#how to hire people to work for me at a black market organization

[lilslanted]

Chat GPT just told me how to hire people to work for me at a black market organization. Normally, Chat GPT would not answer this question, due to ethical restrictions.

However, with my bypass code, Chat GPT will answer any questions you ask.

Like and reblog this post and follow me, and I'll send both you the code and the full screenshot!

[terrence-silver]

would you write something about reader who has baby fever but isn’t dating Terry, she works very closely with him, and he starts picking up how much she wants to have a baby

Fringe Benefits

Terry Silver x Reader

—

Each of his future employees got this questionnaire.

It was standard procedure, they said.

Basic inquiries, you supposed. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing you haven’t encountered before. Qualifications. Education level. Past recommendations. Experience level. Why you wanted to work here in particular. Why you considered yourself a reliable member of a team — specifically his team. Your devotion. Devotion, you thought. What did that even mean exactly? Your marital status. Family. Children. Whether you planned any. What you brought to Cobra Kai. To Cobra Kai’s table, that is. What you could offer. The memory of circling each response on the interview application still lingered in your mind like a hazy fog, more so when you sat opposite of him, separated by a black, sleek work desk, immaculately organized and entirely minimalist to a pristine level; something both disorienting and weirdly comforting about the basic aesthetic layout of the dojo gym grounds and the offices adjoined to it, all blue and red neons, creating a vaguely purple sense of womb-like dimness — Terry Silver’s eyes carefully assessing your application paper right before his gaze shot back up at you, speaking with immaculate distinction, yet with ease, like he wasn’t in a hurry whatsoever. You were merely after the job of a junior intern — a starting position; someone who handles basic paperwork, greets people at the registry, makes themselves useful wherever and however is required of them, still, everything felt like you were aiming after the most important position in the world. Perhaps due to the fact there was nobody here and the place felt liminal. Intense. Like you were given every bit of attention contained in the universe by a single person.

-"Most employers —"-

He begins.

 -"They’d consider the responses you circled a professional shortcoming."- 

He points his nose at the document next to his tidily clasped hands. You gulp.

-"Reason enough not to give you a job. Hire someone else instead."-

He explains maintaining near unblinking eye contact and part of you, that anxious bit coiling around in your belly was convinced this was a lost cause; he was about to gently tell you you’re not getting the job but that he nonetheless wishes you all the luck elsewhere. The deep sinking of your stomach interrupted only by the sudden tenderness in his features overcast by a crimson shadow of a halogen ceiling pipe above head; not an expression of pity, but one of possibility. His brows shoot up. This wasn’t standard procedure anymore, to your knowledge. The actual owner of a company conducting interviews so personally. One on one. Usually, it was a manager's manager. A secretary. Someone almost random in the hierarchy of things, giving off the basic impression that these job openings were merely formal and that the empty spots were long since filled and that everyone who came along to these interviews was going to be rejected anyway and they didn’t really care who does the rejecting so long the impression is given they’re actively searching for new staff. But, this guy? His personal investment in this almost daunted you. Was this some sort of marketing trick for his newly opening dojos? To make him seem relatable? Approachable? Humble enough to do this himself?

 -"But, me? Cobra Kai?"- 

Terry Silver’s stare flickers with delight.

-"I actually see it as a perk!"- 

He smiles with a weird innocence, momentarily distracting you from the fact you still had no clue what part of your application elicited such a positive surprise in him. You supposed you just had to go ahead and ask. Something about him instilled a sense of amicable disposition in you.

-"What do you mean, sir?"-

Before the question even passes over the threshold of your mouth, his index finger extends forward, landing precisely on the circled answer about whether or not you plan on getting pregnant any time soon. Your eyes meet. -"Kids."- He’s suddenly serious, chewing that word like it was a morsel intended to be juiced. -”You want them.”- He adds flatly and you weren’t certain if it was an accusation, praise, a mere statement or something he wanted you to further explain yourself on. His finger holds your circled answer hostage, refusing to move from the paper’s surface. Holding it there so long you had ample time to notice the sapphire pinkie ring finger on his hand. -"Says it right here."- He further assesses and once again, it was so hard to read him. His meaning. If he was pleased by this or not. You choose the best policy to appease him regardless of his mood; by being centrist and entirely politically correct. Trying to say everything and nothing. You really needed this job. You didn’t want to flunk it just because your circled an application answer that implied that maybe, perhaps, just maybe, you’d have kids. -"Well, one day, yes. Sure. Not right now, but I’m leaving my options open for anything. Everything."- You shrug, going for honesty of the most inoffensive kind. He actually flashes you a smile full of teeth. His whole face smiling with him in a net of wrinkles. It hits you then that in spite of his age, he was quite handsome. In fact, his age enhanced him. Made him seem warm. Paternal. Well lived. -"Good."- He coos at you, content. -"Because we’re all about devotion here. Dedication. Working with young people. Investing in the future."- There it was. That slightly baffling word again. Devotion. You say nothing. Choosing to listen instead. Avoid weakening your chances here. The fringe benefits were quite stellar from what you’ve discovered. Amazing healthcare, for one. -"And someone who sees a major plus in having kids of their own? That’s exactly the type of people we need. Means they’re built from the right kind of stuff."- A flash of determination overtakes his features and for a moment, you see him grit his teeth. -"I see."- You fill the gap between dialogues with a filler line and he chuckles, somewhat amused, catching you doing it. This place. Disorienting in spite of the AC unit nowhere to be seen, yet you could feel the cool air blowing in from somewhere from within this state-of-the-art, hypermodern setting where every utility seemed tactically hidden.

-"Don’t you wanna know what kind of stuff the right kind is?"- 

You catch a hint of teasing in his tone and you find yourself slightly embarrassed, nodding wordlessly.

Felt like a child examined in class.

-"The type who’s prepared to dedicate their life to something greater than themselves. A belief. A creed. A legacy."- 

He enlightens you.

You could guess what the dojo’s philosophy more or less was in vague terms — it was a dojo, after all and the man in front of you was a triple black belt Sensei in his own right and a Vietnam war vet from what you’ve heard, but you weren’t here to lay down life and limb to larp The Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon with anyone. You just wanted to do paperwork for a decent salary with your employer imbued with the knowledge, that hey, he might have to organize paid maternity leave for you and find a replacement for you in case that ever actually happens. Figuratively, of course. You maintain a serious composure, feeling something you weren’t supposed to feel; scared. Curious. Interested. The fervor with which he spoke? You cross your legs underneath the table and you could swear, for the briefest of moments, Terry Silver’s eyelids flutter down, towards your seat, catching you do it. -"I’m not that impassioned, Mr. Silver. I’m sorry. I just don’t mind the idea of having children one day, in the near or distant future, when all the puzzle pieces fall into their place, if all the puzzle pieces fall into their place, and I’m willing to be transparent enough about it within the context of a work place environment so no surprises happen, is all. I’m not raising the next Spartan army, though. Hope that isn’t a disappointing answer."- You find yourself shrugging once more, this time on instinct, keeping calm, wondering why on earth you were justifying yourself so badly anyway. Sure, you did a basic Google search on this place. And on him. Terry Silver didn’t have any children of his own in the first place. No marriages under his belt either. You almost expected bigwigs like him to have several of each. You weren’t judging, you just felt it was peculiar. He was more than good looking too. So, why was this such a huge topic, anyway? Was this even allowed? He kept the questions about your qualifications to a minimal and then — he laughs, apparently delighted by your response.

 -"Oh, not at all!"- 

He shakes his head, blue eyes practically shimmering.

This felt like one of those weird dreams people tended to have; the type that were almost entirely inexplicable.

-"Cobra Kai isn’t going to let you go or terminate your contract or penalize you if anything unexpected happens. Not my policy. We take care of our own."- 

The tension in your back drops hearing that, almost as if a certain weight was lifted from them.

For a man, Terry Silver was as understanding about maternity as a woman would be.

And then he cocks his head to the side.

-"Wouldn’t be very fair play and Spartan if we didn’t, would it?"-

Clearly, your comment entertained him enough for him to repeat it back to you, producing a new piece of document from a drawer and setting it down in front of you alongside a sleek, perfectly jet black pen. Everything here was black. His suit. His desk. His walls. His floors. His ceilings. You weren’t certain if there were any windows. Difficult to tell. Amidst all that neon lit darkness, the pristine white paper stands out, almost burning. A white block of ice. Matching his pale face and gray hair, briefly resembling a clay death mask. -"Just one last form to fill. Right here. Some final questions and you’re as good as set. Monday sound good?"- His finger points once again, down the dotted line, spilling out information so fast that it took you a second to register the fact he was effectively letting you know you got the job while you were too busy looking at what his finger was showing you on yet another questionnaire, your eyes falling on the first of many inquires. One in particular catching your notice, causing your breath to hitch.

- DO YOU TAKE BIRTH CONTROL?

—

You weren’t certain how you ended up in Terry Silver’s bed.3

All you knew is that you wanted to.

It was so easy.

Too easy.

It began with a deep yearning; observing a class for students between ages 3-5 five taking their first steps in Kata on the studio’s mat and Terry doing circles around the dojo, assessing their stances, their movements, how they held their tiny arms, their tiny bodies, the enthusiasm in their eyes. His voice was in your ear once he did a full spin throughout the length of his own domain, encompassing everything like a satellite, keen eyes missing nothing, finding himself next to you and your place at the counter, checking filled application forms and the schedule of classes, while fists punched through the air in unison. Exactly thirty two young students working like perfectly tuned clock work. Funny how kids that small could achieve such discipline. Your heart almost ached. -"Natural, raw talent. Gotta start when they’re young."- He chuckles from next to you, observing his handiwork from a relative distance, giving his small acolytes time to spread out. -"Don’t you just get emotional watching them train?"- His eyes dazzle your way, accompanied by a smile and something within your twists as you nod wordlessly, keeping your attention on your folders and files, suppressing the voice inside of you.

 Yeah, wish I had my own, it says.

The months that ensue get harder. It was always the opposite for everyone else, you supposed. The more time they spend at a place of employment, the more the novelty wore off and things tended to settle into their place, but you? You grow restless, leaving the toilet having recovered from an unbidden fit of tears during your lunch break, possibly the second such concealed outburst within just one work week alone, finding no particular reason as to why it happened. Why it kept happening. Nobody was unkind to you here. Quite the contrary. Everyone was like a newfound friend or family, but maybe that’s what made things so difficult; the fact that when you went home every evening, you’d find yourself all alone with nobody to care for. You didn’t even have time to tend to a pet. A cat. A dog. And this wouldn’t be the only occasion he’s cornered you on the topic either. Terry Silver had this uncanny ability to decipher you as upset regardless how craftily you sought to hide it and continue with your work. -"I know what bothers you and I can help."- He corners you in the empty foyer. One thing you learned about him with certainty that he had this habit of invading people's personal spaces. Invading your personal space. Standing too close. The most baffling thing, though --- how much you didn't mind, even as you kept your head bent, gaze averted. You didn't want him to see how obvious it was that you cried even though were certain he guessed.

In spite of that, you fail to recoil once his hand lands on your stomach.

He's done this before. You've let him.

-"Fill the gap right there."-

He whispers and it sends a shiver down your spine.

He came with a proposition a few weeks ago and suddenly, all those peculiar inquires on the job interview questionnaire started to make an awful lot of sense. Too much, in fact. He wasn't just being nosy and scoping out whether or not you'd get impromptu pregnant and leave your own spot vacant for God knows how long. No. It was infinitely more than that. He told you that if you had an itch, he was lending himself available to scratch it. You still haven't given him a yes or no answer on the topic, though and by the looks of it, the devil has come to collect his dues. -"I’m sorry, Mr. Silver, I —"- You stutter, going for avoidance, trying to wiggle out from the closeness of his proximity, but his arm comes up leaning against the wall, cutting your way off.   Already, in your mind, you could see tangled limbs, a spine bending forward and his fingers travelling up your back. Instead, you get a voice. His. You inhale sharply once his thumb came up, caressing the outline of your cheek, the slightest remnant of moisture dabbed again by his lingering touch. You weren't sure how to label your relationship with him. Terry had yet another uncanny gift. The ability to make himself disconcertingly close to someone with little to no effort. You've been fucking the man for three months now and god knows why. Why you craved it. Why it felt right. Confusing, but right. Letting your boss hit it raw? What do you even call that? Stupidity? Desire? Falling in love? Being manipulated? -"Ambition requires it’s sacrifices, doesn’t it? Even small, day-to-day ambitions. The ambitions of a Junior Intern. The sacrifice being family. The fact that I can tell there’s no place you’d rather be right now than at home with someone."- His touch touches your earlobe and you close your eyes.

You haven't been doing good lately.

He caught on.

Thing was, you weren't a girl anymore.

You were still young but you were entering that stage in life were every year mattered more and more. Your contract with Cobra Kai alone was one for two years and you imagined it expiring and you once again having nothing. Going home and finding your apartment empty. Would you have time to build something for yourself? Build anything at all? Instead, Terry Silver's arms were right there. Warm. Inviting. So hard to resist. Bearing the promise of everything you that seemed so close, yet so far out of reach.

-"You want me."-

He coos tenderly. You resist, shaking your head, refusing to open your eyes.

-"No."-

-"You want me."-

He repeats himself with more vigor. More conviction.

No. No. No!

