bring in some interesting info, but it’s not much,” Minjoon continued happily, “It’s actually annoying how well everything matches up in their finances. We’ve already wasted one warrant and found literally nothing, and the judge is done with our bullshit.”

“What do you mean?” I frowned, never having heard of this before. Minjoon sighed and leaned forward on the table, propping his head on his hand.

“We fucking know that Yoongi’s doing something illegal with his finances, but the fucker manages to make it all look so legit, it’s bulletproof,” the man complained, grimacing with disgust, “we managed to get a warrant to go through his finances after catching him with some other known names in the game, made a whole spectacle of it. We were absolutely sure we were going to bust him for something, but his records were squeaky clean. Namjoon might be a criminal, but he clearly is a genius. The most we found out was that Yoongi drinks dangerous amounts of coffee from a little café near his office.”

I hummed, but my mind was already somewhere else. In the background Minjoon continued grumbling, but I was experiencing something I could only call an epiphany.

Financial records. Of fucking course. The one thing they’ve been focusing on since I came here, I thought I would get around it by doing it more old-school by focusing on the unofficial stuff, but really. What better way to find out what a person does and where they spend most of their time than bank statements?

“Hey Y/N, I was thinking...” Minjoon’s voice filtered back, but I was already pushing myself off of his table, going through my mental catalogue of all the information I had on the Min gang. I turned quickly on my heel, startling the man into silence, and gave him a quick professional smile.

“Sorry Min, I just remembered I needed to look up something for the Moon case, talk to you later?” since I was walking backwards to my table, Minjoon just awkwardly smiled as well, hand abortedly waving in the air in a half wave gesture.

The moment I crashed back into my chair, I was pulling up the database for one Jung Hoseok, scrolling through endless arrest reports, victim statements and court records, painting the whole picture of the kind of violence this man was capable of. I was frantically searching for at least a single confirmation of my assumption – that they all most likely used the same bank.

It took a while, I did have to read through several different court documents outlining violent assaults, but finally I managed to stumble upon a settlement he paid to a guy he beat up in one of Taehyung’s clubs, where bank information was mentioned – and bingo. KEB Hana Bank. The same as Yoongi and Namjoon.

So that now meant I was facing two new problems (awesome) – I would need a warrant I’d never get, and Hana Bank was known for having an impenetrable wall of lawyers and putting them between their clients and anything that could hurt their money, police included. Even with a warrant it would be hard to breach their defences, that’s why rich bastards usually chose them. Client above anything.

If their finances looked as clean and proper as Minjoon said, it’s highly improbable I’d be able to find enough to get that endlessly sought after warrant, plus as was established – someone in the prosecutor's office was paid off by the man. He’d not only get warned, but they’d also most likely shoot any attempts down.

Not even with an esteemed hacker I could get in those statements. Shit. Fuck.

Shamelessly I walked back over to Minjoon’s table, the man curiously looking up as soon as he noticed my absent-minded approach. There was a small smile already playing on his lips and he leaned back, probably very aware of what would come next.

“Minjoon, is there any other way to-“

“Get someone’s bank records without a warrant?” the man jumped in, shocking me into a wide-eyed stare, “Yeah, there is.” He was smirking at me cheekily from his chair, all relaxed into the backrest, eyes beckoning me to continue speaking.

Instead, I playfully narrowed my eyes, a grin tugging at my lips while I dragged over a chair from the neighbouring table and sat down heavily with a thud, putting the backrest to the front and leaning on it. I saw his eyes flick down minutely before he looked back to me, and the air between us crackled.

Shit, there was the tension again.

“What, are you side-hustling in fortune telling?” I teased, leaning forward just slightly, just enough to draw the man’s attention to my lips forming into a smirk. He did look, of course, for a second getting lost to his own thoughts before the topic of the conversation resurfaced in his mind and he looked back to my eyes.

“It wasn’t that hard to guess, given the fact you mentally checked out of the conversation the moment I mentioned that,” the teasing sounded very smug from him, and I could tell he wasn’t done just yet, “it also helped that you were mumbling financial records as you walked away.” I physically felt my face burst into flames, cheeks rapidly getting consumed by red as I spluttered for a moment, not really knowing how to respond.

“Okay, let’s leave that behind for now,” I quickly got out, cutting through the detective’s amused laughter as I attempted to school my features and look my part as a hardened police officer, “So, is there a way?” It took a moment for Minjoon to stop his chuckles, and the several slaps I administered to his shoulder definitely didn’t help, but finally he seemed to give up on this and actually answer.

“Yeah, but you can forget about it,” he said good-naturedly, “you’d have to get their written consent to look.” The way my face fell and I sunk back into seriousness wasn’t lost on the man and he immediately matched my mood, a more sombre expression settling onto his face. His fingers started up a nervous little tapping rhythm at the edge of the table and I watched them for a moment.

I hummed. I had no idea what I was doing. I needed those statements. Everything was so muddled.

Well, clearly I wouldn’t be getting that from Jung fucking Hoseok. So… how does one swindle a swindler?

With a big sigh I stood up. “Thanks Min, I’ll think of how to get that warrant,” I told him dejectedly, pulling my lips down into a frown and patting him on the shoulder. I could almost see Yoongi’s amused proud smirk, and I hated that. The police officer was obviously confused by my sudden mood changes but let me go back to my table with an easy smile, hand squeezing my wrist in reassurement.

I was lying to him.

Fuck. Back here we were. I pushed all the thoughts of Yoongi away, pushed away his teasing voice whispering taunts in my head and sat down back to my computer.

There was no getting a fucking warrant, who was I trying to fucking kid? I had to get that consent off of him, no matter how. And legally, there was no way. So, how does one forge official documents? Time to find out.

The same second I desolately looked to my monitor, the door flew open and Park charged in, a terrible déjà vu gripping me as Namjoon got dragged behind, two officers holding each of his arms and speeding through the office towards the back rooms.

Much like last time, he looked completely unperturbed, like he was just taking a walk through the park, like the officers were nothing more than annoying flies buzzing around him and he was simply mildly inconvenienced, not a hair out of place. But this time, he looked at me and smirked. For a moment I was shocked, a terrible feeling like he knew what I was planning from a single glance gripping me, before I turned away and hid my shame.

I told myself that it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter how many laws I broke as long as I brought him down, nothing I did could be worse than what they were already doing.

And it did feel more like a lie every time I tried to make myself believe it.

“Are you going to finish that?”

Yoongi’s voice cut through the blankness of my mind and I realised I had been just sitting there and staring dumbly somewhere slightly above his shoulder, fork hanging limply from my hand. There was a really annoying grin on his face as he pointed towards my half-finished pasta, a nervous looking waiter hovering by his side.

Instinctually my fingers tightened around the rim of the bowl and I fastened a polite smile to my face to quickly shake my head at the waiter. He didn’t linger for a second longer, immediately bowing and high-tailing it out of there.

I felt Yoongi’s eyes burning holes into the side of my face as I started shovelling the rest of my food in my mouth. I hated to admit it, but it really was quite delicious.

“I was just thinking about how inappropriately dressed I am for this place,” I muttered in between bites, washing everything down with coke that Yoongi so graciously let me order instead of a matching wine. The man in question just scoffed and grabbed his own glass from the table.

“Doesn’t matter, you’re sitting with me,” the black-haired man said, smirk colouring his voice into smugness, “Nobody dares to judge.” This time it was my time to scoff at him, and I rolled my eyes so hard there was no way he missed that.

“Humble, are we?” My voice was lacking its usual bite, and I wondered whether he realised that.

“Darling, we’re literally sitting in my restaurant,” he shot back immediately, clearly in his shit-stirer mood. And he was right as well, that was what pissed me off the most.

We were sitting in the Black Swan, the restaurant in the lobby of his fancy schmancy hotel. I was caught by Jungkook while suspiciously loitering around his car and he flew over like a cartoon cat with its ass on fire, prepared to defend his car from my dirty parking-tickets-distributing hands, but that time I wasn’t intending to do that. It was purely a coincidence, not that Jungkook believed me.

In an attempt to break us up before our squabbling got too annoying to listen to, Yoongi came over and invited me inside, which I accepted just to spite Jungkook. Now I found myself here, sitting across a private lounge from the man, the restaurant buzzing with life to our side and the young man staring daggers into me from across the room.

“So, officer, what are your plans for the summer?” Yoongi revived the conversation, doing some heavy lifting today. Ever since I came to the resolution to falsify legal documents, I hadn’t been much in a mood. Minjoon tried as hard as he could to bring my spirits up, bless his heart, but he probably assumed I was being icy because of the whole ‘you shouldn’t fuck your colleagues’ thing, which funnily enough currently was the least of my problems. Cheol was still away and the files lying on my table were collecting dust, my first big case starting off with a crime.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I grumbled back, moving on from the pasta to the little salad that was brought to me as a side-dish. Yoongi peered over the edge of his wine glass at me, eyes filled with uncharacteristically soft-edged entertainment, and I did my best to pretend we were still at odds with each other, and not sharing a suspiciously normal lunch together.

“Well yes, that’s why I asked,” the man replied smartly and I rolled my eyes at him again, “I wouldn’t want my favourite policeman to suddenly disappear again. I’d miss you too much.” His voice tampered off into something deeper, huskier, towards the end, pulling the rug from under my feet once again with these pesky complicated swirls of emotions I tried to persuade myself I didn’t care enough about to dissect. The bastard was probably having the time of his life teasing me like that, I was just being weird about it.

“How’s Hoseok?” I chanced a cheeky change of conversation, hoping I’d be able to play it off as a joke about our last meeting, and he wouldn’t know that I was currently quite literally losing my mind because of that man. Yoongi tsked at me, leaning back into the cream-coloured chair.

“Still too busy running after my friends?” he teased, “I don’t consider myself a jealous man, but you should be careful lest you hurt my feelings.” Mischief swirled through his eyes together with something harder, much less kind. Stay away, his gaze screamed, or trouble will catch you.

A little too late for that Yoongles, I’m afraid.

“Unfortunately, from a police officer’s standpoint your friends are what’s most interesting about you,” I shot back immediately, feeling no need to keep the suspension.

Yoongi didn’t say anything to that, only watched me with sharp gaze and hummed, taking a gentle sip from his glass.

“Then how about we play a game?” I blurted out suddenly, surprisingly myself as well as the dark-haired man. It was almost time for me to return to the station, but I was feeling reckless enough for a little gamble. I got Yoongi’s attention immediately though, and at the end of the day, that’s all that mattered. He simply gestured for me to continue, but his eyes sparkled under the artificial lighting of the restaurant.

“If you answer one of my questions truthfully, you get to ask me something back and I’ll answer too.”

It was plain stupidity. All he had to do was ask me about something concerning to official investigation and I’d be done, either unable to answer and losing my opportunity, or forced to spill important secrets. The risks were immense, and depending on Yoongi’s attitude there didn’t even have to be that good of a reward. And really, I couldn’t even find it in myself to think up an appropriate excuse.

“How interesting,” the man purred, not even trying to hide his excitement and I did all I could to sit still under his dark roused gaze. He leaned closer on the table, everything about his body language screaming how open he was to this suggestion. “What do you want to know?”

“Where is Hoseok’s office?” the question tumbled out of me in an instant, “And don’t even try to bullshit me, I know it’s not the warehouse in Songhyeon-dong.” I felt slight heat in my cheeks at the way Yoongi giggled with the remainder of that cursed building, but soon his mirth was overshadowed by plain curiousness.

“Why do you want to know?” he asked in return. I scoffed.

“I’m not required to answer that.”

Silence settled over us, a few tense seconds during which Yoongi measured me with his gaze, contemplating, before finally a bit of his resolve lessened.

“He’s in Jungkook’s building,” he answered me in the end and internally I was screaming in victory, attempting to school my expression so the way I was so disgustingly happy with myself wouldn’t show. Yoongi smirked then, and a bit of my joy died down. “I only feel comfortable telling you because you’d be crazy if you tried anything around there. Jungkook has eyes around most of the city, but that there is the centre of his turf. Consider that a friendly warning.” I fought back a shudder at the clear threat in his words and said nothing. There really wasn’t anything that could be said back to that. How does one respond?

But then Yoongi brightened again, and I realised it was his turn to ask. Steeling myself to whatever he wanted to know, preparing to lie my ass off if needed, I gestured for him to go ahead.

“Did you fuck the detective?” his question wasn’t said seriously at all, he actually sounded quite amused, but it still shocked me to say the least (an understatement). I was sure if I was drinking something I’d be choking on it and spitting everything out all over the fancy white tablecloth right about now. The blush was back with a vengeance, and I could even feel my ears heat up. But mostly I was just angry that such a question even crossed his mind.

“Why the fuck do you even want to know that?” I gritted through my teeth, boiling in my seat enough to almost have steam coming off of my head, “You really going to waste your chance like this?”

Yoongi just shrugged, the annoying smirk still firmly sitting on his face, quiet chuckled escaping his lips at my peeved expression.

“Just curious, that’s all,” he hummed mysteriously, and I sighed, figuring this wasn’t the worst thing he could have gotten me to admit to him.

“Yes,” I muttered, voice going uncharacteristically quiet. It was just another one in the long line of rules Yoongi caught me breaking, even after that lecture I gave him about the importance of following the law. I was such a pathetic hypocrite, it was laughable.

“It was that night, right?” he asked, and this time his voice dipped into a strange mix of dark and faux scandalised, gaze probing for something that set me alight for a different reason altogether. If it was possible, I blushed even darker, but attempted to stand my ground.

“That’s a second question, so I won’t answer.” Yoongi’s delighted beastly grin told me that was answer enough to him though, and I decided enough was enough.

Promptly I stood up, rattling the table and sending the chair skittering back with a terrible sounding screech, drawing the attention of most of the room, the grumpy driver included. Yoongi sat in his seat, completely unperturbed and looking like he was having the best time of his life.

I scowled and moved to leave, finally sending the man into action as he leaped to his feet to follow after me.

“In a rush to get back to work?” he teased some more, sounding way too happy for my liking, but I was no longer interested in keeping up conversations with him, a fact which made him chuckle at me.

Jungkook joined us as soon as we walked by him, immediately falling into his place by Yoongi’s side, watching me alert to make sure I wasn’t trying anything.

“Leaving so soon?” the young man joined in on the teasing, though his grin was much more hostile than Yoongi ever looked at me, and I deliberated on whether I should ignore him as well.

“Some of us can’t spend all our days staring broodily off into distance,” I settled on finally, bursting out through the Black Swan entrance door and taking the stairs two at a time. The two men stayed standing on the top, looking down to me with unreadable amused expressions as I sped by their car.

I pointed at it, still parked at the same spot that made me give them all those parking tickets, and wagged my finger at them, before taking off and briskly walking towards my own vehicle.

Nerves uncomfortably rolled through my stomach, a looming sense of unease that lingered in me after the turn the conversation took that I couldn’t fully place or explain. I weaved through the busy Hannam-dong streets, putting as much distance as I could between me and the cursed hotel, somewhat aimlessly wandering the streets in the vague direction of my car, not really ready to drive back to work where Minjoon and Park were currently having a meeting about the strategy the new special team was taking.

I wasn’t invited, of course, and the violent crime unit was absent as well due to their prolonged stay in Busan, making Hwang and Min the only ones involved. They brought in all that they were capable of gathering so far, information of which I had only a surface understanding to my utmost frustration, but I felt bad continuously pressing Minjoon to tell me more, especially since we haven’t been really speaking much lately.

Clearly keeping me up to date wasn’t their priority.

And I knew that some sort of resolve has broken in me. For the second time that day I thought back to my first meeting with Yoongi (well, second technically, but the first in all the ways that counted), when I came to his bar and flew off into a self-important rant about justice.

Yoongi had warned me then, that laws will never be enough, and I called him a monster. And look at me now – cut off from the security of partnership by my colleagues, left to my own devices and pushed to my limits in the face of a seemingly all-powerful demi-god of a criminal, I spent the last few days deliberating on how to get my dirty little hands on Hoseok’s signature so I could falsify it.

I could tell myself all I wanted that I merely had to slip down into illegality to be able to fight Yoongi on an equal ground, but I knew that my ego was also getting the best of me. And that somehow made it worse – I fully couldn’t even say this was about a noble cause.

Just a few months earlier I’d been chastising myself about the same thing, about seemingly forgetting all about the reason I even did all this just to one up Yoongi whenever I could, and I promised myself to keep my distance from such things. And today I was driving back to the station, after having taken lunch with the very man I was hunting, avoiding a colleague I had slept with against the internal rules of the force, and thinking of how to commit a crime to get my way.

But I couldn’t lie – at this point, just good plain taking him down would be enough to quench that uncontrollable fire that roused in me in these past few months. The infallible Min Yoongi, bested by a young police officer. A tale worth of telling.

