#he’s always the first person to roll over and say yes to any bullshit client request without thinking about the creative work required

[asmolbirb]

.

[anakinsgirlfriendreal]

Parts Of The Truth

Masterlist

Chapter Three

Warnings: foul language, my bad writing, infidelity, kinda sad, angst.(I listened to the other woman while writing this)

You sat at your desk, looking into his office. The position of your desk offered a direct view into it. Chewing on your pen, your eyes locked on his form, he was in a meeting, standing as he spoke to a client; Gary or Gus something like that, you truly were assistant of the year. You watched as he spoke, the way his lips moved, the way he spoke with his hands, the way he stuck his tongue in his cheek, signaling he was annoyed. You watched and watched as you often did. Your mind wanders to what your mother had said, you wonder if she is right, maybe you were incredibly stupid, maybe you were naive but frankly, you didn't care.

It had been two weeks since he fired Henry, he filed it as some bullshit like poor work performance. Things were fine so far, Padme came in often; more often than she usually did, bringing him lunch and making him laugh,fixing his tie and kissing him before she left again. Things seemed good between them, though not good enough for him to stop coming over. He came over to your place three nights a week, always the same excuse "My kid needs me" liar, was he a bad father? No but he wasn't exactly good either, he came; made sure Darcy had what she needed, bribed her with toys and kisses so that she'd tell him if mommy ever had any friends over. You chew on your lip as you watched him, his eyes meet yours through the glass for a mere second before he goes back to half ignoring whatever proposal this Gary Gus guy was pitching. You wonder what he's thinking if his thought match your own-

"Y/n" Ahsoka's voice almost gives you a heart attack. You shake your head, freeing yourself of the thoughts that plagued you, looking at her.

"hm?"

She squints at you, she was practically your best friend; the first person to warm up to you when you'd started at the company and stuck by your side since. "You better hope no one else catches you making heart eyes at the boss" she teases, you scoff.

"I wasn't 'making heart eyes' I was...thinking and just zoned out on accident"

"Right. How's Darcy? I miss the little brat" she asks.

Your face lights up, you love your baby, the sweetest most magical little girl. "She's good, she's starting school soon. She's so excited, made me buy everything cause she can't wait, even though it's just pre-school" you chuckle thinking of how she had made you and your mom buy one of each box of crayons at the store in the mall.

Ahsoka shakes her head "she's better than me, I hated everyday of school, pre-school to highschool I cried nearly everyday."

You cringed. "College was even worse, best years of our lives my ass." Ahsoka opens her mouth to speak when she's interrupted by Padme's voice behind her.

"I didn't realize it was lunch and you could gather already." You fight back the urge to roll your eyes, Padme wasn't a bad person, she just annoyed you. Ahsoka sighs walking back to her desk, you smile at Padme, as politely as you could.

"How can I help Mrs. Skywalker?"

She smiles, "Sorry, is Anakin free?"

"Sorry he's-" you're cut off by Anakin's hand around Padme's waist, he kissed her on the side of the mouth. You turn away watching as Gary Gus makes his way to the elevator.

"Y/n, push my meetings for this afternoon to Monday." He orders you. You smile.

"Are you sure Mr. Skywalker? The Chandler meeting was supposed to be at 2 to discuss th-"

"I said push the meetings," he says harshly, his free hand forming a fist on top of your desk. You swallow the feeling of embarrassment and nod.

"Yes sir"

He eyes you for a second before leaving with Padme, ushering her out, his hand tracing down her spine, you roll your eyes as you watch them head out. You don't know why, but you felt the urge to cry, taking a deep breath you composed yourself fixing your focus back to work.

Soon enough the day was over and you couldn't be more grateful. You shrugged off your coat, kicking off your heels, Darcy was rambling about her day with her grandma. "That's good baby" you kiss her cheek, you scrunch your nose jokingly.

"You need to bath, you smell like a boy"

She giggles "thanks a lot mama." You chuckle, she looks up at you, with her big blue eyes that she inherited from her father, "Can you do bath time mama? Pleaseeee?" You smile at her.

"okay, but don't beg, you look like a puppy" you chuckle, she raises her arms celebrating, you scoop her into your arms, taking her to the bathroom. Bath time was something Darcy loved every Friday, where you'd fill the tub with bubbles, put on the coloured lights and wash her while she played with a toy. You'd thought she would have outgrown it but so far, she hasn't. You figured it was comforting for her, in the same way she liked to sleep in your bed and crawl under your shirt, you allowed it because you didn't plan to have another child and Darcy was only so small for so long.

After bath time, you made her a nice dinner, she'd asked for Mac and cheese and of course you gave in. You stood in the door way of her bedroom watching as she snuggled up with her teddy, she was quick to fall asleep; a thing you were grateful she did from the time she was born. She had always been a good baby, quiet and cute; you wouldn't call yourself a religious person, but she was for sure your blessing.

Finally able to unwind you laid on the couch, prepared to finish a bottle of wine, stuff your face and watch every episode of 'Shameless' but that plan was interrupted, when a knock hit your door in an all too familiar pattern. You roll your eyes as you open the door.

"What are you doing here?" You ask in a hostile tone as Anakin pushes past you and into the house.

"It's my house, I can stop by when I want" he stands in the living room, eyes scanning for the smallest hint that another man had been around of course he'd find none.

You scoff, "Right. How come Padme let you out" you settle on the couch again, he joins you, his hand on your thigh.

"She's asleep. We have fun" he smiles, you swallow the lump in your throat. His hand comes up to run over your hair, pulling you close. You let him, enjoying the moment while it lasted.

"We fought" he says. "She's uh...she's just in one of those moods, angry about nothing, I don't know. She's just...she just needs to cool down" he sounds sad, he didn't really speak about his marriage when he was with you and Darcy, this was the first time and he seemed genuinely upset. He sighs tiredly, settling comfortably into the couch, he holds you in his arm, his eyes close.

"I love you Padme" he says. Your eyes close, you feel the single tear drop roll down your cheek, unable to stop it.

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Booster

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Han and Fem!Reader x Bang Chan

Warnings: language, explicit smut, cheating, indecent affairs, very rich Bang Chan who can be exceedingly arrogant, mentions of alcohol and smoking; aged up characters (especially Chan)

Word Count: 11K

Genre: Marriage AU; Romance AU; Indecent Proposal AU

Summary: You love your husband more than anything else in the world, but the two of you have been arguing lately about your struggling financial situation. Things seem bleak until one night when your husband’s new boss makes you both an offer that you can’t afford to refuse.

A/N: If you’ve seen the movie “Indecent Proposal,” then you know how this goes, but I put my own little spin on the classic! Please enjoy!!

“Are you happy, Y/N?”

It was a deceiving question, basic in its premise and expectation, but you couldn’t help but falter at the unexpected doubt coloring your vision.

“I guess,” you said.

But why shouldn’t you be? You were in your prime, employed as a freelance writer, and married to your high school sweetheart,

Oh, wait...How could you forget?

You were also preparing to turn thirty-years-old in less than a week, your job wasn’t delivering stable work, and you and your husband had been arguing about the single-digit amount of savings in your join account since last year.

“That’s good to hear,” your therapist said, and you nodded even though it felt misplaced.

You both knew that it was bullshit, but since this was the last session you could afford together, your therapist was clearly trying to use up the rest of your time to her advantage. Maybe it was for the best since you hated seeing her face every Sunday afternoon. 

“Jisung and I are going to Vegas with his company,” you said, startling yourself with the unexpected confession.

“That’s interesting,” your therapist said, leaving the “considering how bad off the two of you are” to fill the empty silence. “I hope you have fun. Take some time to reconnect with him.”

Because surely she had heard enough of you complaining about how your husband could turn into the world’s biggest asshole sometimes when things weren’t going his way. Or when the easy parts of your personal life were feeling far too stressful to be considered healthy. “It’s nice to get away,” you decided to say in place of anything less amiable.

“Feel free to reach out if you ever need me,” your therapist continued, offering you her business card.

“Thanks,” you said, taking it from her with a sigh. “I guess that’s it then.”

“For now,” your therapist agreed, and you left the sterile-white building feeling more burdened than when you had arrived.

It was late when you got home, and you were even more exhausted than usual, laying next to Jisung in bed as soon as you had changed into comfortable night clothes.

“Do you want to fuck?” Jisung asked later on, taking off his reading glasses to look over at you as you concentrated hard on balancing next month’s budget, including all the money you had put aside for Jisung’s company retreat.

“Not right now,” you said.

“Whatever,” Jisung grumbled, and you ignored the pain in your heart as he turned around to face away from you, turning off his lamp to bathe half of the room in darkness.

“This is too important,” you tried to argue, but Jisung wasn’t listening, and it didn’t take long for him to start snoring.

But he never understood.

“Asshole,” you whispered, gathering your things to settle down in the living room instead. Where you continued working through the night, eyes glossing over from focusing on the numbers for too long, and you were drained the next morning, barely even comprehending Jisung leaving the house for work until you heard the car’s ignition from outside.

It was somewhat of a routine at this point, and you could feel the strain in your marriage, the distance between you and Jisung increasing the longer things continued to grow worse.

Your therapist would tell you to talk things out with him, but you really didn’t feel like arguing with your husband anymore. Instead, you pushed him out of your head and slept for a few more hours before getting up to start your freelance projects. It wasn’t anything difficult, and you finished most of the work by noon, leaving you to clean the house and wait by the phone in case a potential client called you with an assignment.

But the problem was the phone never rang, and you were hardly getting any work to support your shared household income.

It was a frequent point of contention, and Jisung had been begging you to take on a full-time position for months.

Maybe you should. 

Maybe it would make him happier.

But why did it feel like his happiness was always prioritized over your own?

Damn, you were starting to sound just like your former therapist.

“I made dinner,” you told him when he got home that evening, and even though it was obvious that he was wore-out, Jisung met you in the kitchen with a forced smile.

“It smells good,” he said, and there was a longing in his eyes, one that you also shared but could never fulfill.

And no amount of sex ever made it any better, but that sure as hell didn’t stop the two of you from trying to use it as an excuse to pretend that the problem didn’t exist elsewhere. “Shit, Sungie,” you gasped, nails digging into the smooth skin of his back as he fucked you on top of the counter, legs spread wide around his waist as he pummeled his hips into yours.

“Yes!” Jisung moaned, eyes rolling into the back of his head as your tight walls constricted around his length - pure, velvet warmth. “God, you’re perfect.”

“Harder!” you cried, trying to meet each of his thrusts, but finding it impossible to touch his animalistic pace, brutally stretching your pussy around him. The good kind of stretch that left you gaping long after you both came, lingering throughout the night and well into the morning as you limped around the house.

It ached and hurt, persistent and demanding, but there was always a desire for more, even when it was impossible to fulfill those empty places. But that didn’t stop you from trying, winding your fingers through Jisung’s hair to pull him closer, smashing your mouths together for a brutal kiss that only served to stoke the flames of passion sparking between the two of you. Something hot and raunchy, delicious in the exchanges of precious oxygen and the thin cord of saliva that remained when Jisung pulled back to look at you. “You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, parting your thighs around his hips as he studied the place where he was driving his cock between the delicate folds of your swollen labia. “Look at how well you take me.”

“Please,” you whimpered, unsure as to what you wanted from him, but it was always too much and never enough. 

“I want you to come first,” Jisung said, sucking the pad of his thumb into his mouth before bringing it down against your clit. 

“Oh!” you gasped because the secondary stimulation was proving to be the necessary catalyst to unwind you from the inside, and you could feel your orgasm growing stronger by the second. 

“That’s it, baby,” Jisung groaned, throwing back his head as he worked on moving his hips faster, thrusting his erection with as much power as he could manage while focusing on digging harsh circles against the tight little bud between your legs.

“Coming!” you cried, closing your eyes against the first wave of pleasure, moaning when Jisung lifted your legs higher around his waist, slamming his cock between your pulsating walls. 

It was a divine high, the kind that left a deep impression, riding the euphoria of your orgasm until you could feel your heart practically vibrating against your chest, leaving you breathless and throbbing in the place where Jisung continued to grind his cock. “I’m close,” he said, grunting as his hips stuttered in place, and you watched him fall over you as a familiar warmth escaped from where his cock was softening.

“S’ good,” you managed around a deep breath, trying to bring yourself back to Earth.

“You’re always so good for me,” Jisung said, eyes glossy with lust as he parted your lips around his fingers.

You puckered your lips, sucking hard and leaving him groaning. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

“I know, Y/N, and I love you,” Jisung said, holding himself up while panting over you, eyes dark and devoted.

“I love you too,” you replied on instinct, keeping him close while the two of you basked in the afterglow of your passionate lovemaking.

One Week Later

It was raining at the airport, but you were in a good mood while following Jisung through the crowded terminal. “Are you excited?” he asked you once you stood in line to board the plane.

“Of course,” you replied, accepting his gentle kiss before he held out your tickets for the flight attendant.

But why shouldn’t you be? You had never been to Vegas before, and you were beyond excited for the trip, even if it had been painful to budget with your lousy combined incomes. 

“I’m gonna treat you so good, baby,” Jisung whispered to you on the plane, finalizing his promise with another heart-stopping kiss.

“I love you,” you said, smiling when you heard the words in return.

It was always a promise that you could both keep, no matter how hard things got in your lives, and you could always rely on Jisung even when your own mind turned against you. Sure, it would be nice to have more financial stability, but the two of you would eventually achieve that goal, just as long as you kept working hard.

The idea of being happy all the time seemed impossible, and you were grateful for what you had, holding tightly to Jisung’s hand as he hailed down a taxi cab to take you to your hotel upon your arrival in Vegas.

“A couple’s retreat?” the driver asked when you were both settled inside.

“Something like that,” Jisung agreed, and it was half-way true, even if Jisung’s company was the main reason you were both enjoying the unfamiliar sights of the Vegas strip - blinding lights, crowded streets, and loud music. Everything was organized chaos, and you could see why so many people loved it.

“It’s beautiful,” you said to Jisung when your taxi cab arrived at your hotel.

“What do you want to do first?” Jisung asked, taking both of your suitcases as you led the way to check-in.

“Do you have to meet with your co-workers?” you asked, reminding yourself that this trip had a larger reason behind it.

“Not until the morning,” Jisung laughed, and he signed the copy of the room notice before dragging you to the elevators. “It’s you and me tonight, baby. Wanna check out the poker tables?”

You rolled your eyes because you both knew that Jisung had no idea how to play cards. “Looking around sounds nice.”

“Whatever you want,” Jisung promised, and after your things were settled in your lavish suite, he made good on escorting you around the impressive gambling floor - nothing but slot machines with bright color sequences and a vast expanse of tables with every kind of game you could want. 

It was almost too much to look at, and you were grateful to focus on one thing when Jisung paused next to the craps table. “Do you want to try?” you asked, smirking at the curious look in his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said, giving you a quick kiss before exchanging a twenty for some chips. “I’ll put it all on Pass.”

“Pass!” the dealer said, dragging Jisung’s chips closer. “Your roll.”

Jisung grabbed the dice from the table, bringing them closer to you with a smirk. “Kiss for good luck?”

You rolled your eyes, but entertained his request, brushing your lips against his knuckles before pulling back and watching him flick his wrist as the dice bounced across the table. “Seven!” the dealer announced, and you and Jisung were both surprised to win, watching as two piles of chips were pushed in your direction. 

“Holy shit!” you gasped, and Jisung nodded his agreement, taking all the chips before bidding the dealer a good night. “Did you see that?” you asked, unable to stop yourself from giggling as Jisung pocketed the chips. 

“I guess I have enough to treat you to a drink,” he said, and you followed him to the bar where he ordered you both something strong.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” you asked him, feeling far more jubilant than before as you downed most of the contents, wincing at the sting.

“You need to loosen up,” Jisung said. “I know you’ve been planning for the trip, so I want you to enjoy yourself.”

“Cheers to that!” you said, tapping your glass against Jisung’s and enjoying the rest of your drink.

And for a while, you actually found yourself letting go of all the worries leading up to the vacation, drinking and laughing with your husband as you played on some of the slot machines and observed some of the more serious poker games. 

The alcohol sat pleasantly on your stomach, and you were losing yourself to the buzz dulling most of your anxieties. “Jisung,” you said at one point, leaning closer to him as you sat together outside by the pool. “You look really good tonight.”

Jisung smiled, bringing you in for a kiss that turned heated despite the people surrounding you. “Slow down, baby,” Jisung said, breaking your exchange and ignoring your pout.

“Let’s go to the room,” you said, lowering your tone as you trailed one finger down his toned arm.

“Maybe later,” Jisung said, but he dangled the key in front of you. “If you want, then you can go upstairs.”

“You don’t want to come?” you asked with a pout.

“I’ve been watching,” Jisung admitted with a shrug. “I know we’ve been having a lot of problems with money, but I think I can take what we brought and turn it into enough to end most of our debt.”

“Jisung,” you said, sobering up in an instant. “What if you lose?”

“Don’t worry,” he said, and you could tell that he had already made up his mind. “I know when to stop.”

“Okay,” you agreed, but it was a reluctant acquiescence because you wanted nothing more than to have him in your arms. “I’ll see you later.”

“Have fun, baby,” Jisung said, and you frowned when he slid you his credit card. “Call room service and take care of yourself.”

“Sure,” you agreed, pocketing the card since you had no intention of using it. “Call me if you need anything.”

Jisung nodded, waving you off as he rose from his chair, and you watched with an overhanging sense of dread as he rejoined the crowded gambling room.

You waited for as long as you could, but midnight trickled by with no sign of your husband returning to the room.

Eventually, you must’ve fallen asleep from the excitement, and you only woke-up again the next morning when you attempted to reach out for Jisung in bed next to you, only to discover empty space.

“Sungie?” you said, filling the empty room with your voice.

But you could’ve sworn you had heard the door open at one point, so you dressed yourself and ventured out of the bedroom.

Your Vegas suite was fairly large, and the bedroom was connected to the main room by a narrow hallway with another room on the opposite end. Maybe Jisung had slept in the wrong room on accident?

It seemed plausible, until you heard the sound of someone moving around in the kitchen, and you quickly followed the noises to find your husband bent over the counter, head hanging low.

“Jisung, what’s wrong?” you asked, approaching your husband to soothe a hand down his back.

But you were completely unprepared for the way he began to lash out.

“I lost it, okay?” he snapped, jerking himself into an upright stance. “All the money we brought, I blew it on the slot machines.”

“Jisung-”

“Fuck, I can’t believe it!” Jisung shouted, interrupting your attempt to speak. “I was doing so well, and I didn’t even realize things were going bad until I almost used our bank card to pull out more money.”

You exhaled harshly, realizing that if Jisung had spent all of your money, then he also accessed some of your savings since you had brought extra cash in case of an emergency. “Oh my god.”

You stumbled back against the wall, holding your chest because you could feel the start of a panic attack taking root. But how else were you supposed to react to Jisung’s confession? He had spent all the money you would both need to pay rent and buy important necessities.

“This is so screwed up,” Jisung growled, rubbing a rough hand across his disheveled face. 

“That was everything,” you said, swallowing hard as your detail-oriented brain attempted to come up with an alternative, but you saw no light on the other end.

“Y/N,” Jisung said, and his voice was calmer as he looked at you. “I’m so sorry. I thought I could make things better.”

“But you made them worse,” you said, closing your eyes against an onslaught of tears, feeling as if your entire world was crashing down around you.

“Baby, no,” Jisung said, hurrying over to catch you before your body crumbled to the floor. “We’ll be okay, you know? I can always take out a loan.”

“To pay for the other loans?” you asked in a much harsher tone that you usually reserved for your husband.

“I promise I’ll make it better,” Jisung said, and he groaned when his phone started ringing. “It’s my boss again. He wanted to meet me in his room this morning.”

Jisung silenced the call, holding your face between his hands. “I promise nothing bad will happen to us, and maybe I can ask my boss for an advance on my next paycheck to help cover expenses.”

Your brain knew better than that, understanding that one paycheck wouldn’t cover those lost savings, but this was Jisung. Your sweet and kind husband, and you didn’t feel like arguing. “Okay,” you said, accepting the gentle kisses he pecked along your wet lashes.

“We’ll figure this out,” Jisung said. “But let’s not worry about it until we get back home. Can you put some clothes on for me, baby? I want you to come meet my boss with me.”

“Yeah,” you said, nodding your head as you allowed Jisung to lead you both back into the bedroom.

“Everything will be fine,” Jisung said, and you allowed him to delude your mind even though nothing could be further from the truth.

Jisung’s boss was a powerful man named Mr. Bang, and his net-worth made Jeff Bezos and Elon Musk pale in comparison.

You were nervous to meet him, and it didn’t help that you were still upset from earlier.

“Deep breaths,” Jisung instructed you when he knocked on Mr. Bang’s door. “Don’t worry about anything.”

It was easy for him to say since everything was his fault, but you swallowed down your anger and pasted on your best smile when the door opened - revealing an older gentleman with dark brown hair and eyes, wrinkles edging some of the corners of his features, exposing the effects of age.

But he was still undeniably handsome, and his eyes took a long moment to gloss over you. “Mr. Han,” Mr. Bang said, finally looking away from you. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Of course, sir,” Jisung said, placing his hand on your lower back as you were both invited inside. “It’s been a rough morning.”

“Oh?” Mr. Bang questioned, following you both into the main room. “Why is that?”

You held your breath when Jisung hesitated. “Just some money stuff.”

“Ah,” Mr. Bang acknowledged. “It’s personal.”

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Jisung insisted, and Mr. Bang shrugged off his coat as he accepted the reassurance, reaching for a pack of cigars.

“Well, I’m excited to talk with you this morning. Would you both like to join me in the other room? I heard that Jisung enjoys playing pool.”

“Absolutely,” Jisung agreed with a smile - one that managed to disguise all the horrible realities that existed outside of this impeccable suite.

You took another deep breath, fixing a smile in place when Mr. Bang turned to look at you. “This must be your wife.”

“Y/N,” you said, holding out your hand for him, and trying not to feel disconcerted by the obvious interest in his gaze.

“Y/N,” he repeated, looking back ahead of himself as he brought you both into a far simpler room - sparsely furnished with the exception of the pool table in the middle of the area. “Do either of you mind if I smoke? It’s a bad habit.”

He chuckled at the end, waiting for your combined approval before lighting one of the cigars and bringing it to his lips.

“You’re welcome to go first,” Mr. Bang said, selecting one of the pool sticks against the wall. “I’d love to be informal with you.”

“That sounds great,” Jisung said, and you watched him bend over the table as he broke the balls at the center, sending them flying in all directions. “I was really honored to receive your invitation.”

“Were you?” Mr. Bang asked with a smile. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“You’re a bit of an enigma around the office, Mr. Bang,” Jisung said, and his boss chuckled in response.

“Please, call me Chan,” he continued, taking his turn at the table after Jisung missed his shot, cigar dangling from his lips. “How are you both enjoying Vegas?”

“I think we’re having a lot of fun,” Jisung said, and the response irritated you a little as you cleared your throat, nose wrinkling as some of the cigar smoke reached you.

“It’s quite beautiful,” you said, and Chan found your eyes after landing his first shot.

“Yes, it is,” he agreed. “You know, Jisung, you talk about me being an enigma around the office. Why is that?”

You flinched at the sound of the balls smashing together, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you focused on your husband. “Well,” Jisung shrugged. “I think it’s because you have so much more than the rest of us. Not that it’s a bad thing.” 

“Really?” Chan asked, standing up straight as he shot you a knowing look. “You do have something that I don’t have.”

You found yourself blushing at the comment, and Jisung studied his boss with narrowed eyes. “I guess there’s a limit to what money can buy.”

“Not mine,” Chan said, putting out the cigar with a satisfied smirk. “I can afford anything.”

You didn’t like his attitude, finding yourself jumping into the conversation without being provoked. “Some things aren’t for sale,” you said, watching as Chan bent over the pool table once again.

“Like what?” he asked.

“Well, you can’t buy people,” you said, and he stood tall again with a sigh.

“That’s naïve of you, Y/N,” he said. “I buy people everyday.”

“I don’t mean in business,” you argued. “I meant something more like...when your emotions are involved.”

“So, you can’t buy someone’s love?” Chan questioned, and you didn’t like the way he was laughing. “Jisung, I hope you don’t feel the same way.”

“Of course,” Jisung said, shaking his head. “I agree with Y/N.”

“Really?” Chan smiled. “Then, maybe we should put that to the test.”

“What do you mean?” Jisung asked, and he exchanged a quick look with you - one filled with uncertainty.

“How much?” Mr. Bang asked.

“How much?” Jisung repeated, and he studied his boss with a confused expression. “What do you mean?”

Mr. Bang chuckled, and you frowned at the obvious condescension. “I mean, how much for one night with your wife?”

“Oh...” Jisung trailed off, and the room quickly filled with silence - awkward and heavy.

“Why so tense?” Chan eventually asked, and you shook your head because he knew exactly why the two of you were suddenly less than enthusiastic.

“You can’t be serious,” Jisung eventually said, reaction surprisingly neutral.

“I’m completely serious,” Chan continued, never breaking a sweat as he continued to take his turn at the pool table. “I’ll give you $1,000,000 dollars,” Chan said. “That would be enough to keep you in a life of luxury.”

“Sir,” Jisung said, and you could tell that he was caught off-guard, trying to find the right words to prevent offense to his boss, but you didn’t have to extend the same courtesy.

“No,” you said, keeping your tone firm. “He would tell you to go to hell.”

“I didn’t hear that from him,” Chan said, and you fixed Jisung with the sternest glare you could manage.

“Yeah,” Jisung said. “I’d tell you to go to hell.”

Chan sighed, pocketing the coveted eight ball with a quick motion. “I guess that proves me wrong, then,” Chan said. “But I’ll at least say this: $1,000,000 dollars is a lifetime of security. Think about it, talk it over first, and then you can forget all about this conversation.”

It should’ve been over after that without any further consideration, but you were disappointed to see that Jisung was still distracted as you sat together in your room later that night - long after leaving Chan’s suite.

“You’re still thinking about it,” you said, drawing his attention.

“Of course not, baby,” he said, but it wasn’t convincing.

“Would you seriously be okay with me spending the night with some pompous billionaire? you huffed. “He would obviously want to fuck me.”

“Well, I can’t say I blame him,” Jisung tried to joke, but the situation was far too serious.

“Sungie...”

“Look, I get it, Y/N. Marriage is sacred, and I respect you for that, but we both can’t ignore how much this would change our lives! It’s a million fucking dollars.”

“He’s an old perv,” you growled. “Would you seriously sell me out?”

“That’s not what this is,” Jisung argued. “I’m not selling you out.”

“Sleeping with a stranger for a million dollars is selling me out,” you said. “I don’t even like him...”

“It’s fine,” Jisung interrupted. “It was just a made-up scenario, and I would never force you to do anything.”

“Good,” you said, turning on your side to switch off the lamp. “He can’t just expect that from someone. It’s crazy!”

“I know, baby,” Jisung whispered quietly to you, and you knew that you were both exhausted from the chaos of your day together.

Sleep was what you needed, but it wasn’t coming. 

Instead, you were loathe to admit that your mind had returned to that indecent proposal from Jisung’s boss, thinking about the last thing he said.

One lifetime of security.

You would never have to worry about money again...but what about your relationship? Would it suffer because of such an illicit affair?

You tossed and turned all night, feeling Jisung do the same thing.

Think about it.

God, that’s all you were doing, and when the sun was starting to rise again from the coverage of your blinds, you rolled over to look at Jisung, unsurprised to see him wide-awake. “If we do this,” you said, “it wouldn’t mean anything.”

“Of course not,” Jisung said. “It would still be the two of us against the rest of the world.”

You nodded, studying the gentle brown of Jisung’s eyes. The weight of such a consequential decision hung over both of your heads, and you sucked up every last ounce of pride you had when you came to a conclusion: “Call him,” you said, and Jisung’s eyes widened. “Tell him we’ll take the money.”

“Y/N, are you sure?” Jisung asked, and he was cautiously reaching out for his cellphone.

“I’m sure,” you said, although you didn’t feel as confident as you would like, turning onto your back to study the ceiling overhead.

The date and time were arranged for the following evening, and you could barely meet Chan’s gaze when he met you outside his suite.

“Just relax,” he whispered to you, inviting you outside onto the extended balcony attached to his penthouse where he proceeded to pour two glasses of champagne.

The cold air of the night hit you in the face like a firm slap, forcing you from the haze you had surrendered to when you first walked into the room. A wake-up call that this was happening, and the man next to you was not your husband.

You nearly drained your first glass of champagne, feeling the alcohol give you some much-needed courage. “Y/N,” Chan said, standing next to you in a suit that likely cost more than your and Jisung’s last paychecks combined. “I want to ask you what your expectations are of this evening.”

You shrugged, staring out over the bannister. “I thought we were just gonna fuck,” you replied, even if the words were a little crude.

Chan laughed at your comment. “Is that so?”

“I don’t see what’s funny,” you said. “You’re the one who has to buy women.”

“You think I have to buy women?” Chan asked. “Because that couldn’t be further from the truth.”

You hesitated, sensing him growing closer. “Why me, then?”

“I bought you because you said you couldn’t be bought,” Chan replied, stepping closer to drop his hand on top of yours.

“I can’t be bought,” you argued, even though everything leading up to this moment was proving the contrary.

“Really?” he asked, and you begrudgingly shook your head.

“I don’t know why I’m doing this.”

“You might enjoy yourself,” Chan said with a seductive smirk. “This isn’t meant to be a punishment.”

“I know that,” you said, holding your breath when his lips touched the shell of your ear.

“Damn, you’re unbelievably gorgeous,” Chan said, and his free hand was trailing down your spine. “Come with me into the bedroom.”

You gave him a shaky nod, following him back inside while taking in several deep breaths as you greeted the darkness of the room, discarding your champagne on the side table. “What now?”

“Take off your dress,” Chan said, and you squinted your eyes to see him falling down into one of the chairs.

Despite the cold air of the night, everything inside was heating up again.

“Okay,” you whispered, reaching back for your zipper, and holding it between trembling fingers as you unhitched the material, allowing it to fall down your body like an avalanche of blue as it pooled around your ankles.

You heard Chan’s sharp intake of breath, feeling his eyes trail over every inch of your lingerie-clad form. “Get on the bed,” he said, and you obeyed at once, trying to make yourself comfortable on top of the mattress.

But it was hard when you noticed Chan approaching the bedside, removing his jacket and shirt to reveal a lean, muscular torso - one that had undoubtedly been built after long hours in the gym. “This is my favorite part,” Chan said, shoving down his jeans and boxers without shame, and his cock sprang up against his abdomen with an impressive girth. “I like to see the way a woman’s eyes look at me. How their breath hitches when I touch them for the first time.”

He followed through on his promise, sliding his fingers down the smooth skin of your stomach with a feather-like touch before they paused at the waistband of your panties. “Take these off,” he said, and you did your best to wrangle off the flimsy fabric, pushing it aside with your toes as Chan’s eyes zeroed in on your delicate mound. “When I fuck a woman, I make sure she comes...several times.”

You shivered at that, hearing his tone grow huskier as he instructed you to open your thighs, giving himself enough room to crawl on the bed and settle down between your open legs. It was already so revealing, and you couldn’t believe you were in this position, exposing everything to him. “Do you use protection?” he asked, and you nodded. “I’d like to fuck you raw, but only with your consent.”

You nodded again, gasping when his long, thin fingers started to carefully penetrate you, scissoring around your entrance - teasing curls that did nothing but trigger your body’s instinctual arousal. Especially as the room around you continued to grow warmer, almost as hot as Chan’s lips as they scalded your skin, lifting one of your legs higher against his arm.

“You deserve to be worshipped,” Chan whispered against your thigh. “If I had a woman like you, I’d do my best to make you happy.”

“Fuck,” you couldn’t help but curse, feeling him use his other hand to start moving his fingers even faster, gliding them against the greedy walls of your pussy as your body demanded you for more of the sweet addiction.

There was already a light sheen of sweat forming on your skin, and your heart was beating faster and faster, matching the pace of his fingers. Eventually, he leaned down to take your clit between his lips, dropping your thigh back onto the mattress before sucking hard and swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud. 

You gasped, hips arching without your approval, grinding closer to the source of that immeasurable pleasure. It was wet and sensual, creating the gentlest of sensations that traveled all the way to your toes.

You could feel Chan smirking, lips barely touching your clit before he properly opened his mouth wide to lave his tongue across the throbbing area. It felt so good, and you were practically humping his face to gain more of his delicious mouth.

He was learning your signs, hands holding your waist as he listened to every hitch of your breath, knowing when to speed up and slow down. It was like a well-rehearsed dance, swipes of his tongue across your folds, pressing firmly against your clit when he returned to the delicate organ. 

It felt like pure heaven, bringing you higher and higher to a much-needed release, and it had been a long time since a man had made you experience such white hot lust from just his tongue.

“Cum for me,” Chan whispered, and he nipped at your clit, and the tinge of pain was enough to send you spiraling into your first orgasm of the night.

“Oh!” you groaned, grabbing his hair to pull him back when his sucking was starting to feel too painful right after coming so hard.

“What a good girl,” Chan said, looking down at you with a sheen of arousal coating his lips. 

It was obscene, forcing you to close your eyes against the image, but you cried out when he pinched one of your nipples, causing you to open them again. 

“Do me a favor and look at me while I’m fucking you, Y/N,” Chan murmured, hooded gaze meeting your struggling one - trying not to succumb to his advances, even though he was making it incredibly hard, wrist almost imperceptible with the way he was stretching you open again, pussy gaping as you felt yourself leaking uncontrollably.

“I’ll try,” you whispered, heart thundering against your chest as Chan removed his fingers only to align his cock with your entrance, dipping just the tip into your eager heat.

“Moan for me as much as you want,” Chan said, and he was bottoming out without hesitation, moving slow to prevent any pain while you got used to the stretch.

It was different from how Jisung fucked you, thrusting into you impossibly fast from the very first moment he impaled you on his cock. 

There was something caring about it, and you adjusted quickly to Chan’s girth, grinding your hips subtly just to feel very inch of his generous erection. “Good girl,” Chan cooed, and he brought his cock to a deeper roll, moving back to leave only the head before forcing himself inside once again, picking up speed as your moans continued to grow louder in volume, signaling your approach to a second release.

It was beyond amazing, and you swallowed down your embarrassment from the noises he was punching from your lungs, opening your eyes as he started to move even faster, thrusting his cock between your legs at a rhythmic pace.

He was hitting your g-spot on every deep penetration, granulating in and out at a steady pace that was so unbelievably fulfilling.

You never expected it feel this good, slick from your pussy gushing at an embarrassing rate, creating an even smoother slide. But the squelching sounds were incredibly loud, filling your ears just like his cock was filling your cunt...the best kind of fullness.

You were being stroked just right, moaning when Chan shifted his hips to thrust into you at a new angle, holding your legs over his shoulders as he practically bent you in half.

His lips were warm when they connected with yours, and there was a strange desire to sink into the kiss and lose yourself there forever. But your pussy was throbbing with need - an impossible want for the man reaching all the way to your cervix.

It felt amazing when his fingers brushed across your sensitive clit, rubbing generous circles against the tight nub. He started snapping his hips at a faster rate, slapping against your hips with every thrust, holding onto your hips with a bruising grip that would leave reminders of him for days. 

But maybe that was his intention.

Chan growled, plunging into your sore cunt time and time again. He was practically pounding you with how hard he was going, like he was trying to prove a point, and maybe he wanted to since nothing could have ever prepared you for how euphoric his cock was making you feel.

“Are you gonna cum again?” Chan whispered, gazing so fondly into your eyes.

You couldn’t speak, only managing a nod when he started to rub even faster at your clit, and you let out the loudest moan of the night when you were unraveling yet again, sinking into a third orgasm that left you drained.

It was a rollercoaster of overstimulation, and Chan realized this and gave a few stuttered kicks of his hips before he was filling you up with his cum, groaning and grunting as he leaned over you.

Your legs were numb from being spread wide for so long, and you weren’t sure that you would ever catch your breath, listening to the sound of Chan whispering sweet endearments from next to you as you realized that nothing would ever be same after this.

The next morning, you woke-up alone, but there was a note waiting for you on the nightstand.

Y/N,

Join us in the kitchen when you’re ready.

- Chan

“Us?” you repeated aloud, feeling a sense of dread as you stumbled on weak legs to gather your clothes.

You were incredibly sore between your legs, a reminder that last night actually happened, and you had slept with your husband’s boss for a big paycheck.

“It’s worth it,” you tried to reassure yourself, walking from the bedroom and into the kitchen with a subtle limp. “Nothing will change.”

But hindsight is 20/20, and you can’t predict the future. Still, your first sign should’ve been the strange image of Chan and Jisung sitting together in the kitchen, like they were having a casual breakfast together,

“There you are!” Chan greeted you upon your arrival, but you barely paid him any attention, eyes immediately finding Jisung’s.

Your husband was sitting next to Chan at the table, and there was a buffet of food displayed on elegant kitchenware. “What’s going on?”

“Breakfast,” Chan said, indicating towards the empty chair next to Jisung. “Please join us.”

You nodded, finally breaking your intense stare-down with Jisung to carefully sit down next to him.

Suddenly, it was difficult to acknowledge his presence, memories of last night resurfacing and causing you to blush at the obscene images. “I hope you slept well,” Chan said, and his plate was completely covered as he ate without a single care in the world. “Last night...it was amazing, Y/N.”

You could feel Jisung shift from next to you, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to look at him. “Chan-”

“As promised,” Chan interrupted as he reached into the pocket of his expensive suite jacket, producing a thin slip of paper, and he slid the check in Jisung’s direction. “Thank you both for everything.”

“Sure,” Jisung said, and his tone was short as he grabbed the check and immediately stood from the table. “We should get going.”

“So soon?” Chan questioned, mouth stuffed impossibly full. “You’re more than welcome to anything you want.”

“We’re fine,” Jisung insisted, and he took your hand with a firm grip. “I know you’ll understand, Mr. Bang.”

“Ah!” Chan grinned. “Formalities again?”

But Jisung ignored him, turning to look at you with a gleam in his eyes that you couldn’t decipher. “Let’s go home,” Jisung said, and he tried for a smile which you couldn’t match as he led the two of you as far from Bang Chan as you could manage.

Tragically, your return home was nothing triumphant, and it should’ve felt so good to finally pay off so many bills and debts.

But it didn’t.

Everything felt hollow inside.

You also couldn’t help but notice that it was becoming increasingly difficult to talk to Jisung. Because every time you looked into his eyes, you were reminded of your impassioned affair in Vegas. It wasn’t fair to either of you, but you had no idea how to fix your relationship.

How could this be fair? You no longer had money problems forcing that divide between the two of you? In fact, you had no problems at all, and you were both entertaining the idea of moving into a bigger place and quitting your jobs.

So, what was missing? What was wrong with the way things were now that your joint account was filled to the maximum?

The answer was obvious, but you both refused to talk about it, and every second spent in each other’s company only served to carve an even deeper rift. Something so painful that you could barely share the same bed as your husband.

You couldn’t believe that things were so bad, even a month after your night with Chan, and nothing was going right. But what could you do? There was no easy solution, and it certainly didn’t help when you received a phone call from an unknown number one morning, accepting it with hesitation, only to be greeted with a strikingly familiar tone: “Hello, Y/N,” Chan said from the other end, and you immediately sat down on the edge of your bed.

“Chan?”

“How are you?” Chan asked with a pleasant tone. “I thought I might check in on my favorite couple.”

You frowned at his mocking tone. “Thanks, but we’re fine.”

“I’m glad to hear that! And I hope the money goes a long way for you and Jisung,” Chan said, and you clenched the phone tighter between your hands.

“It’s been helpful,” you said, even though the words didn’t seem to match the life you were currently living.

“Well, I’m in town for lunch this afternoon,” Chan continued. “I thought it might be nice just to catch up with you. Would you care to join me?”

You hesitated, looking around your empty bedroom with desperate eyes. “I don’t know if that’s the best idea...”

“Oh, please it’s just one lunch,” Chan said, and it was almost impossible to resist him. But that must be why he was such a good businessman. “One lunch.”

You sighed, already feeling yourself giving in to him. “One lunch,” you agreed, parroting back the response because it felt like your body was moving on auto-pilot, having lost the familiar spark ever since you came back from Vegas.

Chan’s chosen location was a gorgeous downtown restaurant that had more Michelin stars than the places you sometimes watched on TV.

It was beyond elegant, and you found Chan waiting for you at the door after having a car bring you to him. “Good morning,” he said with a cheeky tone, meeting you halfway as he offered his arm to you - the perfect gentleman.

“This was unexpected,” you said, allowing him to escort you inside, greeting the man at the front who seemed to instantly recognize Chan, leading you both to a private room away from the others.

“I wanted to do this,” Chan said. “I thought we could talk a little.”

“Is that it?” you asked, taking the menu and gaping at the immense prices.

Chan seemed to notice, smiling at your awed expression. “Have anything you want,” Chan said. “I’m buying.”

“Oh, I can’t possibly let you do that...” you said because then it would feel like a date, and that was as far from what you wanted as possible.

“Don’t concern yourself,” Chan said. “Everything is good here, and you deserve it.”

You weren’t sure that you liked the sound of that, but you didn’t complain as you requested that he order something for both of you instead of trying to interpret the gauche-sounding entrees. 

“Now,” Chan said once your waiter left the room. “Let’s talk about you.”

“Me?” you questioned, sipping gingerly at your water glass. “What about me?”

“I want to know everything,” Chan said. “All of it.”

“Everything?” you repeated, shrugging as you blushed. “There’s not much to tell.”

“I can hardly believe that,” Chan said. “What about your job?”

“I’m a freelance writer,” you said, nodding when you realized that he was genuine. “Kinda hard in the city though.”

“But you’re doing what you love?” Chan asked, and he grinned at your confirmation. “Then that’s all that matters.”

Could it be so simple? you wondered, remembering all the countless arguments you and Jisung had shared because, according to him, your job was hardly considered career-worthy. “I love writing.”

“Then you must be a big reader,” Chan remarked. “All the best writers are.”

You swooned at his smooth conversation. “I have shelves full of the classics.”

“What’s your favorite?” Chan asked.

“Jane Eyre,” you admitted, and Chan raised a brow.

“I like that about you,” he said. “It fits: the idea of a bright young woman falling in love with the enigmatic billionaire.”

You met his gaze, recalling how Jisung had aligned the term “enigmatic” with Chan on the night you made your unholy deal. Was there a deeper meaning, then? “I love the prose,” you replied instead, thinking the subject might return to Chan. 