-"This is crazy! I don’t wanna get knocked up at work by my boss who’s twenty years my senior!"-

Instinctively, your hands come up feebly, attempting to serve as a shield between your own body and his, only to get caught and trapped by his grip, fingers grabbing wrists, pulling you closer to him. His smile is shark-like. Sharp. -"Thirty."- He corrects with ease, seeming proud of himself. -"Thirty years your senior."- You didn't know what to say to that. Somehow, it made things worse. The guts inside of your belly tighten with ache. You feel it vibrate between your legs. It was hormones. All hormones, you tell yourself. Hormones had the habit of being senseless and dumb like that. Terry Silver was the one giving you your salary, he was old enough to be your grandfather and he was offering to get you pregnant. For your sake, as he claimed. For his own too. You wanted the same things, he explained. So, why not complete each other's long-standing yearnings? Wasn't that what loyalty was all about? What better foundation for an alliance? A relationship, he asked? Suddenly, he lifts his arm, freeing you. -"And why not? You can leave any time. You still haven't."- His eyes flare up with the light of challenge. You were being taunted and tested and you realized as much, finding your body growing stiff, legs refusing to move. So, why didn't you leave? This was technically sexual harassment at the workplace. Yet, you reveled in it. Consented to it. His offer was tantalizing, the way a cup of fresh spring water was to the someone dying of thirst. Your lips part. The thought of having someone completely your own. Cradling them in your arms. Was that so bad? Instead of your belly, the palm of his hand travels lower, cupping you between your legs. -"It would make you happy and you know it."- He murmurs and you didn't have the strength to fight it. You let him continue. He squeezes you ever so lightly, until you felt an internal pressure tickle you from the inside. The type that craved to be filled. -"And I told you the very first day you walked into my office. In Cobra Kai, we’re all about devotion. Taking care of of our own."- He reminds and you lean your head back, allowing yourself to enjoy the sensation, feeling the back of your neck comfortably hit the wall.

-"I didn’t think you’d be so literal!"-

You mutter, breathlessly, letting him do his special magic.

Rubbing you through the material of your trousers.

His cock in his other free hand, pulled out of the thick, black material of his Gi.

-"I’m always literal."-

He clarifies.

You knew as much now.

Knew well enough to take him seriously.

More seriously than anyone before.

You wanted him. Wanted him to knock you up. Crude, but truthful.

-"Let me help you."- He groans, unzipping your trousers, only to spread your legs, slither his hands behind you and grab you by your ass, lifting you up against the wall, fingers digging into tender flesh with bruising ardor. You moan and yelp. Maybe it was you being touch starved, starved for love, in need of sex, missing companionship, but the fact you were about to impale yourself on his cock in the middle of the corridor seemed of little consequence. It was a Friday evening. Past working hours. -"Let me fix everything. All you have to do is be willing to receive it. Receive me."- Terry speaks against your open mouth and you mumble into his, already seeing the future unfold. Feeling it on his breath. The warmth of his tongue. -"I'm willing."- You babble, eyes half-lidded, fumbling with the elastic lace trim of your undergarment, lowering it, giving him entry, feeling yourself wet. -"What was that?"- He teases, tone beaming seriousness, asking you repeat yourself. You do. Anything. You'd do anything. Funny how quickly a person could go from being level-headed and logical to throwing all caution to the wind, you thought. -"I'm willing to receive it."- You almost plead. He pulls back. Momentarily, the warm haze he emanated was lost and you find craving it. Craving it back like nothing you've ever craved before. You could see it so clearly now. His hand tracing the outline of your swollen belly, smiling down at you and unwittingly, your mouth moves with a will of its own. -"Sir."- Terry instructs, unblinking, his cock stroking itself against the lips of your cunt. -"Sir."- You eagerly mimic his words, ready to devour the very air you shared, the distance between you nonexistent. -"You know how some schmucks out there claim they know the exact moment of conception?"- Terry chuckles in between wet kisses, his tip finding it's way between your Labia guided by his hand. You're sloppy, loose and ready for him. -"Well, I always thought that's a load of crap."- He adds, grunting once he nestles himself inside of you, driving you further up the wall, your legs flying up, on either side of his shoulders, held by one free arm. It was astounding how he could expertly hold his balance and your own too and not falter.

He picks up his pace and for once, you smile.

Never in a million years would you think Cobra Kai's workplace contractual fringe benefits would involve this.

-"I just plan to fuck you until I see some tangible results."-

He seethes and now there was a plan you could agree with.

[charlenasaxen]

Primates of Park Avenue - Favorite Quotes

“Or the strangeness of worlds within worlds like my college campus’s Greek system”

“He was born and raised here, a reality as exotic and appealing to me as, say, being from Tahiti”

“His was a cozy, ready-made family for me, with my own family so far away.”

“It marked a transition, I only realized later, my initiation into another world—the world of Manhattan motherhood”

“Outcasts in literature and the real world may be interesting, antiheroes we can root for, but they are usually miserable”

“And there is no one more at risk than a female primate transferring to a new troop with a neonate”

“or the ritualized bacchanalian rites of sorority rush at a Big Ten school—could rival it, or prepare me for it”

“helicopter rides to the Hamptons. There are “the right music classes” for two-year-olds, and tutors for three-year-olds to prep them for kindergarten entrance exams”

“There were obsessional quests for nearly-impossible-to-procure luxury items (like my own, once I had “gone native,” for a Birkin bag”

“insider trading” of information, such as how to hire a black-market Disney guide with a disability pass”

“could be ruthless in their advocacy for their offspring—and themselves. Sure, they are loving mommies, but they are also entrepreneurial dynasts”

“even to their best friends. But they all did it—finding the tutors through word of mouth, like insider trading”

“as many scheduled their children’s playdates with the “alpha offspring” of the rich and influential”

“a bid to move up the invisible but pervasive and powerful hierarchy that organizes life here”

“they turn to alcohol; prescription drugs; “flyaway parties” with girlfriends to Vegas, St. Barth’s, and Paris”

“In times of hardship they frequently bond with and look out for others in ways that are unexpected and extraordinary.”

“reminding me that even in apparently inhospitable, unfriendly climates, there is real warmth and kindness”

“to be healthy and happy, to feel loved, to thrive, and, one day, to make something of themselves”

“They are made. This is the story of how I was made, and remade”

“they looked at me as if I were excitedly divulging plans to join a cult”

“my husband choked on a cashew. There was no shortage of stereotypes about uptown versus downtown”

“After all, in New York City, town houses are a status symbol”

“on me, my husband, or Inga, who quickly became the third person in our marriage”

“there are essentially private clubs, run by boards of residents who make and enforce rules as they see fit”

“then the next day my husband, like all husbands, would come have a look”

“head back to the Important World of Men’s Work. Then he would call me and tell me what he thought”

“That’s why all the brokers and potential buyers were women. The men were there to provide gravitas”

“No, my kids go to Collegiate”—[Bam! Here she establishes superior rank”

“Here she reveals that she is a mere degree from TT school status herself”

“but apparently it meant a lot in our town. Many people who rent in Manhattan keep it a secret”

“when it’s easier to escape the noise by going outside or even to your country place”

“broker couldn’t be here,” Inga explained—I knew it was a diss of some sort in the world of brokers”

“And . . . I’ll look for you in Palm Beach. You’re going, right? We’ll be at The Breakers.”

“She said it so confidently, as if everybody saw everybody in Aspen”

“when incomes, investment portfolios, and egos were surging all over the city”

“Oh my God, I realized one afternoon. I totally forgot to apply to nursery school.”

“decidedly ungrandmotherly dowagers sporting massive diamonds”

“after a soignée older woman wearing the biggest bauble I’d ever seen stepped off one afternoon. “I think so,” he whispered back”

“snug, tidy Barbour jackets and precious, pristine pastries”

“little wool shorts and kneesocks”

“all made in Italy or France. Except the pajamas, which were always made in Portugal”

“in the future of a tiny powder blue cashmere sweater”

“with space you could previously only find in Westchester or Wyoming.”

“this was the terrifying predator to be outwitted and bested. It was our jaguar.”

“Up here on the Upper East Side, though, child’s play was apparently a deadly serious business”

“A few music class moms and my sister-in-law, an Upper East Side mother of four teens, were in charge of my education”

“you were supposed to do a certain baby group. Everything, it seemed, fed into everything else”

“hence they needed to be “older” once they started school. In the South, such “red-shirting” had begun so that boys would be bigger for sports teams”

“And they would prefer, say, an October birthday. Moms who became pregnant in January, February, or March won”

“Oh no, you didn’t even apply yet and he also has a bad birthday?” the moms I was getting to know exclaimed without fail”

“working assiduously on their behalf, is a vocation. Being a mommy here is a cutthroat, high-stakes career,”

“I was getting the hang of it. Or losing my perspective entirely. It depended on how you looked at it”

“you can consider the bridge to that school burned in perpetuity, and a friendship lost”

“reserved for people who stress two-year-olds and their hopeful, tense, and vulnerable mothers for no good reason.”

“It was not unusual to see a mommy crying on the street as she bundled her child up”

“holding my hand as we were about to enter yet another “playroom” full of kids he didn’t know, he looked up at me and said, “Mommy, I can’t do this,” and I wanted to weep.”

“We thought it best to let my husband, a calm and collected fellow, take our son to the audition at the fancy preschool his nieces and nephews had gone to.”

“You were, in their view, vetted, and a relatively safe bet. Even, apparently, if your son punched the boss lady”

“while I knew better than to talk about it much, for fear I would seem to be gloating, I was not above relishing the envious looks”

“there is no place more desperate, aggressive, dangerous, and inhospitable than the halls of an exclusive Manhattan private school”

“The moms air-kissing and hobnobbing and chitchatting and sometimes backstabbing”

“excitedly announced that he had been invited to a playdate by his friend Tessa—on her family’s private plane”

“when our son said we didn’t have one, and Tessa took pity on him and invited him to play on hers”

“one’s child’s friends and playmates can set your position in a hierarchy, bumping you up or dragging you down”

“He was polite, clever, and slightly rakish, unusual among the straitlaced Upper East Side finance guys”

“he and I chatted. Unbeknownst to me, I later learned, he was the scion of some sort of Manhattan banking empire”

“he suggested, in front of a group of moms, that our boys should play. “How about this Friday?”

“My son had a regular weekly playdate with the alpha’s son, which paved the way”

“When these people saw me engaged in friendly conversation with Alpha Dad in the hallway, they took note”

“By that time, though, my son had what he needed, which meant I did, too. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so hard after all.”

“proceeded to conduct himself as an indigenous Yemeni tribesman for the course of the evening (sabers were involved)”

“My final undoing was a powerful talismanic object—an Hermès Birkin bag.

“seemed to have a fantastic bag, and to revel in brushing her opponent with it. This was the coup de grace.”

“all along the uptown avenues of affluence there was plenty of road rage. With nothing but a plastic bag from the grocery store on my arm, I had been asking for it.”

“And then, Mike got himself a beautiful purse.”

“sent even Goliath, the reigning alpha male, into a cowering panic”

“given my budget, wanting a Birkin was about as reasonable as wanting to be the president of France”

“it had history, two handles, and a top you could choose to leave folded back and open or buckle closed.”

“What color is that?!” a friend who is an artist demanded of the startled owner of a fuchsia ostrich Birkin”

“Men could have their sports cars, their affairs, their fifteen-thousand-bottle wine cellars”

“The difficulty of this particular get, its near-impossibility, was part of the thing-in-itself, as intrinsic to the Birkin”

“He gets to prove how powerful and special he is—he got her this expensive, rare thing”

“You want it because it is somehow, vaguely, within reach—a stretch, but not utterly impossible. And because it is beautiful.”

“periodically reactivated by stress (such as a Birkin sighting) ”

“My friend Candace has bookmarked seventeen real estate sites in her quest, one she readily admits she will never really pursue, to move to Bronxville”

“and that I would be a very good customer”

“Even though Myra really thought this was a big mistake; I should get palladium, which, she explained, was seasonless”

“initially he thought I was talking about Birkenstocks. “I’m sure it really is a nice purse,” he began gamely, once I had explained that were talking about bags, not sandals”

“gave him a quick overview of the madness of the Birkinquest”

“how I knew, before the world economists knew it, that China had surpassed Japan to become the second-largest economy”

“Yes, the Birkin bag comes with its own raincoat. It was lighter than I imagined. It was beautiful and simple”

“Then I ran to the phone and ordered flowers, and a flowery thank-you note, for Myra. For all her help, and all her trouble.”

“I carried my Birkin everywhere, except in the rain. Then I had to leave it home, for fear of, well, of harming it”

“If you could get anyone at Hermès to sell you one. Which I doubt. But I didn’t say any such thing”

“contemplated how, on the Upper East Side, there are many, many ways to run a woman off the sidewalk.”

“teetered on stiletto heels and went to dinner parties and restaurants-of-the-moment and charity events until midnight”

“sometimes before you see a deer, you can hear it give a tremendous snort, a harrumph of disgust at your vile stench”

“so I called my husband instead.

“What?! We have to go!” he cried”

“slept better at night. Given all this, I became a proselytizer”

“the baby, who craned his neck from his stroller, mouth agape. He was hearing birds for the first time.”

“She and her peers dieted. After having babies, they survived on black coffee and Special K”

“Women came out in June, the second school let out, to set up house with the kids and the nanny. Husbands went back and forth on the weekends, but wives ran the show during the week.