Maybe I caught more mannerisms from Yoongi than I was willing to admit – illusions of grandeur certainly seemed to be one of them.

When I reached the station and walked back in, Minjoon was already sitting at his table, signalling the meeting has already ended. Discreetly I peeked into the meeting room to quickly look through the picture wall and see if anything has changed, but either it was still the same or it was small enough that I didn’t catch it on the first try.

I also attempted to catch Minjoon’s eye, to see whether he’d call me over to fill me in, but he kindly smiled at me before gathering his phone, keys and badge and swiftly walked off with Hwang. Probably on official business, which left a sour taste in my mouth, and I sat down on the chair with an ‘oomphf’, hitting the seat with more force than I was anticipating.

The black screen of the monitor stared back at me blankly, as if telling me that there was still time to turn around, chase after them, humiliate myself by begging to be included and then silently watched them work. Still time to change my mind and take the righteous route.

Instead I powered the computer on and clicked once more on the digitalised file on Jung Hoseok, full of court documents, warrants and testimony statements.

This time it took me considerably quicker to find what I was looking for – the undecipherable scrawl of Hoseok’s name together with his personal seal, all forever adorning the documents about financial settlements.

Before I could change my mind, I quickly printed out the bundle of papers belonging to the same case, taking care to choose one of the new printers, the pride of our little precinct as it was bought by the meagre grants given to us by the headquarters, and which kept all of us in awe with the quality of the printed papers. It was just two weeks ago that I myself finally gathered courage to use it and marvelled at how real the testimony looked. Now it would come in handy to do the exact opposite of what its purpose was.

Hastily I grabbed the stack of documents and a stapler, stuffing them both in my bag and I rushed out of the building, the address of the specific court scribbled on a little paper clutched deathly in the palm of my hand.

In the car I took a moment to wind down, trying to will away the subtle shaking that overtook my hands and knees, taking in deep breaths and pushing my body down into the coarse fabric of the car seat, grounding myself through the feeling of my heavy limbs pressing into the furnishing, through the feeling of uneven bumps in the foam I felt under my fingers. I wondered whether Minjoon and Hwang went to Yoongi, whether he was still at the restaurant. Whether he already informed Jungkook and Hoseok that he told me the location of his office, so they should keep an eye on me.

I hoped they would be too focused on guessing where I was sniffing around during nights to realise I was messing about somewhere completely different. I hoped Yoongi still didn’t have me followed.

The court would close in an hour, and it was quite the gamble on my part when I breezed through the door like a hurricane, almost running through the modern building towards the archives. I had one hand permanently stuck in my pocket, at first only to make sure I still had my badge with me, but then I grew too anxious to pull it back out, instead closing my fingers around the cold metal, even though it was slowly warming up. The weight of what I was doing had it burning a hole through my palm and I fidgeted endlessly, cold sweat gathering at my back and soaking into the white t-shirt I threw on that morning.

There was an old lady sitting behind a desk, bored and tired of everybody’s bullshit, and I took a long stabilising breath in, before pushing through the door and walking confidently over.

Her attention was on me immediately, torn away from the book spread in her lap by the sound of the opening door, and when she glanced up, there was already annoyance visible on her face, likely at getting interrupted from her read. I plastered on another polite smile, expression admittedly a little wooden.

“How can I help you?” the woman asked, mono-tone and stone-faced. I walked all the way to her, until I was leaning on her table, and gave her another queasy smile.

“I’m here to check out a specific file on Jung Hoseok’s settlement trial from 28th of April 2022,” I recited, more focused on keeping my voice as steady as hers than on the words that I’d been practicing repeatedly in my head on my way over.

“Do you have the appropriate permits?” she asked back, barely even looking at me to instead fiddle with her computer, swiftly putting in the date and name I just gave her to check it over.

I pulled out my badge and set it down on the table in front of her, other hand rummaging through my bag to locate my unit ID card to show her as well. She took one unimpressed look at it and then back at me, eyes gliding over my body head to toes, before she set her stare back on the computer.

Silence stretched between us, interrupted only by her mouse clicking as she sifted through the database.

“I don’t know if you have clearance to access these files,” she said, sounding like she had to deal with fifteen people like me each hour, and I started to feel desperation and frustration lick at my mind.

“Police officers are legally allowed to look at files connected to their investigations,” I told her with all the conviction I could muster, “this man has been investigated by my unit for over a year.” She looked at me like I was crazy, lips in a thin line and clear disapproval all written over her face.

“Then you surely have access to these scanned for his files,” she said petulantly, safe-guarding the documents like they contained the nuclear weapons codes. I fought back the urge to sass back at her, as it would likely make her ever harder to deal with.

“I do, which should be answer enough whether I’m allowed to access them,” I answered, not even lying on that one, though I still had to carefully skirt around the reasons for my visit, “but I’d like to see the original document, the scan’s never as clear as good old paper.” For signatures anyway. Otherwise they’re pretty well visible.

“They lack the depth,” I added in for good measure, but it was obvious the lady really lost interest in fighting with me over this. The settlement was for grievous bodily harm caused by Hoseok to a club-goer, and it was clearly stated that he acted as a body-guard to Min Yoongi and almost killed the man while “trying to maintain peace” in the club. She wasn’t dumb, she must have realised it was gang related.

And no matter what she thought about my visit, I clearly was police, and that opened a lot of doors (even when it shouldn’t have).

“Show me some ID, I’ll need to put you into the system as a visitor,” she grumbled finally, outstretching her hand to me and waiting for me to fumble with my bag to pull out my wallet.

After another few tense moments of silence during which she carefully copied my details into her computer, she then suddenly got up and gestured for me to follow her. I scrambled to go after her, stuffing all of my things back and making sure the papers I took were still there and in a passable state.

She weaved through the maze of shelves, confidently making her way as if she’d walked the same route a thousand times, suddenly speedy now that she wasn’t behind her little table. Our journey took us one floor door, a rickety metal staircase leading further into the underbelly of this huge building.

As we strayed away from the little table, I noticed a significant lack of cameras, which was frankly startling for a court in Seoul, but they probably thought writing your name down into the little form and going through this little old lady was security enough. I chuckled a little at that and thanked whoever it was that decided that putting CCTV here wasn’t a priority.

The lady finally slowed down by one of the shelves, fingers flying around the boxes stored there until she found what she was looking for, nimbly pulling out a brown cardboard box with Hoseok’s name written on the front.

Without much preamble she thrust it into my arms and then turned around and left, no words spoken and no glances exchanged. For a few moments I watched her go in stunned silence before the reality of the situation kicked in and I swiftly shuffled near one of the little tables that were scattered through the space.

To my absolute annoyance, the box contained a mountain of documents, and I spent good twenty minutes going through it just searching for the one that I brought with me. But once I had it in my hands, it was entirely too easy to carefully peek around to make sure I wasn’t watched by anyone or caught by a camera, dig out my stapler and punch the documents together in a way that looked the most similar, and then slip the original ones in my bag while I pretended to closely read through the copy.

It wasn’t fool-proof. If anyone looked closer at the files, it’d be fairly obvious that they were printed copies – as I said before, there was no depth to them and the signature didn’t look as real. But that’s exactly why I needed the original with me.

I just prayed to God that no one would feel the need to dig these out and closely inspect them until I had the chance to sneak back and switch them again.

I loitered around long enough so that it wouldn’t look suspicious (or at least what my nervous brain told me was enough time to not make it look suspicious) and then I slowly made my way back up the steel old staircase, towards the little brown desk.

The lady didn’t even look up this time, eyes glued to her book without a single acknowledgement of my existence as I walked past her, smuggled documents stuffed in my black bag.

As I was walking out of that building, it suddenly struck me just how easy it was to break the law when you had the police badge on you – a realisation I’d keep to myself and never divulge to Yoongi, lest he laughs himself to death while screaming ‘I told you so’.

Now, I wasn’t an expert on forgery, but I had been able to catch some basic ideas while growing up on the streets. I wasn’t directly involved in it, but some of the kids I sometimes used to hang out with made and sold fake IDs around the orphanage and other neighbourhood kids, and I wasn’t completely clueless on that. When you spend hours sitting next to someone labouring over a fake little piece of plastic, no matter how hard you’re trying to ignore them, you’ll take a peek here or there.

Still, it was more DIY than I was expecting. I bought some see-through paper sheets and spent an evening carefully tracing the elegant lines of Hoseok’s name and personal stamp, trying to work out all the kinks and all the lines, watch where they fill out more, where he exerted more pressure and dug the pen deeper into the paper. All of that, all of the things that made it a little bit more authentic.

The seal was going to be more tricky – not only I had to trace it, but then I’d have to mould it somehow so that I could make a copy of it from wax. I had bought a whole case of playdough and I wasn’t scared to use it. Well, maybe a little bit. I’ve never been an overly artistic person, nor a terribly precise and patient one. So that would be fun, for sure.

When days later I finally felt confident enough to try and transfer it to the actual document, my tiny two rooms apartment was buried under mountains of white papers with randomly placed signatures on it, some a little more successful than others, but most of them still felt a little wonky.

That day I stood at work right next to the fancy printer, once again, and hoped that whoever walked past wouldn’t think it weird that I was gathering what looked to be a hefty stack of the same copy of an official form, waiting expectantly at the mouth of the machine and snatching all the freshly printed sheets still warm from the process as they were coming out. I certainly hoped that what people said was true – that no one was really paying as much attention as you did to what you did. This would be a little awkward to explain.

The stamp DIY had gone as terribly as I was expecting it to. The playdough was malleable, maybe even a little too much, and even when I spent literal hours carefully tracing the shapes into it and smoothing it out with thin popsicle wooden sticks, every time I tried to actually make the seal the result was less than desirable. One look at those uneven lines and everybody would be able to tell that it was made by a child. The messiness of the ink could hide some discrepancies, but what I had made was laughable.

It was truly embarrassing how many evenings I spent bent over the table, tongue peeking out of my mouth as I as carefully as my clumsy hands allowed me traced Hoseok’s name into the soft clay, hoping that maybe I’d already written it so many times those lines were pressed into my muscle memory.

Even with the practice I allowed myself, I still burned through the stack of the forms pretty quickly, always chickening out and fearing that it was just not perfect enough to get caught under a closer inspection. And closely inspect they would, the Hana Bank were no amateurs and they’d walk through fire for their clients. I didn’t know what the procedure was when we had a signed consent to get the statements, but when we delivered warrants, they sure fought it for as long as possible.

Some of my colleagues apparently even believed they even tipped the clients off sometimes, even though that was illegal.

So it had to be bulletproof. More bulletproof than Hoseok himself seemed to be.

On Wednesday a week later I walked through the office once more to nervously shift around the printer as it gave me a fresh copy of the official consent form to butcher at home, this time only one because it was suspiciously full today, with almost everyone present at their desks. I sincerely hoped no one was tracking my printing history.

It felt a little more concrete, having only a single try this time, like I really had to succeed, and I was determined to do so. So determined in fact, that I didn’t even notice when I basically walked straight into Minjoon who had been watching for an undisclosed amount of time, my arms and body immediately twisting so that the piece of paper stayed unharmed.

Minjoon’s arms wrapped around me to catch me, working against the momentum I put to work and instead pulling me closer to his body, to right me when I inevitably lost my balance. Very briefly I thought back to that sunny afternoon I broke into Yoongi’s office and then bumped into him on the corner, before I was forcing myself back into the present, quickly shuffling out of the detective’s arms. I was properly flustered at being caught so unaware, even as a pinch of fear ran through me at being seen like that, as if the others could sense what happened between us the last Friday of May.

“Whatcha doin’?” the man asked cheekily, completely ignoring the fact that seemingly everyone and their mother currently sat just a few feet away from us, our small little desks mushed together to fit into the tight space. On a cursory glance no one was overly paying attention, but one never knew.

All that was needed for me to lose everything was one nosy police officer making an anonymous complaint about me getting a little too chummy with my colleagues. ‘The only woman in an all-male unit fucked her way through the entire team’ was a rumour that would spread a little too well around these parts, especially if Park got involved.

“P-printing,” I blurted out before I could stop myself, instinctively taking a few cautious steps back. Minjoon noticed, and for a split second I saw hurt flash through his eyes before a sad kind of understanding settled in instead, and I heaved a sigh of relief.

“Coffee?” was the next question that came out his mouth, noticeably less cheery, but I still appreciated the exit he offered us, the chance to talk a little more openly without the very real possibility of everything spectacularly crashing down around us. So I just nodded and led the way, not even realising I was still clutching the freshly printed document.

Minjoon clocked it in too and as soon as we were settling down in the empty cafeteria, he was pointing at it with a jut of his chin, a silent question written into his gaze.

“O-oh yeah,” I stuttered through once again, cheeks colouring slightly in embarrassment even as the acidic feeling flooded me at the realisation I’d need to lie to him more, “I’m taking your advice. Someone in those cases might be willing to let me go through their finances, it would give me an advantage. I’ve been prepping it while Cheol’s gone.”

The man hummed in answer, but I could tell his interest laid somewhere completely else, eyes slightly glazed over as he stared intently into the cup of coffee gripped almost dangerously tight in his hands. Oh, so this wasn’t going to be professional chit-chat about work.

“What’s up?” I asked instead, meaning it as both a question about his current mood and the current happenings in his life. I hadn’t exactly given him many chances to catch me for a conversation these past two weeks, and I was starting to feel a little guilty about it; but every time he even as much as looked in my direction, I feared someone would immediately figure out what I’d done – let him fuck me in my living room, as if my bedroom wasn’t full of pictures of Yoongi and I didn’t still wear the little skirt I chose specifically to surprise the man. As if I still didn’t feel the phantom ghost of his presence by my side, and my mind still wasn’t stuck on that little red couch, three pairs of eyes glued to me while I sipped on a fruity cocktail and Yoongi whispered to me like a lover about to sweetly strangle me to death.

That’s what I’d done.

And Minjoon deserved so much better than that as well. I truly liked the man, I did so much, but the way Yoongi burrowed himself under my skin, like a permanent itch, it left barely an hour a day when I didn’t somehow think about him, even if that was the last thing I wanted to do. The man was like a curse, hanging over me and poisoning my mind until even a stupid black car reminded me of him, and I hated that with my whole being.

I didn’t want to do that to Minjoon, but now what was supposed to be a sweet moment will forever be tainted by the fact that I spoke to Yoongi the same day and somehow got myself stuck with the man firmly clawing his way into my consciousness every waking second of my every day.

When I went to him that one winter night, sitting in Dynamite for the first time across him, I had no fucking idea I’d end up here, with my entire existence carved and moulded around his in mere months.

‘I’m like mold, darling’ Yoongi had said, and at the time I had no idea just how right he was.

The awkward silence took over our table, both of us too troubled by our own thoughts, before Minjoon finally decided to take a step forward, looking like he’d been pushing himself to it for a long time and maybe now felt brave enough. How unfortunate that it coincided with the kind of spiral I was going through right opposite of him.

“I was thinking we could have a dinner together,” he suggested quietly, throwing little unsure yet hopeful glances my way, “like we used to.”

Like we used to. Like it was years, and not merely two weeks ago, that we last met for food outside of work.

“Is that a good idea?” when I asked that, I already knew my resolve was slipping, and I knew Minjoon knew that as well when he gave me a wide toothy grin, life pouring back into him and I saw a glimpse of the flirty attractive man he turned into when no one was around. I found my lips tugging into a grin too, wanting to follow his lead with no further prompting needed, but I pulled back until I heard what he had to say about this.

“No.” the word was simple enough, an acknowledgement – both of the fact that we were getting into trouble and the fact that we weren’t about to stop, “But you don’t strike me as the type that would mind that.”

Oh, if you only knew, I found myself wanting to say, but bit my tongue to keep those words in. You haven’t the faintest idea, were the next ones, and I just simply settled for an amused smile.

“Fine, then,” I said, and even as I put more sauce on the resigned tone in my voice, the lightness slowly spread down to my chest and a different kind of trepidation set in. And for once it felt like the good kind, even though I still couldn’t shake the feeling of doing something kind of wrong.

I wished it was easier to banish the thoughts of guilt from my mind – for having even slipped there during the intimate moments we shared. I wished even now I wasn’t thinking about how unsettling it felt with Yoongi being so clearly invested in my relationship with Minjoon. ‘Was it that night?’ as if he branded me by talking to me. Like he was trying to tell me ‘I got there first. It was me. ME’.

But I’d grown tired of that. I wanted to reclaim my life from his hands. And I wanted Minjoon and I didn’t want to feel guilty about it. I wanted to do it right. I didn’t want Yoongi interfering with that. And I sure as hell wanted to try.

I had a feeling that whatever happened this summer, wherever we were heading, it would come to a head now anyway, and everything would change between us. The warehouse murders, the Moon Jiwoo case, me hopefully finally cracking down on Hoseok, too many things that would put us clearly on opposite sides of the fight, and for all Yoongi tried to plant seeds of himself into me, soon I’d cross that line. And he wouldn’t be as friendly anymore.