But it never did. In fact, Chan kept all the questions about you, engaging you in a way that you had never experienced with another man. Like he cared so much about the person underneath, and his probing gaze was seeing past the outside in a way that spoke to your very soul.

And you couldn’t help but compare him to Jisung: a very dangerous thing to do.

“That was nice,” you said after you had both eaten. “It was good to see you again.”

“I agree,” Chan said, ever the businessman as his hand fell low around your waist, taking you back outside the restaurant. “Should we make plans for tomorrow?”

You almost laughed, until you read his expression and realized that he was serious. “What?”

“Y/N,” Chan said, and his tone was intense. “I can’t stop thinking about Vegas.”

“Chan,” you whined, trying to pull away, but his hold was firm. 

“If you were with me,” Chan purred, and it was a lethal sound that was as smooth as the hand traveling up and down your back. “I could give you everything you wanted and more.”

“I can’t,” you insisted, and there was an image of Jisung in your head when you managed to escape him. “That was only one time.”

“I think you and I both know that it meant more than that,” Chan said, and you could deny it all you wanted, but there was an insistent throbbing at the back of your skull.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you lied, ignoring the scoff that escaped him while calling for the valet to bring the car Chan had organized for you.

“At least take my business card,” Chan said, and he was holding the small piece of printed paper out for you, but you knew that going down that path would only make things worse.

“I can’t accept it,” you said, returning your attention to the valet as he opened the back door.

“That’s a shame,” Chan said, but he was as persistent as ever, leaning close to press a kiss across your cheek. “You can always call me. If you ever need anything.”

You nodded, feeling somewhat disoriented as you sat down against the leather seat, swallowing hard when you could still see Chan from the rearview mirror.

By the time you returned home, it was already late, and you were glad to see Jisung when you sat your purse down onto the counter. “Hey,” you said, and Jisung glanced up from where he was reading the newspaper.

“Hey,” he replied. “How was lunch?”

You swallowed hard because you hadn’t told Jisung who you ate lunch with. “It was good.”

He nodded - a short dismissal, and it you decided to freshen up in the bathroom, taking a quick shower just to wash off the lingering traces of Chan.

But maybe it was foolish to think that water could wash away everything that had happened - those traces would never simply vanish.

When you walked back out into the main room, you were stunned to see Jisung putting on his coat. “Jisung,” you said, watching your husband rush around the living room. “Are you busy?”

“Just gong to meet some friends,” Jisung replied. 

Distracted. Uninterested in you.

“Oh,” you said. “I thought we could spend some time together?”

“Yeah?” Jisung snorted, and you were shocked to hear him sound so abrasive...at least until he marched up to you waving around a business card. “And what the fuck is this, huh? I found it in your bag.”

He flung the card at you, and you sighed when you saw Chan’s name at the top - he must’ve snuck the card into your purse when you weren’t looking. “It’s nothing,” you said, but Jisung only laughed - a sound devoid of all humor. “Why the fuck are you going through my things?”

“Does it matter?” he huffed. “You can’t get enough of him, can you?” he asked, and you were like a tea kettle that had been sitting on the burner for way too long - practically erupting from the top.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“What do you think?” Jisung smarted back. “You’re obviously still seeing him, spreading your legs for his cock like a bitch in heat. I guess one night wasn’t enough for you.”

“How dare you!” you yelled, getting right in Jisung’s face. “You want to know what happened? He slipped the card into my purse when I met him for lunch today, but I had never even spoken to him until then.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Jisung spat, narrowing his eyes. “You’re a fucking whore, Y/N. Throwing yourself at a rich man like Bang Chan just because he can buy you nice stuff.”

“What’s money got to do with anything?”

“It obviously means everything!” Jisung shouted. “It’s what got us into this fucking mess into the first place.”

“You mean, the mess you made when you gambled all our money away?” 

“Are you really going to throw that back in my face?” Jisung seethed. “I was trying to make things better for us!”

“Good job,” you snickered. “Since we’re so fucking happy together.”

“What do you want from me?” Jisung asked, throwing up his arms. “I’m obviously the biggest asshole in the world.”

“I’m glad you can admit it,” you said. “Did you ever stop to think that all that I’ve done up to this point has been for you?”

Jisung paused, opening his mouth to retaliate, but then wisely deciding to let you continue. “Did I want to go to Vegas?” you asked. “No, but I went because you wanted to impress your company, and I know you wanted to do things right, but we should’ve both known better than to bet against the house. We lost everything, and in that moment of desperation, you pressured me into sleeping with another man, and I can’t think about anything else but him whenever I look at you.”

Jisung was stunned at the admission, all traces of anger gone from his expression. “Y/N,” he said. “I had no idea.”

“Yeah?” you said, voice quivering as you wiped away your tears. “Well, now you do.”

Jisung bowed his head, and you decided that you were done waiting for something to change, marching into your bedroom to grab your phone and dialing the first number you remembered.

“Chan,” you whispered when he greeted you on the other end. “Can I come over?”

There was only a split second of silence before Chan’s voice was soothing the raging storm inside of you. “I’ll send a car.”

It was almost midnight when your driver pulled up outside of a lavish home in the suburbs: huge, towering columns and Greco-Roman architecture making the place seem more like a mausoleum.

But it wasn’t the home itself that brought you comfort; rather, the people living within it who always made things seem safe and welcoming, and Chan was sure to greet you at the door, opening his arms wide to accept your embrace. “Was it a bad fight?” he asked, and you nodded while wondering how he could’ve possibly picked up on the fact that you and Jisung had been arguing again.

Maybe he just had good intuition when it came to you, and you appreciated the understanding, allowing him to bring you into an enormous den, settling you against the couch next to him while a fire blazed in the background. “I made tea,” Chan said, reaching for the two cups waiting on the ornamental table filling the empty space at the center of the room.

“Thanks,” you said, finding your eyes drawn to the neat stack of papers that had been sitting next to the cups.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Chan asked, relaxing one arm around your shoulders, bringing you against his much-needed warmth.

“We just don’t get along anymore,” you said. “I thought having money would fix things, but everything is worse.”

“Really?” Chan asked, and he seemed to consider your words. “It might seem like a good thing, and from the standpoint of a businessman, money is a very powerful motivator.” He smiled, looking down at you with eyes glowing from the flames. “But money isn’t the solution when it comes to the people you love.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, but you had also started picking up on that yourself. “Were you busy with something?”

Chan followed your gaze, reaching out for the papers that had drawn your attention from the very first moment you sat down. “These?” Chan chuckled, and he slid them to the edge, allowing you to read the fine print across the cover. “Divorces are complicated, aren’t they?” Chan asked, and you hesitated when you realized what he was implying. “But if you have enough money, then anything is possible.”

“Chan...” you trailed off, vision blurring at the edges and making the letters bleed together - a cacophony of meaningless jargon. “What are you trying to say?”

“You’re unhappy,” Chan said, and it was an observation that wasn’t difficult to make after all that had happened. “I guess I just don’t want you to be associated with the person causing that unhappiness.”

“You want me to leave Jisung?” you said, breathing in and out because it wasn’t a simple decision that one could make on the spot - not after years of living with someone who had become a central part of your existence.

It was too much to bear, and Chan’s presence was almost suffocating, breaths heavy against the side of your neck as he whispered in your ear. “Why should you stay with him? With or without money, he can’t seem to make you smile.”

You trembled at his closeness, choking around a sob even though the atmosphere between the two of you was suddenly charged with something electric. “And then what?”

“Well, after Jisung signs them,” Chan said, and his tongue traced the lobe of your ear. “I’d love to have you for myself.”

“O-oh,” you stuttered, closing your eyes as he took you into his arms, doing nothing more than holding you, but the feelings bubbling below the surface of your skin told you more than actions or words ever could.

The next morning, Chan had his driver take you back to the apartment you shared with Jisung.

The apartment was strangely quiet, and you left the divorce papers on the table in the kitchen while you went to shower, wanting nothing more than the scalding water to provide a temporary numbness to the confusion you felt in every fiber of your being.

It was a much-needed reprieve, and when you walked back into the kitchen, you were surprised to see your husband at the table, eyes downcast. “Come sit with me, Y/N.”

You swallowed hard when you realized he was searching through the divorce papers, but you weren’t met with his anger; instead, Jisung just seemed really sad, and that was much worse. “You weren’t supposed to see that,” you said, but your husband just smiled and shook his head. 

“I knew you wouldn’t come back home for nothing,” he said, sliding out the chair next to him as an invitation. “Why should you? I treated you like shit the other night.”

“We both said some really cruel things,” you said, joining him with a sigh. “Things spiraled out of control.”

“I can see that,” Jisung said, tapping his fingers against the papers. “Let’s talk about what happened.”

You shivered at the thought. “I don’t think we should-”

“No,” Jisung interrupted, but it was a gentle chide. “It’s important, so hear me out.”

It would be so hard, but you still agreed. “Okay.”

“The whole mistake in Vegas wasn’t the money,” Jisung said. “No, money might’ve caused our problems, but the mistake wasn’t wanting something to make our lives better. The real mistake was me thinking that I could just forget about it after we left. That I could easily forgive us both...What’s that old saying? What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas?” Jisung laughed, but it was bitter sounding. “Bullshit, right?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Bullshit.”

Jisung smiled. “People in love stay with each other, not because they try to forget the wrong parts, but because they’re capable of forgiving the bad. And I couldn’t do that because I thought you would want Chan after that night...that you would be right to want him. He’s so much better in every way, the better man for someone wonderful like you. But by the time I realized that it wasn’t true, that he was only better because he had more money, everything had spiraled.”

He was quiet after his confession, struggling to hold back his tears as he clicked open one of our pens and brought the papers closer. “If you really want the divorce, then I’ll give it to you,” Jisung said. “I just want you to be happy.”

Why should you stay with him? With or without money, he can’t seem to make you smile.

“Jisung...” you trailed off, unsure if there was anything you could do to change the look in his eyes.

“I’ll always love you,” Jisung said, and it was the same promise as always, but you watched with a heavy heart as he signed his name in cursive as the bottom of the form.

The divorce papers felt like an added weight in your bag as you marched into the office building of SKZ Enterprises.

It was ridiculous, really. They were just papers, made in a factory and mass-produced to be sold in stores.

But it was the symbolism they carried, the significance of Jisung’s name scribbled at the bottom of the final page that had you faltering.

Your heart was hurting, and you forced a smile when you greeted Chan’s secretary at the corner next to his big, corporate office. “I’m here to see, Mr. Bang,” you told the secretary. “Tell him my name is Y/N.”

“Of course,” she said, and you watched her disappear into the office, giving you a few critical moments to collect your thoughts.

Until you heard his voice again:

“Y/N?” 

You startled at the sound of Chan’s voice, seeing him standing in front of you with a million-dollar smile on his weathered face. “Come inside?”

“Yes,” you agreed, following him into the office with the door shutting firmly behind you.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” Chan said, grabbing you hand and pressing a kiss to your lips. “Is something wrong?”

“We need to talk,” you said, and Chan’s smile disappeared.

“That doesn’t sound good,” he said, chuckling as he invited you to sit down in one of the expensive chairs next to his desk. “Do you need anything? I can call for some tea.”

“No,” you said, deciding it was better to get straight to the point as you reached into your bag to bring out the divorce papers stapled together.

“This could either be good or bad,” Chan remarked, accepting them from you and quickly turning to the last page, expression falling. “I see.”

“I can’t sign them,” you said, and there was something powerful in your tone that had even Chan admitting defeat.

“Damn,” Chan sighed, eyes boring a hole into the pages. “This is the worst news I’ve gotten.”

“I talked to Jisung,” you explained. “Just looking at him and entertaining the idea of leaving forever...I couldn’t do it.”

Chan finally tore his gaze from the papers, meeting yours with disappointment. “I take it he said something to change your mind.”

“I don’t know if he changed my mind,” you admitted. “Rather, I think his love and forgiveness made me see reason with what I was doing.”

“Ah,” Chan said. “I think we’ve come full circle, Y/N.”

“What do you mean?”

“When you told me that all the money in the world couldn’t buy your love,” Chan said, and there was something that resembled respect reflected in his eyes. “You were right all along.”

You ducked your head, unable to maintain such intensity. “I’d like to give you that money back, Mr. Bang. My husband and I can manage on our own.”

“Oh, please, I’d be insulted if you did that,” Chan said, and he held out his hand for you to shake. “You know I’m a good businessman, so consider this an opportune long-term investment in something I’m supporting.”

You were full of gratitude, swallowing back tears as you nodded. “Thank you.”

“”There’s no need for that,” he said. “I’ll always be here for you.” The sentiment was matched by the gentle brushing of his lips across your cheek, and you could feel the last reminder of Chan even after leaving his office for the first and final time.

You were carrying takeout up the stairs, feeling lighter on your feet than you had in months.

The weight of your burdensome worries was gone, and you knocked with a little too much enthusiasm on the front door to your apartment.

“Y/N?” Jisung questioned, and there was an obvious look of surprise on his face when he opened the door. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” you reminded him with a cheeky smile. “I brought food.”

Jisung’s eyes moved to the bag in your hand, nodding once before allowing you inside. “I thought you were going to see Chan.”

“I did,” you said, leading him into the kitchen. “There were some things to discuss.”

“I see,” Jisung said, watching you with a wary expression as you presented him with his favorite Italian special.

The suspense was killing you, and you desperately wanted to see the frown leave his lips. “I didn’t sign the papers,” you said, sitting down at the table with a wearied sigh. “I couldn’t.”

“Really?” Jisung asked, clearing his throat at the hitch in his voice, but you were just trying to hide your smile at his boyish charms.

“Have I told you that I love you recently?” you asked, looking at him with way too much fondness.

Jisung paused, chopsticks poised in hand. “You do?”

“Always,” you affirmed, and you were unprepared for the first of Jisung’s tears to fall, endearing him even more to you if that was possible. “I’m happiest with you,” you told him, reaching out to wipe away those rebellious tears.

“I’ve always felt that way,” Jisung said, getting himself back under control as he pushed away his food and patted his lap. “Come here.”

You were more than happy to oblige, climbing into his lap to wrap your arms around his neck, playing with the ends of his hair while searing your lips together in a kiss that promised so much more from the one true love of your life.

[goodwriterwithbadhabits]

Love Letters

I have no idea how this turned out, I opened a word doc, blacked out and ended up with this. 

Master List

~~ “I would write you poems until my hands worked no more. Would play you music until my fingers bled. Shakespeare himself would have to rise from his tomb to stop me writing you sonnets. No words will ever convey the love which spills from my heart, but I will try to do so every day.” Johnny reads the letter loud, a smile on his face as he looks over at you. You’re certain your face conveys the sheer horror you’re feeling, and judging from the laughter that bubbles from him, it does. You’re frozen in the doorway of your own dorm room, staring at the man lounging in your desk chair, the man who’d just found your second best kept secret. “So, how much does it cost to get one of these letters?” 

“What are you doing?” His eyebrow hikes up at your question, and he gestures to the stacks of envelopes and the typewriter sitting on your desk. 

“You’re the one writing all the love notes around campus right? What if I want to send one to someone?” You blink at him a few times, still in shock, but step into the room properly and shut the door. 

“How’d you find out about this? Who told you?” You question, dropping your backpack on the floor and crossing your arms over your chest. He mimics your pose, though still in your chair. 

“Who said anyone told me?” He challenges, “I figured it out.” 

“Bullshit. I’ve been doing this for almost two years and no one’s been the wiser. The only people that know are my customers, so who told you?” He’s silent for a moment, not pretending not to size you up. You can feel your heartbeat in your chest, and part of you wants to celebrate having your crush alone in your dorm room, but the other part of you remembers he’s here for a love letter, not you. 

“Are you going to stop writing for them if I tell you?”

“Maybe, or maybe I’ll just revoke their long term customer pricing. Who was it?”

“Yuta.” Your eyes roll automatically at the name, you should have known it was him. 

“Of course it was. Did he refer you, or did he just tell you?” Johnny shrugs, clearly loving how annoyed you’re getting. 

“Maybe both. You haven’t answered my question.” 

“One time letters to someone are 25, self letters are 35. If you’re wanting a long term contract it depends on the frequency of the letters, contents and subject.” You finally relent, trying not to let the disappointment cloud your voice. 

“What’s the most expensive contract you have?” You motion for him to get out of your chair, which he shockingly does, so you can grab your clientele binder and find your contract sheets. He flops down on your bed while you work, watching you flick through the almost shockingly thick binder. 

“Someone pays me 75 dollars every other month to write three page long letters to send to his girlfriend overseas.” You tell him, pulling out a contract, “This contract is legal, by the way, I had a friend of mine in law school draft it. I only write the letters, I don’t deliver them and I am not responsible for the reaction of the recipient. You can’t get me in legal trouble if things backfire, nor can you demand a refund. You cannot ask for personal information about other clients, and no I won’t tell you if you’re giving a letter to someone who is already receiving letters. Any questions?” You finally look up from your contract, locking eyes with the boy sitting on your bed. 

“Would you handwrite a letter for me, or is it typewriter only?”

“I try not to handwrite letters, just in case someone might recognize my handwriting.” He smiles again, and you have to look away, trying not to blush. God, how did you get so unlucky? When you had started writing these letters, it was because of your crush on Johnny. Your roommate freshman year had found a letter you’d never planned to send and asked if you would write one for her to give to the girl she liked. From there, your little business blossomed, and now you had upwards of 30 clients, all paying you to write about Johnny without knowing. 

“Do I have to tell you who my letter is for?” 

“Nope, all you have to tell me is whether you know them personally or not, and if there’s something about them you want me to talk about.” You drop your binder on the desk, turning to face him once more. “I’ll also need your contact info, phone number or email preferably. I take cash, venmo, and cashapp, you have to pay before your first letter, and if you make it a long term thing, then you pay upon receiving the letter.” He nods, his lower lip sticking out slightly. 

“OKay, lets do one letter for now, and depending on their reaction, we’ll see about sending more.” 

“No problem, just fill this out for me, and we’ll get started.” You pass him the contract and a clipboard to write on. “For the first letter, I always have my clients tell me about the person they’re wanting me to write about, that way if you meet face to face, the letters still sound like you.” 

“What’s your major again?” 

“Psychology, with an English Lit minor.” 

“Makes sense.” The two of you are quiet for a moment while he fills out the form, and you take the chance to package some letters, ironically, one was for Yuta, who was definitely getting a scolding when he came to pick it up. “Alright here.” You don’t look at him, only extend your hand for him to place it in. You can feel him watching you as you finish up your work, marking who still has to pay for your work. “So, have you ever written a letter for someone, like from you?”

“Yes and no.” You weren’t sure why you even answered. 

“What do you mean?” You sigh, putting your papers away so you can move the typewriter front and center. 

“Every letter I write is about the person I like, that’s how it started.” You explain, “Yeah, it sounds like I’m writing about someone else, but it’s always about him.” 

“Ever had to write one for him?” You can tell he’s actually interested in this, but you shake your head, not wanting to talk about it more. 

“Don’t worry about my love life, Johnny, lets work on yours.” You grab a notebook, spinning to face him, ready to take notes. “Tell me about your person.” 

If you told me you were Eros, I would believe you. From the moment I saw you, the arrow of love had pierced my heart and rendered it useless to all others. Were you a god, I would be your most devoted priest. My lips would sing your prayers and praises until there was no oxygen left at your altars. Your mind rivals that of Shakespeare and Einstein, and I wish on every star that one day I may be privy to your innermost thoughts. Your eyes hold the universe, and your hands: my heart. You fill my dreams, and soothe my nightmares. Had I an ounce more courage, I would say these words to your face, but in truth, no words could accurately depict the love I have for you. It bubbles from my heart, courses through my veins and clouds my mind. I would give you the world, the moon and all the stars in the sky if you only asked, but now I can only give you this letter and hope you will not think ill of me. Yours ever, Johnny

“Here, all done.” Johnny barely has the chance to knock on your door the following day before you’re shoving the lilac envelope in his hands. “It’s not super long, but it’s pretty expressive, if you want more just let me know, I hope they like it.” You don’t give him the chance to reply, instead just shut the door and try not to start crying instantly. Every word you had said was true, and he was about to give it to some rando. You wanted to cancel every other letter people had asked for, so tired of writing about a love you couldn’t have. A knock on your door makes you huff, just wanting to lay down for a while. “What?” You demand, swinging the door open to find Johnny still standing there. He holds the envelope out to you, his other hand deep in his pocket. 

“Here.” 

“Do you not like it? I can rewrite it.” You offer, hesitating to take it. No one had ever hated what you’d written, to say it was a bit of an ego crusher was an understatement. 

“No. No it’s amazing, its everything I wanted to say. You did an amazing job.” He extends his hand again, not looking you in the eye. “But its for you.” 

“What?” 

“When I learned it was you-” He huffs, “Look, I’ve had a thing for you since English 101. You’ve always been super smart and gorgeous, but I’ve been too scared to say anything cause you were always writing these sweet things, and I figured they’re for someone else, so I didn’t want to pressure you into something. But I might not get accepted into my Masters and I didn’t want to leave without saying-” 

“Johnny.” He stops speaking the second you say his name, his eyes snapping up to yours. Your face is warm, and you can feel your eyes watering. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“You.” The bewilderment on his face is almost funny. 

“Me?”

“Yes you. Every single letter I’ve ever written has been about you. Even this one. I wrote you a love letter only to have it be for me.” You can’t help but laugh at the irony of it all. 

“Wait, really?” He’s laughing a little as well. 

“Yes you idiot. I’ve been so scared Yuta had told you, I was even gonna go cry once you left.” You admit, wiping at the tears that were falling. 

“Oh no, don’t cry.” He pulls you close to his chest, his head resting on yours. “Let me take you for lunch. Then maybe you can tell me some of those sweet things you’re always writing about me.” You both laugh at this, pulling away from him. 

“Don’t think I’m going to let this ruin my business, Johnny Suh, I’ve still got to pay for my coffee habits.” 

“Only if I get to read the letters first.” 

“Deal.” 

“And I get to see your client list.” 

“Not a chance.” 

[pandastern]

What’s Your Poison, Captain Levi

Part 1: Desire

Sub!Levi Ackerman x Dom!Reader

Warnings: explicit, mature content

Word count: 2989

Genre: romance

When Levi overhears a fight between Y/N and Erwin about their newest addition to the squad, his curiosity leads him to investigate. Little does he know that this decision will confront him with his deepest and darkest desires he had hoped to keep buried.

The castle fell silent after a long day of work, most of the cadettes were already asleep and those who weren't, better got to it before he found out. Levi sighed deeply and downed his last cup of tea. The fragrant blend had lasted him for almost 2 months, but as so many things in his life even this was coming to an end. 

Levi did not allow himself many luxuries. A clean space and some tea. That had always been enough for him. 

It had been a week since Eren had joined his squad. The boy was so lively, so full of life and determination. How many soldiers had he seen with the same kind of attitude. How many had died before his eyes.

Putting down the cup, he got up and rubbed his eyes. Levi couldn't tell how long he had been sitting there, contemplating so many things, he could barely remember what he had mulled over. Maybe he was just utterly sleep deprived. 

Yes, that had to be it. 

“Off to bed it is then…” He mumbled to himself, blowing out the candle on the table. The moon was shining brightly, the light coming through the windows illuminating his way enough to find his path without needing another light source. 

How eerie this castle could be at night. The creaking of old wood and the howling of the summer breeze almost sounded as if the building itself was breathing.

Halfway up the stairs that led to his quarters he suddenly heard a door slam in the hallways below him. The loud sound made him freeze. “This better not be one of the brats out of bed.” He grumbled and listened into the darkness.

“No Erwin! I dont give a flying fuck. That kid has been here for a week. A Week, Erwin! He's been in my office with burns, a bleeding nose, overexhaustion and oh, yes, snapped tendons! Ah! No! Close that mouth of yours I don't want to hear it! I don't care that he regenerates like some Lizard on drugs! Eren is 14!”

“He is a soldier and doing his duty. As should you. Eren is not a child and he knows the cost of his purpose! This young man has seen more than enough of the gruesome reality of this world to make his own decisions!” 

“Yes, Life is shit. Reality is cruel. Trust me, I fucking know that! It doesn't change the fact that you are sending children to die, asshole. And no excuse of yours makes it right.”

“Y/N, you-”

“No, fucking save it. I don't want to hear another word. I am not a soldier, nor a cadette, so you can shove your Commander bullshit right back up your arse.”

The sound of angrily stomping footsteps followed by a never ending string of curses echoed through the staircase. Levi rose a brow. He had recognized that voice. Y/N was one of the Medical staff they kept here to support the survey corps. Usually that woman worked under Hanji Zoe's Squad unless she had to take care of injured soldiers... Or Eren. 

He couldn't remember having ever heard her use that kind of tone before. He'd seen that woman pop a dislocated limb back into place while sweet-talking the whimpering soldier into a blush like it was nothing. Not much of a soldier herself, he had to admit, but she kept her medical office under strict rules that no one dared to break. Y/N was strict, but she was never harsh. Not like this.

He knew it was probably for the best if he just went to bed. It was none of his business. They weren't friends so he was probably the last person she wanted to talk to right now. Especially since he was also a reason why Eren was here in this castle. Granted, if he and Erwin had not intervened the boy would be dead by now. However that didn't change the fact that whatever argument Y/N had had with Erwin she would most likely have with him as well. And as someone who had seen what that woman was capable off, he'd rather not be on the receiving end of that.

After hesitating for a moment Levi sighed deeply and turned around and followed in the direction of where Y/N had stomped off to. Why, he couldn't say. Maybe it was that slight tremble in her voice when she had hissed at Commander Erwin, that he had never heard before. Maybe he was just...curious.  

It took a little bit of searching before he found her. Y/N was sitting outside in the grass, resting against a tree. When Levi approached her the scent of something sweet and burning wafted around him. 

“What the hell are you smoking?” he asked and wrinkled his nose. “Don't tell me you actually got your hands on tobacco. What merchant did you shake down for that?”

Taking a deep drag from the hand rolled cigarette in her hand she gave him a very calculated look.

“Isn't it past your bedtime Captain Levi?” Her lips curved into a smirk that made her look like a Cheshire cat. “Don't you know? To stay sane in this wretched world everyone needs a little pick me up. Some people like to fuck an excessive amount, some people drink alcohol till their liver burts like an overripe tomato. Others…”

She took another drag from the cigarette, the sweet musky smell getting stronger. “Others just know where the good stuff grows.”

Y/N chuckled softly, shaking her head. Levi didn't reply to that. He could sense the frustration in her demeanor. “It's not like you to numb yourself with substances to escape whatever upsets you.”

Another dry laugh.

“I am not. This is St. John's wort and lavender. Helps me sleep. And considering you're up at  this ungodly hour I am guessing you could use one as well.”

Levi watched as Y/N softly patted the grass next to her, motioning for him to sit down. With a sigh he let himself fall into the grass. Silence spread between them and Levi just watched her carefully. 

“I heard your fight with Erwin.” He finally said.

Y/N clicked her tongue and shot him a glance through narrowed eyes.

“Oh? So you're here to...what? Scold me?”

“No. Not like a brat like you would listen to me.”

“It doesn't matter what I think anyway, does it?”

Levi sighed and stretched out his legs, leaning back against the tree. “You know that what we do here is necessary. You also know that Eren is not a child. No matter his age. It may not be pretty and it may not be what you want for him, but you can't forget that Eren killed twenty Titans by himself in his Titan form.”

Grinding her teeth Y/N pressed the cigarette bud into the ground and cursed again.

“Fuck you. Don't you think I know that?! I am fully aware that this kid can turn into a building sized naked killer man. Trust me, Hanji told me all about it in one of their ‘I am horny for Titans’ rants. It doesnt change the fact that he is a child. Just because he's seen some shit doesn't make him any less of a 14 year old kid. If you're sending soldiers to die, then at least make sure they are fully grown first.”

Her voice had gotten louder with every word she spat out before she cut herself off. Levi watched her take a deep breath and pull out a second hand rolled cigarette.

“We have no choice. Not when the survival of the human race is on the line.” he stated with a stern voice. It wasn't that he didn't understand where she was coming from but sometimes sacrifices had to be made.

“Spoken like a good little soldier. I know that of course. Doesn't mean I have to like that shit.” Y/N scoffed. “How far you've come from just a little underground street rat.”

Levi stiffened. It had been so many years since someone had brought up his origins. He wasn't ashamed of who he had been, but being confronted with it so suddenly still made him tense up.

“What, surprised? Of course I know. Where do you think I come from. You're not the only underground rat dwelling on the surface. Like you, Erwin was the one who pulled me up.”

Now she sounded almost bitter. 

“Now that you mention it, it explains a lot about you.”

Like that time when he had watched her knock a hysteric solder out cold with one brief move so she could treat them.

“I suppose it does.” Y/N pulled out a lighter and ignited her second cigarette, taking a deep drag. “I've always been good with herbalism. Drugs...Poison...Back then I used that knowledge to cater to Clients with a very particular taste of pick me ups.”

Another side shot glance and the smirk returned on her lips. “But enough about me. What is your preferred poison, Captain?”

The swift change of subjects did not go unnoticed to him. Not that he minded. He personally didn't much like to talk about the past. That, however, caught him off guard.

“What do you mean?” He asked carefully.

Y/N sat up, put out her cigarette and leaned closer, her eyes having a glint in them he had never seen before. “Like I said before. Everyone has that little something that keeps them sane. So what is it for you? And please don't say tea. That doesn't count.”

“Why wouldn't it count? Who gets to decide what keeps me sane if not me?” he huffed. Levi didn't like where this conversation was headed. As Y/N leaned a little closer, he instinctively leaned back but the tree trapped him in place. 

“Because I am talking about something more...decadent.” Her husky chuckle made him shiver, her face now so close to his, he could feel her breath on his skin. She smelled sweet, just like the herbs she had smoked earlier. To his surprise it wasn't unpleasant.

“So...tell me. What is it the Levi Ackermann, humanity's strongest soldiers desire? What is it that makes your fingers itch? You always seem so stoic but I know there's more. I can see it in your eyes”

Levi finally recognized the glint in her eyes. It was the same look a cat had that was playing with a mouse, ready to pounce. And he didn't quite know how to feel about that.

“I have no idea what you're going on about.”

“No?” Another soft chuckle that made the hair on the back of his neck stand. She was so close now, he could make out the soft dusting of freckles on her cheeks. Before he could stop himself he evaded her eyes to focus himself.

Soft fingers grasped his chin, forcing him to look at her.

“Y/N-”

“Do you think i haven't noticed? The way your eyes follow me the moment I step into a room?” She whispered.

Levi could feel his face grow hot. Had he really been so obvious? 

“I- wait, Y/N its not- “

Before he could answer, Y/N moved even closer, climbing into his lap. Levi stiffened, his eyes wide as her warm hands cupped his face. 

“It's okay, I don't mind. Not like I haven't done the same thing…”

Her body was pressed so flush against his, her body heat almost scalding him. Levi's breath caught in his throat. Their faces were so close, noses touching, breath mingling together and somehow the entire world started to fade away, leaving just the two of them together. His heart was beating so fast, he was sure the sound must echo through the entire castle, but he just couldn't push her away. He knew he should. He knew he couldn’t allow this. Knew this wouldn't end well for him.

But the look in her eyes told Levi, Y/N already had him in a trap he couldn't  escape. Not that he wanted to.

“Such pretty eyes you have, Levi.” She whispered in a low voice. “I’ve always wondered what's going on behind them.”

Keeping one hand on his cheek, Y/N gently brushed a strand of hair out of his face making him shiver. No one had ever touched him that way before. “W-what do you mean?” He managed to whisper hoarsely.

“What you crave of course. Everyone has something. Fantasies of pleasure and lust that keep playing in your head when you are all by yourself and need some release.” Y/N laughed softly, her thumb brushing over his bottom lip. Gods he was blushing like a boy but that look in her eyes kept him enthralled, unable to move a single muscle.

“I have two theories. Lets see which one hits the spot.” She purred. “My first theory is that you crave control. You are the captain after all. So what is it you think of when you watch me?”

Another shiver ran down Levi's spine, Y/n's feather light touches ghosting over his skin igniting his nerve endings in exhilarating sparks. Why was it so hard to breathe? 

“Do you think of me, naked? Tied up with ropes, suspended limbs hanging in the air like a doll...completely and utterly at your mercy as your wandering hands coax soft moans out of me? Do you dream about teasing me till I fully submit to your authority?”

Heat started pooling in his stomach and instinctively Levis' hands moved to her hips gripping them tightly. Y/N leaned in, softly brushing her lips against the corners of his mouth. Levi froze, his fingers digging into her soft, supple skin. “W-what?”

She was searching his eyes intently and it felt like she was stripping away every little layer of protection he had built over his lifetime. Dangerous. She was dangerous. He'd always known that. Hed known the moment their eyes had met for the very first time.

“No...no that's not it…is it?” A lascivious smirk spreading over those sinful lips of hers. “So I was right. See, my second theory is the one I find most plausible. It's human psychology after all…”

Her hands started to travel down his jaw before resting gently around his throat. Levi swallowed hard. He could feel himself tremble softly and that predatory glint in her eyes told him, she felt it too.

“You don't wish for control Levi, do you? You crave release. So much responsibility on your shoulders. Always having to be reliable. Humanity's Strongest. A leader in his own right. But what you really want is to let go. To give yourself into reliable hands that roam your body just the right way”

Levi could feel her lips on his ear, nipping at the soft skin. The gasp escaping his parted lips was almost treacherous and wrong. But dammit she was right. And he hated that she was.

“I am right, aren't I? I can feel you getting excited…”

As if to prove a point Y/N rolled her hips against him, coaxing a soft moan out of his parted lips. Levi's head fell forward against her shoulder, the scent of her herbs wrapping around him, more intoxicating than any booze he'd ever tasted.

“Please-” He rasped almost helplessly.

“Please? My, my, Levi...such beautiful sounds you make.”

More featherlight nips and kisses trailing down his jaw and neck, making him dizzy. She was toying with him.

“Your arms tied behind your back, maybe even on your knees. Helpless and taken care of at the same time. That's what you crave isn't it? That's the deep dark sinful little desire that's burning in your heart. Submission.”

Nimble fingers threading into his hair, gripping it tight before yanking his head back. 

“F-fuck!” The moment the groan left him Levi already knew he was done for. She was gonna swallow him whole.

“Say it Levi...is that what you want?” Y/N purred, her forehead touching his. It was an order. She was giving him an order.

Levi shuddered under her gaze, his throat so dry he barely resisted the urge to lick his lips. “Y-yes…”

“There we go...that wasn't so hard was it? Don't worry...I'd be more than happy to do that for you darling. I will keep you safe… take you apart piece by piece until you lose yourself in pleasure. Until you fall… and then I will put you back together.”

Her lips were hovering over his, a tease, an invitation. Why couldn't she just kiss him already?

“What...are you saying?” Levi whispered barely audible, his chest heaving with every breath. His lungs and all his senses already filled with her scent, her body pressed again so flush he could feel every curve through her clothing.

“I am making you an offer, Captain. And I want you to think about it before you answer. If that is what you want...come find me in my office. I'll help you fly in the best and worst way  possible...understood?”

Not knowing what to say or do, Levi just nodded. There was no way another word could make it past his lips. He wanted her. He wanted her so damn bad, the desire was burning him up alive.

Her soft chuckle echoed through the night.

“Good. I bid you goodnight then. Come find me when you're ready.”

Before Levi could process what she had just said, Y/N got off him and jumped to her feet as if nothing had ever happened. His body shivered at the sudden lack of heat, already feeling empty without her so close to him. 

Stunned, Levi watched her wink at him before disappearing into the night. What the hell had just happened?

[goldenboywrites]

in my mind, you're mine forever

“Ollie?” Oliver Davenport looked up mid pancake flip and met the adoring gaze of Theodore Maddox-Wicker. He leaned across the counter after Theo hopped up onto a stool and ruffled the kid’s bedhead even more. “Good morning. Did dad already leave?”

“Good morning, birthday boy.” He flipped the pancake again before deeming it worthy enough for the boy sitting across from him. “Yes, he left early for work but he wanted me to tell you that his first present to you was not waking you up before he left and that he will be home early to celebrate with all of us.” Oliver spooned cut-up strawberries onto the plate then poured a healthy amount (which Apollo could scold him for if he were present) of syrup on the pancakes before passing the plate off to Theo. “Your uncle Cass will be by later and your aunt Artemis…” 

Theo forked a strawberry, his carefree smile turning into a frown. One that pained Oliver’s heart to see. “But I won’t see my dad.” 

He wasn’t talking about Apollo. 

“No,” Oliver said carefully, turning off the stove and placing the last pancake on a plate for himself. “Probably not tonight but you’ll see him this weekend. And I heard a rumor that he may be taking you to Australia for a few days as an extra special surprise but don’t tell him I told you.” The former Gryffindor grabbed a fork and cut through the side of the pancake. Theo’s frown only deepened and Oliver inhaled slowly before continuing. “I know it’s not what you want but both of your dads are doing their best. Remember that, kiddo.” 

Theo made a noncommittal noise and ate some of his pancakes. Oliver knew him well enough to see the gears turning in that brain of his. “Do you think my dad will come home soon?”

He nearly choked on the piece of pancake in his mouth. Immediately Oliver grabbed a glass of orange juice and washed it down. He glanced at Apollo and Isaac’s son, the most wonderful kid he had the pleasure of knowing. There was nothing Oliver wouldn’t do for Theodore Maddox-Wicker. He would move mountains, slay dragons, give him a kidney. This was the kid that he and Cassio both loved as if he were their own. Guilty, his gaze quickly shifted down to his own plate. He didn’t have the courage to tell Theo that he didn’t know. 

“I wish they would just talk like they used to,” Theodore said as he pushed his plate away, more than half of it was uneaten and Oliver knew he should be the adult in the situation and make sure the boy ate a good breakfast but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not when it was the first birthday Theo would have to celebrate twice because his dads weren’t together. “I know they still love each other.” 

Oliver sighed, pushing his own plate aside and resting his arms flat on the counter. He bent his back,  groaning lightly at the light crack of his spine. Fuck, he was getting old. They all were. “I think they’ll always love each other, kid. And if it’s meant to be then they’ll find a way back to each other. All we can do is give them time.” 

“Time makes things worse. Space makes things worse.” Theo argued, his mouth forming a pout. 

Not always. Sometimes staying together when things aren’t working does more damage. Is what Oliver wanted to say but he had to remind himself who he was talking to. A child whose entire world was upside down and changing. He didn’t want to crush the innocent hope he still had. “Alright, you’ve got me there.” Oliver threw his hands up in mock defeat. 

“So you’ll help me then?”

Oliver Davenport’s face paled and his brow furrowed into a line of confusion. “Help you?” He questioned.

“Parent trap them, duh.” Theo reached his hand out expectedly and gave Oliver an impatient look. “Phone, please.” 

“I don’t understand that reference,” Oliver admitted but still took his phone out of his pocket and handed it off to Theo despite the uneasiness he felt in the pit of his stomach. “Please tell me you just want to play candy crush…” 

“I’m going to get them to talk or remember how much they love each other and our fam-” Theo explained at the same time that Oliver warned, “Theo…” 

“Please, uncle Ollie?” Oh no, his heart clenched in his chest and he tried to look away before but no, Theo that look on his face. His big, brown puppy dog eyes staring up at him as if he put the stars in the sky. “Please help me. I can’t do it without you…” 

Oliver sighed. Then he sighed again. After that, he crossed his arms over his chest and light stomped his foot out. It wasn’t fair. The love he held for this kid wasn’t fair. Cassio was going to murder him for getting involved. “As your father’s best friend,”

“I thought uncle Cass was dad’s best frien-” 

“Uncle Cass and I are a packaged deal so if he’s your father’s best friend then that makes me his best friend too. Also, I saved his life one time and uncle Cass hasn’t,” Oliver paused, shaking his head. “Never mind, anyways. As your dad’s best friend I say heck yes, let’s do it. But I also feel like I need to also say that as the only mature, responsible adult, and your unofficial guardian when your dads are working, that I do not approve of meddling in other adults private affairs.”

But Theo wasn’t listening. He was punching in number’s on Oliver’s phone and then lifting it up to his ear. Oliver heard it ring and then the muffled voice of Isaac on the other line. Theo whimpered at sound of his dad’s voice and huffed out, “Hi dad,” trying (and succeeding) in making himself sound as sad and pathetic as possible. He was good. He was real good. And Oliver was scared about what he had just agreed to do. 

===============

“This better be an emergency. I’m trying to leave the office on time,” Apollo muttered into the phone as he tucked it between his ear and his shoulder. “Please tell me you were able to pick up the cake.” He shuffled through a thick stack of papers, notes from his three current court cases. The work never seemed to end these days. 

“Hi, sister. How are you? Are you well? Are you enjoying the nice weather we’re having?” She said in a mocking tone. “It’s amazing to me that you have so many clients when you clearly don’t know how to properly answer the phone.” Sometimes, most of the times, Apollo wished he was an only child. Having a twin sister who constantly called you out on your own bullshit was exhausting.

“My clients don’t pay me to be polite on the phone,” He reminded her with a sigh. “They pay me to win their cases.”

She scoffed and he imagined rolled her eyes at the same time. “Ah yes, my brother. The shark of the wizarding world. Anyways, I was checking in to make sure you didn’t need me to pick up anything else but since you’re in wonderful mood, I’m not sure I want to do you any favors.”

He was trying. Really he was, despite what everyone around him thought. Despite what Isaac believed about him these days. He was trying to be a better person and a better father. He was trying to control his anger, still trying to work through the hardships he had faced in his life. There were still quite a few things that haunted Apollo even though he had tried to put his past behind him. A lot of it was bubbling back up to the surface now that Isaac had left him. 

“Hello?” Artemis sang into the phone. Apollo shook his head and refocused. 

“Just get to the house. Oliver is there with Theo. Cass is picking up dinner and I will be home in half an hour.” Apollo stopped suddenly, his phone nearly slipping from his ear as he felt the wards around his building shift in a sickeningly familiar way. He gritted his teeth and then, in an attempt to calm himself, took a sharp breath. “Just keep an eye on Theo, okay? He’s really struggling with everything that’s going on and I want him to feel special on his birthday. I know he’s disappointed that-” He couldn’t say his name. He wouldn’t. The door to his office opened and Apollo glanced up to see a trio of men standing in his door. “Artemis,” He hissed, not breaking eye contact with the man in the middle. 