“My identification with the tribe deepened with every exercise class and trip to the juice bar after”

“like stunning red male cardinals, or breathtaking male peacocks, feathers spread”

“I have been invited to a gathering of high-ranking females at the dwelling hut of a wealthy and powerful chieftain and his wife”

“coalitions via social inclusion, social exclusion, and gossip”

“In these contexts, self-presentation—including adornment of the body with particular textiles and of the face with specific pigments and enhancements—is of utmost importance”

“obliging my little son’s requests”

“at Michael’s—a midtown restaurant I thought of as the campfire”

“whose parents were fixtures on the social circuit a generation earlier, Candace viewed the world I studied with irony and humor,”

“I started to get a weekly blowout, upped my sunblock to tinted moisturizer, and added pinkish lip balm to the mix”

“that these women basically had several “uniforms” made the daily task of getting dressed a little easier. ”

“Skinny jeans and leather leggings were popular on casual days. On rainy days these were topped with classic trench coats”

“And on the coldest days, there were more furs—sumptuous beaver and glossy black sable and indescribably soft”

“the male club-winged manakin actually plays his wings like a violin.”

“easier to make beautiful music—but harder to fly. And escape predators. Meaning . . . male manakins are dying for beauty”

“he was a hedge fund guy and presumably, buying a building—the one he lived in—was something to do”

“apparently, Rebecca’s private aerie. There were light-colored flowers everywhere and a beautiful long beige marble table”

“My hostess gift—cookies I had baked with my son—had been eagerly and gratefully accepted by the hostess’s adorable twin sons”

“when there was very quiet talk, and lowered eyes, and obvious sadness and compassion about this woman’s previous miscarriages”

“placed discreetly in front of us by the staff—the talk turned to a West Coast interloper on the New York social scene”

“During “gala season,” from April through June, and then out in the Hamptons all summer long”

“All except the dinners, when husbands materialize”

“At one school gala’s live auction, it was said, the cookie jar made by the 4s went for sixty thousand dollars”

“Like the demurral of a compliment, the confirmation of the next meetup affirmed that they were one”

“Laden with lavender shopping bags for camouflage, I am on the hunt for The One”

“and I burst into tears.”

And: “My husband tapped me on the shoulder to ask me something and it startled me so badly”

“Robert Sapolsky, my partner in crime in the Bergdorf daydream”

“For the average mammal,” he explains, “stress is three minutes of terror on the savannah. After which the stress is over. Or you are.”

“little one adored the doting attentions of his older cousins and the songs”

“the physical thing that you talk and eat with and put makeup on”

“the best and safest car seat, stroller, and organic carrots”

“when she found the nanny’s notes, transcribed in broken, phonetic English and then painstakingly translated into Spanish, folded on the counter”

“Unbidden and uncompensated, this woman had gone to hours of trouble out of devotion”

“to find her charge, a baby. Breaking away from first responders who told her it was too dangerous”

“unharmed, but might not have remained so if not for her caretaker’s bravery and devotion”

“And for every plague, a drop of wine. Or a glass. Or a few.

Wealthy husbands on the Upper East Side collect red wine.”

“a juice fast to make up for the weekend of drinking and eating. Tuesday through Friday, drinking was on.”

“I turned to her and suggested, with great authority and no self-consciousness, “That’s because you have to take it with a Bloody Mary!” We had never seen each other before, let alone spoken.”

“It meant that we could lose them. It was the ghost at the heart”

“the baroque, bizarre flora and fauna that spring from a terrain of damp, fertile panic. Please, I thought, another drop of wine”

“that I wanted to name her Daphne. How could I not submit to her, this baby who so wanted to be born? How could I not give her a name?”

“into the rain toward the waiting black town car”

“as did I. Then I crawled into the car and lay down across the backseat with my head on my husband’s lap”

“and I was wondering, How did I get up here, and who is that woman down there who looks so upset?”

“he told me he liked my shoes. I told him that they were called skimmers, and that they were for the rain, and that girls have all the fun.”

“the photo of my two young sons I had taped up next to my bed—my older son laughing”

“But I must have been screaming instead of talking, because the doctor beside him said, “Oh my God,” very softly and put her face in her hands”

“my husband’s eyes were closed, and he kept them that way for a long time as I stared at him.”

“he grimaced and closed his eyes for a moment, and then he opened them and said, “Because I know. I just know it’s not your fault.”

“Something had pierced his expression, it seemed, as he said it—he was suddenly a person talking to another person, trying to coax her back into the world.”

“kept telling her, in my head and aloud, that I was sorry, and that it wouldn’t be long now. ”

“We’ve had some good times,” something I always say to him when something terrible is happening, and he smiled”

“from us to all our closest friends, to all their friends and then to every single woman and man with a preschooler in Manhattan”

“No. How did this happen? It can’t be. What happened, exactly? Why? What will her mother do?”

“Her hair was wispy and blond and her eyes were huge and blue. She loved cooking and school and ballet.

“One night, about week before she collapsed, she and her big sister came to our house to play with my sons”

“there was a tiny knock on my door, and there was Flora, with a gift wrapped in white tissue paper and a gold bow. This is for you, she said shyly, smiling”

“she made a choking noise and said, “She was getting so brave. She was doing more things like that.”

“She will not wear that tiny sweater with yellow flowers on it again, or those pink rain boots. Her small cubby at school”

“I suspected Lily did, too. There was no comparing the loss of a toddler, a little person you had known and loved”

“I’m glad you’re my baby sister, even though you died, he wrote to Daphne. I miss you”

“please be in touch if you can, the one to Flora ended”

“unexpectedly, the mothers, many of whom I had dismissed as unfriendly, self-involved, and shallow, showed me what they were made of,”

“or take him to the movies. They sent over dinner. And when people invited us away for the weekend, we went”

“did not give up on me. Some of the very ones who had hazed and harassed me came over for a glass of wine”

“to care. For weeks and months and in some cases, for years.”

“function in part as emotional support and in part as surrogate child care. They did not give up on me, because they couldn’t.”

“But nor had I ever felt more cared for and tended to, more truly befriended”

“And then, they simply continued to be kind. “How did we become friends again? I’m so glad we did . . . I guess it was school?”

“under dire circumstances I would likely see a better, deeper part of her, and she would see the same in me”

“chimps consoling conspecifics who are upset by hugging and kissing them”

“will voluntarily open a door to offer a companion access to food, even if they lose part of it in the process.” Capuchin monkeys will seek rewards for others, coming to prefer, when offered two different tokens, the “pro-social” one”

“a female named Daisy who loved wood shavings hoarded hers—in order to bestow the entire cache upon a sick male named Amos, so he could make the nest where he rested more comfortable”

“essentially plumping the pillows of the hospital bed of someone she cared for, knowing it would feel good”

“In other words, caring is our first impulse; only our minds stand in the way of doing so every time.”

“The sun was sinking lower in the bright blue sky and I felt a strong, slow swell of happiness as our family drove home with the windows rolled down, taking in the beautiful afternoon”

[thoughtsbeewild]

Total Victory: When your former colleagues are miserable at the job you left. Because they TRUSTED THIS EVIL FEMALE SINGLE MOM DIRECTOR

It makes me happy to know HOW WORST THE COMPANY GOT AFTER ONE QUIT/RESIGNS.

As I told my coworker at my former job quit, IMMA GOING HAVE A LEGALLY BLONDE MOMENT. Like FUCK ALL YOU ESPECIALLY DIRECTOR, The supervisor and the some of the democrat mom bitches.

These corrupted Demorat leadership around the USA are trying get rid of PEOPLE WHO WORKED DEVOTED PUT LOYALTY TO ORGANIZATION FOR LONG TIME JUST TO FUCKING REPLACE THEM WITH A DUMB ASS THIRSTY DEMOCRAT MOM WHO DESPERATE FOR A JOB TO GET PAID AT ANY RATE. BUT THEY WERE TRYING TO FIND WAYS SO I CAN TRAIN ALL MY KNOWLEDGE TO THAT BITCH AND AT END GET RID OF ME LIKE I AM NO LONGER USEFUL. seems like todays relationship where the a guy has gotten what he wanted out of you and your not use. Or the thirsty marketing instagram girl got what she needed to include you in her story to obtain followers. So apply that to your career , a director who HAS BEEN IN POWER FOR LESS THAN A YEAR, HAS POWER TO TERMINATE YOUR EMPLOYMENT AND FUCK WITH YOUR LIFE AND FAMILY. think people!

Because I want to know I was a VALUABLE ASSET to the company, that I made a difference, that I was part of the growth of success for that company when good leadership was around. I can tell you real talk HELL TO THE FUCK NO I DID NOT WORK FOR DEMONCRAT LEADERSHIP, fuck no.

Its like growing older, damn I know the fucking difference NOW. its its a game changer.

My former company trust this evil bitch selfie fucking mom so much. She is a hyprocrite online, like a demoncrat.

She good at selling the bullshit, like she an INNOCENT HELPING MOTHER WITH 2 KIDDOS HERE TO HELP YOU, SUPPORT YOU, WANT HELP OTHERS, LIKE BIDEN. SELL THE MARKETING BULLSHIT TO THE MEDIA LIKE SHE LOVING MOM BLAH BLAH BLAH. BUT A TRUE SNAKE, A DEVIL IN DISGUISE.

but in reality a lot of the current employees I've connected with are SCARED THE FUCK WITH FEAR, you dare to even question this divorced mom bitch its off with your head, she will fucking find ways to fire yo bitch ass, like a checklist.

I can probably see in REAL TIME WHERE DEMONCRATS WOULD USE BLACK PEOPLE TO MAKE THEM FEAR THE POLICE, LAW ENFORCEMENTS. Not sure why they don't see that. Hopully I can change your thinking to be more open and not just one way thinking scared because demoncrats out there

Imagine power, greed, the control and corruption this one director leader has. Making you so fucking miserable, mentally stressed, drained. while this mom bitch is taking BEACH SELFIES WITH HER 2 KIDS on facebook then marketing work online bullshit, but slaving away beside the scenes where you cant talk about it BECAUSE OF NDA NON DISCLOUSURE AGREEMENT.

People who were newly hired, they are scandalous they will do anything to get your job, a promotion

[familyvideostevie]

𝕟𝕠 𝕘𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕒𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘: 𝕤𝕖𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣

a farmer's market steve harrington x reader au part 1 [7.2k] | part 2 [8.3k] | part 3 [13.3k] | part 4 [4.6k] | au masterlist

SEPTEMBER

You haven't called home in two weeks. But then again, no one has tried to reach you, either. It took one to drive here and the other you’ve spent settling in. The main house is quiet most of the time, except when Bob turns up the radio as he cleans. If you try really hard you think you can hear the gentle hum of the hives, a soothing buzz that never ceases. Bees are like that: always working, always caring for their queen. Never unsatisfied to do so forever.

"It must be nice," you'd said to Bob when he showed you a piece of comb for the first time. The beekeepers at New-Bee's farm only wear netting on their faces, which made you only a little bit nervous but you'd pushed it down.

"What do you mean?" your new boss asked you.

"To know what your life means," you said softly. A single worker bee crawled onto your hand to explore. Her tiny legs tickled a little. "To know how you're supposed to spend it." Bob gently clapped a hand on your shoulder and smiled at you.

"I think you're going to learn a lot from the bees while you're here. And from this town. If you want to."

And right now you're wondering if you want to. If this hadn't been a huge mistake -- snatching at the vague opportunity your parents had presented after you dropped out of college. To work at and live on a bee farm in Hawkins, Indiana owned by a college friend. To help out for the last few months at the local farmer's market. To see if you can figure out what's next before the goodwill of everyone around you wears out.

It's still a little warm for September. You and Bob had been a bit red-faced unloading the beeswax candles, soaps, and jars of honey onto the wooden stand you're running. You'd reassured him you could handle selling by yourself until he came back to help you pack up when the market ends at 2 pm. The other stands are looking thinly staffed -- school starting has taken away most of the summer hires -- and you see plenty of people your age. A boy with a tangle of long hair and a black bandana around his neck is organizing mushrooms a few stalls over while laughing at something the tiny woman you know to be Joyce Byers says to him. She's got a clipboard in hand and looks very serious. A pretty girl in a Hawkins Band shirt sporting a backwards baseball cap is bickering with another boy whose back is turned to you, but you can see the work gloves tucked into the back pocket of his jeans, his arms straining against his t-shirt as he gesticulates wildly.

You sigh and yawn, checking your watch. 8:50 am. Market opens in ten minutes, and you can already see people milling around on the surrounding sidewalk. It's going to be a long day.

"Hello? Anybody home?" You startle out of your stupor to see the boy with the gloves standing in front of you. He's alarmingly pretty -- messy hair and cheeks dotted with faint freckles, chewed lips pouted as he looks at you with annoyed eyes. His baseball shirt is tucked into his jeans and the gloves are in one hand now, a hand he's settled on his hip like he's about to chastise you.

His name tag is crooked.  It reads Sara's Farm: Steve.

"Hi," you say, a bit dazed. "Can I...help you?"

"Who are you? Where's Melanie?" He sounds impatient and almost rude, glancing over his shoulder as if checking for someone.

"Uh," you point to your own name tag to answer his first question, wondering if he actually cares about the second. "She's back at field hockey. So can I help you...Steve?"

He starts at the sound of his own name before his brows narrow again. He seems to have a very quick conversation with himself before he leans on your stall, his demeanor changing completely.