Like it should have been from the beginning. As was right. The natural order.

Minjoon would still be here even after Yoongi had grown tired of playing with me, and it was time for me to move on from the frustrated obsessiveness he pulled me into when I interacted with him. I might have reconsidered a lot of things since the first time we spoke, broke a lot of my own rules, but the truth was still there – he was a criminal and it was my job to catch him.

“I still have a few things I gotta work on,” I was only half-lying to him, and I told myself that was somehow better than full-on lying, “so I’ll go back now.” The man hummed and nodded, and when I stood up, he made no move to follow – so I walked back to the office by myself, clutching the paper in my hand.

For the first time since Cheol left I opened my notes about the cases we were supposed to work on together and started quickly reading through. If I was going to tell people these forms were for this investigation, I needed names at the ready. If I stuttered and stumbled through some vague explanation, it could make them realise I was being suspicious. There had to be a concrete wall between them and the truth, so I sat there and built it brick by fucking brick.

When Minjoon came to my table hours later, the station was already almost empty and our office was void of any of our coworkers, which made it easier for me to relax about being seen leaving together. This time when Minjoon gestured to his car, I ignored mine own and went with him to his. I’d get my car tomorrow morning, and right now I just wanted to go.

The slightly awkward tense silence still hung about us, though both of us were considerably less high-strung. As I sat quietly in the passenger seat, I felt the brown-haired man sneaking glances at me, face open and curious, like he couldn’t believe he finally succeeded in talking me into talking to him again, and it had a tentative smile tugging at my lips.

He drove us a little further away from the Namyeong station, where we usually grabbed lunch due to the vicinity to our little police station, most probably to make sure we’d have privacy cause a lot of the restaurants around there already knew our faces and knew we were police officers. Though, he did drive us straight into Itaewon, which also didn’t serve my nerves too well.

If we bumped into Yoongi or another one of his clowns, I’d be forced to commit aggravated assault.

But thankfully without any problems we ended up in a small, cute hole-in-a-wall eatery that served ramen. Not one of us has spoken a single word yet, except for ordering, and the tension slowly grew as we knew we were nearing the point when we’d have to talk to each other.

Finally, Minjoon seemed to have reached the breaking point, and when he turned to me, I saw the determination in his eyes. I steeled myself as well, sipping from my coke to put a little barrier between me and the intensity he channelled.

“So… should we talk about it?” he asked simply, though he didn’t look strictly serious – there was still a light smile on his face, like even through his nerves he was sure I was already open to whatever he wanted. Which I was, so I smiled as well.

“Talk about what?” I teased him, cheekily throwing little glances towards him while I pretended not to pay attention by playing with the napkins. Minjoon didn’t seem offended, not at all, though he scoffed lightly and leaned back in his chair. For a moment my eyes jumped to the way his t-shirt stretched across his chest, before I looked back to the table with my cheeks a little redder than before.

“Should I describe in great detail what I mean?” Minjoon teased back, and I immediately held up my hand to him to stop him, even though we were both already snickering.

“I think there’s some things you can keep to yourself,” I grumbled back, feeling myself unfreeze and relax slightly. For a moment we just sat there and looked at each other with small grins, the atmosphere warming around us and reminding me of the way we’d enjoy each other’s company before. Then we both sobered up a little though, the reality of having to have this conversation fully sinking in.

“No, but really, we should speak,” Minjoon said again, this time a little more serious than before, and he leaned on the table, like unconsciously trying to shorten the distance between us, “Do you want this?”

The simplicity of the question and the straightforwardness of the statement momentarily shocked me, and I choked a little on the soda I’ve clutched in my hand this whole time. But I guessed there was no reason to beat around the bush – we’ve already crossed the line, there was no need for being all shy now. I still found embarrassment flooding me at the way I reacted though, and I cleared my throat.

“Do you want this?” I knew it wasn’t completely fair flipping this onto him when I didn’t answer the question myself, I knew it wasn’t fair having to know his answer before having the guts to make the leap of faith myself, but I couldn’t help the strands of doubt wrapping themselves tightly over my heart.

Minjoon simply stared me for a few seconds before he nodded. It was such an uncomplicated and yet resolute gesture, it robbed me of my breath momentarily. Could it really be that easy between us? Just acting on desire and need, ignoring all the things that could be at stake – just being together, like we were a normal couple of coworkers. Did he even fully realise what the consequences could be?

Still, I couldn’t stop the way my heart quivered in quiet hope, jumping in my chest at the idea and letting me run with the fantasy of sharing this with Minjoon. Aligning myself to where I was supposed to fit, doing the right thing with the right man by my side. He was a good detective, and a kind man, and as much as I feared getting found out, there was a part of me that yearned for getting to have that kind of connection with him. We were both on the same side, shared the same goals – we could be perfect like that.

“I understand why you’re hesitant,” Minjoon whispered when he sensed my conflicted state of mind, and offered me a small smile, “but I’m willing to risk it, for you. For us, really. I’ve never connected with anyone here this way, and I knew that you were something special from the moment you stepped through the door. I could see it all in the fire and determination in your eyes. I’ve enjoyed all our little chats, I’ve enjoyed being a mentor for you, I’ve enjoyed our dinners and the time we spent together outside of the precinct. And I’ve most definitely enjoyed our last time together.”

That had me lightly slapping his shoulder, even as I was smiling to myself about his words. Minjoon laughed, the genuine cheerful sound cutting through the atmosphere between us and pulling me along.

“Minjoon, I…” the words simply escaped me, and I had no idea how to express the storm of thoughts, worries and emotions, but I figured I owed him to try. “I’d like that. A lot. I’ve also enjoyed our time together, but my standing in the unit is already quite precarious. I don’t really even care about breaking the rules, I’m just scared. Of what it will do to my career were something to get out. If the situation was different, I would have loved giving this a try, truly I would.” I tried softening the blow with a smile, but I knew I looked more sad than reassuring.

“We’d be careful,” Minjoon whispered to me, hopeful grin in place and I could already feel myself slipping again, “We’d make sure no one knew. Y/N, I don’t want to do anything that hurts you. I’d never let that happen.” He reached over the table to grab my hand, and I almost jerked back before realising we weren’t at the station and I didn’t have to worry about being seen together. Minjoon noticed my reaction, I could see it in the way the corner of his lips weighted down with the knowledge, but when his hand reached mine it was gentle and light.

“We both want this, and I think it would be a pity to not try,” he gently probed, leaning even closer to look into my eyes. I fought the instinct to dodge the eye contact and allowed myself to soak into his soft brown gaze. “It would be a pity to lose what we could have together, don’t you think?”

I saw the waitress approaching with our orders out of the corner of my eye, so I pulled away and softly dropped my hands to my lap to give her space to put our food on the table. Minjoon’s face dropped for a second before her approach registered in his mind too, and we both attempted to focus on the food for a moment.

Silence settled over us as we both dug in, the atmosphere surprisingly not as oppressive as I feared it might have been, but still a sense uncertainty hung in the air.

I spent the entire meal mulling over his words. I knew what decision I wanted to make, and I knew what decision I could afford to make – and they were not the same. Minjoon’s soft insistence that he’d shield me from the bad warmed my heart, I felt touched by his genuine words, but at the same time – how much control did we have over this?

To take the leap of faith and potentially face losing everything, or to continue living by the side of what could have been and awkwardly bumble through every interaction?

‘Did you fuck the detective?’

Yoongi already knew. It gave him a direct fool-proof plan of getting rid of me should he choose to do so. He wouldn’t even have to plan anything, wouldn’t even have to plant anything on me. He’d just report our relationship, and the rest would be done for him. And the sad thing was it would be a bigger hit for me than if he’d plant cocaine on me.

And once again I had to face what my life had become – Yoongi’s echo chamber. Everything I did and everything I chose to do or not to do, it always came back to him, and for a brief moment I mourned the control over my life that was taken from me when I stepped into this investigation. But that was all the more reason to bring him down.

In a moment of panic I just wanted to run from everything. I was so overwhelmed and I felt like a child in many things – choosing things with potentially devastating consequences knowing I couldn’t ever make a fully informed decision. And living with knowing I’d always managed to choose the thing that brought me into a worse situation.

I wanted to trust Minjoon’s reassurance, and I wanted to take the leap, but something kept me firmly tethered to the dark little spot I made for myself here at the rock bottom.

Not many words were exchanged between us after that, and once we finished our meal, we quickly found out there wasn’t much point in staying out longer. Minjoon still watched me with hopeful eyes and I still found myself hesitating every single time, not capable of giving him what he asked of me.

Sleeping with him complicated everything, and while I wouldn’t say I regretted doing it, I thought to myself quietly that given the chance to make that decision again, I wouldn’t do it – just to spare myself this strange vacuum we were suspended in – sitting side by side, yearning, yet not brave enough to take the final step. Well, at least I wasn’t.

Minjoon drove me home, his presence as calming as it was anxiety inducing, the silence spreading over us in an all-encompassing embrace. I couldn’t decide how I felt.

Just like that night, he insisted on walking me to my door, and just like that night I accepted after slight hesitance. Minjoon lingered a little, hand almost instinctively reaching out to me endlessly – always gripping onto my sleeve for just a second before letting go. I could see he wanted to speak, to say more, but didn’t know what.

I knew what he meant to do when he stepped closer though, and I’d later tell myself I didn’t have enough time to stop him, to protest when he leant down with his eyes burning into me, lips gentle and reverent in how he slowly kissed me.

I couldn’t help the way my heart lurched in joy, couldn’t help how I reached out back just as instinctively to hold onto him when he briefly pressed closer. Couldn’t help the slight ring of disappointment when he pulled away, and with a last boyish grin walked away.

As soon as the door closed behind me, the weight of my reality settled back into my shoulders and the giddy feeling slowly trickled out of me. The state of my living room was an endless testament to the situation I’d gotten myself into – covered in a layer of documents with failed forged signatures, and the space that was clean of that was filled with dirty clothes or dishes.

My living room was cluttered with the signs of my planned crimes, and the ones I’d already committed also, and for a moment I had the terrible feeling – that maybe it was Minjoon who should have been fearing a downfall through his relationship with me. That maybe it would be me who ended up dragging him down.

With a sign I pushed away all thoughts of the evening I had, cleaning out my mind – because that always made it easier to cope, and I didn’t have the capacity to face everything right now.

I felt kind of queasy and scared and all I could think about was storming Yoongi’s club to distract myself, my treacherous mind supplying this idea to me like it was a cure and not the root of all of these problems.

Instead I sat down onto my cluttered couch and pulled out the single copy of the bank search agreement, pulling out the tools I’ve made myself in the weeks I tried. With shame I scribed Hoseok’s signature on there from memory, my wrist already familiar with the movements, before I reached over for the stamp with a jittery anxious heart.

This was the last attempt. If I didn’t like this, I’d stop. Clearly it was a sign for me to let this go – and I promised myself – if I messed this one up, it was the last I did.

I tried the stamp out a few times on a different paper, and this one did look the most accurate out of all the ones I did before. The ring around the name was finally symmetrical, and the characters didn’t look as if they were written by a first-grader anymore. With one last deep breath, I rolled it in the red ink and without hesitating a second more, slapped the stamp onto the document.

There was a strange stillness when the deed was done – as if I slowly accepted the decision I’ve come to within myself when I saw it. It didn’t look perfect, and I argued it couldn’t anyway – not even by his own hand the signatures looked all the same. There was a certain margin of error and doubt involved, and the moment I saw the signed and stamped document, I knew in my heart that it was close enough to pass.

Strangely, a trickle of disappointment lit up my chest – maybe I was hoping for it to fail, so that I could talk myself out of this insanity. But would I have stopped? How many times did I promise myself I’d keep my distance and how many times did I actually honour that?

How much time would it take before I tried again?

Leaving the document sitting in the middle of my table like it was a part of an exhibition, I slowly walked over to my bedroom, and I stared into Yoongi’s eyes on my wall before the sleep claimed me, clothes unchanged and all.

The sleek interior of the office unnerved me, and I watched the wooden carving lining the walls with endless curiosity. This was definitely a space where I firmly didn’t belong, and I felt it in the expensive interior and in the strange looks I got from the employees and the occasional client passing through.

I must have been standing out like an ugly bruise, all wonder-eyed and nervously sitting in one of the modern-like chairs, wearing my best clothes that still must have looked like rags to everyone around me, as they were draped in high-end brands from head to toe.

Bitterly I thought to myself that this surely was a crowd Yoongi must have felt very comfortable with, but any thought of the man cranked up my anxiety to new heights. Currently I was panicking about him potentially having an appointment here for today – and what a coincidence that would have been.

The Hana Bank headquarters, situated on the Eulji-ro intersection, was a sleek glass skyscraper with even sleeker cold interior full of squeaky-clean shiny blocks of sandy brown marble. Once I recovered from the initial wonder about the reception space complete with artworks and a fancy café, I stuttered out to the bored receptionist about my surprise visit and she let me up here into the office, where I was currently waiting for someone to talk to me.

And after what felt like ages, during which I sat there and stewed in my own fear and shame, I finally saw someone walking towards me.

“Miss Lee?” a nicely dressed woman stopped by my chair, her heels clacking on the floor loudly, and I stood to meet her halfway. I felt her heavy judgmental gaze on me and I felt the need to defend myself that I wasn’t here looking into my banking options, but kept my mouth shut and just followed after her when she gestured for me to join her.

Of course I wasn’t there about banking, I was on the wrong floor for that.

She walked me down the white and brown hallways until we reached a door that said ‘Kim Jaejoon, Director of Risk Management Division’. With a single knock she was gone, leaving me standing there like a fool.

“Come in,” a voice came from inside, and I struggled to put an age to it.

Upon my entrance, I quickly realised the white and light wood theme persisted in here too, and the uniformity of it all started grinding at my gears. The poshness of it all became almost laughable to me and the insistence on appearing a certain standard turned almost tacky.

I said nothing though, and sat down when offered.

The manager was an older gentleman, elegant and keeping a certain young-like vibe, no doubt through living a very comfortable life. He smiled politely, in a practiced way, but I couldn’t really force myself to return it through all my nerves.

“What can I do for you, officer?” he asked in that practiced slyness, and I decided that there was no point in beating around the bush. I reached into my bag and pulled out the cursed document, a weight falling off of my shoulders as soon as it was placed on the table, like I’d finally rid myself of the burden of it. Now I only had to sell it.

“I came here to obtain Mr. Jung Hoseok’s financial records,” I tried to match his energy, and hoped that I didn’t sound too hill-billy, “We’ve been investigating him and he graciously agreed for us to have access to his information.” If he only heard me, god. I’d be dead meat.

The man pulled the piece of paper to himself, squinting eyes in concentration as he read through the official form. I watched with bated breath as his gaze slid expressionlessly over the signature, moving on immediately to look at me again.

“Mr. Jung is one of our top clients, I hope you understand that I’d like to discuss this issue with our lawyer first before I grant you access,” he spoke diplomatically, keeping one hand on the paper, his smile turned sharper now that I was after someone he no doubt swore to protect.

I nodded and offered him a smile. I hoped he wouldn’t contact Hoseok himself – because if he did, I might not live long enough to hear back from them. I was expecting for him to show me out, but instead he picked up a phone and dialled a number so quickly it had to be at the top of his caller’s list.

It took barely a few seconds before the call was answered and I watched as he gave me a wooden smile while he explained the situation.

“It is signed, yes,” he told the phone, a bit of frustration bleeding through as he narrowed his eyes at the document, “I can send it over to you.” There was an answer that he didn’t like, telling by the way his eyebrows cinched together in a frown, clear annoyance taking over his expression.

“Yes, I said it already… Yes, there is a date… What? What do you mean? That can’t-“ I sat there and listened to him get angry, though he did try to be discreet about it. I put on a disinterested face, but I was listening in with stomach knotted in nerves, straining my ears to catch the lawyer’s answers.

“But don’t you want to see it first?” he asked finally, resignation settling in before he got what I assumed was the final confirmation and set the phone down on the table.

“Sorry about that,” the man told me, but he looked more annoyed when he looked at me again, “They seem to be quite busy. According to what he told me, I’m required to honour your request as it is an official document and you proved yourself with a badge.” Every word sounded like an accusation, and if I didn’t forge that document myself, I might have been peeved at his clear anger at having to honour the law. As it stood now, I was breaking it instead, so I let it slide.

“You’re entitled to the last year of the records, so you can expect it by afternoon today or at the very furthest tomorrow noon,” the man conceded finally, looking thoroughly peeved at me. Sorry for investigating a serial killer, I guess?

