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mercy-burning · 4 years ago

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Laundry Day

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader and Spencer meet again in the laundry room and decide to have some fun. PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 / EPILOGUE Category: Smut 18+ (oral sex- male and female receiving, unprotected penetrative sex, slight exhibitionism?/potential of getting caught, slight degradation) Warnings: sex, language. (As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in warnings. I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 3k

Note: Surprise!! I was going to wait to post this on Saturday but Taylor Swift had me feeling like dropping a surprise, what can I say? 😂 Anyway, I wasn’t going to make another part to Pretty Please, but for one thing, it did way better than I was expecting, so thank you all for your kind comments and tags! And also, @rainsong01 mentioned something that gave me an idea for a laundry room scenario, so you can thank them for this one! I had so much fun writing this and I hope you like it! Thanks for all the love! 🥰

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Y/N hated laundry day.

There was nothing more boring to her than loading clothes into the washer, waiting, then loading them into the dryer, waiting, and then folding them and putting them away, not to mention the laundry room was kind of dingy and felt like being in a gross, scary basement.

Thankfully though, years of living in the same building had given Y/N a pretty decent schedule of when the laundry room was empty. It wasn't like she disliked talking to people, but laundry made her cranky enough, and the last thing she wanted was human interaction, making small talk with building residents that acted like they cared to know about everyone else's business.

So it was Friday night, 7 pm, which meant that depending on if she had to work, the only other person in the laundry room would be Olivia from down the hall, someone Y/N had only had a few conversations with, either in the laundry room or on the way out the door.

She walked in, silently thanking the laundry gods after hearing complete and utter silence as she made her way to the washer and dryer to the far left of the room. Then she reached into her pocket and realized she forgot her phone. Cursing, she settled on basking in the silence as she loaded her clothes in the washer one by one, at least grateful that no one would be bothering her with pointless small talk.

Until she heard the door open, as if the laundry gods decided they were angry at her. She tried not to outwardly groan, hoping that whoever it was would just say, "Hello," and leave it at that. Or better yet, not say anything at all and let her do her own thing. So she closed the washer and entered the quarters, knowing that it would be a long ten minutes. She could have went back upstairs to her apartment and waited there if she really wanted to, or grabbed her phone at least, but it felt like it would have been pointless, and so she just hoped it wouldn't be awkward.

Maybe I'll just go walk around the building aimlessly for 10 minutes.

But the laundry gods had other plans, apparently.

"Y/N?"

She turned around and saw none other than Spencer Reid, clutching a large cloth bag, presumably filled with laundry.

"Spencer? Hi," Y/N greeted, a small blush forming on her cheeks. The two of them hadn't really talked since their... escapade about a month ago. Most of the time Spencer was at work, but whenever he was home there hadn't been anymore thin wall scenarios or overhearing something she shouldn't. They'd seen each other in the hallway a few times, winking as they passed, but that was it. Y/N had to wonder if maybe it was just a once-in-a-lifetime thing, being absolutely fucked into oblivion by your neighbor so good that you couldn't walk for two days.

Thinking about it made her cheeks burn hotter, so she cleared her throat and only slightly avoided eye contact. "I thought you did your laundry on Sundays?"

Spencer shrugged, walking over to the machine set next to hers. "Normally I would, but I just got back from work and I needed clean clothes. It's... pretty empty in here right now."

"Oh. Yeah, that's why I do my laundry on Friday nights whenever I can. Everyone's either out or staying in relaxing. Laundry's already boring enough, right, who needs annoying small talk?"

He laughed, opening the washer and putting in some of his clothes. "Touché."

Y/N wasn't really sure what to say after that, so she sat on top of the washer and crossed her legs, swinging them a little as she waited.

"Look, I know you've already given your stance on annoying small talk, but... What are your plans for the weekend?" Spencer asked, and she turned her head to meet his gaze, immediately feeling butterflies in her stomach.

"Um... Not a lot, really. Other than some grocery shopping and a few other small errands, I was going to have dinner with my mom on Sunday for her birthday. We might have to cancel though because she might have to go into work, but we'll see... What about you?"

He shook his head. "I don't have anything planned unless I get called into work either."

"Oh... Well, if you ever feel like having some company, you know where I live," she joked.

Spencer laughed. "I might just have to take you up on that. Things at work have been kind of... stressful."

Despite her better judgement, she smirked. "I seem to recall a similar conversation between the two of us not that long ago, Bud. You're not trying to fuck me again, are you?"

She just couldn't help herself. Admittedly she was a little worried she was too forward, but in the end it paid off, because he turned to look at her, shutting the washer and grabbing quarters from his pocket. "Would it be so wrong of me if I wanted to?"

The low tone of his voice made Y/N clench her legs tighter together, her mind racing with all the things that could happen in the next few days, the next few minutes even... She thought back to the last time he'd fucked her, seeing his face between her legs as he completely unraveled her. She felt herself growing wet at the thought.

"Absolutely not," she finally managed to respond. She hoped he would come over to her in a few long strides, pulling her in and kissing her right there, but instead he simply said, "Hmm," and turned back to his machine, putting in quarters.

He could have been playing games with her again, but she didn't want to take the chance. So she grew bolder and leaned back on her hands, puffing out her chest to the air and tilting her head to the side, letting her hair fall and exposing her neck to him. "Well, we have some time to spare, babe. What do you say we make the most of it?"

She was genuinely surprised to see him blush and freeze in his tracks, fumbling with the last few quarters as he inserted them into the machine and started the timer. "R-right now?"

"Duh," she replied, giggling.

"Somebody could come in... O-or hear us." A twinge of worry dripped from every syllable as he spoke, and though Y/N's first instinct was to apologize for suggesting it and letting it go, she thought better of it after remembering what got them into this situation in the first place.

So she scoffed. "Oh, please. You weren't the least bit worried about someone hearing us before. Y'know... When you promised to fuck me so hard I would scream your name and everyone could hear, and then I did? And besides, even if someone walked in right now, they'd probably just leave and come back later. People probably have sex with each other in here all the time."

"I doubt that, this place is filthy. Hardly the right setting for something so... intimate," he replied more clearly, obviously trying to win this argument. Though, something told Y/N he really was a little bothered about how dirty the laundry room was.

She shook her head. "You and I both know that what we did wasn't intimate. It was downright filthy, so if anything it works perfectly for where we are."

"Y/N, I don't know..." He chewed on his bottom lip and shuffled on his feet, refusing to look at her.

"Well, I'm not gonna force you to do anything you don't want to do, obviously, but... You can trust me. I've been doing my laundry here basically every Friday night since I moved here, and since Olivia is working tonight, she won't be here, and neither will anyone else."

"Well, I showed up, didn't I? Anything could happen."

She sighed, a little tired of arguing but still wanting to win. Her body tingled and practically ached at the sight of him, needing to feel his touch yet again. Maybe it was slightly pathetic, but if there was just the slightest chance that he would fuck her like that again, she had to try her damnedest.

So she had another trick up her sleeve, silently praying to the laundry gods that they would take pity on her and grant her this one thing. "You're right, but don't you think that you coming down here just moments after me was bound to happen? Like after everything we've experienced, we were always meant to have a quickie in the laundry room of our apartment building?"

He genuinely seemed to think about it for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. "Truthfully I think it's more of a coincidence than anything that we showed up here at the same time."

There's your chance, Y/N, don't fuck it up, she thought to herself, hoping that with the seductive tone in her voice and the puppy dog look in her eye, it would be enough to get her what she wanted. "I was joking. Of course it's a coincidence, I just want you to fuck me."

He only stayed silent, fiddling with his hands and his eyes flicking between her and the floor before he caught her eye. In another attempt to entice him, Y/N batted her eyes and slowly spread her legs wide, scooting back a little so she could rest her heels on the top of the washer. "Don't you want to fuck me into the washing machine, baby?"

That was the last straw, the thing that pushed Spencer over the edge. He whispered, "Fuck it," to himself before striding over to her and cradling her face in his hands, bringing her to him and kissing her hard. She initially yelped at how harsh he was, but after a second she melted into him, leaning forward and bringing him closer.

She tried to wrap her legs around his torso, but he grabbed them by the ankles and kept them spread open, pulling away to look into her eyes. "Keep 'em open, pretty girl." The old nickname made her whimper, just like he knew it would, and his gaze burned into hers hotly for a few seconds before he bent down, kissing her inner thigh just below the hem of her shorts. She sighed as he trailed his lips and tongue along every inch of skin, switching to the other leg and giving it the same attention until he was ready for more.

Rather than pulling off her shorts and underwear, Spencer simply pushed the fabrics aside and immediately licked a long, flat strip up her pussy, to which Y/N sharply inhaled and reached out, grabbing his hair. He explored her just as thoroughly as he had the last time, his fervor unmatched and absolutely intoxicating as he pushed himself closer and closer, practically living between her legs. Due to the short time constraint and fear of getting caught, he didn't waste time teasing her, and he seemed determined to finish before the buzzing of the washer signaled clean clothes.

Naturally though, he couldn't not tease her, so just as she was about to finish with his lips wrapped around her clit, he pulled away and left her breathless and frustrated.

"Really? We're doing this again?" she huffed, pouting.

Spencer unbuckled his belt and raised his eyebrow. "All in due time, sweetheart. Come here."

Unsurprisingly, she did what she was told, jumping off the washer and waiting further instructions. It didn't take long for Spencer to move, only a few seconds passing by before he turned her around and pushed her against the washer, to which she instinctively bent her torso over it. She gripped the sides of it tightly as he ran his hands up her shirt and caressed her back, eventually using one hand to grip her waist and the other to lift her leg up, setting it on the washer. She readjusted, reaching her hands forward to grip the top of it as he slid his hand down her leg and toyed with the fabric of her shorts.

"Listen carefully," he said, causing Y/N's heart to pound harder in her chest. "I'm clean. Are you?"

"Yes," she stated simply, loud and clear, though adding a hint of desperation as to hopefully speed the process along. She knew this communication was important, but damn if she didn't just want to be railed into next week already.

"Birth control?"

She swallowed nervously, hoping it wouldn't change his mind. "I'm not on it."

"Noted," is all he said, before deftly moving her shorts and underwear to the side and slamming into her with no warning. She yelped, leaning her head back as he pounded into her, the cold metal of the washing machine digging into her skin. It was the best kind of painful pleasure, only made better when he gripped her hair into a makeshift ponytail and yanked her to him, deepening his angle inside of her and hitting that sweet spot every time.

"Spencer, I'm..." She could barely breathe, and she loved it, already feeling herself start to unravel.

"Close already, pretty girl?" he purred in her ear, right before pressing a wet kiss to her neck as he craned her head to the side for better access. "Figures... You've always been so easy to please. Such a good, needy little slut for me, huh?"

Y/N groaned at the new name, and it spurred him forward, encouraging him to push them both further into the washing machine as he moved his hips harder. "Please," she gasped, only seconds away from losing herself.

"Tell me what you want," he growled in her ear.

She squeezed her eyes shut and spoke as clearly as she could, not caring how loud she was being. "I wanna cum! Please, Spencer, please!"

"Do it," he grunted, giving her a few more deep, purposeful thrusts to aid in her high. "I got you, pretty girl." That's what did it for her. She yelled out as her body tensed and her walls fluttered around him, everything absolutely burning and blinding until eventually she was spent.

Spencer held himself inside of her for a few seconds, bringing himself closer to the edge before he roughly pulled out and away, leaving Y/N empty and alone. She was tired as hell and completely fucked out, but still she wanted more than anything to help him, ever the needy little slut, as he'd so eloquently called her. So she turned around, peeling herself away from the washing machine and dropping to her knees in front of him, not waiting for him to say anything.

She promptly leaned forward and wrapped her mouth around his cock, wasting no time hollowing her cheeks and setting a fast pace sucking him off. It had somewhat taken him by surprise, but he welcomed it, gathering her hair away from her face and watching as she went to work, practically worshipping the ground he stood on. Eventually she pushed herself all the way forward, allowing him to hit the back of her throat. Instead of pulling back to breathe, she held herself there and gagged, looking up at him with tears in her eyes before removing herself, taking two deep breaths, and going right back to work.

"Look at you," he mused, his voice barely there but with enough volume that allowed Y/N to hear him. "You look so good, pathetic and choking on my cock. Such a good fucking girl, fuck—"

In no time he was gripping her hair tighter and his breathing started to falter. Y/N held herself still as he came in her mouth, most of it hitting the back of her throat and all of it coating her tongue. She moaned around him, blinking tears away and running her hands over his ass until he pulled away from her and let go of her hair.

Standing up, Y/N swallowed most of his cum but purposely let some of it spill out of her mouth and down her chin, to which she used her middle finger to scoop it up and slide it back into her mouth. She kept eye contact with him the whole time, watching as his tongue flicked over his bottom lip before he bit it softly.

Once she was done cleaning herself up, Y/N ran a hand through her hair and smiled. "See, that wasn't bad at all. No trouble."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure the only trouble is you. Eavesdropping, making me fuck you in a semi-public place, et cetera..." He laughed as he pulled his pants up and re-adjusted himself as though nothing had happened.

"Don't act like you don't like it," Y/N teased, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing a deep kiss to his lips. He laughed against them, pulling her closer by her waist and resting his hands there when she pulled away.

As if to signal the end of their... whatever they were going to call it, Y/N's washer buzzed and she turned around to attend to her laundry. As she transferred the clothes from the washer to the dryer, Spencer came up behind her and brushed the hair away from her neck.

"You know, I wasn't trying to be mean or anything when I... called you a slut. I would never want to be mean to you or anything, and I'm sorry if that made you uncomfortable."

Y/N almost laughed, amused again by how dominant he was during sex but then immediately a big 'ol softie once it was over. It was such a fun contrast, and truthfully, as much as she loved his dominant side, she wanted to see more of his softer one. So she turned around to meet him and caressed his cheek, smiling kindly. "I know you don't mean it to be mean. It was hot. And I appreciate you checking up on me, it's sweet. You're sweet."

Before he could say anything, his washer buzzed. So he settled on leaning forward, kissing her cheek, and walking away to do his laundry.

The two of them worked in silence for a while, just enjoying each other's company until they realized they both had to wait for the dryer. 20 minutes.

"Round two?" he asked her with a mischievous grin.

Y/N returned it and took a step towards him when the door opened, laundry gods be damned.

"Oh, hey guys!" Olivia from down the hall chirped as she walked in, striding to her own station.

At least they had the rest of the weekend.

#spencer reid smut #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid

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toomanyrobins2 · 4 years ago

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Those Four Words Pt. 1

Summary: an escalating fight between Jason and his girlfriend leads to a tense two weeks in Wayne Manor

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: language, mentions of sex and excessive drinking, mentions of character death

masterlist // next part

Jason Todd was in a terrible mood, having just got into an argument with Bruce. He decided to go up to his girlfriend’s studio to get away. She had been hard at work the past couple of days and he was getting needy. He came up behind her on the floor and pulled her into his lap. She tried to wiggle out of his arms. “Jay, I'm trying to do something right now.

He tried to snuggle closer to his girlfriend, “I deserve some of your time too.

“Deserve? You’re especially demanding today. What did you do?” Jason scoffed and pulled away. “What has crawled up your ass?”

“You did.”

She managed to escape and turned to look at her boyfriend, “I did? Huh, I think I would’ve remembered such a disgusting journey into your body.

“Dammit, Y/N! Enough with the sarcasm! You know what I’m saying.”

She sighed at Jason’s attitude, “I don’t understand what you’re doing right now, but you are starting a fight just for the sake of an argument. I’m sorry, but I can’t give you what you want right now.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” Jason was standing over his girlfriend, his whole body tense, “From any of you.”

“Why are you being like this? What happened?”

“What? You thought the minute we started dating all of our problems would magically disappear? Are you really that naive?”

Y/N put her brushes down and stood. She tried to walk closer, but he matched each step, moving away from her. “Jason, where the hell is this coming from? I thought we had got past this. Even you and Bruce are in a better place.”

“You think I'll ever forget you abandoned me. You all did!”

“Abandon you! What have you been smoking? We thought you died!”

“You replaced me!”

Now, Y/N was angry too and it was rare that anyone saw her this way. She was deadly calm, but the fire was roaring in her eyes, “I did not replace you.”

“That’s right, you were too busy whoring yourself around Gotham to even think about me.”

“That is not fair and you know it. I mourned you. We all mourned your arrogant ass. I never stopped missing you.”

“I saw the articles, Y/N! Don’t pretend you were mourning me. You were too busy whoring yourself around Gotham.”

Her mind went back to three years ago. Jason had died in an explosion set up by the Joker. She was sixteen and her best friend had died, and she hadn’t handled it well. What started as a way to get out of the house with friends, had led to this wild, secret life. Y/N had snuck out at night and used Bruce’s name to get into clubs. She drank anything she could get her hands on and had gone home with multiple men, trying to forget her pain. Once, Bruce had found out, her world had imploded. He sent her away and finally got her the help she should have received when her parents had passed. The only reason Y/N had moved back to the manor was that Jason had been found. She couldn’t believe that he was trying to use her moments of weakness against her, “How dare you throw that back on me. I was just trying to numb the pain. It wasn’t like I was celebrating the fact that you were gone.”

“Yeah, it really looked like you missed me.”

“God Dammit, Jay!” she stamped her foot, knowing it was childish, “If you would just listen to me!”

“Oh fuck off, Y/N! If I had known I was ever going to be stuck with you and your nagging, I wouldn’t have come back.”

“I wish you hadn’t!” The minute the words left Y/N’s mouth, she gasped and slapped her hands over her mouth. Jason’s emotionless mask slammed into place, and suddenly he was as blank as the day Bruce had found him. He turned to walk out and Y/N chased after him, “Jay, wait! I’m sorry!” He jumped onto his motorcycle and was out the door before she could stop him. She slammed her fist into the wall and cursed in frustration and pain. No one would see either of them for the rest of the day. Y/N stayed in her studio, wondering how they got to the point of shouting such hurtful things at each other.

The next day, they had both shown up for Friday night dinner, as was expected of them. Neither spoke, and the tension was too thick to be cut with a knife. Y/N had tried to pull him aside and apologize after dinner, but he had shot her with a cutting glare and stalked away. The other could tell that something had happened, but no one had the details. Tim wandered into the library after patrol that night, to find her in a chair tucked into the corner. “What are you doing here (Y/N/N)? Isn’t it a movie night with Todd?” He noted the tear tracks down her face but knew she hated showing weakness, so he said nothing about them.

“I wasn’t feeling up to it, so I canceled. I think I’ll head to bed now. Night, Timmy.” Y/N went to her room and cried herself to sleep, the guilt overwhelming her as she played the argument over in her head. If only she had just taken a break, maybe the whole situation could have been avoided. She woke up multiple times in the night, crying out Jason’s name after seeing him and the Joker over and over again. Finally, around 3 in the morning, she gave up on sleep and went to the kitchen to pour herself coffee. She decided to keep busy and started making breakfast for the family.

Alfred was the first to appear in the morning, as usual. Y/N tried to pretend that everything was normal, but nothing could be hidden from the family’s butler. He noted the dark circles under her eyes and the tremors in her hands from over-caffeination. The boys slowly started to emerge, and Alfred started to bring out all the food she had made. She made two plates out of habit and headed for the dining room. Y/N started to hand Jason his breakfast as she had every morning for a year, but suddenly she remembered and pulled her hand away. Jason didn’t even bother to look at her, and her heart clenched. She placed the plate on the table and walked back into the kitchen. “Sorry, Alfred, I’m not hungry. I think I’ll go paint.” She placed the plate she had made for herself on the counter and left.

Y/N’s studio had been a safe space since she had first moved into the manor. She had hidden away when she first arrived at Wayne Manor, unused to such an active family. Bruce had called workers to the manor and redid the room when she had told him she liked art. Now, after years of work, canvasses filled the room on all sides. Some paintings, others photos, she had accumulated in the three years. They hung on the walls and were laid across the floor. She flooded the room with Swan Lake, her sad music, and started to mix her colors. The music she played had become an easy way for the others to discern her moods since she hadn’t spoken to anyone except Fallon, Bruce’s wife, when she first came. Bruce and Dick had installed a speaker system in her studio to drown out the noise when she was overwhelmed, and everyone in the Manor could hear it if she turned it on loud enough. When the first notes hit their ears, all eyes in the dining room turned to Jason. He refused to look up and make eye contact, instead, he stared at the breakfast that had been abandoned on the table. Once everyone had averted their gaze, he pushed away from the table and disappeared.

This led to one of the most uncomfortable weeks in the Manor ever. Y/N barely left her studio and no one saw Jason for three days before he returned. When he did, he started to act as if nothing had happened. The music had eventually stopped playing altogether, so they had no idea what kind of mood she was in. Finally, Damian was the one to gather everyone else together, “Y/N/N has not come out of her studio in a week. Since Buckethead has just decided to pretend nothing has happened. We need to fix this.”

Bruce spoke up first, “Jason and Y/N are both adults. They are both being immature, and it will eventually work itself out.

“How can we fix this when we don’t even know what happened?” Tim looked up from his laptop, “I’ve been checking in on Y/N on the cameras. All she does is paint, and the most she’s slept in days is when she falls asleep accidentally. That never lasts long, and she cries. A lot.”

“Why did Fallon have to leave! We need to fix this, or the family vacation is going to be the worst!” Dick collapsed on the couch. Fallon had finally convinced Bruce that the family needed a vacation, but two weeks before they were supposed to leave, her sister had had a baby. She decided to go help her out and just meet them at the resort. They now had a week left, and it was not looking good. No one wanted to bother their mother since she very rarely took time for herself and was enjoying time with her family. They decided Alfred would be the one to try and convince Y/N to leave the studio at least and eat something.

He appeared in the doorway and watched silently as Y/N worked on a large canvas. He walked over and saw that it was a portrait of the family. “This is beautiful, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” her voice was hoarse from disuse.

“What is the plan for this one?” Alfred sat down next to her on the floor.

“Everyone hates photos, but Fallon wanted a family portrait for the sitting room. Since no one can sit still long enough I decided to paint one and give it to her for her birthday,” she slowly sucked in a breath, “Plus they only have the old one, and J--some people-- are missing from it.” Tears started to well up again in her eyes. Alfred wrapped an arm around Y/N and just sat with her for a moment.

“I’ve kicked the boys out of the kitchen. Do you think you could come down and eat something? For me?” She only nodded and they both stood. Y/N sat on a stool and silently ate the soup Alfred had laid out for her. She barely tasted anything, and she was starting to feel dizzy. Her vision started to blur, and the next thing she knew, she was waking up on the floor and had five heads floating above her.

“Hi, guys. Thought the floor looked lonely.” She tried to sit up but was cut off.

“That is it,” Bruce spoke firmly, “You are going to bed, and you are sleeping. I thought you were mature enough to deal with this but I see I was wrong.” He picked Y/N up and noticed she had lost weight. He carried her up the stairs and before he had reached her bedroom, she was already asleep again. Bruce turned to the boys. “At least one of you is staying in here with her and making sure she sleeps.”

Tim volunteered for the first shift and settled into her desk with his laptop. Y/N had barely been asleep an hour before she woke up from a nightmare of Jason dying. She shot up and shouted out his name, before bursting into tears. Tim -- being the awkward person he is -- was ill-prepared to deal with the crying Y/N. The only solution he could think of was to climb into bed with her and pull up a movie. She slowly fell asleep again and clung to Tim like a starfish. When Dick came to relieve Tim and saw that he was unable to leave, he climbed into bed with the duo. Anytime Y/N would start to become distressed, they would calm her down. Eventually, Damian and Titus joined the cuddle pile, the former somewhat reluctantly, grumbling about how he was only doing this for Y/N. Little did the Bat-Family know, Alfred had called Fallon and told her about the situation and she had rushed home.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd #batfam #batfam imagine #batfam x reader #tim drake imagine #dick grayson imagine #bruce wayne imagine #damian wayne imagine #batfamily #toomanyrobins #red hood #red hood imagine #red hood x reader

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tillthelandslide · 4 years ago

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Oh F*ck It

A/N: Hi everyone. I actually quite like this one, so I hope you all like it too. I appreciate any and all feedback. All of your support has been amazing, especially the wonderful people on my taglist, you guys know I love you all so much xx

Side Note: Part 7 of Jersey Love is on hold for the moment so I can finish writing and editing other stories and make my way through my requests. Hope thats okay. Love you all so much - L

Tag List: @harrysthiccthighss @thereisa8ella @magdelen69 @henrythickcavill @hc-geralt-23 @kissthatlifeaway @darkbooksarwin @august-w-princess @speakerforthedead0 @pixie1484 @constip8merm8 @tigerbroadwaybaby @agniavateira @summersong69 @aestheticallywinchester @stephartrave @al-wiisa @henrycavillfanpage @intenselikes @anat2507 @ellixthea @aguspalazzo @1ookatthestars00 @wintersoldierslut @michelehansel @cavill-sass @thecavillstache @xelizabethvalentinex @sesamepancakes @tumblnewby @thefangirlsblog @sugarmelonwater @madbaddic7ed @bakika @abundanceofsoph @noisymist

(if you would like to be added to my tag list, feel free to message me, if you are new to my blog then I post Henry Cavill fanfics and make Henry Cavill fake Instagram posts, my requests are open so feel free to request anything and I will try my best to make your vision come to life. Edit: requests are still open but there might be a delay as I am working my way through the current ones and all other stories I am writing)

Love. What a load of bullshit, you hated the idea of love. The idea that people could love someone despite how shitty they were pissed you off. Sure you knew people weren't perfect but come on, some people could just do better, be better. You felt genuinely awful when you found yourself thinking certain people didn't deserve to be loved. And you had begun to think that the thought in your mind meant you too didn’t deserve to be loved.

People often told you, "Y/n, you're too kind", "Y/N you're too good for him" and that too pissed you off. How could you be too good for one person and not good enough for someone else? That was the story of your life, the people you loved, didn't love you back, and the people that loved you, well... They fell under the formerly mentioned category of "not deserving love" and you suppose that fact was the reason you were yet to find someone. You were stuck up, only you thought it but it was still true. Someone who thinks there are people who don't deserve love, is stuck up, surely? Your friends and family would tell you that they agreed that some people don’t deserve love but it didn’t make you feel better, it made you hate the human race just a little more than you already did. You were kind, you knew that, only the people closest to you knew of these thoughts that you hated to have and the rest… they knew you as a lovely girl, a positive woman who worked hard and was strong. But that was the facade you presented.