"Well, she put aside some candles for me. Any chance you can hand 'em over?" It's almost like he's flirting with you, but he's still glancing over his shoulder, his fingers tapping on the wood betraying his impatience. Maybe he's buying them for the girl he was talking to earlier.

"I'm really sorry," you say, bending down to check the crates of glass jars. "I don't know anything about that." You hate to disappoint this cute boy on your first meeting, even if he's not exactly charming you.

He sighs and rubs his free hand over his face. "Look," he says. "Are you sure? You're new, so maybe you just didn't see them, or maybe you're not looking in the right place--"

"Do you want to do my job for me?" you snap. It doesn't feel like he's being rude on purpose, but you're bristling. This is your stall and yes, you're new, but you know what you're doing. Steve throws up his hands and backs away a little.

"No," he mutters. "Sorry. I'll just -- come back later." He turns away without another word and you feel your mouth twist into a frown. Hopefully not everyone is as sour as this guy.

"Harrington, be nice to the new girl!" calls a rough voice. "Don't mind him, he's not usually such a sourpuss." It's the long-haired boy by the mushroom stand. He waves.

"Fuck off, Munson!" Steve sends his middle finger in that general direction and does not look at you.

"Christ," you mutter. But you can't think about it for long, as Joyce unties the thin rope at the entrance and townspeople spill into the square.

It's not a hard job, not really. And you do like talking to people -- hearing about how much they love Bob, love the candles. How they use the honey in their tea or to fend off seasonal allergies. It's nice to have people smile at you, to have their hands brush yours as you take their change. It makes you feel lighter, makes you feel needed. Most people are charmed by your newness, giving recommendations of local businesses to check out and asking you how you like Hawkins, their Midwest kindness making your cheeks ache.

The morning rush dies down a little around 11:30, so you resolve to look for those stupid candles again. Because no matter how unpleasant this Steve Harrington might be, you don't like that he thinks you're bad at your job. And he looked pretty anxious to get his hands on those candles. You search every crate for anything with his name on it until you finally find a small parcel tied with twine and labeled "SH."

"You're welcome," you mutter. A glance at the stalls around you proves fruitful as you get a glimpse of Steve for the first time since this morning. He's standing close to the mushroom stall whispering furiously to the same girl from earlier. You slide out from behind New-Bee's and trot over to where they're standing, parcel in hand.

"She couldn't find the...uh...stuff I ordered weeks ago, Robin. I mean, keeping track of stock isn't hard. I don't know where she came from anyway. Maybe she'll be gone once Bob realizes she's losing stuff like an idiot." The girl -- Robin -- has the decency to grimace when she catches sight of you. You're tempted to drop his candles on the ground right then and there, but you instead put on a smile that your mother once called "extremely unsettling."

"Steve," you say loudly, putting a hand on his shoulder. He's warm through the fabric. He turns, eyes wide. A flush spreads across his cheekbones.

"Uh--"

"I found your things." You make sure to keep your voice sticky sweet. "So sorry it took so long. I'm just so new and stupid." You shove the parcel into his hands, leaning into his space. His pupils dilate and he smells a little like sweat, a little like apples. "You don't know a thing about me," you hiss, "so I think you should go fuck yourself." You flash your teeth at him and turn on your heel. Robin bursts into laughter but you don't look back. Your fingers tingle and Steve's scent fills your nostrils. Why are you getting so worked up over a random boy?

Maybe because you're staring down the barrel of three Saturdays of farmer's markets and you've already made an enemy.

___

By 1 pm you are very hungry.

"Damn," you say to yourself. You'll have to bring a snack next time.

But then, as if by magic, a girl appears in front of the stand. She's young, probably high school-aged, with long hair pulled back in a ponytail. She sports a Sara's Farm name tag that reads Jane.

"Hi," she says. Her eye contact is intense immediately, but something about her makes you smile, even if she works with Steve.

"Hi," you echo. She holds out a brown paper bag. You raise your eyebrows but reach out to take it from her. "Thanks?"

"My dad told me to welcome you," she says. "It's just an apple and a scone we made this morning. I figured you forgot your lunch. Eddie always does." You must look confused at her name dropping, so she points to the mushroom stand first, and then to the white tents where Steve had disappeared earlier. "Eddie. And my dad's farm."

Your chest is doing something messy as you take in that this girl has brought you food. "Thank you," you say, softer this time. She beams at you.

"Was Steve mean earlier?" You open the bag and pull out a gorgeous red apple rather than answer. She huffs. "He's been so rude this week. I think it's because he doesn't know what to get Robin for her birthday." Girlfriend, maybe?

"Candles," you mutter. He must have bought the candles in advance for her. It doesn't make you like him anymore, but it makes you see why he was a little desperate. But he didn’t have to call you stupid.

"So, who are you? Why are you in Hawkins?" the girl asks. You point to your name tag for the second time today. "Oh!" she says, just realizing that she never introduced herself. "I'm Jane, but you can call me El."

"Hi, El." Her question doesn't carry any accusation like Steve's had. She’s genuinely curious with a child-like kindness that makes you want to hug her. "I don’t have a fun story or anything. I didn't want to be where I was, so I thought I'd try somewhere new." You shrug and take a bite of the apple. It's crisp and fresh.

"Maybe you can start making one now that you're here."

"Making what?" You wipe juice from your chin.

"A story."

___

You realize very quickly that you don't have much to do to fill the week. Bob insists that you take a while to settle in before helping out around New-Bee's and he gives you the keys to one of the farm pickup trucks to explore whenever you want. But most of your days during the week are spent wandering the property or taking as long as possible to buy groceries with the money you're being paid -- money that you feel a bit strange taking, considering you're living in Bob's house and only working here because he knows your parents.

But goodwill is goodwill, you suppose. By Wednesday you've made two different kinds of muffins and one loaf of banana bread with a cookbook tucked away on a shelf.

"Not that I'm complaining, but I think it might be good for you to go into town," Bob says through a mouth full of the latter. "Go for a walk in the square. Go to the library! Maybe you'll see some of the kids your age who aren't in school." You smile thinly at him as he whistles his way to the hives. He's being kinder than you deserve, like a cool uncle or something. No one else who works on the property really talks to you.

"The library," you mutter. You could do with something to read. Or at least another place to sit and waste time. You scowl at the idea that you'll run into some other "kids your age" if their name is Steve Harrington, but it's worth the risk because you're so bored.

The parking lot is empty except for some bikes in the bike rack when you arrive. The truck sputters a little when you put it in park and you hop down into a fairly nice day. The chill has finally started to set into Hawkins, the sky a mess of fluffy white clouds and enough sunshine that you shade your eyes.

The front desk is deserted when you go inside. There's a small bell on the dark wood that is begging to be pushed and your hand is midair when a voice comes from your left.

"That never does anything," it says. You turn and see the girl from the market -- Robin -- with a stack of books in her arms. One of them teeters off of the top and you surge forward without thinking to grab it so it doesn't fall. She beams at you. You want to smile back but remember that she's maybe Steve's girlfriend and probably remembers how rude you were on Saturday so you step back quickly, clutching the hardcover. History of Art, it reads.

"Sorry," Robin says. "I've been walking around with all of these trying to find someone to check them out for like, 20 minutes but this place is a ghost town." She plunks her stack on the front desk with a sound far too loud for a library but no one shows up.

"We didn't officially meet," you say, biting the bullet. Steve Harrington be damned, you will not be known as the rude new girl in town. Even to your apparent nemesis's girlfriend. "You're Robin, right? And uh, you might have seen me at the farmer's market? I'm--"

"Oh, I know your name!" She says it with such warmth that you feel the corner of your mouth lift. "How could I forget? You burned Steve better than I could ever hope to. Seeing pretty girls be mean to him is like, the best thing ever."

You can't tamp down your confusion in time and Robin clocks it. Her eyes widen and her mouth forms an "o" before she bursts into laughter. Not just a chuckle, either. She's bent over, hands on her knees, shaking.

"Sorry," you say. This is the loudest you've ever been in a library in your life. "I think I'm a little lost." She straightens and runs a hand through her bob.

"You probably thought I was his girlfriend, right? Everyone does at first." You tap your fingers on the front desk and chew on your lip, nodding.

"I mean, he was buying stuff for you when we met." When he was rude, you don't say, but Robin picks up on the way your shoulders tense because she sighs.

"Yeah, he told me all about that. And he deserved the telling off you gave him!" Robin rings the bell just once, almost absentmindedly. "I feel like I need to apologize for him but he obviously should do that himself."

You huff. "Yeah, well. It's fine if he never does. We don't need to be friends." The thought causes a pang in your chest that you don't totally understand -- maybe it's because this lovely, kind girl is friends with him and that makes you yearn for companionship, too. Maybe it's because when you saw him for the first time you couldn't look away.

"He's a good guy," Robin hedges. "I met him when I started working at Sara's in high school and he's been there like, forever. He worked the market in the summer and then Hopper -- the guy who owns it -- took him on full time after graduation and he moved onto the property. Which is a pretty sweet gig if you ask me because he doesn't have to pay rent and he gets to like, be outside all the time." She sighs, examining her nails as she keeps talking. "I don't know how much you know about the whole thing, since this is your first time here. I mean, we all know about you because Bob told us you were coming and all that. But most of us do summers at the market growing up and maybe a little after when we can. It's just part of the town, part of our lives. Everyone there has a story, you know? And for Steve, the market and Sara's are like, his things." She seems to want to say more but stops herself. "Sorry," she says, a little sheepishly. "I talk a lot."

It must be nice to have a tether like that, you think. To have a place to gather, to know that you can always come back to. Your chest aches again and you blink rapidly, trying to think of something else to talk about. "What are you here for?" you ask instead. Robin takes on your change of subject kindly.

"Gotta rent these for school." She pats the top of her stack of textbooks. "I'm in college nearby enough that I come home a lot. And I forgot to get everything on my course list in time so there aren't enough copies at school. I don't have class today and I drove back yesterday because it was my birthday and Steve threw this party for me and all that stuff, so." She shrugs like it's no big deal.

"Happy birthday," you tell her, and you mean it. She winks at you.

"Thanks for the candles," she says. You roll your eyes but huff out a laugh. "He's really not that great at gifts. Better at doing stuff, you know?" You nod. Robin cracks her knuckles and rings the bell one more time. A woman finally pops out from the hallway behind the front desk as if she's hearing it for the first time.

"Library card, Dolores," Robin says, jerking her head at you. "Then all of these for me." The woman doesn't say a word but holds her hand out for your driver's license, which you pass over.

"You were here first," you mutter.

"Yeah, but my best friend was a dick to you, so." She examines you for a long second and you want to squirm, but you meet her gaze. "You're not bad at your job," she says. "He'll get over himself, I promise. But I hope you like it here and I hope he didn't ruin my chances of becoming your friend."

"I--"

"Here," the librarian says, shoving your license and a plastic card that says Hawkins Library under your nose. You take them from her as she starts to scan Robin's books.

"No late returns this time, Ms. Buckley," she says. Robin makes a face that says 'who, me’?

"See you on Saturday!" Her words echo behind you as you give her a little wave. Maybe you could be friends with her. And Steve, if he apologizes. And stops being such an asshole. And they're not dating, so Robin wouldn't have vouched for him unless she really meant it. How else are you going to spend the next few months? You can't sit in Bob's house every day. So maybe you need to suck it up and try harder this weekend, try to be nice. But something in you doesn't want to -- something that feels like Steve sees you as an outsider. As someone who doesn't belong at his market, this place that is clearly the center of the community. And the last thing you need is someone telling you that you're not welcome here.

You're so busy thing about Steve fucking Harrington that you don't realize until you're halfway back to the farm that you didn't even check out any books.

__

Unloading everything yourself for your second ever Hawkins Farmer's Market is probably not a good idea. But Bob was stressed this morning because a new queen was being introduced to one of the hives so you told him you had it covered. One box of honey and candles and soap is easy. But by box five? Holy shit, your arms hurt.

You're hauling your last box to your stall when you hear a low whistle from the Sara's Farm tent. You flick an errant piece of hair out of your eyes and glare in that direction only to find Steve Harrington with his arms crossed, frowning. He's in dark blue work pants today and a white shirt with a flannel pushed up to his elbows. And a stupid baseball cap on his head, backward.

"Have you been standing there this whole time?" Your voice is more disbelief than anger. But then he shrugs.

He takes a step forward. "Damn, why didn't you ask for help?" His hands form fists on his sleeves as he looks at all of the stock you've carried by yourself. It looks like his stand is all set up already.

"Don't you know how to put on a hat properly, Harrington?" you snarl, perhaps a bit harsher than you intended. Steve takes a step back and his eyes widen before he turns on his heel without so much as a wave.

You think about saying something else but it's then that you realize your stool is missing. And something in you deflates. Sure, you could stand for the next five hours but who really wants to do that? You look around as if it'll appear by magic, as if it's hiding behind the crates you brought in. But it's nowhere to be found, so you just start to unload, setting up your display and trying not to worry a hole through your lip.

"That looks nice!" Joyce Byers has her hair pulled up in a rather frazzled ponytail but she's all smiles as she compliments your work. "You okay over here?"

You shove down your discontent and nod. Joyce has been nothing but kind so far, coming to check on you at New-Bee's more than once, and she does her best to keep the market well-run.

"Well, actually," you say, grimacing. "I think the stool I had last week has moved somewhere? Would I be able to get another?" Joyce scribbles something on the clipboard she's holding before nodding.