“Well, you’ve got my work email,” I said, just to have something to say, and then awkwardly sat there with his expectant gaze at me, before I realised he wanted me to leave. I scrambled to stand up and gather up my things because fuck this guy, I didn’t want to stay either, and he gave me the first pleasant smile since I got here.

After exchanging some wooden pleasantries and polite conversation, and after some more reassurance that he’d send the materials over, I found myself standing outside in the blisteringly hot street with the sun bearing down on my already burnt skin, wondering what the fuck just happened.

I checked my phone for time in disbelief, reading the little numbers over and over again like the piece of technology was somehow lying to me. I was in his office for all of 13 minutes. I waited in the lobby for almost twenty, and then I was out in thirteen.

I committed a crime, and all it took was not even a full quarter of an hour and not a single security check.

As I crossed the street to get back to my car, I had to wonder – was it always this easy or was it because I had a badge that nobody cared?

I spent weeks stressing myself out over a forgery for one of the most prestigious banks, only to be given the clear upon the decision of a single guy after his lawyer told him he’s too busy? It was almost laughable.

I kind of wished I could have asked Yoongi to compare notes with him. How long does it take you to commit a crime? Cause I bet I can do it faster with my badge. Ain’t got nothing on me, baby.

Sitting down behind the wheel, I almost didn’t know what to do with myself. The anxious energy that swelled up inside of me now didn’t have any outlet and I found myself squirming and overthinking, still expecting something terrible to happen the moment I let my guard down.

But even after I spent full twenty minutes sitting in my car staring at the building of the bank (which, if I didn’t look suspicious before, I definitely did now), nothing happened. People walked by, some walked inside, some continued on, some walked out, cars buzzed by. Nobody looked towards me, nobody seemed to care for my presence. Nobody was angrily chasing me down demanding an explanation. Everything went on as usual.

I pulled out of the parking spot absent-mindedly, thoughts going a mile a minute, but heart finally calming down slowly. I wasn’t even really thinking of where I was going, but my body worked on autopilot, clearly deciding for me where to go while I was still mentally stuck in that sleek white room, sitting across the bank manager calling his lawyer.

And that’s how I ended up sitting in my car right across Pied Piper, at 11 am, flabbergasted at how I even got there. Mindlessly I walked over, no plan no nothing, just plain curiosity and a propensity to making bad decisions.

Two bouncers stood in front of the club, smoking and clearly tired, but both perked up the moment they realised I was heading for them. I saw them gearing up to deal with me and send me away, before the taller one’s face lit up in recognition and he slapped the shoulder of his buddy to stand down. When I got to them, I was already intrigued at what the interaction was going to be like, but instead of telling me anything, the taller of the duo opened the door with a shit-eating grin and motioned for me to get inside.

I already held a personal grudge against the other two bouncers, and I certainly wasn’t planning on embarrassing myself in front of these two as well, so I hid my confusion about suddenly gaining a VIP 24/7 access and walked in without uttering a single word, feeling their amused gazes on my back. It sent shivers down my spine, but I figured I shouldn’t be looking down on such sudden luck.

Unless the only reason they let me in was that Yoongi was by some miracle here at the moment, in which case it would be weird and eerie that I ended up here at the same time. I would even consider visiting a shaman, if that ended up being the truth.

The club was of course completely empty – and now fully lit up, without the blaring music and empty of dancers it felt less glamorous and more like a big sad room full of discarded trash, spilt drinks and other liquids I’d rather not think about. The grey on the walls was way bleaker in this light, and I could clearly see how the floor was wearied down by daily use, same as the tables and chairs and couches – where every little stain was suddenly visible, and I vowed myself to never sit on any of those.

My reverie was broken by a melodic voice, and I turned from where I was standing motionlessly just staring emptily into the room.

“Hey, how can I help you?”

There was a boy behind the bar. Well, I say boy – he looked incredibly youthful, especially when his expression broke into a friendly smile, but couldn’t have been much younger than me. Might have even been slightly older. He was leisurely wiping down the counter, no doubt trying to deal with the disaster left behind by a busy night, but there was this cool vibe to him and he moved with a certain swagger.

When I turned to face him, his eyes took me in and I think we might have simultaneously realised we knew each other, because just as I thought back to the memory of him trying to lure me to his bar up in the VIP section with his smiley barkeep charm, he suddenly piped up again.

“Yoongi hyung isn’t here right now,” he offered me the information he probably thought I sought after, and I fought the angry blush off of my face.

“I’m just passing by,” I answered him with a forced nonchalant flare, going back to looking around the room to appear more care-free, and not like I absolutely had no idea what I was doing. Which was always true.

The guy hummed and moved on to shining the glasses with a special rag of some sorts. He didn’t let my attitude bring him down though and kept smiling towards me, almost as if he was blissfully unaware of who both me and his boss were. He probably thought we were some kind of friends.

“Oh, but Hobi hyung is here,” he supplied more details, chattering off excitedly when he caught my attention, “he came in like fifteen minutes ago to get TaeTae hyung, I think he promised to drive him somewhere.” I took a few steps closer to him, hesitating but kind of tempted to sit with him at the bar and just pull whatever he wanted to share out of him. He definitely seemed the type who loved to share.

The name Hobi also rung some kind of bell to me, but I couldn’t fully place it. I’ve gone through so many materials pertaining to the Min gang that I couldn’t remember everything, and I told myself it was probably someone that had a case against them once and I remember it from there. I didn’t care much for this apparent chauffeur of Taehyung’s and instead slinked closer to the guy.

He gestured towards the seat across the bar, and that sealed the deal for me. As soon as I sit down, he was offering me his hand, and I shook it with only slight hesitation.

“I’m Yeonjun. We kind of saw each other around, but hyung never introduced us,” Yeonjun told me excitedly, and I kind of hated having to burst his bubble.

“Hi Yeonjun, I’m detective Lee,” I braced myself for some kind of reaction – really anything would have been appropriate ranging from worry to curiousness to mistrust. I wasn’t really expecting the joyful barkeep to raise one eyebrow at me with a smirk and say: “Well, I doubt that’s your name, detective.”

For a moment I stared at him in surprise, eyes owlishly blinking and mouth barely keeping shut, but I pulled myself together with an embarrassed smile.

“You’re right, it’s Y/N.”

Yeonjun smiled all friendly at me again, no sight of the knowing smirk that slipped onto his face for a second, and I realised I might be dealing with much more of a professional than I initially thought.

“So, what are you here for today? Probably not to dance,” he gestured to the empty silent club, momentarily pausing with a glass precariously hanging from his other hand before he resumed the shining, “though if you feel like it, help with clean-up will definitely be very welcomed.”

I grinned at him and leant down on the bar, propping my head up on my hand to make myself more comfortable.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll pass on that,” I sassed back, curious eyes sliding over the design of the bar, drinking in every little detail. It somehow felt a little forbidden to be so casually sitting here in broad daylight, and I wanted to use the chance to look around well.

“Yeah, figured,” Yeonjun snorted and moved on from glasses to wiping down the bottles of alcohol that were no doubt all sticky from layers of spilt drinks. Silence settled over us and I wracked my brain to come up with any topic to talk about, opening and closing my mouth endlessly, but always changing my mind last minute. What does one talk about in a situation like this?

Well, in the end it didn’t matter anyway, because just then my attempts were ruined by cheerful voice booming over the room.

“There’s one of my babies! How’re you doing, Jjunnie?” a loud joyful scream interrupted our stilted conversation, and I froze in my seat, fear taking over for a few seconds. Just like that, the sudden realisation why the name Hobi seemed familiar to me hit me in the face like a truck full of bricks.

I turned slowly, almost too slowly, only to come face to face with a wildly smiling happy Hoseok swaggering down the stairs, all care-free and feeling very at home with arms flailing dramatically about. I saw the moment he clocked me in, the moment his eyes slightly narrowed and his smile turned more stilted, but he said nothing and did nothing. When he finally reached the bar, he was acting like nothing was wrong, and reluctantly I went along.

“I see that you’re entertaining one of our friends,” were his only words acknowledging my presence, before he turned to Yeonjun, eyes full of warnings. The boy chuckled, eyes rolling slightly at the older man.

“Yes, Miss Detective finally introduced herself to me,” came his answer, and as far as subtlety goes, this one was about as obvious as the Moon in the sky. He could have just come straight out and say ‘don’t worry, I won’t spill, I know she’s police’, but nonetheless I was glad I wasn’t getting some rando in trouble with Hoseok.

Though, he did call him his baby. Probably not a rando then. I looked Hoseok up and down, ignoring his slightly peeved aura – a lover maybe? I guess for a man as busy as him it’d kind of make sense if he was messing around with the employees. Where else do you meet people to fuck when you’re Min Yoongi’s phantom.

My eyes flitted between the two men, the dots somewhat connecting, when Yeonjun’s embarrassed face caught my attention.

“I feel like there’s a misunderstanding happening,” he quipped in, watching us with wide but amused eyes, and I turned back to him. His dark black-reddish hair was glistening under the lights of the bar, and the unusual mixture of colours kept catching my eyes.

“Well, I had no idea I was talking to one of Hoseok’s babies,” I teased the man, though I sounded much too disgruntled to carry the vibe of care-free joking, “if you ever need help, I have a crucifix and garlic in the back of my car.”

Two different voices burst into laughter and filled the empty room almost to the brim, and I was flabbergasted by the chance that I made Hoseok laugh – but the second laugh wasn’t his (though I did see his lips twitch to smile). Suddenly there was an arm thrown over Hoseok’s shoulders where he stood leaning on the bar with his side, and Taehyung emerged from behind him with amused eyes sparkling at me. I paled.

Great.

“I don’t consider myself overtly religious, but I’ll take the garlic,” Hoseok joked back, for a moment taking a break from casting dark glances in my direction (which I greatly appreciated), “I’m sure hyung would find a use for it.” Hoseok had two hyungs, but at that moment Seokjin completely slipped my mind and it jumped straight to Yoongi “making use of it” and I frowned in disgust.

“How? To stuff it into the fresh wounds of his torture victims?” my lip turned down as I sneered, turning my face into this sardonic grimace, which Taehyung readily laughed at. I think it might have been this point where Yeonjun realised he probably was in over his head in this conversation, and the poor guy watched us throw not-so-friendly jabs left and right with an awkward smile.

“Wow, you’ve got quite the imagination,” Taehyung teased, pretending to be shocked by my ‘brutality’ and almost even going as far as to clutch his metaphorical pearls while I rolled my eyes to high heaven.

“Ever consider getting employed here? Sounds like you’d fit right in,” Hoseok’s voice cut through the room and hit right where it hurt, and it didn’t help that this was the first thing he genuinely laughed at.

A frown pulled at my face before I could stop it, and with the way my lips curled in barely supressed anger, it must have been clear to everyone the effect the words had on me. And I felt like a big old fool for getting angry at it – because it was like confirming an anxiety – like if they could see it in me then every worry I had about the state of my own morals was right and warranted. In a twisted sense, it wasn’t even his fault I was mad about it, and it sucked.

So I pulled myself together and played it off, ignoring the painful tug of my heart and the way it beat hard and fast, like it was trying to escape out of my chest. Like I was found out.

And to make matters even worse, that was the moment Yoongi stepped in – scanning the room with eyes that were already searching for me, a big silver briefcase in an AP watch adorned hand, sleek and elegant and put together as always.

He walked to us with a small smirk playing on his lips, but like he sensed my raging emotions he aimed straight for me – until he was standing so close to my side I was once again greeted with the spice of his perfume and the warmth of his body.

Throwing an arm around my shoulders much like Taehyung did to Hoseok, he sent the gathered men a mischievous reprimanding gaze. “Stop bullying my police officer, you know she tends to run away when spooked,” he joked, but I was too lost in my own mind to even snap back at how he clearly depicted me as some wild scared animal.

Because from the moment his arm touched me, it was like a scalding hot iron brand was wrought around my body – and I realised this might have been the first time we touched – it felt like the first time we touched, because I’d remember this kind of feeling running through my shuddering body. I’d remember what the overwhelming sense of being drowned in him felt like.

But then a memory flitted to the forefront – yes, we touched before. I crashed into him outside his office and he caught me (everything always coming back to that damned tracker). But why didn’t it feel like this? Why didn’t I feel the strange heat enveloping me from inside out and why didn’t I already have the scent of his cologne mixed with the slightest tang of sweat burned into my brain?

Because now I did.

The weight of his arm didn’t move, and when my crisis calmed down slightly, I could even hear the other’s voice as if from far away. I heard Yeonjun’s drawl and Taehyung’s laugh, I heard Hoseok’s high-pitched cheerful yelling now that Yoongi was here and I was out of the conversation. I also heard their steps when they walked away and the subsequent silence during which Yoongi still didn’t move.

I sat there quietly, hoping to vaporise into the air to not deal with this right now, but of course the man wouldn’t let me go now. When his hand clamped over my shoulder so he could steer me where he wanted me to go, I went easily, not fighting the momentum at all.

Yoongi pulled me through the club up the stairs to the VIP section, leading me to the already very familiar balcony, and still keeping me firmly under his arm even though it made our sides rub against each other – my cheap shirt to his expensive suit. As we passed the top bar, I realised Yeonjun moved from downstairs up here to repeat the whole process of the clean-up, and he sent me a little wave.

When we arrived into the privacy of the balcony, I was expecting Yoongi to immediately let go, but he even went as far as to deposit me on the sofa where Taehyung usually sat before he himself settled down in his own usual spot, watching me with an entertained smirk.

For what felt like hours no one said anything, and slowly I came down from my embarrassment to tap back into the endless frustration I had towards this man. It also didn’t help that now I felt almost miserably cold after spending those several minutes melting under his aura, and the way my body reacted to that made me both ashamed and confused.

Refusing to deal with another thing in the long line of forbidden topics that slowly built up around this man like some ancient mythos, I instead turned away to face the entrance, catching glimpses of busy feet running about while cleaning.

The silence now suddenly felt like a competition – who would break first and start the conversation? Who’d beg the other to speak?

So I stubbornly pursed my lips and avoided looking at the man.

Yeah, well, too bad I wasn’t exactly known for my patience.

“You know fucking your employees is bad for business?” I threw out the first thing that came to my mind, thoughts straying back to happy Hoseok screaming at the top of his lungs, “I’d expect a businessman like you to know that.”

Yoongi simply raised his eyebrow, looking on the verge of laughter as I stewed in my own anger.

“Having another jealous tantrum, are we?” he teased back, pointedly ignoring my jab and turning it around at me.

“Another? Jealous tantrum? I don’t know which one of us is constantly asking inappropriate personal questions,” I huffed and grumbled, still looking away from the man, “I’m talking about Hoseok and Yeonjun. He called him his baby.” I didn’t know why this was the hill I chose to die on, but my pride was a terrible thing and didn’t allow me to pull back now, much to Yoongi’s amusement.

I heard his chuckles, a melodic and almost ironically joyful sound, before he leant forward into my field of vision – holding my gaze now that I was caught back into his charm.

“Hobi calls them his babies because he trained them, not because he fucks them,” the man explained in that voice one uses on a petulant child, further ruffling my feathers, “He trained our babies too.” For a moment I wondered to who he was referring to as our babies, before the realisation that he was talking about Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook smacked me in the face and I blushed. Right, not ours but theirs.

“Hoseok trained everyone? I guess that does make sense,” I mumbled more to myself, leaning back into the sofa subconsciously to make myself more comfortable. The mental image of teenage Hoseok in a fighting ring flew in front of my eyes, all bloodied and fighting for his life like a dog, young and feral and scared. That he trained Jungkook made perfect sense, though Yeonjun – why would he need training? Was he more than just a chatty waiter?

But after all, in a life like this everyone needed to know how to fight at least a little. I knew how to fight and I barely ever got out of the office. Unless I was annoying Yoongi.

Speaking of the man, I finally turned to face him, finding him sitting comfortably in his spot watching me with curious eyes, a soft grin playing on his lips.

“So what have you got in the store for me on this fine morning?” the man asked conversationally, fingers twitching as if on instinct to grab a whiskey glass. Well, I guess that was our usual set-up, so I couldn’t blame him for being a little confused.

“Or maybe this month?” he fished more, trying to push me into a conversation. He probably thought I was still sulking, so I ignored how embarrassing that was of me and grinned at him like we were great friends.

“Nothing special,” I teased, going for that whole mysterious vibe and shit, hoping my theatrics hid the way I shook inside from all the events I’ve already gone through that day – and it was only a bit after 11 am. Crazy, is what I was.

“Really? All that talk about having such amazing games prepared for me and you have nothing special ready?” The reminder of our last meeting nearly made my eye twitch, though my expression did sour – much to the amusement of my host.

“What? Not even your detective’s amazing skills made you less mad about that evening?” Yoongi’s voice was so happy, like he stumbled on a diamond mine by accident, and I scrambled to shut that line of conversation down as quick as possible.