You wish you were the type of person that believed everyone deserves love, but you weren't.

So here you were, sitting in your apartment drinking a beer all by yourself, waiting until your only true friend finished filming and came and listened to your moaning. Who is that friend you ask? The one, the only; Henry Cavill. How the fuck he was your friend you'll never know. He was about 7 years older than you but that didn't stop you from being best friends with him. He was a genuinely nice guy, the most humble person you knew (even in his position), he was kind and loving and you always told everyone he was the best thing that ever came into your life. He may be a recurring guest star in the filthiest of your dreams and fantasies but you'd never let him know that. You had the biggest crush on him but covered it up with witty and sarcastic humour, sure the two of you flirted but neither of you had the guts to progress your friendship, his fans knew you as his best friend and you thought it would stay that way until he inevitably found a girlfriend. Little did you know that Henry felt the same way about you, in fact he was very much in love with his best friend, people said that you were too young but when you were together age was never an issue, in fact it was something Henry forgot about most days, only really thinking about it when someone had to comment on it (usually an ignorant reporter or pap)

You heard your door open, the jingle of keys, a coat being thrown somewhere, the sound of footsteps leading away from you into your kitchen, you heard the fridge open, you heard a beer open, all before you saw his face.

"Make yourself at home why don't you" you said, as he came into your living room and plopped himself down next to you. You instantly found yourself smiling and breathing him in, his usual scent invading your senses, making your eyes flutter shut for a second or two.

"Always do" he said simply, wrapping an arm around you to hug you.

"Ew get off" you joked, as you hugged him back, taking a deep breath as your head found a comfortable place in his shoulder..

"How was work?" you sang, making him jokingly groan at your singing.

"Good" was all he said and it made you chuckle.

"Henry Cavill everyone" you said, talking to an imaginary audience.

"How are you?" he asked, taking a sip of his beer.

"Shitty as ever my friend" you said, clinking your bottle with him as his eyebrows lifted.

"Why are you so dressed up?" he said referring to your current attire, he took your appearance in, smirking to himself and trying his hardest (as ever) to keep his thoughts to himself. He always thought you looked amazing, the most beautiful person he had ever laid his eyes on but tonight, he thought you looked phenomenally gorgeous and unfairly hot.

You were wearing black skinny jeans and a black satin shirt which had been undone when your plans got cancelled, revealing lace lingerie underneath. You didn't care that it was revealing and you were infront of Henry, it just didn't matter to you, you were comfortable with each other and to be frank, he had seen much more of you before.

"I was supposed to have a date with Damien but he cancelled. Couldn’t be bothered to get changed" you said, making him groan and tilt his head back.

"That douchebag again? " he said, which made you laugh, he sounded too posh to say douchebag.

"What's wrong with him?" you asked, making him chuckle and drink his beer.

"Well for one, he's a dick, two he treats you like shit and 3 he's a dick" he said laughing.

"Yeah well he wants me so eh" you shrugged, downing your drink, knowing that wasn’t a valid reason to keep seeing him.

"Really? He cancelled on you" he said matter of factly.

"Ouch. Hurt my feelings why don't you. We get it I'm repulsive nobody wants me" you said, making him frown at you as your hand placed itself over your heart feigning heartbreak at his words.

"That's not what I meant and you know that's not true" he said, downing his drink too.

"What's the truth then?" you asked, turning to face him, your back sliding down the sofa slightly.

"You have terrible taste in men" he said, laughing which made you hit him "ouch" he said, rubbing his arm, his forehead creasing as his eyebrows furrowed at you.

"Sorry, did I hurt you big guy?" you joked, hitting him again, making him grab your wrist to stop you.

"Seriously Y/N stop" he said, making you chuckle and pull your hand away.

"God why is dating so hard? Honestly I'm just going to give up" you said, making Henry groan in agreement.

"I mean if Superman can't find someone then I've got no hope" you said, making him chuckle, his eyes following you as you stood up.

"Another one?" you asked, making him nod, you walked to your kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out two more glasses of beer, popping the lids off..

"I miss sex" you heard Henry say making you laugh.

"Me too" you said, coming back into the room, passing him another beer, you walked to your speaker turning them on and taking your phone out of your pocket, throwing it to Henry who caught it one handedly, this was a common occurrence for the both of you, you’d give Henry your phone and he would play whatever he wanted from your music library.

"You and Damien haven't?" he asked, glancing between your phone and you as you resumed your position next to him, your head resting against his shoulder, looking at your phone in his hands.

"No we have but it was shit, didn’t get me where I needed to go if you get what I mean" you said, laughing to yourself.

"Why keep seeing him then? He's a dickhead and he can't make you cum? What's the point?" he said, making you laugh, finally shuffling a playlist of yours.

"Oh if you're fans heard you now Cavill" you said laughing to yourself, the music filling the room.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, bringing the bottom up to his perfect lips, downing a considerable amount, making you smirk and do the same.

"Just that they think you're so perfect. King Cavill they call you. Here you are, speaking all improper, having a beer with your clearly delusional and repulsive best friend and talking about cum" you said making him laugh alongside you.

"Eh, don't think they'd mind" he said, turning to face you.

“That’s true, think you could practically do anything and they’d bow down” you laughed, in your mind you understood perfectly why they acted the way they did and you truly loved every single person who loved Henry because they represented everything you were, everything they saw and thought about Henry, you thought, but considerable more because you knew him, all of him, not just the person he presented himself as.

"And stop calling yourself repulsive, you're not repulsive, far from it actually" he said.

"Calm down Cavill. Carry on being so sweet and I might think you’re in love with me" you joked, shoving his chest lightly.

"Yeah because that's not possible" he mumbled, you not hearing what he said.

"Huh?"

"Nothing"

"You look exhausted" you said, looking over his features, he had bags under his eyes and the skin around his face was drooping, you still thought he looked handsome but still, he needed to rest more.

"Thanks" he chuckled deeply, closing his eyes and leaning his head against your sofa.

"You work too hard" you scolded him, your hand moving to play with his curls the way you knew he liked. It calmed him and even though this was a fairly romantic thing people did, you did it anyway. Your friendship was weird like that, you could go from acting like best friends to acting like a couple (without the sex, much to your dismay). His eyes closed and his head tilted upwards as you did, a small smile resting on his lips, before they blinked open a few times.

"I enjoy my work" he said, humming at the feel of your gentle fingers in his hair. You could tell he was getting sleepy as his features softened and he no longer joked with you, the beer now long forgotten in his hand. You took the beer from his hand, placing it on the table, stopping your movements in his hair. Moving a pillow into your lap and saying his name, making his eyes open.

"I know you do, but you need to rest more, now lie down." you said firmly, gesturing for him to place his head on the pillow, to which he followed your instructions. Your hand resumed its movement in his hair, pushing the curls out of his face, running through the strands and occasionally stopping to massage his head.

"Maybe you need an older man, one who knows to treat you right” Henry said suggestively, wow he really is tired you thought.

“Treat me right? Are you talking about in or outside the bedroom?” you laughed.

“Both” he snickered.

"Going to set me up with one of your hot friends?" you said, trying to see if he was indeed talking about himself.

"I was talking about me." he said. Ah. So he was.

"Jheez you must be so exhausted" you said, trying your best to change the subject.

"I'm being serious" he said, his eyes still shut, groaning slightly as you weren't paying attention and accidentally tugged his hair.

"I'm too fucked up for you Henry. Besides you could have anyone you wanted" you said, hoping to some higher power that the topic please be changed.

"You're not fucked up, just a little messy, a little mess never hurt anyone" he said.

"You could have anyone you wanted" you repeated.

"Don't want anyone else" he said, suddenly sitting up from your lap and turning to face you.

"That beer must have gone straight to your head Henry. You don't know what you're saying"

"Don't be like that. I'm an adult, I can handle one fucking beer" he said, his tone turning you on a little. The song switched to Sail by AWOLNATION and the bass was loud, adding to the tension between you.

"Cmon Yn don't tell me you haven't thought about this" he said gesturing between you.

"I haven't" you lied.

"That's a lie. I see the way you look at me when you think I'm not looking" he said.

"Don't get me started" you warned.

"What's that supposed to mean?

"Oh c'mon Henry! You're always so protective when I tell you about guys I'm seeing, and you can't say that's just you being my best friend!" you shouted standing up from the sofa, walking to the other side of the room, turning down the music just a little.

"Yeah well, I know you have dirty dreams about me!" he shouted back making you gasp "I heard you one night when you stayed at mine, you moaned my name in your sleep"

"Yeah well, I always see you looking down my top at my tits" you said, making him look down at your boobs.

"Henry!" you shouted, your arms crossing over your chest protectively for about a second before you dropped them, not really caring if he looked.

"What! They're nice tits" he said make, a smirk on his face that you wished wasn’t there

"Well you have a nice face" you shouted back, you had no idea why the both of you were shouting at each other.

"So do you!" he shouted back.

"Yeah. Well you have rock hard abs like a fucking god? Like seriously what the hell dude?" you asked.

"Well you're fucking beautiful" he quipped back.

"Well, you have perfectly rideable thighs and sometimes when we cuddle I feel you against my arse… and c’mon how are you so big?" you said, glancing down to his thighs, flicking to his jean clad bulge, your mouth literally falling open as you did, making him chuckle at you. He hardened in his jeans as he heard you calling him big.

"It's nice arse. You have a nice arse" he said. It seemed like this was becoming a competition of who could complement the other more, you still had no idea why you were both shouting, probably to relieve the tension that was pent up inside the both of you.

"So do you! And you have really nice eyes, with the little bit of brown in the left one” you said, making him realise how much attention you paid to him.

“Not many people realise that about my eyes” he said, his mouth agape as he paused his shouting, the both of you trying to catch your breath.

“That’s because I like you.” you said, not shouting anymore.

“I like you more.” he said, still making it a competition.

"Well maybe we should just be together then if we like each other so much" you said.

"Maybe we should!" he shouted, the both of you realising that you had been moving closer to one another with every passing comment you had made, the both of you now standing chest to chest, the both of them raising and falling against each other. His eyes flicked down to your lips, to your eyes, to your breasts, back up to your lips before finally resting back on your eyes, the usual blue shade completely taken up by his pupils.

"Oh fuck it" you said , jumping into his arms, your legs wrapping round his waist, he caught you perfectly as you kissed each other. He carried the both of you back to your sofa, his lips moving perfectly against yours, as he placed the both of you on the sofa, you resting in his lap, your centres being instantly pushed together.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long.” he said, breaking the kiss to tell you.

“Shut up and kiss me then” you said, his lips smudging against yours, the both of you moaning into the other, tongues finally fighting against each other, the feeling foreign but perfectly euphoric.

You shifted yourself against him, feeling him large and hard against your core. He pushed your open shirt over your shoulders, it fell to your forearms, you pulled your arms out of the sleeves, flicking the shirt in a different direction. Henry’s lips paused against yours to kiss at the exposed skin at your neck, moving down to your chest. You pushed your chest against his lips as he sucked at your bosom making you gasp and rut yourself against his bulge.

“I need you” you sighed out, his head snapping backwards to look at you, his hand coming to gently grasp your face, his thumb caressing the apple of your cheek which was now flushed and warm.

“I’ve wanted this for so long” he smiled at you, he lifted the both of you up, placing sweet kisses against your lips as he carried you to your bedroom, placing you softly against your bed, your head falling softly into your pillows. He paused above you, slipping his shirt over his head, before looking over you, his features soft as he did, a sweet smile on his face as his cheeks flushed.

“You’re beautiful” he said, making you smile up at him. You reached out for him, gesturing to him, he simply shook his head, needing a moment more to take you in.

“Please Henry. Come here” you said cutely, he finally obeyed your wish, resting over you, his core flush against yours as he rested his arm by your head, his fingers drifting over your face, before he placed tender kisses against your lips. His tongue sensually making its way back into your mouth, pleasure erupting between you as he pushed his hips against you, causing you to gasp, your lips opening against his. His grunt was resounding and stirred something deep inside you that wanted to hear the noise over and over until it was the only one you knew.

“Henry” you sighed as his fingers grasped the button of your jeans, popping them open easily, his fingers slipping down until they were pressed against your core over your underwear, a moan slipping from your lips, into his mouth as his tongue fondled yours. Your hands finally reached out, resting over his muscular shoulders, the muscles contracting against your soft touch. You moved them gently down his chest, moving your lips there too, pressing an open mouth kiss against his hairy chest as his fingers continued to move against your core. Your back arched and your eyes fluttered shut. You continued the movement of your hands southward, pausing over his abs to get a feel before landing on the button of his jeans, popping them open easily and beginning to push the material down past his thighs, over his plump bottom before he got up to remove them fully, giving you the chance to do the same to yours.

You were left in your black lacy one piece, you popped the buttons at your core, revealing your wetness to him making him groan loudly as he moved back over you. You took in his black boxers, seeing a clear and large bulge straining against the material. Your eyes flicked up to his and he took you in again, smiling to himself that this was finally happening.

“Kiss me” you said simply, his lips pressing against yours again. Your hands found the hem of his boxers, pushing them down, your hand finding his large shaft, grasping it lightly, your feather-like touch had him panting into your mouth, his eyes bursting open and his lips pulling away from yours as he snapped his head down, seeing your small hand wrapped around him. He had never seen something more simple yet the sight was nothing but erotic in his mind and he had to refrain from fucking himself into your hand. You began to move your hand up and down his shaft, spreading the precum that had formed at his tip to fully cover all of him. He rested his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut again as he moaned deeply.

“Baby I’m not going to last, need to be inside you” he said, speaking the truth. The pet name had your mind spinning and your stomach and core fluttering.

“Yes please” you begged sweetly making him chuckle.

“You sure you want this?” he said, grasping himself and placing himself against your core, tapping his tip against your clit making you sigh lewdly, precum spilling from his tip onto your clit at the sound.

“I’m sure” you confirmed, making him push into you gently, the both of you gasping, foreheads resting against each other, eyes looking into the others, making the whole ordeal more intimate.

His head arched upwards as he bottomed out, a loud groan falling from his lips.

“You okay?” he asked, his fingers caressing your cheek, moving to your bottom lip.

“Give me a second” you said, the stretch was nothing you had experienced before and you needed a second to compose yourself. His lips found yours and moved against yours slowly, drawing a moan out as his fingers found your clit.

“You can move”

“You sure?” he said, making you nod. He pulled back slowly and you moaned loudly, feeling every ridge and vein against your walls. He pulled out until just the tip was inside you, slowly pushing back in, making the both of you moan out loudly.

“Fuck” he said, repeating the action a few times, his thrusts were deep, sensual and slow, you could feel every part of him and it had you seeing stars already.

“Henry” you moaned, you had never felt anything like this, you were no virgin but no man had ever made you feel this good before. He pushed back in, his hips hitting against yours as he sped up his thrusts slightly, his member reached untouched places inside you and found your g-spot straight away, your back arched, hands flying out to grasp his shoulders for support.

“Henry” you repeated, his eyes opening to look in yours, worry written across his face “faster” you said, making him chuckle.

“We’ve got all the time in the world for that my love. Need to feel all of you. This way” he said, his words reinforced with a particularly slow and deep thrust making you gasp out.

He felt like he was being winded but it was perfect, every thrust was deeper causing pleasure to shoot inside of him, making deep and loud grunts fall from his lips which were moving against yours.

“Y/n” he moaned, as he made a particular hard thrust of his hips, his member pushing inside you harshly making the both of you swear at the feeling.

“Oh fuck” you moaned, his fingers moving against your pearl with every thrust he made. You began pushing your own hips up, meeting him halfway, creating a new feeling of pleasure.

“Look at you, absolutely glowing. Taking me in so perfectly” he said, looking down to where you were intertwined, officially moving as one being.

“You’re so deep Henry” you said, your lips fluttering over his neck, sucking against a vein which had appeared there.

“No one’s ever been this deep before have they?” he said, his hips still delivering slow and deep thrusts inside you, elongating the pleasure you both felt.

“Only you” you said and Henry knew you couldn’t have said anything more perfect and complementary.

“Oh I love you” he said, surprising you with his words, you looked at him, the both of you smiling and moaning against each other. Tears formed in your eyes, your hands grasping his face gently, kissing his lips.

“I love you too Henry. So much” you said, making his hips move faster against you, his dick still reaching deep inside you, pushing deliciously against your g-spot, pulling high pitched moans from your chest, your back arching and your hips rising off the bed.

Henry’s hands landed on your lace clad waist, leaning backwards on the bed, carrying you with him so you were on top, causing his member to fall some from your core.

Your hand steadied him against your core as you lowered yourself against him until the hilt, the hair at the base of him tickling against you as your legs draped over his thighs. You began raising yourself up before dropping yourself down, his cock somehow reaching deeper inside you, his hand supporting your movements but grasping your waist, helping raise and lower you against him. He leant back against the bed, his mouth agape as looked over you.

“Fuck Henry. Can you feel you, here” you said, grasping his hand and pushing his hand against your stomach making him moan.

“I. Love. You. So. Fucking. Much” he said, delivering particularly hard thrusts upwards into you in between every word.

“Fuck. So close” you said, lips bruising themselves against his again.

“Never felt this way before” he said, his words making you moan again. They had you seeing nothing but white as your walls fluttered against him, a near pornographic noise falling from your lips as you reached your high.

“There’s my good girl, that's it” he said, encouraging you as you came around him.

“Cum for me Henry. I need it, need to feel it inside me” you said, making his hips stutter as he came suddenly at your words, his eyes flickering in their sockets as he came. His load shooting upwards into you, coating your walls with him. Yours and his juices slipping out of you and onto his cock.

“Oh fuck” he grunted, his chest heaving as he breathed heavily, yours doing the same as you collapsed against him as he fell back, his back hitting your bed, his hands grasping your comforter. You felt him softening inside you, your walls still pulsing around him as you rested your head against his sweaty chest.

“That was fucking amazing” he swore.

“You’re the best” you said, making him growl and flip the both of you, his length falling from your warm and wet cunt, he was coated in a mixture of the both of you making you smile.

“Why didn’t we do that sooner?” he said, now lying on top of you, his arms supporting his weight.

“Because we’re idiots” you said, both of you laughing breathlessly.

“Be my girlfriend please?” he said, pushing hair out of your eyes as you smiled up at him.

“It would be my pleasure” you said, kissing him slowly, he let out a deep exhale from his nostrils.

“You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me and I want to tell everyone that you’re my girl. Will you let me tell everyone you’re my girl?” he said making your heart burst with joy.

“You better, everyone’s got to know you’re my man” you said, laughing up at him.

“I’m your man” he said, repeating the words more to himself than to you.

“You’re my man” you confirmed, making the both of you smile, you giggling as his lips began to attack your neck again.

#henry #henry cavill #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill and kal #henry cavill angst #henry cavill imagines #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fics #august walker #august walker smut #napoleon solo #charles brandon #geralt #man of steel

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dreamy625 · 2 years ago

Text

This rockstar life - 3.10 Fragmented

Words: 2020

Content: Quite angsty, mentions of self-harm & OCD

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

We made an agreement, early on, that it’s always okay to wake the other one if you have a nightmare or any other kind of middle-of-the-night freak out. Always. No matter what. I just could not bear the thought of him lying there alone and uncomforted after one of his horrible dreams. But I’m a terrible hypocrite because, when my anxiety runs wild at 3am, I try not to disturb him if he is, for once, sleeping peacefully. However still and silent I think I am though, somehow he always knows and I’ll hear a mumbled ‘c’mere’ as he pulls me to lie with my head on his chest and strokes my hair.

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

“Oh god. Third alarm. We really have to get up now.”

Steve, still resisting fully waking up, just grunts in response. Alice pokes him, which only results in an aggrieved squeak and him pulling the duvet over his head.

“Your car’s coming in 45 minutes.”

“Cancel it.” he growls.

“I’m supposed to be at work in an hour.”

“Call in sick.”

“I can’t. Not again. I’m running out of convincing ailments.”

“Tell them I’m sick and you have to look after me.”

“But you’re not sick.”

“Might be. I feel fucking horrible.”

Alice burrows down until she is face-to-face with her boyfriend. In the dim light filtering through the covers, she takes in the pale clammy skin and bloodshot eyes.

“You don’t look great. Poor baby.” She wraps her arm around him.

“My head hurts.”

“Mine too. Why do we do this to ourselves?”

“Coping mechanism? So they tell me.”

Alice tightens her embrace. After a few moments of silence she says dreamily, “Sometimes I pretend our bed is just floating in the clouds. Just you and me, and the rest of the world has gone away. Nobody can get at us.”

Steve closes his eyes again. “Can we just stay here today?”

“Okay.”

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

Sometimes he gets 'stuck'. He always has to do all the things the right number of times in the right order, but when his mind is really running away with him, he then doesn't believe he's done it correctly, and has to repeat it again and again. Everything has to be three times, but if he misses something, it has to be three times three. And then maybe three times more. And then again. Sometimes it helps if I count it through with him, and act as witness that he has in fact performed the ritual perfectly. He doesn’t trust himself, but he’ll believe me. I'm not sure how you're 'meant' to deal with someone who has these compulsions, probably not like that, but it does at least allow him to leave the bathroom. On bad days though, that’s not enough. One night I stood, arms wrapped around him from behind, as he went through the sink sequence over and over for an hour or more, tears of frustration running down his face but completely unable to break out of the loop.

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

“I hate everyone.”

“Everyone?”

“Everyone that isn’t you. All of humanity except pretty blond guitarists named Steve.”

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

“No, I don’t understand what it’s like to be a rockstar. And to have that pressure and that weight on your… to have so many people looking at you and expecting… I can’t ever feel that. But you can tell me and I can try. And I do know what it’s like to never feel good enough, to always be the fuckup, to be pretending so hard you don’t know who you are any more and to… yeah…” she sighs, “never be able to explain why.”

Steve just grimaces and pours another slug of vodka into his glass.

“In fact, I think I’d find it stranger if you were totally well-adjusted about it. You were nineteen, working in a factory, and suddenly, boom, you’re on a stage in front of thousands of people. How could you have a brain that’s set up for that?”

“Everyone else seems to be fine with it. Joe’s happy as a pig in shit!”

“Yeah, but Joe’s… simpler than you. I don’t mean stupid. He just… doesn’t have your sensitivity. And, like, total tunnel vision. He just knows what he wants and goes for it full steam ahead, with the rest of you pulled along behind. He’s not introspective like you, he doesn’t stop to think about everything.”

Steve doesn’t reply, just staring at his glass and turning it around and around on the tabletop.

“Must be nice. To have self confidence like that. He must have some self-doubt, surely? But it doesn’t seem to stop him.”

“I wish I knew how he does it. How anybody does it.”

Alice shrugs. “If I knew I would tell you.”

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

Steve, idly threading his fingers in and out of Alice’s while they sit reading, squished into the one armchair nearest the fireplace, suddenly stops. “What’s this?”

He pulls her arm into the light from the window, revealing the row of faint pale scars up her forearm, and a few redder, angry-looking, marks.

Alice tries to pull the sleeve of her sweater down, but he won’t let go of her hand. “You know what they are. They’ve always been there.”

“I know, but…”

“The second time we… you kissed them… like Shirley Valentine.”

“But some of them look recent?”

“Yeah. But just little ones. Scratches. It barely counts.” She leans her head on his shoulder. “It’s okay. Really. Just… you know… turns out love doesn’t fix everything else.”

“No. They should put a warning on those soppy films.” He strokes her wrist gently with his thumb. “I wish you wouldn’t.”

“I wish I wouldn’t too.”

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

“It’s too early to argue.”

“This is still the argument from last night. You just passed out before it was finished.”

Steve pulls the pillow over his face. “You’re right. Whatever it was about. You win. Just for god’s sake woman, let me sleep.”

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

The unfamiliar sound of tinkly new age music draws Steve to the livingroom, where he finds Alice sitting cross-legged on the floor. Ah, a meditation session, the latest prescription from Dr Garrison. The effort of trying to calm her thoughts has creased her brow with a tiny frown. He tiptoes silently across the room and squats down beside her. The corner of her mouth turns up as she senses him there, but she keeps her eyes closed. Reaching his hand up to the back of her head, he places a gentle kiss on her forehead before standing and creeping away.

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

“Why is she here again?”

“Dunno. He just said he couldn’t leave her at home.”

“No girls in the studio; we made that rule for a reason.”

Phil shrugged. “They were already here when I got in, I wasn’t going to argue.”

Joe considers the couple over the rim of his cup. Alice is tucked under her boyfriend’s arm, all big bushbaby eyes staring into space. “She doesn’t look well.”

“Neither does Steve come to that.”

“He always looks like that on a Monday morning.”

Oblivious to being the topic of his bandmates’ muttered debate, Steve breaks off from scribbling on the sheet music in front of him and absently drops a kiss on the top of Alice’s head.

Joe sighs, “Oh all right. At least she’s quiet I suppose.”

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

Steve slopes into the livingroom and drops down on the far end of the sofa with his arms folded.

“I still think I was right.”

There is silence while they both stare unseeing at the television.

“Do you still love me?” This sounds like a challenge.

“Yes. Of course.” she retorts crossly, still scowling at Newsnight.

“Good. I love you too.”

“Fine.”

Another pause where neither one looks at the other.

“Bedtime?”

“Yup.”

Alice stands and holds out her hand.

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

“You need to eat something that’s not coffee”

“You need to eat something that’s not vodka”

- Impasse -

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

“Lissy?...Liiiiiis?”

A small voice, “Down here.”

Steve squats down and looks under the table. “Um, what are you doing under there?”

“Hiding.”

“Right. What from?”

“Everything.”

“Okay.”

“I don't think I was meant to be a human. I’m bad at… humaning.”

“What were you meant to be?”

She thinks for a while, “An aubergine?”

“Oh.”

Steve ducks further under the table and pats Alice’s shoulder tentatively. “It's okay, I'll look after you.” He pauses, eyes flicking from side to side, trying to think of something helpful, “I'll put you in a moussaka!”

“But I'm dairy intolerant.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

Alice starts to laugh, and Steve does too. The laughter borders on hysterical and they lean into each other, shaking. Eventually, it subsides into just the occasional giggle. Steve puts his arm around Alice and pulls her against his shoulder. “Fucksake.”