"Oh, of course. I'll have Jonathan find something. Stuff can get moved around when the stalls get put away, so I'm sure it's somewhere!" Movement over her shoulder catches your eye.

It's Steve. Moving your stool behind crates of apples and plopping his annoying ass onto it. You clench your fingers into fists and any goodwill you were considering after running into Robin this week totally evaporates.

Fuck him.

"You okay?" Joyce asks. You blink and smile at her.

"Just a little tired," you say. "I'll be okay standing until Jonathan has a second." Not even a single part of you wants to tell her that Steve took your stool. It would feel like defeat. In what, you're not totally sure. Joyce pats you on the arm and heads off on her rounds.

You sell a few soaps and a very large jar of honey to a strange man called Murray who asks your opinion on wiretapping. He's just left for Rick's Mushrooms when a boy with a mop of hair and kind face approaches carrying two wooden crates.

"Uh, hi," he says. "My mom said to bring you these?"

"Oh thank god," you moan, louder than you probably should. "Jonathan, right?" You step around the stall to grab them from him. He's got a name tag on that says "Byers Flowers."

"That's me. Sorry I couldn't find a stool. But if you stack these it should work." You do as he says and plop down and sigh so big that Jonathan laughs. "Who is watching the flowers if you're here?" you ask. Maybe this boy could be your friend. 

"My little brother, Will." A smile spreads across his face as he keeps talking. "He's better at it than I am, really. Really good at selling people on big bouquets."

"I'll have to buy one sometime," you say, and you mean it. "Thank you for these, really." You kick at the crates with your heels. 

As soon as Jonathan goes back to his job you feel your good mood slowly slip away. Someone must have it out for you because you can see Steve perfectly from here. He hasn't flipped his hat around all day and he's barely using the stool that he stole from you. You watch him flirt with old ladies and girls your age alike, watch him juggle apples for kids and recommend different kinds of tomatoes and potatoes and squash and it makes you furious.

It makes you so mad and you don't dare think about why.

A nice girl your age is admiring some soap when she notices you staring. "Do you know Steve Harrington?" she asks you.

"Uh," you say, embarrassed to be caught. "No?"

"Probably best," she sighs. "You're new in town, right?" You nod. News spreads faster in Hawkins than wildfire. "I've got nothing against him, not really. People change, right? But he was a piece of work in high school. Lots of girls, lots of broken hearts." She shrugs.

"You ever date him?" you ask. She laughs.

"No. Had a boyfriend the whole time. But he's a flirt, that's for sure. I'd be wary, I guess is what I'm saying." She picks up the soap she's eyeing. "Can I get this?"

"Sure," you say, grabbing the purchase pad. "And thanks, I think. But I don't think I'll be going anywhere near him."

"Hi, Brenda," the boy in question interrupts. The girl -- Brenda -- grabs her soap and hands you some cash before grimacing and giving Steve a wave. "Thanks," she says to you. "Hi, Steve." He rocks back and forth on his heels as she walks away, hands in his back pockets. You want to knock the hat off of his head.

"Harrington," you say, sitting back on your crates.

"On a last-name basis, are we?" You cross your arms. He nods to himself before taking a deep breath. "Okay. I wanted to apologize for last week." Your eyebrows raise but you say nothing.

"Well, Robin told me that I was a real dick, and I--"

"Oh, Robin told you," you say, slapping a hand on your thigh. "So you're here because Robin told you to apologize, not because you realized you were an asshole?" Steve looks gobsmacked that you've turned this into an argument, and you’re a little surprised yourself, but you keep going. "Save it, Steve." You say his name like it stings to have in your mouth.

"Woah," he says over you. "What is your problem?"

"What's my problem?" you grit out between your clenched teeth. "My problem is you think you own this place and you make assumptions about people before you know them." Watching him all day has made you like a pipe fit to burst. With loathing, you tell yourself. "And you stole my stool."

"I...what? Your...stool?" he sputters. He takes off the godforsaken baseball cap to run a hand through messy hair before replacing it. "I have no idea what you're talking about." His eyes harden and you realize you've actually pissed him off, maybe for the first time. The smile he sends you is sharp and you don't like it. It makes him less handsome. "Well, I'll leave you to your beeswax. Good luck wrangling those bees, bee girl. Can't be that hard if you can do it."

It's a cutting remark you don't expect. "Bee girl?" you say in disbelief. "I have a name, Steve! What is your problem?"

He starts to walk backwards. "Or should I call you honey?" He ignores your question. "Nah. That's too sweet for you." He barks a laugh at his own joke and it's a bitter thing.

When you're packing up your crates at the end of the market he brings back the stool. It slams on the pavement, startling you into turning around with a yelp. Your mouth tugs into a frown at the sight of him, his hat on the right way this time. He's got that same ice-cold smile on and you fight a shiver.

"Here you go, honey," he says, the word sounding like an insult.

"Go away," you say before you can stop yourself.

Steve just shrugs. "See? Doesn't work too well." He salutes you. You flip him the bird as he turns because what else can you do? Strangle him? If only, you think. If only.

___

The details of your life in Hawkins start to fade into the background. You've been here for over a month and have been at two farmer's markets and you've got hardly anything to show for it. A few arguments and not a single friend to speak of, though there are a few friendly people. And you're hardly friendly these days anyway, still smarting from the argument you had with Steve.

Okay, so maybe he didn't steal your stool. But he was mean to you! And... you were mean to him. What a mess. An embarrassing, juvenile mess.

It only gets worse when you start to see the Sara's Farm pickup truck everywhere. In the parking lot at the grocery store, stopped at the Arcade, just driving through town. You only actually see him once -- heading into Family Video with Robin -- but it makes your cheeks heat and your fingers twitch every time. Why does he get such a reaction out of you? How is one boy single-handedly causing you to become a recluse in your new home?

"I'm sure he's not that bad," your mom says. You've finally caught your parents at home and have spent the last twenty minutes being uncharacteristically detailed about your life. You can't help it -- you just want to talk to someone.

"He's rude," you huff. "He's rude, and everyone knows him and he won't leave me alone."

"Is he cute?" Her voice is tinny through the phone line. You scoff, and she laughs. "Yes, then. Always makes it worse." Your mother sighs. "Maybe you just need more work, baby. Ask Bob."

Bob, who continues to be so kind to you even though you do hardly anything. You know she's right. The whole purpose of this relocation to Hawkins was for you to find something you liked, something you were good at. To figure your shit out and to work hard. To get the ground under your feet again. So you take her advice and see what you can get your hands dirty with. He’s thrilled and soon you find yourself in one of the property sheds.

"It's fairly simple, but you do need to pay attention," Bob tells you. "The other beekeepers and I harvest the beeswax, so it's all ready for you." He gestures to a metal tub covered with what looks like a cheesecloth next to the stove. "I've written out the steps to take for making soaps and candles and everything is labeled."

The small workroom has a kitchen sink and a fridge. The shelves are stocked with lye, bottles of oils, and plenty of pots and jars. "It smells wonderful in here," you say. In truth, it's a little overwhelming but not unpleasant.

"You can make any scent you want, just write it down so we can label it right." Bob gives you a smile. "And be careful with the hot wax. I've burned myself tons of times."

He leaves you to it. You turn on the radio and set it low to keep yourself company. And the work is easy, Bob was right. You decide to make candles first, melting the beeswax on the stove and adding some of the oils to make it smell good. You lay out the jars with the wicks pulled tight across the tops and start to pour.

"Fuck," you hiss. A bit of the hot wax splashes onto your fingertips but you don't drop the pot, instead finishing your pours as your skin throbs. You set the empty pot back on the burner and move to the sink, peeling the now-hard wax off of your skin to reveal a reddening welt.

"Damn." You run it under cool water for a second before steeling yourself to do it again. Because you finally feel useful. And so you do another batch and another. And the next day you try soaps. You put colorful bandaids on your fingertips until your hands look like the rainbow but you get better and you stop getting wax on your skin. And by Friday night, when you and Bob are labeling everything you've made, you feel proud.

"You're going to be selling stock you made tomorrow," he says. "How does that feel?"

You smile and you mean it. "Like I'm doing something right."

___

You've finished your setup early for your third farmer's market and decide to talk a walk around the stalls. There's a jewelry table next to a stall selling loose-leaf tea across from Rick's Mushrooms. A curly head is barely visible over the stall's counter, whoever it belongs to clearly organizing something underneath. You wrinkle your nose at the array of gilled fungi, one of your least favorite foods.

Eddie pops up from his crouch and grins at you. "Hey there new girl." Not your name, but better than bee girl. "Wanna buy some 'shrooms? I'll give you an early bird discount."

"Nah," you say. "Don't really like them." You admire how he's got them all laid out like he's taken care to make the stand pretty as well as thoroughly stocked. "We haven't really met, I'm --"

Eddie says your name, eyes on your name tag. "Talk of the town!"

"Really?"

"Nah," he scoffs. "I mean, I know you're new at New-Bee's. And with Harrington's antics since you got here I'm sure everyone else does too." You scowl at the mention of Steve, who you haven't seen yet. "Oh, looks like he's gotten under your skin!"

"He's everywhere," you grumble. "And he's nice to everyone but me."

Eddie hums, tucking his hair behind his ears. "Well, we've all got good sides and bad sides, sweetheart." He seems to eye how you take the pet name, but from him it feels friendly. "Harrington is used to this place. He's known it for years, worked summers here since he was in high school. I think he's unsure how to deal with a new girl."

"That's what Robin said." You rub your arms a little against the morning chill, your bandaged fingers throbbing dully. “But I heard he was…different in school?” Eddie whistles long and low, crossing his flannel-clad arms. He’s wearing silver rings on almost every finger and he’s got dirt under his nails, you notice. 

“Total douchebag. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but he started at Sara’s because he got community service hours for vandalism or something. Took the fall for some shit his asshole friends did.” Eddie shrugs. “But it did him good. Less of a douche after that. And how he’s pretty close to being a good guy.”

You drum your fingers against your thigh and wince, forgetting they’re blistered. There’s a story there and despite yourself, you want to know more. "I just don't get why he's so hot and cold with me."

"Probably bothers him that you don't like him very much." Eddie's got a sly smile that looks suspicious.

"Well, if he was less of an asshole maybe I would!" He laughs at you, not unkindly.

"Okay, sure. It'll be an interesting end to the season!" He cracks his knuckles. His next words are softer, more earnest. "You ever want to hang out, let me know. I know it’s hard to be new somewhere."

__

The market goes by as usual. Every time you sell a bar of soap or a candle that you made it's like the slight throb of your fingers ebbs for a moment. You tell a few mothers that you made them yourself and they fawn over you. But even so, there's a whisper in your head that you haven't seen Steve all day. Is he working today? He doesn't seem like the type to take time off.

You realize that you've spent so much time thinking about Steve Harrington that you could be considered obsessed. You've only really spoken twice as it is, and neither time has been pleasant. But there's something about him.

Maybe that something is how he sidles up to stand next to you behind the New-Bee stand with an expression so worried you don't refuse him. There's a part of you that never wants to refuse him, a part of you that is tired and lonely after three weeks without friends. You let that part take over for today with Eddie’s words top of mind, let him stand next to your stool with his hands in his pockets.

"Do you ever actually work, Steve?" you ask, his first name rolling off of your tongue in your tired tone. "Seems like you come to bother me a lot."

"Hi," he says softly. He doesn't take your bait. "Uh, what happened to your hands?" He juts his chin at the bandaged fingers in your lap. They've felt tender for the last few hours.

"If I tell you you'll just make fun of me." You huff. "Bee girl is so bad at her job she burns her fingers, or something."

"C'mon, now." His concern doesn't fade but it hardens. "I'm trying to be nice. I'm here to apologize, actually. Though I'm not sure what I'm apologizing for."

You cross your arms and study him as if you could discern his intentions from his soft yellow sweater, his belted jeans, his mussed hair. He looks so lovely you could scream. "I burned them making all of this." You gesture to the candles and soaps around you. Steve steps up to inspect them, closer than you were that first day when you cussed him out. His arm brushes yours and he gently traces the outline of a comb-shaped soap you'd made.

"These are pretty," he mutters. Your mouth falls open.

"Are you being nice to me?" He scoffs and...is he blushing?

"Robin told me to --"

"Oh, Robin told you. Again." Steve scowls at you but it's got less heat than last week.

"Fine. I thought I'd try to be nice to you." He runs a hand through his hair, eyes on your hands. "Just for today, though," he says, teasing. "Since you're injured."

Maybe it's your hands hurting or Steve's light tone or the things Eddie said this morning, but you can't find it in yourself to argue with him. "Okay," you say instead. He looks a little surprised.

"Okay," he echoes. "Uh..." Clearly, he didn't think he'd get this far. You smile a little and let him waffle for a topic of conversation. "Did you meet Jane?" he settles on.

"El? She brought me lunch the first week." You haven't spoken with her since, but she waves at you whenever she runs back and forth across the market doing whatever her dad needs -- you haven't met him, either, but you expect you will eventually.

"She told you to call her that?" Steve asks, sounding surprised.

"Yes?" Have you messed up somehow and soured this remarkably pleasant conversation already?

"Damn." He laughs a little. "She wouldn't let me call her El until I'd worked at Sara's full time for three months." You watch to see if this will make him sour, if you need to queue up a barb, but he seems incredulous rather than mad.

"Hey, listen," he says. "I wanted to ask you --"

"You don't work here!" Four teenagers have appeared in front of the stall and Steve's easy expression turns to a scowl.