“No, no, no,” I wagged my finger in his direction like I was reprimanding a misbehaving dog, “We’re not discussing that. Stop bringing that up, I’m also not asking about what you were doing to that girl when you got the call to come to The Rose.” Yoongi’s eyes immediately lit up at the mention of that, pulling an annoyed groan out of me. I should really learn to keep my mouth shut sometimes.

“You could you know, I’m an open book,” he said, vibe dripping in self-assuredness to almost a maddening degree, as he draped himself over that red velvet sofa, dressed in his nice black suit and with an infuriatingly amused expression on his face, I could see clearly how unbothered he was by everything. How this was such a fun game for him. Pissing me off.

“That’s why I don’t,” I growled right back. I could already imagine how happily he’d divulge any details, as long as it made me embarrassed. I wouldn’t trust a single word coming out of his mouth, but I’d still blush and be angry and cuss him and run out, just to spend the whole day thinking of his teasing words. We’ve been here before – there was no need to test that again, I knew he was perfectly capable of spilling anything just for a reaction back.

The conversation stalled a little after that, as Yoongi seemed to be too busy watching me with sparkling eyes, like a cat playing with its food, and me like a mouse squirming in my seat, knowing I was always on the verge of being devoured by a giant. Yoongi’s smooth sharp claws were already deeply embedded into me, now it was only a matter of time when he’d get hungrier.

“I hope you’re at least putting my tracker to good use” was his next quip, after a moment of silence, and that’s how I knew he was really trying to piss me off. And almost loyally, I as always gave him that satisfaction he craved from that.

“Why are you so obsessed with the tracker?” my voice took on almost a whiney annoyed edge, drowning out the giggling of the man as my face twisted into an annoyed scowl.

“Well, it is mine.. And I have a very hard time parting from what belongs to me,” he drawled out, voice suddenly taking on a much more seductive quality, and I cursed him for really trying to pull out all the stops here.

I leant back into the sofa and looked at him, properly took him in for the first time that day. As always, he wore loose dress pants with an incredibly soft looking airy t-shirt tucked into them and a blazer thrown over that, all in black. I doubted I ever saw him in any other colour, taking the time to dip into my mental catalogue of Min Yoongi and only coming up with black, white and greys.

He was way more comfortable and relaxed than I ever remembered him, and that said a lot since we were talking about Yoongi here – the king of appearing unbothered by mortal affairs. Something just put him into an extraordinarily good mood today, and for a moment I feared he already knew about my visit to the Hana Bank head office. After all, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities they’d try to double check with Hoseok on whether he was cool with sharing his records with the police – but if that was true, I doubt the man himself would joke around with me at the bar.

“What, are you like a dragon protecting its hoard?” I shot back after a while, getting back to the teasing back and forth once Yoongi let me stare my fill, nothing but his lips quivering to stretch into a smirk betraying that he was paying close attention to my very obvious ogling.

“No, that would be silly,” the man chuckled, hand playing with the hem of his jacket almost coyly as he spun his tales, “I’m just a poor boy that got his grubby little hands on some gold and now doesn’t want to let go.”

“Some? I’d argue it’s way more than just some gold,” I gestured wildly around the balcony and the club, and even with the very lavish furnishing, it still felt like a criminal understatement. I’ve seen The Rose, I’ve been to his office – and I dare say that were I to visit his house, I’d see even more, not to mention his never-ending collection of expensive brand hand-tailored clothes. A normal person wouldn’t even be able to comprehend the amount of his wealth.

“Yeah? Are you impressed by the size of my empire?” his out-right coquettish tone didn’t really leave much space for me to misunderstand the clear innuendo, and I rolled my eyes at him.

“Gotta be impressed by the size of something,” I grumbled back, crossing my arms over my chest and doing my best to throw him the most uninterested glare I was capable of even with the heat in my cheeks at the subject we’ve found ourselves discussing.

“Well, why don’t you come over here and find out which is more impressive?” something dark flashed in his eyes as he said those words, legs parting on instinct and making everything a little more prominent to the eyes, “I know what I’m betting on.” I could have just combusted with how my eyes unwittingly slid down at the movement before I caught myself and forced them back up to watch his smirk turn sharper.

Even with the embarrassment flooding my system, I could feel the strange heat that spread through me at the look in his eyes and the words spilling out of his mouth in that rasp, and in shame I found my heart beating faster in some sort of twisted interest.

I squashed all that down, though there wasn’t much I could do about my flaming red cheeks. I hoped nothing more than mortification was visible in my expression though, because otherwise that would have been the end of me, and I’d never talk to the man again without him teasing me to death.

Fuck, I thought to myself, I’ve been neglecting myself more than I thought, because there’s no way Yoongi’s flirting was actually working on me.

“It better be the gold, Min Yoongi, otherwise you’d be a very stupid man,” I gritted through my teeth, through the humiliation, and tore my eyes away from the confusing mix of emotions flitting through the man’s eyes. I could swear I saw a flicker of open hunger in them, but I chose to lock the mental image of that deep down into myself, so deep that I’d never stumble upon it ever again.

When I looked to him again after a bout of tension-filled silence, he was already back to his self-assured relaxed self, smirking at me – though now there was a twinge of something in the edge of it, something that made my stomach roll in an unpleasantly positive way.

If I was counting our victories, this one would definitely go to Yoongi, and I knew I’d be feeling the aftermath for a long time.

“So you’re not here to talk about your colleagues breathing down my neck about certain murders that happened at Bukhang Port,” Yoongi sing-songed, like he was revealing some big secret – like he found me out and wasn’t fooled by my visit. I sat there flabbergasted.

Oh. Right. It had completely slipped my mind Minjoon and Hwang were going to go talk to Yoongi about it. Right, I did want to talk to him after the revelation was made, because I wanted to gloat and try to pull information out of him, but I was so swept away with my own plans that I was truly shocked he thought this is what today was about.

No wonder he was trying to push my buttons when I didn’t say anything – he wanted to provoke me into getting mad and pulling out the murders.

But I was also too embarrassed to admit to him that I had ended up here by a complete accident, so I just played along.

“Right… You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, Mr. Min?” I drawled out, playing my part as the detective – what he clearly wanted me to do, “I distinctly remember you lying to me about having no idea what happened there while slipping a tracker into my phone.”

“Me? Never,” he teased back, putting a hand to his chest and finally fucking pulling his legs more closed, “I don’t lie.”

Even with him basically spoon-feeding me the topic for conversation, I just couldn’t think of anything else to say – my brain was fried under the barrage of strange experiences I had this morning, and I couldn’t even pretend to be interested in those murders. And I ended up just… staring. At Yoongi.

To his great amusement.

“Well, alright,” he said finally when I failed to continue with the jabs, breaking our sacred ritual of pissing each other off until I run off, too angry to continue, “we can definitely go back to the earlier topic if you’ve got nothing to say on this one.” I couldn’t have that.

“They were drug dealers,” slipped out of my mouth, very intelligently, but at least it seemed to surprise the man for a bit before he smirked.

“Great job, detective,” he purred out, “What do you want as a reward for cracking such a tough case?” I flew forward before I even knew what I was doing.

“So you did know them?” He only smirked more, before pretending to turn disinterested in the conversation.

“I may have.”

I could see the way his eyes ever so often flicked to me to gauge my reaction, to see how interested I was with keeping the conversation alive, and I realised this was another game. A game to say just enough to keep engaging me, but never too much to actually give me anything. He just wanted me to banter.

“Yoongi,” I said his name, and it came out all weird, like I wasn’t meant to call him such to his face – but it did get his attention immediately with his eyes wide and jumping to me in a split second, “If you’re bored, I’m sure you can pay someone to keep you entertained. With the size of your empire, as we established, I’m sure you could afford that.”

When his smirk turned a little more savage, it felt like I won something too.

“Hey Min!” I called out to the man bent over his desk, punching something away into his computer. The second he heard my voice his head whipped up, and he smiled warmly my way. When I stepped closer to him, for a moment I worried he’d do something, but the man just sent me a sparkling wink and patted the seat next to him, which I took gladly.

“I’ve got a question,” I told him, and he chuckled, already used to my antics at the office. I did feel a little bad because I’ve been so over the place the last month, but there was a lot on my plate – and if everything panned out, there was about to be even more.

“Fire away,” he sighed and leant back into his chair, arms folding behind his head.

“When you went to Yoongi about the warehouse murders, what did he say?” I hoped my tone wasn’t too eager. Hoped there wasn’t that strange waiver after the kind of morning I had – after the things we said to each other in that empty silent balcony. Hoped he couldn’t reach into my mind and see how jittery I still was from the interaction.

Cause Yoongi sure could – to him I was more than an open book. Sometimes it felt like he could predict me, and it left me worried when I interacted with other people – people that weren’t supposed to see what I didn’t mind showing Yoongi, because he was already a lost cause.

Minjoon though… Minjoon couldn’t see, not when he looked at me with those excited hopeful eyes. Why did I feel as if I cheated on him? That was ridiculous.

“Well, he deflected as always,” the detective said, cutting straight through my inner turmoil, “told us he didn’t see why we bothered him with something that had nothing to do with any of his businesses. Couldn’t get a single word out of him about it.”

The man grimaced and gestured to his face vaguely before continuing. “Did that annoying thing he does… you know, when you just know he’s lying to you because he’s straight up laughing in your face, but doesn’t really say anything, so you’re just really mad?” He chuckled tiredly, and I felt terrible.

The revelation that Yoongi himself admitted to me just hours ago sat parked on the tip of my tongue, and I so desperately wanted to shout out that he knew the men who died – but how would I be able to explain having that information? How valuable really is something that was said between teasing jabs during a conversation that shouldn’t have been happening?

I swallowed those words, and they went down bitterly – but there wasn’t anything I could do to help Minjoon right now. If I shared, he’d only be suspicious of me. If I told him to not ask how I knew, he wouldn’t be able to bring the tip to anyone else anyway, without an unconfirmed source it was useless – and I couldn’t afford to further fall down the rabbit hole of lies and invent a convenient informant.

“Well, that’s just typical of him,” I ended up saying, somewhat awkwardly trying to play the whole thing off and change the subject, even though I was the one who brought it up.

“Hey, are you free tomorrow night?” Minjoon suddenly asked, totally out of nowhere, turning more towards me with a coquettish look on his face, and I felt simultaneously flustered and mortified. A quick cursory glance of the office showed that no one was really around, and those who were had their noses stuck deep into their own work and business, but still a shrill note of panic flew through me upon his open flirtation.

“Actually, I’m most probably going to need to stay late, so I gotta pass,” I answered, not even lying but still feeling guilty, especially with how Minjoon’s face fell. I wished I could explain to him more what was going on in my life – enough so that he wouldn’t think I’m just trying to dodge him – but I couldn’t. At least not now.

Not when he still wouldn’t understand why and what I was doing.

“But I could probably meet up the day after…?” I added after a moment, whispering the words into existence as if they were deeply forbidden; cursing my soft heart and cursing how I couldn’t stop myself from slipping – not when it came to Yoongi, and not when it came to Minjoon either.

The man’s face lit up like I’d told him Santa was real, and for a split second he reached over to grab my hand and squeeze it, before letting go and leaning into his chair again. The action was so quick even I had trouble processing what had just happened, but I still cast a quick glance around the room to make sure no curious eyes were on us.

Even with me all jittery and squirming on the seat, the man was unbothered as he returned to his computer, back to furiously typing out something. I glanced over his shoulder to peek in, meaning it as just a playful gesture, and Minjoon let me with a little grin.

What I got an eyeful of though was a team report about the murders full of information I hadn’t heard of. My name wasn’t on it.

My heart sank, but I was already used to living with that feeling.

I ended up waiting for those records until the afternoon the next day, when I finally got a very unpleasant email from even more disgruntled Mr. Kim linking a file with the last year worth of Hoseok’s finances. He very begrudgingly admitted their lawyers gave the form the green light after looking it over just to be sure, and I felt an immense sense of vindication. In the end the ‘justice’ prevailed, no matter what the truth really was.

I could hardly keep back the excitement, the burning need to look through them wracking through every nerve of my being, but I was too afraid of someone seeing what I was doing, so I had to painstakingly wait the whole day until the office emptied out, pretending to keep busy by menial tasks.

I’ve long since realised that no one really paid attention to what I did, and at least sometimes there was an advantage to that.

With the hours counting up on the clock, the office slowly emptied out – Park rushing out in his usual manner, slamming doors open and running through the space like a storm, while Minjoon took the time to stop by my table with a smile and a discreet wink, gesturing to his phone as he texted me he couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

I also made the decision to stop waiting on every little breadcrumb they decide to drop for me, tired of the way I begged every little information out of Minjoon. After seeing him write up his report yesterday afternoon, I decided rather than going the usual route and pestering him until he told me everything, I’d just simply request the document and read up on the case as he wrote it for Park – quickly realising there were many reports – way more than I was expecting, detailing everything, and most of all things that no one bothered telling me up until then.

So instead of doing anything productive or endlessly going through old cases, I sat down with the reports, catching up on everything that I missed by not being updated properly.

There was a lot of material. Interviews with dock workers I wasn’t notified about (they all denied hearing or seeing anything), one more visit to Mrs. Kim (which didn’t yield much of anything when she plainly refused to see them), endless references to in-person meetings and team briefings I was never invited to.

The latest one was full of frustration on Minjoon’s part – the still unknown third man, the stubbornly quiet people from the neighbourhood, Yoongi’s silence on the topic. From the first reports where he swore these must have been turf wars, he now made a pivot back to a drug deal gone wrong, citing Mrs. Kim’s words as the reason. He didn’t know why though. He just had several pieces of the very infuriating puzzle, but not enough to put together a clear picture.

What we knew was scarce – these boys were playing with things beyond their scales, they got into a skirmish with Yoongi, and found themselves solved by Hoseok. Who were they, how they got there and what they did to invite such trouble – we knew very little about that.

My name was mentioned in a few of those reports, mostly where Minjoon recounted my work on assembling the cases and looking into the Moon Jiwoo case, but otherwise it was all between him and Hwang, with the occasional quip from Cheol or Sunmi.

By the time evening came, I was so beaten down by the reports I almost didn’t even notice when finally the last person left the office and I was alone, free to comfortably investigate my own things without someone constantly walking behind my back.

Well, clearly my path to this unit didn’t lead through this team – it would have to lead through Yoongi himself then, and I was determined to put the work in.

Hoseok’s records were long and disorienting at first – a mess of numbers and locations that were foreign to me, and I spent a lot of time just googling names of places and putting them on the map.

About halfway through I got up and pulled the neighbouring table closer to add a second monitor to my own, so that I could comfortably see both. I felt both like a professional and like some underground vigilante, but it did significantly ease the whole process to me.

I spent hours there, just scrolling through endless spreadsheets, linking Hoseok’s whereabouts to several main areas.

Mostly the man just spent concerning amounts of money on clothes, watches and collector editions of sneakers (really, when I first saw the amount of money spent on a single shopping trip, I almost fell out of my chair), but after few very boring and confusing pages a few patterns started to emerge.

He liked to visit a small café near Jungkook’s office, he clearly had a favourite spot to have a lunch in for when he spent time around the docks. He spent a lot of money on food delivery – the amounts making me think they were probably for a team of people and not just for him. A lot of purchases happened in Gangnam too, real close to where Yoongi lived, which meant he might be living somewhere in that area too.

One of the more noteworthy ones were his weekly visits to a place called the Golden Lily, which at first glance seemed like a restaurant, but after some further digging turned out to be a very high-end brothel. As far as I could see, every Thursday without fail Hoseok went to this establishment and dropped a fat check there, probably paying for something even my wildest imagination couldn’t come up with (and honestly, I’d rather not try). Well, clearly I managed to stumble upon one of his vices – though he seemed like a man of many, with how much money he dropped everywhere he went.

After hours of going through the records and barely getting back a few months, I was fucking ready to pack it in and be happy with the info I was able to gather so far, but the combination of fear I’d miss something huge and the pure pettiness of ‘I committed a crime for this, so I’m fucking using it to the fullest’ kept me going long into the night – to a point I resigned myself to sleeping over at one of the couches in the break room. It wasn’t the most comfortable fit ever, but it would do.

And approaching 2 am, I finally came across something that was worth the determination and the pure torture I put myself through.

At the beginning of January of this year, Hoseok’s location suddenly shifted. The usual coffee spot didn’t come up, nor the odd little transactions from around Gangnam or Bukseong Port, and instead it filled with purchases in hotels and restaurants in Busan. Then Japan. Then Busan again. Then Seoul.

I looked through it again and immediately something screamed to me that this was somehow significant. It was just a few days, but it could have easily been a work trip – I knew that Yoongi had ties to yakuza, and Hoseok didn’t seem the type to go on vacations.