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

I’ve looked everywhere. All the usual places, all the pubs, even the ones he’s barred from, the pool hall, the cinema, that dodgy after-hours place behind the tube station. I’ve called Phil, I’ve called Malvin, I’ve called all the numbers scribbled on the pad next to the phone. I even asked that dealer he thinks I don’t know about. No one’s seen him, no one’s heard from him. That’s over twenty-four hours. He never does this. He always makes it home eventually, or someone brings him back, or someone calls me. There’s no Steve Clark on record at the hospital, and the police weren’t interested (they know him too well, said he’ll turn up when he sobers up). I’ve walked around and around and around. He should be easy to spot, all that blond hair, but it’s got dark again. And cold. Really cold. He just had his leather jacket when he went out, not a proper coat.

Finally, thank gods, finally, a glimpse of that familiar hair. A hunched figure on a bench on the embankment, staring into the water. He doesn’t look up when I sit down beside him.

“Hi.”

He blinks. “Hi.”

“Nice view.”

It actually is - there’s an old bridge and it’s lit up all prettily at night. Steve tilts his head up to look at it for a few moments before returning his focus to the river.

“So, where have you been?” I try to make this neutral and not show how frantically worried I was.

“I had to… get away… I couldn’t… explain.” His voice is croaky; I guess he hasn’t used it for a whole day.

“Right. Did it help?”

He puffs out a breath through his nose. “No, not really.”

“What was… what were you trying to get away from?”

A long pause, and then, “I’m scared… of what’s in my head.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

Another pause. “I can’t.”

“Do you want to go home?”

He shakes his head.

“Do you want me to go?”

Another shake.

“Okay. We’ll… just sit here then?”

He nods.

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

There’s just nothing I can do. He’s surrounded by people who love him and have tried to help. If there was anything another person could do, they’d, we’d, have done it by now. I’ve thought and I’ve thought and the only thing, the ONLY thing, I can possibly do that maybe no one else can, is try and make him feel safe.

Because he doesn’t believe in love, not really, not other people’s love. Or maybe believe is the wrong word; He doesn’t trust it. He wants to. He loves so intensely, so steadfastly, not just romantically but his family and friends. But he doesn’t think he’s lovable in return. So when he, inevitably, because he’s human, messes up, and he sees disappointment, anger, or pity, he thinks that’s it, they don’t love him anymore.

So yeah, that’s the plan. Unconditional love. Not just feeling it, but showing it. So he knows, however far he falls, he’ll always have a safety rope with me holding onto the other end of it. The flaw in the plan is that, well, I don’t think I’ve ever had that before either; I don’t know what it looks like.

But it turns out it’s easy. I just have to mirror back the way he loves me.

(January 1991)

#steve clark #steve clark fanfic #steve clark fanfiction #def leppard fanfic #def leppard fanfiction #this rockstar life fic

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staywritten · 5 years ago

Text

Roommates│Han Jisung (M)

Synopsis: Jisung is a selfish, rude and loud roommate but he’s also really cute and you can’t help but develop a crush or ignore the unspeakable tension. Roommate!Au

Genre: A tiny bit of angst, Smut

Word Count: 3k

When you responded to an ad for a roommate online, you figured the worst thing that could happen to you was that you’d be killed by some stranger in your sleep. Especially because the ad was far too good to be true. The apartment was beautiful, an in-unit washing machine, walking distance to campus, and work, and its rent was a steal. Especially in Seoul. Unfortunately your roommate wasn’t some creepy serial killer who dwelled in a basement and rarely interacted with you. No, he was a young attractive inconsiderate asshole testing your patience.

Admittedly you were a bit flustered with you first met him. His gummy smile was your weakness, his cheeks so squishy it took everything in you not to poke them, and when he worked out around the apartment, wearing that cut off tank you loved so much, you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together to relieve the pressure.

And as smitten as you were with his appearance you wanted to fight him about 80% of the time.

From how he always took too long in the shower on days he knew you had class, how he always ate your food. Knowing damn well he wasn’t the one who bought it. How his dates would always use your shampoo the morning after, how his stupidly attractive friends were always over without warning. And the worst offense of them all. His damn music.

It was the middle of the night, you had stupidly agreed to cover your coworkers 8am shift on what was normally your day off and Jisung had his friends over. Again. You knew what you were getting yourself into when you agreed to live with a music major. But not just a music major, a music major that was an underground rapper, with lots of friends who frequented your apartment.

Especially in the middle of the night after a show.

You tried to keep your outburst to a minimum. Sharing a space was about compromise. And you tried your damnedest to compromise. You bought noise-canceling headphones, you stuffed a towel under the bottom of your door to try and buffer the music, you tried having an asmr video of thunderstorms playing. You even attempted banging on the wall to get his attention to lower the volume. Anything and everything to drown him out. But by 3am, you could not only hear the beats booming against the shared wall but the laughter of his friends.

“Oh my god. I can’t” you groaned, throwing the blanket off and storming over the whole five feet it took to get to his door. “Yah! Han Jisung!” you knocked on his door vigorously, to ensure he heard you. You knocking not letting up until he opened up.

He swung open the door, a scowl on his face at the interruption.

Originally you were planning on politely asking him to turn down the music. And that cordial thought went straight out the window the moment you saw him. It was like all you could see was red. Here you were frustrated in the middle of the night and he had the nerve to look that attractive. His snapback pushing back his hair, displaying his forehead. Honestly it made him look like a fuck boy and it was a weakness. “Do you ever sleep?! It’s 3am!”

His mood immediately went on the defensive when you started yelling. “I live here too, and the last time I checked I don’t have a bedtime!”

“You are such an asshole! Turn the music down!” you hated that your immediate response was to stomp your foot like a child. But he was being childish too!

“You can’t tell me what to do” he scoffed rolling his eyes. “If I wanna play music until 6am I can!”

“You are so inconsiderate!”

“Me? What about you!? You always act like I’m the problem. I don’t complain when you’re being a pig! I clean everything” he rolled his eyes “You’re not perfect I just don’t whine about it”

Your eyes widdened at the sudden attack “If my mess bothers you then just clean it up or tell me about it! Don’t try and throw it in my face in a conversation about something else!”

“You’re the one that came over here to pick a fight with me! I have guests and you barley even wear clothes! You’re the one being inconsiderate” He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth and he saw how immediately you looked uncomfortable.

But there was no backing down now.

You immediately folded your arms over your chest, feeling far more exposed than you had realized. But it was the middle of the night. You were in your sleep clothes. Which tonight consisted of a pair of comfy short shorts, and a thin t-shirt. You were flustered and caught off guard with his attack. Suddenly you could feel the gaze of his friends, looking at you and you just felt so exposed.

He wanted to apologize the moment he saw your eyes glaze over. The frustrated embarrassed look becoming more noticeable. “I-”

“Do what you want” you mumbled before hurrying back to your room, slamming your door hard.

He groaned before slamming his door as well. He continues playing music throughout the night, even after his friends left. He knew he was doing it out of pettiness. But he hated that you came and yelled at him, and then he ended up feeling guilty.

It was always like that.

It was like everything he did pissed you off and he couldn’t help that you were sensitive to everything. You nagged him all the time. And if he wanted to be nagged he could have continued living with his mother. You even managed to guilt him after his one night stands left. It was uncomfortable. Why should he have to live like this? He did his best to make sure you lived comfortably. He knew living with a guy could be kinda uncomfortable so he never hit on you, made sure his friends never made a pass at you and you always make it hard for him.

He knew you were attractive and everything you wore was gonna be sexy but you could try harder to be ugly. He didn’t want to fight with you but he opened the door and the first thing he noticed was just how stunning you looked in such a simple outfit, one that he never really saw. You usually wore hoodies, or a robe when you walked around the common areas. And just as quickly as he took in the exposed skin, you yelled at him. Your hair was messy, your clothes disheveled, the neck of your v-neck falling off your shoulder. You just looked so kissable-so fuckable. And he couldn’t, so he threw a tantrum.

He’d figure out how to make it up to you tomorrow, he knew it was your day off so he figured he’d make breakfast as an apology.

He rolled out of bed bright and early to get started on your favorite breakfast but frowned seeing you drinking coffee and eating some bread. You were already dressed and ready for the day. He noticed the dark circles under your eyes, you rolling your neck stiffly. He looked at his phone checking the time. “Why are you awake?”

You rolled your eyes, and downed your coffee. “I have to go to work” you placed your cup in the sink, making sure to wash it and put it away before grabbing your bag. “Sorry if my exposed legs offend you, I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“Today’s your day off.” he ignored your little stab at him, he felt bad enough.

“I had to cover someone's shift.” you spat, shooting him a glare.

“Why didn’t you tell me last night...I would have-”

“You wouldn’t have care. I asked you to turn the music down…” you sighed heavily and walked over to the door, slipping your shoes on. “You never care.”

“Why didn’t you tell me...I would have never had the guys over if-” he jumped as you walked out slamming the door shut.

But that’s how things were between you two.

There was an undeniable tension, but after a few days it’d slowly die down. He’d ask you what you wanted for breakfast and things went back to normal. He never apologized for being inconsiderate, you never apologized for throwing a temper tantrum. It may not have been the healthiest but it worked.

Being roommates was about compromise right?

It’d been about two weeks since your last argument with Jisung and for all intents and purposes things were going well. He’d been more mindful of having people over only on the weekends, and keeping the music to a minimum on days you had early shifts. And you had been more mindful to clean and stay in your room when he had his friends over.

You yawned walking out of your bedroom, padding over to get a glass of water. Jisung was cozy on the couch with a blanket, flipping through movies to watch. “You enjoy your nap? It’s like midnight”

You nodded and grinned, downing your water. “It was the best four hour nap I’ve ever had. And the best part is I’m off tomorrow so I can sleep in.” You cleaned your cup before walking to him. “What are you doing back so early? Didn’t you have a date?”

He sighed before rubbing his temples “I did.” his tone curt and short.

“That bad huh?” you sat beside him, hugging your legs to your chest. “Wanna talk about it?”

“I picked her up, we had dinner…” he hesitated looking back to you, trying to read your expression. “And…”

You smirked, raising your eyebrow. “Had sex?” you laughed “I’m a big girl Jisung. I know what sex is.”

“I know- we just never talk about it or dating in general and stuff...I didn’t know if that was weird…” he fiddled with his sweater uncomfortably. “Like you don’t bring guys back…”

“Jisung no offence but, I don’t bring guys back when you’re home. It’s kinda uncomfortable too, and I don’t like scaring guys off with the My roommates is a guy, talk on first dates.”

“Woah- wait you brought guys back here after the first date?”

“Sometimes” you grinned, eyeing him “Han Jisung… You seem so surprised” your tone light and teasing. “Is it so hard to imagine that even I have sex?”

“No it’s just… “

“I’ll have you know I’m actually quite charming.”

“Oh I know” he looked a little embarrassed at how quickly it slipped out. “Like I know you’re hot and charming and… I dunno I just feel a little in the dark...I didn’t even know you were dating and yet I-”

“Bring your dates back home all the time.” you gave him a smug smile “Trust me, I know” you pointed to the walls. “They’re thin, remember? Oh and your dates always use my shampoo and body wash”

“I’m sorry…. That’s kinda rude isn’t it?”

You shook your head “Live comfortably”

“But you don’t…”

“Jisung, I don’t bring guys home when you’re here because I don’t want you to have to hear us.” you cheeks warmed as you chewed on your lower lip. “I’m kinda loud, I’m a little self conscious.”

“I wanna hear…” he turned toward you, his voice barely above a whisper. Part of him was hoping you didn’t hear him over the Netflix trailers, the other part of him prayed you heard him so he couldn’t chicken out.

“Do you?” your eyes darkened as you stared at him, slowly moving closer to him. He took in a sharp breath before pulling you into his lap. You grinned, straddling him, your lips inching closer to his before pulling away. Just ghosting the slightest bit, loving how he chased you. “Tell me bout your date and I’ll do whatever you want”

“Isn’t that kinda weird?” he tried to read your expression, but his wary look turned into one of intrigued as your smile grew. “Wait… Could you hear us earlier…?” He felt himself getting turned on more, as he noticed how warm you were, how flushed you got thinking about it. “I thought you were asleep…’

“You guys woke me up” you licked your lips, your hips moving against his just slightly. He stifled a groan before steadying your hips.

“It turns you on doesn’t it...? Hearing us?” Seeing your coy smile, he grabbed your jaw before pulling you into a deep kiss. His lips moved quickly against yours, as he nipped and chewed on your bottom lip. “Mmm…” He pulled your hoodie over the top of your head and groaned seeing your bare chest. “No shirt or bra?” he traced your soft, smooth skin, running his fingers up your sides.

“I never wear a bra at home” he smirked against your skin, kissing down your neck.

“You never answered my other question…” his teeth grazed your skin, reaching your nipples “Mmm such a pretty color Baby…” he whispered, his eyes peeking up at you as he peppered kisses before taking the bud into his mouth, sucking softly. His free hand palming your other one, gently tweaking your nipples. He loved how it made your squirm. You hips, desperate for friction. Almost angered by how much both your sweatpants got in the way. “Do you get turned on when you hear me have sex…? Did you wish it was you? Do you touch yourself…?” he chuckled, kissing your nipples, his teeth tracing them. Your head rolled back as you whined bucking your hips more. “Pay attention baby...answer me.”

“I get turned turned on…” your pout deepened before you cupped his squishy cheeks. “I wished it was me...and I always touch myself…” you leaned down closer to his ear, your lips brushing against the shell of his. “And I always cum…”

He gripped your hips tighter, digging into your skin. “Fuck….I…” he gripped your bottom, moving you closer to his crotch. “How many times did I make you cum tonight…?” his voice dropping an octave as he teased you. His fingers found their way into your sweatpants, teasing you from the outside of your panties. “Mmm and since when do you wear sweatpants?”

“I thought you said I didn’t wear enough clothes”

“Yeah when my friends are over and I’m trying to not fantasize about fucking you over every surface” he chuckled, rubbing a bit harder feeling your panties moistened. “Answer me Sweet girl….How many times did you cum?”

“Nnnn...how do you know I’m sweet?” you shivered as his finger rubbed against your slit. “You’ve never tasted me” you moaned softly.

“Stop trying to distract me, if you’re a good girl and answer me and I will.”

“T-twice…”

“I’m gonna double that” he whispered before tossing you on your back on the couch, making quick work of your sweatpants and panties.

You grinned as he settled himself between your legs. His mouth covered your core, as his tongue made its way inside you. Your thigh hooked around his shoulder as he deepened his teasing. “A-Ahh Jisung… you’re no fair” you panted “You never told me about your date”

“You minx” he grinned, pulling back just slightly pushing his index finger inside of you, curling it and watching you squirm. “You heard us, you know exactly why my date went badly.”

You shivered, gripping the arm of the couch. “But I want you to say it.” you licked your lips. “Please...I wanna hear it-Ah!”

He teased, shoving another finger inside of you, pumping it in and out. “Did it make you cum when you heard me call out your name instead?” his voice low and husky.

You nodded, squirming more from his teasing. “You sounded so sexy when you moaned my name” you reached down pulling at his shirt, pulling it over the top of his head. “I know you didn’t get to finish” you grinned. “Should I be nice and let you finish in me?”

“Please…” You ran your hand down his toned chest, the efforts of his workouts paying off so beautifully. He pressed his mouth over your center again, relentlessly, teasing and fingering you until you were a moaning mess. Your fingers tangled in his hair as you pressed him into you, desperate to cum, you were so close. But more than his tongue, more than his fingers, the thing that brought you closer to the edge was his intense eye contact. It was both shy and dominating. He just never looked away and for the rare moments he did, the way his gaze flashed up at you made you feel so flustered. “J-Jisung” you moaned out, your stomach tightening as you shivered. He helped you ride out your high, his fingers relentlessly moving until you came against him.

“Such a pretty girl…” he licked the slick off his lips before meeting your lips again. “You were so good for me..”

“I can be better” you reached for the growing tent in his pants, rubbing him. “Let me..” you crawled closer to him, wanting to return the favor.

“No baby.. I don’t need it. Right now all I need is you.”

“But-”

“I’ve literally been thinking about you all night, I promise if you put your lips on me, I’m not gonna last.” he gave you a sheepish look, almost embarrassed from his confession.

“Fine” you pouted pulling his sweatpants and boxers down his thighs.

“Don’t pout” he chuckled, kissing your jaw. “Next time Baby”

He was fully erect, pre-cum leaking from his swollen head. You smiled, wrapping your fingers around him and rubbing him firmly. “I need you…”

His head rolled back as he closed his eyes. The feeling of your fingers around him was like a dream. “Mmm Baby, I need to get a condom”

You shook your head and grinned, your grip tightening a little. “No~I want you now…”

“You serious?”

“I wanna feel you Jisung~ Can’t I? Will you let me?” your voice so soft as you coaxed him into a deep kiss. Your tongue rolling against his “Please?”

“You beg for me so well..Fuck-yes Baby” you rubbed himself against your wet entrance, slowly pushing himself inside. There it was again, that beautiful eye contact, that little furrow in his brow when he concentrated, his soft lips pulling into a pout as he moved against you. Your arms wrapped around his neck, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck.

“It’s ok, you can go harder.” you encouraged him.

And that was all he needed before he began to pound into you more vigorously. His hands moving down your body, cupping your breast and rubbing against your side. Like he was just desperate to touch everywhere. His lips occasionally finding yours to tease. “C’mere…”

He pulled you onto his lap again, his back against the couch as he let you ride him. He hit deeper at the new angle, and you loved every second of it. You arched your back, gripping the couch as you moved your hips faster, in a circular motion to stimulate yourself.

His lips sucking the soft skin of your neck, leaving a mark as you moved. His strong hands on your hips guiding you back and forth on him. “Faster baby” he whispered huskily. Your moans music to his ears, his, your desperate cries of his name, encouraging him more. “I’m almost there, are you close?”

“Not quite but don’t worry about me I-” you moaned out louder, feeling him tease and squeeze your clit. “Ah-Jisung!”

He kept rubbing your clit harder, desperate thrusting into you, his free hand moving your hips harder. “Cum for me Baby…” he whispered sweet nothings against your skin, taking your bottom lip between his teeth.

He could feel you pick up the pace, your body shivering as your second climax inched closer. “That’s my girl…” he slammed into you, gripping so tight as he released, he kept moving until he felt you cum following not far behind him, just long enough before the over stimulation became too much to handle.

“Jisung” you whined, holding his shoulders to steady him, your face collapsing in his chest as you calmed yourself, and steadied your breathing. You could feel him start to soften inside you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

“Mmm… you’re right you are pretty loud, it’s so sexy” he chuckled running his hand up and down your back.

You pulled back to look at him and pecked his nose softly. “I’m really glad your date ended badly tonight”

“Hell, me too” he laughed “I’ve had a crush on your since you moved in, but kinda figured I shouldn’t try and hit on my roommate” he playfully spanked your behind for you to get up. He grabbed a towel from the bathroom and got you both cleaned off before he tugged back on his sweats, you only bothered to put on a new pair of panties and a t-shirt. He cleaned up your clothes to put near the laundry while shyly looking at you, like he was trying to find the courage to speak.

“What is it?” you leaned against your door frame, watching him fidget with everything in his path from the washing machine to your door.

“I-Um...Do you wanna go on a date tomorrow?” he asked shyly, standing in front of your door. “I know the order is kinda backwards but, I really am interested in you and I was kinda hoping this wasn’t just a one night thing. I mean-If it was that’s cool with me too, like no pressure but”

“You’re rambling” you grinned “I’d love to go out tomorrow.”

“Really?!” he smiled so brightly, his beautiful brown eyes disappearing in a crescent shape as that gorgeous gummy smile graced his face.

“Really” you giggled, subtly touching his hand. “You weren’t the only one with a crush Jisung”

“Can I kiss you goodnigh-” you interrupted his silly question, pressing your lips against his before pulling him into your bedroom.

End.

( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ Hey Friends I hope you liked that one shot, it was my first smut for stray kids, i know it was kinda long. But it seemed silly to split it up into parts so I hope you didn’t mind >///< If you liked it let me know~

-D❍MI

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harpersplay · 3 years ago

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Genuine non-troll white woman here - you wrote "So I already knew that Good Girls was a white feminism phantasmagoria...But, jesus fucking christ, y'all are just showing your true colours lately. The way you talk about a MOC in relation to a white woman is disgusting." Not asking you to call out specific people or posts or start any kind of flame war but what would be a general example of what you are talking about? I follow a good chunk of people and I'm not seeing this maybe b/c I'm not following the same people, maybe out of willful blindness, maybe I'm not recognizing it - again, b/c of ignorance, etc. Just trying to understand what you mean - and not do it obviously, if I am doing it.

I apologise for taking a longish time to answer this. Honestly, I wasn't sure I wanted to get into it. Anyway, I'd first like to say that this is all my opinion. What bothers me might not bother someone else. BIPOC are not a monolith. Even subsections aren't. Not all Mexican trans men are a monolith. Neither are all Japanese lesbians. You get the idea. And that's not even including people like Ben Carson or Caitlyn Jenner—people who support and work for policies that actively harm the marginalised group of which they are a part. Secondly, I know this isn't your intention, but asking POC to tell you what is ok to do and what is not is a slippery slope to "my [blank] friend said this was ok." Finally, the fandom is quite small so it is pretty hard to give general examples. I don't know if it's more trouble to quote specific posts or not, because some will think it is about them anyway. Anything I'm going to mention I've seen on Tumblr, Instagram, Reddit and/or Twitter. But there are definitely popular Tumblr blogs that all push the same narrative. Oh, and one last thing, I haven't seen any of what I'm referring to from people I follow.

Ok, let's go. For a very long time, mainly WOC have pointed out the racial problems within the show and the extremely dismissive attitude about those problems from mainly white women. And while these same women have written thousands (even tens of thousands) or words about Beth (it's always Beth) and her struggles and the amazingness of such a complex female character (ymmv), they brush aside commentary about racism as either nitpicking, not understanding the show is about the 3 women (tell that to all the white men with fleshed-out storylines), or misogyny. The last is especially hostile because they are often talking over Black women and misogynoir is a very real fucking thing that couples the fun of being hated for being a woman with the delight of good old-fashioned racism. They espouse the idea that people having a problem with Beth are all covert & overt misogynists. But talk out the other side of their mouths that they can't possibly be racist even when they support racism in the show or ignore concerns brought up by fans of colour. And that is just the absolute height of hypocrisy. Because by the former they acknowledge that people in a marginalised group (women) can still be anti- that group (a phenomenon with which I agree). But in the latter, suddenly they don't understand that concept.

Specific to the post you are responding to, fans that purport to like Brio write about the relationship in ways that reveal how much of their enjoyment comes from Rio being inferior to Beth. It's all about what he can do for her, how he acts against his best interests for her, how he literally denies himself sexual pleasure for her. Those are all meant to show how in love he is with her. But the show never bothers to tell us why. And, no, this is not because the show is so deep. Other romantic relationships they have scenes that are explicit about the characters' feelings. But Rio, after being shot, after being betrayed, after being mocked, is just so in love with Beth....because. (MYSTERIOUS!) And the Beth stans are more than fine with this because they think everyone should be as obsessed with Beth as they are. But it's bad storytelling. And, in this particular case, it gets into very dicey racist tropes. A white women treating her Latino lover like an afterthought is not the same as a white women treating her white lover like an afterthought. It just isn't. And if some of these fans are as smart as they pretend to be, they know that. They just don't care. Much like the showrunners.

There was so much talk defending the drawn-out Boland marriage because why can't we understand how hard it is for Beth—who is, at various times, claimed to be emotionally abused by Dean or staying with him because it is safe and comfortable—and we don't appreciate how difficult it is for her (I may be one of the few divorced people talking about this show on Tumblr, so this has always made me laugh). Yet there was nothing but glee when Rio flipped on his brousin (who was written as both abusive and safe) for Beth. Where was the empathy for Rio and how hard it was for him? Especially because, unlike Beth, he didn't even have one parent? Hadn't the Beth stans used her very tragical history™️ to explain away her every shitty act? idk, not having any parents and going to jail (as a minor?) and being betrayed by your family seems pretty tragic. But I didn't see them all of a sudden excusing Rio's bad behaviour. Because, feminism or something?

What about Beth's feelings? Last season she spent trying to have him killed. This season she spent looking annoyed by him. Throughout both she talked down to him in a specific white woman way that every BIPOC has experienced, even if some of them are cool with it. There were multiple opportunites for Beth to talk about her feelings with Ruby and/or Annie, but the writers made the deliberate choice to always make it about sex (and god, the immature way they had these three grown women talk was fucking obnoxious). She spent the last 2 seasons also wanting him out of her life to the point that a majority of her actions in S4 were motivated by getting to Nevada with her husband and kids. Beth doesn't care about Rio but Rio needs to put Beth above everything because he's just so in love like he's never been before (which is blatant Marcus & Rhea erasure). And anyone who doesn't think Beth would have just as happily been sitting on that bench plotting how to "run the city" (hahahahaha!) with Nick if the situation worked out differently hasn't been paying attention.

So, what do we have? A white woman who is constantly excused (by the loudest portion of the fandom) for all her ill treatment to her Black BFF & her Black husband, her Asian coworker, her Latina "friend," and Rio (among others) because her life is hard and who is not required to even be nice to her supposed "endgame". And a MOC who is expected to accept being treated poorly by the white woman because he loves her.

And, a last thing, this attitude grossly crossed over into talk about real people when the fans—who self-righteously claimed to be above anon sources or talking about the actors—latched on to the narrative and enjoyed blaming the MOC actor for the cancellation of the show, even dragging his insignificant (in terms of influence) Black wife into it. All while conveniently ignoring that the creator/showrunner is a white woman. The star & producer is a white woman. The people making the decisions at NBCU & Netflix were white women. All white women with so much more power than the Latino actor.

Shit, did I answer your question? I know this is a lot. But I could honestly make mulitple posts on each issue I touched on here. Basically, white people ain't slick, be they content creators or fans. We see how & what y'all talk about. We see that Rio not having a last name is not a big deal to you and we know why that is. So we're fucking tired. And we're over a show that had so much potential crapping all over their POC characters to prop up a white woman. And we're repulsed by the white women in the fandom who use their tears to seem oppressed and who toss around the word misogynist because POC dare call a Karen a Karen.

#nbc good girls #good girls nbc #racism in the text #racism in fandom #fragile whiteness #white feminism #what fandom chooses to talk about #and what it chooses to ignore #anon asks

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jawritter · 4 years ago

Text

Merry Christmas Sweetheart

Summary: Time doesn’t heal all wounds, sometimes it just drives them into our bones and festers there, until forgiveness is a four letter word, and it’s to late for second chances.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Written for: @spnchristmasbingo

Square Field: Presents

Word Count: 2048

Beta’d by: @miss-nerd95! Thanks again love!