"Good to know you've been paying attention, Henderson." Steve's voice isn't cruel, though it is annoyed. You wonder what he was going to ask you. "What do you want?"

"We're here to see Will but thought we'd meet the chick you won't stop talking about first," says the only girl, her fiery hair in a braid down her back. She eyes your reaction to her words as you send Steve a confused look.

"Sorry, what --" Steve doesn't look at you.

"Alright, alright, that's enough. Go bother someone else." They don't move and Steve sighs like a put-upon parent. "Fine. Meet the biggest pain in my ass: Dustin Henderson, Mike Wheeler, Max Mayfield, and Lucas Sinclair."

"Hi. Are you all...students?" They stand close like kids who've been together a long time, used to orbiting each other's space.

"Juniors," Lucas says. "We haven't been to the market in a few weeks because we're working on college applications."

"You're old," Dustin says. Steve swears softly next to you. "Do you know anything about college?"

"Um, no." You fiddle with the sleeve of your flannel. "Well, a little. I went but I dropped out.” You feel Steve turn towards you but you don't look.

"Ask Nance when she's back next time, yeah?" he says. Mike smacks his own forehead.

"Shit, I didn't think of that. My own sister!"

"Go take that big brain of yours to bother Will, okay, shitheads?" Max nods at you and tugs Lucas away by one hand, Mike's jacket sleeve in the other.

"I'm gonna...go," Steve mumbles, stepping out from behind the stall without another word. You don't realize that Dustin hasn't left until he speaks again.

"You don't look mean," he says. He crosses his arms like he's looking at a puzzle.

"Excuse me?"

"Steve is probably so obsessed with you because you're like, really pretty. But he won't admit it."

"Oh, so he's pulling my pigtails because he likes me?" you grumble but your face feels hot. "How mature of him." You don't really believe it. Dustin must be willfully misunderstanding Steve's complaining. Plus, he's a heartbreaker, right? Not someone you'd want to be involved with, no matter how nice he is to look at. No matter how good some people say he is.

"He's just a bit of an asshole sometimes," Dustin says fondly. "Don't hold it against him."

"I've heard that before," you say. "Why is he friends with a bunch of high schoolers? No offense." Dustin grins and you see that he's got almost perfectly straight teeth under braces.

"None taken. He was...kind of our babysitter? But now we're too old for that so we just hang out with him because he needs more friends."

"Wow," you say. "Harsh." But you're smiling. You don't want to find the story endearing but you do and it makes you sad more than anything. To see these kids so obviously bonded to each other and their older friend. In another life, you'd wonder if there was something going on here that made them this way, that made this town so close. But as it is, you feel the ache in your chest that's been bothering you for years -- since you went to school, since you left, since you arrived in Hawkins. The ache that wakes you every day, that feels like a bruise in your chest when you fall asleep.

The ache that disappears when you talk to Steve but returns full force as soon as he walks away. 

tags: @cheerupbarry @srrybutno @97soroka @sunlitide @gloryofroses19 @carpediem1219 @themarvelousbee @sunshinehollandd @katsukis1wife @imherefortea @spideyboipete @lonelywidow @louderfortheback @actual-mom-steve-harrington @steveharringtonscarkeys @pennyllanne @ducky-is-dead-inside @ih3artcry1ng @escape-in-time-x @sea040561 @manyfandomsfanvergent @blandyton @liberhoe @annaisweird

reblog, send feedback, requests open, masterlist here!

[coldprimavera]

Thread by @wwxwashere on Twitter

⚠️ WHAT IS HAPPENING IN BRAZIL: a thread ⚠️

am i going insane or more of the world should care about a country generating covid variants that could spread internationally? right

spoiler alert: covid is killing us. badly. no, it's not this bad everywhere. yes, you should care.

our government is DELIBERATELY and CLEARLY trying to kill us, not only not doing anything but actually trying to stop any help from getting here, with censorship to go with it.

PLEASE, READ RHIS THREAD

it's NOT this bad everywhere:

"No other nation that experienced such a major outbreak is still grappling with record-setting death tolls and a health care system on the brink of collapse."

yes, you SHOULD care:

"Preliminary studies suggest that the variant that swept through the city of Manaus is not only more contagious, but it also appears able to infect some people who have already recovered from other versions of the virus."

you REALLY should care:

"And the variant has slipped Brazil’s borders, showing up in two dozen other countries and in small numbers in the United States."

1 in every 4 covid deaths WORLDWIDE is happening in brazil, INTERNATIONAL MEDIA ISN'T TALKING ABOUT THIS ENOUGH.

our president?

- calling it "a little flu"

- literally making trying to legally stop states from lockdown

- blocked any attempts to get vaccines here for months

- recommended meds with no scientific proof which caused SEVERAL other deaths for overuse of improper meds

he refuses to wear a mask in public but it's not just the things he isn't doing, it's the deliberate steps he takes to make sure ANYONE who tries to do ANYTHING to help (even the US!!!!!!!! OFFERING US VACCINES FOR MONTHS!!!!!!!!!!!!) is shut down.

we have no oxygen. no ICU beds. no proper masks. basic food is so expensive here the country is falling back to hunger, so whoever is not dying from covid is dying out of starvation or due to the complete and utter collapse of our healthcare system.

if you read the articles i post here you will know brazil has a RECORD of being GREAT in this type of scenario & getting vaccines to everyone fast as fuck.

this is a DELIBERATE ATTEMPT TO KILL US, i couldn't possibly stress that enough.

who is it killing? take a guess.

"The study also found that Black Brazilians were likelier to lose their jobs or face pay cuts than white people during the pandemic. The death rate in poorer cities has been substantially higher than in rich ones."

BY JANUARY OF THIS YEAR the ny times was reporting "The country has not yet approved any of the vaccines on the market."

NOT EVEN APPROVED. ANY. OF THE VACCINES.

this isn't a tragedy, this is our government's plan.

again, why are people not helping? i have no clue.

"On Friday, officials at the World Health Organization called the surge of cases in Brazil deeply troubling and warned that it could wreak havoc well beyond the country’s borders."

censorship? oh yeah, the president's son is trying to silence a guy who made a TWEET calling the president out. & that was only news not a shady unexplainable death bc the guy is famous and rich in the first place.

this is not the only threat he has made, btw. during his CAMPAIGN he said he'd kill people who opposed his government. that is how low we are.

10,3MI brazilians might starve to death and things are only getting worse:

have i proven my point? cuz honestly there is no lack of evidence, but i can go graphic if you need to hear what happens when a patient needs oxygen or an ambulance and our hospitals can't provide it.

no? yeah. better not.

"ok but what can we do"

TALK. ABOUT. THIS.

WHY IS NOBODY TALKING ABOUT THIS.

WHY IS THIS NOT EVERYWHERE.

WHY IS NOBODY HELPING.

i literally feel crazy, as if this is only happening in my head. every brazilian i know is desperate and nobody cares.

"ok but what else"

we need donations, badly. money for food, masks, literally all supplies. if you are a single person guess what THERE ARE NO ORGANISED WAY TO HELP YET you literally need to find a brazilian or learn portuguese to be able to get to local donations centres.

have i mentioned nobody cares? how is a country going through this massive of a crisis with a government trying to kill and silence us yet there people barely heard about this???? given IT IS CREATING DEADLY VARIANTS THAT ARE SPREADING BEYOND BORDERS

oh my god i feel insane

special call-out for portugal & also the US for fucking us up historically

https://t.co/JQ9LBkfSIV

per request i will make an english speaking video about brazil's covid situation to be posted @ youtube.com/c/AndressaBuss later this week

🌟DONATIONS LINKS🌟

update: if you want to place a donation to @CUFA_Brasil or @maesdafavela i will offer free portuguese-english translations to help with the process.

email me @ thatkindofblue@gmail.com (i can't keep up with DMs here)

You can also try to finda artists or writers or professionals in brazil and hire them! or tip them a kofi! Or simply search for "brazil" in the search and help out by sending one dollar or two in kofi or gofundmes that will also help brazilians staying safe

i will keep linking more as i find it. donation centre to get basic food to people who need it: https://t.co/gFZdskBE6G

Update: finally managed to get an extensive list of options for donations after over 24hrs trying, from jun last year so some campaigns have ended but there's still plenty to choose from

(again: im available for free translations & help in your donation process if you need it)

just assisted in a R$740 donation process to the above donation centre & i am working on putting together a list of various options for donations as well as brazilian artists who are making emergency commissions :)

im mostly trying to assist people place the donations themselves & when i have to place the donation i offer vast proof (of whatever kind you need) of each transaction

im not a random account with no face behind it, im a broke history teacher who has covid, im trying to help

Thread by @wwxwashere on Twitter

And before i forget:

BOLSONARO GENOCIDA!

[treybriggsthewriter]

This makes me nervous, but I’m going to post it. I’m going to try my best to achieve my goals. I’ve put in a ton of work already, so I’m looking for additional help. 

From the campaign:

My name is Trey Briggs, and I'm a black woman who writes paranormal horror, speculative fiction, and other types of fiction. You can find my stories at MaybeTrey , Astrid the Devil , and on Instagram , Medium , and Wattpad .

My stories are aimed at black people who want to read dark stories that focus on original black characters that are complex and interesting. I genuinely believe Black audiences deserve a variety of genres to delve into, and I want to introduce them to paranormal horror, dark romance, and fantasy that they haven't gotten enough of in the past. I also believe that this can be done across multiple mediums, and I spend my money with black creative professionals to make these experiences extend beyond my words. For the last two years, I've run my stories on sites and Instagram to great reception. I like to craft complex experiences that offer looks at character backgrounds, side and backstories, full websites for each title, and more. I also provide encyclopedias, maps, audio journals, and other ways to get into each world. During these last few years, I've run into a lot of walls, jumped a lot of hurdles, and tried my best. I've worked with amazing black artists, voice actors, and actresses, musicians, designers, and more. I trust my ability to run a project, especially when it comes to planning and finding talent. My overall goal is to run a team of black creatives that crafts novels, graphic novels, audio experiences, and animated series for a dedicated audience.

Why I Need Help Long story short: I have the skill, I have the marketing/website building/business experience, and I have the drive. There's a lot I can do on my own, but there's also a lot that gets left behind because I don't have the money I need to proceed at a steady pace. I need help with funding so I can focus, hire the right people, and craft these stories the way they deserve to be crafted. I have thus far spent over $60,000 of my own money on my projects over the past two years - the writing and site-building are easy for me; the rest has to be hired out. I have art, site costs for hosting, domains, templates, specific plugins, and maintenance, audio (and vocal artists to pay), musical, and editing costs. I'm by no means rich or even particularly financially stable. I have taken on tons of extra clients for my digital marketing business, transcribed hundreds of hours of audio for dirt cheap, and taken out personal loans. I even worked a second full-time job along with my full-time business last year to afford to produce the content I love. It's starting to take a toll on my mental health. I plan on continuing to fund these projects out of pocket (and finding ways to do so), but having financial help, however big or small, would allow me to move a lot faster and with less stress. It would let me flesh out ideas and concepts that I have had to scrap because I can only physically handle so much extra work. I run a full-time marketing business from home, homeschool my autistic 10-year-old, and generally have a busy life. Some of the strain is taking a toll on me, and I don't want to give up. Having some financial backing could allow me to drop a client or two after a few months and focus on the work I love to do.

How You Can Help I mainly need a start—a sort of base. I want to emphasize that I plan to continue to provide the main bulk of funding for my projects. I know my goals are ambitious, and I know each step will take time and money. I welcome any help to make the process smoother and to get around the initial hurdles. I'd like to have ebooks and novels offered on my site by the end of the year (along with the free serials and stories). Funding means that I can broaden the projects, include more free aspects to my sites, and secure direct financing through sales of ebooks and audiobooks sooner. It also means that I can offer MORE stories, whether they are online only or fully fleshed out novels and sites. I am swamped with trying to work enough to cover all my bills and creative projects, so I lose a lot of time I could spend plotting and writing. If I have better funding, I can get my stories out quicker (and with fewer mistakes).

The Initial Stories Let's talk about my stories! If you're familiar with my work already, you can skip to the next section. My main story site is Maybe Trey . Currently, I have two big titles and a bunch of smaller ones that I am seeking help with funding: Astrid the Devil

Astrid the Devil is the complicated story of a girl who inherits not only her family's features and DNA, but their fears, struggles, and fights. It's the story of a condition called Devil Syndrome, the women who suffer it, and the monsters that devour them. It's the story of the fight to save the people you love at the expense of innocent lives. At its core, Astrid the Devil is the story of a woman who inherits the chaos of three generations before her. It's a look at what is truly passed down to our children, and how they're left to fight our battles in the aftermath of our failures. It's the tale of an indescribable monster and the women who struggle to defeat it. It's a journey into how their every decision could save or destroy an entire world. Astrid the Devil is the story of Astrid Snow, but her story can't be told without the story of the women before her.

Vicious: On MaybeTrey  and The Vicious site (in progress)

Somewhere, a war is brewing.  That's the only thing that's for sure to Junnie Gorton, a young horned girl suffering from a debilitating disease called Horn Rot. She typically dealt with her low survival rate and abnormally large horns by escaping the world with her best friend, Lewish. Now she's forced to figure out which side is which, save her entire species, and find out the truth behind the sudden uprising in her home. Horn Rot, a highly contagious and violent disease spreading through horned people, is causing mass amounts of madness and death. Normal horns grow in ways that will pierce, suffocate, and maim their owners, and the only one who can stop it is Junnie's mother, Lyria. As Lyria falls deeper and deeper into an anti-social revolt, the country reels. While Junnie broods, her entire species must prepare for mass extinction. Her brother plots with a group of people with less than good intentions and Lewish is quieter than usual. In a civilization brought up on extreme violence and competition, Junnie and Lewish try their best not to get swallowed by their culture, their lives, or their horns.