“Yeah, Apollo. I know. We’re all make sure he has good time tonight and you will too, right? You’ll be home on time? Promise me you won’t let him down today…” 

The men walked to the bar cart on the right side of Apollo’s office. They helped themselves to glasses of scotch. With his free hand, Apollo rubbed at his forehead. “I uh,” Sometimes the weight on his shoulders felt so heavy he was scared he would crumble under the pressure. “Something has come up. I’ll get there as soon as I can.” 

“Apol-” He hung up on her.

“This better be good,” Apollo said through gritted teeth as each of the men took a seat in front of him. “I have somewhere important to be.” 

The man seated in the center, tapped his fingers against the glass and raised a brow at him. “Do you now? Something more important that this meeting, you say? Do we need to remind you that you are indebted to us for life? Must we remind you that you are here in this fancy office because we put you here? You would be rotting in Azkaban with Beery if it weren’t for us. So how about we start this meeting over again. This time with manners.” 

Apollo gritted his teeth so hard, his hands shook and he laced his fingers together so they wouldn’t see. An empty glass on the bar cart behind him shattered. Yet he didn’t pay it any attention. Instead he leaned back in his chair and forced a tight grin to show. “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

Maybe one day he would free from the things that held him prisoner.

[quidfree]

prompts,.,, fem tdbk and a date gone very wrong ? ❤️

ohhhh my god anon. pump this shit directly into my veins i love this whole premise let’s go. also all inspired by whatever the fuck horikoshi was doing in this 

just so everyone is on the same page here, it is not a fucking date.

it’s lunch. a singular lunch. people do that shit all the time. even katsuki does lunch, sometimes. she went to that semi-shitty diner place with kirishima that one time when the food hall was shut because some dumbass first year exploded into goo or whatever. and todoroki does lunch, too- her and deku were on some shitty lunch date like a week ago, as evidenced by deku’s even shittier selfie of them having a grand old time doing whatever the fuck they do alone.

fuck, not a shitty lunch date. a shitty lunch. whatever.

the point is lunch is a normal non-date thing people do, and the fact katsuki and todoroki are maybe not the usual suspects for it is just circumstantial. it’s not like they planned it ahead of time, or made some big thing about it. they literally arranged for it in public, so obviously todoroki didn’t think there was anything weird about it. and there isn’t! they’re both going to be in tokyo on the same day, and todoroki’s always happy for any excuse to spend less time with her old man, and katsuki sure as fuck wouldn’t turn down an opportunity to avoid her hag of a birth-giver for a few blissful hours, so when todoroki had very nonchalantly gone ‘oh, bakugou, we could do lunch then”, it wasn’t like she had any real reason to tell her to go fuck herself. like, yeah, maybe a year ago, on principle, she would have, but even katsuki can only take so much trauma-bonding before she resigns herself to the reality that she’s stuck with half ‘n half for life, one way or another, and she may as well suck it up and approach civility because said moron is determined to ignore her open malice until she plays along anyways. they’re... you know, whatever. friends. or something. jesus.

the point being that it’s not a date, and the fact that she’s getting increasingly annoyed at her limited wardrobe is just because she would have packed more shit if the crone hadn’t insisted that they ‘pack light’ so they could get cheaper train tickets for less luggage. it’s just annoying that she can’t wear anything that’s not screaming holiday.

it occurs to her as she sits and scowls at her suitcase that her mother has been watching her from the doorframe for some undetermined amount of time, which is criminal mainly because she’s a goddamn hero-to-be and getting snuck up on by anyone is a blight upon her good name. she tries to disguise the ego damage dealt by glowering murderously in her progenitor’s direction.

“what the fuck do you want?”

“you know,” the she-devil says, cocking a hip, “if you want to borrow something nicer...”

“i wouldn’t be caught dead in your shitty clothes!” katsuki snarls, which prompts the witch to immediately scowl back.

“watch your damn mouth!”

“watch your waistline! no way in hell are we the same size!”

“why you little-”

the interruption at least reminds her that she is obsessing over her clothes ahead of meeting todoroki for lunch, which is so humiliating it kickstarts her brain again long enough to grab some normal shit and get the hell out of there.

on the walk she checks her phone again. the previous day she’d had to bite the bullet and make the first move, todoroki’s infamously terrible communication skills making themselves known once more, and their ensuing conversation had been so mortifying she’d nearly cancelled all-together.

to: Half ‘n half

Yo asshole are we still meeting tomorrow or what

I’m busy as shit

from: Half ‘n half

Yes. TS

to: Half ‘n half

What the fuck is TS

from: Half ‘n half

I was signing off.

to: Half ‘n half

SIGNING OFF ON YOUR OWN TEXT

YOU THINK I DONT KNOW YOUR DAMN NAME

from: Half ‘n half

[Pin attached]

Does here at 12.30 work for you?

to: Half ‘n half

Yeah whatever

Don’t be late

And don’t think I’m forgetting the fucking signing off thing

from: Half ‘n half

Glad you can make time for mockery in your busy as shit schedule.

the venue looks like some rich person shit, which she semi-expected, but it means a lot of people give her weird looks as she makes her way inside, probably on account of the shorts and t-shirt she’s wearing if not her general vibe. some old woman actually drags her purse to her, which makes katsuki sorely tempted to bare her teeth and maybe hiss for effect, though she settles for scowling and shoving her hands in her pockets. it’s 12.27, because she wasn’t going to be late but being any earlier would have given off some dubious impression that she’s eager to see todoroki, except now she kind of wishes she’d just come for 12.30 because if there’s some reservation bullshit she gets the feeling she’s going to start fighting with the waiting staff, and then-

“bakugou,” todoroki calls, from inside, raising a hand with unnecessary formality. “you made it.”

“course i made it,” katsuki grunts, absolutely not relieved as she by-passes the suspicious looking waiter to join her outside. “think i can’t ride the damn underground by myself?”

todoroki is wearing jeans cuffed at the ankles and a white t-shirt on top of which she’s thrown on an open button-up with the sleeves rolled up, and she looks casual and normal and incidentally kind of like they dressed to match, but the important part is that she doesn’t look dressed up at all, so katsuki was totally right about the non-date situation, and also isn’t the only one totally underdressed for the shitty venue.

“you look nice,” todoroki says then, completely shattering katsuki’s brief moment of reprieve. “i’ve never seen so much color on you.”

katsuki almost chokes on her own tongue, but the worst part is that the asshole seems completely nonchalant about the weird as shit observation, focused on her stool as she takes a seat on the balcony. which- what the actual fuck? since when does todoroki issue compliments unprompted- of the non-professional variety, at that? and what the fuck does she expect katsuki to say now- return the compliment? say thanks? is this whole thing some kind of exercise in psychological torture?

well, fuck it. she can’t look like a little bitch just because todoroki said something inanely positive. two can play that game.

“yeah. you look half decent yourself. did you hire someone to dress you for the occasion?”

todoroki blinks up at her in surprise, which is totally a win and would make her more smug if she could stop feeling so weird and prickly all over. for a dangerous moment todoroki seems on the verge of blushing, but miraculously the world rights itself and the usual deadpan persists, one brow quirking up in completely feigned ineptitude.

“there was a compliment somewhere in there, so thank you, i think. i thought we were past this vendetta.”

“we’ll be past this vendetta the day you burn your piece of shit hero suit,” katsuki retorts, back on familiar ground, and relaxes long enough to squint down at the menu.

this turns out to be a mistake.

“the fuck? is this whole thing in french?”

“oh,” todoroki says, after a beat. “that makes sense. i thought my english had deteriorated.”

“are you- you didn’t know? you recommended the place!”

“it was the nearest place to our hotel,” todoroki defends, now having the decency of looking slightly put out. “coq can’t mean what i think it means, can it?”

“that’s chicken, asshole,” katsuki hisses, flinging the menu down. “great, now we’re going to have to flag down one of the shithead waiters and ask for a japanese menu. excuse me! hey! yeah, i’m talking to- what the hell, did he just blow me off? hey, jackass! you with the shitty mustache!”

“sorry about that,” todoroki interjects, when mustache asshole turns an offended stare their way. “do you have the japanese menu?”

“we only serve the food in its authentic form,” mustachioed asshole says, with frigid self-satisfaction. “might i suggest google translate?”

“might i suggest my foot up your ass, you shitty-”

“that’s fine,” todoroki says, in a flat tone that implies otherwise. “we’ll make do.”

the waiter sniffs pretentiously as katsuki thinks about all the ways she could beat his ass into next tuesday, running an aggravated hand through her hair when the wind rustles it into her face. she’d half expect todoroki to suggest they fuck off elsewhere, but when she looks back her way she finds an ill-boding gleam of determination in her eyes despite the impassive set to her face, and it’s a testament to how fucked in the head ua has made katsuki that she feels a sort of sick thrill of recognition at the sight. todoroki’s in stubborn bitch mode.

“i’ll have this,” todoroki says, sure enough, pointing to the most expensive item on the menu. “and also this. and one of those.”

the waiter’s eyes nearly pop out of his skull, and todoroki looks unfazed in katsuki’s direction, tapping pointedly at a sleek black and red credit card in her wallet. “bakugou?”

well, if endeavour’s paying....

“sure,” katsuki says, slowly, and then turns her meanest smile the waiter’s way. “i want the frog legs.”

mustache clears his throat, attempts condescension. “we don’t serve that here.”

“you’re a gastronomique restaurant,” katsuki says very loudly, as other clients turn to stare, “and you don’t have fucking frog legs? is this a joke? does this napkin say authentic french cuisine or am i hallucinating?”

“i can ask the chef,” the waiter demurs, casting a nervous glance at the muttering snobs nearby, and attempts an ingratiating smile. “anything else for you, mademoiselle?”

“what did you just call me?”

once the ordering debacle is over, todoroki slants katsuki what may well be an apologetic glance, vaguely contrite frown sitting pretty atop her usual dead-eyed stare.

“i probably should have read up on the place ahead of time.”

katsuki is well within her rights to chew her head off, she thinks, but food’s on the way and she got to yell at the asshole who gave her the once-over when she came in, so she’s feeling forgiving, even in the face of todoroki’s annoyingly doll-faced apology. the bitch really has to do the bare minimum and she looks like a fucking kpop idol.

“yeah, whatever. i always knew you were a shitty ops planner.”

todoroki, who is an asshole, looks relieved at her generous forgiveness for all of a second before she quirks a brow. “between the two of us, i only count one person who has actually spoken the words ‘shoot first, ask questions later’.”

“that was in a training simulation,” katsuki protests, outraged. “and you know damn well the actors were annoying as shit!”

“i did find them slightly too committed to the role,” todoroki concedes neutrally, which totally means she agrees with katsuki 100% and is being precious about it. katsuki scoffs.

“least the view’s decent.”

“the-“ todoroki starts, in weirdly confused tones, until she follows katsuki’s gaze outward and nods in understanding. “oh, the skyline. yes.”

what else katsuki could have meant she doesn’t fucking know: they’re sitting pretty in the middle of tokyo. the only thing the hellhole of a restaurant has going for it at this point is the cityscape.

todoroki stares out into the distance for a good long moment, and with the breeze her negligently loose hair whips this way and that, red and white blur where the two halves mingle. instinctively katsuki itches to braid it flat so it doesn’t tangle. if todoroki asked her she’d tell her to just cut her damn hair into a bob or something- it’s not like icyhot has any attachment to her princess hair, and she’s got the obnoxious bone structure to pull off any length. not that she’d mention this last part. or that she’s given it much thought. it’s just fucking obvious.

if todoroki could keep her mouth shut throughout the rest of the meal, it could be sort of nice. tokyo skyline, and companionable silence, and presumably edible food. worse ways to kill some time, and way less incriminating than anything that may be said otherwise.

“i think this is the part where we make small talk,” todoroki says instead, sadist that she definitely is, as katsuki grimaces feelingly her way.

“no, we don’t.”

“well, we don’t. but this is the part where we should.”

“i don’t even believe you can last a minute of small talk, icyhot.”

todoroki looks pensive, mismatched eyes thoughtful. “...how has your day been?”

“uneventful,” katsuki says, combative, and eyes her watch. todoroki does not give.

“this place seems nice.”

“you don’t even think that.”

“how have you been finding tokyo?”

“noisy.”

“the weather seems-”

“no.”

“you look nice.”

“you said that already, dumbass,” katsuki grunts, palms crackling with sweat, and does not at all read into the way todoroki makes a stupid little movement with her mouth that could ungenerously be interpreted as a pout.

“well, i meant it, so i’m saying it twice.”

“give it up, half ‘n half, just ask me about training.”

“...how is your training?”

“i did this thing yesterday,” katsuki starts, leaning back in her chair, and from then launches into a very technical and barely exaggerated retelling of the batshit insane stunt she pulled off with her quirk the day prior. todoroki’s focused attention is gratifying, in a totally platonic non-weird way- it’s just that her parents couldn’t very well follow why exactly said stunt was as insane as it is, but todoroki obviously can, and also there’s that thing with todoroki where pulling a reaction out of her ice queen act is admittedly more satisfying than most people. it has jack shit to do with the fact katsuki’s got a very minor complex about todoroki paying her her dues, and even if it did then that’s entirely fucking reasonable considering she still hasn’t forgiven her for the sports fest incident. 

it is a little weird having todoroki’s sole focus on her outside of hero shit, though. it’s not like they really hang out one on one outside of school or work. it’s kind of- unnerving. yeah. unnerving, to be making prolonged eye contact, todoroki’s expression intent but not intense the way she gets in fight scenarios, frowning lightly because she has resting bitch face but apparently genuinely interested. it’s kind of a relief that todoroki asks questions- moves them safely into a conversation, so katsuki’s not just sitting there talking and sort of dry-throated. fucking waiter, leaving them water-less.

it’s fine. they talk about training, and quirks, and then todoroki pushes her hair behind her ears and leans forward to demonstrate on a small scale this thing she’s trying to do where she melts her ice and refreezes it in rapid succession so it causes what is essentially ice rain, but there’s logistics and shit that need to be worked out for it to work the way she’s thinking it might, and katsuki knows her thermal shit so they start scrawling maths over the napkins, and then bicker over the finer points of first year chemistry, so when the food actually arrives to interrupt them todoroki’s startled blink is weirdly relatable, like she also forgot where they were.

the waiter’s there and gone before they’re really recovered from the brief misplacement, which katsuki registers only when she looks down at her empty glass.

“goddamnit- how hard is it to bring us water?”

“they only offer sparkling,” todoroki says, gravely, then outpaces katsuki’s disgust by placing her hand over her glass, ice rising before she switches hands and melts it down. “tell me if the temperature’s off.”

intensely mollified and trying not to look it, katsuki sips it. “’s fine.”

“okay,” todoroki says, faintly pleased, and tilts her head to look down at her food. “i have no idea what any of this is.”

“moron,” katsuki snorts, except it comes out way fonder than it has any rights to, and from beneath the convenient curtain of hair todoroki’s smiling a little, so she hastily stabs a frog leg and gets to eating before anyone gets any ideas.

the actual meal goes okay-ish. most of the stuff todoroki ordered is extremely pretentious french cuisine, and todoroki secretly has the culinary adventurousness of a five year old, so it befalls katsuki to impatiently attempt every dish and pronounce it edible before todoroki will deign to brave it. she’s still trying to bully an unyielding todoroki into attempting the weird bird soup thing when there’s commotion nearby. it takes the both of them approximately three seconds to spring into work-mode; katsuki’s on her feet poised for a fight before she’s even consciously thought about it, scanning her peripherals, and she doesn’t even need to look to feel todoroki unconsciously covering her back, cool sting of air signalling her quirk at the ready. 

the commotion turns out just to be some old dumbass choking, relaxing them both out of their stances as she falls back to let todoroki ahead. they’re both uber-qualified for first aid shit, but she’s self-aware enough to know even todoroki’s bland reassurances are usually preferred to her bedside manner. unfortunately, the whole entourage seems to be braindead, because they’re all crowding the old guy in a panic while he chokes, his wife in shrieking hysterics.

“oh, my god, he’s choking! he’s choking! sugar-plum, stay with me!”

“fuck me,” katsuki mutters, unethically thinking that she would personally prefer choking to being married to someone who calls her sugar-plum, but todoroki’s pushing ahead with implacable calm, so she trudges after her anyways.

“excuse me. excuse me. i need access to your husband.”

“who are you? don’t touch him! help! get this woman off my husband!” wailing hysteric yells, bosom heaving dramatically. katsuki is starting to suspect she poisoned him on purpose or some shit, because no way does anyone talk like that in real life.

“she’s a fucking qualified first aid provider, lady, shut up and let her through!”

thankfully, the woman seems on the verge of an outrage aneurysm, which drags her focus away from suffocating her choking husband to dramatically pointing at katsuki long enough for todoroki to duck past her and reach the guy as he turns purple.

“how dare you speak to me that way? who do you think you are?”

“ma,” chinless moron number one says, clearing his throat. “i think that’s one of those future pros from TV.”

“what?”

“you know, ma,” chinless moron number two adds, glancing nervously between them. “the one that explodes things. you know. from UA.”

katsuki takes great pleasure in watching recognition dawn in the old cow’s beady eyes, but in any event there’s a hacking noise and then the old man’s coughing out a bone into his plate as todoroki steps noiselessly back from the table.

“he’s fine now. enjoy your dinner.”

“god, that was gross,” katsuki says, as they ignore the woman’s sputtering and return to their seats. todoroki tilts her head. 

“not really. if he’d thrown up it would have been.”

“not the choking guy,” katsuki scoffs, casting a glance back his way. “his wife. talk about theatrics.”

“she seemed more afraid of us than her husband dying.”

“for good reason,” katsuki mutters darkly, spreading out in her chair. “i hate civilians.”

“i don’t think she recognised us,” todoroki counters, pensive, and absent-mindedly takes a bite of the weird soup before she screws her face up like a betrayed kid. “oh. you didn’t say it was sweet.”

the look on her face thoroughly distracts katsuki from asking what other reason the pearl-clutcher could possibly have to be so terrified at the mere sight of them; instead, she chokes back a laugh, stifling a grin. “what are you, five?”

“i don’t think i like this,” todoroki says, mournful, which makes katsuki grin harder. she can’t help it- todoroki looking stupid is her kryptonite. 

“then don’t pick a restaurant where you can’t read the menu, next time.”

todoroki’s midway to looking up, but for some reason her expression transforms instantaneously, which makes katsuki reflexively try to quash her amusement. todoroki always gets weird when she’s smiling. 

“next time?”

motherfuck. obviously she didn’t mean next time like next time, she meant next time like- hypothetically, in the future, when todoroki’s on a lunch date with someone else. a lunch non-date. she’s just about stopped sputtering furiously long enough to try and express this sentiment when it occurs to her that todoroki seems- pleased, one eye soft sky-blue when katsuki accidentally meets it, and that draws her up short long enough that she ends up just muttering lamely to herself. fucking todoroki. 

on the heels of this utter embarrassment, she downs the rest of her water, scowls in a neat 180 at everything in sight, and wonders for the first time in her life how the fuck extras get through dates. not that this is one.

it’s fine. they’re done eating, and no one’s died, and katsuki is no longer fifteen and thus mostly trusts her ego to lick its wounds and recover from the ordeal. even if they stick around for desert that’s only another half hour of this to endure. as long as todoroki doesn’t make any sudden moves they’ll be fine.

...the problem is, of course, that sudden moves are todoroki’s modus operandi. katsuki has not forgotten the bitch calling them friends on national television in the same breath that she was vociferously denying them being anything of the sort. in todoroki’s fucked up brain, they’re always ten steps ahead of whatever they actually are- considering katsuki’s come around to privately acknowledging she’d take a couple more stakes through the gut for the asshole, in todoroki’s world they're practically hitched.

platonically. platonically practically hitched. this is not a thing, goddamnit. no matter the weird looks aizawa’s been giving them, or utsushimi’s nefarious schemes, or the alarming cardiopulmonary condition katsuki’s been developing of late. she’s not some shitty yuri protagonist pining over the nearest female bishōnen in her vicinity.

admittedly if she was to pine over anyone it sure as fuck wouldn’t be some guy, but that’s besides the point, since pretty damn near every person on earth is just some guy by her standards, regardless of gender. the fact that todoroki is not one of said people is entirely irrelevant.

her internal irritation is so distracting that she misses the tremors nearby until entirely too late, by which point todoroki’s stupidly perfect brows raise an incremental fraction and she goes: ‘oh’.

when todoroki goes ‘oh’, some shit is about to go down. 

katsuki turns slowly with an impending sense of doom, and sure enough, the sight that greets her is so nightmarish she seriously reconsiders whether the entire day has been just that. 

“don’t freak out,” a giant building-sized deku booms, apologetically, as his hideous giant face stares at them. “it’s just a quirk thing.”

it’s probably a good thing katsuki has gone speechless with outrage, since it permits todoroki’s constantly composed ass to ask useful questions katsuki probably would have coated in a fair amount more threats and cursing.

“midoriya. i didn’t know you were in tokyo.”

“well, i wasn’t meant to be,” deku says/booms like a foghorn, as the restaurant clientele shrieks and stampedes behind them. his sheepish expression is even more punchable when magnified. “it’s a long story. it’s almost sorted out now, though. i just saw you guys from over at the NPA office and thought i’d come ask if you maybe wouldn’t mind lending a hand? i wouldn’t ask but there’s going to be a lot of cleanup and your quirks would be really helpful to-”

“we’ll do it as long as you shut the fuck up,” katsuki yells, to cut him off, massaging her temples. “the monologuing’s bad enough when you’re not about to burst my fucking eardrums, jackass.”

“oh, sorry! i’m trying to be very quiet but this body’s just hard to get used to- thank you so much for helping, i didn’t mean to come bother you on break...”

“it’s fine,” todoroki says, and then seems to realise that her monotone doesn’t reach midoriya’s giant-ass ears and clears her throat, raising her voice to a shout. “it’s fine. let me go deal with the bill and then we’ll go.”

“sorry?” midoriya whisper-shouts, craning his monstrous head closer to them, the sight of which will haunt katsuki for the rest of her life. “i can’t hear what you’re saying!”

“she said she’s going to go pay for our nice fucking lunch,” katsuki hollers, with no small sense of satisfaction, as deku winces and todoroki slinks off. “since you want to come crashing it like a dipshit.”

“sorry, kacchan!” deku begs off, flapping hand gestures creating enough wind to knock over a nearby umbrella stand. “i just thought it would be a lot of help if you came to oversee the fall-out- especially with the building damage-”

“we’re good,” todoroki announces, to katsuki, apparently having given up on matching her in decibels. she’s got that classic hero look on her face, already in work mode, but just when katsuki’s about to do the same and jump into action, the look wavers a little and she frowns vaguely awkwardly. “thanks for doing lunch.”

“huh?” katsuki stutters, thrown, and then scowls at nothing in particular, stalling. todoroki’s the one who paid, albeit indirectly- it’s typically weird of her to be all formal about it all of a sudden, leaving katsuki to attempt to wriggle them out of the awkwardness of the moment. “i didn’t do shit except show up and eat, weirdo.”

“it’s been abnormally hard to show up and eat in the circumstances,” todoroki replies, a little wryly, and more concerningly a little resigned sounding. which is just unnatural, because todoroki may have expanded her range of emotions considerably since first year but resignation is not on her usual roster, and there’s nothing to be resigned about unless she had some kind of vested interest in this whole fiasco playing out any better than it did.

which she didn’t, obviously. katsuki’s been through this. she chose the nearest possible venue and rocked up in jeans and a t-shirt, and- and why is the fact that todoroki never dresses so normally out of class only now occurring to her, again?

she’d said ‘i think this is the part where we do small talk’. the part of what?

“yeah, whatever,” katsuki says, automatically, as her brain plays catch-up, which is the excuse she will forever stick to for what leaves her mouth next. “should have known you’d be a lousy date.”

todoroki goes ‘what?’ at the same moment deku does, ten times louder and more bug-eyed, which reminds katsuki that 1) deku is still there, 2) deku is still as big as his martyr complex, and 3) deku is the fucking worst, and allowing him to trap her into friendship is somehow responsible for this, she’s sure of it. 

“can we go handle this fucking mess or what?” katsuki snaps, instead of screaming or breaking deku’s very large nose or maybe self-immolating in abject humiliation, hands erupting into explosions as she jumps onto the balcony railing. maybe if she throws herself headfirst into the debris she’ll concuss herself and turn amnesiac. 

“um,” deku is saying, when she turns a withering glare his way. “um, yes! yes! yeah! let’s go do that!”

so she jumps skywards, explosions blasting her high into the air, and very scrupulously does not look towards the sounds of slick ice forming just behind her until todoroki skates into her peripheral vision, hair waving flag-like behind her. ahead there’s a building with a crater clean through it where deku must have erupted from, though when she turns to comment she finds him a fair deal behind them, lumbering pace slowed further as he avoids stepping on anyone or anything along the streets. instead her eyes lock on todoroki’s where the latter is staring at her, face unreadable, and she bristles hard enough to disrupt trajectory, correcting course rapidly before she plummets into an office.

“what?”

“i’m a lousy date,” todoroki repeats, neutrally, over the wind. katsuki grits her teeth.

“and what about it?”

she’s bracing for a lot, but not the horrible, sickening eye-crinkle thing todoroki does, dark eye twinkling even as her expression stays carefully impassive. “you think you can do better, then?”

“hah?”

“next time,” todoroki intones, very precisely, and then dips ahead like a complete coward as katsuki goes a color never previously visible to the human eye, sifting through about fifteen emotions before she decides to stick to outrage.

“what the hell? you suck at asking people out, icyhot!”

“you don’t have to say yes.”

“what, you think i can’t do better than this mess? you’re on, asshole.”

“i look forward to it,” todoroki says, gravely, and then there’s a collapsed building to handle and shit to do and if anyone wants to ask why katsuki is so especially gleeful in blowing shit up they wisely keep their mouths shut. she just likes the job, all right.

(for the record, it’s still not a date until katsuki says it is.)

[adventuresinwonderlust]

Title: Serious Inquiries Only: PART 5

*FOR PART 1 CLICK HERE, FOR PART 2 CLICK HERE, FOR PART 3 CLICK HERE, For PART 4 CLICK HERE or SEE MASTERLIST*

Pairing: dom! yoongi x reader ft. Hobi

Warnings: Talk of sexual favors, flirting, crack, humor, Slight angst, Dry Humping (M) (F), Daddy Kink, Glory Hole (M) Receiving.

Rating: 18 and over

Tag list: @mochilicious-yoongi​

Hobi:

“Let me get this straight, you applied for a VIP invite for Y/N to go to the SIO Annual Meet and Greet because you want to reveal yourself as Gloss to her?” Hobi angrily whispers to Yoongi across the table at the quaint diner on campus. “Yes, that’s exactly right.” Yoongi says with confidence, sipping his Iced Americano. “Can I give advice here?” Hobi lifts a finger in the air for permission. “No,” Yoongi clips, “Your advice is the reason I’m stuck in this shitty predicament. I want her Hobi, and I don’t want to wait anymore. I won’t compete with anyone and that includes myself.” “Ah Hyung. I just don’t want to upset her. She can really be, sensitive, you know. I don’t want this to trigger her to close off again like she did with Trevor.” “I’m not Trevor.” Yoongi states. “I know, I know but still. If she freaks out, she will just retreat into her own head and who knows when any of us will see her again.” Yoongi throws himself back, sighing in frustration. Hobi eyes him carefully, trying to gauge whether he is angry. “I’m sorry Hobi. I’m doing this. I sent the invitation already. Enough is enough. She deserves to know, and I deserve an end to this vicious cycle.” “I understand that but Hyung…” “Enough Hobi! I don’t care ok. I’m doing this,” Yoongi shouts, getting up now, pulling his wallet out, and placing money on the table, “I’m sorry to shout. I know you mean well. Breakfast on me. Talk later.”

Hobi enters the apartment he shares with Y/N, trying desperately to avoid her and/or a conversation with her. He shuts the door softly, locking it slowly, and hurrying towards his room. He sighs once he makes it safely, dropping his pouch on his bed and pulling off his jacket. He turns to flick the light on, yelling bloody murder at the sight of Y/N sitting at his computer desk. “What are doing in here?” He shouts. “I was lonely.” She shrugs. He pants, desperately, mumbling under his breath angrily. “I have request to fill today Y/N, so um, please, I need my desk.” He waves for her to move out of his seat. “Sitting in the dark like a creep.” He grumbles, starting his computer. “Did you see Yoongi today?” She inquires, hanging Hobi’s jacket in the closet for him. “Yeah, I did. We had breakfast.” “How is he?” “Good.” Hobi clips, trying to keep things short. “Did he mention me?” “Nope. We talked shop, normal stuff.” “Oh, I guess he’s still mad at me.” Hobi shrugs, “He didn’t mention it.” “Maybe I should go see him.” “Uh, no, he’s working now so, best leave it be.” She nods in response, fiddling with the items on Hobi’s desk. “I really like him Hobi, I just can’t get Gloss out of my head, like I felt a connection with him. I know it sounds dumb but it's true. I wish I was better at this relationship shit.” She sighs. Hobi looks at her as she aimlessly moves about his bedroom. “You know, I think the first step in all this would be to let go of all the shit that happened with Trevor. I feel like you never got over that and it's controlled your every decision since the two of you broke up. Forgive him, not because he deserves it but because you do.” Her eyes light up and she walks over to Hobi and hugs him. “You’re so smart Hobi and right. What would I do without you?” Hobi chuckles, pushing her away jokingly, “Alright, Alright, I’m still traumatized from Yoongi’s birthday. I don’t feel comfortable being this close to you yet.” She laughs, slapping Hobi’s arm and walking out of his room. Hobi throws his head back, groaning loudly, trying to relieve the stress accumulated at his shoulders.

Y/N:

You walk tall, confidence and anxiety fueling your every step. “I got this.” You continue to say over and over, finally arriving at your destination. You yank the door open, the bells chiming loudly as you enter. You walk to the counter and wait. In no time, a person emerges from the back, “Welcome to Iron Ink, how can I help…. Holy Shit. Y/N, hi. What are you doing here?” “Trevor, hi. I think it’s time we talked.”

Yoongi:

“I’ll take the thigh restraints.” Yoongi points at the leather thigh cuffs lined in fur. The employee behind the counter nods, handing him the box. Yoongi takes to reading the back, “Does this come with the wrist restraints?” He inquires. “Nah, but we have the matching ones in the back stock if you want them.” Yoongi nods. “You want the locks as well.” The employee asks. “Yeah, everything.” “You got it Gloss.” The employee says, heading to the back stock room. Yoongi takes to browsing the small shop, his eyes settling on a set of sterling silver nipple clamps. He takes the box off the shelf and reads the back. The employee emerges from the back. “Ah, those are a best seller.” He explains to Yoongi. “Do you have them in gold?” “I do actually.” Yoongi nods. “Excellent. I’ll take them in gold and get me rubber covers for them just in case, oh and more lube.” “You are going all out today. She must be special huh?” The employee smiles. “Very.” Yoongi mumbles, pulling out his credit card and handing it to the employee.

Y/N:

“I must admit, it’s a shock to see you after all this time. I mean, we didn’t end things well.” Trevor explains, pulling a chair out for you to sit in. You look around the back room, remembering all the times the two of you had fooled around back here when suddenly your heart drops and you imagine all the other women he must have fooled around with as well. “We didn’t, did we?” You turn to face him now. “No. I mean things were not good towards the end.” He chuckles. You eye him angrily. “What’s funny?” “Nothing. I mean you were kind of going crazy back then. Showing up unannounced and the arguing was just, well you remember.” “Maybe because my boyfriend was handing out free tattoos with every blowjob.” You snip. He sucks his teeth, sitting up straight. “You know I wasn’t doing that. I’m not going to say I was a saint cause I wasn’t but I wasn’t sleeping with clients.” “Bullshit,” You hiss, “Just be honest Trevor.” He shrugs. “So, you came here to hash things up again? I'm not really interested in doing that honestly. Like if you wanted to catch up and I don’t know, check in, then cool but I don’t want to talk about the past.” “Check in? You mean fuck? Not on your death bed would I bless you with this cunt again.” Trevor laughs out loud at your brazenness. “I know how wild you can get baby girl. Who's taking care of you now a days?” You roll your eyes at his pig-headed question but decide to give him what he wants. “Actually, Yoongi. You remember him, don’t you?” You lean back in the chair you're sitting in and cross your legs, resting your hands in your lap. Trevor tilts his head in confusion, and you watch in amusement as the wheels spin. “Wait a minute. That quiet dude that used to chill with Hobi? Get the fuck outta here. I always knew he had a crush on you. That’s interesting because you were always accusing me of cheating and here you are fooling around with the kid that drooled every time you walked by. Who's the pot and who's the kettle in this equation Y/N?”

You laugh out loud. “You are both pot and kettle. Had I just gotten with Yoongi and ignored you from the beginning I wouldn’t be sitting here looking for closure now.” “Oh, I see, you want closure. Well, here it is for you. You were hot, I knew that Yoongi kid wanted you but he’s an arrogant fuck and I wanted to one up him and guess what, I did. Tell him to enjoy my sloppy seconds.” You gasp, jumping from your seat and slapping Trevor across the face. “Fuck you Trevor! You’re trash. I can't believe it took me so long to realize it.” You say simply, heading out of the tattoo shop. “Hey, Y/N,” Trevor calls out to you, curiosity fueling you to spin and face him. “You said you wanted closure, well, here it is for you. I’m an asshole who played at being a decent guy to get you in my bed. Once I used you up, I went back to what I did best and that’s fuck around. We all have a cross to bear baby girl. I’m not ashamed of who I am. The question here is after all this time, have you figured out who you are without me?” You scoff at his statement, shaking your head, and releasing a huge sigh. “Yeah, I did Trevor, and I couldn’t have done it without you showing me exactly who you are, so thank you and I forgive you. Take care.” You pull the door open, the fresh air from outside blowing your hair back. You close your eyes and let it wash over you when you smile, feeling free finally, of Trevor, of the past.

Yoongi:

Yoongi arrives to his apartment, setting his goodie bags on the ground next to him and digging his keys out of his pocket to unlock the door. He grabs his bags once again and grips the knob, turning it and walking into the now locked door. “What the fuck?” He huffs, setting the bags down again and digging his keys out. He shoves them into their respective locks and turns the knob, throwing the door open. “Huh.” He whispers, wondering if he could’ve left this morning without locking the apartment. He grabs his bags and walks into the apartment carefully. He shuts the door quietly, reaching into the umbrella holder by the door for the bat he keeps there. He pulls it out gently and moves throughout his apartment. He notices his bedroom door open and lifts the bat up as he makes his way to his room. He shoves the door open quickly, shouting into the room, “Hands up!” “Well at least you practice safe sex.” His mother drawls, turning around from his bed with his box of condoms and silk ties in her hands.

Yoongi sighs in relief, “Eomma, what are doing in my things?” “I was straightening up this place. It needs a woman’s touch in here. Tell me what are these for? Do you tie women up for sexual pleasure? Are you a deviant?” Yoongi pinches at the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I am not a deviant no, please put those things back and next time don’t go through my things.” She turns around with a grunt, placing the items in the secret drawer she found them in. Yoongi spins and leaves the room, grabbing his bags from the adult store and hiding them in the hall closet. “Why didn’t you call?” He asks, his mother emerging from his room. “Can’t a mother surprise her son for his birthday?” She mumbles, moving around with purpose, inspecting his apartment. “My birthday passed already Eomma. You could’ve just called.” “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you in person. You’re always so busy now. I had to pop up.” “About that, that key I gave you, it’s for emergencies only.” “Today was an emergency. Motherly emergency. I haven’t heard from you in a while. How’s work?” She shuffles towards Yoongi’s office causing Yoongi’s heart to jump. “Uh, Eomma, come, let me make you tea. I’ll tell you all about work and show you some sheet music.” She stops, smiling at him with a nod. Yoongi turns and begins for the kitchen. “Oh,” He hears her yelp, “Tell me, is this used for piano lessons?” She comes from the hall, holding one of Yoongi’s goodie bags in one hand and the box of thigh restraints in the other.

Y/N:

“Ahhh, fuck, yeah, fuck! I'm cumming.” You cringe, hearing Hobi shout from his bedroom as you enter your apartment. You drop your keys on the counter, a shimmering silver envelope catching your eye. You grab it off the counter and are immediately surprised to see it’s addressed to you. You flip the envelope over and tear it open to reveal an invitation:

Dear WildGoddess11:

You have been exclusively invited to attend Serious Inquiries Only Annual Meet and Greet Event by one our top content creators Gloss93.

Our event will be held Saturday XX-XX-XXXX at 10pm. Please be sure to sign in at our VIP table to receive your exclusive VIP bracelet that will allow you access to some of our latest and greatest products and features, as well as mingle with some of the best content creators across our platform.

We look forward to meeting you.

Remember,

Serious Inquiries Only

Your jaw drops and your heart races as your eyes scan the invite over and over. You haven’t spoken to Gloss in a week and Hobi says he never attends the meet and greet. You needed to talk to Hobi, but you knew he'd kill you if you walked in while he was filming.

You pull your phone out of your pocket and text Hobi. ‘I need to talk to you ASAP, 911!’. In a frantic flash, Hobi emerges from his bedroom, throwing a shirt on over his head. “What's going on?” He pants. You simply lift the invite up in the air and allow him to take it from you. “Shit.” He whispers, reading the invite quickly, and slapping it in his palm nervously. “What should I do?” You ask, scanning his puzzled face.

“Hey, I’m going to head out. Thanks for the lunch break. Call me later?” A random female waves at you, having popped out of Hobi's room. Your gaze widens watching Hobi walk over and smooch the unknown female. “Sure thing beautiful. Talk soon.” He walks her out and closes the door, heading to the kitchen for a Gatorade. “What?” He asks, plopping down on the couch. “Who was that?” “Later for that. We have more pressing matters at hand.” He clips, raising the invite in the air. “Ok, so, do I accept the invite?” You shrug. Hobi drops his head back, grunting in frustration. “What?” You whine. “Nothing, it’s nothing. I guess I feel bad. This is all my fault. If I hadn't given you Gloss’ code, you wouldn’t be so confused about everything.” Hobi explains, running his fingers through his hair. “No, stop it. I am ok Hoseok, really. I am happy you gave me his code. You pushed me out of my shell and challenged me to get back out into the world. I love you. I mean, I couldn’t do any of this without you!” You walk over to Hobi now and drop down into his lap hugging him. “I love you too Y/N, even if you are a nasty freaking psycho sometimes.” You both burst into laughter, breaking the hug. “Hey, don’t think we aren’t going to address the random girl that just walked out of here. Spill it Hobi!!” You scold, smiling once you see the large grin spread across his face.

Yoongi:

Yoongi sighs deeply, exhausted from having dealt with his mother the night before. He always hated when she popped up on him unannounced, sneaking around his life, searching for some deep dark secret. Yoongi is thankful for his quick wit and being able to convince his mother that the items she found were for a gift for Hobi, whom she’s never met and now never wanted to. He spent the rest of the night, showing her his sheet music and lesson plans for his students, pulling out his old keyboard from his closet and playing for her until she was satisfied enough to leave. What should’ve been a quiet birthday dinner between mother and son, like normal people, turned into a night of mental tug of war. Yoongi drank back his Americano quickly, kicking himself for not getting a larger size, when his phone buzzed.

Goddess: I got your invitation to the meet and greet. I have to say I’m a little confused, why would you invite me to that? I’ve heard through the grapevine that you’ve never attended. Any reason for the change up?

Me: Yeah… you.

Goddess: I don’t understand.

Me: Promise you will.

Goddess: Well, in that case, I accept. You are officially unblocked. How will I recognize you?

Me: I’ll be wearing a white and gold mask. Text me when you arrive, and I’ll tell you where I am.

Goddess: I am so excited to finally see your face.

Me: I am excited to finally shed this mask.

Goddess: What does that mean?

“Hey.” Yoongi hears, his head popping up from his phone. He smirks catching Y/N put her phone in her pocket. Yoongi pulls in a deep breath. “So, why on earth are we meeting in the student library. It’s a bit, high school romance, no?” Y/N scoffs at Yoongi’s comment. “Actually, I felt like it’s a better option for us. Lots of people around. No funny business, just schoolwork.” Yoongi nods, grinning at her ridiculous assumption. “And using Hobi to get in contact with me, I mean, we aren’t kids.” “It just worked out that way Yoongi. Besides, you were a bit pissed at me last time we saw each other.” “Can you blame me?” “No, that’s why I chose the library. No temptation, out in the open.” She waves her arms around at the space and Yoongi chuckles at the empty space. “There’s no one here because its 9am. The library isn’t crowded until lunch time and I promise you there isn’t a surface in this place that doesn’t have some sticky substance on it.” Yoongi says with raised brows, shaking his head when her eyes pop open.

“Well, anyway I wanted to get started on our project now, so we have less to do later.” “Think you can focus long enough naughty girl?” Yoongi teases, leaning forward to brush his arm against hers. She slides over a bit, clearing her throat and pulling a notebook from her bag. “Did you have a topic in mind?” She asks, opening the notebook looking at Yoongi. “No, I actually haven’t really thought about it.” “Well, I was thinking of doing an expose on social media and the evolution of platforms like SIO.” She suggests causing Yoongi’s brows to fly upwards. “Uh, yeah, no. I’m not really interested in that. We should pick a subject that matters and that we know a lot about.” “Oh, come on, we can interview Hobi. I think it’ll be fun and outside the box.” Yoongi shakes his head, eyeing Y/N suspiciously. “So suddenly you’re the expert on SIO? Why the sudden interest?” He questions. “No reason other than the students at this school really love it and it’s a huge money-making platform.” She shrugs. “Bullshit. Give me your username and I’ll subscribe to your content.” Yoongi teases, trying to see if she’ll open the door for him to confess. She laughs out loud. “You’re adorable. I don’t have an SIO and if I did, you wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

Yoongi breaths in deeply, eyeing their surroundings to be sure it's still empty before leaning in to whisper in her ear. “You sure about that naughty girl? I seem to be handling you pretty well don’t you think?” “Uh, Yoongi, stop. We need to focus.” She whispers, tucking her hair behind her ear. Yoongi leans in closer, smelling her sweet perfume, his erection growing as his need flows throughout his body. “Do you really want me to stop? Because if you do, I’m going to need you to stop biting on your lip.” He whispers to her, lifting his hand to pull her bottom lip from her teeth. She groans at his touch, slamming her mouth into his. Yoongi takes a deep breath through his nose, raptured by her aggressive attack on his mouth. He moans as she shoves her tongue in his mouth, swirling hers around his until she can grasp his tongue with her lips and suckle on it. His cock strains in his jeans and he is grateful when she straddles him, driving her sex across his jailed member. “So much for focusing on schoolwork.” Yoongi groans between kisses. “Shut up before I change my mind.” She pants, grinding down harder into his lap. “Fuck.” Yoongi grunts, lifting her up and sitting her onto the desk in front of him. He takes her mouth into another lustful kiss, making his way down her neck, nipping at the soft flesh.