A woman on a mission, I quickly ran over to the meeting room, frantically looking through ‘the Yoongi wall’ and searching for any mention of his Japanese gang ties, but wasn’t able to find anything more than a brief mention of him being seen meeting up with Sato Masaru, which had to do as far as information went.

Running back like a headless chicken I slid onto my chair so hard it wheeled halfway across the room, and I had to awkwardly shuffle back to my table, where I logged back into the internal police database and quickly pulled any files I could find on the man.

There were also plenty, though most of them weren’t specifically about him but about his family as a whole (and his older brother mostly), and they were all signed off by names that were vaguely familiar to me as my colleagues, but I couldn’t think of whether I’d had a single conversation with either of those men.

A quick read-through (which I did clutching a cup of coffee and desperately trying to stay awake as my eyes started closing by themselves) told me that apparently, they were a family Yoongi struck up a connection with immediately after he claimed his throne. The oldest son of the family, Sato Daichi, at the time started taking over the ‘family business’ and took a liking to the struggling boy of a similar age, and the two empires have been moderately friendly over the years.

Problem was – Satos were based in Fukuoka and controlled most of the trade with Busan and Korea. Hoseok didn’t go to Fukuoka.

Double-checking just to be sure, squinting into the brightly lit monitor, I once again googled the name of the hotel he stayed at – and it was located in Kitakyushu, a city northeast of Fukuoka.

When running that name through our database didn’t give me much of anything, I groaned in frustration – because what do you mean that after spending hours on this and stumbling upon the first potentially interesting thing, it turns out to be a dead-end? Hoseok was really starting to piss me off with this.

After a few more failed attempts at finding out why that city specifically could be significant to Hoseok and Yoongi, I dejectedly went back to the financial records. And then, looking at the dates, something just… clicked in me.

Why did they feel so familiar? Why did I vaguely remember something happening at that time?

Absolutely crazed and on the verge of passing out from exhaustion, I dived under my table to fish out my bag, spilling it all over the floor in the process of raking through it with the grace of a bridge troll – I was able to find what I was looking for. My little black notebook, full of bullshit and useless little tidbits about Yoongi. Like what coffee he liked to drink, because I was genuinely insane and wrote down everything (also it wasn’t that hard to not remember – he liked plain unsweetened americano, and even during winter he alternated between getting the hot and the iced version).

Included in those notes were a few days of angry rambling – me losing my mind about Hoseok being nowhere to be found and wondering what the fuck was he doing and where. And the dates matched – even to the point of the very embarrassing stake out when Yoongi had Soobin bring me coffee happening only like four days after his return. And the warehouse murders happened a day before he left.

In a scrawl that was undecipherable even to me I wrote down the connection I seemingly made and with shaky hands turned back to the map of Japan I had pulled up and the Sato family files, reading through them again with more presence, though it took absolutely everything of me to not just fall asleep on the spot.

I was hoping that maybe I’d find a mention of the city – a suspected base, a warehouse, a fucking summer getaway cottage or some shit, just anything to signal why Hoseok travelled there of all the places, but the Satos infuriatingly seemed completely straying clear of there.

For a moment I even wondered whether I actually lost my mind and this was just a normal vacation. Everybody needed a break sometimes, didn’t they?

But then I noticed something – through the files and the reports, there was a name that kept coming up every once in a while – and from the way the detectives spoke of him, he must have been close to our unit. Baek-sunbaenim.

Going back to square one, I put his name into our database and was met with a friendly middle-aged face, distinctive black curls already greying through and an unkempt stubble giving him a bit of a rugged vibe. He seemed like the perfect example of a merry neighbourhood policeman – and he was apparently the chief of Busan’s narcotics and organised crime unit.

There, sitting by the brightly shining computer, eyes tearing up, completely deranged, at 3 am – the idea that suddenly burst into my mind like a wrecking ball through a cardboard wall seemed like the best one I’ve ever had.

Hoseok went to Japan around the time the murders happened. He didn’t visit the family Min gang was affiliated with, and instead went to a different city. He stopped in Busan both on the way there and on the way back.

Busan was somehow important. Baek-sunbaenim seemed to have a lot of expertise on Japan’s current crime scene, and he was in Busan.

Who was also in Busan? Cheol and Sunmi, chasing a serial killer.

Quickly turning everything off, I pulled away from the table and promptly stumbled like a drunken sailor the moment I tried getting on my feet. The world swung in front of my eyes for a moment before everything righted, and with shaky hands I grabbed everything I could see from the floor, stuffed it back into my bag and started the long and exhausting shuffle to the break room.

As I dragged my feet through the office, I reached for my phone.

There weren’t many people I was in contact with – the very few I usually kept up with offline, and there was little need for any kind of electronical communication. What was work related was kept to my email. Yoongi didn’t have my number, and I didn’t keep in touch with people from my childhood. As such, when I opened the messages app, the only chat that had been active in the past week was Minjoon’s still unread text about tomorrow’s dinner, and so it didn’t take long at all to find the only other person I’d been recently (in the past three months) texting.

Cheol picked up my call on the third ring, groaning into my ear sleepily with a healthy dose of annoyance, and I guiltily realised I was calling him literally in the middle of the night and other people actually slept instead of endlessly scrolling through miles of white spreadsheets until they were crying from the exposure (among other things).

“What happened?” his voice was all scratchy and raspy from being woken up, but I could still sense the tinge of worry as the detective started coming more to himself. There weren’t many reasons police officers called each other in the middle of the night, and none of them were good, so I couldn’t blame him for expecting some bad news.

With more guilt pushing into my heart, I vowed myself to buy the man at least a breakfast, a lunch and a dinner once I’d get the chance to, and with an equally tired voice I replied.

“Hey, Cheol… Do you think I could maybe come down to you to Busan? It’s work related…”

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dayseternal-blog · 1 year ago

Note

Hii do you know some fics where Naruto pretends to not know hinata's feeling for him

hmmm

in these two, Naruto pretends to not have feelings for Hinata, it's dark!Naruto -

"Psychosis" from "NaruHina Erotica Oneshots" by @makuro767 - Rated E, Canon-Divergent AU, One-shot. There's madness in the blood of Namikaze. If the Uchiha was cursed by Hatred, then Namikaze is cursed by Love

and

"Incubus" from "NaruHina Erotica Oneshots" by Makuro767 - Rated E, High School AU, One-shot. It’s not a fairytale love story. It’s not a teenage romance. She didn’t even know if this can be considered romance.

since it's dark!Naruto, it like.....doesn't matter what Hinata feels for him. So, not exactly what you're asking for.

hmmm, you might like this funny one haha, but it's sorta the opposite?, or going both ways?:

"Dense II" from "Blue and White Eyes" by kiiam - Rated T, Canon-Divergent AU, One-shot. Naruto had been called dense by many people. He was considered very, very dense.

I feel like there should be a better one than these?????? I'm sure that I've read one where Naruto's pretending to not know for the funsies...

oh, here's another dark!Naruto one where he pretends to not know Hinata:

“Insanity” by Sadistic One - Rated E for GRAPHIC MURDER, College AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. The smell of his cologne and slight musk was the first thing that caught Hyuga Hinata’s attention. She eventually found out that smell belonged to a young man named Uzumaki Naruto. Ever since that encounter, she couldn’t stop following him and watching his every move. She needed to know who he hanged out with, his hobbies likes and dislikes. She even transferred to his school to study him more closely. But as those months went on, she discovered Naruto was not who he portrayed to be to his peers, but a cold-blooded murderer. Is this enough to put a stop to Hinata’s obsession or will it draw her closer to her own insanity?

wait, here's another dark!Naruto that pretends to not know Hinata's feelings:

“October - Horror” by @chloelapomme - Rated T, High School AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. When despair turns into a feeling of love so intense that obsession is the only thing that can help you protect the one you love.

okay, so 4 dark!Naruto fanfic recommendations and only 1 somewhat normally characterized fanfic. I guess Naruto pretending not to know Hinata's feelings is only something a crazy Naruto would do lol

If anyone thinks of others, please add on!!!!!

#anon #naruhina fanfic recs #dark!NaruHina

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heroesrest64 · 3 months ago

Text

Haunting Heroes

Other parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Chapter 9: Weary Wonderment

Chapter Summary: How many times can one person pass out in a day before it becomes a Problem?

You can read the chapter here on ao3

Chapter under the cut :)

“You know, once you get past the torn flesh and mind-melting horror of it all, you aren’t half bad to look at.” You admit, wrapped in a blanket cocoon and clutching a cup of tea that you’re pretty sure Wild made for you while you were passed out at your kitchen table. Hyrule smiles nervously across the table, rubbing the back of his neck in a boyish show of bashfulness.

“I didn’t think you’d actually pass out from seeing me. The first time I saw a ghost myself, I got physically ill, but I guess your body has a different reaction to spirits.” Hyrule hums, pressing a blood soaked finger to his bottom lip. You half expect it to stain, but you’re starting to learn that the injuries on his body are almost purely cosmetic. The blood doesn’t rub off on anything, and despite his dead eye, he can see perfectly well.

“I guess… Why did you even need to see ghosts? For like, a quest or something?” You ask, genuinely curious. Hyrule flushes, his cheeks tinged a pleasant red, and he glances away with a nervous smile.

“Haha, I actually used to have an item to see ghosts… but I lost it. I was really into magic theory at the time, so I kinda… reverse-engineered the spell into a functioning tonic.” Hyrule shrugs, like it’s no big deal. You aren’t too familiar with magic yourself, but that sounds like quite the feat of magical science to you.

“I don’t even know how that would work. Do you think you could show me how to do magic like that?” You ask, excitedly drawing Hyrule’s tome closer to your chest.

“Sure! I-“ Hyrule cuts himself off, looking to the side just as you feel a chill brush up against you. You figure Four must’ve come into the room and is talking to the ghost in front of you, and eventually Hyrule turns his attention back to you.

“Four is asking if you want to talk to the rest of us. Everyone except Time is here.”

“Ah! I completely forgot! I guess I was just happy to get to talk to even one of you, but I can speak to all of you now, can’t I?” You grin, shooting up from your seat. Hyrule begins to float away, guiding you to the office where all of their anchors are apparently gathered.

“Are you sure you can handle looking at all of us? I don’t want you passing out again…” Hyrule frets, wringing his hands in front of himself. You wave vaguely, already reaching for Wild’s tablet which has been charging in the corner of the room since you found it.

“It shouldn’t be that bad. I got used to you pretty quickly-“ You pause, finding yourself faced with the same man from the forest from almost a week ago. Long blonde hair, electric blue eyes. He even has a ghostly version of the tablet clipped to his belt. But that’s not what catches your attention. Instead, your eyes stray to where his right arm should be, only to find a bloody stub. Your throat constricts, bile rising in your throat, and you take a moment to just- breathe.

Apparently the injuries can get worse than a lightning strike through the eye. Wild extends his remaining arm, clutching at the air between the two of you as if to try and catch you. You appreciate the effort, taking his hand and letting him lead you safely to the floor.

“Are you okay? Should I grab you some water?” Wild asks, squeezing your hand in reassurance as you take in a couple more breaths, trying to make sure you won’t throw up while trying to answer him.

“I’m fine- just startled. Are you- okay?” You ask, and immediately regret it. Of course he’s not okay. He’s dead.

“Oh, this old thing? Y’know, getting my arm ripped off probably isn’t the worst injury I’ve gotten, but I guess the blood loss got me in the end.” Wild jokes, leaning back on the balls of his feet, grinning as you try to process his words. He got his arm ripped off. And he’s joking about it.

It’s so absurd that you can’t help but laugh. Luckily, Wild and Hyrule join in, and you move to stand back up to continue finding the anchors in your office.

“Luckily not all of us have such ugly injuries,” Hyrule hums while you walk to where you left Twilight's rock.

“Don’t talk like that… You guys died. Of course it’s not going to be pretty. Even so… You guys are,” You pause heat pooling in your cheeks as you consider what you were about to say. Were you really about to call them handsome after seeing them for only a couple minutes?

To be fair, they truthfully were very handsome, looking almost rugged due to their injuries, but with a charm you were beginning to suspect was a trait all heroes carried.

You only got more of a confirmation when you picked up Twilight's rock and were met with the disheveled man, his nearly brown hair tousled, some slight scratches on his cheeks but otherwise looking less injured than the other two. You do notice his shirt is torn around the shoulder, and when you carefully circle him, there are claw-like gashes raking down his back.

It must be something about seeing the killing strike that sets you off, because immediately after seeing the wounds, you feel your knees lock, and you’re pretty sure your vision goes white for a second. Your doctor will be having words with you if you ever tell them about all of the fainting spells you’ve been having.

“Might wanna slow down there, darlin’. Maybe we should take a break. I don’t want you hurtin’ yourself.” Twilight drawls in a country accent that suits him a little too well. You hum your agreement, pocketing his rock, and are a little surprised when he doesn’t disappear. Does the potion work as long as the anchor is on your person? You suppose that makes sense to a certain degree.

“Why is you anchor a rock, anyway? Everyone else has like cool books and swords and stuff.” You point out, and Twilight looks off to the side like he’s debating whether to tell you or not.

“It’s not just a rock. It’s a Shadow Crystal, a piece of Twilight meant to curse all who touch it.” Twilight explains, and you let out a curious hum, turning the crystal around in your hand.

“Does that mean I’m cursed now?” You ask, feeling a nervous thrill shoot down your spine. That would be the cherry on top of your haunted sundae now wouldn’t it?

“Luckily, no. I can control when it activates now that I’m anchored to it.” Twilight grins, and a little fang pokes out of his smile. how can one man look so cute? Heat trickles into your cheeks, and you quickly look away, conveniently making eye contact with the Master Sword in the next second.

“So Sky is connected to the master sword… Maybe knowing what injuries he has beforehand will help?” You wonder, hand hovering over the hilt of the sword.

“He was the first of us to die that night. Killed in his sleep before any of us even knew what happened.” Twilight bites out, upset by the events. Wild sets a hand on his shoulder, giving him a reassuring look.

“He was stabbed through the chest and bled out.” Hyrule finishes the explanation, looking off to the side. Your mouth is dry, and you swallow hard, trying to imagine what the man would even look like. It sounds horrible. But to be targeted first, and while asleep, no less…

Was Sky such a big threat that whatever villain attacked them needed him dead before everyone else?

You wrap your hand around the Master Sword’s handle, picking it up almost reverently. Sky appears before your eyes, his eyes grey as slate, like a downcast day. Like Hyrule described, there’s a stab wound in the middle of his chest, standing out bright and red against his embroidered green tunic. You take in a sharp breath, but luckily don’t feel like fainting this time. Instead, you feel dread crawl up your spine and an odd sense of loss.

“Do you feel okay? No fainting spells, or..?” Sky frets, voice soft and filled with worry as he floats closer. You swallow around the lump in your throat, offering a shaky smile.

“I’m fine. Better than the last few times. It’s still startling, but I think this is better.” You swing the master sword onto your shoulder, only now realizing that it might be a little difficult to keep a bunch of sacred relics on your person at a single time. It feels a little irreverent to just wear them, but what other choice do you have?

“Who do you want to meet next?” Wild asks, sliding up beside you now that you’ve grabbed all of the known anchors in the room.

“How about Four?” You suggest, a chill brushing up against you at your words.

“His anchor would be this shield over here-“ Twilight calls out, pointing to a shield displayed on the wall. There’s a staff with a red gem on it next to it, which you suspect is probably somebody else’s anchor.

“Four was separated from the group, transported to a wintery landscape where he eventually succumbed to the elements without his equipment. For us, he was only gone for an hour at most. For him, it must’ve been weeks.” Hyrule explains, and you wince at the new information. Each death seems to be more gruesome than the last. Whoever was attacking these heroes did so with calculated intent.

Taking the shield from its wall mount, you finally turn your attention to the cold pocket inside of the room, finally coming face to face with Four. He offers a smile, skin looking bruised from the frostbite he must’ve experienced before his death. Whatever skin isn’t purpled and bruised is pale and tinted a cold blue. He looks like a frail sculpture carved from ice.

“Don’t go crying on me, now.” Four grins, ice-chapped lips tugging up in a way that looks almost painful. You know the ghosts can’t actually feel pain, but to have died from exposure and the cold in such a gruesome way…

“I’m not crying. Say, this person that killed you guys- they wouldn’t happen to still be around, would they?” You ask, jokingly cracking your knuckles. Four laughs loudly, clutching his stomach with the force of the action.

“You really think you could take him on?” He asks, grinning down at you.

“Maybe not, but I could give him a piece of my mind.” Your grin turns wolfish, and Four continues to laugh.

After a while, you turn your attention towards the staff still on display, asking if it might be one of their anchors.