Warnings: Language, Heart break, Heavy angst, (This one is gonna hurt your feelings), Not really a very happy ending, a bit of a cliff hanger, Tears, past heartbreak, unrequited love. I think that’s it.

A/N: Merry Christmas @msmarvelouswinchester!! Lol, glad I found someone who loves their feelings hurt as much as I do! LOL. Hope you all enjoy this one! Please don’t copy my work! I promise my next bingo one shot will be fluffy. I was just really in my head when I wrote this one.

***MASTERLIST*** ***BECOME A PATREON***

It was cold today, especially for Austin. Your breath fogged in front of you with each puff of air from your lungs that burned in the bitter cold. A light dusting of snow fell around about, not much to keep everyone locked in their homes, but enough to gather on the top of cars that were parked out in the lot just beyond the safety of the airport terminal hanger that you were standing in front of with your bag slung over your shoulder, hands stuffed deep in your pockets.

The congestion of traffic appeared to be even thicker than what you remembered it being, even for the holidays. Everyone that walked by to get into cabs or ubers, seemed to be absorbed in their own little bubbles; either talking on phones or to one another as they made their way to their awaiting ride.

If you listened hard enough, you could hear the faint sounds of the customary cheerful music of the holidays playing in one of the little shops inside of the airport as the doors opened and closed not so far behind you. Off in the distance you could see the Christmas lights strung up in an elegant way on a lamp post and draped over shrubbery in the fading light of another day. It almost looked like a scene from some shitty Hallmark Christmas special, and it made your stomach churn uneasily.

It had been eleven long years since you had stepped foot on Texas soil, and you were seriously considering getting the hell out of here before he showed up, but it was too late to turn around. You could always tell him you missed your flight, or it got delayed by the weather so you just cancelled it, but you just knew that he wouldn’t buy it.

“Come on Steve,” you grumbled to yourself as yet another car pulled away from the hanger you were waiting under, and a happy, probably newly married from the looks of it, love-struck couple nuzzled together to fight against the bite of the cold wind that whipped around and sliced through your bones.

You probably would have been better off calling an uber to pick you up, but hey, Steve didn’t charge, and you really didn’t want anyone else to know you were here. Not yet atleast, mostly because you didn’t know if you were even going to stay.

Just as you were about to take your phone out and call him, the pair of headlights you had been waiting for pulled up in front of you.

You didn’t even let the car come to a complete stop before you pulled the door open and slipped inside, shaking slightly from the cold as you pulled the seat belt over you, meeting a pair of green eyes that were so not what you expected to see, and your heart dropped to your feet.

“Hey,” he said, his deep voice sounding like warm honey against the chill that was still making you shiver, and you hated the way you could still so easily drown into it. You were going to murder Steve when you saw him again.

“What are you doing here?” You asked through gritted teeth, and you could have sworn you saw him give out a shaky sigh as he pulled out onto the road.

“Steve mentioned he was picking you up today, and I told him I’ll do it because I wanted to see you,” Jensen said, tightening his grip on the steering wheel and shifting nervously, avoiding the death glare that you were giving him. “You left the night I told you Danneel and I were getting married, and I never saw you again. Not even a fucking word. Then I heard you're coming here, and I wanted to see you. I missed my friend.”

“The term ‘friend’ is a matter of one sided opinions, Jensen,” you told him shortly, not missing the way he flinched yet again out of the corner of your eye before trying to subtly readjust himself in his seat.

An awkward silence fell in the car, and you did your best to stare out the window and not at the man that was driving. Even though your eyes were trained on the blurry and dimly lit scenery you could still sense his every move, smell his cologne in the thick air that laid stagnant between you, hear every deep sigh that left his perfect lips as he struggled with words he wanted to say, but nothing would sound right; nothing felt right anymore.

“What are you doing in town,” he finally asked cautiously, as if he knew that one wrong move would set you off and you were suddenly demanding he pull over so that you could walk the rest of the way to Steve’s.

“Business,” you answer sharply, not in the mood for small talk, but it looked like Jensen thought awkward conversations won over awkward silences and pressed further.

“Business? This close to Christmas?” he asked, but your nerves were beginning to wear thin, and the old scars on your heart felt like they were being torn open inch by inch the longer you sat next to the man that had put them there all those years ago.

“It's real estate,” you snap, turning to face him in the seat fully in your building frustration. “Does your wife know you're here right now?”

You watched as the rebuttal question cut through him as if you had thrown a sword right at his chest. The visible shift and the clearing of his throat as he avoided your sharp gaze was speaking loud, but it only added to your growing confusion that was still somewhat blinding your judgement with old grief.

Jensen cleared his throat as he turned onto Steve’s street, still avoiding your gaze. “What kind of real estate?” he asked, trying to divert the topic, and your blood boiled under your skin.

“So you're just going to answer my question with another question? That’s real mature Jensen,” you snapped as he pulled in front of Steve’s little place, and put the car in park.

“Because I don’t want to talk about Danneel, I wanted to talk about you. I told you, I’ve missed you. You were my best friend Y/N, why did you leave me without so much as a goodbye or even a fuck you if you were so mad at me, and then show up again all these years later on 'business,' I deserve some answers too.”

You shook your head and bit back the tears that the taunting memory of the night you’d boarded a plane to New York with only a bag full of clothes, and the shattered pieces of your heart ripped through your out of repair.

You turned away from his broken gaze that still managed to make your heart clench, and gripped the handle of the door tightly, ripping it open and letting in the chill of the night air that only seemed to grow colder due to meeting Jensen to blow into the car.

“Oh you missed me so much, didn't you?” you asked, pure venom seeping into every word as your eyes threw daggers into his astonishing green orbs in the dim light that illuminated the small space between you.

“Did you miss me when you stood before God and our friends when you did your vows with that whore? After everything when I’d stood by your side, after all the years we had been together, did you miss me then? How about when she gave birth to your three children, and you were standing there in the delivery room with her? Or better yet, how about every time you were balls deep in that bitch while I was only in the next room, listening to you rip my heart out and stomp on it over and over again? You didn’t miss me then Jensen, you don’t miss me now. You feel guilty, but you shouldn’t. You can only feel what you feel and can't change what you want, but apparently pretty narcissistic bitches are more of your taste than people who actually care about you. I was right there in front of you for years and you never gave me the time of day, but one month on a movie set with her and ‘you were so in love. I left all those years ago because you left me a long time before I even landed in New York. So don’t sit here and act like you missed me, when you never saw me there at all like I wanted you to. Don't make me feel bad for leaving when you know it hurt me less than staying here.”

You tore your eyes away from him before your emotions could get the best of you, and stepped out, making your way into Steve’s home to hide from the past that was still sitting in the car outside, staring out of the window as the snow fell on the windshield.

Jensen bit down hard on his lower lip, trying not to choke on the sobs he refused to let out.

See, he had missed you, he’d missed you so damn much. He had missed you when he looked at the woman he settled for instead standing at the altar across from him on his wedding day, only marrying her because it was what people were telling him that it was the right thing to do. That she was in the same industry, and the marriage would be good for the two of them. He missed you during every milestone his kids made that never got shared with you, wishing it was you by his side. He didn't love his kids any less, but even though they weren't yours, he wished he’d have been able to share them with you like he’d always wanted to share everything. He couldn’t count the times he’d hidden away to call you, just to hear your voice, but chickened out over the years because he’d known he hurt you, he’d always known but let you get hurt just to play it safe.

That time you were talking about, how you'd heard Danneel and him before they had announced their engagement, he didn’t know you were even there. Danneel had come onto him and he was a little too drunk to say no. Not that he hated her, because he never could hate her, she’d done nothing wrong. It was his twisted mind that painted you underneath him every time they were together, not her.

Jensen took off his ball cap with force before throwing it at the dash and running his hands harshly down his tear stained face. He’d lost you all those years ago and never told you how he felt, and now it seemed like he was too late.

The cue he’d staged, the house he’d decided to look at that he had his lawyer call her to tell her that his client wanted to buy from the best realtor in New York, all to tell her that he loved her, always had and always will and that he knew how huge of a dick he had been by ignoring her feelings for his own selfishness. It looked like it was too late for any of it anyway.

His hand drifted to his pocket, pulling out the small, neatly wrapped box that contained his and Danneel’s wedding rings. He was planning to show them to you tomorrow for Christmas. He was going to tell you that they were over, and that he wanted to fix what he’d broken all those years ago with you if you'd be willing to let go of his stupid mistakes. He wanted another chance, but it was much slimmer now.

Jensen flipped the box in his hands before getting out of the car, trudging through the white blankets of snow to the front door, and placed the little box carefully on the step before he stood, leaning heavily against the door frame, trying to stop himself from falling apart.

“Merry Christmas Sweetheart,” he brokenly whispered into the unforgiving wind. Leaving his present to you, as well as his heart on his best friend's front door.

Forever Tags: @deanwanddamons @rvgrsbrns @chevyharvelle @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @brilovesdeanwinchester @idksupernatural @lyarr24 @amandamdiehl @love-jackles-37-blog @miraclesoflove @Waywardsistershy @emoryhemsworth @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel @softsebastian @tatted-trina6 @anaelsbrunette @hayleeharling @flamencodiva @coldmuffinbanditshoe @bxbyizzy @dirty-pan-goblin @itmejado @supernatural3002 @teresa-67 @thoughts-and-funnies @hearteyes-j2 @miss-nerd95 @writers-whirlwind

#jensen ackles #jensen ackes one shot #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles angst #spn fanfiction #jensen x reader #jensen x you #spn fanfic #spn one shot #dean winchester #jawritter #spnchristmasbingo

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schrijverr · 3 years ago

Text

'Till Death Do Us Part

Part 1 out of 13

When Alex has to bring Philip to work, he and Thomas discover that they both have something in common: they lost their love. They form an unexpected bond and connection about this that grows into something more.

A medium burn with parental feelings about Philip and flowers.

On AO3.

Ships: Jamilton

Warnings: mentions of grief and death

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1: Canterbury Bell Means ‘Acknowledging’

Alex ran a hand through his hair as he thought of who to call. Philip’s teacher had just called that today school would be canceled due to a mishap yesterday, but his usual babysitter wasn’t available on such short notice.

Maria and Eliza would usually be up to babysit, but they were away on their honeymoon, Angelica worked with him, so she was out, Laf was in France and Herc had that fashion show. He cursed, then looked at Philip to check if he’d heard.

Philip was oblivious. The five-year-old was happily munching on soggy cereal as he watched some kids show.

He was a well behaved sweet child.

Alex smiled and watched his son. It ached how much he looked like John with his freckles and little curls and in moments like these he wished the other was still there, so he wouldn’t have to deal with everything on his own.

“What are we doing today, Papa?” Philip asked.

“I’m going to work, do you want to come with me?” Alex made up his mind, he was sure Washington wouldn’t mind seeing Philip again and he knew Philip would be on his best behavior in the office.

“Yeah!” Philip cheered happily, starting to munch on his food slightly faster.

Alex chuckled at the sight, before sending Angelica a message of why he would be slightly late and who he would have with him.

Then it was bustling through getting the sock on the right foot and the shoes on, making sure Philip’s jacket was on correctly and his shirt not inside out, before almost forgetting his keys as they made their way out the door.

It was the first time since John’s death that Alex was late to work. It was only a few minutes, but it was more noticeable since he was usually way too early.

With Philip on his hip he rushed to his office where an email informed him that the meeting of the afternoon was rescheduled for now, but he could still make it if he hurried.

“Should we go see Grandpa George? Would you like that buddy?” he asked Philip.

He grinned as the boy’s eyes lit up and he bounced so much, he almost fell out of Alex’s arms as he chuckled: “Okay, okay, let’s go.”

Alex opened the door with an apologetic grin as he said: “I’m sorry, the morning was a bit hectic, I just got in.”

Philip wiggled out of his arms and ran to Washington, who caught the boy easily as he assured Alex: “It’s alright, son. Angelica told me already.”

With a sigh of relief Alex set his stuff down, not even bothering to correct Washington about the moniker, before calling Philip over to him and explaining: “I have to do boring work now, but I have some paper and pencils for you, so that you can color. Does that sound fun, Pip? Will you tell me if you need to pee?”

“Yes, Papa,” Philip promised, taking the coloring materials and settling down in Alex’s lap peacefully.

The love he had of drawing was something he shared with his Daddy and Alex always choked up slightly when he saw that concentrated face and the pencil. He was quickly distracted, however, by a certain Virginian saying something stupid and he mostly forgot about Philip in his lap as the meeting progressed.

About an hour into the meeting, Philip pulled on Alex’s jacket and whispered: “Papa, I have to go pee.”

Alex cut himself off mid sentence and smiled down at the boy: “I’m sure, Grandpa George wouldn’t mind if we take a small break to go pee. You hungry, Pip?”

“A bit,” Philip confessed.

“Well, then it’s a good thing, I have a little snack for you,” he said, as he got up, putting Philip down on his two feet as he took his hand, “Come on, buddy.”

Philip followed his Papa contently as Washington cleared his throat: “I think we can all do with a break, gentlemen.”

Thomas frowned. He already thought it quite irresponsible to bring a kid to work, but he supposed the reason must be good enough if Angelica agreed, however stopping a meeting right as they were getting somewhere was annoying.

The kid was cute though. Thomas had no clue who the mother was. Hell, he hadn’t even known Alex was married, or divorced with how he was married to his work.

Also, Grandpa George? Talk about nepotism.

He blinked as Alex got back with Philip. The kid seemed less fidgety and was eating a granola bar with little chocolate chips in it as Alex smiled down gently, not at all like normally. Though, Thomas supposed, he only got to see Alex when the other was yelling or presenting.

It was strange to see Alex so domestic. He had often pictured the other like that, but now it was even easier to picture him – sadly – with a faceless woman, which send a pang through Thomas. It was pathetic how he was crushing on an already taken coworker who hated him.

Though Thomas would never act on those feelings, so it shouldn’t – didn’t – even hurt... that much.

After Martha, he just didn’t know if he could move on like that, but he could allow himself to watch, to torture himself with what he never had or will have.

The rest of the meeting went smoothly with everyone pretending they didn’t notice the small boy crawling under the big table with play cars as he made soft ‘vroom vroom’-noises.

When everyone was leaving Alex squatted and called out: “Hey, Pip, you having fun there?”

“Yes, Papa,” the little voice called back.

“That’s great, buddy,” Alex smiled, “Would you mind moving? We need to go back to my office now, but you can keep playing.”

“But then my cars can’t go to their base under the chair and they need to, because the evil monkeys are after them and they have to go back to defend it,” Philip explained.

Alex listened closely and nodded: “Seems like they’re hardworking cars, Pip. Remember when I was working hard and then we went on a vacation to that cottage in the forest?”

That was a lie, sort of. He had been throwing himself into work because John’s death date had been coming up and Angelica had forced him to take a vacation, sadly backed up by Washington, though Alex had to admit it had been for the better.

“Yes?” Philip was obviously confused about the question.

“Maybe your cars also deserve a vacation,” he said, “They can go on vacation in my office and take a rest from fighting the evil monkeys.”

“Ooh, yes,” the little boy exclaimed as he made his way to his father, who double checked if all their stuff was with them.

When he turned to the door, he was surprised to find Thomas there, soft smile on his face as he waited. Thomas noticed and held up the keys: “It’s my turn to lock up.”

“Ah, well, thank you for waiting,” Alex said awkwardly.

“I didn’t know you had a kid,” Thomas started, trying to fill the strange silence.

“I’m not much of a family talker, but Philip is my pride and joy,” Alex told him, “He’s very smart, isn’tthat right, Pip?”

“Yes, my teacher says I’m very good, one of the bestest in class and I can already write my name. I also draw very good already,” Philip bragged, “And Papa always says I will blow eeeveryone away.”

“Oh, wow, kiddo, that’s pretty good,” Thomas humored the kid, charmed by his smile and excited gestures as he talked, kind of like Alex in a way.

“Well, bye Hamilton.”

“Ah, yes, bye Jefferson.”

They awkwardly went their separate ways, not used to the fact that one of them wasn’t stomping away angrily while the other yelled at them.

Alex shook his head, he felt weird with Thomas being nice to him. He had smiled at Philip and it was genuine, not his normal ‘I’m better than you’- smirk that made Alex want to punch him. It looked good on him and Alex hated how good it looked on him.

Sure, he’s always known Thomas was attractive, but he had a soft spot for people who were good with kids and it didn’t help the stupid feelings he thought he’d suppressed well enough. God, the other man hated him, what was he even thinking?

He tried to let go of the thought as he set Philip down with all the stuff to keep him occupied as he got to work, hoping to get his proposal for the financial planning of the company done.

Philip reminded him to eat lunch, because he was hungry and he went to Angelica, because Philip wanted to see Auntie Angie. For Philip he would do anything, the little boy had him wrapped around his finger.

Angelica was more than happy to eat lunch with them and humored Philip when she listened to his explanation of his car story line until he got distracted by the coloring place mats they had at the restaurant.

Then she turned to Alex and asked: “How are you?”

“I’m doing good, Angie, really. This is not me not taking care of either of us, I swear,” he said, already knowing why she was asking and slightly annoyed, “The school canceled last minute and the babysitter couldn't come and everyone else was busy.”

“Just checking, ‘Lex. We know how hard it’s been since John passed, we just worry,” she soothed his ruffled feathers.

Alex sighed: “I know, I know. I still miss him, but it’s getting better.”

“How much better? Not to be rude, ‘Lex, but you’re wound up. You need to get laid,” she said bluntly.

“Angie!” he exclaimed, glancing at Philip, “There are children here.”

“Yes, and he’s been too focused on his drawing for the past five minutes to pay attention to us,” she rolled her eyes, “But I’m assuming that’s a no to the getting laid.”

“I’m too old for casual hook-ups, Angelica,” he told her, “If I’m going back into dating, I’m going to look for something serious. But no one is looking for a widower in his thirties with a five-year-old kid. And I can’t commit to someone who isn’t going to commit to Pip. He doesn’t need that.”

Angelica nodded: “You’re right, just try not to turn into a sad lonely old man.”

“Like you’re becoming a lonely old woman?” he teased.

“Alexander!” she swatted him lightly.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you’re as radiant as ever, a beacon of beauty and youth,” he retracted his statement with a grin.

“That’s better,” she grinned back.

“Papa, I finished my drawing,” Philip interrupted the two adults, almost spilling his drink when he proudly held up his place mat.

Alex smiled: “That’s beautiful, Pip. Want to take it home tonight?”

“Oh, can I?” the boy asked.

“Of course, buddy,” Alex ruffled his hair, carefully putting the drawing in his briefcase with his other papers, so that he could hang it on the art wall.

They returned to the office and said their goodbyes to Angelica, before Alex got back to work.

It was quiet for a while, then Philip said: “Papa, I’m bored, can I walk around? I can go to Auntie Angie? I promise not to dis- dis- bother other people.”

“Disturb?” Alex asked.

Philip nodded that it was the right word, then asked: “Please, Papa. I promise I’ll be good. I know where Auntie Angie is and if I can’t find you I’ll go to Grandpa George after.”

The boy put on his best puppy eyes, which he had inherited from John, and Alex had never managed to say no to those eyes, so he relented: “Be back in an hour okay? That’s when that big arm is at the four, alright? Be sure to tell Auntie Angie.”

“Alright, Papa!” the boy said, already bouncing out his office with the pent up energy of a small child who had sat for nearly the entire day.

Alex smiled and watched him go. He contemplated getting up to check if Philip made it down the hall alright, but stopped himself.

A memory flashed through his minds eye of John holding a baby Philip and smirking: “You can’t always be there, ‘Lexi. You gotta let him be his own man at some point.”

“But he’s a baby,” he had protested at the time.

John had leaned forwards and kissed his nose: “But he won’t be forever, he’s gotta grow up just like you did. Ain’t nothing wrong with a bit of independence, sweetheart. Letting go is good at some point, just start small.”

He could let go.

Walking down the hall of the office to an adult he knew wasn’t the ultimate danger Philip would face, this was good. A small start just like John had said.

So, with reluctance he focused back on his work and easily got into the zone again as he did. It was easy to loose himself into his work. He was sure that if Philip hadn’t been there, he would have worked himself to death.

Meanwhile Philip walked down the hall, skipping and jumping just because he could and wanted to. He was really planning on visiting Auntie Angie, but he’d already seen her at lunch, so when he saw something more interesting, he stopped.

It was the Mister from before, Jeff- something, it was a long name and Philip hadn’t been paying attention, though he recalled it being a familiar name. He felt bad now, the man had seemed impressed with him.

Maybe he would want to play with him? But he’d promised Papa not to disturb the other people.

Apparently he’d been standing in the man’s doorway long enough for him to notice and ask him if he needed anything and where his Papa was.

“Papa said I could go walk around a bit,” he told the man, “My cars are on vacation and it’s a bit boring and I don’t feel like coloring. Do you like cats, Mister?”

It seemed the man was startled by his sudden change of topic, but he smiled easily and said: “You can call me Thomas.”

“Okay, Mr. Thomas,” Philip nodded, “Do you like cats?”

With Mr. Thomas not actively telling him to go away, Philip decided it was safe to enter the office and Mr. Thomas just pointed at a chair for him to sit in, so he did. He looked at Mr. Thomas awaiting his answer.

“Sure,” he said, “Why do you ask, kiddo?”

Philip shrugged: “Uncle Laf calls Papa petit lion and Uncle Herc explained to me that it’s a type of cat. Auntie Eliza and Auntie Maria wanteda cat, but Auntie Angie is allergic to them, so she doesn’t agree. But Grandpa George and Grandma Martha have cat, though Papa doesn’t like him very much, even though he likes other cats. So I wondered what you thought about cats.”

“Well, I think cats are nice,” Mr. Thomas said.

“Do have a cat?” Philip asked.

Thomas gave up any pretense of work, he hadn’t wanted to do anything anyway and the kid was way more interesting. He shook his head: “No, my friend, Jemmy, is allergic too and I like having him come to the house.”

“Can’t do that if there’s a cat,” Philip said, nodding his head sagely as if he had all the wisdom in the world.

“Yeah,” Thomas laughed at the display, then said: “I don’t know if sitting in my office is going to be very entertaining, kiddo. I don’t really have toys lying around.”

“That’s alright,” Philip said, “You’re Jeff-” he hummed trying to find the name, “Jefferson?” he suddenly remembered, but he didn’t sound very certain.

Thomas nodded: “Yeah, Thomas Jefferson. Why?”

“Papa talks about you lots,” Philip confided in him, recalling why the name was familiar, “He says you’re a meanie, but I think you’re nice, Mr. Thomas. I think Papa does too, he just don’t wanna say it. He says you’re smart, he only says that about Auntie Angie.”

God, the secrets this kid had from Alex ranting at him would be enormous, but Thomas wasn’t going to interrogate a kid about what his father thought of him. A small part of him, however, preened slightly at the indirect compliment from Hamilton.

He pushed the thought down, the man was married and had kids.

“I don’t know, kiddo. Me and your Papa are,” he hesitated, how do you tell a kid that the most talking you do with his father is yelling insults at each other, “We’re not the best buddies,” he finished lamely.

“That’s sad, I think you and Papa would get along greatly. I like you and Papa says I have good taste,” the kid sounded proud of that and Thomas couldn't help but smile, “I think you have good taste too, Mr. Thomas.”

“Really?” Thomas asked curiously.

“Yes, I like your flowers,” Philip pointed to the vase Thomas had filled on a whim, because he’d been sad a few days ago.

“Thanks, kiddo. They’re Canterburybells,” he said, then had a bright idea, “Hey, since you and I have such fantastic taste, why don’t you help me pick out the colors for my presentation? Then I can read you a story if you’d like. I got books.”

Philip lit up and bounced to the other side of the desk, already telling Thomas loudly about which colors were the bestest.

In the end the presentation was yellow and magenta (Thomas was going to have a field day with that) with neon green letters. It was disgusting to look at and Thomas knew he was going to keep and treasure it, especially because Alex couldn’t say anything of it.

He had mostly stuffy old literature on his shelves in the office, but there was also a fairy tale book for when he needed to calm down, not that anyone knew about that, and he read Philip the tale of Hansel and Gretel.

When they were done Philip asked for the time, saying: “Papa told me to be back in an hour, when the big arm was on the four.”

Thomas checked the time, it was five to four. He turned back to Philip: “Well, then young man, you must be going. Here, I’ll accompany you.”

The five-year-old didn’t seem to mind him tagging along as they walked down the hall to Hamilton’s office.

What Thomas hadn’t expected was for the office to be empty. The laptop wasn’t there and only papers and empty mugs scattered the desk. Thomas quickly glanced down to Philip, who looked confused as he asked: “Where’s Papa?”

“I don’t know, kiddo,” Thomas told him honestly, he spotted a phone on the desk and mentally cursed, if Hamilton had forgotten his kid and phone he was going to scream. Though it was highly unlikely the man would leave that early.

Then he spotted a note on the desk: Angie or Washington, I don’t know which one of you Pip will look for. I got called by fucking Lee for an emergency (I doubt it actually is, but you know how he gets, the prick). I’ll be back before five, please just watch him for me. I’m so sorry.

Relief coursed through Thomas’s veins that Alex had at least been responsible enough to leave a note.

He turned to Philip: “Hey, the note says your Papa has been called away for a bit.”

“Oh, okay,” Philip replied, “What do I do?”

Philip really was a smart kid, probably got it from his dad. Thomas smiled: “I don’t mind hanging out with you for a little bit longer, but maybe I could call your mom?”

It was an acceptable time to be done with work earlyand Thomas knew Lee was as much of a prick as Alex’s note had claimed, and the man hated Alex. Ifhe could keep him busy, he would, just because it would piss Alex off.

“I don’t have a mom,” Philip told him.

Thomas knew Alex was bi of course, but with the kid he’d made the assumption. He quickly adapted and said: “Do you have a dad then?”

Philip nodded and Thomas was about to ask if he knew how to contact him, trying to ignore the pang of jealousy, when the kid said: “But Papa said I can’t see Daddy, because he’s living with the angels now.”

Oh fuck, Thomas had not seen this coming and he was floundering.

“According to Papa, he didn’t mean to go, but he can’t get back to us. We visit his special place sometimes,” Philip was oblivious to all the emotions Thomas was experiencing, “There are a lot of stones there, but we always go to one with Daddy’s picture on it and Papa cries.”