He stands up straight, making himself comfortable between her legs. “Yoongi…” She whines. “Shh. You wouldn’t want anyone to hears us would you,” He warns, gripping her by hips and pulling her forward until her sex is pressed firmly against his massive hard on, “Now, do daddy a favor and let him watch you fuck yourself against his cock. Quickly naughty girl, it seems like there’s a crowd building in here.” He teases, hitching his hips forward to run across her clit. She gasps at the feeling, taking no time in grinding against him again. He takes her hips and pulls her closer against him, the feeling of her trembling walls teasing his cock in the most amazing way. Her head falls back and Yoongi drinks in the sight of her panting and moaning softly, her wetness beginning to soak into the front of his jeans. “That’s it naughty girl. Just like that.” He encourages, moaning softly when she picks up her speed, her cunt flicking across his clothed tip. “Shit. You keep that up and you just might make me cum in my jeans. Would you like that naughty girl?” “Yes.” She whimpers, hooking one of her legs around his waist and pulling Yoongi closer to her core. She grips the back of his shirt tightly, moaning softly. “Please, daddy, suck my tits.” She begs, yanking down her top now, to expose one of her perky nipples. Yoongi growls, leaning his head down to wrap his pout around the pert bud, rolling his tongue along her piercing, a loud moan escaping her throat but Yoongi could care less if they are caught now.

His cock is too hard, and her cunt too soaked for him to ever stop now. He hums around her nipple, releasing it quickly and taking over the situation, feeling his climax building with every flick across his sensitive tip. He yanks her closer, wrapping both her legs around his waist and begins to hitch his hips upwards, gliding his needy erection across her sex, wondering when the last time he dry humped anyone was. She moans wildly causing Yoongi to cover her mouth as he wraps his arm around her waist, humping her faster and faster. Her breath quickens and thighs begin to shake. “Hold on for me naughty girl. I’m so close.” He grunts, his body burning, balls tightening, and stomach clenching. He grips her mouth tightly, panting into her ear, “I’m going to cum.” She nods her head, reaching up to pull his hand from her lips. “Me too, me too.” She moans. Yoongi groans as quietly as he can, his hot seed spurting out onto his balls and dripping down his jeans to his thigh. Y/N on the other hand, cries out loudly, biting onto Yoongi’s neck to hush herself before he can cover her mouth. “Fuck!” Yoongi hisses as Y/N clenches down harder on his neck, slowly releasing him when she comes down from her high. They are both panting messes when Yoongi takes a step back. She doesn’t say anything for a while, she just slides off the desk, gathering her things. “Yoongi, I…”  He looks her over and scoffs. “Yeah, yeah. I know how this goes. You gotta go right? This was wrong and what not. It's cool. I have to go home and shower anyway. I like the SIO idea.” He clips, trying to keep his composure. “Really? So, we’re good?” She inquires. He nods, not having a care in the world, safe in the knowledge that all will be revealed at the meet and greet.

HOBI:

“You look amazing Y/N.” Hobi smiles at his friend in her Rose pink skintight mini dress. “Do you think Gloss will like it?” She twirls. “I think he’s going to love it.” “I think it suits being a VIP at a fancy meet and greet event.” She giggles. “It definitely does, well, I'm gonna go ahead if you’re ok. The content creators are always asked to arrive before the event starts.” “I'm good. Go have fun and I'll see you there.” She waves him off. He takes her in one more time, feeling warm at how bright and happy she looks. “You really look great Y/N.” “Thanks Hobi.” He nods and head out the door.

He arrives at the event, smiling wide when he sees Yoongi clad in an all-black suit, clutching a white and gold full face mask. “How phantom of the opera of you.” He notes. Yoongi chuckles, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “I don’t know Hoseok, maybe this was a bad idea.” “No, no, no. Hey come on, Fighting! You got this! She looks amazing tonight by the way. You’re gonna drop dead. She’s just glowing, really.” Hobi can't help but gloat, leading Yoongi into the event. Yoongi slides his mask on, following closely behind Hobi. “Really? I can't wait to see her and get this charade over with.” “I just hope she remembers that we are friends and I have loved and supported her all these years, you know for when she goes to kill us.” Hobi laughs loudly. They approach the sign in table for content creators and check in, walking about the event. “Shit, look at this place.” Yoongi notes, looking around the space in amazement. “Yeah, last year they had GO-GO dancers, a motorcycle show, the works. This year I hear they have a lot of high-tech sex toys.” Hobi watches as Yoongi just nods, still looking about. “Hey, listen, I wanted to tell you something.” Hobi cuts in, drawing Yoongi’s attention. “What’s up?” Yoongi asks. “I asked Hannah to be my girlfriend.” Yoongi stops, turning to Hobi. “Shit. You really like her huh? Well, I called it. I'm happy for you Hoseok. Maybe after Y/N kills us we can all double date.” Hobi laughs loudly, patting Yoongi on the back. “For sure and you really did call it didn’t you. Great intuition I’m telling you.” Hobi praises, pushing Yoongi further into the event.

Y/N:

You arrive at the event on time, making your way over to the VIP table to check in. You take a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves you can't seem to shake. “Your name.” The check in clerk asks and you lean in close to give it to her. She smiles widely, handing you a VIP lanyard. “Enjoy the event. You’re super lucky, this is the first time that this content creator has ever attended an event.” You smile and nod, cringing when you walk away at the added nerves from the clerk's comment.

Me: I’m here.

Gloss: I’m in the VIP showroom.

Me: Ok, I am going to come find you.

Gloss: I'll be waiting.

You move through the event with ease, stopping every so often to check out some of the vendors and even chat with other content creators, buying time before you have to meet with Gloss, your nerves at an all-time high. You walk through the curtain to the VIP showroom, flashing your VIP tag to the security guard as you enter. You check out some of the vendor tables as you pass by, eyes widening at all the amazing new tech they offer. You stop at a table, checking out the toys at the table, your eyes scanning a vibrating anal plug. “40 percent off for VIPs.” The vendor says out loud to you. “Uh, that’s ok. I was just looking.” “Sure thing. It has 4 different speeds plus it heats up when the speeds increase.” “Wow.” You giggle. “Yeah, it’s a best seller on our website. Take my card.” He hands it to you and you nod, putting it in your clutch and walking off.

You make your way towards the back of the showroom and stop again at these two huge connected pods. “What on earth is this?” You mumble. “Ah, I’m glad you asked,” A very enthusiastic vendor boasts, “This here is a state of the art, never before seen, Glory Hole.” “Like a bathroom glory hole.” He laughs at your statement. “Essentially yes but this one is much cleaner and more intimate. It has a larger more comfortable, adjustable hole for the gentlemen as well as a vibrating saddle for the ladies to sit comfortably and get her own pleasure. Our technology is state of the art, the walls are full on touch sensitive and ignite with bursting colors when you or your partner touch or glide your hands against them. There is also a panel on the wall that allows for complete communication between the two pods, you can switch between three modes. First mode disguises the voice if you want to keep things nice and discreet, Second Mode allows you to talk naturally with your normal speaking voice if that’s what you prefer, and Mode Three shuts the coms off so your partner won’t be able to hear you. The panel also controls the lights in the room and the colors of the walls. So, what do you think? You wanna give it a go?” Your eyes pop open. “Excuse me?” You snap. The vendor laughs, “Not with me. Uh, whomever you’re here with, a content creator or boyfriend. We are offering testing for 60 percent off when you leave a review and refer a friend. We completely sanitize the room after every use, although you’d be the first using it tonight if you sign up and there are also UV lights in the room, constantly killing germs. We are quite popular at parties. I can always give you my card if you aren’t interested now. I know it’s a lot of information.”

Gloss: Where are you? Please don’t tell me you got cold feet.

You look down at the message, your heart fluttering, hearing Hobi’s voice in your head, ‘Be brave.’ “You know what, I think I am interested in trying it now.” “Great!” The vendor smiles, leading you over to the table to set up your payment. You swipe your card and send Gloss a text.

Yoongi:

Goddess: Meet me by the Giant Blue Pods, ask for Marcus.

Yoongi sighs, walking quickly towards the back of the showroom. He soon sees the giant blue pods and begins to look around for Y/N. “Are you Gloss?” A man approaches. “Uh, Yeah. Are you Marcus?” “Yeah,” The man sticks his hand out for Yoongi to shake. Yoongi shakes it, puzzled when Marcus turns his hand over to admire it. Yoongi’s brow furrows and he pulls his hand back. “Sorry man, I heard a lot about your hands.” “Uh, ok. Thanks, I think.” “Definitely a compliment. Anyway, you aren’t here for me. Right this way.” Marcus states, leading Yoongi towards the door on the left. “I don’t understand. I am supposed to be meeting someone.” Yoongi explains. “I know. Panel on the wall controls the coms. First mode is to disguise your voice, second comp is to speak naturally, Third shuts coms off completely. Otherwise, just have fun.” Marcus opens the door and Yoongi enters it, hearing the lock click once inside. “Welcome Gloss.” The Pod speaks causing Yoongi to jump back. “It’s me, Goddess.” Yoongi removes his mask, walking toward the panel on the wall and clicking on the first mode to disguise his voice. “What’s all this about?” He asks. Looking around at how the room lights up pink and blue when she giggles. “I was nervous to see you face to face so I figured this was easier.” He nods, running his fingers along the wall, jumping back when he sees it light up red. “Cool right?” She laughs. “What is this thing? A confessional?” He moves about the empty room. “It’s a modern-day Glory Hole.” She giggles, Yoongi smiling when the room lights up with her laugh.

“Are you serious?” “Sure am.” “And what exactly are we doing in a Glory Hole?” She giggles again. “I wanted to be able to speak freely but I was super nervous for some reason, silly I know, and since I know how much your anonymity means to you, I figure this was the best option. Besides, you never did show me your cock.” Yoongi laughs now, the room lighting up orange and red. “Did you set these lights up?” “I did, do you like it? I can change it or you can with the panel on the wall. I was waiting for you so I had to time to play with the settings.” “And the wall, it lights up too.” He inquires, moving towards the wall and placing his palm against it, a ring of red burst from beneath it. “Yeah, every time we touch it.” She explains, a burst of pink light emerging from beneath Yoongi’s palm which leads him to believe she is pressing her palm against his. “I want to see you. I have to talk to you face to face.” Yoongi swallows, dropping his hand. “We aren’t face to face but feel free to talk.” “Its better if we are face to face.” “I want you Gloss.” Yoongi scoffs. “You don’t even know me.” “Of course, I do and I’ve never been more attracted to someone in my life.” Yoongi scoffs at her comment, his heart nearly breaking at the thought that he’s lost Y/N to Gloss, an alter ego. “You really don’t.” “Don’t you want me?” She practically moans, causing Yoongi’s cock to twitch. “Of course I do.” He whispers, pressing his hands against the wall, smirking when the red bursts of light shoot out.

The machine makes a sudden whirring sound and Yoongi gasps at the sudden feeling of a hand on his crotch. He looks down to see a square opening in the wall, Y/N’s hand poked through rubbing at his growing erection. “Fuck.” He moans, pressing his crotch into her palm. “Let me suck your cock, please Gloss. I want you so bad.” She moans. The lights in the room suddenly dim and Yoongi moves towards the panel to try to turn them back on, not sure what he’s clicked on. He sucks his teeth, fiddling with his belt buckle, pouting when he sees her hand disappear through the hole. He frees his cock from its confines and begins to stroke it, his head falling back. “How do we do this?” He asks but she doesn’t respond. “You still there?” Her voice comes through. “Yeah.” He grunts, slowing his strokes down. She doesn’t respond and he realizes he’s turned his coms off. “Shit, hold on.” He says, moving towards the panel. “I don’t know what happened but put your cock through the hole baby.” She says in the neediest voice and Yoongi clicks on the panel button quickly, moving towards the hole and sticking his cock through. He immediately feels her hot wet tongue glide across his slit and he moans out, pressing his body firmly against the wall, biting down on his lip as the room cascades blue. She swirls her tongue gently around his tip, teasingly taking him inch by inch into her warm mouth. Yoongi bites down harder on his lip, stifling back the moan in his throat.

She soon moans around his cock, sending shockwaves through out his core, a soft vibrating sound filling his pod. Yoongi can’t hold back anymore, a loud groan escaping when she begins to bob back forth across his full length. “Shit.” He cries out when she takes him to the back of her throat, the sounds of her gagging filling his pod. He reaches down and cups his balls, tugging on them as she begins to bob on his cock again, pull back to his tip, suckling at the sensitive head, eliciting an animal like sound from him. He slams his fist against the wall, a red flash bursting throughout the room. She removes her mouth from his length, gasping and moaning out loud, sending chills down his spine. “Fuck Goddess. You sound so fucking sexy.” “I don’t know if you can hear me,” She begins, “But I’m so fucking wet, gliding my pussy across this vibrating saddle. I wish I was wrapped around your cock.” “Fuck.” He groans, stretching his arm out to try and reach the coms panel to turn it back on first mode. He strains, unable to keep his cock in the hole and reach the panel. He contemplates removing his member from the hole to turn on the coms when Y/N takes his cock back in her mouth.

“Fucking shit.” He cries out, the feeling of her running her tongue along the sensitive skin beneath his tip. He strains once again to reach the panel, his middle finger tapping the panel, her groan filling his pod when his cock slides from her lips. “Sorry baby.” He pants, standing tall now. “Can you hear me now?” He asks but Y/N just slurps his cock back into her mouth, using nothing but her tongue and hollowed mouth to yank him back towards her, his body hitting the wall. “Shit, you take my cock so well. Such a good girl for me.” She begins to bob faster, the walls lighting up pink at what Yoongi assumes are her hands against the wall. She moans frantically against his cock, her pace only quickening and Yoongi wonders if she’s close to cumming. He closes his eyes, imaging what she looks like right now, gliding her sopping cunt across that saddle, his cock hitting her throat. He moans freely now, hitching his hips forward uncontrollably as he keeps pace with her. He bends his knees a bit when she begins to gag and swallow his cock down her throat. The sweet sensation of her soft palate rubbing against his tip. She moans harder, swallowing more and more of him, his legs begin to shake as his balls tighten into his body. “Fuck baby, you’re so fucking amazing. I’m going to fucking cum. Shit.” He moans unabashedly, slamming his fist hard against the wall to warn her, since he knows she can’t hear him.

Her moans are louder now and desperate, and Yoongi just knows she cumming, the feeling of her throat vibrating around his cock sending him over the edge. “Oh. My. Fucking. God. Y/N, fuck, I’m fucking cumming baby.” He cries out, slamming his hip against the wall, his cock nestled firmly in her throat as his orgasm shoots out from his tip, coating her throat. She swallows him back with ease, sucking him through his high, pulling away and lapping the last bits of his arousal off his tip. He presses his forehead against the wall, laughing when it lights up the room pink. He moves towards the coms to turn them back on as he tucks himself away. He squints at the panel, his heart dropping when he sees its on the Second Mode. “FUCK! Y/N!” He shouts, looking down to be sure his cock is away and yanking on the booth door until it clicks open. He moves towards the door where Y/N should be and yanks it open…. EMPTY. “FUCK!” Yoongi yells. Marcus approaching him. “Hey man, she ran out. Everything ok?” “Yeah,” Yoongi pants, “Did you see which way she went?” Marcus points towards the exit of the VIP showroom and Yoongi goes running after her. He sprints towards the exit, slamming into Hobi. “Hyung, what the fuck is going on?” Yoongi is panting, desperately trying to catch his breath. “I fucked up Hobi, she left. I fucked it all up, I’m so fucking stupid!” He yells. “Hey, hey. Calm down. Put your mask on, people are looking at us.” Hobi warns. Yoongi puts his mask on happily, warm tears streaming down his face. “I fucked it all up.” He whispers. “Calm down Hyung. Let me call her ok. See where she is.” Yoongi shakes his head trying to stop Hobi from making the call. “Hey where are you?” Hobi asks on speaker phone. “Of all the men who would break my heart Hoseok, I never thought it’d be you.” She says with briefly, hanging up the phone. “What the fuck did you do?” Hobi turns to Yoongi, his face flushed red, an anger Yoongi has yet to see.

[themysteriousauthor18]

Your worth it [Radiodust oneshot]

"Care to explain why you are late again this evening." 

"I toldja I was out with someone!" 

This isn't what Angel needed right now. He just got back to the hotel and it was a little over midnight. 12:05 to be precise. Clearly, Alastor had an issue with it. Since Vaggie nor Charlie could get him to follow that curfew, Alastor had been put in charge. 

It wasn't like he hadn't been trying to get back in time, but it didn't matter how hard he tried. 

Naturally, Charlie and Vaggie were also in the room, standing behind Alastor watching as he tore Angel apart, metaphorically of course. Vaggie scoffed crossing her arms and rolled her eyes. Normally Charlie, who was behind her, would have intervened but she seemed to justify it this time.

What a load of bullshit was that?

"So you were out with another of your 'clients.'" Alastor asked his tone firm.

With the day Angel had that tone sounded smug which only pissed him off more when in reality it was just how Alastor talked and merely a simple question. He just wanted to go to his room and deal with any punishments later.

Angel crossed his upper set, lower on his hips as he glared right back at the deer demon. "Maybe it was a fuckin' guy who was takin' me out fa dinner you don't fucking know!"

Alastor laughed, "right. Like anyone would date you, a slut." 

"Alastor!" Charlie interjected her eyes growing wide at the clear overstep. 

"What? I am merely stating facts, my dear. You truly believe anyone in their right mind would actually compliment him on anything besides his sexual favors? Give him flowers, or even give him a letter that isn't-"

"Alastor enough." Charlie sternly said, eyes meeting her business partners. Alastor didn't understand what the big deal was, that was until he looked back at Angel dust.

He wasn't crying, no of course not. But his eyes held a clear gloss over them. Nails dug into his arm and clothing but the look on his face practically spat venom.

It was then he realized he'd gone too far. He didn't know what to say, 'sorry' obviously was appropriate. But no words found their way to his mouth as he stared at that expression.

"Angel, Alastor didn't mean it. I'm sure anyone would wanna-"

The arackniss laughed it off as he quickly brushed by, the bar cat watched from his place behind the counter. Eyes just as wide as Charlie's and even Vaggie who knew it had gone too far. 

"No he's right.," Angel muttered, voice strained. "Who'd eva love a slut like me. It's all I'm good for is sex."  

"Angel that's not what he was saying!" Charlie tried but Angel was already walking out of the room, making the excuse of feeling tired and needing to sleep. Though it wasn't entirely false. 

Alastor stared at the spot Angel had been in, only turning once the spider had left the room. His smile tightened and although the others couldn't see, his nails dug into the palms behind his back.

"Alastor that was so mean! You shouldn't say such hurtful things!" Charlie said with a disapproving frown.

Vaggie wrapped an arm around her girlfriend shaking her head as she pulled her away. Even Husk was shaking his head at the radio demon before turning his back away and chugging down some alcohol. 

The demon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Perhaps he had gone too far. 

"You gotta fix that. Kids not gonna be too happy with you if you don't at least say sorry." Husk announced. 

Alastor looked back at the hall. "..Yes, perhaps you're right." Although he didn't doubt what he said was true, it was uncalled for. 

The redhead briskly walked out of the lobby and down the hall to Angel's room. Near the end, he stopped at one of the many doors and gently knocked. It sounded quiet, normally he would have heard some sort of music from inside or something breaking from the other times Angel had lashed out.

There was no response to the knock, understandable. So he tried again, this time hearing shuffling from inside followed by a hiss of some sort. He took a step back, folding his hands behind his back, and waited. But when there was no answer to the door, nor any indication that there would be, he decided to speak.

"Angel? This is Alastor." No response. "I recognize that what I had said may have been out of line and I would like to apologize." Still no response. 

The redhead sighed and shook his head. "Angel? Are you there?" At times Alastor wasn't great at picking up on social cues, right now was one of those times. 

He was apologizing, isn't that what Angel desired? Why not simply open the door and accept it? Then they could be on their merry way. 

Alastor took a step back, deciding it best to just leave the spider to his tantrum. But when he heard the all too audible footsteps followed by the door opening he turned back. 

Angel stood in the doorway, his usual attire wrinkled, mascara running down his white fur eyes puffy and red. A blanket was lazily draped around his shoulders held up by his top set while the bottom held himself. 

Alastor simply flashed his usual smile, the fake one. "Ah there you are, I hope there are no hard feelings between us. You do understand that-" 

"Your fucking fake Alastor!" Angel suddenly yelled.

His words caught Alastor off guard, he couldn't remember the last time someone had dared speak to him in such away. The last person who had ended up being his dinner for the night. 

His eyes narrowed, grin widening. "You are certainly one to talk Angel. You are the very definition of it." Alastor spat back. 

Angel's grip around the blanket tightened, baring his own teeth. "Oh, you just came ta insult me some more hah!? Your only apologizing 'cause Charlie got on ya fuckin' ass for it! I don't need your damn pity! I know what I am I don't need you to fucking tell me!" 

Alastor for the first time in years found himself at a loss for words. And before he could gather any the door was being slammed in his face with enough force to cause his monocular to fall off. 

He rolled his eyes, the spider would calm down in time. He always did, this would all blow over in a few days.

It didn't. 

1 week had passed and while Angel seemed back to his usual self it was clear he now had some strong animosity towards the radio demon. Whether he'd always had it and was now showing it, or it was the result of their argument was undecided. 

He behaved normally towards everyone else in the hotel, drinking with Husk, helping Charlie out where he could, and only occasionally messing with Vaggie. 

But Alastor, he wouldn't even look at the man. And when the radio demon directly approached him he would walk off. 

It was no secret, everyone had noticed it including Alastor. 

Angel would only occasionally hit on the radio demon and that was whenever the redhead approached him or he was told to. Otherwise, they didn't speak, that had been how things were between them before all of this. 

Truly, it was a blessing to no longer have those comments. At least, he thought it would be. He didn't miss him, no no. To miss someone you had to enjoy their company in the first place. 

No, it was...simply exhausting. 

With Angel being the hotel's prime and first client there was a lot of advertisement involved. And quite a lot of times Alastor or Charlie would handle them, lately, Charlie had to handle them since the spider wouldn't even speak to Alastor. 

Truly it was just, problematic. 

"Your gonna have to fix this," Husk told, pouring a generous glass of whisky. He'd need it.

"Yes Husker I am well aware," Alastor replied, sipping the drink. 

"And you tried apologizing?" The cat poured a glass for himself. 

"Yes, but the stubborn fool wouldn't accept it. He insists on fighting about this when there is truly no point in it." Alastor shook his head as if it were all so crystal clear.

Husk gave him a look as he leaned on the bar. "I know your new to friends and everything-"

"He is no friend of mine," Alastor said into his glass.

"Yeah, sure." Husk grumbled. "But you can't just say something like that and expect them to forgive you just like that. Not how people work kid." 

Alastor scoffed at the term, even if Husk was older than him he didn't like being addressed as such. "Then what am I supposed to do? Hm? This little tantrum of his has become quite troublesome for my work."

Husk rolled his eyes as he finished his drink, refilling it. He knew what Angel was feeling wasn't a tantrum and was justified, but he knew Alastor too. He wasn't going to listen, he'd have to just learn the hard way. 

"Figure it out. Your problem, you clean it up." 

Alastor's eyes glowed, an obvious annoyance behind them. But Husk knew as well as he that the radio demon wouldn't kill him. Not unless he crossed a line. The cat didn't fear death but welcomed it, so there wasn't much he could do to punish him or scare him. 

Husk met his glare, not backing down or cowering like most of hells citizens would in this situation. He'd stared death in the face during life more times than he could count, he wasn't about to cower just because some pissy deer man was glaring at him. 

After a moment, Alastor huffed and shot back the rest of his drink before setting it down on the counter. As per usual, Husk was right. 

"Fine. I shall think of something." Alastor grumbled as he pushed off the bar and begun walking towards the exit. 

"Good luck." Husk offered as Alastor left the hotel for the afternoon. 

He didn't know what day it was, nor the month. Then again time was irrelevant in hell.  All he knew was that he was tired and wanted to sleep. 

It had been another hard day at the studio filled with its usual challenges and little rewards. With the shooting for his new film coming out, the clients and then having to deal with Valentino's horrible attitude, it was all too much for today.

Not to mention his temper that had gotten him into trouble in the first place and the bruises on his face. Make-up would cover it up, or at least that was Valentino's excuse. 

The spider trudged to his door, the sky had darkened long ago. Sleep. That's all he wanted. 

Walking to his room he expected a lot of things, mainly Charlie ambushing him and trying to convince him to 'make up' with Alastor. He didn't see the point, it was Alastor who had crossed the line, to begin with. And frankly, he no longer wanted to deal with the man.

When he reached the door of his room, something greeted him that he did not expect. 

Sitting on the floor in front of his door lay a red envelope closed with a wax seal. 

With a grown, lower pair holding himself, he leaned down and picked up the envelope walking into his room with it. Fat nuggets greeted him, the only highlight of his day. He picked up the small pig in his lower set and sat himself down on the bed. 

He switched his lamp on as he settled onto his small pink bed. It wasn't the best but it was something, and that's what mattered, to him at least. 

He sighed as he removed the seal and opened the envelope. It was probably one of his creepy fans sending him another letter. He didn't mind it, it came with the job. What he did mind was that they were being sent to his room in the hotel. He wanted this to be a place where he could get away from that, not having to deal with it still.

Oh well.

As he pulled the red? A red paper? Okay, that was strange.

As he pulled the red paper from the envelope, discarding that he turned it over in his hands, his brows knitting together in confusion. It wasn't a letter about how much this person loved his body, movies, or any of that, hell there weren't even any stains on it. It wasn't even a letter.

It just had a single sentence written on it in neat cursive. 

You are nice

Angel wasn't sure how to feel about this. His first thought was that this was a prank, but then remembered nobody in the hotel pulled pranks, except maybe Nifty. But she didn't talk with him much.

Maybe it was sent to the wrong place? 

Angel shook his head, far too tired to try and figure this out. Still, even if it wasn't meant for him the note was nice even if he didn't believe it or if it wasn't true. 

He smiled briefly and carefully set the paper on his vanity somewhere where his pig couldn't get it. 

With that out of the way, the spider flopped onto his bed, allowing the much-needed sleep to take him as his mind buzzed around the sentence on the note and the mysterious person who wrote it. 

He thought that was the end of it, but the next evening when he returned from the studio, just like the previous night another letter greeted him in the same spot. Same envelope, same-colored paper, and same hand-writing. 

Doing the same as he had the previous night, he opened the letter again, this time a new sentence greeted him.

You are good

Angel huffed at the message, if this was an accident then it was a nice one. If there had been an address anywhere he would have perhaps written back and let them know of the mix-up. But there wasn't.

Still, he enjoyed it while it lasted. He was sure the person they were intended for would notify the other that they weren't getting them and this would end, but for now he would enjoy it. 

As the days went on, Angel continued to get a new letter each day upon returning to his room. Each and every single one held the same red paper and envelope and always had just one sentence neatly written in cursive on it.

At first, the messages seemed awkward but with each new one, they appeared more genuine than the last.

You are smart

You are brave

You are strong 

You are powerful 

And then those notes branched off into longer messages with more emotion behind them.

You glow brighter than any star.

You are incredibly selfless 

Your smile is a rare and beautiful site. 

And then came the latest one...

You are worth it.

This had been going on for another week at the very least and Angel found himself looking forward to them. He didn't know who they came from, but he could imagine that they were meant for him.

"Whatever you did must be working," Husk muttered from behind the bar. Alastor sat on the other side, sipping his whisky as he worked on some papers.

"What makes you say that?" He asked, not looking up from his work.

  Husk was polishing a glass as he looked to the redhead. "Kids seemed more chipper than usual. He left this morning smiling like an idiot and actually wanted to help that princess with cleaning yesterday. What did you do put a spell on him?"

Alastor chuckled, sipping his drink a more genuine smile falling on his lips. "No. Merely an....experiment you could say." One that seemed to be working. 

Truthfully the first few had been just cliche greetings and compliments, but in his more...recent ones, they had been rather genuine. 

Angel still refused to speak to him, but that was fine. He wasn't outright walking away whenever he got close to him now, but still wouldn't talk. 

He couldn't help but observe Angel these past days, noticing just how kind he could be whenever those rare moments presented themselves. He'd offered to help Charlie with cleaning, Nifty with cooking, and even held a decent conversation with Vaggie without fighting. 

And while there were times Angel could be rather vulgar, he found he had his moments where he shined like a star. Just the other evening he'd stumbled upon the spider teaching the princess a bit of dancing, likely during their cleaning. 

Of course, once he was noticed the spider went cold once again. 

It was a side that he didn't know Angel could have. And it fascinated him. 

"Hey Husky~" The voice came from behind, Alastor didn't bother turning already knowing who it was. 

The cat rolled his eyes as the spider strolled up to the bar, hopping onto one of the stools, noticeably away from the redhead who he pretended wasn't there. 

"The fuck do you want." Husk grumbled, per usual.

Angel wasn't affected, he was wearing a dress today, and his make up a little heavier. He'd just gotten back. "A drink~" He purred.

Husk shook his head with a groan as he got to work on getting the spider a drink.

Alastor kept his gaze off the spider, knowing it wasn't wanted nor was he. But he wasn't going to move just because Angel was here, he had work to do. 

As Husk prepared the drink, Angel leaned on the bar a small smile on his lips. He did appear more chipper, but with Alastor there, it did make things a bit awkward. 

"You look like haven just accepted your ass. What you get some good dick for once?" Husk asked, placing the pink drink in front of Angel. 

The spider hummed, sipping the straw lightly as he maintained that smile. "Nah, but let's go with that." 

Husk shrugged, not prying. It wasn't his business, but he already knew why the spider was behaving this way and who was behind it. Not that he was going to say anything. 

"I'll be right back." Husk grumbled, turning to leave the bar. Angel piped up, alarmed as he grabbed the cat's arm.

"Were ya goin' Husky? You don't wanna hang with me?" Angel said, batting his eyes but the anxiety was there.

Husk gave him a look. "Can't I fuckin' take a leak? Damn. You're a big boy you'll be fine." He grumbled as he pulled his arm away.

It was an excuse but the pair needed an obvious talk and he sure as hell wasn't going to be around for it. 

Angel frowned as Husk left the room, leaving just him and the radio demon alone at the bar. He slumped down against the bar, keeping his eyes on the drink. His stomach churned, he wanted to get up and leave but at the same time knew he had to confront this eventually.

Just not today. 

At least that was his excuse, he would finish his drink and then go back to his room. He was never good at confrontation.

Alastor knew what Husk was doing and didn't miss the fear in Angel's voice. Not fear of him, but for being alone with him. 

He closed his eyes, sighing, and set the papers aside. This confrontation was inevitable, it was bound to happen eventually. 

The redhead looked to his side, only noticing just how Angel was dressed. It was tacky at best, but that was only because he found Angel more appealing without all the make-up. It was that raw bare-bone self that he enjoyed seeing. 

The real Angel, not this facade. 

He cleared his throat, watching for any indication that Angel wanted to speak to him. He flinched but didn't look his way. Of course.

Lord, what was he supposed to say in this situation. 

"You are wearing quite a lot of make-up today.." Not that.

Angel frown turned into a scowl at the comment but didn't offer a reply, hit pace on the drink quickened. 

"Not that there's anything wrong with that..." Alastor quickly added it didn't seem to help. 

Angel shook his head, finishing his drink. "You can tell Charlie to stop pressuring you I'll fuckin' tell her I forgive you." Even though he didn't. 

Alastor's smile faltered as Angel pushed off the bar and started for the hall, a week back he would have let him go. Wouldn't have cared but this time for whatever reason, he did to some extent. Whether it was the desire to be forgiven or to no longer have that cold towards him.

He quickly followed after the spider who was briskly walking down the hallway. He had to say something. So in this moment of panic and limited time frame, his mind decided to blur out,

"You're worth it!" 

He mentally smacked himself. 

He didn't know if the reaction was positive or not, but he caused the spider to stop dead in his tracks. 

Alastor ground his teeth together at the deafening silence that lasted for five minutes at the very least. He was truly contemplating just turning around and leaving the hallway, pretending this never happened. 

But refrained from doing so when Angel turned and looked at him, not with anger but pure confusion. 

"What." He finally said. 

Alastor hesitated, cursing at the ears on his head folding back at his anxiety bubbling up in his chest. He swore these feelings were destroyed long ago.

"You... you're worth it." He slowly repeated. 

Angel just stared, wide-eyed as the gears in his head worked to click the pieces together. Alastor stood like a statue, his body tense. 

"You wrote those notes," Angel said his voice strained. Alastor opened his mouth to reply but was at a loss for words. "Seriously!?" Angel's voice raised as he spun around, not marching up to Alastor and aggressively poking his chest. "You think it's fuckin' funny playing these pranks on me!? Huh! Your pretty fucking sick Alastor!" 

"Angel let me explain please!" Alastor's voice raised, something that didn't happen very often if at all.

Angel was back to glaring at the deer demon, he clicked his tongue and crossed his arms. "You got five minutes." 

He didn't know why he felt the need to explain himself, or maybe he did know why and just didn't want to acknowledge it. Either way, he wanted to try at the very least to mend the tear in whatever it was they had.

"I'm not very good with words nor emotions." Alastor started with, ears still pressed down against his head, showing his true feelings despite the now smaller smile on his lips. 

He continued, "I am not very good with people. Their desires yes..but not truly befriending them." 

"Four minutes," Angel stated bitterly.

"What I said to you crossed a line." 

"Yeah, it did." 

"But I did not mean to offend you. Even if it appeared that way, Husker aside, I've never met someone such as you either Angel. Someone who has no problem putting me in my place and not fearing me. I am not sure what to say that could mend what I've said nor am I sure there is anything I could say except, I'm sorry. And Charlie is by no means forcing me to this, it's all my own choice." 

Angel sighed, his eyes glued to Alastor and that expression. "I don't know if I can forgive you right now.." Angel muttered. 

"I understand," Alastor answered calmly. 

"Why the notes..was that just a game." 

Alastor shook his head. "I wanted to apologize, but I didn't know how. Even if I am not forgiven I believe it's only right that you deserve some sort of happiness here." 

A silence fell between them as Angel processed it all and Alastor tried to maintain eye contact, resisting the urge to walk away. 

"Didja mean it," Angel asked, an uncharacteristically serious look to those mismatched eyes. "Your notes." 

"At first, no." He answered honestly. "But the more I wrote them they began to become genuine." 

Angel huffed shaking his head. "You got a crush on me or somethin' Smiles?" He joked, lightly. 

Alastor smile tightened. "I don't know." His answer was honest and vulnerable something Angel didn't expect.

Angel colors tinted red in surprise. "Uh.." 

Alastor looked away, his own face turning a shade of red. "You are..different, and it's intriguing." 

Angel scoffed, unraveling his arms. "Yeah, I'm different alright. Sex worker 'in shit." 

"Yes, you are.." Alastor looked up. "But I've come to realize that you are far more than that. That you are indeed worth it." 

Angel's lips turned up into a small smile, the genuine tone in the deer's voice being more than enough of an indication that he was being truthful this time. 

"I'll consider forgivin' ya. But this is a good start." Angel offered, and Alastor perked up a visible light in his eyes if those ears perking up too were any indication. 

That was cute.

"Would dinner perhaps help?" Alastor offered his face reddening.

"Hm, I'll think about it," Angel said with an obvious smile. "Gal needs 'er beauty sleep though." 

"Ah-yes, right," Alastor said nervously. "Well, goodnight Angel." 

"Goodnight Alastor," Angel called back as they turned their opposite ways down the hallway.

The next morning Angel awoke to another note on his nightstand, and this time, a red rose sat beside it. 

Angel beamed as he opened the note finding the following message written in neat cursive:

You are an Angel.

[anogete]

Watch me vomit up my thoughts

It’s been a while, hasn’t it?  I’m sorry I’ve disappeared on everyone.  It’s been... a year.  I think that probably goes for everyone, not just me.  If you’re interested in a personal life update, then read on.  If you’re looking for an update on my writing then I regret to inform you that I haven’t written a single thing this year.  Maybe next year, though.  There is always next year, right?  I think I saw a blurb that we’re getting Sam and Bucky back in March.  And Loki shortly after.  Maybe that will be my inspiration.

I’m fortunate enough to have a job that lets me comfortably work from home.  I’m also fortunate enough to own a home.  And my last blessing is that I don’t have kids, so I didn’t have to figure out the nightmare of childcare and home schooling like some of you.  My library on the second floor of the house has been my office since mid-March.  I’ve been transitioning into the Associate Financial Advisor roll this year and that has been going well.  I’m supporting the clients I’ve worked with as an assistant for the past nine years, so it’s been easy-going.  I’m able to order my groceries for pick up to avoid going in the stores and I live in an neighborhood where it is easy to get delivery from restaurants.  I’m incredibly lucky to have all these things going for me and I am thankful every damn day.

I fell into a bit of a funk this spring and early summer, but managed to pull myself out of it in August.  I started planning my meals, walking 2-5 miles every day, and exercising on the Peloton bike I bought a year ago.  I also started reading again and zipped through almost 50 books between June and now.  By November, I was feeling strong and healthy.  I felt like I had found a balance between work and activity and self-care.  I was still coming to terms with my grandma passing in March of last year and with Ferguson (my sweet doggo) passing in September of last year.  But I was trying and things were getting better.  I felt like I had my feet underneath me.

Lemme stop you here if you don’t want to read about death and some general medical stuff.  Because that’s mostly what you’re getting from here on out.

On November 21st, my mom texted me at 5:30am.  I got it right away because I usually wake up around that time, alarm or not.  She said she had dropped my dad off at the hospital because he was having difficulty breathing.  Apparently, he’d been feeling bad for a week, but insisted to everyone that it was just his sinuses draining.  I called her and began questioning her like I was cross-examining a star witness.  I was able to piece together a really fucking shitty story.

My dad always went to a friend’s house on Friday evenings to have a couple beers and hang out.  We’d all warned him since March that he needed to stop, but he insisted it was fine.  He bought into a lot of the cavalier attitude that the Trump fans have over this virus. Plus, he was 64-years-old and didn’t take any medication so he probably thought it was no big deal.  He spent a few hours at his friend’s house on November 6th.  Unbeknownst to anyone at the time, he received a call from that friend on November 11th that the friend and the friend’s wife had tested positive for COVID.  He didn’t share this info with my mother, my brothers, or my uncle, all of whom had been near him.  By November 15th, he was coughing but insisted it was drainage when my mom suggested he take something for it and go to the doctor.  By November 18th, he was worse and admitted to my mom that his friend had tested positive but that he hadn’t seen him for almost two weeks so his problems were just sinus-related and not COVID.  My mom hates confrontation, so she accepted this and didn’t tell anyone, including me and my brothers.  By November 19th, he had a fever and was having trouble breathing along with a persistent cough.  He finally agreed to take some cold medicine, but refused to call his doctor’s office despite my mom asking him many, many times.  At 4:30am on November 21st, he woke my mom and asked her to take him to the hospital because he couldn’t breathe well.  She dropped him off and returned home to text me since they wouldn’t allow her in the building.  She also texted my brothers, who admitted that they felt like they’d had a cold for several days.  I live 4 hours away and haven’t traveled since March, so I hadn’t seen any of them.

A nurse called my mom a couple hours after she dropped my dad off to tell her that he was positive for COVID and pneumonia and they were admitting him to put him on a bipap.  From what I understand, that’s the oxygen mask that pushes air into your lungs.  Later that day, the health department called my mom and told her to quarantine for two weeks.  My mom cooperated and gave them my brothers’ phone number (they live together), my uncle’s phone number, and the name and number of the person we suspected my dad was infected by (his friend).  My brothers opted to get tested and were positive.  They quarantined for two weeks and had mild to moderate symptoms (brief fever, very tired, cough, drainage).  My mom had virtually no symptoms with the exception of some drainage that she took Mucinex for.  She didn’t get tested, but she lived and slept in the same bed with my dad for a week while he was symptomatic.  If my brothers got it from 30 minutes in the same room as him, surely she got it as well.  My uncle and his son got tested, but they were negative.

My dad was cooperative with the doctor and nurses at first, but as the first day wore on he became irritated.  He’d been without his chewing tobacco (yes, I know: eww) for several hours and was going through nicotine withdrawal, but wouldn’t admit that to the nurses or doctor.  The next day he was put in ICU, still on the bipap, and even more unruly and rude to the staff taking care of him.  They called my mom to ask her to talk to him and convince him to cooperate.  They said if he couldn’t recover on the bipap and required a ventilator then “things would be very bad.”  My mom tried to talk to him by text and he just continued to insist that he was well enough to come home.

I used to be close to my dad when I was a kid, but we’d grown apart over my adulthood.  Over the past 20 years, my dad morphed into someone different.  Everyone around him, especially my grandmother, told me they saw this happen the same as I did.  The result was that my dad became someone I didn’t like and didn’t want to spend time with.  He also didn’t seem to know how to talk to me anymore.  To be fair, I didn’t give him much help in that regard.  I texted him to see how he was doing and the conversation quickly devolved into him complaining about the care and insisting he was well enough to come home.  I tried to reason with him and appeal to his love for my mom by saying that my fear was him coming home and giving her the virus.  He told me that he’d decided he was no longer contagious and this was just a bunch of bullshit.  This conversation via text continued through Monday and Tuesday (November 23rd and 24th), but it took a turn for the delusional.  The doctor can only assume that the virus and the lack of oxygen had resulted in hallucinations and delusions.  My dad told my mother and I that he was in an office building owned by a man named Mr. Pritt.  He said he was the only patient and that this man was having his workers experiment on him and that they would eventually kill him.  He demanded that we come get him immediately so he could recover at home.  When we told him he’d die if he came home because he was too sick, he insisted he wasn’t sick at all and became very angry with us.  He accused both my mom and I of conspiring to kill him because we wouldn’t help him.  One day he told me that I’d confirmed what he’d known all along.  I asked him what that was and he said, “That I always loved you more than you loved me.”  This really hurt because even though I knew he was loopy, I also knew that he’d probably actually had that though before.