“That’s Legend’s. He was hit with a paralytic pretty early on, but before he could really recover, they shot him through his throat and he bled out. Still managed to do some damage despite all of that.” Wild gives a sideways smile, elbowing the open air beside him. You suppose that’s where Legend is, and pick up the staff to confirm.

Legend looks unamused, swatting at Wild who’s still playfully jabbing at him. Like Wild described, there’s an arrow shot through the front of his throat, the sharp tip piercing all the way through to the other side of his neck. His tunic is stained with blood from the injury, and you quickly look away before you can become any more nauseous.

“Sorry, I know it’s a gruesome sight.” Legend apologizes, voice smooth, and you realize this is your first time hearing his real voice. Before, it was always chopped up lines of whatever you’d said yourself, or words taken from calls you answered on speakerphone. He has a pretty nice voice, you have to admit.

“Don’t apologize. I think you’re beautiful.” You admit truthfully. Past the blood and the bruises, he still somehow carries a boyish innocence. A playful side with a bite to it. Even if this is your first time hearing his actual voice, you know exactly how he speaks, snarky and sarcastic but capable of being serious when the situation calls for it. The tinge of a blush covering his cheeks at your words isn’t half bad to look at, either.

“Wind’s been begging for his turn. We should move on before he explodes.” Sky laughs, floating over to a pure white baton set on a small display stand. You move to pick it up, but Wild’s hand on your arm stops you.

“It might be kind of rough. He’s still…” Wild starts, turning to look behind him. You wonder if Wind is standing there. You have your own theories on Wind, his identity and how he died, but you decide to wait for your friends to explain it to you.

“There’s a basin a little further into the forest. It had rained recently, filling it up, and the rest of us were too overwhelmed. By the time anyone noticed, he was already…” Twilight chokes on his words, covering his mouth with his hand.

“We should have been there for him. Out of any of us…” Sky glares at his hands, seeming broken up about the event, and you frown, taking the baton in your hand, only to see exactly why everyone is reacting how they are.

Wind is… He’s a kid. He can’t be over thirteen, nearly a head shorter than most of the rest of the heroes. You know monsters are called what they are for a reason, but to have drowned a kid so young is still- it feels like too much. Your eyes well up with tears, and you find yourself stumbling forward, hands outstretched to hold the blue tinged child in your hands.

You stumble right through him, and that only serves to break you down more as the tears finally fall and start rolling down your cheeks as you grip at open air. There’s a sniffle from overhead, and you glance up to see Wind quietly wiping at his cheeks and runny nose as his own tears start to spill. They splash on your head, real and heartbreaking as Wind eventually falls to his knees , hugging you tightly as his tears stain your shirt- the only part of him that you can feel, but at the moment, it’s the only part that matters.

“How could they do this to you… sweet boy, you deserved better than this.” You whisper into sodden golden lockes- still dripping with water from the basin that took his life. Wind chokes on whatever his response was meant to be, continuing to cry and attempt to hold you ever more tightly, your shirt becoming soaked as his abilities run wild.

Something warm and soft covers your back, and you peek up to see the dark blue blanket that you usually wrap yourself in when it gets too cold in the office. You also see somebody new- Warriors, smiling down at you, left arm mangled and bloody splotches covering his face and clothes. He’s also wearing a blood soaked scarf which looks suspiciously like the blanket now covering your back.

“I know there’s nothing I can do about what happened… But I promise I’ll do my best to help you guys from here on.” You whisper, reaching up to wipe the tears from Wind’s face before standing fully to address all of the ghosts in the room.

“Time is gone for now, right? In that case, while we wait for him to catch back up with us… What do you guys say to a little outing?”

#linked universe x reader #fanfic #haunting heroes

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pitter-patt-art · 11 months ago

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Ace Attorney AU August (halfway progress update!)

Okay technically it's the 16th (lol, 17th by the time this is done) so a little over halfway actually, but still I thought since I haven't had anything finished to post the past few days this would be a fun alternative!

I've been going a little nuts (affectionate) over @augustwritingchallenge's AU-gust prompts list this year so August has been a wild ride (about 40k words of one, in fact. so far.) but seeing as I will get attached to even the jokiest of AU ideas instantly, I've completed* a whopping 5 whole fics of 16, lol. Considering the shortest of those is over 3k and the longest is over 12k, I think the problem with not finishing these in a timely manner is entirely on my verbose foolish thick skull, haha, but I'm still having a blast with it.

Here is my ao3 series where I'm posting!

And a rundown / progress report / quick teaser of all the AUs including those I've yet to finish, if anyone's interested:

(*by "completed" I should note two of the already posted fics are basically assuredly going to be continued past the challenge, but let's say "completed enough to post and be on theme")

1. Canon Divergence - complete - 4.5k words ("For the Murder of Mr. Wrong" link)

Mia POV, gen. What if Dahlia succeeded in poisoning Phoenix and framed Doug Swallow instead (and then Mia defended him in court)? Basically a 3-1 rewrite. Fun Fact: I only came up with this AU because before I even remembered AU-gust existed at all, I'd come up with like 4 totally separate AUs in which I poison Phoenix in various ways With Real Consequences because it amuses me, lol, but he survives all those other ones and I eventually realized I hadn't even considered straight up killing him off yet so I figured I should try it at least once, haha.

2. Colorless - complete 1st chapter - 3.2k words ("Grey Matters" link)

Phoenix POV (for 1st ch --prob alternating after), wrightworth. "You can't see color until the first time you touch your soulmate"-soulmate AU. 1st chapter is their first meeting as kids (skipping the class trial itself). Fun Fact(s): I really love a color soulmate AU! Big fan of the "only see the color of their eyes" type of one too but uhhh on top of that working better for things that have wild anime eye colors, you could not pay me enough to try to figure out what the HELL is going on with Ace Attorney eye colors at any given time lmfao. (Also--spoilers for what i haven't written yet but hey if you're here you earned it--this IS one of my very many "teehee what if i poison Phoenix just a smidge as a treat for me" fics. NOT my fault the man ATE GLASS. That's on him.)

3. Dark Academia - complete "1st chapter" - 4.4k words ("The Spirit of the Laws of Magic" link)

Mia POV, lanamia. Magical boarding school setting featuring corruption and missing-student conspiracies and a most likely overthought system of magic with hierarchies and prejudices in societal views of academic/formulaic vs folk/innate magic. Fun Fact: I really thought for SURE i was going to skip this day entirely, lol. (foolish.) I don't think i've actually ever personally read anything "dark academia", technically--so if this doesn't read EXACTLY that way, there you go, but i did my best. I also then thought I could live with keeping this vague but I accidentally thought about it too long so... plus at least two people on top of myself at this point have expressed interest in more of this and so I have some semi-concrete Plans™ now.

4. Zombie Apocalypse - conceptualized (but not started)

Concept: probably gen and Phoenix POV, but also because I'm me and they're them, at least a little bit wrightworth even if it isn't necessarily explicit in any meaningful way bc they are Not Normal about each other lol. A little sketchy on how much of an "AU" this counts for, since it could probably be argued to be canon compliant somehow, but basically just: Universe where they make a Pride and Prejudice and Zombies-type Steel Samurai reboot movie thing (featuring, you guessed it, zombies), and Miles comes over and forces Phoenix to watch it with him just to have someone to bitch about it at, and then during that time Maya blows her way into Phoenix's apartment as well with the exact same intentions except her "day job" isn't quite as time-sensitive-strict so she's already finished watching it earlier and knows all the spoilers. Honestly a good chance Phoenix and Pearl (who came with Maya) end up hiding out in the kitchen together to let Maya and Miles rile each other up in front of the TV, but I'm never exactly sure where they'll take me once I wind them up and set them loose on the page, so who knows. I also hadn't necessarily determined the exact time frame yet but for it to make sense as a reboot-type movie/special episode/whatever it probably should be 7yg-or-later so Trucy may or may not be there as well. (That said, in my struggles to complete an actually short one-shot, I probably shouldn't even include Pearl let alone Trucy, lol.) Fun Fact: I also thought I'd skip this day bc I'm not the biggest zombie guy in the world, and to be fair, I managed to do Way Less with it than the dark academia prompt so, yippie?

5. Chess Players - incomplete (currently 3k word WIP)

Miles POV, wrightworth. Miles is a chess grandmaster and back in Japanifornia for the upcoming world cup tournament, but his greatest challenge is actually to FINALLY best Franziska in their annual who-can-get-the-best-Christmas-gift competition. Luckily, he just so happened to hear of an artist who makes bespoke chess sets, so the plan is to get a custom board made for Franziska without her finding out. The plan is not to get trapped in a weird art collective labyrinth with some model-photographer named Cindy who keeps hitting on him but also happens to be protective of the artist he's there to see because "she and her boyfriend kinda-sorta owe him big time", but this is what he gets for coming here without doing any extra research into the artist besides seeing his work and hearing only "his name is White, or, eh, something like that, you know how those artist types are" from Mr. Amano. (AU where we replace law with chess and no I don't think Phoenix could necessarily hack it in the top-world-grandmasters-level of chess tournaments HOWEVER have you considered he DID go to art school so what if he just tries selling custom chess sets until somehow that reconnects him with Miles. Is that somehow a more insane plan than studying law? Maybe. Did Manfred still shoot Gregory but now it was over fucking chess? Maybe. Idk. But I did let Greg live this time at least!) Fun Fact: we can all DEFINITIVELY blame my lovely, terrible, very wonderful friend Ben (shameless friend plug! she's an outstanding writer and has some AA fics of her own too!! @kindlystrawberry on tumblr!!) for making a total joke about "well what about au where they make chess pieces instead" while i lamented not knowing enough about chess to write an actual match and spawning this ENTIRE concept. It is her fault. 100%. She is the guilty party. (I want to finish this one VERY BADLY. Save me.)

EVIDENCE!!!!! Guilty.

6. Reality Show - incomplete (currently 700 word WIP)

Phoenix (& Franziska) POV(s), background wrightworth wedding planning going on as set up but it's also definitely just one of my many excuses to set Phoenix and Franziska up as bitchy worsties who can't admit they enjoy each other's company and will cut you down if you suggest it as such. So far I've only written the quote "set-up" section which is in Phoenix's POV, but that was SUPPOSED to be like 5 paragraphs and cut away and then lead into my actual plan for the main body, which was to be in Franz's instead, so. This is very similar to the zombie one in that it's them watching reality tv instead of being contestants on a show (I don't personally like or watch a lot of reality tv so my creative well was somewhat dry on how to make that work) and then I accidentally thought about Phoenix and Franziska watching something just to judge and tear apart the decisions of every person on it and that was too fun to not consider further, haha. Basically the plan is just they get left alone together and don't know what to do with that and end up wine-drunk and making fun of some reality dating show of some kind and Miles and Trucy come back to them losing it together over something stupid and are like "......uh. what's happening." Fun Facts: I really love the thought experiment of Franziska somehow discovering how often Phoenix's internal dialogue/reads on situations and especially people can be So Bitchy And Judgey despite his affable complexion, and her unfortunately finding his opinions to SOMETIMES be somehow slightly okay. Moderately correct, even--occasionally. I know the section she follows you-as-Phoenix around in T&T is really not long at ALL, but I adore it. There's something about it that so badly makes me want to force them into proximity more (to both their chagrin, I'm sure).

7. Farm/Ranch - complete - 12k words ("Two Little Dickey Byrdes" link)

Gumshoe POV, gumbyrde (tho i still think dickeybyrde is a funnier ship name). 5+1 things--except more like maybe 7-or-8+1 to be honest--so it's more: over 5 times Dick and Maggey sit on a wall together and 1 time they find someone else there instead. AKA: Dick runs his family's small farm (think fantasy farm like in a farming sim or maybe horse girl novel type of thing that has nothing to do with what a real farm is like lol don't worry about it) and Maggey starts working at the next farm over as the latest of her many odd jobs. Fun Fact: oh god this one got so far away from me. it was not supposed to be this long lmao. it's literally the elaborate set-up to a very silly Nursery-Rhyme-I-Didn't-Even-Know-About-Prior-To-This -based punchline!?! still, i was pleasantly surprised by how happy i was with this once it was done... two sittings and about 16 total hours later. haha).

8. Nomad - incomplete (planned/outlined)

Apollo (or possibly Klavier) POV, klapollo. Sort of Jove-Thalassa swap adjacent, but basically: AU where Jove survives the Khura'in fire but loses his memories for [contrived convince sake reasons]. (And also possibly loses some or all of his eyesight just to really go for the parallels?) Therefore: Jove and Apollo stay with Dhurke and Nahyuta and the Defiant Dragons for a time, while Jove recovers, but eventually they leave and head out on their own, just the two of them, and do the traveling musician thing, both because it's dangerous in Khura'in and Dhurke already canonically didn't want Apollo to get caught up in it and potentially get hurt to begin with and because with a functioning actual parent Apollo doesn't need to be taken in by him--and also Jove from what little we know seems like he prefers to be on the move and was already a world traveler anyhow, so even amnesiac maybe he gets a little antsy stuck in one place too long. And so like amnesiac Thalassa, Jove thusly becoming a renowned mysterious musician--and then Apollo, sweet tone deaf Apollo, becoming the sonager of all time (like a momager but...you get it) because he's not that into music but he IS into arguing for better conditions/making deals (contracts!! international legalese!! woohoo!!) with venues and promoters and stuff. And then--oops dang Lamioir still exists and now they have a meet-cute (2 electric bugaloo) (but by then it's later enough Trucy still exists because it will be a cold day in hell when I don't find a way to make her work) and they do music collabs or join up to form a group or whatever and OOPS this means now that Apollo and Jove are with Lamioir when The Gavinners / Klavier specifically meet her and get her to come to do the Guitar's Serenade concert eventually. And Apollo and Klavier ofc thusly also have a meet-cute and then talk and bond etc etc. AND THEN the au STOPS THERE and I DON'T think about how without Apollo Phoenix is totally getting convicted of Zak's murder because there's no way that trial works out as well for him with some other attorney and I also don't think about how reasonable it would then be that maybe Trucy ends up helping Valant with his work setting up the trick for the concert afterward on account of the one father in prison and the other being dead and having left behind a notarized confession clearing Valant's name of suspicion, etc. AND I DEFINITELY do not think about how i could then still so easily get everyone in one place at the concert for Turnabout Serenade and/or any possible funny Sibling (And Thalassa) Reveal that could happen i dont i dont i do not--

9. Accidental Baby Acquisition - conceptualized (not started)

Gen, possibly my weakest / least defined idea on this list, but basically: Phoenix kind of already lives this in canon, lol (insomuch as an 8yo counts as a baby) so I thought, well, how to take it a different direction, then? And I thought, I don't usually go for a Phoenix Fey kind of au because I personally really love the relationships he has with all the Feys as-is in canon and so it's not quite as funny to me as, say, a Miles Fey AU where like Misty and Gregory are married, or any of the ones in that bent, because I'm sorry but that's just SO funny (and sad, but mostly funny) any way you slice it--plus his NAME is RIGHT THERE mia-miles-maya he FITS--anyhow, that completely aside, there are just a lot of reasons I really love the platonic relationships the Feys already have with Phoenix and I don't think it NEEDS to be made specifically familial to still be so very important, y'know? BUT. That said. AU where Phoenix is idk abandoned as a baby or maybe his parents die young or something and it's like a Thing to leave babies at temples or churches or whatever, right? So like--Phoenix adopted by the Feys AU but only because the more i considered it the more i thought it would be WILD for him to literally know Maya her entire life, and it's fascinating to me to consider a Maya who ISN'T basically left all alone to her own devices (and Morgan's) and who has someone absolutely in her corner in the village the entire time even after Mia leaves (who isn't a baby when Mia leaves, love you tho Pearls), AND also and perhaps more importantly, the ships-passing-in-the-night-ness of a scene where, like: Morgan does something sketchy or whatever and Phoenix wants to keep Mia updated but for whatever reason decides to go down to the city and actually tell her in person and so he's waiting outside the courthouse or something (possibly part of or perhaps Most Of the reason he goes in person is because he knows her first courtroom trial is that day and he wants to see her + hear how it went) and when he gets there she's in a heated argument with some asshole in a fancy over-embellished jacket and once that guy leaves Phoenix is like "Sheesh, what's his problem?" You know???? And maybe he really would never even know!!!! Bc he grew up in Kurain!!!! And has no reason to care!!! About some random prosecutor who was mean to Mia!! Aaaah!!! So that, and on top of that, Diego would be there too ofc at that point, and I feel like he would ALSO be quite a funny interaction in this scenario. ("Wow, someone's popular, kitten, you have all sorts of guys waiting on a chance to talk to you, heh?" "Uh.--I'm sorry, WHAT did you just call her")

10. Enemies-to-Allies - incomplete (currently 370 word WIP)

Ema POV, faraskye. Cyberpunk AU where Lana is still under Gant's thumb and Ema, with no other way to stay close to her and getting rejected from any of the sorts of jobs she really wants to do, decides to just join the security force (or cyber police or w/e I decide to call it) and is tasked with hunting down the Yatagarasu, guerilla hacker supreme who is threatening the sanctity of the capitalist overlords. Except Ema's squad gets ambushed and she's captured and tied to a pole, and with her useless fop partner seemingly not coming to rescue her (if he even noticed her absence), she does some quick cost-benefit analysis and decides she didn't really like that job anyway and maybe there's another way she can get her sister back in her life. So she breaks free of her own handcuffs (which she definitely didn't modify into incidental ineffectiveness she's still testing for bugs) and helps fix the "Little Thief" device her captor seems to have broken despite how obviously valuable and impressive the tech is, and they eventually come to something of an agreement. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em, and all that. Either Ema as the hardware-engineer one and Kay as the software-programming one as the two sides of the tech coin, or else Kay can just be like doing the physical sneaking kind of spy stuff only--or maybe she knows a little about software but not so much she's a pro the way she is with infiltration and such. Possibly toying with the idea Kay herself is just completely an android, but if not, I think she has some cybernetic cyborg things going on regardless. Possibly from or inspired by her father? I also like the idea that Gant did something maybe more drastic with regards to having dirt on Ema to get Lana to do his bidding--like maybe Ema has a whole cybernetic hand because instead of just her handprint on a leather jacket, Gant has some sicko jar with her entire hand in it in his office safe, or something. I don't know why this would be useful to him but it is certainly an image. I also find it funny if Miss Fingerprint Powder Enthusiast doesn't actually have any fingerprints of her own anymore somehow in this AU, lol.