That was probably much more than Alex wanted him to know. He briefly thought of Martha and how they’d never had kids. He didn’t know how he would have explained her death to them if they had.

“I’m sorry, kiddo,” he said instead, “Must be hard with one parent, though it seems your Papa loves you very much.”

“He does,” Philip smiled widely, “He takes me to the park on Saturdays and we run around. He teaches me about all sorts of stuff, like dinos. Do you know about dinos, Mr. Thomas?”

Thomas was glad for the change of topic and nodded: “I’ve heard of them, but I don’t know much. Why don’t you tell me more about them?”

“Well, they come from eggs. I did too, did you know? Papa said he froze eggs and I came crawling out, just like a dino,” Philip told him excitedly. Thomas was confused about what on earth that could mean, but just nodded along to the kid’s babbling.

An hour later Alex stomped into his office, grumbling under his breath about what an asshat Lee was.

He stopped at the empty office, he knew Philip must be with Angelica or Washington, but with the note still there, he didn’t know which one. He went back into the hallway and saw Washington walk by. Stopping the man he said: “Perfect timing. Is Pip with you? I got called away and told him to find you or Angie.”

“No, son, he must be with Miss Schuyler,” Washington smiled, “How was it with Lee?”

“Sir, if you don’t want a verbal essay, I suggest you don’t ask,” Alex sighed tiredly. He just wanted to go home and sleep.

Washington chuckled then stepped into his office as Alex made his way over to Angelica’s office, he knocked on her door and opened it with a: “Hi, Angie, I’ll take Philip now, thanks for watching him.”

Angelica looked up from her work with confusion: “Philip? I haven’t seen Philip since lunch, Alex. What are you talking about.”

The blood in his veins turned to ice as he said: “But, he was going to you. He said he wanted to say hi. He’d be back by four, but I got called away. I left you a note. Are you sure you didn’t see him?”

“No, I wouldn’t lie about that,” Angelica said, “Why didn’t you walk with him?”

Alex was already beating himself up over it: “Fuck, I’m so stupid. I thought he would be fine, that I should let him go, be independent. I’m a terrible father and now something might have happened to Pip. God, what if he’s dead?”

“Hey, none of that, calm down, just breathe,” Angelica put her hand on his shoulder, “He probably got distracted. He’s still around, I’m sure. Someone else must have seen him.”

They got distracted by a southern voice floating down the hall: “Hamilton, there you are. I was wondering if I should start charging hours.”

“Papa!” Philip yelled excitedly, running up to his Papa, who crushed him into a tight hug with a sigh of relief.

“There you are. Pip, I was so worried. You said you were going to Auntie Angie,” he scolded the boy, “Don’t scare me like that again. I thought something had happened.”

“Sorry, Papa,” Philip sounded genuinely upset.

“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. Papa didn’t mean to make you upset, I was just worried,” after soothing his son, he turned to Thomas and glared, “Do you often kidnap children?”

Thomas looked up shocked and in an offend voice replied: “Excuse you? I didn’t kidnap him. He showed up to my office telling me he was allowed to walk around. He asked me about cats and I just made sure he was okay. You should be thanking me, it could have gone a lot worse.”

Alex eyed him suspiciously, but was distracted by Philip: “He’s right, he listened to me back at the room with the table and I was just wondering what he thought of cats, then he let me help with his presentation and read me a story and then I told him about the dinos.”

“I know we have our disagreements, Hamilton, but I’m not going to be an as- meanie to a kid,” he said.

“Nice save,” Angelica smirked.

“Oh shove off, Angelica,” Thomas rolled his eyes good-naturedly, he liked the eldest Schuyler. He had met her a long time ago, back when Martha was still there.

Alex checked over Philip one more time, before begrudgingly acknowledging that Thomas had done him a favor. So, he said: “Thank you, Jefferson. For making sure Pip was alright.”

“No worries, man. I have a lot of siblings,” Thomas shrugged.

Angelica looked between them and smirked, before saying: “Here, I’ll go grab your stuff, ‘Lex. You and Thomas make sure you’re on the same page about this. I don’t want to have you screaming because of a misunderstanding, you do it enough without them.”

Philip walked off happily with his Auntie Angie, leaving Alex and Thomas on their own.

“Did he behave well?” Alex asked, breaking the silence.

Thomas looked confused for a moment, then smirked: “Yeah, he’s a sweet boy. Certainly didn’t get that from you.”

Alex chuckled: “No, he got every good bone in his body from John,” his smile was far away and soft, before he shookhimself out of it, “I’m glad you listened to him, he’s a good kid.”

“No problem, really,” Thomas shrugged.

It was quiet for a moment.

“Can I ask why he thinks he crawled out of an egg like a dinosaur?” Thomas asked, unable to help himself. He was just too curious and it was weird for a kid to think that. He just wanted to know what an earth Alex had told the boy.

The random question startled Alex, who laughed after a second. He explained: “Kids at school were asking how he could have two dads, so I told them that I froze some of my eggs and his other Daddy made sure they would work, before Auntie Eliza hatched him. I compared it to dinosaurs because he understands them and thinks they’re cool. I guess he only picked up some parts.”

“So, he’s not related to the Schuyler's?” Thomas asked, then elaborated, “Just with the whole Auntie Angie and Auntie Eliza he was talking about, I assumed his other parent was one of their sibling hoard.”

“No,” Alex said, “He’s completely mine and Johns.”

It was quiet for a beat, then Thomas said: “I didn’t know you were trans.”

Alex shrugged: “It’s not really something I tell people, especially with how they start calling me a mother, no thanks. Besides, it’s none of their business anyway. Philip is mine and they can keep their opinions of my parenting to themselves.”

Thomas nodded: “That makes sense. For what it’s worth, you’re a great dad. Philip is lucky to have you. I know you didn’t want me to know, probably, but he told me his other dad was living with angels. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“I don’t need your pity,” Alex bit out after a hard swallow. He didn’t need Thomas treating him differently just because his husband was dead, he got that enough as it was. He missed John dearly, but he was healing and the special treatment just made it harder.

He was surprised by Thomas’s reply: “I’m not pitying you, Alex. I just wanted you to know that he told me and that you can talk to me.”

“That’s-” Alex hesitated, slightly confused, “That’s… nice? I suppose. But you’re not really my first confidant.”

“I know,” Thomas shrugged, he seemed to be preparing himself for something, “I just know how some people don’t get it and it can be annoying, so if you ever just wanna talk, please do,” he pulled out a necklace from his shirt, on it were two golden bands, “I’m not messing with you, or pitying you.”

“I didn’t know,” Alex mumbled, feeling a bit sheepish for his earlier reaction, “How- How long ago?”

“Seven years,” Thomas answered, “Martha- she was the best, but she had heart problems. I knew we didn’t have long, but it still hurt. She was just too young.”

There were tears in his eyes and Alex could feel himself tearing up as well. He said: “The better ones always die first somehow, fuck. John- John died four years ago. Wanted to do one last tour, before settling down. They were already retreating when-”

He couldn't finish the sentence, but Thomas understood. It was weird how much it made sense that Thomas understood.

They’d always been each others equal. Both in debate and passion. They knew how to push the other and got why. They were the same, just different, so of course Thomas of all people would understand.

Both stood there in silence, tears still in their eyes, but content to just stand there.

At that point Angelica came back with Philip. She was about to start a sentence when she saw the state they were in: “Jesus, are you two alright? I swear, I leave you for a few minutes and-”

“We’re fine, Angie,” Alex quickly wiped away his tears and attempted a smile.

Philip ran up to him and with his arms demanded to be carried. When Alex obliged he asked: “Are you okay, Papa?”

“Yeah, Pip, Papa’s fine,” Alex assured him, “Remember how I told you about the missing sad. It was that.”

“Like when I can’t see Sockie at school and I miss him, right?” Philip asked.

“Exactly that, Pip,” Alex agreed, “Now, what do you say about going home, buddy? Does that sound alright? We can watch Moana.”

“I love Moana!” Philip chirped.

Alex turned to Angelica and Thomas and said: “We’re gonna go. Uhm, thank you both and, uh, I might take you up on that, Thomas. Now say bye, Pip.”

“Bye Auntie Angie, bye Mr. Thomas,” Philip said with a wave, a quick yawn escaping him after all the excitement as he burrowed closer into his Papa’s arms while they walked out of the building.

When they were gone, Angelica turned to Thomas with a raised brow: “So, Mr. Thomas,” she put extra emphasis on the name, “You’ve got yourself a social upgrade.”

“Shut up, I should have never told you about that stupid crush,” Thomas hid his head in his hands.

“I think you two would be cute together,” Angelica said, then she asked: “Why were you two crying, by the way? Are you okay?”

He put the necklace back and said: “I told him about Martha, seemed fair after the kid told me about John. I didn’t know Alex was a widower, nor that he had kids.”

“Yeah, ‘Lex used to love bragging about John and Philip, but ever since-” she sighed, “Well, you know. He hasn’t been the same.”

“I don’t think anyone can stay the same after living through that,” Thomas told her, “I was always saddened I had no kids with Martha, but after today. Fuck, I don’t know what I would have told them. I don’t think I could have handled it.”

Angelica shrugged: “It’s different for everyone, I think Philip saved ‘Lex’s life. He got up each day to care for him. Don’t tell him I told you that, I will slap you again.”

“I won’t, I swear,” Thomas held his hands up in surrender and luckily Angelica believed him, because she smiled: “Good, I know where you live.”

“You are terrifying,” he informed her.

“That’s why we’re such good friends,” she merely smiled, “Now, let’s go, you still owe me dinner for giving you private time with Papa Alex.”

Thomas flushed a bright red and told her he hated her, before following her out of the building as she cackled at his misery.

After that things went back to normal.

Mostly.

Somewhere he had imagined the interaction would be some revelation or something and the next day would be completely different.

But it just wasn’t.

They had a meeting in the morning, it was the first time they saw each other that day and within minutes it had turned into an argument.

Though, perhaps the arguments had gotten less personal. They had always thrown in slight digs at the other, believing themselves to know the man before them and judging the person they’d built in their mind, but when that fell away, it was hard to make digs at someone who understood.

So work returned to normal, with arguments echoing through the halls, which were now followed by civil conversation as they walked to their offices.

It was only a month later that it changed.

You know, this fic is getting much bigger than expected and has gotten severely out of hand. It was meant to be a cute Philip at work fic, but then I thought about past John/Alex (and not fucking Eliza over bc I love her too much for it) and now it hasturnedinto a gigantic angst pile turning fluffwith a slow burn thrown in there, something I have never written before, but I’m having fun.

#RR writing #Hamilton #alexander hamilton #philip hamilton #thomas jefferson #jamilton #Hamilton AU #angelica schuyler #george washington #'Till Death Do Us Part #'Till Death Do Us Part AU #'Till Death Do Us Part Part 1

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k-writer1998 · 3 years ago

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Who Said Love Was Easy? (6/12)

There are many different kinds of people who come and go from your life. Some will stay constant and sturdy like a river, growing alongside you, others will come like a whirlwind who wreaks havoc and leaves just as quickly, then there is everything in between. In this twisted maze of connections, that is where our story begins. A steadfast boy, a girl with a past, a little bit of alcohol, mistakes, and some love. Where can you go wrong with that?

angsty fluff

w.c: 1.7k

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The first words I heard from the call were “I’m sorry,” followed by an explanation and an “I got you.” I didn’t trust those words as the only other person he could ask in this situation is the one person I didn’t want involved. I tried to argue but Jaehyung had already sent the boy my way so with a defeated sigh I went to finish getting ready. By the time I finished my makeup I had come to terms with the fact that he sent Jeongin and once the doorbell rang I put on a smile before opening up. Lo and behold there he was, fitted in some black dress pants with a matching blazer with a white tee underneath.

“Hey… Is this okay? I wasn’t sure what to wear,” he started awkwardly.

“Yeah that’s perfect, thanks for coming with me,” I lightly smile.

“Oh before I forget. Here. It’s a birthday gift and an apology for being so harsh yesterday...”

“If you’re talking about Gahyeon, I deserved it but if you mean the rooftop then I accept,” I laughed as I took the box from his hands, “all jokes aside though, you didn’t have to.”

In the adorably wrapped box were a cute little pair of cherry blossom earrings. Seeing how tense he seemed it was the perfect opportunity to pick on him, it’s not my fault he was just so full of openings. Controlling my face to hold my smile, I looked at him and carefully spoke.

“My ears aren’t pierced… ” His face flushed and he stuttered as he tried to take it back but I pulled it away with a giggle, “I’m kidding. Thank you, I love it.”

“They were just something I picked up on the way,” he mumbled, pout still resting on his lips.

“But they’re still a gift that you chose with me in mind and that alone makes me happy.”

Color made its way back to his cheeks and although I did say it for that exact reaction, I genuinely meant it. I turned over to my doorway mirror and eagerly put them on with a content smile, then we were off. That little interaction at the door knocked off a few of the nerves twisting in my stomach but not by much.

“So what’s up with your family?” Jeongin asked, his voice cutting the silence of the cab ride.

God is so cruel to me. I’ve had to watch Jeongin chase after the girl he likes while I have feelings for him and now I’m not even allowed to keep my skeletons in the closet. It’s only fair for me to tell him, since he is about to enter the wolves’ den with me. I guess we can call this an equivalent exchange for all the shit he told me when he was drunk. I leaned back in my seat and looked at him square on, here we go.

“Okay so the abridged version is that I’m my father’s illegitimate child. Due to circumstances my father took me in and his wife despised me while I was treated as a ghost by the rest of the extended family. My dad passed away a few years ago and his wife jumped at the chance to throw me out. Although I loved the thought of getting away from her hellish treatment, I was also forced to cut ties.”

“I- That’s a lot. Okay, so let me get this straight, after all that we’re now going to…”

“My dad’s wife’s house.”

“Why? Didn’t you just say she hates you?”

“Yup, you aren’t the only chaebol here. My family’s company has been having a successor battle, which my half-brother is a part of. My role tonight is to garner favor from my paternal grandmother who’s taken a liking to me.”

“Why are we even going there if they’re just using you? It’s obvious you don’t want to either.”

“I would rather not find out what would happen if I didn’t. You saw how my brother was, let’s just say that wasn’t the worst that could be done… to me or my life,” I pointed at him before adding, “Don’t even ask about this part though, this is something I’m not unpacking anytime soon.”

He raised his hand in surrender before sighing, “Isn’t that a bit much? Is this a drama or something?”

“That’s what I’m saying,” I sigh.

“And I thought my family was bad,” Jeongin mumbled but my ear perked up at this.

“Tell me about them.”

“Huh?”

“Your family, tell me about them… it’s only fair right?” I tried to coax.

I remember Gahyeon talking about his dad’s company and although I asked him about joining it, I wasn’t even sure what that meant. Now that I think about it he’s never spoken about his family from what I’m aware of… Look at that we actually have something in common, albeit family problems but that still uhm… counts?

“I don’t know…”

“I mean you’ve already told me your love issues when we first met, but I won’t force you. How about instead, one sentence with no context.”

“You keep telling me about how we first met but I really can’t remember, can’t you just tell me?”

“I mean I can… but not yet, the ambiance has to be right,” I joked.

“Fine. I’m the estranged son of a CEO from his first marriage.”

“I- Okay maybe I overestimated my curiosity control but a deal is a deal. I won’t ask anything.”

Not like I had a chance to anyways, the taxi driver pulled up to the house and I readied my mind for the uphill battle ahead. False pleasantries were exchanged before dinner was served and everyone started chatting while I silently played with my food. From across the table I felt a menacing aura and dared not look up from my plate. I knew who and what she wanted me to do but it’s hard to put on an act when it’s hard to breathe, unhappy memories resurfacing and unhelpfully flashing through my mind. It wasn’t until I felt a knee bump against my own did I realize that although my brain was going through the past, the present was still moving on. Looking up at the culprit, Jeongin was answering one of grandma’s questions with a smile. I’m not alone this time. I smiled and started to participate in the conversation with grandma and Jeongin when suddenly step-mother cleared her throat and her kids seemed to take the hint.

“So y/n how is the freelance work going for you? You’re taking care of yourself and not over working right?”

“Yes… mother… work’s been steady and I’m caring for myself properly.”

“That’s good, I wish I could say the same for Youngho, he works too hard but it is for his father’s legacy after,” she cooed and cautiously glanced at grandma.

“But y/n you look thinner than the last time I saw you, make sure you eat up,” grandma added but the nerves had long destroyed any appetite I had going into this so I just smiled and nodded.

“Unnie, who is this again? Is there a reason he came? Not that I’m complaining,” Younghee said as she gave a flirty smile to Jeongin who awkwardly looked anywhere but her.

“He’s a friend from college. We had plans and it would’ve been rude to cancel,” I lied.

“Really? He seemed like more when I saw you two the other day.”

“I think anyone would have a similar reaction running into a situation like that,” Jeongin added, his motions pausing and his facade faltering at Youngho’s nonchalant tone.

"Exactly so just drop it, it's none of your business anyways."

“You’re such a secretive one, y/n. Sometimes I wish you were like how you were when we were kids, cutely following me around and doing what I asked.”

“Well Youngho-oppa we all had to grow up and see the reality behind the fairy tales.”

“But everyone should know their place in the story, don't you think? How embarrassing would it be to think you're the damsel when really you're just a side character?" Younghee bit back.

"Everyone is the main character in their own story so why would it be embarrassing?" Jeongin countered.

"What a beautiful sentiment, so encouraging yet naive. When you get older you'll learn that everything is all part of a bigger picture."

I glared at Youngho who was smirking happily. That obnoxious prick, why the hell is he provoking me when he wants my help? Even the golden customer service boy over here is having a hard time keeping up his face. What's he so worked up for, because he isn’t the type to bicker back like this and I'd be stupid to think that it's one hundred percent for my sake. Regardless, I could feel the irritation rolling off my step-mother so it was my turn to calm Jeongin as I tugged at his blazer from under the table.

"Well in the end everyone gets what they deserve because that’s life," I stated.

“You kids have such a roundabout way of talking nowadays this old lady can’t keep up,” grandma laughed and so did everyone else.

“Speaking of life, yours’ seems to be busy right Youngho-oppa?”

I forced a smile and felt a tinge of relief wash over me as he eagerly took the bait to talk about his work at the company. The rest of dinner was Jeongin saving me from even more trouble than I already was, for the earlier banter, as I danced between wanting to blow up and getting lost in the past. They tried to convince grandma to stay later to chat, she was tired and excused herself for the night. As we saw her to the door she pulled me into a hug before whispering into my ear.

“You’ve grown up well and I’m happy you have good people around you.” She pulled away and held something in my hand with both of hers before saying, “Happy Birthday dear.”

As she said that her eyes darted to Jeongin and I was glad my back was toward him. I made a face at grandma who only smiled knowingly at me before my family jumped at the chance to talk highly of themselves to her till the very end. I placed the gift, which was most likely money, into my purse and steeled my nerves for what will come after grandma walks out that door.

#stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids au #skz #skz imagines #skz au #yang jeongin #jeongin imagines #jeongin au #server! jeongin x regular! y/n #my writing #wslwe?

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vanaera · 5 years ago

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The Heart Holiday | Act 1 | myg

Synopsis: Valentine’s Day is declared as an official holiday. However, private companies’ standards dictate it’s only for the people who are currently in a relationship. Unluckily for Y/N, she doesn’t have this year’s PRS’ (Proof of Relationship Status) “in a relationship” box ticked – the only ticket out she can have to enjoy one paid week of holiday leave away from her hellish job. And more unfortunately for Y/N, everyone around her is oh so conveniently currently committed in a relationship. Except for one person: Min Yoongi, Y/N’s biggest critic in every pitch meeting, the picky guy who always picks on her, and the most annoying jerk of the century. Desperate for that holiday leave, Y/N strikes Yoongi up with an offer: Fake date each other two weeks before February 14, just enough time for the Department of Relationship Management (DRM) to consider processing your PRSs. After Valentine’s Day, they will go back to their own ways and never speak about whatever that may happen during the plan. Good, plain, and simple. That is until, Yoongi uncharacteristically oh so enthusiastically agrees to Y/N’s offer, leaving her thinking that she may have bitten something too much more than she can chew.

Characters: Yoongi x Female Reader

AU/ Trope: Office AU (Creatives manager!yoongi x PA!reader), enemies to lovers, fake dating

Genre: fluff, angst, comedy (the triple t(h)reat)

Wordcount: 11, 798

Warnings: Lots of curses from two emotionally-constipated characters (PG-15 Rating)

A/N | This fic is in part with FWL’s Valentine’s project, The Luv Library: Romance. I had this premise about a Valentine’s holiday for a while and finally, I got to use it for this fic.

next | series masterlist

Ten seconds are enough to look at Min Yoongi. Two seconds to look at his unkempt, unprofessional, and stupid fringes that nonsensically cover his already small eyes. Three to look at his stupid, smug smile. Another two for his overly-confident stance—leaned forward in his chair, elbows on the table, hands clasping together—as if he’s better and of higher power than anyone else around the room when he’s just a measly representative of the day for the Creatives Team. And the last three seconds—they are enough to look at his mocking eyes, his jeering gaze, and the arrogant quirk of his brow.

This is the same look he gave to Y/N when he got promoted ahead of her. This is the same look he flashed to Y/N when he berated every word choice in her reports. And, this is the same look in his face when he ruined her presentation which could have been her ticket way out from this hellish job. Smug, arrogant, and proud, Min Yoongi is set to ruin Y/N’s life. And all Y/N could do now is glare at him and hope her eyes could set him on fire so it will be easy for hell to swallow him up and—

“Y/N?”

Y/N whips her head to her right, “S-sorry?”

Nancy Kim clicks her tongue, “Why are you just standing there, glaring at the windows? I told you to distribute the copies among the room.”

“R-right,” Y/N gulps and rushes forward. She hands the copies of last month’s Travel Loca issues among the representative of each department. Gracie from the Marketing Team sneaks her a small smile, which Y/N returns. However, that smile falls into a frown when she reaches the devil himself.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Min Yoongi greets, chin rested on his palm. When Y/N doesn’t greet back, Yoongi takes it upon himself to wink at her. With a huff, Y/N slams down the copy on the table in front of him, enough for the glossy, firm cover page to hit his pile of notes and cause some pages to fly off the table.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Nancy calls out, sighing. She waves away at Y/N and the latter takes it as a cue to sit back on her chair. Nancy leans back in her huge black chair, “Okay, let’s get the ball rolling. Now tell me something I don’t know.”

Y/N seats herself on the chair by the corner of the room, behind Nancy’s chair, far from the round meeting table. Every team representative starts to report their progress last month and their suggestions for the next, next month’s issue. Meanwhile, Min Yoongi is still busy picking up his notes on the floor. When he’s gathered them back, now in a sloppy stack, he looks from his crouched position and flashes Y/N his middle finger. She flashes back a finger at him, grinning. Y/N looks down at her small pocket notebook.

“Y/N – 1. Yoongi – 0.”

So far, this morning is really good.

Y/N hates Min Yoongi, and this is beyond an understatement. She hates him so much that the word “hate” started to become insufficient to describe her tantamount distaste for that man. Y/N blames his last name for that. “Min” should not be how his last name spelled. It should be M-E-A-N because that man is beyond mean.

When Y/N first met Yoongi, she knew there’s something off with him. He stands so arrogantly, so prideful as if he deserved every bit of the floor space of Travel Loca’s Main Office when he just got hired because there’s no other job-seeker that has actually applied. Yoongi looks at other people as if he’s any much greater than them. Lazy eyes, far-off gaze, indifferent façade—he just looks at you as if he’s listening when he’s actually just hearing so he can make some witty comeback. And Yoongi talks like a dictator know-it-all. He corrects every word people say here and there, like “Y/N, are you sure it’s ‘demonstrate,’ not ‘visualize’? We can’t physically see something if there’s nothing to see,” or “Y/N, you shouldn’t say ‘Xerox.’ It should be ‘photocopy.’ Xerox is just a brand, our junior high teacher told us so,” as if every word anyone says but him, will always be wrong. Yoongi talks as if no one but him will always be right and that everything around him does not deserve a bit of his attention unless they prove their worth to him.

And it frustrates Y/N to no end that no one seems to see his real form but her. Because apparently, Yoongi is “amazing.” Yoongi knows a lot of foreign places, having traveled to Malta, New Zealand, Hawaii, and yaddah yaddah, making his first-hand knowledge essential to the Writing Department. Yoongi has a lot of expertise in various editing apps, and he’s willing to teach the tricks and nicks to it to anybody. Anybody but Y/N. Because behind closed doors, Y/N knows his true face: Min Yoongi is a thick-skinned, double-faced bitch. That even if his name is on the tip of the tongue of anyone around the office every single morning, his quick promotion as manager of the Creatives Team a never-ending topic starter, Y/N knew the real story. Because Min Yoongi started out as Nancy’s Personal Assistant…just like Y/N.

Nancy Kim is the best photojournalist in the history of travel magazines. God-tier even, because when Nancy is just an intern in The Traveler’s Foot, she wrote the best articles Y/N has ever read. It didn’t matter if they were about a cliché tourist spot that has been featured over and over again or something bizarre that could make anyone wonder someone in their right mind would actually go there. Nancy is the goddess of travel journaling and Y/N obsessively consumed every article she wrote during her entire senior high and college life. So, to be able to get accepted in a company Nancy built, as Nancy’s personal assistant, is a sweet as fuck dream come true. Y/N didn’t care if she has to go home by 12 A.M. or 1 A.M. as Nancy said PA’s always have to leave the office after their bosses left. Nancy just shows the dedication to work one must have. Y/N didn’t find it tiresome when Nancy has to send her back-and-forth for errands both for work and personal life. She’s learning how to be resourceful while being good at time-management all at the same time. She’s learned a lot from Nancy. So, seeing Min Yoongi be so lax at work after getting hired frayed Y/N’s nerves to no end.

Yoongi doesn’t keep a tab on Nancy’s schedules just like Y/N does. He says there’s no reason for such rush to keep every event on track because Nancy will just cancel or push forward them anyway. It’s true, Nancy does sometimes mess up the week calendar Y/N arranged for her, but still, not tabbing anything on your work diary is still an evident proof Yoongi slacks of. He even takes a nap in between work hours for God’s sake. Yoongi also likes to talk behind Nancy’s back: of how inconveniencing, overbearing, and unnecessarily over-the line abuser she is as a boss. He tells this to Y/N day in and day out. Yoongi even mocked Y/N’s work ethic as a “willing subservience to work slavery.” He mercilessly reduced her dedication to work as blind obedience to an authority for the sake of monthly paychecks instead of hard, honest efforts to learn the essential skills in travel journalism.