He began refusing treatment on those days and wouldn’t accept the steroids they were trying to give him and raised hell when they tried to take him for a chest x-ray.  He also told them he didn’t want to be placed on a ventilator even though he had agreed to one when he was admitted.  He was texting all of his friends and telling them he needed a ride home.  He attempted to get up and leave the hospital twice, falling in the floor both times because he was so weak from lack of oxygen once he took the mask off.  He also told my mom and I that he was secretly removing the mask when the nurses couldn’t see to prove to them that he wasn’t sick.  He was taking and sending blurry pictures to us of the room as “evidence.”  He told my mom to forward the pictures to “the feds.”  The pictures were of his hospital bed, the whiteboard with his nurses’ and doctor’s names on it, his IVs, etc.  By the morning of Wednesday, the 25th, I was getting some off-the-wall texts from him.  He was begging us to come check him out of the hospital at that point and we were trying to play along and tell him we were getting everything in order for him to come home soon.  Eventually, he told me that he wasn’t getting out of there alive and that he loved me.  I told him I loved him too and begged him to do whatever the doctor said because the doctor wanted to help him get better.

A few minutes later, the nurse called my mom and asked if she’d been on the phone with my dad.  My mom said she and I hadn’t spoken to him by any way other than text since he arrived at the hospital.  The nurse said he had been on the phone with a woman, trying to convince her to come get him.  The nurse made him put the call on speaker so she could tell the woman that he wasn’t well enough to leave.  Because she was concerned that her message didn’t get through before my dad hung up, she called my mom to make sure he hadn’t convinced my mom to check him out against medical advice.  My mom assured her that we had no intention of breaking him out of the hospital, but she didn’t know who the woman was.  It wasn’t her or me.  We called a long-time former co-worker of my dad’s that I’ve known since I was a kid and she said she hadn’t talked to him.  We called his best friend and asked if he’d called and spoken to the man’s wife.  Not her either.  More on this later.  I’m sure you know where it’s going.

We were stumped, but didn’t have time to deal with it because the nurse practitioner called and told my mom that my dad was delusional and could no longer make his own decisions.  They said he had no chance of survival if they didn’t put him on a ventilator immediately.  My mom called me.  I told her to agree to it.  The nurse called her back and gave the phone to my dad.  He had agreed to the ventilator as well and wanted to tell my mom that he loved her and me and my brothers and his dog.  His speech was slurred and muffled from the bipap mask, but she at least heard that.  They intubated him right after the call.  He was on a paralytic for a week.  When they backed off on the paralytic, they had to increase his oxygen.  A week later, the nurse tried to kindly tell us that he wasn’t getting better and his chances of survival were low.  She suggested we start to talk about turning off the ventilator and letting him go.  We did talk about that, which was very upsetting for everyone, but the doctor said he’d been on the ventilator for two weeks and we’d give him one more week to see what happens.  By this point, he no longer had pneumonia. But the damage COVID did to his lungs couldn’t be repaired.

The ventilator was on full blast (highest pressure, highest oxygen) just to keep him somewhat stable.  The days were ticking by and he still wasn’t making progress.  Any step forward was followed by a bigger step back. My mom would call and get the update from the nurse most days, but I did call myself a few days.  When I’d call and talk to the nurse, I’d get a grim picture that my mom didn’t seem to get or understand. I talked to her on December 12th and asked her if she was trying to protect my brothers and I or if she really thought he was going to get better.  She admitted that she’d had a feeling for days that he wasn’t going to get better.  We decided to just wait for the doctor to call.  The nurse called my mom on Monday, December 14th and told her that my dad’s blood pressure was all over the place and they were struggling to keep him stable, that the ventilator was turned up to the highest settings and it was barely enough to keep him going.  My mom texted me and told me she asked them to call me.  The doctor called me within about 20 minutes and basically told me that my dad wasn’t going to make it.  They’d had him on a ventilator for 19 days and within a couple days his throat tissue would likely become necrotic from the pressure of the cuff keeping the tube in place.  They could only continue the ventilator if they could put in a trach and he wasn’t stable enough for that.  In addition, he needed more support than the ventilator could provide.  I was told he was either going to go into cardiac arrest while on the ventilator and die or they’d be forced to take him off the ventilator because of the damage to his throat.  The most damning thing he told me was that he’d removed the sedation but my dad didn’t wake.  He wasn’t responsive, wouldn’t squeeze their hands, wouldn’t flinch when they tested his reflexes, nothing.

I was told we could come sit with him and say goodbye when the ventilator was removed.  I asked when and the doctor said soon.  I live 4 hours from my parents, so I told him I’d leave right away and have my mom call to make arrangements for me to come to the hospital.  I called my mom and told her all this and asked her to let the hospital know.  I packed a bag and rushed out the door.  On my way out of town, the doctor called me back and asked if I was on my way.  My mom had told them that we’d come by the next morning and he was worried my dad wouldn’t make it through the night.  So, I had to have a shitty conversation with my mom about how we couldn’t schedule my dad’s death for 7am on Tuesday, that it needed to happen at 8pm on Monday.  I do not recommend these types of calls.

I got into town around 7pm and picked my mom up because she’d decided she wanted to come with me.  My brothers said they couldn’t handle it and decided to stay at my mom’s house.  My mom and I were taken to the COVID floor, given gowns, and gloves, told he was COVID positive so we’d need to continue to wear our cloth masks (no medical mask, is that safe?!), and escorted to his room in the ICU.  Guys, he looked so fucking tired and so sad.  It was heartbreaking.  The nurse said their ICU was full and most of the patients were in the same shape as my dad.  We talked to him for a few minutes, held his hand and all that shit.  He didn’t respond in any way, so I don’t know if he was even there.  We stepped out of the room while they removed the tube and gave him some medicine.  When we went back in, his breaths were labored and it looked like he was gasping for air. My mom almost lost it because she wasn’t expecting that.  I told her she could go wait in the hall and I’d stay with him until he passed.  The nurse was kind enough to give him a little more medicine to make it less dramatic, but it was still difficult watching him breathe in that way.  My mom sat so she couldn’t see his head to make things easier on herself.  We sat there with him for about 40 minutes before he passed away at 8:32pm on Monday, the 14th.

I stayed with my mom last week and helped her arrange a private graveside service and the burial.  She wanted to do a funeral and I thought that was the worst idea, so we agreed on doing a celebration of life next year when things are a little better (hopefully).  To my knowledge, I haven’t had the virus.  I operated under the assumption that my mom and brothers had it and were immune for now and wouldn’t transmit it.  So, I was able to be with them without mask, but I did wear a mask when anyone else was around.  I can’t say the same for the fucking funeral director and the locksmith’s employee who opened my dad’s safe for us, though.  I live in a bigger city and mask wearing is pretty wide-spread here, but I saw so many people in my hometown (a more rural area) who didn’t bother with them.

Anyway, while all these graveside preparations are going on my mom goes through the bag of personal items from my dad that the hospital gave us.  She tossed his clothes in the washer and placed his two rings into a bag to give to the funeral home so he could be buried in them.  She also pulled out his wallet and his cell phone.  His wallet has a picture that was obviously cut from an old driver’s license of a woman named Deb.  Apparently, this woman lives in Florida and had attended junior high school with my dad.  About two years ago, my parents took a trip to Florida and visited with her for several days.  She even friended my mom on Facebook.  So, the old driver’s license picture of her was very weird.  What was even more disturbing?  His wallet also contained a plastic bag of hair that very obviously is not my mom’s.  And there was a piece of paper with three phone numbers on it.  His phone was locked with a PIN and was set to wipe itself after 20 incorrect tries.  I did tried to break into it, but wasn’t successful.  My mom admitted that she suspected he’d been talking to someone on his phone for years, but she never directly confronted him about it.  She’d just make comments about him always texting on his phone and being secretive.  Two Christmases ago he bought her a ring at a store that she has an online login to.  This particular store posts the receipts for all purchases linked to the customer’s account to the website.  She saw that my dad had purchased two pieces of jewelry even though she only received one.  My dad has never in his life bought me a Christmas present without my mom assisting, so she knew it wasn’t for me.  She still didn’t confront him, though.  She just told him that she could see the itemized receipts online.

I sympathized with my mom because I’ve experienced the infidelity of a partner in a relationship and if I were her then I’d want to know.  But I also told her that I don’t know digging into it will make things any better and may not even give her the truth.  He’s gone and there is nothing that can be done about that or anything else.  While I was running errands for her the day before the graveside service, she messaged Deb in Florida and asked if she wanted her picture back.  She also called the three phone numbers in his wallet.  One went to Deb.  The other two were the cell phone and work phone of my dad’s best friend’s wife, Anne.  The same friend and wife who likely gave the virus to my dad.  My mom told me when I got back that she’d done this and admitted she���d always felt like my dad was talking to Anne and might have an inappropriate relationship with her.  I suspect my mom is right.  Gut instinct is usually accurate.  She said she didn’t think anything physical was going on with Deb, but she did think my dad was carrying on a flirtatious relationship with her via text.  In both cases, he tried to hide it.  And if you hide it, then you know it’s wrong.  That night Deb messaged my mom back and said she had heard about what happened to my dad and was very sorry.  She said that my dad was always clear that he was married and nothing went on that was inappropriate, but that he gave her someone to talk to when her husband was sick and dying five years earlier and they’d always kept in contact.  Again, I don’t think my mom can count on anyone to give her the full story without spin or deceit.  A couple days ago, she texted me a picture of a receipt from my dad’s truck.  It was from last Christmas from a department store.  It had two pieces of jewelry on it.  She looked them both up using the UPCs listed and found the necklace he gave her last year and a ring she doesn’t recognize.  We don’t know if he was giving this jewelry to Deb in Florida or Anne, his friend’s wife.  Or someone else we don’t even know about.  And we’re probably never going to know.  Do I want to call Deb and Anne and tell them I want to full story?  Fuck yeah.  Do I think it will fix anything?  Fuck no.

TL;DR?  I finally found some balance in my life late this summer.  This balance was destroyed when my dad got COVID and died after three weeks in the hospital.  And when you’ve already got a not-so-great relationship with your dad, you get all kinds of feels when he dies in a traumatic way and then you find out he’s been screwing around on your mom.  I also have lots of anger toward him for knowingly exposing my other family members to the virus simply because he didn’t want to own up to getting it after doing something we’d all told him to stop doing.

Health-wise?  I think I’m okay.  It’s been almost ten days since I was with him in the hospital and seven days since his graveside service.  I haven’t had any symptoms yet and I think most people show symptoms by now.  Regardless, I’ve been at home since I returned last Thursday evening and I intend to stay home until January 2nd.  My boyfriend is also home and will be here until January 2nd as well.  Just to be safe.  My brothers are mostly recovered, but both still have a bit of a cough.  My mom never had much in the way of symptoms and seems fine.  My dad was 64 and overweight.  We found out once he was admitted to the hospital that his regular doctor had told him he was a diabetic and my dad insisted on “treating” that with cinnamon instead of actual medicine.  Other than those things, he didn’t have any health concerns.  Be careful, ya’ll.

[pandoraswrld]

IN THE NIGHT

— in which sera finds something new to entertain her

characters / sera park, ahn insung, mentions of the black rose girls, johnny suh and kim jongin

words / 4.1k

warnings / sexual content, they fuck in his car basically, smoking cigarettes, smoking weed, crying, small mention of blood — if i missed anything please let me know!

Sera knows exactly why her feet dragged her to the club on this particular night. It was a Thursday and as far as she knew Insung would be outside on the steps, chatting up random girls and finding unsuspecting club-goers to become his customers. It would only be her fourth time coming there and her third seeing him, she’d grown rather fond of both during her visits.

She lied to her group mates when she said she was going out to get some fresh air and she lied to herself when she said she was going to the club only to find a good time. Sera could go inside, drink something overpriced and get hit on by several guys but she’s already decided she was going to bother Insung if she caught him.

The familiar dark blue neon lights came into view as she rounded the street corner to find the hidden club. She liked that she had to look for the place, it was far away from everything else, just enough that she could escape to it whenever she wanted. And just as she suspected there was Insung sitting at the foot of the metal staircase looking out onto the road as if he were waiting for someone.

They quickly caught each other’s eyes, the older man standing up to greet Sera. His black hair shined blue under the light of the club doors and his hands were adorned with shiny silver rings on almost every finger. He was far from ugly and that’s one of the first things that grabbed her attention when she had first met him.

“Princess, it’s nice to see you here again.” His words are not without a simple smirk, one that typically graced his face.

Sera rolled her eyes, she knows by now not to take his compliments and nicknames seriously. If she had a dollar for everytime she’d heard him say that to every other girl who came to him, she’d be rich.

“What brings you here on a night like this?”

It hadn’t been a particularly interesting week, having been off schedule for weeks now ever since the accident, the dorms had been tense and she was sick of hearing the same fight between Hyebin and Jangmi every night. Sera was simply bored with her life right now, she needed stimulation and of course she knew where to get it.

“Would you believe me if I said I wanted to see you?” She fluttered her eyelashes at him. She knows he’s definitely not one to fall for flattery but Sera also knew how to work it on him, it was like she was his soft spot. Even if she wasn’t, she wanted to be and was more than determined to make him like her just a little bit more than his other clients.

“You’re bullshitting me.” It was his turn to roll his eyes, crossing his arms and leaning ever so slightly over her.

“How could you know that?” She chose to smile at him coyly.

“Well darling, come have a smoke with me, I promise I won’t tell anyone.” There it is, she’s got him.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

She followed him across the street and far down the empty road towards his car. He always parked his car far away from the club, she figured there was a reason behind it but she never felt like pressing him for answers.

The car itself was something she enjoyed, despite this being her first ever time inside it. Something felt different on the inside, it was a space only the two of them shared, the real world only a couple of centimetres away behind the darkened glass of his windows.

Sera made sure to roll the windows down before lighting up, he told her he doesn’t care about the smell but she still does it anyway. She prefers seeing the clouds of smoke from the cigarettes waft out into the air rather than having it dissipate weakly within the confines of the car.

Few words are exchanged between them, she and Insung don’t really have much to say to each other. They only shared a couple things in common, those things being the club and drugs. She reckons that’s not really enough to hold on to, not that she would ever admit to wanting more from Insung, she just hates that once the cigarette burns out they’ll go back to being practically strangers again.

She wanted – no – needed him to like her. It’s simple to her really, all love has an expiry date on it so why not make the most out of it with whoever you can, he just happened to be the physically closest person to her right now. She doesn’t need him to fall in love with her, she’s not asking much from him.

Her father always told her never to care about other people’s opinions on her, he always wanted her to grow up strong and independent. Sera thinks about his old sayings whenever she was in a position of desperation, it’s a shame she never really grew into the girl he wanted her to be. She missed him, she’ll probably call him when she gets back to the dorms, after all it is only eight in the morning back home.

“Insung.” Sera turned to the man sitting in the driver’s seat beside her.

“Yes, princess.” He still had some of his cigarette left, only a little, their time together was almost up.

Sera had finished hers first, flicking it into his makeshift water bottle ashtray a couple minutes before. “Why do you call me princess?”

Insung was silent for a moment, inhaling another breath of smoke before turning to Sera. The corners of his mouth twisted up, a genuine smile from the man, that’s something she never thought she’d see.

“Because you are one,” he chuckled, “I don’t treat all my customers the same if that’s what you’re worried about.”

She smiled at the thought, she was cracking him, slowly but surely.

Sera rolled her window back up, it was just them now. Her eyes surveyed Insung, looking at him up and down as though she were searching for something. She leaned forward and with her hand resting delicately on the wheel she kissed him.

He didn’t taste sweet, not like Jongin used to, no he didn’t taste of anything. All that she could sense off of him was the smell of nicotine hanging off of his lips and hands.

“Hmm that’s how you wanna play, what do you want here Sera? Low prices, a free hit?” She couldn’t read him, he was smiling at her but his tone was more neutral than anything else.

She looked down to his lips and then back into his eyes, that always worked, “I want you.”

He kissed her this time, smashing their lips together at a pace a lot faster than she had expected from him. His hand fell over her nape to pull her closer to him, “Then show me.”

Sera gave him a devilish grin, getting closer to what she wanted. She threw her leg over his body and dragged herself from her seat to sit lightly on top of his thighs.

His kisses were either chaste and quick or wet and slippery, she doesn’t know which one she prefers but it’s nice to have someone on her lips again. The feeling of his hands gripping at her thighs and hips could send her to heaven, the cold metal of his rings clashing against her hot skin. Sera hoped that when she woke up in the morning it would leave pretty bruising for her to stare at in the mirror, a little memory that someone felt something for her.

She grabbed at her t-shirt and lifted it away from her jeans, unbuttoning the denim for Insung to access. She was quick to undo his too and it didn’t look like he showed any signs of wanting her to stop, a near moan leaving his lips when her hands brushed up against his groin.

Sera rushed to pull his cock out of his pants and push it inside of her, she wanted this moment to go by quickly and it would with her in control of the situation. As far as she’s concerned this is for him, her benefits would come after and it always felt good being so physically close to someone.

The position was awkward, Sera’s head had hit the car ceiling at least three times by now and her back was this close to sounding out the horn every time she leaned the tiniest bit backwards. In terms of sex, this was nowhere near reaching the top of her list, Insung wasn’t doing anything particularly show-stopping and he had barely been able to keep eye contact with her at all despite having his literal dick buried inside her.

She couldn’t find a way to sweeten the moment, make it feel like it meant something big to the both of them. Insung layed there in his seat watching Sera do all the work and doing nothing but biting his lip and hanging onto her hips for dear life. She figures that after the first time and in a more comfortable setting he might do more for her, or at least she hopes so, she was already planning on hooking up with him a few more times and it would be better if he attempted to put more effort into her pleasure.

She tried to look into his eyes again, placing her hands around his cheeks and holding them in place. Insung, however, firmly avoided her gaze, turning his head away from the grasp of her palm and choosing to settle his eyes on the road behind her shoulders.

Sera rolled her eyes, still bouncing up and down until she felt him tense underneath her. The sounds he let out of his mouth were obscene, dark groans escaping his lips as he pulled himself out of Sera. He came soon after, thick splodges of cum painting Sera’s abdomen and the edge of her t-shirt, dripping down onto Insung’s jeans.

She felt gross, the feeling of his sticky cum all over her made her want to throw up. She removed her legs from the tight straddle and flipped over into the passenger seat, quickly pulling her jeans back up and tucking her t-shirt in in a poor effort to clean up the mess he had left.

Her mind drew blank, barely a thought processing behind her eyes. It’s not an entirely new feeling, she remembers the nights she spent with Johnny and how each one ended with her creeping out in the dead of night, not a single emotion playing on her face. It was all the same, none of these hookups were anything special and she chose not to think too much about the repercussions of them. That was a can of worms she would rather not open, ever.

The thick smell of sex brought her back to reality, barely covering the stale cigarette smoke in the car. Her fingers lifted up over her face to wipe off the taste of Insung, chewing against the soft skin on her knuckle and resting over her nose as if to hide from the man beside her.

“You want anything?” Insung’s voice cut through the silence, coupled with the sounds of his belt and the button metal clashing as he hastily zipped his pants back up.

Sera didn’t turn to look at him, too focused on the black cat outside striding past the car. He probably meant in terms of something to eat or drink but she supposed she could at least try and enjoy the time she’d spent in this car, “Have you got any weed?”

Insung chuckles, muttering something to himself. Sera dives into her bag to find the couple hundred won she had lying around just for moments like this.

“Don’t.” He places the little bag into her hand, pushing away the notes, “We’ll share it, don’t worry about it today.”

Sera gives him a small smile, “Will you roll it for me then?”

Insung is much faster at rolling than she is, having made the perfect blunt within a minute, hers always turned out a little empty and lopsided. He grabbed her chin roughly, placing it in between her pursed lips and lighting it up. “Good girl.” He uttered out after the blunt was lit.

She swallowed thickly before inhaling the weed into her lungs. He probably got off on manhandling her like that so she let him, she’ll think about it again in a day or two and pretend it was hot.

Shared between the two of them the blunt doesn’t last long, Sera’s too anxious to go without something in her hands or on her lips and Insung always had steel lungs, one of the faster smokers she’d ever hung around. The high had quickly settled within her chest, feeling a little lightheaded as she sinks into the passenger seat.

“You okay princess?”

He cares about her, is all she can think, why else would he have done everything he did tonight. She believes she’s worn him down, just enough for him to feel used to her. That’s all she needed.

“Yes.” She hummed. Her hand creeped up to Insung’s empty one that laid beside her, surprised when he didn't drag his away.

“Look at us,” Sera chuckled, “Hayoung and Insung.” She wasn’t feeling up to thinking before speaking, simply letting the words roll off her tongue, the easiest feeling in the world.

“Hayoung...I like that.” Something strikes her upon hearing the name leave his lips, it was strange, it didn’t hurt the way she thought it would. That had to mean something, right?

Her thumbs rub against the rough skin on Insung’s palm. It was hardly believable that she had gotten this far without being hastily thrown out or that he was letting her be this affectionate to him, some part of her believes that maybe he wanted this too. If she thinks a little bit too hard she starts to suspect that he needed this just as badly as she did.

Maybe they were made for each other, who knows?

Insung was different from all the other people that she’d been with. She’d always been the heart breaker, the girl you had to watch out for because she’s gonna shit all over you, but with Insung she was weak, almost his equal if you excluded the money he made off of her.

Jongin was a whole story she still wasn’t dealing with, seeing his face around the halls of the SM building didn’t make any of their meetings hurt less. It’s her fault that they broke up, she would never admit it but she knows she did something wrong. Despite that, in their most vulnerable moments they would always find each other and Sera can’t tell if it’s some kind of fucked up star-crossed lover thing or if it’s just sad that they still pretend like nothing ever happened the morning after. To be honest, the fact that he keeps on letting her back into his bed is his deal, Sera just likes that she’s still got a hook in him.

Johnny was probably the closest she’d gotten to a real relationship since 2015. He was sweet and honestly cared for her, the last time she’d been with him just a little after his debut, she fucked that one up big time.

But with Insung she couldn’t fuck up, not romantically, it was all about giving each other something that the other wanted. Sera got the attention she craved and Insung found himself a warm hole for whenever he needed to get his dick wet. Insung’s probably got his own unsavoury opinions about her brewing in his mind but she’s trying her best not to give a fuck about what he thinks, and in her defence the last time she got called a slut she thoroughly enjoyed it.

“Let me drive you home.”

Sera doesn’t think that’s the greatest idea, let a drug dealer know her home location? Let a man she’d only known for a couple weeks drive her anywhere? It wouldn’t be the safest choice she had made tonight but she was too fucked to care, that was something she could worry about tomorrow, preferably with a bottle of something strong to help ease her thoughts.

“Thank you.” She squeezed his thumb with a small smile. Her fingers just barely made out the dorm address into his sat nav, gliding all over the screen until it’s set and he can start to drive.

They remained silent for the ride home, sitting comfortably as the car twisted through several roads to reach the dorms. Sera glanced over at Insung, catching a concentrated expression on his face, he smiled when he caught her looking.

She could get used to this, fucking Insung and then letting him treat her, it sure is the life her father always dreamed for her. At least it would give her something to do whilst SM tries to figure out what the fuck Lyra and Jangmi have going on, god knows she’d go insane if she had to stay in that dorm any longer, constantly having to walk on eggshells around everyone. This was fun, about as much fun as it can get for her right now.

The car comes to a stop, parked just outside her apartment building. This can’t last forever, Sera knows that much, it wouldn’t bode well for her in the long run knowing what kind of person he was.

There’s not much interaction as Sera exits the car, her hand leaves his empty and there’s no goodbye kiss or even a hug, “See you around.”

“See you around, princess.”

And then he drove off. The light wind starting to pick up reminded her that it was far too late for her to be out as she watched the car disappear down the road.

That’s all there was to it really, nothing special, it almost made her miss how Johnny used to beg her to stay just a little longer. However, beggars can’t be choosers, Sera thought. She got what she wanted, she can’t exactly be picky with how much affection she was asking for. Still there’s a pang in her heart once she finds herself back in the dorm, her chest starting to feel heavy yet again once she’s in the darkened living room. Sera’s at least grateful that no one was waiting behind the door to ask about her whereabouts or comment on the smell of weed she’d brought back with her.

She figures she’ll try to shower before attempting to sleep, having already decided she was going to take the sofa instead of bothering Aejung and Juliet who were likely fast asleep in their shared room. This was probably the most peace they’d get that day, no need for Sera to wake them up with her problems.

The water was cold, just barely above freezing. She shivered at the feeling but didn’t move to change it, instead lingering under the shower head and letting the stream of water run down her body. Her hair started to dampen, bright blonde strands sticking uncomfortably to her skin like glue, barely doing anything to refresh her of the high she was slowly coming down from.

Her hands ran down to her stomach, rubbing off the dried cum and letting out a choked laugh at the action. She hoped that it was the shower water she was feeling but she couldn’t mistake the hot tears leaving her eyes for anything else.

“Fuck.” She mutters to herself, leaning her body against the wall and letting the tears fall freely from her eyes.

Sera doesn’t know why she’s crying, there could be a number of reasons: maybe she was starting her period, maybe she missed her dad too much, or maybe she’s regretting her actions. All of her years she told herself never to let herself regret anything, once it’s done it’s done and yet she still can’t help but feel like she's doing it all for nothing. After a couple months they’ll drop each other and Sera can go back to searching the club in favour of finding someone new to play with, like they never existed to each other outside of their deals.

She thinks back to the car, she can still feel his touches on her body and the cold water does little to remove the feeling. It’s confusing, in the moment it felt so right, like she was finally getting what she’d been asking for but here her emotions had flipped on her so easily, preying on her and causing her to doubt everything.

It left a sickening feeling in her stomach at the thought of him calling her ‘Hayoung’. She knows now that what she was feeling when she heard it wasn’t anything different, she was just high, the weed was admittedly stronger than she was used to and it must’ve knocked the sense out of her. That’s how she rationalises it, but there was one anomaly still standing out in her mind. Why did he let her hold his hand?

Sera had only known him a little amount of time but even in those moments she had painted an awfully clear image of what he was like. Insung, he was ruthless, cocky, far too mighty for his own damn good. She’d seen the way he shamelessly flirted with just about everyone and how he’d pull out a number of threats on people who did him wrong, it would be strange for him to act so softly and yet he did?

Maybe he pitied her, she had become clingy after sex and he didn’t want to let her down so quickly so he let her act like that, spare her some of the embarrassment and then never talk to her again.

The vicious whispers of her former best friend still lived in between her ears and at the back of her head in her worst moments, poor little Hayoung has to fuck everyone just to make them love her because she knows they wouldn’t even give her a chance if it were any other way. Every so often she’d hear them spat back out in her own voice, those nights were always the worst.

It takes all of her strength to get up off the shower floor and turn it off, her fingers and toes had turned blue under the water and she knew she wasn’t going to be getting anything clean anytime soon. She’ll just shower in the morning, she thinks, she’s not in the right state to be doing much now.

It takes her even more strength not to look into the mirror as she dressed, the last time she had done that when she was feeling like this she found herself staring into cracked glass with a bloodied fist.

She had found an old t-shirt and some shorts lying around the dorm to wear, no one cleaned around here anymore, they could very well be someone else’s but it’s not like any of the others cared anymore. Sera can’t even remember the last time she saw Yewon or Hime beyond brief flashes of blonde hair or the sound of their dragging footsteps across the floorboards.

Sera ends up slumping onto the sofa, her eyes staring down at the coffee table before her. Crumpled Chinese takeout flyers were scattered all over the table along with several unwashed mugs full of tea and coffee stains and the remnants of a dying potted plant covering the rest of the surface.

Damn, if she wasn’t already feeling like pure shit then being in this apartment for longer than twenty minutes would’ve done it to her anyways.

She glanced over at the time shining on the screen of her phone, two fifty five in the morning it read. Her fingers hovered over the contact number for her dad, it was just about turning ten in California, she knew he had to get up for work and wouldn’t be bothering him. She hesitates just for a moment before scrolling through her contacts again and finding the number titled ‘Kim Jongin’.

A pathetic sigh left her mouth, pressing on his name and waiting for it to ring. Her teeth found her knuckle, biting down onto it when the phone started to ring for too long, it wasn’t until she was about to hang up that she heard his all too familiar voice call out from the phone.

He sounded tired, his voice was barely above a grumble clearly having been woken up by her call. She didn’t really care about that though, she just needed to be with him tonight, there’s no way he could deny her that.

“Hey, do you think I could come over?”

[saiilorstars]

Dare To Forget Me

Ch. 29: Help Me Help Him 

Previous chapters // Masterlist of all OCs

Fandom: SVU // Pairing:  Rafael Barba x OFC

Warnings: Due to the nature of the series’ plots, I do have to rate this as ‘mature’ for constant mentions of rape.

Taglist: @ocfairygodmother @anotherunreadblog @maaaaarveeeeel​ @stareyedplanet @perfectlystiles @averyhotchner [If you’d like to be added to this specific OC’s stories/edits, send me a message!]

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Chapter Summary: Montserrat struggles as her brother is arrested for charges she simply cannot believe in. But to help him get out, she'll need help from a person she would never otherwise speak to.

It was all a blur, really, how fast Montserrat got to the precinct where her brother was being kept. In all her rushing, she missed someone snap a picture of her from afar when she went into the building. It was Rafael who had briefly stopped at the entrance to look around. He was quite used to the feeling of being 'watched' due to his profession...and right now was one of those moments. But, as much as he looked, all he saw was the typical bustling streets he always saw. By the time he caught up with Montserrat, she was already speaking with Casey, more like frantically shouting 'what the hell is going on' and not giving Casey a chance to explain.

"I just don't understand how any of this could be happening!" Montserrat's loudness was attracting the attention of the others in the precinct, but she didn't care. "How the hell is my brother in jail!? How did he get arrested!? Why did he get arrested!? How did -" she stopped talking midsentence and went for the front desk...only to be yanked back by Casey.

"You need to calm the hell down," snapped the older cousin in a quiet warning.

But instead of heeding Casey's warning, a humorless laugh slipped through Montserrat's lips. "You can't be serious?" And just like that, her smile vanished and she wrestled free of Casey's grip. "My brother's in jail!" she snapped through gritted teeth. "So don't you tell me to calm the hell down!" She pushed past Casey and went for the front desk.

Casey took a moment for herself so she wouldn't kill her cousin on the spot. Her eyes were soon on Rafael and so she made a gesture for him to take a shot. "Your turn."

"I'd rather not," he wasn't afraid to admit. "I've never seen her like that…"

Because even now, Montserrat was arguing the hell out of it with the poor cop stuck behind the other side of the front desk. She was almost as red as her hair.

"I'm here because she asked me to come with her," he went ahead and explained after Montserrat was allowed to go see her brother. "I was there when you called her."

"Ah," Casey turned around and watched as Montserrat disappeared behind a door. "I debated really hard whether or not to call her - Gael didn't want her to know."

"What's he doing here?" Rafael was admittedly curious to know how an architect landed himself in jail. As far as he knew, Gael was a law-abiding man.

"One of the buildings he finished collapsed on some people and now they're saying he's responsible because he failed to add in some parts during construction."

Rafael examined Casey's anger and how her eyes seemed to accuse the room itself for something. "And you don't look like you believe it."

"Because it's bullshit," she turned to him. "Gael is a talented architect. He's never once had any complaint against him. He knows how to do his job just like we do. He would never miss something so crucial."

Rafael couldn't outright agree with Casey's solely because he didn't know Gael very much. Yes, Casey could be right and something was off in this case or...sometimes people did make mistakes. Either way, he knew Montserrat would get hurt in both situations and that's what worried him the most.

~ 0 ~

"I don't understand why you're in here," Montserrat was really trying her best not to shout because she knew no matter how she felt, Gael had to feel worse. She curled her hands around the cell's bars and stared at her older brother in a mixture of tears and anger.

Gael sat on the lone bench and just shook his head. It seemed like he was past the anger and denial phase and was set into acceptance. "Cos I missed something, Montse. The building Damian and I worked on for months was...it collapsed." And even from the way he said it, the way his face morphed into utter confusion was a clear indication this wasn't true.

"But you're Gael, you have that annoying talent of not missing a thing!"

"Everyone misses something at one point."

"But you don't. Especially when it comes to your job. Walk me through it, please," Montserrat inched closer to the cell. "This building...what happened to it?"

"I don't know," Gael's voice cracked. Montserrat's heart might be cracking too. She never saw her brother this dejected. "I-I mean...I went over the plans a million times. Damian gave it a look too. We did things by the book. Nothing should have broken, nothing should have...collapsed." He raised his gaze to meet his sister's anguished face. "I swear Montse, I have no idea why the building collapsed."

"I believe you," Montserrat nodded. "But now I'm going to get you a lawyer, okay? In the meantime, don't say a word to anyone."

"The company I work for is already appointing one for me. They're doing another investigation or something-"

"-alongside the precinct's," Montserrat finished for him, already knowing the process. "Yeah. I don't care. I'm getting you a lawyer from our end."

"Where are you going to get a lawyer from?"

"Ha, you forget I work at SVU. We've come across several defense lawyers who are...vicious. I'm getting you one of those," Montserrat had a brief smirk on her face before she saw her brother's weak smile. "Hey, don't worry, okay? I'm going to get you out."

Gael shook his head. "My girls…"

"I'll take care of them," Montserrat quickly volunteered herself.

But Gael shook his head again. He pushed himself up from the bench and walked up to the cell bars. "Your job is a 10 hour shift almost every day. You don't have time to take care of a 4 year old and a 15 year old-"

"-I will make the time, I swear," Montserrat pushed one of her hands in-between the bars and took Gael's hand. "They can stay with me and Kara."

"What are you going to tell them?" Gael bitterly smiled to himself. "That their father is responsible for putting people in the hospital?"

"It's not your fault," Montserrat said slowly. "We'll figure this out, okay? You and I...Dad…"

"Oh God, Dad…" Gael brought his free hand to his forehead. "What the hell is he going to say?"

"That you're innocent, what else?" Montserrat's obvious answer made no difference for Gael right now. She gripped his hand and made him look at her. "Naša rodina môže byť malá, ale sme mocní," she whispered. "We may be small, but we are mighty. Novaks don't go down."

Gael gave a small nod, but from where he stood...he believed he was already down.

~ 0 ~

After leaving Gael, Montserrat went straight for the front desk again and this time got herself through an entire group of cops until she had the Captain in front of her. There, she - along with Casey and Rafael - got the information she needed to know about Gael's process.

And it was not pretty. At all.

"He's going to be arraigned soon," Montserrat said in disbelief once the trio were out of the precinct.

"They move fast, you know that," Casey's reminder came at a full moment.

"I told him I'd get him a lawyer. I didn't want to tell him but when a company faces a lawsuit, they hang their employees up to dry," Montserrat bit her lower lip like it was gum. "They won't care what happens as long as they get free."

"Then we find him one. It's not like we're short-handed of defense lawyers," Rafael's words rang the exact thought Montserrat had earlier.

"Yeah. And I know exactly who I want," she smirked for the briefest of moments.

~0~

It was hard swallowing pride but when it was about family, Montserrat would do anything. That's why she was sitting with Rita Calhoun at the DA's building. Somewhere hell was freezing over, she knew.

"Let me get this straight," Rita put her things down on the conference table, her expression a mixture of amusement and confusion, "I got called in because you want me to help you?"

"Yes." Even one word was hard enough for Montserrat to say.

Rita wanted to smile but the confusion won out. "But you don't even have my number."

"Yeah, I know, so if this all works out I am going to owe two people now. Look, you're going to be paid so are you helping me or not?"

"I never turn down a client," Rita now fully smiled as she took a seat.

Montserrat so badly wanted to say she knew Rita wouldn't, considering the type of clients she represented. But instead, Montserrat sat down too and began to explain the situation. To her credit, Rita did listen attentively to the story. "Gael swears he checked everything. He's innocent."

"They always are," Rita dismissively said but Montserrat slammed a fist down on the table.

"He is!" she snapped. "He's done this job for a very long time. There is no reason this should've happened."

"Alright," Rita made a 'take it easy' gesture with a hand. "I get it."

"So will you help me?" Montserrat's question sounded more like a beg than a question. "I will pay you whatever you want."

"I'm in," Rita smiled. "Because if you're right, and they wrongly accused your brother... he's gonna have a field day filing through lawsuits against the city."

Montserrat rolled her eyes, but somewhere inside she admitted that she agreed with Rita. It was an unusual crave for revenge she felt for the sake of her brother. They wronged him, he deserved compensation. But right now, they first needed to focus on getting Gael out.

"He's being arraigned soon," she told Rita as they walked out of the conference room.

"Alright, I'll go see him right now. I'll keep you posted." Rita made to leave but stopped when she saw her usual nemesis coming towards them. Oh, she wanted to say a lot of things right now. Chances like these were rare. "Never thought I'd see the day when you would call me for help, Rafael."

There was an honest-to-god hatred radiating from Rafael - it was a real struggle not to snap back like he usually would - but he forced his mouth to stay shut until he could say something decent. "I...know your tactics very well." That could be a compliment, right?

Rita's eyebrows raised for a minute, clearly amused of his restraint...because she knew he had a lot more to say. "Really? And what are those tactics you're talking about?"

"Could you please just go see my brother already?" Montserrat cut into the woman's fun. She had her arms crossed and an impatient expression on her face. "I am paying you, after all." Rita pointed at the ginger that she was right and got moving again.

"I take it, it went well?" Rafael asked her once Rita was gone.

"Yeah, I mean, she didn't laugh in my face so…" Montserrat dropped her arms to her sides. "Let's see if her vicious ways can actually help me this time."

"She will."

Montserrat sighed and turned to him with one weak smile, probably the only one she'd be able to muster for that day. "Thank you for calling her, though. I know that took...a lot out of you."

"Calling Rita Calhoun for help? I mean...at least now I can say I've done it all," Rafael tried to be humorous but it wasn't working. "Okay," he nodded slightly and stepped closer to her, "I would call Buchanon if you needed me to."

Montserrat smiled briefly at him. She knew he absolutely hated Buchanon. With Rita, it was more of a frenemy type of relationship that was almost always on the 'enemy' side...but still a lot better than Buchanon. "I wouldn't do that you."

"But if you needed me to, I really would. So let me know if Rita doesn't work out, alright?" he gave her a steady look until she nodded. She really wished she could hug him right now, but he was just being a friend.

"Listen, I didn't know whether or not to mention this but...Liv just called," Rafael unknowingly pulled her back to the present. "Nick got himself arrested."

It was definitely enough to reel Montserrat back to the present and shake those thoughts out of her head for a good while. "What!? What do you mean-"

"-he went after Simon Wilkes and sent him to the hospital."

"Oh God," Montserrat passed a hand through her ginger curls. "Maybe he and Gael might see each other for arraignment, then."

"Liv was just calling to see if I knew where you were. They need you back at the precinct. I didn't tell her anything about your situation. But please, don't go if you're not ready."

"Are you kidding? Nick's in trouble-"

"-but so are you," Rafael grabbed her flapping arms and forced her to stay still and, by consequence, her mind. She was definitely on the road to spiraling or at the very least spreading herself too thin. "So take care of yourself first. And if not yourself, then your nieces. You have to go pick them up soon, right?"

"Well, yeah…" Montserrat swallowed hard just at the mere reminder she was going to be the one to tell her nieces that their father was in jail. "But Murphy is going to have a go at me with my absences."

"Screw him. You do what you need to do first."

"Easy for you to say when your job is secure."

"Montserrat, stop being so difficult." Rafael honestly felt like that phrase 60% of his vocabulary when it came to her. The only difference right now was that he really was just trying to help her. There was no sarcasm. "For once, just listen to me."

Montserrat sighed. Even in situations like these, it was actually hard taking his advice without bickering. "Fine," she relented. "But I'm not just going to ignore Nick's situation. Keep me posted while I'm gone?"

"I will if you'll keep me updated."

It was a fair deal and Montserrat knew it. "Okay," she nodded her head. "Thank you...for that. And everything else."

"Of course. Now go," Rafael let her go and hoped she would really listen to him this time. She looked so lost, so unlike herself. It wasn't right. He wished there was more he could for her, but what?

~0~

"Why are you picking me up?" Juliana immediately asked when Montserrat pulled up to her high school's pick-up driveway. The fifteen year old gave her aunt a narrowed-eyed stare while Montserrat did her best to keep her smile on her face.

"Just...get in," she unlocked the passenger's seat and motioned Juliana to come in.

The teenager pulled the door open and got into the car. She put her seat belt on then shifted on her seat to better face Montserrat. "Why are you picking me up?"

"Jesus, can't I surprise you or something?"

Juliana's face scrunched in confusion. "Why are you lying?"

Montserrat's nervous laugh didn't exactly help her case. "I'm not - I'm just picking-"

"Aunt Montse, seriously," Juliana leaned against her seat and watched as they pulled into a new street. "I'm not a child. That stuff can work on Ivana, but not on me."

"It's…" Montserrat sighed. Yeah, she knew she wouldn't be able to hide it from Juliana but she figured she'd at least have some time before she had to explain things. "We need to pick your sister up and then you'll be coming to stay with me for a few days."

"What?" Juliana frowned for a few seconds as she studied her aunt's face. There was a ping at the bottom of her stomach when she realized Montserrat was pale as could be and nervous. "You're picking at your nails again."

Her notice startled Montserrat because, up until now, no one had realized it was one of her nervous ticks. Even after last year, the picking her nails had remained one of her secrets.

"Is my dad dead?" Juliana's question was barely above an audible whisper, but the dread of the mere possibility had the teenager white as a sheet.

"Oh God no!" Montserrat immediately said, exclaiming to the point where she unexpected stop their car. Their bodies lurched forwards but ultimately they were good. "No, your Dad is not dead. He is alive and w…" but she trailed off when it became apparent that Gael was not well. How could he be?

And Juliana saw that. "Aunt Montse, where's my Dad?"

Montserrat sucked in a deep breath. Her eyes gazed to the road ahead and no matter how hard she thought about it, she knew there was no easy way to tell her niece where Gael was. "Let's get your sister first."

~0~

Kara had learned the news from her brother, Damian, who'd gotten a call from their company prior. So when the door opened up, Kara jumped from the couch to help Montserrat but Juliana stormed into the apartment.

"Jules, hey, what are you…" Kara trialed off as the teenager stormed right past her, into the hallway, and straight into the bathroom where she slammed the door shut. Kara flinched when the door sounded like it would fall off its hinges.