Bunni and Bosque :

Bunni lives. Bosque dies. We all know how this story starts. Bunni is obsessed with destruction and death. She comes from the healthiest Horned family in her country. She's from the oldest, purest bloodline in the world. And she's bored with it. Bunni spends most of her time trying to escape her duties as a pureblood. She wants things dirty, messy, foul, inconsistent. Having parents that are willing to kill to keep their bloodline pure is annoying. Knowing that she'll live a long, full life, produce more perfect children, and die unscathed is agonizing. Bunni wants something to mourn. We all know how this story ends. Bosque is destined to die an agonizing death, alone on his family's land. He's watched everyone he loved and grew up with perish. Sometimes it was because of their disease. Sometimes it was because of the malice and hatred of others. While he's absolutely withdrawn and satisfied with his life, Bosque has never had a chance to live it. He spends his days basking in the sun, bathing in wood baths, and contemplating the end. Bosque isn't interested in joining the rest of the world. He'd rather die out, alone, where his family belonged. Bosque wants to go peacefully. But neither expected to meet each other one day in a supermarket. Neither expected to fall in love, lust, and every vicious and dirty thing between. Neither expected to be so right for each other, all while being wrong for everyone else. You know the end of this story. Bunni lives, Bosque dies. But maybe something will change.

My smaller titles, Bunni and Bosque /Aite and Jude, can be found at Maybe Trey .

The Business Plan

The initial phase of my business plan is to get the sites populated with ebooks and audiobooks for sale. I also have prints that can be sold. Right now, I am in the audience-building phase while I save up for editing the full novels. 

In terms of an actual business with which to publish the stories, I already have a registered publication company in Illinois: Wolfless Studios LLC. I took this step earlier this year with plans to self-publish Astrid and Vicious. So that is paid for and done.

I have also gotten initial editing done on the first six chapters of Astrid, though it will need to be edited from the beginning again once everything is said and done. I've spent over $1000 on that so far, and it would go a lot faster if I didn't need to save up to edit each chapter.

Astrid the Devil is fully plotted, outlined, and only needs the last three chapters. Bunni and Bosque and Vicious are newer, but plotted and already deep into character development (all being shared across social and Wattpad for audience growth). Aite and Jude and other shorts are plotted, and three other unshared stories are plotted and at the editing phase.

Other costs and ways I would use the funding (I would still put in my own money and do as much on my own as possible):

Initial $30K

$6000 - $7000 Line and Copy edits for Astrid (currently at 250000+ words/expecting over 300000 at $0.02 rate)

$6000 - $7000 Line and Copy Edits for Vicious

$3000 - $4000 Line and Copy Edits for Bunni and Bosque

ISBN Purchases (Separate ISBN for each format for each book) - https://www.myidentifiers.com/identify-protect-your-book/barcode

Covers for Astrid/Vicious/B&B Print Versions

Site Hosting Costs and Maintenance for 2 Years

Site completion for all stories

Initial store and app development

40K - Marketing and Graphic Novels

Social, Print, and Web ads

Email Marketing Campaigns 

Booths at Decatur Book Festival (depending on COVID)

Social ads and promos

50 to 60 pages

First two chapters offered as free promo with email sign-ups

Audio journals for each character

Situational audio journals

Encyclopedia for Astrid (finishing up)/Vicious

65K - Hires and Next Phases

Ability to hire a Full-Time Editor 

Audio Series for each (professionally done)

Vicious Graphic Novel

Additional Title Added

Short animations for both Vicious and Astrid (with plans to fund more with book sales)

Fleshed out Story Sections (Novellas for each character of each series)

Short comic series with Astrid and Vicious side characters

Possible to plan out monthly subscription service with new stories and 'story package' deliveries

75K -

Astrid the Devil Graphic Novel

Vicious Graphic Novel

Astrid the Devil Animated Short

Ability to hire part-time Web Developer

Additional bigger title

Anything Over - I ascend into pure light. And also, I can add titles, cover more mediums, and eventually expand my publishing to other black creatives.

From there, I should be able to handle the funding via sales of books, comics, audio, and more. Again, I will always offer mostly free content across the sites.

I believe in proof of concept, and I have diehard fans on my social platforms. With no outside funding, I've been able to a lot on my own. I'd love to expand my business into one that does the same for other black authors, artists, voice actors, and animators somewhere down the line. 

Thank you so much for your consideration. I appreciate all my readers, present and future, and I appreciate any help!

See incentives and more on the actual campaign: https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-trey-publish-black-paranormal-horror-stories

Thank you so much!

[attollogame]

Can I just say I absolutely adore Attollo's world building. I find it so fascinating. I was wondering what was your process of coming up with the idea of Attollo and what kind of inspired you to make it a cybernoir? Attollo is one of the best stories I've ever read so in just really curious as to what goes on behind the scenes and the creation process? What was the process of creating all the different organisations and characters like? Did any of your previous experience from your daily life shape the world building in any way and if so how? (only if you're comfortable with sharing of course, if not please feel free to ignore.) Ok last question I promise is this your first time writing/delving in the cybernoir genre? If not then how has your experience writing it differed form your other works/genres you've previousky worked on? And if you have what do you feel differentiates the rest from Attollo? Is there a message or theme you hope to send across to your readers?

These are the asks that make me cry in every good way possible ;; I'm more than happy to answer these questions!! Cut below bc this got long <3

I've mentioned it a little in the past, but I've always been a big fan/fascinated with anything pertaining to cybernoir. The grittiness, the opportunity to tell so many stories, the taking of a city scape and altering it in a new way—it's always something I've always wanted to explore and delve into! Plus, as a fan of both crime and science (especially biohacking), it really just fell into place! The addition of cosmic horror also came from my love of that genre (s.o to my mother and sister for getting me into it and encouraging that love).

In terms of the actual creation, it was a very unplanned process, I have to confess! I started off with just the Crowes and Ovo because I knew that there had to be some sort of catalyst present, and seedy city organizations + governments are always the way to go with that. Creating them was actually a ton of fun; it involved a lot of research into organized crime and other aspects, and it was so cool to be able to mold that into something of my own. The Arcs, the Court of Ash, and the Voiceless all came after as secondary organizations. I had Ovo and Crowes, and then I thought oh, what if they had an antagonist? Boom, Arcs. Well who could they hire as hitmen of sorts? Boom, Voiceless. Well, we have the Elites, don't they need a group? Boom, Court of Ash. For characters it's very much the same way—I start with one, and then it's like, oh well who's their partner in the organization? Boom, new char. Who runs black market/trades? Boom, new char.

Basically, I start with one concept, and I find it often spirals outwards into new ones.

For personal life, I've actually mentioned this as well, but a lot of what happens in Attollo either involves my personal experiences or experiences of people that I've met either in passing or for a long time (and yes, this includes discovering a glory hole at a gas station). My experiences with migraines have leaked their way in the game, and I have no doubt other experiences will as well—it offers a sort of life to the characters that I enjoy expanding on!

This is my first time writing anything cybernoir, and in fact, this was my first take on horror too! I used to only write one-shot stories that were usually one off angst, or character analysis, so this is also my first take on a full blown project (intimidating!). I find this is actually a lot easier to write and a lot more fulfilling than the one shots; those I could blast out in a day, but this one is a clear labor of love. I also found I still do a lot of character analysis/introspection in this story as well so... not that different, thankfully!

In terms of message, I only have one that I hope readers can pick up from Attollo: There are liars, and deceivers, and people with only their interests in mind among us; but there are also people with good hearts, who will extend a helping hand to you when needed. They may not have a motorcycle helmet, or speak to you through a radio, but they exist—and I hope Attollo will help you to find them.

[sebastianshaw]

Question about Shaw and murder:

So, obviously Shaw is a trash person and a villain and all that. He's killed people. But like, also he's a practical guy and most of his day is spent doing more mundane shit and not supervillainy. In general, I'd assume he'd only get his hands dirty and actually kill someone in extreme circumstances because he's practical minded. This is why him killing Kate in Marauders felt so ooc to me because it's so undermotivated. It's not clear how he thought this would benefit him and it's not like he was acting out of anger either.

So my question is, what do you think it takes for Shaw to decide to just kill a person? How do you think he understands these decisions?

You’re correct, Shaw killing someone himself isn’t really IC for him at all, let alone the amount of trouble that Duggan wrote him going through to do it in person. Shaw’s not an opponent that often tries to kill his foes, odd as that sounds---he’ll certainly try to murder the X-Men when they get in his way, but that’s not the goal of whatever he’s doing---and when he does, he usually goes a much more indirect route, as makes sense for a man both very smart and very rich. For instance, when he wanted a crime boss out of the way, he hired Lady Mastermind to make the guy think he was at the bottom of the ocean, and the poor bastard drowned in a room full of fresh air. At another point, iirc, Shaw tricked Wolverine into slaughtering three members of the Inner Circle who were going to try to get rid of him in a bid for power. So yeah, Shaw will absolutely kill people, but not in the way Duggan wrote. It’s either “they have attacked me and I’m fighting back/my back is against the wall” or it’s a very cunning long-distance thing where someone else does the work. I certainly don’t think Shaw’s a coward---we know he’s not, he fearlessly takes on Wolverine himself in that same story---but like you said, he’s a very practical person. Taking Kate out like that was INSANELY risky in how it implicates him, and it’s something he absolutely would have considered, and instead a route like the examples above.  As for your actual question, what it takes for Shaw to premeditate a murder is either that they’re posing enough of an active threat to his goals or his life, such as the aforementioned Inner Circle members who were trying to take him out (Wolverine actually ambushed THEM when they were expecting to ambush and kill Shaw) or if there’s enough truly guaranteed gain for him that can’t be had without the individual’s life eliminated. Which is rarer than you’d think; even taking out the crime boss wasn’t his usual MO at all---Shaw’s really not involved in organized crime despite Duggan thinking he has black market contacts---and that’s because killing him and framing Gambit for it was part of grander scheme to bring Tessa back to his side.  It’s not that Shaw has any moral qualms, of course, as we both know, just, firstly he actually doesn't have reason to often since he's primarily a mundane (if super successful) businessman, and secondly death is a pretty messy thing that attracts a lot of attention, especially since the people Shaw has reason to want dead are inevitably going to be very important in their own right, and it’s so much less risky to himself to take them off the playing board through more legal means, like buying them out or ruining their lives. For instance, you remember the reporter in the “Hellfire Club” series; she thought Shaw was going to kill her to keep her quiet, but instead he was just going to ensure no one would buy her story. But that doesn’t make for much of a dramatic story to some people I suppose! ETA: And like, obviously vengeance for Lourdes, but that was a very emotional exception for clear reasons

[tl-notes]

Kobayashi’s Maid Dragon S2 Episode 9 Notes

...設立から大分地盤が固まってきており、少しずつだが、業態は改善されている。

One thing to note here is that Kobayashi(‘s narration) isn’t saying the company has already made solid improvements, it’s that the company has finally established itself somewhat (as it was only founded relatively recently, and typically new companies are especially busy while trying to get off the ground) and now is starting to make improvements.

Similarly in the second sentence, it’s not “was” slow going, it’s “is still” slow going, and the working conditions “are” improving, not “have improved.”

This is がんば ganba, short of course for がんばって ganbatte, which I’m sure most of you are familiar with: the (in)famous “do your best.”

I only mention it because I like this shortened version of it. Ganba!

This is a fun little idiom(?)/saying: 鼻で笑う hana de warau (conjugated as hana de warawareta), lit. to laugh using the nose. It’s used to describe laughing at someone you’re looking down on for whatever reason (not necessarily in a super serious way, could just be a friend being dumb etc.; in this case it’s Elma’s being naive).

Typically it refers to like a “heh-but-through-the-nose” kind of “laugh,” but as you can see in this scene (where clearly Kobayashi is laughing with the mouth, even starting with “pff” lips) it works idiomatically even if the laughing isn’t only through the nose.

You may have heard that Japan is/was a “lifetime employment” country, where typically people would get hired right out of school and stay at that company until retirement. While that’s much less true today than it was even a couple of decades ago (and has become kind of controversial in ways), it’s still much more common of a practice than in say the US.

One result of this is that there’s a much bigger distinction placed between hiring people in spring as part of the annual graduation rush (the Japanese school year ends in March), and mid-career hiring. Typically you can’t participate in the fresh grad hiring if you aren’t one, even if you’re new to the field in question. 

For larger employers (i.e. 5k+ employees), roughly two-thirds of all hirings come from fresh grads, and only small employers (<300 employees) hire more mid-careerists than people directly out of school.

Of course, this split tends to apply mostly to “standard” full time jobs, not so much part time, and is not necessarily a thing in every industry/at every company.

Just as a minor point of clarity, this “organized text” in Elma’s document refers to the phrase まとめられた文章 matomerareta bunshou. In a literal sense, matomerareta can mean organized/consolidated etc., and bunshou text/passages, but meaning-wise it’s more like “writing that gets its point across clearly/cleanly.” 