And, it’s not a miracle no one finds out about this. Because when Yoongi is indeed caught, he finds one loophole in his and Y/N’s dynamic as co-PA’s for Nancy and implicitly, oh so subtly, turns it around against Y/N. Y/N remembers one time when Nancy berated them two for not inserting her friend Rosa’s son’s first birthday party into the 6 PM slot of one Monday in March. After her long sermon, Yoongi apologized for not encoding it into Nancy’s Schedule Work Sheet. Y/N handles Nancy’s Schedule Work Sheet, not Yoongi. Nancy knows this. So, after her 9-12 shift that same Tuesday, Nancy reminded Y/N of her replaceability in Travel Loca during one of the most tension-filled elevator rides in her life. She went home to her flatmate, Mina, in tears which did not permit her to get an ounce of sleep. Y/N turns up the next day at work, red eyes and red nose close to make Rudolph the reindeer run for his title, only to know from the call logs that Yoongi did not receive Rosa’s call because he was sleeping when Y/N outright told him to take over the phone because she needed a bathroom break.

Min Yoongi is mean and Y/N has seen the last straw of her respectful tolerance to people ticked off by this insufferable man one cursed Thursday night of September.

Thursdays are horrible. It is always assured to be the worst day Y/N will have in a week. Either an investor will change their mind about a deal with Travel Loca, or Nancy will lash out at her because of stress from stupid shenanigans of her rebellious teenage daughter—Thursdays always have it out for Y/N. Y/N can already tell this so when Nancy called for her at 10:30 P.M. to give her a run-down of her schedule for the weekends and the upcoming week. It is already an established routine that Nancy will have Y/N over to her office to give a schedule report at any time of the day. It’s just happened this day that Yoongi took a leave and Y/N shouldered every task to be done, easily wearing her out in the afternoon.

Y/N is close to crying right now because of exhaustion and it does not help that Nancy is wearing a sour face. She does not even look up at Y/N from her laptop when she said, “Tell me this week’s schedule.”

Y/N pulls up her notebook and traces her pen over her notes, “Tomorrow you have an 11 AM meeting with investors from VanTae Apparels. At 1 PM you will have an online meeting with our overseas partners, JM Restaurant Group. We also have to submit the Kim Yuna special feature by 2 PM and at 3 we have the Travel with RM to interview. And–”

“Push the Travel with RM to 2. We’re holding the Yuna feature ‘til next week because Jennie is writing as if she’s still in college.” Nancy presses a hand over her forehead and huffs, “The Writing Department has been consecutively disappointing me with boring, generic articles. Are fresh pieces non-existent nowadays?!”

Y/N looks up, eyes wide, hands sweaty.

Nancy turns back to her laptop, “What else is on my sched?”

“Um, O-on Saturday 4 PM, you are invited to your friend’s, Rica’s baby shower, and for 5, you are invited to Jungsoo’s son’s 1st birthday party. Then Sunday 2 PM is Hana’s sister’s daughter’s 1st birthday party. You are also invited to Nick and Ken’s wedding on Friday and–”

Nancy clicks her tongue, “Cancel them all. I have no time for these parties and meaningless chit-chats that always have these housewives bragging how great their husbands are or their children’s stupid what-nots.”

Y/N nods and slashes through her notes, “Okay.”

“So send them my apologies and give them a $300 gift instead.

“Okay, ma’am.”

Nancy turns her swivel chair to face her, “Did you get my daughter the unpublished sequel of The Swallowing?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Y/N smiles, recalling her last week’s adventure and success. Maybe Nancy’s mood will lighten up if she knew how she accomplished such an impossible task. “I got to grab a copy after weeks of talking with R. Lewis’ manager. Luckily, R. Lewis caught wind that it’s for your daughter. So he agreed to give me the copy. I actually have it right now, let me go back to my table –”

“You don’t have to. Suzie changed her mind. She doesn’t like The Swallowing anymore. Return the copy and get her the unpublished sequel instead of Bird and Foe.”

Y/N’s jaw nearly falls as she stammers, “S-sure, no problem.” Deep inside, Y/N cannot help but think to herself, “Yes, Nancy may be fickle-minded and forgetful of differences in company protocols that intervene with such transactions, but she cannot just disregard my hard work! All the money in my train tickets and brain cells have gone all in the drain for nothing—Okay, calm down, Y/N, this is Nancy. Nancy can help you to write the best articles in no time. This is just training for the real deal—

“Y/N, did you hear me?”

“S-sorry, what?”

“I said, where’s the USB I told you to get from my laptop at our home? I need the files for the JM Restaurant Group.”

Oh shit. The USB. Y/N told Yoongi to get it since he lived nearer to Nancy’s residence in West Street than her. And since, Yoongi’s on leave, the USB is—!

“And first thing in the morning, I want you to go to the Writing Department to get some fresh stories. I do not want to personally see them or else I will be able to fire one whole department in a day.”

At this, Y/N fiddles with her fingers. “Umm, I think I have a story.”

Nancy quirks her brow.

Y/N wrings her hands behind her back. “I-it’s not yet polished and I still have more to cover on–”

“So, you’re already telling me it’s bad before you even pitch a formal proposal –”

Y/N’s eyes widen and she rushes to Nancy. “No! I-it’s about the Write and Backpack Trip Club. The-they’re a club of unpublished writers, usually late 30s, who met on Facebook and decide to travel together to the countries or places their stories are supposed to take place.” Nancy tilts her head and Y/N picks up her tone. Her hands start to quiver with her voice as she says, “People think—people think it’s hopeless. Like, like, they’re wasting their lives on something so trivial instead of focusing on their jobs. But this club gave them a purpose to still reach for their dreams even when people tell them it’s already too late. And I just,” Y/N wipes a stray tear on her cheek–which she doesn’t know if it’s because of her attachment to the club, Nancy’s new orders, or her frustration at Yoongi for leaving all their responsibilities on her–but she sucks them up and breathes out, “I find it really inspiring to have the courage to seek out your purpose when everything in the world is against you.”

Nancy stares at her, brows furrowed. Another drop of tear falls from Y/N’s eyes. Nancy fixes her eyes back on her laptop. “The USB, Y/N, I need it now. A.S.A.P., capiche.”

Wiping her cheeks again, Y/N nods, “Ye-yeah, capiche.”

Y/N could not remember any time she’s rushed out the office as fast as now. Yoongi’s cell is out of reach and nothing is present in Y/N’s mind but to just run out of the building. She needs to clear her mind. She has to think of a solution. She can’t go back to Nancy empty-handed. Nancy’s already unimpressed of her sloppy work for this day, much more at her uncalled emotional breakdown in her office. She will definitely get fired for sure this time.

The cold dry wind hits Y/N’s face the moment she pushes past the large glass doors of the Rockfort Building. The night sky has blackened into dark indigo and the establishments that dot the neighboring grounds of the building have blurred into monotonous dim shops. With just their solar lights left on, the rest of the complex looked like a washed-out commercial center. The only thing that stands out has to be the small mango tree just a meter away from her—the center-piece and quite the only humanizing element of the harsh Rockfort Complex.

Okay, this is great. Y/N always tend to get the best ideas and solutions when she’s standing near this tree. She proved this twice. First, when Nancy demanded her to re-do all their presentations for VanTae Apparel. Y/N managed to slay it by getting inspired by the mangoes and editing the templates to look like nature’s rendition of Van Gogh’s starry night, which happened to be the favorite painting of VanTae’s CEO. And second, when Yoongi messed up Y/N’s schedules for Nancy’s personal events by misnaming each invitation, this mango tree provided her peace to quickly fix everything up before Nancy gets to the office.

Put your thinking cap on, Y/N. What should you do? Should you rush to Nancy’s house now? Oh no, maybe Yoongi already got the USB. Should you go then to Yoongi’s house? Shit, I don’t know his house address—

“Here’s $25, sir. Thank you!”

Y/N freezes. It can’t be.

Y/N turns to her right only for her eyes to land on a man with a familiar jet black mop of hair, standing about two meters before her, talking with a blue-vested delivery man.

No. No. No. NO. Min Yoongi cannot just swoop out of nowhere and sound so chirpy like that while I have to stress over a problem that I DID NOT create. I cannot get fired in a company I’ve spent my life on for two years just because of this man’s unreasonable incompetence!

Fueled by the purest form of aggravation, Y/N stomps ahead and brushes Yoongi’s shoulder, making him turn back to her.

“Oh, hi, Y/N.”

“‘Hi?!’ ‘Hi,’ yourself, Min Yoongi!—"

“Oh my God,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, “she’s Adolf Hitler again.”

“Adolf Hitler?!” Y/N scoffs, “Say it for yourself, Min! You’re Hitler because you’re twisted enough to ruin my career because doing shit in yours is not enough. Where’s Nancy’s USB?!”

“If you’re going to talk about work again, I gotta leave. If you didn’t know, a ‘leave’ is a leave.” He emphasizes the last syllable as he starts to walk toward the street.

Letting common sense knock into her, Y/N momentarily disregards her pride and runs after him. When he rounds the corner of a clothing boutique, she slips by his side and places herself in the middle of the sidewalk, blocking him.

Unlike his usual work attire, Yoongi is clad in a black hoodie and denim ripped jeans, an ensemble that remarkably turned to look horrible in 0.5 seconds just because he’s wearing it. Y/N deduces it’s just Yoongi ruining fashion because he 24/7 looks like an asshole.

“What, are you just gonna stare at me?”

Yoongi’s voice brings Y/N back to her purpose. “No, I’m here to tell you, you forgot to do your job—Nancy wants her USB for JM Restaurant Group right now.”

“Well, I don’t have it, sweetheart. Work hours are already over so practically, I’m in no responsibility to do whatever the fuck Nancy wants,” the man quips back, smiling.

Y/N cannot help but snap. “Why are you even here in Rockfort, then? You didn’t turn up for work and now you’re just casually strolling in front of our building. You didn’t take home at least a quarter of our tasks and dumped everything on my shoulders like an irresponsible, signature free-loader high school groupmate. And now you think it’s okay to tell me ‘sorry, I don’t have the USB’ when I told you yesterday to bring it today?! I cannot believe what an asshole you can be, Yoongi.”

Yoongi raises a hand. “Okay, chill, tiger. To answer your question, I am here because my friends and I hung out at a bar near here. Not that you will understand, of course, considering your whole life revolves around work, work, and work. Ooh, and Nancy,” Yoongi grins. “How can I forget you idolize Nancy? Actually no, you worship her.”

Y/N’s face falls into an indignant scowl, “I do NOT worship Nancy! I respect her. Which you also should do because she employed you, not the other way around. Also, I have friends! Mina is my friend!”

“Correction, Mina is your only friend at work. And she happened to be your flatmate and college buddy first before you both had luck to also be co-workers. So no, your friendship with Mina is out of the equation.”

Y/N opens her mouth to tell him Mina cannot be out of the equation when Yoongi beats her, “And second, how could I be a free-loader? A leave is a leave. Our job description did not say we should also take work home. You are the only one who does that because you’re paranoid. So don’t impose your so-called work ethic, that is actually masked obsession, to me because I am a mentally healthy person. I don’t want to have a stick in my ass like you do.”

Y/N steps closer to Yoongi, making the latter cock a brow at her. “I’m not paranoid, Min. It’s you who is the problem. You don’t take this job seriously. You don’t take on responsibilities like a mature adult. You think you’re so great just because no one told you you suck at something when you were a kid. Well, let me tell you now. You suck at plain human decency, something that should be innate in every people. You’re so high up your ass you think you can just do anything and get away with it and you–”

“If you’re just going to insult me, can you do that tomorrow? My food is getting cold.”

Oh no. Nancy’s USB. Y/N closes her eyes and releases a long sigh. She thinks her eyes already did a 360 by the time she managed to fix her composure. She looks up at the man in front of her, currently giving her an amused look. Y/N’s voice cracks as she says, “Yoongi…This is the only time I will ask a favor from you. Please help me with Nancy’s USB. I just want to end this night and go home peacefully without her chewing my head off further more. So please, please, please, can you just help me for once?”

“Hmm,” Yoongi scratches his chin, “let me think about it first.”

“Yoongi, please!”

“Okay, fine,” Yoongi grimaces, “considering you practically begged to me for dear life, I, as a human with pure soul will help you out despite all the shits you said to me—”

“Just help me out!”

Yoongi slaps your reaching hands, “Stop, I’m not yet done with my speech. Anyway, considering this as a favor, not a request, I expect a return of favor, too.”

“Sure, fine, anything!”

“Okay, I think I may or may not have slipped in Nancy’s USB in my bag,” Yoongi breathes out as he reaches for his black satchel. “Oh yeah, I totally have it,” he says, flashing the orange 32 GB USB in front of you.

What the fuck. All this time-!

“Why didn’t you tell me you already have the USB?!”

Yoongi nearly guffaws, “Didn’t I tell you a “leave” is a leave? Wait, oh my god, you should see yourself, sweetheart. You’re about to pop a vein.”

“Min Yoongi, I fucking hate you!” Y/N snatches the USB from Yoongi’s hand and stomps back to the direction of the Rockfort Building. The man doesn’t seem to go on his own way though because Y/N hears him holler “Same sentiment too, Y/N!”

Y/N doesn’t turn back. She just raises a middle finger up that she’s sure Yoongi will not miss. And he did not, for the man’s faint chuckles only continued.

The travel back up to the 12th floor seems like the longest elevator ride Y/N has ever been on. Every additional second into the constricted metal box feels like a one-second deduction from her own lifetime. So when the elevator doors open to Travel Loca’s floor, the air is immediately knocked off Y/N lungs. But not because of relief. Nancy stands in front of her, bags in hand, and obviously upset.

Y/N quickly steps out of the lift. “Nancy, here! The USB!”

“You took too long. Just e-mail them to me. I have to cram-reading them in the morning anyway because a certain someone forgot to do their job.” Nancy brushes by her shoulder and steps into the elevator. “You know, Y/N, if I’m paying you to make my life easier for me and instead, you’re making it harder, your position in this company is useless.” Nancy presses the button for the parking lot. The doors close in front of Y/N, letting her see the disappointment on Nancy’s face for the last second of the night.

Y/N goes home twenty minutes later, worn out, and ready to sleep the second she reaches her floor. But when she opens the door, Mina’s smiling face greets her, and she immediately rushes to the sofa next to her bestfriend.

“Mina, oh my god, I have so much to tell you.”

“Me, too!” Mina giggles, wrapping her arms around Y/N’s arms, “Can I go first though?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Y/N smiles, fixing her seat.

“Well, remember last week when I told you I finally confessed to Mark?”

“Mark, as in, the café barista Mark Tuan?”

Mina jokingly hits Y/N’s arm, “Yes, what Mark would I be talking about?”

“Sorry, you know how I get so spaced out when I’m tired and groggy. Anyway, what happened?”

“Well, Mark finally said yes!” Mina bursts into a wide grin, arms outstretched in joy. “I finally get to date Mark!”

“Oh my god, I’m so happy for you, Nana,” Y/N engulfs Mina into an embrace, “I can’t believe you’re finally in a relationship! I mean, who would not want to date you? You’re smart, pretty, and funny. The boys have missed out on you for seven long years. And now, there’s finally someone who has eyes and can see what a gem you are. And damn right, Mark would see that. It’s not every day he can have a gorgeous girl court him for six months after getting rejected twice.”

“Oh my god, stop bringing that up!” Mina playfully slaps her back and Y/N chortles.

“Okay, okay, I’m just joking. What I really mean is: Mark is a lucky guy. I’m glad he finally realized what an idiot he will be if he rejects you again for the third time when you’ve been with him through all his problems. He won’t find another beautiful girl willing to ride his motorcycle with him in a huge-ass dress just to help him deliver orders in time. You’re the total package Mina and I’m so happy Mark has realized it.”

“Oh, Y/N, you’re making me blush,” Mina laughs. She sways the both of them in their hug, “Mark has an impossibly high standard to meet now because of you.”

“Mark doesn’t have to meet any standards,” Y/N snickers, “You already drool at his face the moment we enter The Daily Bean.”

Mina detaches herself from Y/N and dramatically places a hand over her chest. “How can you remember that so well and not who Mark is?”

Y/N shrugs, “Because I’m not staring at Mark and eye-fucking him 24/7.”

“Oh my god, I do not!” Mina giggles, making you laugh again as she hugs you tight once more. Mina’s fingers card through your hair as she murmurs “But you do know, Y/N, even if I’m in a relationship now, I’m not gonna leave you alone. Even if Mark will start to occupy the top priority in my life, it doesn’t mean you will lose your spot in the top-pest part of my list. You know you’re still and will forever be my number one, right?” Y/N hums at that, closing her eyes from the head massage Mina is currently giving her. She feels Mina nod, “Right, you should because you’re practically my baby.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are! Who would wash the red stain on your pants and underpants in the girl’s CR while you prance around the cubicle only in a top because you bled through your bottoms during your period, much more, on our Christmas Party, other than me?”

Y/N grimaces, “Oh god, you didn’t have to bring that up.”

“You hit right through me when you said I eye-fuck Mark so yeah, eye for an eye, bitch,” Mina cackles as she finally unlatches her arms around her friend. “Anyway, I’m finished with my story of the day. Your turn. What happened tonight?”

Y/N bites her lip, unconsciously easing an inch between her and her bestfriend. Mina is in a good mood today. Y/N doesn’t want to ruin it by ranting off about how horrible Yoongi is again. She knows Mina. She will listen to her rant about another bullshit done by her co-PA and she will also indulge in an insult-fest against the man. That’s just their dynamic: Y/N’s enemy is Mina’s enemy and vice versa. So as Y/N looks at Mina’s smile which doesn’t do much covering up her dark eyes, which have grown from staying up late to wait for her to come home for multiple nights on end, Y/N decides it’s enough negativity for the day.

“It’s nothing, Mina,” Y/N shakes her head, forcing a smile on her face, “just another tiring day from work.”

Mina tilts her head, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Y/N flashes her another smile as she heads for her room, “I’m totally fine. Just tired. Congratulations to you and Mark again.”

“Yeah, thank you,” Mina replies, but the look on her face tells Y/N she’s unconvinced of what she said. Seemingly aware that her friend needed space, Mina turns back the TV. Before Y/N closes her door, she hears Mina chuckle to a punch-line in the airing sitcom.

Y/N flops on her bed face down. If Yoongi didn’t put much of a fight and just handed her Nancy’s USB when he knew he already had it, then maybe this night won’t be so horrible. Y/N would have given Nancy her USB in time, and her boss could have acknowledged it as a peace offering to her unremarkable work performance that day. Y/N would have totally rejoiced with Mina with her full heart into it and not force a smile on her face when such an announcement deserves much more celebration.

Y/N releases a stifled scream into her pillow. Thursdays are really the worst and it’s all Min Yoongi’s fault.

However, what Y/N didn’t expect is that the following week will get much worse. The Writing Department is late in their deadline, causing the online publication of the September issue to be pushed in the first week of October, a big deal late to the releases of their magazine competitors. Thus, Nancy became more pissy and naggy, giving Y/N a cold shoulder for the longest streak in her work life. Nancy became more frigid when Y/N failed to get Nancy the copy of the unpublished sequel of Bird and Foe. Y/N tried her best, she really did. It’s just that the publishers of Russell Park refused to give another copy because they said they cannot give out two unpublished copies at the same time. Of course, this turned out as a lazy excuse to Nancy, making her dump additional workload on Y/N’s already staggering pile. But that was not what made Y/N’s last week of September the worst week she’s ever had. It was Min Yoongi getting promoted as a staff member to the Creatives Team after giving Nancy the unpublished Bird and Foe sequel.

Ringing phones, staff members running to- and fro- the beige faux wood office floor, and the occasional requests for coffee from the break room–Travel Loca is buzzing with life as usual. But not for long though, because the clock hands are currently on 12:49 P.M. At 12:57, it seems everyone on the floor have gone silent. Almost everyone taps their foot against the floor. All eyes were set on the digital wall clock. Some have even glanced on their own wristwatches to check if the wall clock was right. The hands start to move. Everyone gulps.

The hands hit one o’clock. Everyone scrambles off their swivel chairs. Some have bee-lined for the break room. Meanwhile, a huge mass had created a bottle-neck of office workers at Travel Loca’s main door. No one is left on the staff chairs, except for one: Mina Young.

The accountant slides her swivel chair to the left. Her hands meander through her large file cases and when she feels a cold, ribbed metal surface on her index, she smiles. Mina pushes the on-button and immediately, the then-silent office space has now become a replica of her own flat.

“Good morning everyone! Today seems an extra sweet day than yesterday because you know what? I can smell and see the sweet aroma of those dark, chewy chocolates and those pretty pink balloons surrounding our streets. That’s right folks, Valentine’s Day is just around the corner! Which also means–drumroll for me, Alexa–Holidays are about to sweep in! It’s just three weeks to go, folks, note that! So, for our dear, sweet listeners, I hope you already got your hotels booked and your plane tickets ready so you can finally have that amazing buffet, relaxing spa, or a fun tour around places you’ve never been with your very lovable significant others! I’m sure all of you will have that wonderful, exciting, and pleasurable rendezvous away from school, work, and any responsibilities. Just make sure to channel in on our station if you want the best playlist to get you in the mood for some steamy, passionate, and intimate time–”

“Mina, will you turn off that radio?”

The short-haired brunette frowns at her friend, whose also frowning at her. Mina pushes up her glasses on her nose, “Why? You know I always listen to this station during break time. Plus, Nancy is not here.”

“Still, it doesn’t excuse how irritating that DJ sounds.” Y/N rolls her eyes as she plops herself on another swivel chair. “His voice sounds like there are two styrofoams gyrating each other in a sweaty club.”

Mina’s jaw drops as she turns off her portable mini-radio on her desk. She faces Y/N with a frown this time—actually a scowl now. “Kim Seokjin’s voice is like creamy velvet to the ears! Also,” she scrunches her nose in disgust, “you did not just sexualize non-living objects so casually as if you’re not aware that the mental image you’re painting is so disturbing.”

“First off,” Y/N turns to her, swivel chair squeaking in her abrupt movement, “you’re already seeing Mark Tuan for you to have any weird fantasies about Kim Seokjin and his voice or how cute his laugh is when it literally sounds like he’s an old man dying on a choked-out old joke. And second, sexualizing objects is not illegal by law and even if it so, I did NOT sexualize them. They are just the perfect representation of how Seokjin’s voice sounds.”

Mina purses her lips and props her elbow on her desk to cup her face. “Cut to the point, Y/N. Just tell me what is with you today. You barged in furious in here for no reason, threw a fit at the break room, and now you’re ruining lunch by insulting Seokjin for something so trivial.”

“Trivial?! His voice is fucking irritating! Just because he’s handsome does not mean his voice will also sound good on the radio. It’s like listening to a whale dying while making mating calls–”

“The point, Y/N?” Mina cuts you with an unamused look.

You deflate in your seat. “Fine, it’s Min Yoongi. He made it a point that he is more intelligent and capable than me in our 10 AM meeting with Nancy for this month’s spread. Said he knows more about weird facts and trivia about Sweden because I never got to travel outside this fucking country when I damn well know he only uses some advanced search engine to look for info like the computer whiz that he is! I went so many times on his Facebook to know he posts nothing in his wall but his work achievements—and his dog! Of course, if you went outside the country, you will post pictures in your wall, ‘cus social media sites are just platforms masked as an outlet for free expression when we damn well know it’s just a place where you can brag and be not called out for being arrogant. And damn hell, Min Yoongi does not have any out-of-the-country pictures posted there. What only comes close is his picture of that gumbo he said he made—yeah, quotation marks—because it looks too good to be made by his ugly crooked hands and even if it’s got this aesthetic background not expected to come from this fucking country, I still think he just photoshopped it.” Y/N crosses her arms, “Bet that gumbo did not even taste good.”

Mina scrunches her forehead, “Are you the only flawed person Min Yoongi sees? Why does he always have to nitpick every single bit of your work? He just criticized your last week’s report because of your ‘poor articulation.’”

“Right?!” Y/N leans back on her chair. She groans, “I still remember how he sabotaged my files for Nancy’s professional and personal events. Who in their right mind would change the contact names to mythical creatures? Rica’s 2nd baby shower was named ‘Merlin’s Demon Baby’s Party?’ It’s a baby event for God’s sake!” Y/N looks at her friend, “I swear Mina, one day I will get a brain hemorrhage because of Yoongi’s shits.”

Mina winces, “Please don’t. I don’t want to be the one to tell your mother you already died before you even managed to pay your housing loans.”

“Hey! Don’t attack me like that,” Y/N slaps the back of her friend’s chair. Mina, choking on her spit first, erupts into a fit of giggles.

Unfortunately, it seems lunch’s fun will be cut short as Y/N hears Nancy’s megaphone’s speaker start up, “Calling for Y/N to come into my office. A.S.A.P!”

Y/N scrambles from her seat as Mina sees her off with a sad wave. Pushing through Nancy’s glass door, Y/N could see the lines of ridges forming on Nancy’s forehead before the latter can even eye her.

“Y-yes, Ma’am? You called for me?”

Nancy pins her a look, “You’re asking me if I called you? Are you deaf? Did you not understand what I said?”

“Yes!—I-I mean on the understanding part, yes, not about being deaf or something hehe-“

“Y/N,” Nancy clasps her hands on her table, “I called you here because I have something important to tell you.”

Y/N nears her table, pulling up her notebook and pen.

“I need you to work in the Creatives Department for the next two weeks.”

Y/N’s fingers freeze. She looks up at Nancy with eyes as wide as a goldfish. And before she can brain-filter out her words, they’ve already escaped her mouth. “What do you mean I have to be in the Creatives next week? I’m your personal assistant, not Min Yoongi’s!”

“Y/N, I didn’t say you will work for Yoongi. He’s not the head of the Creatives. Steven Spielberg is,” Nancy gives the girl an unamused look, waving her off from her desk. Y/N bites her lip as she takes two steps backward. She didn’t know she’s rushed up too close to Nancy’s table just at the prospect of Yoongi and her working together came from her boss’ lips.