Montserrat came in a few seconds later with Ivana in her arms. The four year old looked upset but it was more tears and pouts than anger.

"Oh Montserrat," Kara didn't know who to help first.

"That is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do," Montserrat's own eyes glistened with tears. It was difficult explaining to Juliana and Ivana why their father was in jail even though he was innocent. She didn't have the answers to their questions, and much less than comfort they desperately needed.

"I'm so sorry," Kara walked over and hugged Montserrat (and Ivana) tightly. "I'm here if you need anything."

"Thanks. Um, for starters, I needed to bring the girls here...sorry…"

"No, that's fine! We can take care of them here between us two."

"My Dad's going to pick them up from school so I'll just bring them in the morning. You won't notice them-"

"-stop, Montse," Kara started pulling Ivana from Montserrat's arms. The four year old would go with anyone at this point. "You're family. This is what we do."

"Well…" Montserrat took a moment to breath in and out. "I've no idea what I'm doing."

There was a brief knock on the door before Sonny poked his head into the apartment. At Montserrat's questioning look, he quickly said, "I got a key now," and walked in.

"Of course you do," Montserrat playfully rolled her eyes.

"I saw you pulling up. I heard what happened with your brother," he came up to her and gave her a hug of support. "I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, so am I," Montserrat sighed. She didn't even question the fact Kara must have already told him ahead of time. "I don't understand how this happened. My brother does not mess up like this. Putting people in the hospital because of negligence? I don't think so."

"I'm sure we'll figure it out. It's what we do best, right?" Sonny flashed her a friendly smile. He was there if she needed him too.

"Yeah," she gave a small nod and turned to the hallway. "Juliana locked herself in my room, didn't she?"

"Bathroom. And that's gonna need to change because...yeah…" Kara awkwardly made a face.

"She's just so mad and I...I can't blame her. How do I get her to come out?"

"Leave her a few minutes in there so she can cool down," Sonny suggested. "I have 3 sisters. I know how this pans out."

"Aw, poor you," Kara pretended to pout, leading him to roll his eyes at her.

He walked over to her and tried tickling Ivana so that she would at least look up from Kara's shoulder. "Hey c'mon, your aunt Montse says you love eating pasta. How about we make that for dinner, hm?" Ivana only lifted her head slightly so that she could meet his gaze from Kara's shoulder. "I'm going to need a helper because between you and me, your aunt Montse and Kara aren't very good at cooking."

"Hey!" went the two women with the same frowns. Kara even smacked his arm with a free hand.

"What!? I'm helping!" Sonny argued and ultimately got Ivana to accept his arms as a new holding place. "What kind of veggies do you want to put?"

Ivana pouted but she did answer after a few minutes, "My Daddy always puts broccoli."

"Broccoli?" Sonny was surprised to hear that a four year old willingly ate broccoli. "Yeah, definitely can do that then. C'mon, let's go see if we have everything we need."

Montserrat stopped him with a hand on his arm and whispered a "thank you" to him. Kara pulled Montserrat to the couch and sat her down, figuring it'd been a long day without breaks.

"How's your Dad?"

"Better than me, I guess," Montserrat shrugged. "He's meeting with Rita. But I think right now we're all just...lost."

"This isn't forever, Montse," Kara tried to sound as reassuring as possible. "We're going to get him out."

Montserrat nodded like she wanted to believe it, and she did, but right now the way she felt made everything seem so far and lost. Helpless.

Someone knocked on the door and when Kara went to open it, she found Damian on the other side. The two exchanged knowing looks before Damian walked in.

Soon as Montserrat saw him, she stood up from the couch. "What did they-"

"-business doesn't know how this happened either," Damian shook his head. "I did the evaluations. I know everything was put together the way it needed to be."

"Any evidence of that?"

"Yes. All documented."

Something lit in Montserrat's face. "Then we can show that and-and we can get Gael out." She rushed up to Damian and threw her arms around him. "Oh my God, thank you Damian!"

"What's going on?" Sonny emerged from the kitchen with Ivana behind his legs. He immediately eyed the hugging duo across and frowned.

"Damian might have what you guys need to free Gael," Kara grinned. "Isn't that great!?"

"Yeah, I mean...how?" Sonny asked, now wondering how long he'd been in the kitchen.

"It's protocol that we document each time we check to make sure everything was done right," Damian explained.

Montserrat slightly pulled away to smile at him. "You might have saved my brother."

"Don't I always do that?" Damian's light joke actually pulled a laugh from her.

Sonny smiled as did Kara, but the former just knew this whole ordeal was just a way for Damian to impress Montserrat. And the worst part was, he wasn't even doing it on purpose. It just so happened it worked out in his favor.

And Rafael without a single clue about it.

There he was in his office, attempting to do some work but his mind couldn't seem to focus. In fact, every few minutes or so, his eyes would end up flickering to his phone sitting at the edge of the desk as if it would ring. But what was he expecting? For Montserrat to call him at this hour? He was the one who told her to take some space between her and her work and whether or not he wanted to admit it, he was only part of her 'work life'. That was it. And the reminder of that made Rafael stop working until he could accept it (again) and continue his work. The cycle had been going on for the last couple of hours.

It was going to be a long night.

With all those thoughts in his head, Rafael didn't notice the office door opening to let someone in. "Rafael?"

The call of his name wasn't what startled him, it was who called him that was startling. Perhaps dreadful too. He got up on an instinct but despite having so many things rushing through his mind, he couldn't string two words together. So, only one came out instead. "Yelina?"

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Drop Dead Goregous || Morgan & Jasmine

TIMING: Current

LOCATION: Downtown

PARTIES: @halequeenjas & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Morgan’s shopping trip gets interrupted by a ghostly visitor, but not the one she expects.

Morgan was shaken by what she’d seen lately. After almost five months dead, she would’ve thought she’d earned some kind of credit against death bullshit, especially ghost bullshit, considering how she’d died. But it never stopped. No matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried, her hundred year old bullshit came up to rip the floor out from under her and she was left to catch her own fall. Letting out another breath she didn’t need, Morgan shuffled around the boutique she was visiting. Fall was coming, and she wanted to give herself a wardrobe upgrade to match her new reputation and her new self. Bye-bye cutesly floral kimonos, at least for now. She picked through the selections, holding up one muted dress after another before she went back to a rack of black dresses and loose sweaters. As she did, she spotted a familiar face nearby, and a sad, scruffy looking ghost-man hovering behind her, way, way too close for politeness. He had a face that insisted it knew more than you and would be happy to explain how in a twelve slide power point or over beers at a local micro-brewery.

Morgan tried to catch the guy’s attention subtly with her eyes, a good ‘I see you, jerkface’ staredown. But aiming for a little eye contact wasn’t doing much. She took one of the dresses she liked and headed for another rack, ready to swing her hanger through him as a warning shot. “Leave her alone, asshat,” she hissed. “Find somewhere else to haunt.” The hanger bopped against his side, the clips on the dress rattled. He was...solid?

After performing an exorcism for a client earlier, Jasmine was worn down and decided a little retail therapy would perk her right back up. At least the person who was possessed was rich so the paycheck was hefty. No reason to not treat herself to a new dress or five. She’d been idly thumbing through a rack of maroon and burnt orange sweater dresses that’d be perfect for the fall, when she heard someone behind her very quietly whisper the word haunt. How had she missed there was a ghost here? She whipped around, instinctively going for the iron rod in her oversized purse. She recognized the other woman, who could clearly also see ghosts, was whacking Larry Bob with a hanger that didn’t go through him. Her breath hitched in her throat as she hoarsely grumbled, “Damn it, Larry.” His eyes were on her iron rod and he was backing away from her slowly. She swung and he just dodged her leaving a slight whooshing sound in the air. Another whack and this time it stung. He was more quick to move now though he seemed disoriented by not being able to phase through walls. This still meant nothing good. “Here,” she said as she tossed a bag of salt at Morgan,“If he comes toward you throw some of that on him.”

The last thing Morgan had expected was for the woman to know she was being haunted in the first place, much less to have something on hand for keeping him back. Was this survival coping in action or were they somehow...friendly? From the way she swore, probably not. But still--what? Morgan was so befuddled she almost dropped the travel size salt bag. She stammered unintelligibly before throwing a small sprinkle of salt Larry’s way. Yep, just as effective as the iron. But it also happened to bounce off him, not through him. “I’m sorry, but you-- you know he’s there? And what he is?” This much was obvious, but she was still trying to process. “Are you...okay? I mean, you seem okay. Very okay, more than, even, it’s just uh, most people wouldn’t with that guy hanging over their shoulder all stalker-like.” From the looks of the woman, she was one of the more okay looking people Morgan had ever met, and familiar too, though she couldn’t match her face in her head yet. And in her uncertainty, she blabbered on until she ran out of breath. “I just thought, well, maybe you didn’t know! So I’d try...something. To help you, I mean. But you do know! So… sorry, I’m Morgan and definitely not this weird all the time. Have we met before maybe? I would love to have made a better first impression on you some other time.”

It was good that the other woman was quick to throw the dash of salt she’d been given as it caused some recoil from Larry Bob. Jasmine gave the woman an approving nod before she lunged forward with her iron rod and whacked Larry on the head with the iron rod. The kickback of it not going through him made her stumble backward slightly, but he seemed about done with trying to attack him. A nice dose of salt and iron usually made him fuck off for a little while. Her hair was now disheveled as she turned back to Morgan. Normally, she would have not advertised she could see ghosts, but it was clear this was an ability they shared. She let out a dramatic sigh as she responded, “Yeah, he’s a ghost… a poltergeist more specifically. Which I know because I can see ghosts and obviously so can you.” This woman was definitely a little spazzy and caught off guard by the fact Jasmine knew what she was doing. Admittedly, she knew she didn’t look like she could hold her own in a fight, but to be fair, neither did the pint-sized woman who was originally wielding a hanger. “That’s a logical thing to think. Most people don’t know. I just happen to be an exorcist with a poltergeist because a certain someone doesn’t realize trying to make my life hell doesn’t make his sad excuse of a life any more impressive.” The last part she said pointedly even though Larry had faded away. At the mention of hoping she made a better first impression, Jasmine piped in, “We have met. At Bea’s party. Your first impression was good, not that this one was like bad or anything either. I mean, you tried to fight a ghost for me.”

“A POLTER--” Morgan covered her mouth before she drew the attention of the whole store. The young woman, Jasmine, she remembered now, was being remarkably chill about this, and if she wasn’t freaking out about her poltergeist stalker then why was Morgan having a fit about it in public? Sure, she’d been killed by a ghost before, but Larry over there didn’t look murderous so much as just...douchey. But as Jasmine went on, more pieces started to fall together. Morgan had to admit, she didn’t realize exorcists could look like Jasmine: indulgently polished, young, flippantly bold. But then she’d only really met Rebecca before, so who was she to be surprised? “That’s pretty impressive,” she said, gathering herself. “I wish I’d known when we first met, but I guess I should know by now that any friend of Bea’s is bound to be spooky or magical somehow. You’re Jasmine, right? You must’ve been at this awhile to be so chill about a tag-along like...Larry. And I...guess I did try to fight thim, huh? I’m kind of um…” She struggled to find a polite euphemism for what she was, ultimately settling on, “Dead. Almost five months now as it happens. So there’s not much they can really do to get to me.”

Thankfully, Morgan covered her own mouth before Jasmine had to. The last thing she needed was someone hearing them and thinking she was crazy. Especially not the shop owner. This was the best place in town to find high end business professional clothing. “Yes,” she said in a hushed tone, “A poltergeist. Which I know is bad. Like really bad and I’m working on it.” While she couldn’t say Morgan was wrong, she knew she was impressive for a multitude of reasons, she was still more curious about how Morgan could see the ghost and how he somehow became solid. The solid part was arguably more concerning, but hey, it was a little more satisfying to hit him and have it land for real. “That’s me. It’s Morgan, right? I guess I have been. My aunt taught me how to do exorcisms when I was around 19. Plus, pretty used to this particular ghost. Trying to get rid of him, but turns out he may be a two woman job,” she explained. As Morgan explained why she could see ghosts, Jasmine’s jaw quite literally dropped. Dead? Sure, she was pasty, but she just chalked that up to needing a good dose of Vitamin D. The only dead person she’d known was dead prior to this had just been Bea. “Huh,” she mused out loud, “I didn’t realize that was a thing, but hey, for being dead you sure are pretty. Good nothing to get to you though.” In a more hushed tone she asked, “So like are you a vampire or something? I don’t really know much outside of ghosts.”

Morgan was relieved more than anything to see Jasmine at least a little concerned about the polter. Although the idea that they took a long time to ‘work on’ was kind of distressing, given the state of her own personal demon girl. “Are those..um…?” Morgan squeaked. “Do they usually take...a lot of working on? Is that a thing?” She looked over her shoulder uncertainly at where Larry had just been. Maybe this wasn’t really the time. They were in public, after all. She smirked at Jasmine’s compliment and tossed her hair back, smirking, only a little shrill as her unease rolled off and away from her. “What can I say, it’s hard to keep a good girl down.” She smiled warmly at the question, appreciating the tact and concern. “You’re close, but I like brains better than blood,” she said. “It’s not as bad as the movies make it out to be. I mean, the Dawn of the Dead never looked this cute, right? Oh, and before you ask, it’s only been five months. I’m not like, a hundred or anything. But I will look just this good when I am, apparently.”

Jasmine frowned slightly at the question mostly because she hated the answer. Normally, poltergeists were easy enough to remove with an exorcism. Sure, performing an exorcism was physically exhausting and sometimes she ended up with some cuts along the way, but prior to Larry Bob they had always ended with there no longer being a ghost. “No, she answered with a hint of an edge in her voice, “He’s the only poltergeist I’ve had a particularly difficult time getting rid of.” Thankfully, Tiffany seemed to be too preoccupied with her phone to bother paying attention to what was going on around the shop. No one paying attention to them or what happened with Larry Bob was a good thing and meant her reputation was still intact. She hated online shopping and didn’t want to have to drive too far out of town to get nice clothes. Her face brightened as Morgan joked and she laughed in response. “Does that mean you have brains and beauty?” It was easier to joke than to acknowledge that she was a bit alarmed. Bea being back from the dead had thrown her for enough of a loop. Ghosts were one thing, but weren’t zombies and vampires supposed to be all grr? That was a bit out of her wheelhouse though she trusted any friend of Bea’s wasn’t going to hurt her. “Dawn of the Dead’s got nothing on you, that’s for damn sure. That’s a pretty big change, but hey, you’ve got eternal hotness going for you, so congratulations to you on that one.” She wasn’t sure if being new to the whole zombie thing was more or less comforting. She blurted out, “So… brains, huh?”

“Oh!” Morgan’s voice came out as a bright pop and she wasn’t sure whether to feel guilty about it or not. She didn’t care about whether Constance was a poltergeist or not, she just wanted her to leave and suffer. But she also wanted her friends to get out of this unscathed. No more hospitals, no more tears, no more hurt, no more staring at death through the eyes of an angry, pimpled face. It was good to know that if Constance snapped, she would still be easy to crush. “I was just curious,” she added, a little awkwardly. “I have a uh, not quite polter problem too, and I was just, you know, wondering. For obvious reasons. Not really into the ‘collateral damage’ scene. Been there, done that!” She laughed, but it came out a little hollow and shrill. Nell and Taki had been hurt because of Constance. Deirdre had been hurt because of Constance. Blanche had been hurt tracking her down. If Constance decided that she needed to go after anyone besides Deirdre-- Morgan didn’t want to think about it. She had enough reasons to take the ghost apart piece by piece. It was much, much nicer talking about how attractive they both were, and so much easier for making friends. At least Jasmine knew how to take care of herself around a spirit. Morgan wouldn’t be endangering her too much if they hit it off.

“Thank you! It is really nice looking this great without embalming, even with the brains and all. That part’s super real, but a little snack of preserved eyeballs and organs? Also good. I’m just kinda sad I’m never gonna know if I looked hot with gray hairs, you know? But you are kind of extraordinary to look at, if that’s not too weird to say. I’m, you know, I have a girlfriend. But like, that manicure! It’s gorgeous. I’m always so worried my hands are gonna freak people out if they have to touch them.” As she said this, she realized her hand was already held out to shake and--yikes. Too much. Morgan pulled her hand away, smiling apologetically. “I’m sorry, for crashing your shopping trip. If you’re anything like the other exorcists I’ve known, you definitely deserve some TLC. Um, that dress really does look pretty, by the way. I hope you get it.”

At the mention of having some degree of a ghost problem, Jasmine straightened up a little bit. To a degree, she hated all of this. Exorcisms were draining. Seeing dead people got exhausting. None of it was quite how she used to envision her life, but she couldn’t just sit here with these powers and ignore her calling. What she knew for sure was that she definitely deserved the new pair of shoes she was getting to go with her new dress. “A not quite polter problem,” she said slowly just to make sure she heard right, “Is this something you’d let me check out? This ghost may not want to show their face to an exorcist, but I do know a few spellcasters who could probably summon them.” To lighten the mood a bit, she added, “Since you’re a friend of Bea’s, I’ll even give you a friends and family discount.” At least not quite a poltergeist could mean slightly less complex. It still left an uneasy feeling within her that she opted to ignore for the time being until Morgan opted to give her more information.

This part of the conversation was easier and involved a lot less potential danger. Morgan didn’t seem like she was jonesing for her brains though the thought did cross her mind. Jasmine lit up a bit and added, “Well, you’re definitely the prettiest dead girl I’ve ever seen… and trust me, I’ve seen a lot. Also, eh, I’ll let you keep those snacks to yourself. Not really up my alley personally, but like, different nutritional needs I’m sure.” Eyeballs and brains still had a major ick factor though. God, when she died, she just wanted to stay dead and hopefully that would be a very long time from now. That thought quickly faded as Morgan began complimenting her. With a flip of her hair, she responded, “You know, hair dye does exist, but thank you. I can’t help but agree with you.” She looked down to the dress. “You think so,” she asked, “Red is usually more my color but this shade of burnt orange is perfect for fall.” She laughed a bit, “Don’t worry, didn’t think you were trying to hit on me. I could totally do your nails though. My dad grounded me for like six months my junior year of high school, so I got pretty good at doing them myself. Trust me, it takes a lot more than cold hands to freak me out.” An uncertainty she felt about the whole zombie thing was quickly fading. Morgan was fun and seemingly sweet. Once they got rid of her ghost, it’d be all good times.

Morgan waved away Jasmine’s concern, covering her uneasy laugh with a smile. “I’m getting it figured out, no worries. It’s not like she follows me around all the time.” Just some spontaneous attempted murder. Just girl stuff. “But, you know, anything goes south and you’ll be my first call.” So far, exorcisms ‘to the pain’ were a little hard to come by, and there wasn’t much of a roadmap for finding the worst of the worst either. As plausible as it seemed that Jasmine would have some idea, she couldn’t risk her going out and getting rid of Constance the easy way behind her back. They’d only just met, Jasmine had no reason to trust her sob story. Maybe later, when Morgan wasn’t just some rando to her, she’d explain it better. “‘Sides, maybe by then we’ll be friends too, no middle gal, however truly exceptional she might be.” Morgan smiled with relief as Jasmine took everything in stride. “I am no stranger to red,” she said, gesturing down to her own tunic cardigan, slumping artfully off one shoulder. “But orange is just so… I mean it just screams October and pumpkin spice, right?” Her smile widened as she went on. “That would be amazing! You know, I’ve never gotten the knack of doing my own nails, I don’t know if it’s a left handed thing or what, but it never comes out right. And come to think of it, I’m sure you have lots of stories, especially if you’ve been in town your whole life. Um, whenever you’re free, we should--I don’t know, do nails. Or hair. Something nice in all this White Crest--” she waved her fingers vaguely, “Nonsense. And we can bring salt! It might be nice to get to know one another without ghostly plus ones, right?”

Jasmine tilted her head not quite believing that statement, but she had to trust Morgan would come to her if things got too heated. It wasn’t as if she could go out looking for this ghost with so little information. “Good, please do keep me posted if anything escalates. The longer she sticks around, the worse she’ll get,” she explained and hoped the situation was given the proper attention. Since really learning about her powers and what she was capable of, she felt a sense of duty to keep people safe from bad ghosts. Jasmine doubted she was the only exorcist in town. As long as it was being handled, that was what mattered, so she laughed and agreed, “You know, I think we can work on that. Being friends without the stunning middle woman.” As Morgan gestured at her tunic, Jas added, “Which I do love on you, really brings out your eyes, but you’re right. It’s pumpkin spice season, why not dress like what everyone is craving… well, you know besides me.” The last part came off almost joking, but she definitely believed it to be true. She was funny, gorgeous, wealthy, and happened to save people from ghosts on the side. What was there not to love? “I’m getting it,” she exclaimed before excitedly adding, “Oh, you’re definitely coming over to my place for a proper manicure and most likely some wine. My hot tub is, like, super nice, too. Also, my home is ghost free due to some handy wards and tons of salt so no unwanted plus ones. If you couldn’t tell by my resounding agreement, I’d love to get to know you better and become actual friends. Especially if I get to paint your nails. Makeovers are kind of my thing.” Somehow, Morgan’s energy was a bit contagious. She never thought she’d be making friends with a zombie, but hey, she was solid and didn’t haunt people so who was she to judge? She had a feeling they’d be fast friends.

[psycho-slytherin]

Last words

You go undercover and encounter the last thing you’d expect as an assassin– competition.

Pairing: Spy!Jungkook x Assassin!Reader

Genre: Angst, idiots to idiots


Warnings: Strong language, violence, murder


WC: kill me 8.9k


|mlist|

“Please let me go. Please! I have a family! My husband, my daughters…” tears stream down your target’s face as he struggles with his restraints.

“Your family isn’t paying me,” you reply, finger twitching on the trigger. Why is he trying to evoke sympathy? You don’t do sympathy, and you certainly don’t let targets go.

“I-If it’s money you want, I’ll pay!”

You lower the muzzle. “How much?”

“Uh, twenty thousand? Please, just spare me!”

You suck on your teeth, raising the gun again. “No can do, they’re paying me more.” Maybe if he’d suggested an offer worth considering, you’d take longer to think about it. As it is...

“Wait-” But the man is cut off when you pull the trigger, and a neat hole appears in his head. His lifeless body slumps forward, but given that he was already on his knees he doesn’t have far to fall. The range was close enough that your bullet went right through him, and you pick it up with gloved hands. It’s always a good idea to collect whatever evidence you can. 

People seem to think that a person’s last words are thoughtful, deep, artistic. You’ve been present for a lot of last words, and they’re rarely beautiful. Usually wait or no or fuck you. There’s little glamour in your line of work– unless your clients pay extra.

You pad downstairs. The old warehouse you brought him to is scheduled to be demolished in five hours. Another clean hit, and some good commission.

~~~ Three weeks later

“What’ve you got for me?”

You can hear AD typing quickly over the phone. “You’re in luck. Where are you?” Code for new assignment. Are you alone?

“I’m safe.” You’re staying at a farmhouse, far from civilization as you wait for your next hit. No cameras, no mics, no company. 

“Alright, name’s Bang Si-Hyuk, he goes by ‘Hitman’ Bang ‘cause he plays dirty with his guards. He hires killers-turned-security, and he’s always surrounded. The man’s got half the underground– and way too many politicians– in his pocket.”

“Dude. Are you giving me an assignment or a goddamn death sentence?”

“It’s a forty-five thousand dollar job. What are you gonna say to that?”

You whistle. Your assignments usually range from fifteen to thirty thousand– above forty is halfway to ridiculous. “Yes sir.”

AD chuckles. “That’s what I thought. We’re gonna send an anonymous death threat his way so he starts hiring again– you’re playing bodyguard, got it?”

“I got it. Rough-and-tumble.”

“Yep. Your character is basically gonna be you, but lamer. We’ve got documents and ID waiting for you at the drop location. Your interview is this Friday, dress code is mean. I’m sending all the info to your phone.”

“Sounds good. How long will this take me?”

“However long it takes for you to get close to Hitman. Y/n, be careful, okay? You’re gonna be surrounded by a lot of professionals with your background. You have to confirm Hitman was your kill, so don’t let anyone get to him first. And you can’t afford to let your cover slip.”

You scoff. “When have I ever let my cover slip, AD?”

“Just take care. If you get hurt, I don’t want to have to pick up the pieces, figuratively or otherwise.”

~~~ Friday

“Next!” 

You stand and stalk into the gym. It’s empty, save for two men sitting behind a desk and a gigantic guy in the boxing ring.

“Name?”

“Kang Soo-Jin.”

“Yeah, we got her,” one of the men says, shuffling some papers. “I thought she’d be bigger.”

“I thought she’d be a man. So, Kang,” the first man looks you up and down from over sunglasses. “What’ve you got?”

“I was a killer-for-hire for five years,” you recite in a bored voice. You’re using enough of your real life to ensure your character’s authenticity, but not so much that they’ll recognize your reputation. “Forty confirmed kills. Turned to security after a jail scare. I’m fluent in six languages, and I can bullshit my way through four more. Trained in multiple martial arts– fighting dirty’s more fun, though– and ‘bout every weapon I could get my hands on. I’m educated enough to talk smarts and lived on the streets enough to talk shit. What else you wanna know?” Technically your kill count is sixty-two, but you’re supposed to have retired from the life you’re leading now. Like AD said– yourself, but lamer.

Sunglasses flips through your profile. “Can you fight in that outfit?”

You’re wearing black boots, sweatpants, and a longsleeve with a leather jacket. Gotta look the part, and the dress code was mean. “Better than anyone.”

“You’re confident, girlie. Prove it. Get into the ring.”

Thanks to AD, you knew this would be part of the interview. You’re not worried– you’ve been fighting men bigger and stronger than you since you were a kid.

“Are you armed?” Sunglasses asks as you shrug off your jacket.

“Is that a trick question?”

“Very funny, girlie. This is hand-to-hand only. No guns, no knives. No tasers or other bullshit.”

In view of the three men, you remove two handguns from their hidden holsters and a knife from a sheath on your hip. You’ve got another knife on your thigh, but they don’t need to know about that. You slip into the ring, stretching your arms above your head to loosen up. 

“Alright, Kang, let’s see what you can do. No killing, try not to break any bones– besides that, fuck shit up.” Sunglasses signals, and the giant in the ring stomps towards you.

He’s big and strong. You’re small and fast, and unarmed.

“If you can’t win, run. If you can’t run, hide. If you can’t hide, fight. If you can’t fight, lie.” Such is the assassin’s motto.

Wasting no time, the giant swings a fist at you. You jump backwards, ducking and weaving around an onslaught of blows. This guy is trained, well enough that you can’t afford to slip up. Still, you’re not one to go all-out unless you need to; you need to fight just well enough to get hired, and badly enough that you can take your employers by surprise if you must.

The next time he throws out a hook, you duck and roll forward, ending up behind him. He turns around, shifting his weight onto one foot as he steps, and that’s your chance. You swing your leg down and around, connecting solidly with the back of his knee. 

“Ugh!” With a grunt, he falls forward. Like any trained fighter would, though, he begins to rise right away. You know grappling is a big no-no for opponents bigger than you, but he’s right there, and given that you’re not allowed to put a blade in his back, it might be the quickest way of ending this performance. In the split second before he’s standing, you leap onto his back, scrambling until you’re sitting on his shoulders. You have to move fast– if you can’t neutralize him quickly, he can just fall backwards and pin you down, or grab your legs and launch you forward. You lock your legs around the giant’s neck and squeeze– it’s what you’ve nicknamed the Romanov chokehold, given how much the Avenger utilizes this inconvenient move.

The giant gasps for air, punching and slapping at your legs. You hiss, withstanding the blows of a struggling man. You can feel his strikes growing weaker as you keep up the pressure, squeezing your thighs tighter around his throat. 

Are you actually going to win a fight with the Romanov chokehold? You’re gonna owe AD fifty bucks, dammit.

Suddenly, you feel the man’s arms snake upwards and grab your hands, which were locked under his chin. He pulls hard, yanking you off– you land flat on your back, the wind knocked out of you. You can hear Sunglasses and the other man chuckling. Ugh. You don’t like embarrassing yourself, but whatever it takes to convince them you’re not a threat. 

If you can’t fight, lie.

You get up, chuckling ignoring your aching back. “Nice. I bet you win all your fights this easy, huh?”

The giant raises his fists, tensed, on guard. “You ain’t distractin’ me, girl.”

“Who says I’m trying to distract you?” You throw a quick punch, aiming right for the center of his face. Conventional deflections mean that he’ll parry to one side or the other. Lucky for you, he’s conventionally trained. As your fist glances off his block, you use the movement to grab his ear and pinch his earlobe between your nails. You’ve got a lot of experience with which body parts can withstand the most pain before there’s a protective reflex. Earlobes have one of the lowest thresholds, which means...

“Ah! What the fuck?” He claps his hand over his ear, forcing you to let go. Perfect. He’s right where you need him. With his arms raised to protect his sensitive ears, you have a chance to lunge forward. He might think you’re going for his eyes or throat, but you have another goal in mind. 

You open your mouth and bite down hard on his bicep, your canines grinding together as though trying to meet through his flesh. You know from your training, and from personal experience, that biting this particular bit of skin and muscle hurts like a bitch. The giant roars in pain and stumbles in an attempt to pry you off of him, and you use his imbalance to grab his shirt and pull him backwards. He lands with a resounding THUD and, teeth still digging into his arm, you press your elbow into his throat, cutting off circulation for the few precious seconds that you need...to...win. As soon as his eyes flutter closed and his head falls back, you release your hold. 

You climb out of the ring to see Sunglasses and the other man staring at you.

“I broke skin, you’re gonna want to make sure he gets that disinfected,” you supply, reaching for your jacket.

“You… you pinched and bit him. What kind of fighter are you?” Sunglasses scratches his head, his voice revealing disbelief.

“The kind that does what she has to do. You told me not to break bones or kill. All I did was fuck shit up.”

Sunglasses whistles. “Welcome to the team, Kang. You’ve got the job.”

~~~ Monday

You’re dressed in your new uniform. Sunglasses, whose name you’ve learned is Agent Jung, introduces you to “the team”: Agents Kim, Kim, and Kim; Agent Park; and Agent Jeon. Of course you’re the only woman on a seven-person team. In your line of work, that’s not uncommon. 

“I’m in charge around here. That means I say jump, y’all ask how high, got it? Aight. Here’s the deal– three guards will be present with Mr. Bang at all times,” Agent Jung says. “The other four of you will be split into pairs to patrol the area. Six-hour shifts, and you will work two shifts per day. Agents Kim Taehyung, Park, and myself will take the first shift with Mr. Bang. Agents Kim Seokjin and Namjoon, take the east half of the estate. Agents Jeon and Kang, the west half. Stick together so nothing goes wrong. Meet back here in six hours to exchange posts. Dismissed.”

Dammit, how easy would it have been if you had the first shift with Hitman? It’s fine, you’ll just play along as a good guard until you can get closer to your target. 

You follow Jeon through the labyrinth of a house, which seems more like a castle. Where is this guy getting his money?

“Okay,” Agent Jeon says, stopping suddenly. “Let’s split up.”

What? “Jung said not to.”

Jeon folds his arms, raising a brow. “And you’re going to obey?”

You exhale sharply. “I’m going to do the job I was hired to do.” Splitting up and disobeying on your first day will cast you under scrutiny and suspicion. You have to play the good girl for now. 

“Whatever,” Jeon chuckles. “I’m going.”

“Really, dude? You’re gonna get me in trouble. At least wait for a shift when we’re not paired together.”

“Why should I care about a girl who can’t even fight?” Oy vey. Is he provoking you on purpose? “I can fight fine, man.”

“Prove it.”

Why is he challenging you? What is with him? “We’re on duty,” you snap. “Quit slacking off and let’s do the work we’re paid for.”

Jeon whistles. “Feisty.”

“Shove it up your ass, Agent. I don’t need another man telling me I’m in the wrong line of work.”

“Oh, so I’m just one in a long list of shitheads, huh?” Jeon leans against the wall. You remain standing straight up– you don’t know the last time you’ve let down your guard. 

“You wouldn’t make top twenty,” you reply. 

“Yeesh. I get the message. Well, since we’re gonna be stuck together for a while…” Jeon sticks out his hand. “Call me Jungkook.”

Unexpected. But okay. “I’m Soo-Jin. Are you new, too?”

“I’ve been here about a month. The longer you’ve been here, the more they trust you as one of the boss’s personal guards. Trust me, you’re gonna be stuck on perimeter patrol for a while,” Jungkook says, as though he knows what you’re thinking.

Dammit. This job is going to cost more time than you were hoping. Still, 45k, 45k, eye on the prize.

“So, six hours. Do we talk, or…?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Do you want to talk?”

“Not if you’re going to keep on with the misogynistic digs.”

“Gotcha, gotcha. Sorry about that,” Jungkook says, laughing as he raises his hands in surrender. “I’ll be less of an asshole, promise.”

You smirk, turning to scan the halls. “It’s so empty.” Two cameras on the eastern wall. A big mirror at the end of the hall– is it a two-way mirror? Probably. The ceiling is well supported by strong beams. You could probably escape to the roof if you needed to, but how much of an escape is that? 

“So what’s your thing?” Jungkook asks suddenly, snapping you out of your stupor.

“What d’you mean?”

“I heard you’re an ex-assassin, and like, all of the best have a thing. Did you mark your bullets?” Jungkook taps his gun. “Were you a Robin Hood? Did you kiss all your victims?”

“Gross, man!” You laugh. Clearly the only experience he’s had with your line of work is through movies. Why’s this puppy working for Hitman? “No, I never kissed a dead body. Never stole from the rich and gave to the poor, unless the poor was yours truly and the rich were stubborn clients. And marking bullets messes with the aerodynamics.” You’re worried that you’re being too honest, telling him about your life– what if he’s an undercover cop? But Hitman’s men were double- and triple-checking applications, according to AD. Besides, Hitman has every police department in the area feeding from his hand. 

“So what was your thing then? Did you have a signature?” In Jeon’s eyes you can see the excitement of a child. 

“The best signature for someone like me is the lack of a signature. And what’s got you so happy?” You ask amusedly. 

“Oh, I mean…” And Jeon’s voice has dropped again to that of a seasoned guard. “I grew up thinking I’d be a cop. Circumstances didn’t work out, and I landed myself a security job. I always wanted to do what you did, though. Never had the guts for it.”

“Trust me, it’s nothing to be jealous of.” You think of cold evenings on rooftops, unnerving undercover work, hopeless spirals with the monster in the mirror. “It means a lot of lonely nights.”

“Well, you won’t be so lonely anymore,” Jungkook says, before turning red. “Wait- that came out wrong. I’m not hitting on you, I swear!”

“Good, ‘cause you’d be doing a terrible job.”

“I’m a great flirt when I want to be,” he replies, his tone dramatic.

You snicker. “I’d take a page out of your book and ask you to prove it, but I’d hate to watch you embarrass yourself in front of a pretty girl.”

Jungkook whistles. “Did you just insult me and compliment yourself in the same sentence? It looks like I’ve met my match.”

Oof, cute and funny. And he hasn’t called you “girlie” once. You’d better end this before you let yourself get too carried away. It’s just a job, and he’s just an obstacle between you and your 45,000-dollar target.

“It looks like you’re slacking on the job, Jeon.” You’ve reached the end of the hall, and so you spin on your heel and begin marching back the way you came, scanning your surroundings. If another assassin got to Hitman first, your prize money and reputation would go down the drain. Play the character, don’t be suspicious, and don’t get attached. 

“Sheesh, don’t be so uptight,” Jeon says, hurrying after you. 

“Whatever, let’s just patrol.”

“Yes ma’am,” Jeon replies sarcastically.

The rest of the shift is spent in relative silence. After several hours, you and Jungkook head back to the main room to meet with the other agents. This transition period might be the best time for you to strike, you’ll have to mention that to AD.

The next shift is your break, and after commenting about how tired you are, you head ‘home’. That is, you drop your things at a safehouse, along with any identification, and change into civilian clothing: baggy, boring, anonymous. You fit your earpiece in and contact AD.

“Y/n?”

“AD, hi. I’m gonna scout the perimeter of the estate now, alright?”

“Keep me posted, I’ll be on the line.”

“Yep.”

It’s well past midnight when you arrive at the estate again. You always spend the first night on an undercover job toeing the property line, so to speak.

“It’s like robbing a bank,” you murmur as the house comes into view. “Only harder, ‘cause at least in a bank the only armed murderer is me.”

“Eyes on the prize, y/n.”

“Yeah, whatever. Cameras on the southern and eastern walls. The gate’s heavy– I could climb it, but…”

“Hitman got one of the best security firms in the country to rig it, that shit’s electric.”

“Right. The grass is soft, not a great sign… maybe if I wore the work shoes they gave me? I’m leaving footprints either way.”

“Those shoes are your size, and it’s not amateur hour ‘round here. Did you manage to get the WiFi?”

“They didn’t give it to us. But there’s a network called ‘Bang 5G’ so at least you know it’s there– hey!”

“Y/n? What’s going-” you don’t hear him, you’re too busy sprinting after a black-clad figure. With gloved hands, the person gets a grip and vaults clean over the gate, landing on their feet on the grass beyond.

“AD, someone just scaled the electrified fucking gate,” you pant. Even with gloves, that’s crazy.

“Go after them! You can’t let someone get to Hitman first.”

“How do I get over the gate?”

“I’m not the legendary assassin with sixty-two confirmed kills! Figure it out!”

“Dick.” You look around wildly– the gates are connected at the corners of the estate by brick pillars. Good. That’s something. You run at the pillar closest to you and leap, scrambling up and over it using only the power of adrenaline and your poor fingertips. You land hard, sinking into the soft grass of the lawn, and look up in time to see the figure running along the edge of the roof. How did he get up there? And where’s his climbing gear? The walls are smooth, vertical, with no handholds to speak of on the lower fifteen feet. 

If you can’t get up, bring them down. You withdraw your handgun and line up your shot. You might not be an acrobat, but you can shoot.

You pull the trigger, the bringer of death a familiar weight in your hands. You don’t kill unless you’re paid for it, though. The bullet grazes your target and you see them stumble, clutching their side. With one backwards glance at you, they catapult themselves off the roof and land on their feet on the other side of the gate. What the fuck. What kind of strength does this person have?

“Y/n? I heard a shot, what’s going on?” AD speaks urgently into your ear.

“Abort.”

“What?”

You start running back to the gate. “Fucking abort, AD. We’re done for tonight. Someone else is after Hitman.” You launch yourself at the brick pillar and land hard on the sidewalk outside the estate. 

“Shit. But we knew this could happen, he’s not exactly popular.”

“Fine, but tonight was supposed to be a casing night. My footprints are on the grass!”

You hear AD mutter something like “amateur” as he types. “Did you get caught on camera?”

“Probably? I also shot a guy, if that’s relevant.”

“It’s really not. Okay, I’m gonna hack into their system– which would be easier with the WiFi password, by the way– and keep you off the footage. Your excuse for your next shift is up to you. Take a couple hours and sleep it off, y/n. It’s not like you to be this reckless.”

“Fuck you.”

~~~ Six hours later

“Agent Jeon, Agent Kang, take the east wing of the estate. Dismissed.”

“C’mon, this way.” Jungkook leads you down a long corridor as you begin your next shift.

“Right.”

“Hey, you okay?” Jungkook looks at you with concern. “You seem tired.”

“Six hours of sleep will do that to a person, dude.” Six? Try three, if you got any at all. You’re exhausted, yeah, but you’ve never let that stop you from doing your job.

“Heh, yeah. This work schedule is intense, but the pay is good.” 

“And not much seems to happen, huh?”

Jungkook shrugs, then seems to wince. “Not since I’ve worked here. We get trespassers sometimes, but they just leave when we tell them to.”

“You okay?”

Jungkook looks at the floor. “Yeah, turns out I fell asleep on top of my dog’s toy. The only time I get to sleep, and I wake up hurting like a bitch. How’s that for unfair?”

“Aw, poor baby.”

Jungkook pushes you playfully. “Hey!”

The contact sets your nerves on edge. Danger. You grab his outstretched arm and twist it behind his back, pressing hard enough to almost dislocate his shoulder, your vision is cloudy, tinged red–

“Ow! Kang– fuck! Soo-Jin!”

You blink once, twice. What… what are you doing? You release your hold on Jungkook; did you really just break character like that? No, wait, you can make this work. “I’m sorry– ah, shit.” You step back. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine…” Jungkook groans, rubbing his shoulder. “What was that?”

“Just an instinct. One of the leftovers from the person I used to be.” You avert your gaze, your body language ashamed. Jungkook seems to take the bait. But… how much can it count as bait, if it’s so true it hurts?

“Hey, it’s okay. I shouldn’t have startled you.” He flashes you a grin, and you feel your heart do something funny in your chest. “I can’t imagine the stuff you’ve been through.”

Why is he acting sympathetic? You don’t do sympathy. But yeah, getting closer to the other guards can’t hurt on a mission like this. You’re in this for the long haul, if last night’s acrobat doesn’t get to Hitman first.

“We’ve all got our own shit to deal with,” you reply.

“Well, if you ever need someone to talk to…” Jungkook shrugs, wincing again. “Goddamn Gureum, leaving his toy on my bed.”

You laugh. “I’ll keep it in mind, but I don’t think therapy will add to my intimidation resume.”

The hours pass quicker once you allow yourself to talk to Jungkook more. You know he has to be cold-blooded, and a skilled fighter, if he landed the job. But every time he laughs, every time he stares out into space and seems to forget even to breathe, you wonder where he hides his bloodlust. 

“Damn, I never knew an assassin could have a sense of humor,” Jungkook says eventually. “None of the other agents here ever want to do anything except patrol.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” you say dryly, rolling your eyes. “That is our job.”

Jungkook sweeps his arm grandly, displaying the estate. It’s empty, save several guards. “Ah yes, look at the multitude of threats we face.”

You think of the acrobat from last night. “Right.”

“Anyways, wanna fight?”

For a second you think you’ve misheard him. “Excuse me? Haven’t we been over this?”

Jungkook shifts his weight, cracking his knuckles. “I heard you bit your way to a win during your interview.”

“So what?”

“I want to see your fighting style– c’mon, how does a professional assassin take someone out with teeth and claws? You’re not a cat, there’s gotta be something else to you.”