11. Retail Worker - complete - 6.7k words ("The Bake Anything Boulangerie" link)

Apollo POV, gen. Phoenix gets a job at a bakery instead of the Borscht Bowl Club during the 7 year gap, and Apollo happens to stumble across it and ends up meeting the Wrights while he's still in high school. He becomes a regular at the bakery and is already close to them by the time "Shadi Smith's" murder comes around. And also, yes, sibling reveal right away--at least as soon as Phoenix realizes and can reveal it. As a treat. (Other reveals, though, I might put poor Apollo through on a delayed basis. Also as a treat, lmao, just not one for him.) Fun Fact: I'm being redundant bc this is also in my a/n, but, Baker Phoenix lives rent-free in my brain because Professor Layton vs Phoenix Wright was in fact the very first Ace Attorney game I ever played, technically, and Maya and Phoenix semi-brainwashed in that bakery was literally one of my first impressions of them. ........followed immediately by starting a let's play of Justice for All (which i watched through the first case, after which I was like oKAY fine maybe i DO need more context here, i should probably figure out what the actual first game is, and went back to start the series properly at the beginning hahaha). What do you MEAN i have a disproportionate fascination with amnesiac Phoenix, even if I have yet to finish and publish one of my myriad AUs that utilize stupid, unrealistic, plot convenient re-temporary amnesia?? Hm???? Idk what you're talking about. Also everyone who complains about 2-1 is wrong lmao it's objectively (okay subjectively is what i'm saying yes BUT objectively) such a funny place to start without knowing broad plot strokes, it's great. I both knew so much and absolutely shit-all nothing about Maya after PLvPW and 2-1, LMAO. god.

12. Animagus Wings (Joker) - incomplete (planned/outlined)

Miles POV, wrightworth. Angel/Demon AU, except I'm playing super fast and loose with the rules on that because all my knowledge of Christian-mythos comes from firstly and unknowingly the Chronicles of Narnia and more recently and cognizantly Lucifer (Netflix) and Good Omens. I know that's probably more or less what we're all doing with this kind of AU but still, I'm not even sure I want to refer to Heaven and Hell here, I'm kinda on the fence about maybe just keeping it all very vague? I also accidentally semi-worldbuilt more than i intended incidentally on account of "But Then How-Why Names If Angelic Creatures?" Format-wise it would semi-follow gomens s1 where it's hopping through some meetings between long stretches but also a kind of pre- and post- Fall type of thing? And potentially à la Lucifer becoming, like, these are My Mortal Humans and i will be Spending Time With Them, screw you celestial duties, I'm making my own Free Will, etc. And i mean i guess Lucifer is also a crime procedural lmao maybe they still solve crimes in the end too. Fun Fact: I didn't want to do the original prompt for several reasons, and sure fuck jkr is one of them but even before I knew about her I still wasn't really the biggest hp person in the first place? So i wouldn't know/don't remember at all the way it works without having to do the specific research and i...don't want to haha. Hence. And I know the prompt seems to be using it loosely / might just be borrowing the word and not actually referencing hp specifically but tbh either way human-animal shifter things just in general I can be somewhat picky about haha. (Okay okay plus full disclosure the ONLY idea I have for this sort of thing actually ties into my day-3-dark-academia-extended-au-verse and i COULD make my life simpler by just connecting the two days but Heh who would I be if I simplified things for myself... *sigh*) All that to say: I saw "wings" on the wild card list and I thought, ooh, well that's still sort of a related concept! Let's tag that one in! So it's still kind of day 12 prompt-adjacent, if you squint.

13. Found Footage - incomplete (planned/outlined)

Video Transcript POV? Is that a thing? Possibly capped by a little Phoenix POV (but i don't want that to get too long), wrightworth. Larry's new girlfriend of the month bakes weed brownies and Larry does not realize this and swings by the Wrights' apartment to beg some kind of help off Phoenix and forgets the whole tray there somehow (because it's Larry) and they leave to deal with Larry's thing and by the time they figure the brownies out, in some twist of fate Miles and Trucy have been hanging out (last minute babysitter/adult supervision? but she's at the very very least 14 or 15 here and most likely older, and Nick clearly isn't the most strict about like uhhh supervision in general lol sooo idk. he's helping her with a project or smth. it doesn't really actually matter; he's THERE, that's the important thing.) The point I'm very clearly getting at is they accidentally get incredibly high (not dangerously so because I'm not going that far haha but also, neither of them has actually been high before, so they are Affected) before Phoenix finds out what was in the brownies and tries to warn Trucy and hurry home to like, dispose of them or at least put a warning label on them or whatever, but he is too late lol. By a lot. Definitely an underage drugs tag on this bad boy because it's definitely sometime 18-or-earlier for Trucy, let alone 21. (idk about other places but as a Californian I can tell you Japanifornia "LA" could theoretically have it legalized at 21 for anyone (like alcohol) and 18 with Dr's permission--which Trucy definitely does not have in this AU lol.) Basically, Phoenix grabs Trucy's phone to get photo evidence so he can let them never live this down (after making sure they're okay lmao), but he ofc doesn't get technology so he doesn't realize he leaves the phone still recording when Trucy asks him for something / needs his help, so the recording just keeps going and captures a lot of tomfoolery and eventually some inebriated-to-Extremely-sober Feelings-Adjacent confessions (or maybe more like allusions). Idk, this was actually a fic I thought of before August and wanted to use as an excuse to try a Weird Format for fun, but then i saw this was a prompt on the list and...well. Fun Fact: Cannabis was legalized in California on November 8, 2016 (the first election I could vote in!!! ......uh, rip. lol. but yeah babey I helped legalize weed at least!! gotta remember the positives), which means it was legal right in time for Miles' case(s) / Turnabout Goodbyes!!! Yay!! I mean, I suppose that's genuinely seriously one way to try to mitigate nightmares and manage insomnia--not that I think Miles Edgeworth would ever deign stoop so low as to use an aid to manage his severe PTSD and trauma symptoms, psshaw, who do you take him for? (Get these people some help lol. They all need so much therapy.)

14. Princes & Princesses - conceptualized (not started)

So I've been reading a lot (a LOT) of isekai and/or revenge reincarnation romance fantasy manhwas lately (like, oh, too many, hahaha. they're quite good and they're VERY popular in webcomics at the moment.) Soooo. Soft pitch: Apollo already gets slapped into so many wild backstories he's constantly trying to dodge in an effort to be just a Normal Guy, he's honestly, like, the PERFECT protagonist for one of these lmao. And tell me Kristoph doesn't make a perfect "Upstanding Duke" kind of persona, and Klavier couldn't be the "wild rake" younger brother no one expects much from, and all I'm saying is it wouldn't be that hard to contrive a reason Apollo tries to get Klavier to agree to a contract marriage the way all these stories go, lol. And also, something something, Apollo from the "real world" is an orphan/has an absent family (also like so many of these manhwa protagonists, lol) but then he gets to actually have one in his second life!! I'm such a sucker for that shit. Slightly harder pitch, and the reason I did not let myself actually start writing anything (...yet): so what if the actual plot of the "original romance novel" Apollo is familiar with from the "real world (Earth)" is actually about the slightly older generation and something something instead of admiring Phoenix as a defense attorney, it's just that he instead was Apollo's favorite "love interest" character (not, like, for himself, just the one he most liked to read about) in every way except what a blithering idiot he became when the author had him fall for the female lead--but BEFORE that, he's a cool information guild leader guy who seems like he's trying to work toward some way to improve conditions for commoners in the kingdom (but abruptly there are no more mentions of this after he gets involved with the lead, which is annoying). Aaaand... I guess what I'm saying is, Dahlia is the original female lead because she REALLY fits the whole White Lotus trope, and I'm thinking Klavier is the original male lead because A) hilarious, B) fits in with the idea there's more going on in the ACTUAL world Apollo ends up in that is written in such a way as to make things seem different in the novel (like, that Dahlia and Klavier are actually as nice as they seem and that the terrible things that happen around them are just the trials and tribulations of being main characters and not anything they're directly involved in). And Apollo, the character in the novel Apollo, is an adopted prince of Khura'in, but he's the sickly younger prince and of course not actually of the royal bloodline (and also a man, considering Khura'in is matrilineal), so Rayfa and Nahyuta are the ones the public and other nobles actually know and care about and deal with. But wait! As it so turns out, The Wright Anything Information Guild (I feel like the actual guild name CAN'T have their freaking name on it front and center lol but you get the idea) happens to know some other things that aren't really expanded on in the original novel, and might be key to preventing Apollo's death so he doesn't follow the path of the original story, and also idk maybe Apollo and Trucy are half-fae or something like that and instead of like Aw Yay Bracelet in this AU it's more of a secret Iron Shackle Tool That Will Hurt I Mean Totally-Definitely-Help Us Later (still, in a way, passed down to him by Thalassa, but more as, like... she's kind of a secret hostage and does not manage to hide pregnancy number one so Apollo's now also a secret hostage, but she manages to escape so they don't know about Trucy, only she didn't tell Apollo basically anything to "keep him as safe as possible" or w/e, and......) Well, anyway. It got away from me before I even really wrote anything, that's all.

15. Secretly Alien - unfinished (currently 2.6k WIP)

Trucy POV, gen. Apollo gets sick of very consistently always losing the card games they play at the Wright Anything Agency (usually and in the specific instance the fic starts, Bullshit/BS) and in a stroke of inspiration somehow ropes everyone into playing Among Us instead. ("What! It's still a game of trying to lie/trick everyone else--like you like!--but I actually stand a freaking chance, so we're playing this or I'm going home.") Yes. This is my Among Us AU. Hi. They play Among Us. I'm justifying this one as prime AU territory however because A) Among Us has to exist in this universe, and even more pressingly, B) I found a way to force Phoenix to have--for at least a period of time if not moving forward in perpetuity--an actual smartphone instead of a Nokia-type brick cellphone. Which even under the wild but somehow plausible considering Ace Attorney circumstances I contrived, is just automatically a complete AU lmao. Fun Fact: I am so mad this one wasn't just totally finished day-of, lol. Why I ever thought I could give myself run of an entire WAA 4-person conversation and NOT get instantly derailed is beyond me. (And I want to get the prosecutors there, too?? Someone take the characters away from me.) Anyway. No, I have not written ANY of the actual Among Us part yet. Sigh. Also I haven't personally played amogus since like, 2021? maybe? And I know (now) that it's been pretty updated since then, but, ehhh, I'm just gonna run off like, lockdown-era amogus rules and vibes, lol. If I can get to the game part.

16 - Hobby Drama - conceptualized

I'm going to go out of order this time to say: Fun Fact: I have ALWAYS wanted to write a Reddit-style fic!!! I absolutely love them and I've read some REALLY, really good ones, so I've always wanted to try my hand at it. So theoretically this is the perfect time to make that a reality and write a r/HobbyDrama subreddit fic, buuut I got stuck before starting because I'm torn on two possible routes to take it (I can easily foresee myself caving and just doing both lol). - Option 1: Steel Samurai fandom discourse, always a fun/funny thing to think about, definitely would enjoy having Maya and Miles post some stuff for that. - Option 2: courtroom law fandom discourse, because come ON, how are those galleries ALWAYS SO FULL. The little wiggling rabba-rabba onlookers have GOT to have investment in this shit. And why WOULDN'T they, honestly. I've seen those trials and I have, in fact, spent a Lot of time thinking about them, not that any posts I've made lately would reflect that in any way or anything. Like I know it's hard to tell, but if I can be invested in the Lawyers Fandom, who's to say the people in the courtrooms aren't????? And I LOVE an outsider POV fic actually, I think they're so fun. So anyway. Reddit fic. You will be mine. Just as soon as I can hone my energy

And, what the hell, since it's so late now by the time I complete this "Heh This'll Be So Quick To Throw Together" post, I'll include today's, too:

17 - Flower Shop - conceptualized (at work earlier today. lol)

AU where Daddy Hawthorne is like, 97% less shitty. And the Hawthornes have a flower shop instead of like a gemstone industry or whatever. And he takes both Dahlia and Iris with him instead of dumping one of his daughters at a fucking secluded mountain temple and seemingly forgetting about her forever. On second thought, maybe what I actually mean is he's like 999% less shitty, lmfao. Anyway, Iris POV, but Dahlia (while not a "nice" person by any stretch) is not pushed to such extremes or nearly as desperate as canon, so Valerie lives, Terry Fawles lives, Doug Swallow lives, and Dahlia gets to live a good life overall--because as much fun as I love using her as a villain, she's really such a product of the absolute worst circumstances and I really do find her interesting so I've been kind of wanting to explore her in a less cartoonishly evil light, haha. (Don't get me wrong, I do love the cartoonishly evil light too, but I like spicing things up sometimes.) Like, she does (more) normal teen rebellion things ("Look at my inappropriately older boyfriend, Dad" "I'm going to talk my way out of speeding tickets and petty shoplifting as a bid for attention" etc.) and she still totally orders Iris around and Iris still totally does whatever she asks very much to her own detriment and has to learn to break away and be her own person. Fun Fact: I have a very passionate love for Iris/Adrian Andrews. Is that. Um. Is that a ship anyone else has ever considered before? Is that just me? I'm not sure but very possibly I'll just make this a rarepair fic as a treat, for me alone, teehee. (Like... it's about the becoming the master of your own destiny it's about breaking out of codependent cycles it's about how I genuinely honestly think they'd be each other's type and have chemistry even though they've obviously never interacted lmao... idk what to tell you.)

AND THATS MY AU-GUST UPDATE POST!!!

If you made it this far, take a sprinkle of my undying affection, and may you be blessed with AU inspiration if you so desire it!! (If you do not desire it, hopefully you are not cursed with it. I do not take refunds if you are. Sorry.)

Wish me luck with completing some more fics soon!!! Unfortunately weekends are actually my least free time because I work the most and the earliest hours so I have less time and am more tired, but also on Wednesday I'm leaving for a family vacation, which will either be the BEST thing to happen in regards to AU-gust or the WORST thing lmfao. If nothing else I have 2 flights, and I actually Love writing on an airplane, so fingers crossed for it being Good. <3

EDIT: Now with part 2 for the rest of the month here!

#au gust 2024 #au gust #ace attorney #ace attorney spoilers #OH this post is so long. i did not. mean for that to happen. but i had fun with it and now I've got all my ideas in one place! yay #i kind of feel bad about clogging the tags though so idk what even TO tag lol #wrightworth #narumitsu #lanamia #gumbyrde #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #mia fey #lana skye #larry butz #maya fey #dick gumshoe #maggey byrde #apollo justice #trucy wright #FUCK IT WE BALL im just tagging it all. i put enough time into this to justify clogging tags lol #i typed wrightworth so many times here despite liking narumitsu aesthetically more but in technicality im definitely #writing the localization characters and not naruhodou and mitsurugi.... so. meh. I'll survive lol #aaau-gust 2024 #welcome to my patt ttalk #patt's prattle #idk why i have so many ramble tags when i am so bad about using this blog haha #i feel like I'm forgetting smth but if i am I'll get back to it later #I'll be posting everything else to the same ao3 series!! if you want me to ramble forever more about any of these literally #i will do it at the drop of a hat this is my entire personality lately lol. minimally ask me and I'll write you an essay

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