Nancy leans back on her chair, “I know you two have this petty children-in-the-playground fights ever since the start of October last year. I get that your differences are too great to be bridged anytime soon, thus the reason why I grew tired telling you to stop doing your cat and dog thing because I know you two wouldn’t listen anyway. You two just like to bang heads whenever you like—”

“But, it’s Yoongi’s fault-”

Nancy raises a finger, “But, Y/N, this is really important. I will be out-of-the-country for the next three weeks for both some business and family matters. Hence, why I cannot bring you with me as usual. And why I will need you to work under Steven for the meantime: to report to me about any of their progress. The Creatives’ current designs will have us late into this month’s deadline and I do not want this business going down anytime soon because of a weak holiday cover. So, as my PA, you will report everything about their progress to me, and you will report my feedback to them. At the same time, you will tame your childish fights with Yoongi to a minimum so Travel Loca will function as well as it can be while I’m not physically here. Understand?”

Y/N nods, “understand, Ma’am.” She doesn’t have a choice even if she wanted to object. Whatever Nancy dictated is already set in stone.

“Also,” Nancy looks at Y/N, “since I will be off the next three weeks, my schedules for the weeks in my absence will be pushed and packed on the following week. So, I expect you to still work on your station—and work even harder after I came back. Understand?”

More workload? Y/N internally groans. She doesn’t like work getting reduced early into the week then doubling into hell in the latter part of the month. She likes them evened out—everything is balanced, familiar, and predictable. Nevertheless, Y/N only nods, “yes.” “No” doesn’t exist in Nancy’s dictionary.

Nancy returns to her laptop and waves her off, “Okay. Then, capiche.”

“Yes, ma’am, capiche,” Y/N makes a quick bow and scampers out of her boss’ office.

When Y/N reaches her station, she sinks herself into the cushion of her seat. First, Min Yoongi belittles her researching ability in the morning meeting. Then now, she will work with him for the majority of three weeks. After that, another hell will start because of Nancy’s incoming packed schedules.

Y/N’s eyes land on her laptop and she immediately sees her calendar. January 16, 2020. Thursday. Y/N releases an inhumane groan. Of course, the goddamn Thursday curse. When will she ever live?

“When will I ever die?” Y/N sobs into Mina’s shirt. Her friend keeps her arms around her tight as she cards through her hair.

“Hey, don’t think so negative,” Mina coos, “Think of this as an opportunity to finally have Nancy off your back.”

“Yeah, as if working with Min Yoongi is better than that. He already ruins my life when we only physically encounter each other in meetings and breaks and lunches. Imagine working with him for a whole fucking day!”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I take that back,” Mina hugs her friend tighter.

Y/N continues, “And after enduring all that, my workload will quadruple when Nancy comes back after three weeks! I already experienced this during her daughter’s debut last year. When Nancy said a pile of work will come, it fucking means four metal file cases of work. I spent the last two weeks of August plunging myself into an abyss of papers. I did not sleep for two weeks straight! And now— I will have three weeks-worth of hell work to come after spending three weeks working with the personification of Satan. Can the world just eat me up?!”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Mina pulls away to hold her bestfriend at arms-length, “What did you say will happen in three weeks?”

Y/N closes her eyes, “Another hell will come because a shit-pile of work is coming in three weeks! Mina, I’ve been telling you this since morning-”

“Y/N, after three weeks, it’s Valentine’s Day.”

Y/N’s eyes immediately shoot open, “What?”

“Look,” Mina clicks on her phone and flashes Y/N her calendar app. “Today’s January 17. Exactly after three weeks is the Valentine’s week.”

Y/N’s jaw drops ajar, “Oh my god.”

“Yes, Y/N, oh my God. It’s the fucking Heart Holiday.”

“…The country’s long-time problem with their low birth rate has driven the government to build another department that will help its citizens build, manage, and maintain healthy relationships. The Department of Relationship Management was established in 2015, and ever since then, there have been impressive developments in our country’s birth rate. One of the best programs of DRM behind this wonderful growth is the Heart Holiday, the holiday held in the week of Valentine’s Day. It grants any person employed in a private sector one week of paid holiday vacation leave as long as they are currently in a relationship. Meanwhile, education establishments and students are given one week off their academic calendars without regard to their relationship status. Isn’t that sweet? The only downside to that, folks, is that government employees can only have two days of paid holiday leave on the 14th and 15th. But, still, a holiday is still a holiday! So for our lovely listeners, start planning your vacation trips and hangouts! Especially when Cloud 10 Airlines is there to make your holiday week even sweeter with their 70% discount on local trips! Just contact 675-9859 and 568-987—”

“Mina, can you turn off the radio?!”

“Again?!” Mina heaves, “What’s with your aggravation streak these days against Kim Seokjin’s voice?”

“It rattles me,” Y/N half-screams, plopping into the swivel chair next to her friend’s cubicle. “Yesterday, he already announced that goddamn timeline of the DRM and ‘all hailed’ importance of the Heart Holiday. Why does he have to repeat it again today? In that overly-enthusiastic voice, too, as if he’s never read of that script again and again?!”

“Y/N, it’s how broadcasting works. It’s one of the most awaited holidays in the year, so of course, they will nab as many advertisement deals as they can.”

“Well, I don’t like how they work!”

“You cannot just tell a radio company to stop working,” Mina turns in her chair to face her friend, “Also, stop venting your frustration on Seokjin. He doesn’t even know you hate his voice. Routinely doing this noise pollution doesn’t do anything at all. Just tell me what made you upset today.”

“It’s Yoongi!” Y/N scowls. “He won’t explain to me the technical editing terms on Steven’s report for Nancy! He said a five grader can even know what they are. I went through fifth grade, Mina, and I did not freaking know about any photoshop shit!”

“Well, that’s because you’re old.”

Mina looks up and sees Yoongi hovering her cubicle.

Y/N’s scowl deepens, as she turns her chair to the direction of the intruder. “As if you’re any much younger. From what I know, you’re four years older than me, dumbass.”

“Well, at least I know what Steven is talking about,” Yoongi props his chin on Mina’s cubicle.

Y/n rolls her eyes, “Because it’s your freaking line of work! Of course, you’ll know about it!”

“Well, you’re now working most of the time in the Creatives Team and you don’t know it. What does that make you, then? I’ll give you a hint: It’s what you called me three seconds ago. Starts with the letter ‘d’ and ends with the letter ‘s.’”

“What? You think you’re so smart now just because you know that vector-mask-thingy?! News flash, Yoongi, you did not graduate with any Latin honor. I did! So, who’s the real dumbass?!”

“You damn well know Latin honors doesn’t actually have any effect on real life. Practical knowledge has—especially knowledge about terminologies used in digital designing. Which you need because you won’t be able to report anything to your god Nancy. Because, well: You. Don’t. Know. Anything. Like. Always.”

“Min Yoongi, fuck you–”

“Guys, guys, guys, can you stop?”

Y/N gives Yoongi another glare before fixing herself back in her seat. Mina puffs, “Yoongi, can you leave us alone for a while? We’re talking here and you just invited yourself in our conversation.”

Yoongi chides, “Well, tell your friend that if she wants to shit-talk a person just a meter away from her without the said person barging in the conversation, she should keep her voice on the down-low. Not screaming around like a crazy ape.”

Y/N’s jaw drops open, “What crazy ape?! You’re the crazy ape! You look like a fucking gorilla who accidentally get dwarfed by a tooth fairy and-”

“Min Yoongi, just leave us alone,” Mina gives the man a pointed look.

Yoongi shrugs and detaches himself from her cubicle. He heads back to their office but he doesn’t completely leave the room without giving Y/N a middle finger.

Y/N’s mouth drops open in disbelief. She turns to Mina. “See? Isn’t it obvious he just wants to make me the bad man to Nancy again? What kind of person are you to not cooperate with your co-worker like a goddamn adult? I don’t get why no one sees this bitch’s true face but you and me! I just want to freaking tear off his face, make him wipe it in his ass, then place it back on his head since he’s such a literal ass—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mina clasps a hand over your shoulder, “don’t get too homicidal. What you just said, aside from disturbing, is very disgusting.”

Y/N slumps in her seat and crosses her arms.

Mina sighs. “Okay, yeah, I know, Min Yoongi is the worst. But I don’t want you to do anything stupid so let’s not talk about him for a while, ‘kay?” Y/N nods. Mina leans back in her seat with the nth sigh for the day. “Okay, I got some update from Jaehyun.”

Y/N leans forward. “What did he say?”

Mina gives you a sad smile, “He already has a fiancé.”

“So soon?” Y/N scoffs. “He was just courting me two months ago.”

“Yeah, well he’s getting married this week. Whatever,” Mina waves off, “I don’t like him for you anyway. He dresses like a college fuckboy.”

“Okay, what about Dahyun?”

“Already married.”

Y/N’s eyes widen, “and she didn’t tell us?”

“Yeah, I already nagged her on the phone. She said it all kinda happened too fast–her and Sana. And the marriage was in New York. We’re too broke for out-of-the-country trips to attend anyway if we were informed.” Mina smiles, “She said she’s gonna invite us to the Christening of their baby.”

“Okay, I’m glad she still cared about us. Oh,” Y/N pipes up, “what did Jackson say over the phone?”

Mina gives you a tight smile. “Getting married, too. And guess what, the invitations were already in our mail box when I went to get our bills.”

“Momo?”

“Engaged. She and Heechul just broke out the news a week ago.”

“Sam?”

“Married. And 4 months pregnant.”

“Jongdae?”

“Engaged. Also has a baby in way.”

“Hana?”

“Engaged.”

“Changmin?”

“Engaged.”

“Jaebum?

“Engaaaaaged.”

Y/N throws her hands in the air, “Why is everyone getting married?!”

“Well, we’re in our late 20s. It’s the “marrying age” they say. It got more enphasized when DRM’s programs had succeeded in encouraging hundreds of people to marry in the recent year. Even my mom already expects Mark to propose by next month. We’re just dating for 6 months!” Mina cringes. She pulls Y/N’s chair closer to her to hold her hands. “Y/N, I’m really sorry. It kinda slipped my mind that we always apply together for the Heart Holiday every year. It’s just that Mark and I—”

“Hey, hey, don’t blame yourself. You’ve been pining after Mark for about two years and now look at you—together, stable, and in-love half into the year! I don’t want you to fret having a relationship with the boy you liked for so long.”

“Yeah, Y/N, I know,” Mina closes her eyes. “It’s just sad and unfortunate everyone we know are already in relationships.”

“Yeah…” Y/N nods and the two fall into silence. Why is everyone conveniently in a relationship just in time with the Heart Holiday? What, the whole world suddenly knew the loophole in DRM’s program? Y/N and Mina studied that for a whole year! This is unfair. Y/N cannot be the only single person out there who’ll miserably work in the office while everyone gets to have the time of their lives—wait.

Y/N grabs Mina’s hands. “Hey, Nana, I know we said co-workers are off-limits because Nancy will definitely know it’s a ruse. She’ll block my application form before it can even have the seal from the HR. Especially when she found out our lesbian “relationship” was fake after you and Mark updated your civil statuses.” Mina winces and opens her mouth to apologize again but Y/N cuts her with a finger to her mouth. “Nancy will definitely call me a liar and grill my head if she finds out what we’re planning to do now. But look, Nancy’s out of the country. Teddy is the general supervisor and she’s the next in the hierarchy. We damn well know her 45-year-old heart is soft for some nicely-woven romantic story. Even more, in an office setting—the bane of every middle-aged woman’s sappy romantic heart. So, what do you say?”

Mina lets out an exasperated breath, “That crossed my mind, too, you know. But, Y/N, the thing is—the whole Accounting Department is in a relationship. And the same goes for the Writing, Marketing, Logistics, and HR. All of them are either in a relationship, married, or getting married.”

“What?” Y/N’s eyebrows curve up high, “How come I didn’t know this?”

“Uh, because you’re busy working for Nancy day-in and day-out? Also, I just happen to be friends with Jisoo from HR. She’s in charge of the company’s relationship records. Sometimes, she slips in everyone’s stories while we listen to WWL Radio during break time.”

Y/N bites her lip. This can’t be happening to her. Not now. Not when the most un-objectifiable reason for a break from Nancy is about to slip through her fingers like fine sand.

Mina scratches her nape, “I…may have someone in mind though.”

Y/N’s eyes look straight into Mina’s. “Tell me.”

“Well, the entire Creatives Department is either married or engaged save for one.”

Y/N holds Mina’s hands tighter. “Who?”

“Min, Yoongi.”

Y/N must be going crazy. She thinks she must be growing a nest of vultures in her brain now, the mother routinely picking on her numerous dead brain cells to feed to her young. It doesn’t help that the bags under her eyes have started to droop like a waterfall, forming a sad saddle of grey on her cheeks. She cannot even remember the last time she had a decent meal. All she remembers is the finger foods Mina hands to her station every once in a while.

The universe is being unfair to her and it is all taking a toll on her body. They weren’t kidding when they said adjusting to a new environment is an entire whole work in itself. The Creatives Team runs a completely different routine. Large monitors crammed with multiple editing softwares Y/N cannot understand surround the studio-size office space. There are drafted papers and previous issues scattered in every possible corner, some even gathering dust by the floor-to-ceiling windows. Y/N is not even sure if anyone has re-arranged their desks in the last few months. The Creatives’ work ethic is loosely bound on schedules and everyone seems to be doing everyone else’s job. Except for Y/N, because Steven is the only one willing to share their team’s progress to her. But that alone is not enough for her daily report to Nancy because Steven is always busy in his computer. More unfortunately, everyone is wary of her. Y/N’s sure she even saw Kim Myungsoo clutch their design folders closer to his chest when her eyes glanced at his cubicle.

Sure, Y/N expected everyone will have their guards up on her. Who wouldn’t be when they know Nancy still has eyes on them even if she’s countries away? But still, it doesn’t lessen the pain on Y/N’s self-esteem and the stress on her back. If Y/N can’t get someone to talk to her, she won’t be able to provide a more substantial report to Nancy more than just reading Steven’s printed reports verbatim.

Y/N is desperate to find a workmate to discuss everything happening in the Creatives with her, but unluckily for her, she only has someone she wishes to not even breathe the same air with. Of course, no one in the Creatives wants to talk to her except for Min Yoongi. He’s an insufferable ass who doesn’t know when to shut up. He welcomes Y/N every single day with an annoying “Yo, Y/N” and an unneeded commentary about her outfit, like how yesterday he told her “I know retro is in but I didn’t know grandma blouses are deemed stylish again.” He blabbers about his unnecessarily extensive general knowledge about every South Asian country, even if Y/N countlessly told him she didn’t care. He brags about the cover designs and templates he did in the previous issues, flipping the pages too close in Y/N’s face while he speaks about colors and mixing like Y/N is an imbecile about basic color combinations high school students used in their PowerPoint presentations. Yet despite them all, Yoongi still refuses to explain to her the jargon in Steven’s reports.

Y/N tried her best to keep herself from bursting and giving Yoongi an earful of sense. Yes, everyone knows she does not like Yoongi but Y/N doesn’t want them to know to what extent she can go to express them, afraid of embarrassing herself. But in her defense, three days into the first week without Nancy, Yoongi has gone as far as to chip a small bit off Y/N’s mug in the break room. The mug with the “creative juices” in cursive printed around its body—Mina’s gift from college. Y/N’s patience meter was blasted off the roof. It will be safe to tell that at the end of the day, Y/N has screamed the hell out of Yoongi that everyone can be sure the latter’s ears may have fallen out of his head. Steven was close to reporting to Teddy what just happened. It was just Y/N’s remaining luck that helped her successfully and implicitly begged Steven not to do so by telling him calling Yoongi “a mean, inconsiderate, self-absorbed jerk who should eat his shit because people are what they eat and he is obviously the biggest shit in her life,” is just her “unique” way of expressing co-worker appreciation to the man.

Aside from putting up with Yoongi’s Satanic attitude, Y/N has to endure Nancy’s intermittent calls with her forever pissed voice coming in first thing in the morning until in the late, ungodly hours. And despite Teddy’s patient guidance over Y/N’s “transition” to the Creatives Team, Y/N’s still close to digging a six-feet deep hole in her station. No, not because of Teddy or Nancy. It’s because she poured her remaining effort dedicated for work by spending the entire week going through every staff member of Travel Loca. Y/N thought Mina must have overlooked a face. That it’s possible Jisoo skipped on a detail she told to her friend. But despite learning Lee Minyoung from the Writing Department is going to call it quits to her boyfriend just after Valentine’s, or how Michael Park from Marketing is about to pop the ring to his girlfriend just right on Valentine’s Day, the looming fact Y/N dreads presents itself on January 24, two weeks before Valentine’s: No one else in the office is single but her…and Min Yoongi.

Of course, it didn’t surprise Y/N, Yoongi must be single. With that know-it-all façade and condescending tone wearing you out like a 24/7 walking instruction manual no one even asked for, who would even like to date him? One week with him as a co-worker alone already makes Y/N want to throw herself into the flaming hot pit of the nearest volcano.

But it’s only two more weeks before Valentine’s and Y/N is desperate and desperate times call for desperate measures. Y/N did a last-minute check-up on her and Mina’s lists of contacts—phone, social media, e-mails, everything under the sun—only to come up with nothing. Mina’s “marrying age” theory must be true because everyone, every single one, of their acquaintances are already married or getting married. Y/N then changed up her game. She started to opt for resources she never thought she will ever use in her life: dating apps. Tinder, Bumble, The League, Grindr—name it, Y/N had made every account for every conceivable dating site. She even spent the most of her break time this week hiding her phone beneath her desk and swiping right. But even this last considerable option proved to be pointless as all the replies she received are either honest “sorry, not interested,” rude “you’re no fun,” or out-right salacious “suck my dick.”

This then left Y/N no choice but to consider the most unspeakably horrendously unfortunate option she didn’t even want to have. Min Yoongi is her only choice left. And for that, Y/N spent two days making an elaborate plan. She can’t afford any loose threads or plan-holes that can further make her at the mercy of the infuriating jerk. However, even if she made everything as seamless as it can be, Y/N knows it will be the worst decision she’ll ever make in her life. Mina also expressed the same concern, even apologized for planting that small information about Yoongi in her friend’s mind. But even her friend’s day-by-day discouragement to push through with her plan is not enough to deter Y/N.

Because even if just thinking about the plan makes Y/N feel the world is about to crumble and swallow her down in its unending, fathomless depths; even if it makes her want to set up an appointment with an exorcist, Y/N knew she won’t back out. It’s not viruses or bacteria, it’s a seeded idea that is the most contagious living entity that can take hold of any human being. And the moment Y/N realized there’s no other ticket way out of her dilemma but Yoongi, she knew this thought will haunt her for nights on end.

This is the reason why Y/N’s currently standing by the corner of the Creatives’ office when it’s already 6:46 P.M. while almost everyone has left the office. Almost, because Yoongi, apart from her, is the only one left in the office as Steven requested him to finish a color palette by tonight. Y/N gulps a thick blob of saliva. Sweat runs thick on her forehead. God, if Mina could see what Y/N’s about to do, she will be already by her side, yelling for her to just give up. Y/N shakes her head. This is Mina’s fault anyway. If she didn’t plant the idea in her head, she wouldn’t have to do this. She wouldn’t be creeping behind a door like a disgusting stalker. She wouldn’t be profusely sweating in an air-conditioned room like a guilty murderer. She wouldn’t be-

“What the hell are you doing behind the door?”

Y/N shrieks and jumps a half-foot away from her spot.

“The hell—what’s gotten into you?!” Yoongi frowns, “And why are you even here?”

Y/N’s brows meet together in her forehead. But before she can speak, Yoongi’s snickers drown out the words in her throat.

“Wait, don’t tell me you’ve come as far as spying on my work. I didn’t know you’re going to be this petty,” Yoongi sighs and puts his hand on his waist, “Well, if you think going through my work laptop will get you to understand Steven’s report, I’m sorry to say you won’t get anything, little girl.”

Yes, it’s true. The words did die out in Y/N’s throat. It’s just flames of anger sweeping in the valleys of her mouth. Y/N surges forward, fists clenched tight, “‘Little girl’? I am not a fucking little girl!”

Yoongi grins, “Then what should I call someone who’s a foot smaller than me?”

“What fucking ‘foot’?! We’re just inches apart! Have you ever seen yourself in a mirror? You’re not even that tall!”

“Says the one who’s looking up at me just to level her eyes with mine,” Yoongi raises his brows, “and who’s now standing a little too close to me because apparently, standing a socially-decent foot away won’t enable her to see my face.”

Y/N’s eyes widen and she immediately takes a step back. She doesn’t get how easy it is for Yoongi to rile her up that she instantly forgets how to control her body. When she looks up at him, the man is smirking at her. Her mouth aches to tell him he actually looks stupid with that lopsided smile if he thought doing it will make him a tad bit inch sorry excuse of “sexy.” But then, Y/N remembers she has a purpose tonight. She didn’t just waste an hour waiting in the excruciating office space of the Creatives Team just to get nothing done.

Y/N closes her eyes and breathes out. When she opens them again, she looks at Yoongi in the eyes. “I’m not here to fight with you, Yoongi. I’m here to make an offer.”

Yoongi scoffs, “An offer? You? Are you hearing yourself right now? In case you weren’t informed, I don’t need anything from you. And I didn’t—”

“You’re single right?”

Yoongi gawks at her, “W-what?”

“Well, I’m single, too. And Valentine’s week is coming in two weeks.”

“So?”

Y/N tries not to grit her teeth, “So, that means the Heart Holiday is also coming. Nancy is bound to come back during that time, too, with an obvious incoming large workload to come for me. I can’t afford to hole myself up in this office while everyone gets to enjoy a paid holiday week. And since you have an affinity for disliking your job, I figured you also wouldn’t want to go to work during Valentine’s week.” Y/N crosses her arms, “So I’m here, Min Yoongi, to give you an offer: Fake date me for two weeks to make it to DRM’s PRS’ application deadline. When our application gets approved, we part ways and never speak about what happened in these two weeks. It’s a win-win situation. I don’t get to work during Valentine’s. You also don’t get to work, and we both will still get paid. So, what do you say?”

Yoongi just stares at her. Y/N could feel cold sweat running from her scalp and down to her back. Why is he looking at her like that? Why is he being so silent? Is he about to make fun of her and bring it up to work tomorrow? Oh God, Y/N shouldn’t have even gone through with this plan. This is a bad idea. A bad, bad, bad, idea that should have never been entertained and buried in a trunk of embarrassing memories, never to see the light again—

“I’m in.”

Y/N freezes, “W-what?”

Yoongi takes a step closer to Y/N. He leans forward, closing the distance between their faces into mere six inches. Y/N doesn’t need to crane her head up anymore because this time, their eyes are finally leveled with each other.

Yoongi smiles, “I’m telling you, Y/N, I’m in in your plan.”

Y/N looks at him. She just looks at him. Five seconds have already passed. Yoongi should be laughing in her face right now. But the man did not, and takes a step back away from her. He fixes his satchel on his shoulder and closes the Creatives’ glass door behind him shut. When Yoongi looks back at Y/N, he gives her a shrug, “Hey, if you’re not going home, I am.” He heads for the main door, hands dug into his pockets. Y/N’s eyes just follow his figure. Before Yoongi completely gets out of the office, he hollers, a hand cupping over his mouth, “I said I’m already in in your plan. You can go now. See you tomorrow.” He sends Y/N one last smile.

It takes Y/N five more seconds before she breaks her frozen stance. What did just happen? Yoongi didn’t laugh at her. He didn’t put up a fight. He….agreed? Just like that? This is impossible. This cannot happen! Yoongi doesn’t agree, he argues! Always! And he just doesn’t bid her goodbye and “see you tomorrow.” Yoongi annoys her with one last hit of “goodbye, grandma.” And Yoongi doesn’t smile. He smirks. He just pulls up one side of his lips, squints his eyes, and snorts. Y/N must be going crazy. This is not Yoongi! A whole different man has suddenly appeared before her. This cannot be!

But despite all the things going back and forth in her head right now, there’s only one looming thought on top of them all that had Y/N release a staggered breath:

What the fuck did she just get herself into?

next | series masterlist

Disclaimer: This first chapter is based on Netflix’s Set It Up (2018), particularly Nancy’s briefing scene and the USB scene. Netflix’s Set It Up (2018) is the inspiration for this fic and so I based Ms. Nancy’s personality on Lucy Liu’s portrayal of Kirsten Stevens! Ms. Lucy Liu was fantastic in her performance! That being said, all scenes and references from the movie used in this story are the property of its respective owners. The rest belongs to the author. This work is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended. Anyways, if you wish to watch the movie, don’t worry about encountering any spoilers in this fic!

A/N pt. 2: Hi hons! I decided to cut this fic into parts as this will be very long (hello banter dialogues). Writing a 25+k wordcount (so far, this is my assumed final wordcount) may overwhelm a lot of readers and make them not want to read this anymore ☹ Anyway, the succeeding parts will be released soon as I already have a detailed storyboard and outline for this mini-series so you don’t have to wait that long. Thank you for giving this fic a chance, hons. Also, feedback is more than appreciated. Tell me what you guys think! ♡♡♡ \(> u

Taglist: @fangirls94 @ditttiii @chogiyeol-utopia

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goldeneyedgirl · 4 years ago

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JaliceWeek21 - Day 7: No Dialogue: This Time

Is... is this what organisation feels like? Having a fic ready to post?

Kayla wanted more Divorce Jalice, which I haven’t posted outside of Discord yet, but this is basically a snapshot of their reconciliation.

he.

I saw you for the first time when we were seventeen and, Alice, I fell in love with you first sight. God, I was a goner who made a complete fool of himself trying to impress you and, despite my very best efforts, somehow you felt the same way.

It takes him the best part of the week to write the letter.

He struggles to find the words he wants to say. It feels a little dangerous, even writing the letter - she made herself clear when she moved in, that she didn’t want to remarry him. That it had taken months of negotiations for Alice to even agree to move in. And then there had been the long debate about her paying her share, even though her freelancing was successful and she was rarely at a loss for work, every trip to the ER left her exhausted for days. She didn’t make a salary, didn’t have any benefits… it just wasn’t reasonable or even expected for her to cover exactly half of the household expenses plus her own - he knew how much she loathed taking money from her family, but had made peace with it when she had no other choice.

And they had been had reached a good place, together. He’d argue it was better now than it had been when they were younger - there was so much laughter, so much conversation, and there was never a night when he didn’t look at her, curled up asleep in his arms, when he didn’t thank every power on earth that he’d been given another chance with Alice.