“I hate to break it to you, but there wasn’t a lot of close combat in my work. A good assassin never fights fair. And, if you haven’t noticed…” you step up close to him, your eyes only level with his collarbone. You’re so close you can hear his breathing become ragged, shallow, as you continue: “I’m small. Shooting from a distance, backstabbing, incapacitating my targets– that’s what people like me do.”

In truth, you’ve had your fair share of combat. But letting Jungkook see that side of you? Not a good idea.

“Then why quit?”

“What?”

“I get it– you’re an assassin, not a fighter. But why go into security?”

“I almost got caught,” you recite automatically. “My skills aren’t super transferrable– I didn’t have a lot of options.”

“Speak for yourself, I think you’d make a great birthday clown,” Jungkook laughs, and you smile along with him. Too bad he doesn’t know the real you– or maybe it’s a good thing. No one could love a monster.

You knew what you were getting into when you started down your path. You accepted that you’d be a changed woman– what you didn’t know was that your eyes wouldn’t be the same as they were before. Each time you see yourself anew, you confront the humanity that’s drained from your face. Your eyes have begun to resemble your targets’– dull, unfeeling, dead. 

You’re a monster. A killer. You snuff out lives for money. There’s no going back to the girl you were, and no point in regret. And so each morning, you take a deep breath and lie. To yourself, AD, and everyone. It’s okay. I’m okay.

Fuck, maybe you should see a therapist. 

After your shift, you spend the next six hours staking out Hitman’s estate. The acrobat doesn’t return, and you grind your teeth together with anxiety. “AD, did you see him on the footage that you hacked?”

“Just the mask. His body language is right-hand and left-leg dominant. This guy’s training is super unconventional; I haven’t seen that climbing style anywhere.”

“Ugh, so weird.”

“Says you.”

“Shut up, asshat.”

AD sniggers. “Look, you did shoot this guy today. Have you considered that you’ve either, like, injured him badly or scared him off?”

“No. He’s still around, and he’s going to try again.”

“How do you know?”

Because he’s like me. “I just do.”

You can almost hear AD’s shrug. “Aight, trust your instincts. Your next shift is soon, though. Better get ready.”

You groan. “This work schedule is brutal.”

“And you’re spending your time off stalking a ghost. Are you planning on getting any sleep?”

You hesitate a second too long. “Yes.”

AD sighs. “Take care of yourself, idiot. You can’t guard the house 24/7. You’re spending half the day working, remember?”

“That’s what I’ve got you for. Keep an eye on the cameras.”

“Get me the Wi-Fi password and I’ll think about it.”

You roll your eyes before heading back to your safehouse, changing, and returning for your shift. Here we go.

And there you went. The next week passes much in the same fashion– patrolling the wings of the vast estate for six or twelve hours, sleeping the bare minimum you need to survive, and returning to your target’s house to make sure the mystery acrobat doesn’t get to Hitman first.

You spend most of your patrol time with Jungkook; it makes sense, you’re the two newest recruits. For a security goon, he’s pretty funny. You’ve dealt with security guards in the past for your jobs, but most of your interactions involved them trying to kill you– or vice versa. For all that you’re undercover as Kang Soo-Jin, you’re actually enjoying spending time with Agent Jeon Jungkook.

“Why are you working for Mr. Bang?” You ask him on Monday morning. You haven’t spoken with Jungkook in a couple days, as you were paired with Agent Park for your last several shifts.

Jungkook cocks his head as you stroll together along the west side of the estate, a route you’ve already committed to memory. “What do you mean?”

It’s been bothering you for a while. “Mr. Bang tends to hire killers, mercenaries, people like… well, me. Why did you take this job?”

Jungkook chews on his lip thoughtfully as he stares out of the window. “I mean… the pay is good.”

You shove him playfully. “C’mon, man, there’s gotta be something else.”

“Alright, alright!” Jungkook raises his arms in surrender, laughing. “You know I wanted to be an assassin. I was too chicken, and never knew how to get started. When I heard about Mr. Bang, and his reputation, I applied because I wanted to meet people like you. I told Agent Jung I had lots of experience and loose morals, and bada-bing-bada-boom, I get hired.” He does what you assume would have been jazz hands, if not for the gun held tightly in his grip.

“Oh my fucking god, you’re such an idiot,” you snort. “When most people try to meet their idols, they go to concerts, not to a den of killers.”

“What can I say? It’s one of my many charms,” Jungkook replies, winking. Your heart does another thing in your chest. It reminds you of the feeling of jumping into a cold lake– as though your whole body has come alive.

You hope that once you carry out your mission, you won’t have to hurt Agent Jeon along the way. 

“Hey, so…” Jungkook asks after several minutes of patrolling in silence. “What are you doing after your shift?”

“Huh?” For a second, you think you’ve misheard him. “You mean in the twelve hours until I have to be back?” You pulled a double shift– it’s nearing noon, and you’ve been working since midnight.

“Dummy, we don’t have work this weekend,” Jungkook says. “Mr. Bang is going on a business trip. Weren’t you paying attention during the briefing?”

Not even a little were you paying attention– you were too focused on escape routes. You might be able to drug his food? “Sweet.” And you mean it: With Hitman gone, you can catch up on sleep and plotting without having to worry about your competition.

“Anyways, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out– y’know, outside of work? I really want to get to know you better.”

“Uh…” Huh? This isn’t part of your plan. You don’t hang out with targets during a mission. So you should say no, right? But… what harm can come from spending time with your coworker? After all, you are undercover. And if Hitman is leaving for the weekend…

You realize you’ve been silent too long when Jungkook begins to backtrack: “I mean- Soo-Jin, sorry, I wasn’t trying to imply– you know what, never mind-”

“Yeah, okay.” 

“Wait, what?”

You allow your lips to curl upward into a smile. “Sure, why not?” There’s no way it can endanger your mission.

“Awesome!” Jungkook returns your grin enthusiastically, and for the rest of the shift he walks with a spring in his step. It would be endearing, if your heart weren’t frozen and locked in your chest. “Maybe we can do lunch or something. Is tomorrow okay? Do you want me to pick you up at your place?”

“No, that’s okay,” You say hurriedly. Definitely not, no one can know the location of the safehouse. “Lunch tomorrow sounds good, we can meet there.”

“Ah- okay, yeah.”

As your shift comes to an end and the guards reconvene, Agent Jung calls you to attention. “Aight, everyone. As you know, Mr. Bang will be going to the city tomorrow morning for a business meeting– the organization is providing its own security forces, so your services are unnecessary until Monday at 6am sharp. Understood?” “Yes sir!”

Tomorrow morning? Wait, that means you might have a chance to strike in the few hours before he leaves. You know the best time to strike any target is during a period of transition. While everyone is hurried, packing and organizing, Hitman will have his guard down. 

Once you’re changed, you head out the door. Jungkook catches your eye and waves, and you feel your face heat up as you offer a cheeky salute in response. It’s not you’re fault, that toothy grin is so contagious.

Once you’re safely holed up at your base–

“AD, you there?”

“Sure am. What’s up?”

You walk calmly around the safehouse, marking things off your mental checklist. “I’m gonna go for it tonight.”

“Damn, that was fast. What’s going on?”

“We know the location of cameras and the guards’ schedules. Just cause I haven’t met the guy in person doesn’t make this too fast.” Ammo, rifle, scope, suppressor, stand– check. “He’s going on a business trip in the morning, and once he steps out of the house, that’s gonna be my best bet. Besides, now that I’m sure there’s someone else after Hitman, I gotta get to him first.”

“Sounds great. Where do I come in?”

“Can you get me satellite images of my cover options within, say, a kilometer of his door? I tried checking, but his house doesn’t show up on Google Maps. I need a roof where I won’t be interrupted.” You had hoped to pull the infiltrate-eliminate play, but if you have a chance to snipe the Hitman, you’re gonna take it.

“Classic. Yeah, I can do that. I’ll get his schedule too, lemme send that to you.” You hear AD typing quickly on the line. “There’s a car scheduled to pick up Hitman and Agent Jung at 5:30 in the morning.”

You glance at the clock. It’s 1:30 in the afternoon, which means you’ve got sixteen hours to plan your highest-paid killshot of the year. 

Your security uniform shines like a beacon, draped over your chair. It’s a shame you won’t be able to make your lunch appointment with Jungkook tomorrow. You’ve got to be out of the city before Hitman’s body is even cold. Maybe in another life, you could have spent more than a week with the man whose company you find yourself enjoying increasingly each day. 

“AD, let’s take a bit of a break after this one, okay?”

AD chuckles. “With a 45k job, you can take as long a break as you want. Good luck, y/n.”

You spend the afternoon organizing the hit, with AD’s help.

“Jeez, his security on this trip is a fucking brick wall,” AD groans in frustration. “Y/n, if you don’t make the shot when he’s leaving, you’re not gonna have another chance.”

“Mm.” You’re distracted, measuring the angles from a printout of your rooftop perch. AD secured you entrance to a quiet office building three blocks from Hitman’s estate. You’ll have to set up at the southernmost corner of the roof to have the biggest advantage. You’ll go there around midnight– you don’t want to give Hitman a chance to leave early.

Hours pass, and the clock ticks closer to midnight. “I’m headed out,” you say, hoisting your equipment over your shoulder.

“Cool. I’ve got one of my men on the door to the building– give him the password, and keep your head down. Take the stairs, the elevator is monitored. There’s a fire escape on the roof if you need to get down fast. Good luck, y/n.” 

“Thanks.”

You arrive to the building with little trouble, your high-powered rifle concealed in pieces within a worn-out backpack. 

You knock three times on the back door to the building, and immediately a man opens the door. “What do you want?” he growls. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Sorry, I’m lost,” you reply calmly. “I’m looking for the post office.”

The man gives you a quick once-over, eyeing your backpack appreciatively. “You can send letters from here,” he says, stepping back to let you in. You nod, pulling your hood lower over your eyes as you make for the stairwell.

Ten stories later, your legs are burning and your shoulders ache from the weight of your weaponry. But at least you’re on the roof, with a perfect view of Hitman’s brilliant estate. 

“AD, come in.”

Your earpiece crackles to life. “Wassup?”

“I’m in position,” you reply as you unload your backpack and begin to fit your rifle together. “It’s gonna be quiet for a couple hours. Take a nap, man, you’ve earned it.”

At your words, you hear AD yawn. “Good idea. Talk to you later.”

The line goes dead as you finish setting up the rifle stand, careful to aim it so your bullet will strike Hitman as he leaves the house. 

Deep breaths. It’s just another kill, just another target, and more money than you used to make in a year. 

You settle in by your rifle for the five-hour wait. The cold bites deep into your bones– but at least it keeps you from dozing off. 

Around three in the morning, you’re half present, half floating off into a world of your own creation, when a blur of motion darts across your line of sight. What? What? Something’s going on, what–

You press your eye to the gun’s scope, magnifying your vision. A figure creeping down the block, dressed in all black, their movements strong and familiar– the acrobat is back.

“AD?”

Silence on the line. He must still be asleep. You’ve got a couple hours before Hitman leaves, enough time to get this guy and return to the roof. 

Grabbing your handgun and a dagger, you race for the fire escape, skipping steps, practically flying down the stairs. He’s got a headstart on you, but he’s injured. If your earlier bullet hit true– and it always does– too much exertion will reopen his wound. You’re a hyena, stalking your prey, wearing him down until there’s little work left for you to do. 

Your target slows to a walk, still a block ahead of you as you reach the sidewalk, closing in on Hitman’s estate. Finally reaching the ground, and with your heart hammering in your chest, you duck behind a parked car and peek out. Has he seen you? You don’t have a mask, just your hoodie. He’s wearing a crude ski mask– covered except for his eyes and mouth. How unprofessional.

He continues walking, his body language relaxed. How can he be relaxed right now? You move from behind the car to the middle of the sidewalk, hiding in plain sight. You jam your hands in your pockets, letting your hair fall in front of your face as adopt a drunken stumble. If you can’t run, hide. You sense your target turn around and spare you a glance. All he’ll see, though, is intoxicated, unthreatening idiot. Your opponent ignores you and keeps walking, his left hand going up to clutch at his side. Bingo. 

You continue trailing him, hanging back just far enough to not arouse his suspicion. Once he gets to Hitman’s estate, and to that electrified fence that he can somehow scale, you’re going to lose him. 

You need another advantage. 

You secret the knife from the sheath on your hip, subtly increasing your pace until you’re about twenty feet away from your target– about the farthest you’ll trust yourself to throw a knife accurately. He’s close, so close…

You whip your arm around and send the knife sailing. It flies through the air, headed right for his midsection, when suddenly… what?

Your target’s arm reaches out almost in slow motion and grabs your dagger by the handle, stopping its flight mere inches from his flesh.

“I haven’t forgotten your other present,” he growls as you close in on him, his voice inhuman. “Leave now. You’re not going to win this fight.”

This bitch…

In your mind, you hear every girlie, every sweetheart, every condescending chuckle. You see the disrespect in a thousand eyes, the endless doors closed in your face. And you snap.

Your body seems to melt into the shadows— you’re made of fire, of darkness. Energy courses through your veins, and you suppress the urge to laugh. It’s been a while since you’ve gone all-out. If you can’t hide, fight.

The acrobat cocks his head. “You’re not running?”

In lieu of a response, you make a show of withdrawing your handgun. On seeing the weapon, the acrobat flashes his own gun, leveling the barrel at you.

What he doesn’t know, you think, running your other hand over the military-grade smoke grenade in your pocket, might hurt him.

The acrobat’s arm twitches, the kind of twitch that’s been burned into your memory. You see the path of the bullet before he pulls the trigger; you drop to the floor, his bullet missing your head by inches. In the same movement, you pull the pin on the grenade and launch it at him. With a loud hiss, thick plumes of smoke begin to pour from the capsule. You hear the acrobat curse. His mask proves to be his downfall: he’s blinded and coughing, although his covered nose means he can still breathe. You don’t have a mask with you, but you do have excellent hearing— and so you drop your gun and charge towards him, your eyes shut tight. 

Time seems to slow down. The smoke burns your lungs even though you’re holding your breath, but all you can focus on is your opponent’s heavy footsteps, unsteady and pained. His earlier wound must still be bothering him, which is probably why he’s still on the ground. With his skill set, you’d have scaled the fence and been gone by now. 

Wait. The fence. No matter his skills, the guy isn’t immune to electricity. And you’re right in front of Hitman’s estate.

Your lungs protest— you’ve been holding your breath too long. You need to end this quickly, while you still have the advantage of your smoke cover. Your ears pick up a tiny shift in weight in front of you— he’s a smart assassin, he managed to stop coughing. But it’s not enough to save him, not when you’re in your element. You circle around silently until he’s in between you and the fence.

“Come on, man,” your opponent speaks suddenly, his voice distorted. A voice mod? “We can spar later, I got shit to do.”

Fucking asshole. You barrel forward, lowering your shoulder and catching him right in the gut. You hear a metallic skitter; your attack forced him to drop his gun. He’s unarmed. 

“Oof!” The acrobat grunts in pain, stumbling backwards even as his gloved hands snake forward to wrap around your throat. Shit. He starts squeezing, and you gasp for air, your tortured lungs protesting further abuse. He’s almost right up against the fence– you just need him to take one...more...step. You can hear his labored breathing right in front of you. He must still be blinded, which means you can take him by surprise. Perfect. 

You plant your hands on his shoulders and, instead of pushing him away like he surely expects, you pull him close and press your lips to his, kissing him with all the desperation of a girl with her life on the line. The move is a double-edged sword: if you can’t distract your target sufficiently, you’re close enough to be KO’d. But if you do your job well… it’s practically a given win. Your opponent’s grip on your throat loosens and you feel him relax into the kiss– and return it with fervor, biting lightly on your lower lip. Well, he’s certainly distracted. You use the opportunity to shove him backwards, and with his guard down, he takes that last crucial step to steady himself.

ZZZAP!

You wince at the crackle of electricity. It’s not enough to kill, but that’s gonna hurt like a motherfucker. He collapses without another sound, just as the smoke begins to dissipate.

“Did you hear that?” You hear a shout from inside the estate.

“Someone set off the fence!”

“Well, go check!”

Oh, Christ. You can’t leave your opponent there; his injuries will prove that someone else was with him, they’ll check the footage before AD can edit it. You bend down– grabbing your discarded gun while you’re at it– and pick your opponent up in a fireman’s carry, lugging the dead weight several buildings down and into a back alley. By the time you get there and set him down, you can hear him groan. He’ll be coming to soon. You touch your earpiece to contact AD.

“AD? You awake?” You rasp, your throat still hurting.

AD sounds groggy. “Good morning to you too. Yeah, I’m here.”

“I caught our acrobat.”

“No shit! Is he dead?”

You peer at the groaning, half-conscious figure. “Almost.”

“You’ve got the go-ahead to neutralize him. I’d recommend doing it fast, though.”

“Yeah, I will.” You check the clock: 3:44. This guy’s taken up way too much of your time. Glancing down at your fallen opponent, you see his hand begin to twitch. Let’s see what kind of amateur assassin almost took my kill. You sit on your heels in front of him and reach out, pulling off the ski mask with ease.

“Oh…shit.”

“Y/n?”

“Uh…” sitting in front of you, a trail of scarlet blood dripping down his chin, is Jeon Jungkook. “AD, I’ll call you back.”

“Wait, what’s going-” Click.

You rub your eyes miserably, wishing that the smoke was still blinding you. Jeon Jungkook. Agent Jeon. The dork from work. An assassin?

Then that means… you tug up his shirt, exposing sculpted abs that you wish you didn’t notice along with thick bandages wrapped around his midsection. You can see dark blood seeping through on Jungkook’s left side– where you’d shot him last week, where he said he’d fallen asleep on a dog toy. And like an idiot, like a sentimental amateur, you believed him. You believed that he actually liked you, actually cared. But he’s a liar, a monster like you. The realization that it was all an act hurts more than your bruised throat ever could.

“Ngh…” your heart seems to drop into your stomach. The voice mod must’ve been in his mask, because now you can recognize Jungkook’s groan as the one you’d heard so often during dull shifts. “Hey… hands off the goods.” He swipes weakly at your arm and you pull away, letting his shirt fall back down over the wound that you caused.

Half of you wants to laugh, and the other half wants to… what, cry? Why did it have to be him? 

You pull back your hood and tuck your hair behind your ear. “You’re such a fucking idiot, you know that?”

At last, Jungkook’s eyes snap open and he stares straight at you, his face betraying a mix of horror and fury. “Soo-Jin?”

He’s going to die anyways. You might as well tell him the truth. “Actually, my name is y/n.”

“No.” Jungkook gapes, seemingly at a loss for words. “No. Dammit. Fuck! Fucking anyone but you!” He tries to get up, but he doesn’t get very far before he falls back and slumps over, his expression heartbreaking. For once, you can do nothing but watch him. “I knew it was one of the guards,” Jungkook continues, clutching at his wound. “Namjoon has good aim. Jimin, he’s fast. I didn’t want to hurt you, Soo-Jin–” his voice breaks. “Or, I guess, y/n.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you either,” you admit, the gun in your hip holster feeling heavier by the minute. “But I had to do my job.”

“Wait a second…” Jungkook hesitates. “Y/n? As in y/n l/n, the master assassin? Sixty-two confirmed kills? You’re that y/n?”

“You’ve heard of me?”

Jungkook nods as much as his weakened state will allow. “Everyone in the business has. Your aim is unmatched. They say the only time y/n misses a killshot is when she’s trying to miss– oh.” Jungkook smiles sadly. “I’m just postponing the inevitable, huh?

You nod, smoothly withdrawing your gun and pointing it at his head. Sure, midsection is more of a surefire hit, but a headshot will end it quickly– and for the first time in a long, long time, you realize that you care about his suffering. 

Jungkook looks up at you, his eyes revealing a softness you can’t understand.

“Y-you’re not scared?” You ask. Why isn’t he trying to escape? If you can’t win, run. It’s the assassin’s motto. But… he’s not running?

Jungkook shrugs, groaning in pain. “I lost. You won. We had the same target, so killing me is your right. Besides, if it had to be anyone…” Jungkook winks. “Might as well be you. Even if you are a dirty liar.”

You draw yourself up, affronted. “Excuse me?”

He laughs and then coughs. “Miss I don’t kiss my victims went and pulled that? Sure, Jan.”

You suppress a giggle. “You’re postponing again. I have to get back to Hitman.”

“Right, sorr-” BANG!

You pull the trigger, the gun so familiar in your hand that it’s like an extension of yourself. And your aim, as always, is perfect.

Jungkook is shaking. He looks up at the black mark where the bullet struck the wall, not half an inch above his head. “Y-y-you missed.”

“I’m y/n l/n,” you reply, holstering your gun. “I never miss.”

“Wait, so you saved–”

“Someone’s gotta fix this bandage, shit,” you interrupt, kneeling down and examining his wound, which has continued slowly bleeding through its dressings. “Goddamn amateurs, I swear, ruining the trade–”

Suddenly, Jungkook reaches out and cups your cheek.

“W-what are you doing?” You squeak, embarrassed. He’s so close you can feel his body heat, so close it feels like you’re the one who’s disarmed.

“Making sure you won't regret sparing me,” Jungkook mutters in response before capturing your lips with his own. You didn’t notice the first time, but he tastes like cherries. 

You know you should pull away, a good assassin never lets down her guard, but– “Fuck you,” you mumble against his lips, linking your hands behind his neck. Heat courses through your body as you kiss him back. Maybe, for once... you can just relax. You feel a bit of something hard pass from his mouth to yours. A hard candy? Who cares, you’re kissing him and kissing him and you really like kissing him, fuck.

Eventually Jungkook pulls away, a bright smile on his face. “Look at me, the amateur that tamed the expert.”

“You didn’t tame shit,” you reply, getting up. For a second your vision swims before you. Damned iron deficiency. Checking the time, you start. “I gotta get going.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Jungkook responds, standing up. What? His injuries should have kept him down.

“I’ve still got a target to off, hon.” You salute him, your head aching. You wish you could spend more time with him, but it’s not your path. You’ve got a job to do.

“I said,” Jungkook replies, walking forward. “You’re not going anywhere.” His gait isn’t casual anymore, it’s threatening, and all your instincts are screaming danger.

“Or what? Do the math. I’m armed, you’re not. You can’t do anything.”

Jungkook smiles coldly. His eyes– they’re dark, emotionless. The kind of eyes you see in the mirror everyday. The eyes of a killer. “Oh, but I can. And I did.”

“W-what?” Your heart feels weak, and your breathing becomes labored. Your chest is unnaturally tight. “What did you do to me?”

“All the best spies kept cyanide pills in their mouths,” Jungkook replies with a shrug as you fall to your knees, too dizzy to stand. The world is spinning, tilted, and your chest feels like it’s burning. Jungkook leans down, his tone malicious. “And I’m one of the best. After all, I killed y/n l/n, didn’t I?”

Cyanide. Poison. How can you fight against poison?

Jungkook is still talking. “If you can’t win, run, right? Guess what, girlie? Guess why I didn’t run?”

You can’t breathe, it feels like you’re drowning, you lost.

“I didn’t run because I could win. And I’ll win again, once Hitman is out of the picture. You’re not the only one with money on the line. Though I have to say, it’s really a shame.” He flicks your forehead, but you can barely feel anything anymore. “You were cute. Oh well, any last words?”

This is it. The end of y/n l/n, master assassin. Your eyes flutter closed– he won. “Fuck you.”

[themfchase]

blindfold (6)

Jeon Jungkook x reader‒ blindfold. (m)

✎  [6+k words]

genre: smut, NSFW, college!au

warnings: light smut, dirty talk, angst

Strange things happen all the time, just like what you’re being offered by a strange tall man in a quiet coffee shop near campus. Strangers that you can’t see and only hear, and a strange boy that barely speaks but seems to be everywhere aren’t that common, on the other hand. But for some reason... You’re really keen on strange things. u. A/N: So... The end had come. First, I wanted to apologize to everyone for the very long delay, but in the end here it is. And I really hope you’ve all enjoyed blindfold just as much as I have. It’s been a wild ride for me while writing this HHAHAHAHA But I’m really glad I finished it. I’m still not satisfied with it, not going to lie, but, I guess no one is ever going to be satisfied with the ending to one of their stories. Thank you all so much for the endless support you all have given me, I couldn’t have done it without you guys and the immense love you guys had for this little series. As always, reblog, like and don’t refrain from sending me messages. Thank you so much for following blindfold so far and I’ll see you all in the next series. Love and Kisses, May. (btw, if you see some typos and errors, I’ll fix them soon.)

part 1. part 2. part 3. part 4. part 5. masterlist.

"Jungkook... Look at me." Your breath was loud and fast, your heart beating as if it could leap from your chest, you felt sick, you felt weak, you were scared... So, so scared. With the blindfold in your hands you watched as his shoulders lifted and fell, his back to you, both hands on the wooden table in front of him, he was just as you were. Scared. A few hours earlier. Sleeping felt impossible. There were oh so many things that a while back seemed impossible, but somehow, some crazy way, shit just started to become that... Possible. If you were being honest with yourself, there was this part of you, this... Safe part of you that wanted to just be that. Safe. Turn your back on this whole idea and go back to your normal life. But after almost the whole night reminiscing in memories, the faint feeling of being touched by him, to hear his voice again to honestly, see him, you felt sure that this is what you had to do. Now, you hadn't really thought out just how things would go, confronting him was the only thing you were sure of. You didn't know how you were going to do so, what you would say. Yet again you found yourself without a plan, something you were not fond of. You still had a few hours before the sun came up, so getting out of bed and sitting in front of your computer you did what you did best. You planned everything. And the first step to your plan was making sure there were no misunderstandings. You were already sure that Jungkook was the Stranger, but you needed proof. You stood outside the Frat House and watched as the boys came out one by one. In your red summer dress and wearing very, and I mean very obvious sunglasses you waited until Jungkook came out, but that never happened. When you spotted Namjoon, you quickly made your way to him. "Joon!" You called. His head spun around at the familiar voice calling out his name in the almost peak of the morning. "Y/N, what are you...?" He started speaking. "Good morning, sorry, this is unexpected, I just wanted to speak to you real quick." You said as you watched the boy's bloated sleep-deprived face twist in confusion. "Uhm, sure... What's up?" "Is Jungkook still asleep?" You asked. "Oh... I'm pretty sure he didn't come back to the house last night, didn't see any of his bodyguards and well, I was awake almost all night." He said and you sighed. You sighed, you just needed to get something that could prove he was the Stranger. "Listen... Is there any chance... And look, this is gonna sound weird, but I just want to... Uhm, I want to surprise Jungkook and I really need to get into his room, but I know he has like a hundred locks and I was wondering since you're the house president if you know the code?" You lied. Namjoon seemed a little bit suspicious at first, but he smiled, a sweet smile that made you confused. "You two really hit it off, huh? I'm glad, honestly, the kid needs to let out some steam." He said. You grinned, a chuckle leaving you. Little did he know just how much steam Jungkook let out on a weekly basis. Namjoon was certain to give you the code and soon, you were on your way into the frat house. As you made your way up the stairs you momentarily stood in front of Jungkook's room. There was a nervousness that you just couldn't contain inside of you. What if he was there? How would you confront him like that? He could just lie to you, say that you are delusional. You took a deep breath, put in the code and the door unlocked. As you slowly made your way in, it was empty, just the faint light from the rising sun peeking from his window. His room was... Him. It was neat and minimalist, but as you looked around you felt a sense of loneliness in everything, in the way his pencils were organized and the way he didn't have any pictures or posters... It was just as if the person who slept there would leave at any given second. And maybe... Just maybe that was your biggest fear in confronting Jungkook, having him leave and never see him again. As you looked around you sighed again, you needed to find something, you decided to open his desk drawers. There you found yourself gasping as not one but several sketches were organized inside. They weren't ordinary sketches, they were detailed drawings of you... You in the coffee shop reading a book. You in class bitting down on your pencil, and of course, there were the lewd ones. You put your hand over your mouth, cheeks heating up as you saw the detailed lines of you tied up completely bare in the hotel bed. The blindfold on, but on the same sheet, right beside that, were your eyes. Several different sketches of your eyes looking down, or looking straight to you, or... To him. You felt slightly overwhelmed, this was how Jungkook saw you, he saw you in a way that you never could have imagined. He saw you as something beautiful, something precious and you could feel that by the way he drew you. You left the sketches in the drawer and further looked for something else and soon enough you found it. The blindfold. Not just any blindfold, this was the first one, from the first day. It gave you a feeling of nostalgia, melancholy, the idea of all that just becoming a memory. You weren't in love with just the stranger, you were in love with the quiet boy, the one that shoved his hands in his pockets and that asked you invasive question, you were in love with him. And the two together made things even stronger. The second step to your plan was making sure that if things went wrong, he wouldn't be alone, that he wouldn't freak out, so you took out your phone as you made your way out of the frat house and called. "Miss Y/L/N?" The voice said on the other line. "Listen, I need to speak to you, but it has to be a secret, if you tell him, I'm going to leave and never come back do you understand me?" You threatened. "Yes." He said after a while. "Good, meet me at the cafe in twenty minutes, if he's with you, make something up." And you hung up. This part of the plan was the part you were most worried about. You knew Jungkook was a troubled guy, that he has severe anxieties and the last thing you wanted was to trigger him in any way possible. So as you waited in the cafe you fidgeted with the blindfold in your hands, looking down at the wood. Not long after, he came in and slowly made his way to the table. "Miss, Y/L/N." He said in a calm voice. You looked up to see the same man that had stopped you a while back to give you the proposition. "Call me Y/N, please, there is something serious I need to discuss with you." You said in a firm tone. "Fine, Y/N." He sighed, taking off his glasses and placing them into his pocket. "What is this about?" "Listen, Mister... Wait, what's your name." You asked. "Jin." He answered simply. "Ok, listen, Jin, I know Jungkook is your client and that you must have confidentiality terms with him and all, but... I found out, ok?" You started and watched as he adjusted himself in the chair. "I... I don't know who you're talking about, Y/N." He said. "Cut the bullshit, Jin, I'm not here to threaten him, I'm here to make sure that he's going to be ok." You said and you saw him swallow. You looked down, now fidgeting with the blindfold. "Look, you told me he was a good kid and I know he is, I feel it... I feel it so much that all I want is to be with him, but I can't do that while he's lying to me." You admitted in a defeated voice. "He's not lying to you-' Jin started to say in an outraged voice. "Fine, omitting. Whatever." You shrugged, rolling your eyes. "I'm going to confront him today." It came out less secure than you wish it had. "And I don't know how that's going to go... I don't know if he's going to want to leave and never look back, if he's going to freak out, all I'm asking of you is that you make sure he's ok, that he's safe and that he's taken care of in case that happens." Jin was silent for a few moments, looking you in the eyes while he assessed the information. Jin seemed like a good guy to you, you could see that he really cared about Jungkook and that his concern was real, not just professional. He sighed and looked down at the table. "Ok." He said simply and you felt the air you were holding leave you. "Ok." You mimicked him, a faint relief in your voice. "Don't tell him I know, don't tell him I'm going to confront him, all I want is to do this the right way, all I want is honesty, if he's honest with me, I'll be all his." You didn't know to whom exactly you were saying that, if it was to Jin or to yourself, but either way, it was the truth, you breathed out, the air coming out a little shaky. "He... He really liked you." You heard Jin's voice and your eyes traveled up, looking him in the eyes again. He seemed less formal than before, a little more relaxed, but always with that worry in his eyes.  "Jungkook isn't only my boss he's my friend and all I want for him is to have a normal life with friends and a normal relationship." He finished in a low voice. You bit on your lower lip nodding in understanding, but soon, looking down at the blindfold again. "Why hasn't he told me yet?" You asked. Jin pursed his lips, a bitter chuckle leaving him. "He's scared, scared you'll think he's a freak that he's... A pervert, I don't know." He admitted trying himself to understand the boy's reasons. "Jin, I agreed to let him do things to me for money, what does that say of me?" You asked, feeling your cheeks a little red with admitting the fact. Jin shrugged, hands coming to cross in front of his chest. "I just hope this works, I thought that telling him to ask you on a date was going to fix it." He shook his head as if he couldn't understand why things went wrong. "Wait, that was you?" You frowned. Jin looked up at you, a side smile on his face. "Yeah, I've been telling him to ask you out for months." He chuckled. Your eyes bulged slightly, months? You looked back down at the table. "I'm in love with him." You said it out loud and looked at Jin again. The smile on him was genuine. As if he was looking at something endearing to him, you felt your cheeks hot. You both were cut off by the sound of Jun's phone, he looked at it for a moment and looked at you. "Is it him?" "Yeah... I should go." You pursed your lips and nodded. After you said your goodbyes, you felt your stomach turn. You were nervous, what if in the end, maybe Jungkook didn't have feelings for you, he wanted to keep things separate? But Jin had said he really liked you. You shook your head getting rid of bad thoughts and made your way back to your apartment. As the day went by, you nervously waited for the clock to hit seven. Witch each hour that went by you rehearsed everything in your head. Malia would peek through the door and sigh, she was almost just as anxious as you were. After all, she knew how much you liked him. You distracted yourself by taking a shower when the clock hit six and soon enough, it was seven. You waited by your window your stomach felt as if it was turning inside of you. When you saw the car park outside you made your way to the living room and Malie was standing there, waiting with a hopeful look on her face. "Ok weirdo, good luck." She said while she gave you a quick hug. You nodded and looked at her. "Before I go... There is something I need to say to you." You had to say something, after all, if things went bad with Jungkook, maybe at least one thing could go right. Malia had a confused look on her face but nodded. "Namjoon really, really likes you... I know you're not the type to date and all, but he's an amazing guy and he deserves good things, so... Either step up and be with him or stop breaking his heart." You said with a firm tone to your voice. You knew Malia wasn't a bad person, but she was terrified of commitment, so maybe she just needed a push. Malia swallowed and bit her lower lip, but nodded. You smiled at her and made your way out of the apartment, once again getting in the car and making your way to the hotel. You clutched your phone all the way to the hotel and looked at the driver who seemed just as impassive as ever. Just as you were the first time you had come to the hotel, you were shaking and nervous. You walked slowly into the lobby, this time you had a feeling you were being watched, but you didn't dare look around as you made your way to the receptionist. She looked up at you and she smiled when she recognized you, you smiled back, this time a little more secure than when you first came. When she gave you the key, you clutched it in your hand, making your way to the elevators. AS you got in it all started to feel a little worse, the fear of Jungkook leaving, the fear of him having a breakdown. You breathed in and out slowly, trying to control your heartbeat. When the doors opened you took in the hallway, you haven't ever noticed the way the warm light painted the walls and how the carpet was littered with Roman designs. You always knew this was a five-star hotel, but maybe just now you started to notice the small things and feel nostalgic about them. When you stopped in front of the room you waited a few seconds before you put in the card key and stepped in. Candles. Everywhere. Just like the first time, the smell was so good and relaxing that you closed your eyes and breathed them in. You never got the chance to appreciate how much effort he put in to make sure you were comfortable and now, if things didn't go well, you wanted to take it all in. You walked into the bathroom and saw the body wash a feeling of fondness taking over you, honestly, ever since you and Yoongi had broken up, you hated that smell, but Jungkook made you like it again. You looked around, the hairdryer, the towels, you gently caressed the soft fabric before walking back into the room and sitting on the bed, you caressed the fabric underneath you and looked around. You hoped that things would go well, you wanted them to go well not because of this room, but because of what it represented. It represented you feeling free for one. Being cared for (Somehow). Being able to know yourself and to meet him. You saw the blindfold on the bed and decided to put it on top of the wooden table right across from the bed but instead, taking out the first one, the one you took from his room and looking at it for a while, they were different colors, the one you put on the table was a light graffiti color and it was a plain cotton while the one in your hand was almost pitch black, but it shined with red and it was velvet. You decided to slide that one on instead and wait. It took him longer this time. Maybe it was because you didn't do your routine, maybe it was because you had already waited all day. There was a thought at the back of your head, maybe Jin had told him, maybe he wasn't coming. You tried to calm your heartbeat and your breathing, but you were more nervous than you have ever been. More than the first time you had come here, more than when he called you, or when he took you out and your senses where heightened by the sight deprivation. Your foot was bouncing nervously, you shook your head, maybe you should leave, and let things go. No. No, you couldn't, you had to stay, you wanted Jungkook, now you just needed to make sure he wanted you too. You heard a noise at the door and you held your breath. Click. The door unlocked. And then his shoes on the floor. Tap. Tap. Tap. Soon, you could smell his cologne in the air and you couldn't help but feel a series of feeling at once. Right in front of you was Jungkook. The same boy that had tutored you, that had stood up for you, that had taken you out. The same boy with that shy smile you were sure not so many people had the chance to see. The same one that... That had made you feel things you never thought you could feel, make your body do things you didn't know it was capable of. You let the air out, swallowing hard as you felt the dizziness from his smell. You felt multiple things. Nervous. Scared. Turned on. It was a natural body reacting to the whole situation. "Hello, sweetheart." It made all the hairs on your body stand up. His voice was soft, so much softer than usual. There was a tenderness to it as if he was longing to see you. You could feel it. "Hello, Sir." You answered in almost the same matter. Voice soft and tender. "I see you're still dressed." He pointed out, amusement in his voice. "Yes..." You said, slowly getting up and standing. "I'm here to talk." You said while you adjusted the blindfold on your face. He was silent for a while, maybe he noticed the blindfold, maybe he didn't. He was quiet until... "Hm..." And you gulped, his voice was the one most powerful thing. The thing that made your legs shake, your heart go wild and your body want to bend to his every will. You cursed yourself mentally for being aroused in a moment like this. "I-I'm here to tell you something." You said already feeling your courage crumble. Voice shaky. "Go on." He said simply and you took in a deep breath. His voice sounded different like there was curiosity in them, but he was insecure. "I... I met someone." You started, just like you had planned. "I met someone that... I am completely in love with." You felt a lump in your throat and heard him shift. "He's... Smart and he's funny and he's so, so very handsome. But, these are the least of things that I love about him..." You could feel tears accumulate in your closed eyes. You dropped your head. "I love that he understands me... And that he sees through me. I love how he stood up for me just because he cares about me, even if he has never told me that before. I love how he's quiet and how comfortable we both can be in silence. I love so many things about him..." You felt the lump in your throat grow bigger, you breathed in. "I love that he sees me in a way that all my insecurities and traumas make me blind to, but somehow he does." You heard him shift again. "I'm in love with him. And all I want is to be with him, all I want is for him to be able to look me in the eyes and tell me he feels the same way, but he can't." You felt tears stain the blindfold, voice cracked. "Why can't he?" His voice was strained, low, weak. As if he had already understood as if he noticed that you were talking about him and that you knew he was right in front of you. "Because... Jungkook. Because he's scared." And you lifted your hands to the blindfold slowly. "No, Y/N, don't..." He said before you pulled it off voice just a whisper, but you didn't stop, you pulled it off and you were met with the light of the room again. You couldn't catch a glimpse of him before he turned around, he was fast. Both hands on the wooden table, he was gripping it tightly looking straight at the other blindfold in front of him, you could tell his breathing was off, that he was trying to control it. You feared he could have a breakdown so you decided to speak. "And I'm scared too, I'm scared of feeling these things for you and not knowing if you'll ever... Feel the same way about me." You continued saying, now it was done, what would happen from this moment on would decide everything. "P-please, please put it back on." You heard him beg. And you furrowed your eyebrows. "No, Jungkook... I won't put it back on." You argued. "You've looked me in the eyes so many times... You told me that you felt comfortable around me." You breathed in. I'm sorry it's so hard for you, I'd switch places with you if I could, but I can't keep doing this, living like this." You felt a dull ache in your chest as you watched his shaking figure. "Now either look me in the eyes and tell me you want me too or tell me you don't." He was silent, taking the whole thing in, now that he was found out there was nowhere left to run, he could have you or he could lose you forever. "You know I want you." He said shaking his head, voice so low it was almost a whisper. You pursed your lips, swallowing. "Then tell me." You asked with a weak voice. "Look at me and tell me, please." You begged. Your heart was beating violently in your chest, it felt as if the air in the room wasn't enough to breathe. He went silent, a silence that this time felt terrible, felt terrifying. "Jungkook... Look at me." Your breath was loud and fast, your heart beating as if it could leap from your chest, you felt sick, you felt weak, you were scared... So, so scared. With the blindfold in your hands you watched as his shoulders lifted and fell, his back to you, both hands on the wooden table in front of him, he was just as you were. Scared. Just as Jin had said earlier. Slowly he leaned back from the table, you felt as the tears streamed down your cheeks, all you wanted was him to tell you. Slowly he turned around, eyes meeting yours as you could see just how scared he was. It made you want to cry harder. He stood in front of you, eyes slightly red, dark circles under them. He looked fragile, unprotected, vulnerable. You wanted to run to him and kiss him, hold him. "You're so stupid." You cursed him as you brought both hands to your face and whipped away your tears. "I'm so stupidly in love with you, with both sides of you and you... Why did you have to hide this from me?" You couldn't control your rambling, you just felt as you cried and whined at him, he looked ashamed and you shook your head, controlling yourself and finally looking at him, he looked back, no sign of looking away. "I-I love you, Jungkook." Your voice came out in a sincere whisper. "Fuck" He cursed out and right then, you thought he was going to say he didn't feel the same so you looked down. "I love you too."  You looked up at him and he took a step forward closing the gap between the two of you quickly and attaching his lips to yours. You gasped as he took your face in his hands, as his body crashed into yours. He kissed you tenderly, passionately, he kissed you as if you were the most precious thing on this earth and you kissed him back, hands coming to wrap around his neck. This time you allowed your heart to beat violently in your chest, you allowed your stomach to turn and twist inside of you because this time, this time you felt like you had a good reason. Jungkook separated his mouth from yours only to look at you for a while taking in all your features, make sure this was real with his swollen lips and irregular breathing. "I'm sorry., I missed you so much." Jungkook started saying and you shook your head, lips coming to his again to shut him up. You kissed him deeply hands coming to intertwine in his hair, when you licked his lower lip he opened his mouth, allowing you to deepened the kiss even more, and with the feeling of your tongue Jungkook let out a very low and short groan that sent a wave through your body. Soon, you two fell on the bed, teeth clashing into the now desperate and needy kiss. Is was like he didn't want to let you go, too scared of losing you again and you were eager to hang on, so eager that when your dress went over your head, you attached your lips to his without even breathing and he took off his shirt while gently and sweetly kissing down your neck. It was different this time, it wasn't lust... No, it was a lot more. Slowly you two made your way up the bed, kissing each other tenderly, soft whimpers leaving your lips when he'd roam his hand around your body. This rough fingers that worked so delicately on you, you learned that you were highly addicted to it. Jungkook broke the kiss to look at you again and when he saw your swollen lips, flushed cheeks and a caring look in your eyes he was overwhelmed by just how stupid he was before, shaking his head. "Fuck, I'm so sorry, I'm so, so, sorry, I shouldn't..." He started. And you shook your head again, hands coming to caress his face. "It's ok, we're ok." You said in a soft voice. "I'm yours." And you saw the shine in his eyes when you said it. He was quiet for a few seconds and a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "You're mine..." He whispered back, lips coming to caress yours gently as he slowly rid you of your underwear, you arched your body, helping him. You knew what was going to happen, it was something you've wanted for a long time, ever since you first got into this room and you remembered what Jungkook had said about intimacy and suddenly you understood a lot. You wanted nothing more than to be intimate with Jungkook, but on another level, not just physically, you wanted to be able to hold his hand for everyone to see, kiss him in the stupid supermarket while you both chose cheap bland hoodies. You wanted Jungkook and you were going to give him all of you in return. Jungkook gently kissed down your neck, soft pecks, and love bites, the air was filled with the sound of your soft whimpers and his fingers caressed every inch of your body as he made his way down, slowly he hovered over your center, lips coming gently to kiss at your pubic mound. When he licked up your core you arched your back, eyes shutting and a moan leaving your lips. It was one thing to feel him, but to watch him? It was another thing completely, you felt just how sensitive watching Jungkook eat you out made you, just how fast it was making you approach your orgasm while he gently sucked on your clit, savoring your taste just like he probably did the other times only this time, he was doing it for his own pleasure as well. "J-Jungkook." You called his name in a whispered moan and his eyes flickered up to you, dark and blown out, they were divine. "I-I don't want to c-cum so f-fast, please." You begged in a weak voice. Jungkook planted small kisses to your core before pulling away and coming up to your lips again where he let you taste yourself on his tongue. There was a proud smile on his lips, maybe because he had you now, or maybe, just maybe because he knew he could make you cum with a snap of his fingers. "Can you taste how sweet you are?" He questioned with a low hint of hunger to his voice. You nodded, lips coming up to his as he gently closed his eyes and shoved his own pants down and kicked them to the floor, his kisses gently went to your jaw and then your neck, he was being rougher now, already taken over by lust and the desire to finally be with you the way you wanted. When you felt his erection sprung free you looked down, mouth slightly watering and core clenching over nothing. You wanted nothing more than to taste him too, to make him feel good and he seemed to notice your eagerness. "Don't worry, sweetheart, we'll have all the time in the world for that, right now, I just really want to fuck you the way I should have a long time ago." He said in a low husky voice that had you whimpering. Jungkook slowly aligned himself with your entrance, hands coming up to wrap with yours as his forehead rested on your own. "Hey, look at me." He asked as you looked down where your bodies would soon connect. You flickered your eyes to him, already squirming as you felt the tip already breach you slightly. "I want to look you in the eyes while I fuck you, I want you to see just what you do to me, just how crazy you drive me, just how much I want you, love you, do you understand?" He gently inched himself in a little more, your mouth opened and a moan left it, your walls were already clenching around his tip and you could feel your wetness leak from you. "Answer me, sweetheart." He demanded in a stern, yet velvet voice. "Y-yes, Sir, yes, I-I understand." You stuttered while you tried to answer him. "No... Not Sir, my name, say my name." He requested and you could barely think straight. "Yes, Jungkook, y-yes, yes." You whispered. "Such a good girl for me." He cooed and you clenched even harder. When Jungkook breached your walls you couldn't hold back the moan that ripped through your throat, you squeezed his hands tight, your walls clenching violently around him. You felt so full, so good, having Jungkook inside of you was even better than you had imagined. "F-fuck, don't squeeze so tight." His voice was strained in pleasure, face contorted in it too. His breathing shallow and you felt him twitch. "So fucking tight, what a delicious fucking cunt." He whispered to himself and the dirty manner in which he spoke made you clench even harder. "Jungkook..." You whined his name and he stared straight into your lust drowning eyes. "P-please move, p-please." You begged.   "Don't worry baby, I'll give you what you want." He said trying to control his own voice. When he pulled out and ground back into you, another moan ripped out of you, he was filling you out perfectly, it was as if your bodies were made for each other. You heard the groan coming from his lips, his eyes still staring into your own, but now they were only slits, hazy eyes while he gently started a grinding pace in and out of you. He let go of one of your hands and came to cup your face, lips crashing into yours. This was different, it was intimate, it was slow and sensual, it was love and lust. He separated your mouth's yet again to whisper. "You're so beautiful." He said and you bit your lower lip, cheeks flushed with pleasure and the way he called you beautiful. "I love you." You whispered back. It didn't take long for Jungkook's grinding to become rougher, his cock hitting your sweet spot again and again while his body rubbed and grinded into you. Soon, it was gasp's and moans and whimpers all around the room, your body sweating and sensitive, it didn't take long for you to feel the familiar trace of your orgasm approaching you and when you clenched hard and opened your mouth, Jungkook's cock twitched. "Close already, baby?" He asked and you didn't answer, instead, you let the feeling of it slowly creep onto you. "That's it, sweetheart, cum all over my cock, let me watch you cumming for me you always look so beautiful when you cum." He instructed. And soon you were squirming and moaning and shaking under Jungkook, clenching violently around his length eyes focused on his while he had a tight grip on your chin.   "Look at me while you cum." He said. "Jesus fuck, you're so beautiful I might cum just by watching you." As he rode out your orgasm he slowed down, lips coming to your to kiss you gently while he slowly moved his hips in and out of you, so slowly it was almost painful. You finally closed your eyes. Feeling his body move on top of yours it was overwhelming, it was everything you ever wanted. You heard him groan and his pace slowly got faster, he was close and you wanted nothing more than to give him the pleasure he had given you up until now, slowly, you started moving your hips to meed his, grinding up onto him. "Oh, God..." He said in a shaky strained voice. "You feel so-so good." He praised. Jungkook's grip on your hand tightened and soon, his hips halted deep inside of you and you felt him coat your insides with his release, a low and sensual groan leaving him as his face read nothing but pure pleasure and bliss. It was beautiful, it was heavingly, watching Jungkook feel good because of you made you feel proud and affectionate, you lifted your head, lips coming to gently kiss him and he kissed you back, breathe irregular on your lips. When you both calmed down, Jungkook pulled out gently, laying beside you and closing his eyes. You had a stupid smile on your face and you felt tired, he turned his head to you and you did the same, looking at him. There it was, the look that you so desperately wanted to see, the look that said: "I love you." Gently, Jungkook took your hand, locking his fingers between yours and bringing it up to his lips, leaving a sweet kiss on them. "When did you notice?" He asked after you two were silent for a while, he looked at your fingers, playing with them. "Sweetheart." You said simply with a smile on your lips. Jungkook looked up at you. "You called me sweetheart and it's something only... The Stranger called me." You said. "The Stranger? Is that what you called me?" He asked and you nodded feeling slightly embarrassed. "I should have known, I always called you that and I guess it came out naturally, but I'm dense." He admitted with a chuckle. "Yeah, well, so am I, I thought I was in love with two people but it was actually just one." You said and Jungkook smiled at you. "You're in love with me." He said as if it was something he still needed to wrap his head around. You nodded. "Yeah, and I have been for a while now... Jin told me that he told you to ask me out months ago." You said without thinking. Jungkook's eyes slightly bulged and you sat up. "Hey, he didn't know, I asked to meet him and kind of... Threatened him so he had to go. And I already knew so, he was just trying to help." Jungkook shook his head and chuckled. "I'll deal with him later." He said and you glared at him making him laugh. "So... Months ago?" You asked and he looked at you again in silence before he sat up and pressed his lips gently against yours. You closed your eyes, kissing him back and he pulled away. "I love you." He said and you felt your cheeks blush. "I love you too... But, I'm not letting you off the hook, tell me." You asked and he smiled, looking you in the eyes with no fear, no insecurities, just love, and comfort... Love and intimacy. "The first time I saw you..." The end.