This… this was something else entirely. This was putting his entire heart in her hands, and risking losing her entirely. He knew Alice, better than he had before, and he knew that if she wasn’t at least a tiny bit open to this, she’d just move out again. Give them both ‘space’.

So, he writes the letter over and over again until it’s as good as it’s going to get. Then he writes it again because he’s smeared the ink.

But finally, it’s done, and he keeps it in his bag - like a ticking bomb. He goes home, they have dinner together and go to bed early to make love and watch the end of a movie. He sleeps with her in his arms, and he tries not to think that if this all goes wrong, this will be it - the very last time. That she’ll be gone again, like a ghost, and he already knows how wrong that will feel.

He leaves her sleeping the next morning, with a kiss to her temple. He walks across the road to the bodega for the good bagels and a bunch of flowers. He leaves them in the kitchen, and props up the letter in front of the vase.

And then he pulls the rings out. The fine, etched wedding ring, and the sapphire engagement ring. The initials and dates are engraved in the inside of both rings, three sets of Whitlock grooms and brides. He’d felt like a failure when he’d taken them back, had broken a link in an unbreakable chain. They were always destined to be passed to one of Rosalie’s children, but freely given, maybe even bequeathed. Never across a conference table, in front of lawyers.

Never as an act of pity and kindness when he had been buzzing from whatever cocktail of pills and alcohol he’d chased with an espresso before he signed away any legal or emotional connection to Alice.

Fuck, he was still ashamed and guilty. He still hated himself, especially now he knew the entire story.

He stares at the rings in his hand and hopes. That’s all he has left. Hope. And then he tucks them into the envelope.

It’s done. Whatever happens next, it is what it is.

she.

I have struggled with how close I came to losing you forever, and I think I always will. I need you to know that you are, and have always been, the best and most precious thing to me.

It’s a normal morning when she wakes up. Jasper leaves the curtains drawn these days, leaves her to sleep the morning away, if that’s what she needs. There have been a few little set-backs with her health over the last few years, but mostly she’s good.

No, not good. Better than good. Happy, content, loved. It’s more than she ever hoped for, in those dark days between one failed surgery and the next; when she and her surgeons had to debate the benefits of more surgery versus a full transplant, and she was alone with no one to lean on, no hand to hold.

Looking back, she wants to comfort her past self, let her know that better days are coming, that Jasper will come back to her - and her Jasper, not the man she divorced - and she’ll be okay. That every empty hospital room, every nurse that pitied her lack of flowers, and family and friends clustered around her bedside as she waited for the doctors’ verdict, her chest stitched and stapled and swathed in bandages, is just another step closer to things being wonderful again. That she and Jasper are both better people, better friends, better partners and lovers for everything that happened.

She gets out of bed, and heads towards the bathroom - detouring into her bedroom to retrieve clothes. She’s got a half-done piece on her desk, one that needs to be finished and shipped to her client in the next week or so.

After her shower, she locates her phone. The lock-screen is a photo of her and Jasper, the weekend he dragged her to California for some conference. They’re sprawled out on a sun-lounger together, grinning at the camera. It’s her favourite photo of him, of them. She can see his tattoos snaking around his side, his arm, his shoulder, and his neck; his hair is pulled back in a ridiculous ponytail she finds impossibly sexy, and the smile on his face is pure, unadulterated happiness. She’s tucked into his side in the silly (he called them ‘hot’ and ‘adorable’) heart-shaped sunglasses he’d bought her when she forgot hers. She’s got her hands clasped against her chest, her head nestled against his, and she’s smiling too. She remembers being so nervous about wearing a bikini for the first time, with her scars, but he’d convinced her, and they’d had a great day. A few people stared, but that was normal.

That had been the week he’d started wearing his wedding ring again, and when she’d asked, he’d dismissed it by saying he was tired of people hitting on him, even after he told them he wasn’t interested - and at the conference, with alcohol and the beach, it would be more annoying.

She’d let him think she believed that excuse and let it go.

It’s after eleven, and there’s no messages from him. Usually when she gets up, there’s at least three or four - maybe a photo of good coffee art if he stops by his usual place; a link to a restaurant or a movie he thinks they’d enjoy; or maybe an article that will make her laugh. And always a ‘good morning beautiful’ just before lunchtime.

Not today, not yet. Not so much as a dirty emoji message as a joke. There’s one from Rosalie (lunch on Friday), one from a prospective client, and one from Esme (family lunch on Sunday, can she and Jasper bring a dessert).

She frowns as she slips into the kitchen, and her gaze falls on the flowers - a mess of bright yellows and blues and pinks and purples. They’re beautiful and unnecessary and she’s already reaching for her phone again when she sees the letter propped up against it.

And for a second, she thinks her heart stops.

they.

I know you didn’t buy whatever I told you about me wearing my ring again. Because it was never about anyone else. It’s about you and me, and my commitment to you - my promise that as long as you’ll have me, I’ll be here. And that’s why I want you to have these back - because they have always been yours.

He walks home the long way. Home, in that moment, feels like a trap. Until he gets there, slides the key into the lock, he still has a partner, a girlfriend, a quasi-wife who told him so damn clearly that she didn’t want more than what they had.

(He knows it all now. The depth of the hurt, the pain. Pondering if she should have just cancelled the surgery and died quietly in the bed next to him whilst he drank and got high and fucked around behind her back. The days she spent in a hospital bed, alone and forgotten whilst he sat in a hard plastic chair in a church basement and admitted he had a problem. The long nights in the ER, holding her breath that it was just a false alarm, and nothing to worry about. Couples therapy had been as damning as it had been cleansing, and he carries her lost years with him everywhere, reminding him to be better, reminding him of how close it all came to being unfixable. He understands why she shies away from remarrying him when their marriage was always tangled up in so much hurt, but it doesn’t stop him from wanting more, wanting the most she can give.)

She’s in the kitchen, cooking dinner, when he walks in the door. That has to be a good sign. The apartment is warm and cosy, and it feels more like a home than anywhere he’s ever lived. He doesn’t want that to change.

Clutching his peace offering - a raspberry cake from the place a few blocks away - he walks into the kitchen.

She’s always the most beautiful woman in the room, in the world, to him and that’s no different tonight. There are no words for her, flitting around the kitchen like she knows what she’s doing, the curl of her hair against her cheek, the way she bites her lip as she checks something on the stove.

The way she brushes her hair out of her face with a hand that is wearing a fine, etched wedding ring, and a sapphire engagement ring that has their initials and wedding year engraved on the inside, and his heart definitely freezes in his chest and she’s wearing them again and that’s not something he let himself hope for. He prepared himself for the very worst and he’s found the very best and he doesn’t know what to say.

She meets his gaze with that warm smile, the one that is a little secretive and knowing that she only ever offers to him, and he holds out the cake like an offering and as she takes it, her eyes lighting up, he moves around the island to scoop her into his arms and kiss her. She squeals and somehow manages to put the cake down before she throws her arms around his neck, and he can feel her smiling against his lips.

He kisses her like it’s the very last time he’ll ever kiss her, like he’s trying to prove something. And maybe he is. Maybe he’s always going to be making up the past to her, like he can erase the hurt, the pain, the suffering. But they don’t have a time machine, and she’s long since made peace with everything that happened. Addiction is an illness, like everything else, but one that never truly goes away. The same way her heart will always been a little bit broken, he will also have that struggle. Maybe some day it will win again; there will probably be days when he does fall, just as long as there are more days he doesn’t. And that’s okay - she didn’t fall in love with him expecting him to be perfect. And the more she thinks about it, reflects on the apologies and the things he’s told her about everything that happened, she knows he never intended to hurt her.

Jasper’s been the centre of her universe since they were seventeen, since he looked across a classroom at her like he was starstruck and then grinned, that same grin he’s wearing now like he’s won an unwinnable prize. As if she could have resisted him, back then and right now.

That everything she is to him, he is to her.

He pulls back to look her in the eyes, to take her hand wearing the rings and to kiss it. She kisses him again hard and that’s all he needs to hoist her over his shoulder, her squealing and laughing, and it’s the best sound in the world as he turns off the stove and the oven, and sweeps her off towards his room.

Towards their room, both of them giddy, drunk on each other, on the idea that they’re in the same place at the same time, happy, healthy, and whole. Together, forever (this time.)

There is nothing in the world I love or will even love a much as I love you.

#jaliceweek #alice cullen #jasper hale #jalice #twilight fic #twilight renaissance #human au #wip #my fic: divorce jalice #romance #no dialogue

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p-artsypants · 4 years ago

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I’ll Handle This (3)

Ao3 | FF.net

The walk to the Principal's office wasn’t that long, but it felt like it with the dagger’s Adrien was staring at him.

“I know what you’re going to say—“

“You knocked him unconscious.”

“What was I supposed to do? Let him drag me all the way back to the mansion, making me escape again?”

“You’re doing this all wrong! Father doesn’t like disobedience! He’s just going to tighten the leash every time you act up! It’s better if you just apologize now and then follow his orders to a T.”

“Listen to yourself, Adrien.” Plagg paused one the hall. “Orders? Disobedience? You make him sound like a prison warden, and not a father! You always followed his rules and it’s gotten you nowhere.”

“I was better off then than I am now...”

“Yes, you were.” Plagg admitted. “Not going to lie, this is going to get way worse before it gets better. But I’ve already made my intentions known to him, so he’ll know that I’m not just being rebellious without due cause. I’ll just have to keep pushing until he cracks.”

“I hate this.”

“Cheer up kid. Just enjoy the ride. I’ll take care of everything.”

Adrien just groaned as they reached the Principal's office and he dove back into his pocket.

Plagg knocked.

“Yes yes, come in.”

Inside, Mr. Damocles only spared Plagg a glance. “Yes, Mr. Agreste, what do you need?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then can it wait until after school? I’m very busy.”

“Okay.” And he walked back outside.

“You were supposed to tell him about what happened in class, and he was going to punish you!” Adrien chastised.

“I don’t want to be punished.” Plagg shrugged.

Adrien just groaned again. “You will be the death of me.”

“Adrien, don’t be so dramatic.” Plagg impersonated his father. “Emotions are for peasants. We rich people have no need for feelings.”

“Damn, that’s really accurate.”

“I practice.”

Adrien floated out of the pocket. “By the way…why didn’t you tell me Marinette was Ladybug?”

Plagg halted and leaned against the railing. “How’d you figure that out?”

“Tikki.”

Plagg snorted. “I bet she felt pretty stupid for letting that slip.”

“She said you’re a cheater.”

He shrugged. “She has the same ability as me. She’s just too much of a goody-goody two shoes. Anyway, I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t supposed to.”

“You’re also not supposed to put cheese in my shoes, but that doesn’t stop you.”

“That’s different. The whole identity rule was put in place by the Guardians. Master Fu, the guardians before him, and now Marinette. That’s a little more binding.”

Adrien wilted, knowing he was beaten.

“But you’re on board with my plan now, right? Flirting with Marinette?”

“Sure, but Tikki said she’s already in love with me.”

“That’s true, but she doesn’t know you’re in love with her. And instead of just confessing, I’m going to slowly convince her that she’s the one you’re in love with.”

“Why do it slowly?”

“Two reasons.” Plagg held up his fingers. “One: I want to leave the mushy gushy confession stuff to you, and B: it’s more fun this way.”

“You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

“Yes. One worthy of the Louvre. I’m glad you’ve finally noticed.” He swiped Adrien out of the air and tucked him into his pocket. “Now, we must get back to class. While I certainly lived the Hundred Years War, you still need to know what’s going to be on the test.”

Plagg walked back into the classroom, completely unbothered.

Miss Bustier looked surprised to see his return. The Gorilla was propped up against the wall with a washcloth on his forehead. He was still unconscious. “Back already? What did Mr. Damocles have to say about your behavior?”

“He took away one of my good noodle stars.”

Someone in the back of the room snorted.

Miss Bustier sighed, as if she had been expecting this. “Alright, take your seat, Adrien. I better not hear a peep out of you for the rest of the day.”

“You got it, teach!”

—

At lunch, Plagg turned in his seat and addressed Nino. “Hey, you busy after school?”

“Uh...Alya and I had a date, but if you’re free I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if I postponed!”

“It’s a little rude to cancel plans without consulting the person you made them with, don’t you think?” Alya snarked, leaning forward.

“Oh my apologies, madam.” Plagg bowed. “Dost thou mind if thine beloved joins me on an errand after school?”

“But Adrien,” interrupted Marinette. “Don’t you have fencing after school?”

“Hmm, you’re right. I have to keep up appearances.”

“What?”

“After fencing then.”

“Hmm, how about this,” suggested Alya. “What if we come watch your fencing practice, and then we all go together.”

Plagg blanched. “Eh, I don’t really want to be a third wheel.”

“You wouldn’t. Marinette’s coming too!”

“Oh!” He hopped up on his knees, eagerly getting into her space. “Like a double date? That sounds like fun!”

“Date?!” Stuttered Marinette, “Uh, yeah! Sure!” Then her face pulled into a wince. “That is, if you don’t want to go with Kagami instead...”

“Nah, this is an errand meant for the OG crew. Wouldn’t want anyone else! So what are we doing for lunch?”

“You don’t have to go home?”

“Sure, I have to, but I don’t want to. Let’s see...” he took out his wallet. Inside, there were several credit cards, but only one in Gabriel’s name.

“I’ll cover lunch, let's hit the most expensive restaurant there is! Daddy’s paying!”

—

After lunch, the group walked back to school, with the boys taking the lead while the girls hung back a few steps.

“Okay, as much as I love new Adrien,” Alya whispered. “There’s definitely something up with him.”

“Yeah. I noticed the minute I saw him this morning. I’m really worried about him.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t be worried about him. I’d be worried about everyone else.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just mean...he’s gotten a taste of power somewhere, and it’s bound to explode outward. I’m sure that triple digit bill at lunch is not going to go over well with his father. If he’s messing with his dad and with Lila...when is it going to stop?”

“No. Adrien’s not like that. I think he’s acting out for attention.”

“You think he’d do that?”

“I...I don’t know. But I think it’s closer to what’s happening. Adrien is good and kind, he’s not snotty like Chloe. I think this is just honest to goodness rebellion.”

Plagg turned around and called back to the girls. “Do you think a tattoo would suit me?” Then he grabbed his leg in pain. “Ouch! Cramp!”

“Definitely rebellion.”

—

After school, Nino, Alya, and Marinette took a seat under the shady courtyard stairs so they could work on homework and watch Adrien’s practice at the same time.

Nino spread out his books and then leaned back on his elbows.

“You guys noticed how frickin weird Adrien’s been acting today?”

“Yes!” The girls said unanimously.

“We were just talking about that at lunch!” Said Alya. “Marinette says it's a rebellion. I say he’s tasting the rich boy power.”

Nino screwed up his lips. “I think you’re both wrong. I think he’s magically switched bodies with someone...or something...”

“Dude, what the hell are you talking about?” Alya stared at him, blank-faced.

“Come on, you can’t seriously rule that out! What if there’s a body swapping Akuma out and about that we don’t know about yet?”

“You think Adrien’s an Akuma?”

“Or under the effects of one.” Nino clarified. “Maybe someone out to ruin his reputation...or something more sinister...”

“If that’s the case, we should grill him. Ask him questions only the real Adrien would know.”

“Yeah!” Nino stood. “Like that one episode of Spongebob!”

“We should definitely not take advice from a children’s show.”

“Or…we should.”

Adrien emerged from the locker room, foil in hand and dressed in his gear. There was still something off about him. Were his pants on backwards?

“Hey Adrien!” Nino called.

Like an excited puppy, Adrien trotted over. “Sup homes?”

“What’s your favorite vine?”

He rubbed his chin. “Odd question. But I suppose it’d be a trumpet, or perhaps a Honeysuckle.”

“Uhh…” Nino raised a brow at him, suspicion rising.

“Oh, you mean one of your silly little internet videos.” Immediately, Adrien dropped into a fighting stance. “DON’T EFF WITH ME! I’VE GOT THE POWER OF GOD AND ANIME ON MY SIDE! AHHHHHH!”

“Yep, that’s Adrien.”

—

While Alya and Nino got to work on their homework, Marinette was constantly distracted by Adrien. Nothing new, of course, but it wasn’t all ‘grace’ and ‘elegance’.

It was ‘sneaky’ and ‘unlawful’.

Whenever Adrien’s partner was turned away, Adrien grabbed the tip of his saber, and bent it, only to release it a second later to snap on his opponent’s rear end.

“Hey!”

“You had a fly.”

“Mr. Agreste!” The coach called. “I don’t tolerate unsportsmanlike conduct! One more goof, and you’re out of practice!”

“Just one more?”

“One more!”

*TWACK*

“Out you go!”

“Thanks!” And Adrien walked right off the mat and over to the locker room. He came out a few minutes later, looking even more disheveled than he was this morning. His hair was a sweaty rat’s nest.

“Now that I’ve been kicked out of fencing, who wants to run some errands!?”

Alya slammed her book shut. “Me is ready. Me can't read anymore!”

“Well, me is hungry,” said Nino. “Can we get food first?”

“Snacks it is!”

But before they could even go anywhere, Kagami appeared, looking rightfully confused. “You’re skipping fencing today?”

“Correction, was kicked out of fencing today!”

Her eyes widened in horror, before she frowned hard. “That’s not something to joke about Adrien.”

“I’m not joking, I was goofing around and Coach kicked me out of practice.”

She shook her head. “That’s disappointing, Adrien. I expected better from you.”

In Plagg’s pocket, Adrien gave a little gasp of pain. Hearing his father’s disappointment was one thing, but hearing that from Kagami was horribly painful.

But Plagg rolled with it easily. “Kagami, let’s talk.” He turned to his friends. “I’ll be back in a little bit, think about where you want to eat.” Then Plagg led Kagami over to a secluded corner so they could speak privately.

In the pocket, Adrien prayed that Plagg would be nice to her.

Once they were a distance away, Kagami crossed her arms and levelled a glare at him. “If you are going to tell me to loosen up, I am. But you know how important fencing is for me. I want you to have friends, but I don’t like you blowing off responsibilities.”

“Kagami,” Plagg folded his hands in front of him. “This is bigger than us.”

Her face paled. “What? What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, you and I are leading different lives—“

“You’re breaking up with me?” She sniffed.

“Ah ah, technically, we were never really dating in the first place.”

“But—“

“I’m going to explain something to you, and I want you to listen and hear it objectively, as much as it will hurt. Don’t take it personally, alright?”

She nodded sadly.

“You think you’re in love with me, because you think you should be. I’m the only male friend you have that’s our age, and because of the affection you have for me, you’re assuming that it’s infatuation, when really, it’s just a connection.”

She blinked, frowning, but her eyes weren’t tearing up anymore.

“I’m in a similar boat to you, where I started to like my first female friend on instinct. It was only until I made other female friends that I realized what I felt for her was really love, and not just the thrill of having a friend that’s a girl.”

“Then…how do you know I don’t feel the same? I get what you’re saying, but I think I really love you.”

“Do you? Or do you love the idea of me? Do you love the idea of having a male companion that you can bond with?”

“I do like that…”

“Can you imagine it being someone other than me?”

“I don’t know who else it would be…”

“Make up a person. Pretend you’re talking to someone else, getting ice cream with someone else. Do you feel like you could get the same thing you want from me from someone else? Or is it something only I can give? Is it companionship? Or is it my sense of humor, my topics, my interests, my opinions?”

Kagami crossed her arms, now deep in thought.

“Kagami, I don’t want to hurt your feelings. I do care a lot about you, and I really enjoy fencing with you. But…I can’t see myself spending the rest of my life with you. We’re too alike, and yet too different. Our discussions are shallow, and I don’t think you want the same things from life as I do. But I think you want a boyfriend, and I was the closest boy available.”

Kagami unfolded her arms, and raised her head to look at him levelly. “Yes, I suppose that is an accurate assessment. You do do things that irritate me, like fooling around in serious moments. Every time I brought up the future, you clammed up. I can see you live for the now and not for tomorrow, which is difficult to build a relationship on.”

Both Plagg and Adrien sighed. She was taking this extremely well, given her track record for akumatizations.

“I suppose I do need to make more male friends. I think that would be smart to learn more about what I want in a partner. And we can always revisit our relationship in the future, right?”

“Umm, maybe…?”

She frowned again. “Oh, yes, you said earlier that you are in love with someone else. It’s Marinette, isn’t it?”

Plagg grinned. “Pretty obvious, isn’t it?”

“I was in disbelief when you called her a ‘really good friend’. I saw it a mile away, but since neither of you were making a move, I decided to ‘shoot my shot’ as they say.”

Plagg figured that’s how it was, but Adrien was gawking at her from inside the pocket. She knew?? And she didn’t tell him?!

“I suppose I should have expected this conversation as well. But I appreciate your insight. I think you’re right. I just want a boyfriend.” She shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t have to be you.”

Plagg sighed again. “Thank you, Kagami.”

“No, thank you, Adrien. Thank you for breaking this off before I got too invested. You know how much I hate wasting time.” And with that, she walked off.

Once she was out of earshot, Plagg whistled lowly. “Whoa, burn. Dodged a bullet there, pal.”

“The time we spent together was not a waste!” Adrien protested. “Anytime spent with friends should be cherished!”

Plagg cupped him in his hand, rubbing right between the ears. “Hey, come on kid. She didn’t mean it like that. She can be as cool and calm as she wanted, but she’s still hurt. But I swear, it’s better for both of you this way, especially since you’re in love with Marinette.”

“I know…it just…sucks.”

“Sure it does. But it won’t forever.” Then he popped him back inside the pocket. “Come on! Let’s meet up with the others! We have some shopping to do!”

“What are we shopping for, exactly?”

“Tools to use to piss off your old man.”

“Uh, been there, done that?”

“Oh no, my teeny tiny friend, we have much left to do. Much left.”

—

“Touching me…”

“Touching you…”

“SWEET CAMEMBERT! BAH BAH BAH—“

“Now,” Nino interrupted their little impromptu karaoke down the sidewalk, “my English might not be very good, but I’m pretty sure it’s ‘Sweet Caroline’ not ‘Sweet Camembert.’”

“Aw,” Plagg waved his hand. “It’s not important what the lyrics are, it’s just important that you feel the song.”

Nino, as a DJ, looked aghast. “Of course it’s important to know the lyrics! Why do you think they’re written that way?”

“Relax, I love making cheese parodies of songs. I’m not going to go to Jagged Stone and argue that my lyrics are better.”

“Um…since when do you make cheese parodies? And aren’t you like, low key lactose intolerant?”

“Allergies can’t stop the cheese, my friend. Why do you think I take so many bathroom breaks?”

Adrien pinched him from inside the pocket, but Plagg just swatted him back. Did he not see the opportunity he was just given? A perfect cover for when he had to go fight akumas!

All he had to do was become the weird cheese kid. Such were the sacrifices of being a hero.

“Oh!” Marinette exclaimed as they walked past a boutique. “That is adorable!” She stared at a dress in the window.

Plagg’s ears metaphorically perked up and he swooped in to make a move. He laid an arm on her shoulder. “Oh, yes Marinette, that’s extremely cute. I think it would look nice on you! Can I buy it for you?” He gave her a smooth smile.

Adrien facepalmed in his pocket.

“What! You want to—for me? No! No…I can certainly make it on my own!” She snapped a picture of the dress. “I think I could find a print I like better too.”

Plagg was not deterred. “Oh, then perhaps I could buy the fabric for you? It’s not often that I get to buy things for my friends!”

“Dude, you bought us lunch today.” Said Nino, with some concern. “You okay? Like…you’re not going to start giving away your personal belongings, are you?”

“No, unless I have something you want? A video game perhaps?”

“Stop it. You’re freaking me out.”

This actually did give Plagg pause. In all his experience of human history, supplementing friendships with presents was the easiest way to manipulate people. What was he doing wrong? Was Adrien not generous enough?

“You know…” Nino scratched the back of his head, “they say when your friends start being super nice and giving stuff away and talking about personal things…it’s a sign of them being suicidal.”

Adrien’s bite was sorely deserved, Plagg decided as he flinched. “No! No no, gods no!” He laughed awkwardly. “I just…decided to be a little more…generous?”

Marinette laid a hand on his arm. “Adrien, never feel like you have to buy our friendship. We like spending time with you, no matter how we get it.”

Plagg tightened his jaw. He knew what he had to do, but mushy-ness and feelings were his least favorite thing in the world.

He took her hand and held it. “Thank you Marinette. I love you, all of you. It’s so important to me that I get to spend time with you too, and I’m happiest when I’m with my friends. I just wanted to show my appreciation.”

Nino sniffled and wiped his eyes. “We love you too man.”

Slam dunk.

—

The shopping trip went splendidly. His target was horribly gaudy clothes that would offend his father. He used Marinette as a litmus test. If she gaped in shock, it was perfect.

Most of his purchases ended up being cheap tourist shirts, ‘Hawaiian’ shirts as they were often referred to.

After the initial shock of Plagg subjecting them to the eye sores, it started to turn into a game.

“Look Adrien! This one’s got little croissants on it!” Marinette said with glee.

“I love it,” Plagg stated, holding it up to Adrien’s body in the mirror. “But, all of these shirts are still just a little too normal. I think it’ll piss my dad off, but it’s not enough to push him into absolutely indignant.”

Marinette shrugged. “I mean, we are in Paris, the fashion capital of the world.”

Nino was the one that held up two shirts together. “I mean, you could wear these two at the same time.” One was a sunset orange, and the other was a vibrant Microsoft Blue Screen of death blue. It was painful to look at them next to each other.

Marinette made a loud, gasp, it almost sounded like a honk. “Nino.”

“What? I thought we were going for gaudy?”

“We are, we are, you’re a genius!”

“I mean, of course I am, but what did I do?”

She took the two shirts and examined the seams. “I might doom myself, but I can separate these shirts and re-sew them. Basically, making two new shirts!”

Plagg laughed maniacally. “Oh Marinette, my dear, that’s downright diabolical!”

Marinette blushed, but she smiled proudly. “I can probably do a couple of these shirts, as long as they’re the same style. It might take me a few days—“

Plagg hugged her from the side and kissed her cheek loudly and obnoxiously. “That would be amazing! Thank you Marinette!”

Gauging by the way the girl melted into the floor, Plagg assumed he had scored a few points.

—

#miraculous ladybug #ml #adrien agreste #plagg #adrien and plagg #marinette dupain cheng #body swap #adrienette #fanfiction #I'll handle this

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