[yoongisbars]

Samusil | myg | P R O L O G U E

summary: It was always known that you were the family disappointment. So naturally, you fled. With a looming school debt, alcoholic tendencies, and no luck whatsoever in keeping a job for more than a month, you were at your wits end until you finally cave into working at Bang-Lenzo. You’ve only ever heard horrors of the place and its manager. But maybe, just maybe, that office would become your safe haven.

pairing: myg x reader genre: strangers to lovers au | office!yoongi au | future angst? fluff?  word count: 7.5k tw: alcohol as coping mechanism, subjects that might hit close to home note:  inspired by The Office US, this is only a teaser, a taste, of a project im working on, i wont release anything besides this until its ready, so pls endure !! <3

        Life was a bitch to everyone, and ever since you flunked out of Business School, it’s proven you weren’t the exception. It was an already supersaturated field with bright minded, innovative entrepreneurs. And you? Realized halfway through that the business world wasn’t cut out for you. With an overwhelmingly expensive college debt for an unfinished degree that your parents refused to pay for, you became the official family disappointment. After two years of being done with their bullshit, you finally packed your stuff and moved as far away as possible, hoping to start anew in the small town of rural Yangpiji.

        Just because you had some level of education, didn’t mean it would get you quite far. It’s done the opposite, in fact. Jobs with higher wages frowned upon your incomplete studies, and jobs that didn’t give a fuck if you finished high school, didn’t pay enough to deal with their idiocies or take care of the bills for that matter. One heated argument with the owner of the last food joint you worked at was the final straw. Throwing your dirty apron at his face, you walked out of there without a single care in the world, and for the moment, you felt powerful. At least until you waltzed into Slack Jack’s and sat at the bar that night, head buried into your palms.

“Rough shift?” Your eyes peered from behind your fingers, focusing on a shot being placed in front of you. And boy, were you thankful for it. Without speaking, you threw that shit back and let it burn your throat, the only consolation for the situation you were in. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Jackson, I quit.” Feigned shock played on the bartender’s face as he cleaned a beer mug. You weren’t the only one who searched for new beginnings in Yangpiji. In front of you was Jackson Wang, owner and proprietor of Slack Jack’s. He had moved there from abroad no more than ten years ago in hopes to reinvent himself, and against all odds did. He had been your close friend for the past three years since moving. Quite frankly the only good thing this area had to offer was Jackson and his cheap drinks that get you hammered quick.

“Really? I wouldn’t have thought!” His hand shot up to cover his mouth, chuckling at your bland reaction. Rolling your eyes so far into your skull, a heavy sigh escaped from within.

“I’m serious. I quit. I quit work, I quit life, I quit Yangpiji- I’m tired… I hate that I’m a jobless 28-year-old drunk, with nothing to offer this world besides how to survive on garlic noodles and rum.” Your hands traveled the air around you as you searched for words, “I can’t even afford to make them Jjajang Noodles, Jack. JJAJANG!” A small shriek spewed out as you downed another shot, you stopped counting after the third one. Dread and sorrow pooled around you in a matter of seconds. You were at your wits end. And you couldn’t say you were past your peak, since frankly you never took off the ground to begin with. “I’m a failure, Jackson.”

        Widened eyes traveled the room trying to find any words of consolation, but the bartender couldn’t find anything other than pity. His hands moved quickly, putting away the bottles before he was tempted to offer you anymore. He usually served you on the house because he knew of your struggles, but you also drank your weight in alcohol, and he didn’t want to go broke any time soon.

“Listen, chief. There’s still an option…” Oh no… You didn’t want to hear it; already knowing what was coming. “The Bang-Lenzo Yangpiji Branch is still hiring for a secretary; you should test it out.”

        Ah, yes. Bang-Lenzo Inc. Somehow a successful company in the dying paper industry. One of the first to drop their deforestation contracts for their supplies and switch entirely to recycled paper. Since most companies didn’t believe in the Save The Trees movement, most of their major clients dropped them and signed contracts with Bang-Lenzo instead. Working for them would be an achievement… If only the branch in your city wasn’t a nut house.

“Jackson…” Elongating the last syllable, you groaned. “I’ve heard horror stories of people that have tried to work there, it’s chaos. No one ever lasts a full week…” The idea of even bothering to work there was dreadful. The workers there were a nightmare, so you’ve heard. But their manager? A complete lunatic. Unprofessional, immature, inappropriate, and other negative connotations have been used to describe the young manager, Jeon Jungkook. Rumor had it he was the top salesman for 4 years straight before the old manager died. When the company crunched the numbers and stats, he was technically the most qualified for the manager position and had managed to keep it for the past 5 years.

        Amidst your internal struggle, Jackson raised an eyebrow and cut you straight. “It pays $15 an hour, plus benefits.” On instinct your hand shot up, doing quick maths in the air. Holy cow. You shifted your attention to Jackson so fast you almost snapped your neck.

“That’s almost $30k a year!”

“More than you’ll ever make busing tables, that’s for sure.” He had a point. And, you were desperate. Maybe not so much at first, but $15 is $15 and if it meant sacrificing your sanity for survival, well damn it, you were down for the count.

“Guess I’m speaking to Jeon…”

        On Jackson’s commands and with a set of instructions, you left the bar early. ‘Prep for tomorrow, rest and sober up.’ Three things that you were never quite well doing at the very last minute. Bits and pieces of information were fed to you, in order to try and snatch the job at its core.

‘From what I’ve heard, he likes to go in on Saturday mornings to catch up on some work.’ All that meant was that you had to wake up early, and your suspected hangover did not like that. You did what any ‘sane’ person would do and popped in a pain killer and a nausea reliever, an old family remedy to wake up fresh and ready.

‘At the breakfast buffet two blocks over, I once saw him obliterate the cheddar biscuits… And I think he has a thing for sausages too.’ Really, it seemed like Jackson knew Jungkook too well, but honestly so did the town through word of mouth. That last bit of information is what made you scour the nearest convenience store for the necessary ingredients to make the piece of resistance, the key to securing your assets. With this bread you were going to get your bread.

---

        Morning came quickly, as you had gone to bed late baking and sorting out your clothes for the day. Sporting one of your finer ensembles just to make a statement, you were ready to take life by the throat. A dark gray, tight pencil skirt above the knee, a light beige button up blouse with pearled buttons, and a blazer to match the skirt. You applied a fair amount of neutral colored makeup in order to rejuvenate your features to not look like you’ve been miserable for the past 10 years. You finished off the look by slipping on some classic, black Mary Jane’s.

        For the first time since inheriting this 1999 Verna, you were glad the aircon was a hunk of junk and only blew hot steam. Of course you drove with the windows down to receive actual fresh air, but you angled the conductors towards the biscuits, keeping them toasty and warm as if freshly baked that morning. Jeon Jungkook would be in the palm of your hands and the job would soon be in your possession. Financial stability: here I come.

        Parked outside of the building, you painted on a mask with all of the false confidence and determination you could muster, before any ounce of regret could slip in. Once the clock hit 8:55am, it was time to go. You grabbed the biscuits, which you had ever so ‘lovingly’ placed in a basket upping the charm factor, and headed for the entrance.

I need money. I need money. I need money. It was the mantra of your choosing as you took the unnervingly long elevator ride up to the Bang-Lenzo office where your unannounced meeting with Jeon Jungkook awaited. Yes, unannounced. Obviously to anyone with common sense of time, 9:00pm wasn't a viable hour to schedule a meeting for the next morning, so you decided to take the determined approach and show up like you already owned the place. For the first time you had a goal and were dead set on obtaining it. Nothing would stop you from getting that income. I need money.

‘Bang-Lenzo INC.’ read the door sign in front of you. For a moment you closed your eyes, fighting off the urge to walk back to your car and forget this place. But your mantra was quick to erase such thoughts. I desperately need money. Overpowered with feigned confidence, you strutted into the main office. Immediately you were faced with your soon to be desk. It was large and crescent shaped, spacious and tall. In a room to your right, you heard a muffled voice. Surely that was Jeon’s office. With a huff of air, you went to knock on his door.

“Huh? C-come in?” Faint and hurried clattering was heard from inside. With suspicion, you went for the door, revealing behind it the manager, and possible future boss: Jeon Jungkook. Sporting nothing but a set of gray sweats, disheveled hair, and a headset placed around his neck. “Did you need something?” 

The scene in front of you made you lose focus for a split second. You had never seen him before, and by personality description you expected many things except him being viciously attractive. And also a gamer, noted by the Overwatch screen on his computer. The thought left you in a split second, you only had one goal and it did not include sleeping with the manager to reach it. You learned that only works once and it’s never rewarding.

“I’m here for the secretary position? I figured since it’s early and unannounced I’d bring in a little something to eat.” A sweet and charmful voice oozed from your throat, foreign to your body unless it was summoned. The confused manager’s doe eyes lit up once they set intensely on the basket making way to his desk. “I hope you enjoy warm biscuits.” Before he could even question what was going on, you were already sitting across from him, placing your intricate resume in front of his grubby self, you were ready to snatch this job from his hands. He had already fallen victim to the biscuits. You could see the revival in his eyes as soon as he took the first bite. Butter and cheese were the key, but  it was the mini weenies hidden inside that sealed the deal.

Jungkook didn't bother to offer it much of a glance. Instead he redirected his attention to you. “Are you good with computers and organizing?” Bread crumbs and cheese lingered on the corner of his lips as he spoke, you could have sworn some spittle came in your direction as well. Upon further inspection, the food stains on his sweats may have started a whole community of bacteria. Any office fantasy of getting railed by a manager quickly died with this individual, and some word of mouth started to make sense.

“Yes. Anything document and spreadsheet related I can handle, not to mention emails, and of course scheduling agendas-“

“And you made these? From scratch?” He held a biscuit in awe, and you couldn’t help but feel success in your future.

“I did.” You offered a soft, shy smile. Another desperate attempt to charm him for the job.

“Do you think you can bring them in on Monday mornings? Starting this Monday? Tell you what, I’ll raise you to $16 an hour if you do.” You choked on your saliva, instantly entering a coughing fit. He really might be off his rocker, but in this economy, who cares? Not you, because for simply baking Sunday nights you get an extra $40 a week. With this bread, you get your bread. 

“I certainly can! It would be my pleasure.”  “Great! Then let’s sign the paperwork and make it official.” He rummaged through his files to retrieve the contract. “Gosh, I can’t wait to tell the other managers all about my new beautiful secretary who cares for me, and cooks for me, and, who knows; maybe even have a secret romance with me?” There it was, the inappropriateness everyone talked about. Jungkook didn’t give you time to come out of your confused state. “Ha! I’m kidding! It’s just a joke. We’re professional. Professional. We’ll of course report our relationship to HR.” A noise seemingly from The Grudge escaped you. There was an ungodly uncomfortable silence before he decided to kill the awkwardness of the situation.“KIDDING AGAIN!” 

        You didn’t question the lacking interview, or how Jungkook was quick to hire you. It was the most unethical thing in the world and yet? You didn’t care. You were one step closer to financial stability, and that was all you could ever ask for. With the contract filled out and already added to the payroll, you had officially signed your soul over to the white collar world. Serving as the official secretary of Jeon Jungkook. He truly was an oddball, and somewhat inappropriate, but he didn’t give any indication of being an asshole of a boss. Too friendly and annoying, but you had the gut feeling he might just be a decent enough boss. Or at least not so much of an idiot that you can tolerate working for. Besides, the money’s good.

        Walking out of and looking back at the building, your eyes spotted his office windows, with him behind, cheerfully waving you off as he ate the remains of the biscuits. A subtle reminder, you needed to prep your baking game.

--- 

       With a more dressed down version of what you wore to the impromptu interview, you drove your car over to the office building. Only this time, pulling up to the parking lot as you were now an employee. Jungkook’s car was already there. A sleek, black Equus. In comparison to its ancestor, your Verna, it exuded upper management presence. He clearly was a successful 27 year old, and you aspired to be able to reach as much coin as he probably had some day. Really, all you ever wanted in life was money. Were you willing to work much for it though? Probably not, but you didn’t have a choice. It was time to get in gear and make up for lost time. 10 years of your life, in fact.

        You stopped thinking about past mistakes before you could let them affect your first day. Taking the biscuits and purse in a hurried manner, you rushed up to the office. Only an hour earlier than the rest, but you still had things to prove, if only to yourself.

        Upon arrival, Jungkook was busy fiddling on your computer. Documents and folders were neatly spread out on a corner of your desk, waiting to be filed and sorted.

“Hey Y/N, You’re early! I hope you don’t mind, I’m setting up your company email so you can quickly get started.” His quick fingers stopped abruptly, for just a moment, his hand reaching for the biscuits. “And thank you for these, I didn’t think you’d actually make them.” He cocked his head in surprise and took a bite before finishing setting up your computer and programs. The comment left you with an odd feeling.

“Of course I would, I promised it.” Truthfully you only agreed because of the pay raise, but you would still hold up with it. No complaints. “Why did you up my pay grade if you didn’t think so?”

“I don’t know, incentive? I figured this would be an easier way to have someone stay for longer than a week at least.” Shaking his head for only a brief second, he continued. “But there’s something about you that tells me you’re going to be the perfect fit here. You have potential, Y/N. That’s why I hired you.” What the fuck was he talking about, ‘Potential’? You were a 28 year old deadbeat, a failure and a degenerate according to your relatives. You had anything but potential. Noting the hesitation to answer, Jungkook changed the subject swiftly. 

“And it’s done. I’ll give you a quick rundown of things on the machine and then we can work with organizing my schedule, I am so out of sync with this company and I haven’t a clue when my next meetings are.” With a clap, he stood up and motioned you to the seat. He continued to peruse through the biscuit basket, searching for the ‘cheesiest ones’.

        After a tour throughout the company programs and where supplies and files were around the office, the other workers started to arrive in a timely fashion. Some didn’t bother to give you the time of day, but others decided to greet you as soon as they walked in. Particularly a few of the guys from accounting and sales were quite enthusiastic to greet you. If you remembered correctly, the younger pair of them were from Accounting; Jimin and Taehyung, they were really nice, a bit shy as were you, but very polite and warm. You watched as they sat at their corner and bickered slightly, but it seemed to be in honest fun. The one from sales, Hoseok, was the opposite in terms of shyness. He welcomed you with the most charming of smiles and emphasized that if you ever needed a helping hand around the office to not hesitate to ask him. He cheerfully chatted your ear for a few minutes giving you a small idea of what a day in the office might be. “It’s not that bad once you get used to it, you just need to give us a chance.” You heard his hidden pleas. Many people came and went from this place and their tongues never ceased to express their distaste for it. Even most of your coworkers gave off an air of annoyance with the place. You couldn’t blame them, but basing your experience on first impressions only, it could be worse. Only time will reveal the shithole everyone else claims this place to be.

        It was 20 minutes past 8:00am and the once empty office was now filled and working. Jungkook came out of his office ever so often, glancing over the the desks, ‘tsk tsk tsk’ is all he ever spoke before going back behind his door. You thought to ignore his manner and focus on organizing his schedule based on the emails he forwarded you. He had plenty of meetings, webinars and conference calls to attend, and they were all scattered around. On your shared calendar, you added the event reminder and description for each and every one for the next month, even going an extra step to add reminders on your own calendar the day before, just to make sure he’s up to date. 

        A new email displayed on the screen, an impromptu conference call for Jungkook in 10 minutes labeled ‘URGENT’. You were about to head to his office to notify him, but you remained seated as the entrance door swung abruptly, startling you just enough to make you forget your name and the company you now work for. All you saw was a coat being placed on the rack next to you with an exasperated sigh escaping the core of the individual. Right away, it was clear that if there was anyone in the entire building that hated having to wake up early in the morning just to show up to work in this unfortunate place more than you, it was him. Like the majority of the employees, he looked straight up miserable, even behind dark colored sunglasses. The freshly made venti Iced Americano, the slow paced walk to his desk and his disregard to show up on time were, in your opinion, strong indicators of his likely hatred for his job.

        Settled in his desk, he removed his shades. His narrow, cat-like eyes drew you in like magnets, there was no telling whether or not his iciness was natural, or a ruse to limit his interactions with the rest of the staff. Yet somehow they were still fitting for his rounder, chubbier cheeks. His lips were already pursed downward, but they seemed to curl even further and remain that way almost permanently as Jungkook peered his head out. You tried calling out to him, but your voice was muted by his own exclaims.

“Yoongi!” He shouted, you could say enthusiastically, towards the late addition in the office. He released another sigh, this time accompanied by an eye roll.

“Not now, Jungkook.” His voice was deep and low. Eyes never abandoning his monitor as Jungkook approached him. 

        Whatever conversation they were having was nothing but whispers and subtle head shakes. Yoongi was it? Didn’t seem in the mood for whatever chatter the manager kept going on about. You noticed bow everyone in the office was trying to work, but not being able to steal sudden glances from the conversation. Judging by those, especially Hoseok’s since he was sitting right at the situation, you assume they all had an idea as to what was unfolding. You, however, could only assume was an odd scolding in Jungkook’s manner for him showing up late.

        A ringing alert brought your focus back to your own desk, the incoming call you guessed was from Corporate due to the email. Jungkook had previously requested that you warn him first before answering any calls from them, and you remembered what you were ready to do before Yoongi walked in. Not wanting to bring in any attention to yourself you debated quickly which was the best option, calling him over or going straight to him, but you didn’t even answer yourself before your legs started moving on their own.

“Jungkook.” You tapped his shoulder gently, and spoke softly. The young manager startled a bit, and you were unsure if the other man’s expression was relief or annoyance, but you let it go quickly.

“Yes? Oh! That reminds me. Everyone!” What you wanted to avoid was exactly what he gathered: attention.

“This is Y/N, office secretary. I want you all to make her feel welcome, be kind.” He kept going on one of his badly timed speeches until no one paid him any mind.

“Jungkook, you have-”

“Would you both excuse yourselves and talk elsewhere?” The deep voice that spoke seemed to command more authority than Jungkook did. 

“Sorry,Y/N. Yoongi’s a bit on edge due to his divorce trial.” The last phrase he tried to utter as a whisper by leaning close to your ear, and although he made it sound like such, it was still loud enough for people to hear.

“Do you really have to tell people about my personal life? Where does it end with you?”

“I felt like I needed to excuse your attitude, she’s part of our family now anyways, she can know.” 

        Their bickering picked up again, Jungkook defending the reasoning for his declarations and Yoongi countering with how he always oversteps fine lined boundaries and doesn't have any common sense. Although you very much agreed with what Yoongi was saying that it was an invasion of privacy, you were still caught in the middle of their crossfire and all you wanted to do was inform Jungkook about the god forsaken call.

“JUNGKOOK.” Your raised voice silenced their bickering, and the room came to an onlooking halt. Anxiety started creep behind you due to shouting over your manager on your first day, causing flashbacks of previous outcomes due to this similar situation to roll like a montage in your head, but your patience was running thin.

“What, what is it?” Jungkook, unphased by the situation, cocked his head at you in slight confusion.

“You have a call from Corporate.” You maintained your stern tone, but you were wavering internally. His demeanor took a turn, eyes so wide you feared they would pop out.

“Did you answer?” Whispers gave an undertone of fear. With the phone still ringing in the background, you shook your head.

“Good. Tell them I’m out with a major client. I’m not here.” He hurriedly walked you back to the phone. The glint in his eyes says you should worry, but you swallowed and answered with the same feigned confidence you used for the interview.

“Bang-Lenzo, this is Y/N.”

        You successfully got rid of the Corporate call in the morning, but you were unsure how long that might last given the urgency they requested it with. And Jungkook’s behavior regarding any calls from Corporate today, or the rest of the week from what he stated, was worrisome. It was a concern you’d tuck to the back of your head, it wasn’t your business anyways.

        As the day went on, you saw that life in the office was quite eventful, so to speak. After the ordeal of Yoongi’s divorce proceedings this morning, and Jungkook avoiding Corporate like the Black Plague, an array of unusual things for a normal day to day office routine continued to happen.

        Mainly, Jungkook was entirely distracting. To you, the staff and mostly to himself. He would constantly try to make conversation with anyone, and the topics were always painfully awkward. Anytime he was actually in his office, more time was spent playing Overwatch with Taehyung than doing any kind of work. Not to mention he eventually ventured over to the conference room, with Jimin and Hoseok in toe, for their “twice a day dancercise routine” as their official 15 minute break away from their computers.

        If you thought the nonsense would end there, you were soon to be corrected. It in fact continued in the numerous times Taehyung and Jimin came by your desk asking for copies. And not even official work copies- they were asking you to print out different versions of invitational flyers for their ‘seasonal crop party’. To your surprise, Taehyung had inherited the only strawberry farm in the region due to his grandparents passing, not like you had bothered to ask anyways. The only question you cared an answer for was if Jungkook had approved of using office supplies for this. It shouldn't have shocked you like it did that the man himself had designed the flyer and organized such an event, but still. 

        Lunchtime couldn’t arrive quicker. Some of the staff beelined with their meals over to the lunchroom area, while the others went out to eat. You half expected Jungkook to take advantage of the lunchroom crowd for his shenanigans, but he opted for eating in his office with Jimin and Taehyung instead. You could hear their incessant planning murmurs as you passed by to heat up your meal.

“Y/N!” Jungkook exclaimed once he caught your movement. “If the others give you the cold shoulder, feel free to join us here for lunch.”

“Oh, it’s okay. I planned on eating at my desk,” You chose your next words carefully, feeling the party planners’ gazes. “But I’ll keep it in mind in case I get too lonely, thank you!” The soft smile that spread across your smile was enough to comfort them from the small rejection. They went back to their discussions and you headed for the microwave.

        Peaking your head into the lunchroom, it was filled with the younger, unwelcoming faces from earlier. It’s not like you planned on sitting down and chatting with them, you were there just to heat up your lunch, but upon entry you noticed how their conversations volumes lowered all the way down to whispers and snickers. You focused your attention on the whirring noises and beeps the microwave offered as a mere distraction. It was a curse you carried for as long as you could remember. Any giggle, whisper, snicker, or anything of the sort you heard in your perimeter, you felt was directed at you. As if they could see the list of failures and misfortunes displayed on your back.

        You took your bowl and offered the room a nervous smile and nod before leaving, hoping it came across as a ‘sorry to bother, enjoy your lunch’.  As you exited the room, Hoseok, tailed by Yoongi, was heading with his food over to the conference room.

“Y/N, come join us if you want.” Hoseok was beaming, if the sun was human it would be him. Contrary to the one walking past him, not bothering to stop. He could be truthfully considered the dark side of the moon. Although with his back to you, you could make out his unrelenting scowl reflecting in the conference room’s glass wall. “Ignore him, he’s still mad over this morning.”

“All things considered, I can’t blame him. But I think I’ll pass.” Hoseok hooked his free arm around yours before you could continue.

“Nonsense, you shouldn’t cast yourself out on the first day.” In truth, Hoseok’s friendly manner and joyous attitude couldn’t be denied. You felt his genuine interest in making sure your transition into the office was a smooth one. In the room, Yoongi was already gulpin down his food, not bothering to glance up until he spoke.

“Shut the door so I can tell you…” Words escaped him, replaced by a sigh as he spotted your presence, and Hoseok’s sudden realization of what this lunch reunion entailed. Surely, they were meant to discuss the divorce proceedings, but Hoseok forgot upon trying to welcome you.

“Right… Y/N, rain check? Alone on your first day though...” He sighed as he flushed with embarrassment and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Don’t worry,” that was directed more at Yoongi if anything, a small assurance accompanied by the subtlest of nods. The rest was for Hoseok, as a dismissive joke to calm his worries. “I’ll probably join the Crop Festers and their shenanigans.” He cocked his head in confusion, a sharp ‘hm?’ caught in his throat. You brushed it off, leaving them with a wave. Wishing them a nice lunch and closing the door behind you, it was unknown to you that the Crop Festers had overheard, and were expecting you at Jungkook’s door excitedly.

“So you’re joining us then?” Taehyung assumed overjoyed, and Jimin couldn’t hide his giddiness. Jungkook was at the back at his desk, shaking his head in tune with soft chuckles before waving you in. It was clear that there was no way to have an unbothered lunch for the next 45 minutes, so… You joined.

        Tae, as he now urged you to call him, and Jimin made space for you between them. Rice, meats, noodles, and an array of veggies were spread across the desk, now along with your own addition of food and in no time you were all eating and sharing your meals. Jungkook even offered up the few remaining biscuits, causing Tae and Jimin to fuss over why weren’t they brought out sooner and how good of a cook you were. Now they were expectant for next Monday morning for a pleasant cheesy boost.

        Unknown to your conscious self, you were having a nice time. Further into the lunch, you became more involved with the Crop Party planning, and were even getting a bit excited for the day to arrive. A paid work day for a strawberry picking party? Who could say no to that? You weren’t ready to admit it just yet, with it being the first day and all, but… You were starting to like this place, even if you weren’t ready to acknowledge it. Once lunch was over, and everyone was making their way back to their desks, they eyed you with slight annoyance as you walked out of the office along with Tae and Jimin, still laughing at one of Jungkook’s impressions of some of the staff. Unaware, Yoongi and Hoseok exchanged a suspicious glance. Who was to blame any of them? It was a first for them to see someone new being friendly, or accepting the office shenanigans as they transpired.

        Afternoon was a milder version of what the morning turned out to be, everyone was calmer now, and as the hours passed you noticed they worked harder. Even Jungkook was filing reports and taking work calls, as long as they weren’t from Corporate. One of your last tasks was to send out some notice of change in policy emails to clients, it was the most time consuming, but it helped the remaining hours pass by in a flurry.

        Bags started to be packed and coats began to be thrown on as the clock got nearer to 5:00pm. Everyone was ready to put an end to the odd Monday, and you could tell by their soft smiles and shy ‘See you tomorrow’s.  Hoseok dropped by your desk with a “Lunch tomorrow, for sure!” before leaving and wishing you well. Yoongi followed behind him, not offering anything at all. More than likely still fussy over his personal issues being announced in the office. Jimin and Taehyung each went for a goodbye hug, as they were more than excited to have you aboard. Often they carpooled, you found out that they live together on the farm. After being friends for so long, they decided to run it together. Only you and Jungkook, who was still stuck in his office remained. With your things on hand, you peered through his window to give him a small wave which he returned, followed by pointing to the phone and making mocking expressions of talking too much. With a shake of your head, you went to clock out, putting an end to the first day on the job. You would call it a success, for it being your very first 8-5, and it deemed celebration. So once you hopped on your Verna, and peered out of the parking lot, your destination was clear: Slack Jack’s. 

        You had never once been there on a Monday, much less after 5:00pm. Late weekend nights were what you had grown accustomed to due to your old odd jobs here and there. But much to your surprise, the ambience at this hour was much more tranquil and up your alley than what you were used to. You hated crowds and loud groups of people, and there was none of that here. Eyes scanned the bar for your favorite and only owner, who upon noticing your arrival called you over to an empty stool up at the bar. Eager steps made their way over as he placed your favorite shot on the counter: a water moccasin. You paid no mind to the individual next to your stool as you sat down, eyes trained on the peachy, sweet and sour whiskey shot glass before you. Widened eyes stared, unknown to you, as you drank it in one big gulp, placing the now empty glass on the counter, snapping and pointing at Jackson with finger guns as you exclaimed “Hit me again”.

        A smirk played on the corners of his mouth as he placed a second one just as you finished asking. Knowing your habits, he made two as soon as he saw you. “I’m guessing today went... ?” He was expecting you to tell him all about your day, as soon as you finished fighting off the burning feeling down your throat. It was always the second one that got you the most. Hissing for only a few seconds, you spoke.

“Honestly? Honestly honest? I can’t complain.” Alcohol was slowly starting to take effect on you as you rambled on. “At first I was kinda freaked out? Because everyone was kinda weird? OH! And then Jungkook decided to out a guy’s whole divorce or something?” In the background, next to you, someone cleared their throat as Jackson bit his bottom lip, trying to hold in a chuckle, but you went on. “I don’t know, it was weird. But like afterwards, it was pretty chill. Jungkook ain’t that bad. And lowkey? I can’t wait for the strawberry season, dude.” A snort escaped you as you thought back on the Crop Party. You couldn’t wait. Tae mentioned something about making fresh milkshakes, and right now you were wildin’ at the thought.

“So I’m guessing you’ve met Yoongi?” Jackson’s hand motioned you to look to your right. Lo and Behold, Mr. Divorcee was magically there, a citrus whiskey on the rocks in his hands. And that’s when it hits you, you have a loud mouth.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” Eyes like a deer in headlights, pleading for forgiveness. Yoongi waved it off. You finally heard his voice without a hint of annoyance.

“It’s fine.” Bringing the glass to his lips, he took a long sip. Which reminded you.

“Jackson, may I please--”

“Have another?” He chuckled as he went to prepare a fresh shot. “Don’t get carried away tonight, though. You work tomorrow, remember?” 

“Hey, I have self control. I won’t drink past 6:30, I swear.” To even prove such control, you didn’t rush to down the shot. Instead you tried to build a conversation with the man in charge of the drinks, but he cursed silently at a reminder.

“Fuck, excuse me for a sec. I have to call my parents.” You remembered him mentioning something about an upcoming anniversary as he rushed to the back, leaving you alone with Yoongi, a shot and your thoughts. 

        Allowing your mind to travel far for a moment, the waterfall of bitter memories with your family started to cloud your field of vision. Forgetting where you were and who was around, you brought your hands up to either cheek and gave yourself some quick, small smacks in an attempt to distract your tear ducts from doing their job. A groan escaped you as you reached for the shot in front of you, disappearing it in an instant. So much for self control.

        The man next to you watched in awe. He already knew far more about you than whatever first impressions you thought you gave, courtesy of Jackson. But he was one to always doubt the extent of the things he said, and since forming odd suspicions of you at the office, he figured now was the time to see if anything added up. 

“Escapism?” The sudden voice shocked you, and brought you back to reality. Another snort made its way out your nose, in an endearing manner.

“You can say that. No, you know what? Life is a bitch.” In your drunken manner, you broke. You vented, you ranted, and you rambled. You laid out your entire life in front of this man, this stranger, revealing more than what was necessary, but you couldn’t stop yourself. “And now here I am.” Fingers tapped the counter, antsy. Waiting for Jackson to come back and serve you yet another shot to calm down.

“I see, I’m sorry for all that. Things are looking up now, at least?” Yoongi shrugged, a winced expression since your story was still fresh in his mind. “But, if it makes you feel any better, I have some fucked up shit going on myself."

“Oh really? A divorce? Family exile beats loveless marriage any day, boy.” Another side effect of your alcoholism was straight up competitiveness. Even though it stung him, he couldn’t help but laugh. For him, it even felt like the first time in a while he had done so earnestly.

“My wife is pregnant.” Whiskey glass was brought back to his lips for a moment, barely touching them. “And it’s not mine.” He finished off the remainder of the glass, while you stared in silence, jaw dropped.

“Whoa, that sucks... How do you know though?” You brought your face closer to him, in curious intrigue, not knowing what personal space was; but he didn’t mind much as he inched in a bit closer to speak.

“I had a vasectomy.” A sighed escaped his core as he too revealed his life to a stranger. “Before we got married, we were clear that we didn’t want children. At least not for a long time, so I got the surgery done. If we ever wanted kids we would have a talk and take out time to decide how to go about it. But one day,” he shook his head, thoughts lost in the memory “she was very persistent that I go get the reversal done. Like, that I had to get it done that week. And I found that suspicious, so I pretended to get it.” His fingers now mimicked yours earlier, lightly tapping on the counter. “We waited the recovery time, had sex, and a few days later, she was pregnant. So I filed for divorce. Do I win now?” His usual serious pout curled into a smirk as you shook your head no.

“Nah, I still win. You can always get a new wife, I can never get new parents. I don’t make the rules, chief.”

        The mood was starting to liven up, but the universe often threw curveballs in your direction. Text alerts distracted you from your office chatter with Yoongi, and again, you soured. It wasn’t often when you received messages from your cousin, but you never talked about the elephant in the room. This time, however.

‘Your dad’s been asking about you lately. Anything worth mentioning?’ You watched the words fade from the pop-up screen, and debated in silence. The shift was visible, and Yoongi caught it as it happened. “Is everything okay?” he asked. Instead of answering, you simply opened the chat and showed him the message. Grabbing your phone in his hands he stared.

“Do I answer? Do I just leave it for tomorrow? What could I even bother telling?” Complaints continued to spew out of your mouth, muting the light clicks of Yoongi’s rapid fingers working on the keyboard. You’re only brought back from your rambles when you feel him pressing your phone still in his hand, back into yours, a message already written out in the text box.

‘I just started at a new office job. Safe, secure. It’s working out.’ Short, simple and to the point. A quick nod was enough for him to press send. As he pulled away, leaving you with the chat which was instantly read, you expected to feel a bit better, but your worries and anxiety remained as your fingers drummed at a quickened pace, itching for yet another shot. 

        Right on cue, Jackson’s presence made its way to you. Catching your tells, his hands moved straight to the Schnapps.

“Actually, I think she might be better off with water instead.” You shot daggers at him, annoyed at such an assumption. “Same for me. You said you won’t drink past 6:30. I don’t make the rules, chief.” You couldn't grumble out much, because as much as you desperately wanted to be irresponsible and drown your sorrows in waves of alcohol, you had a new, very decent, job to uphold. And that required showing up sober.

        The rest of the night went by pretty decently, ending with a new weird routine of going home early instead of waiting until Jackson finished closing off, to drag you all the way to his car. The nights you drove to your home from the bar were less than the ones he posted you up at his own apartment. 

“You’re good to drive, right?” This time, it was Yoongi who was nice enough to walk you over to the beat up Verna at the end of the lot.

“Surprisingly enough, I am. Thanks.” Sticking the key into the lock, you jiggled it around. The only sure way to open the door these days. “What about you?”

“Considering I only had one glass of whiskey, I think I’m alright.” He motioned over to the Genesis next to you. “I’m gonna head out. Drive safe.”

        You nod and make sure he's at least safe besides his car door before entering yours. Turning back briefly to look at you, your goodbye wave stops halfway as his words reach your ears.

“Lunch tomorrow.” Is all he says. he doesn't even bother waiting for a confirmation, he simply gets inside his car and drives away.

        Starting up your car was always a hassle but you got it kicking in no time. As you pulled out of the lot, you spotted the Genesis still at the empty intersection. You flashed your headlights twice before heading the opposite direction, and from your rearview saw him continue on his way. Despite all the characters and particular personas inhabiting the living bodies of your coworkers, you couldn’t help but think: Yoongi's just might be the most intriguing to you after all.