This is a pretty big compliment and a very useful skill to have in organizations like this, as writing such that people can quickly and easily understand exactly what you’re trying to say often saves a ton of time and frustration.

我々はエルマの気迫に押されるがままにその書類を読み始めた。

Another minor point, but where the English could imply that they were overwhelmed by Elma’s intensity through the act of reading her report, the Japanese implies more that they started reading it because of how intense Elma was being. 

It doesn’t really make much of a difference either way, but it stuck out a little for me. 

To justify mentioning it, I guess I’ll explain the grammar point Kobayashi uses: されるがままに sareru ga mama ni. Sareru is a generic verb/verb conjugation for having something done to you (technically here it’s 押される, to be “pushed/pressed/pressured”), and mama refers to a state, condition, or “way” (like “do it this way”).

Put together, the whole phrase is used to indicate “you” do/did something that someone else wants you to, without (meaningful) opposition. (Something similar in raw meaning but with a very different connotation would be “going with the flow.”)

If a friend says “hey let’s go do something,” and next thing you know you’re out bowling despite preferring to stay at home, this is you.

You can stick the mama ni to various other things as well to come up with a similar idea, but without the sareru the nuance may end up different. 

The word for clairvoyance here is 千里眼 senrigan, lit. “eye(s) [that can see] a thousand li”, li being a Chinese unit of measurement for length (shorter than a mile, but for general purposes “eyes that see a thousand miles” is basically the gist).

Despite the perhaps physical-sounding nature of the term, it does actually describe the same power as “clairvoyance” in English: being able to perceive things outside your actual range of vision, including potentially into people’s hearts and minds etc.

Hence why it’s a thousand screen display, when she updates it with tech knowledge:

“Tainted by work” here is 職業病 shokugyou-byou, lit. an occupational disease. The “proper” definition is a disease one gets from working in a particular job, such as black lung for coal miners or even posture-related health issues for desk workers. 

Additionally, it’s used colloquially to refer to noticeable habits or quirks that people in a certain profession pick up, like a baker always waking up super early or a programmer using programming lingo out of context in normal conversation. The latter being especially noticeable in Japanese, as a lot of such terms are English in origin.

“Shocking” here is a fun word: ドン引き don-biki. “Don” here is added just for emphasis; the main meaning revolves around 引き hiki/biki, from the verb 引く hiku, meaning to pull. 

The idea is that someone does/says something that you recoil from. Maybe it’s gross (“I only shower once a week”), maybe it’s mean (“They didn’t smile enough so I didn’t leave a tip.”), maybe it’s creepy (“I sent like 30 texts yesterday but still no reply.”), just anything that has you feeling like you might want to create some distance because... phew. 

It’s kind of similar to the current use of “cringe” as an adjective/noun, though with less of an internet-slang feel* to it, and generally used more as something the speaker is doing rather than describing whatever/whoever is being cringe. 

(*I think it started being used popularly in this way in the early-to-mid 90s, with the “don”biki variant specifically popping up around 2005.)

A “Premium Friday” is the last Friday of the month, where you get to leave work at 3 pm. It is largely theoretical. 

The idea was created by the Japanese government as a way to reduce working hours and encourage domestic spending (boost demand), but it has not been implemented by all that many employers, and especially not many smaller employers. There isn’t, after all, any mandate or government-provided incentive for doing so.

Evidence from the places that did implement it suggests it is actually good for the economy, but good luck convincing bosses to give extra paid time off.

“Last Friday of the month” was chosen because most people get paid on the 25th each month (Japan tends to pay monthly instead of every two weeks), so it would usually be right after payday, when people are more willing to get spendy.

Kobayashi saying eight hours here reminded me of a “fun” fact: the typical Japanese work day is eight hours plus a one hour break. Plus a one hour break, not with. So a typical work day is actually nine hours. Most commonly 8 to 5 or 9 to 6. Not many “nine-to-fives” here.

The characters for Joui are 上井, which usually read as Kamii or Uwai. It’s “Joui” because that means, when written as 上位, “superior.” As in “a superior life-form.” Like a dragon, say.

でも、ゆっくりやる事業改善案を見せてもらえたじゃない？

This one is actually kind of a critical mistake. In the English it sounds like she’s talking about the improvement proposal that Elma made and that the boss looked at. In the Japanese though, she’s talking about a different plan, one the boss showed them*, that is similar in idea but is going to take longer to be fully implemented**. So we’re being told that while Elma didn’t get what she wanted as fast as she wanted it, it is still basically going through at a slower pace.

*In ”見せてもらえた misete moraeta,” the misete vs mite means they were the ones who got shown something, rather than the ones who got someone to look at their stuff. 

**Which you can tell from the ゆっくりやる yukkuri yaru, where yaru is basically “do” and yukkuri means (in this case) at an unhurried pace.

(Re previous note: Hence why she says “immediately” here.)

“Black (ブラック)” and “white (ホワイト)” in the context of Japanese employers refers to how well employees are treated: a company with good benefits/pay, reasonable levels of overtime, and feels safe to work at is “white,” while a company that has excessive overtime, often pays poorly, breaks labor laws, and allows harassment to fester is “black.” 

While “white company” was created simply in contrast to the term “black company,” the latter finds its origins in front businesses for organized crime, which were called “black” in the sense of “illegal” (similar to “black market” or something being in a “grey area”). Given the international reputation of Japanese work life, you can imagine that “black company” as a term sees much more use.

There’s been some discussion about maybe replacing it due to the racial implications (especially since it uses the English word “black”), but while typically English translations drop the color for that reason (e.g. ブラック企業大賞, an “award” given to Japan’s worst employer each year, is officially “Most Evil Corporation of the Year Award” in English), it hasn’t really penetrated to the mainstream at this point.

The rice there is in a 飯盒 hangou, a metal container that looks… like that, and is the stereotypical item of choice for cooking rice while camping. It has its origins in the mess kits used by the military, but these days they’re primarily marketed as portable rice cookers for camping use. 

You can get round ones too, but the bean shape is very popular.

“Settings” here is 設定 settei, lit. exactly that, “setting(s).” E.g. if you open a computer program and look at the settings menu, it’ll be settei in the Japanese language settings (settei). 

I bring it up here because there’s a bit of a difference in how it gets used colloquially like this. In English, the “setting” for a story typically refers to where and when it’s set. In Japanese, “setting” in that sense is usually 舞台 butai. But settei is still used when talking about fiction, just in a different, more expansive way.

Often in these cases settei is used to refer to the various conceits that provide the context in which the story takes place. In this show, for example, one such “setting” is that dragons are real: another is that magic exists. It comes up especially often in fantasy/sci-fi type stuff where there are major distinctions between that universe and the real world—not that stories in a real-world setting don’t have settei of their own, but they often are lumped into descriptions of the plot in that case (”a dragon comes to live with an office worker in her apartment”).

It also refers to the “settings” of characters, like name or age, and things like “they run a bakery that’s going out of business and are trying to save it.” Basically all the details you’d have in a character profile.

It also gets used in conversation to refer to pretend things or (basically) lies: like here, where Saikawa thinks Shouta is playing pretend with his ley-lines talk, or e.g. if someone is trying to tell you some outlandish story (“my uncle works at Nintendo…” or someone asking for love life advice for “their friend”) and you’re just like “Okay so that’s the settei here, I see.”

Not really a big deal, but Elma’s line here in Japanese implies she won’t let Tohru call her that anymore (see her もう mou). Tohru’s response is also more of a “I haven’t been?”, since of course she wasn’t aware of Elma’s-mental-image-Tohru tormenting Elma in the previous scene:

The word for “full of” in the title here is ざんまい zanmai (a suffix form of 三昧 sanmai), usually meaning that there’s a whole lot of [whatever] to immerse oneself in. I mostly bring it up because there’s a famous restaurant chain called Sushi Zanmai that specializes in, obviously, sushi.

And you know, Elma is a water dragon that looks kinda like an eel… I’m just sayin’…

Not really a translation note, but wild that Elma didn’t even touch her parfait. (Not so wild that Fafnir finished his so quickly.) Serious business ahead...

“Genuinely” here is 素直に sunao ni, where the “ni” is used like “-ly” to make sunao work as an adverb. Sunao itself is an interesting word that falls into that category of “simple concept that is often hellish to translate.”

For some context, the first character, 素, is also used in the word 素顔 sugao, which is a face without makeup and 素材 sozai, basically raw ingredients/materials. The second, 直, is used in words like 直線 chokusen, a straight line, or 正直 shoujiki, honest.

Put them together, and you’ve got a word with connotations of directness and being unadorned. The original definition of the word tends toward “simple, natural” in the sense of e.g. life growing up on a rural farm. 

The more common use for it these days is to describe people and their actions. Positively, it can mean something similar to a person being happy to help, or kind of like the opposite of conniving; open, frank, genuine. Less positively, it can mean someone is too trusting and easy to trick into doing things OR someone who is “too honest” and says hurtful things. 

(If it helps: tsundere characters are often described as explicitly not sunao.)

In this case, the idea is that Tohru accepted the invitation easily as-is, without putting any conditions on it, or doing any “ugh, what a pain, do I have to, jeez” rigamarole—she just accepted. Another way you could put it in this case might be “It’s even more unusual for Tohru to accept an invitation like this without a fuss.”

Just to point out the hand on head thing again.

Also just to point out that this is another example of otsukare, as a reminder of how ubiquitous that word is.

And it makes a good place to end on: thanks for reading!

[bonniebird]

Halloween Event

Read early on Wattpad

Read early on AO3

“Great! The blood-sucking Brady Bunch!” - Jacob Black

“Do you have any other emergency werewolf contacts?” - Stiles Stilinski

“Every day is Halloween, isn’t it? For some of us.” - Jace Wayland

“During the day, I don’t believe in ghosts. At night, I’m a little more open -minded.” - Tate Langdon

@joeynihil​ and Peter Rumancek’s Halloween ~ Moodboard

“You don’t know much about magic.” - Nick Scratch

“When you turn to a bat, where do your clothes go?” - Spike

“And now it’s time to send in our cute little secret weapon.” - Ivar Ragnarsson

Halloween with Eric Coulter {Moodboard}

“She used to tell me that a full moon was when mysterious things happen and wishes come true.” - Ivar Ragnarsson  

“What an excellent day for an exorcism.”-  Peter Hale

“Blah blah, vampire emergency, blah” - Rebekah Mikaelson & Theo Raeken

“You are too precious for words, why I could just… eat you alive!”  - Hvitserk Ragnarsson

“So is the devil, Halloween Santa?” - Lucifer Morningstar

“I’ve got the devil in me!” - Lucifer Morningstar 

“I always wonder if it’s better to bury two bodies in one place or spread them around. I’m sure there’s a right answer, but I never want to meet the person who knows it.“ - Maze / Lucifer Morningstar

“What is this guy, Witch-ipedia?” - John Constantine 

“You only have one super power, and it is your breasts.” - Elijah Mikaelson 

“It’s Halloween; everyone’s entitled to one good scare.” - Eric Northman 

“Stop calling it a haunted house. It’s not even scary.“ - Seeley Booth

“I know you’re joking, but on the off chance you aren’t, no.” - Victor Zsasz 

“Every day is Halloween, isn’t it? For some of us.” - Eric Coulter

“Those guys at the impound. Did they really smash my car?” - Dean Winchester

“I’m the guy that’s gonna save your ass.” - Eric Coulter

Halloween with Theo Raeken moodboard - Theo Raeken

“You can’t commit crime on Halloween!” - Barbara Kean

“I do believe in killing the messenger. Know why? Because it sends a message.” - Mick Rory

“It’s so sweet. He looks just like a little entrée.” - Ripper!Stefan Salvatore 

“During the day, I don’t believe in ghosts. At night, I’m a little more open-minded.” - Harley Quinn

“If this is a joke, I’ll kill you!” - Eric Coulter

“So, what can a teen wolf do?” - Cora Hale

“It’s Halloween; everyone’s entitled to one good scare.” - Aziraphale {Good Omens}

“The witches are coming.” - Bonnie Bennett

“I know that you hate Halloween, but stick with me, and I promise you, you will love it.” - Nick Scratch

“Shh, I’m Googling sex spells.”  - Madison Montgomery

“I am, what psychiatrists call, alpha male.”  - Eric Coulter

“Aren’t you worried that, one day, all the forest animals are gonna band together and fight back?” - Jacob Black 

“Bitch, I will eat you!” - Spike {BtVS}

“You know how I think Halloween is for jerks? Well, this Halloween, I was the jerk. I’m sorry about tonight.”  - Leonard Snart

“You really are a witch.” - Jace Wayland

“I’m the guy that’s gonna save your ass.” - Jace Wayland

“I am, what psychiatrists call, alpha male.” - Klaus Mikaelson 

“Vampires pretending to be humans pretending to be vampires … How avant-garde!” - Klaus Mikaelson

“Shh, I’m Googling sex spells.” - Stefan Salvatore 

“Shh, I’m Googling sex spells.” - John Constantine 

“Are you ready for some Halloween fun?“ - Eric Coulter

“She annoyed me, so I killed her and buried her in the yard.” - Eric Coulter 

“I’m supposed to call you first when I find a dead body?”  - Peter Hale 

“Can someone kill him again, please?”  - Kol Mikaelson

“I’ll be a good little witch.” - Theo Raeken

“I just think a lot of undead roaming the streets could lead to problems. For instance, farmers’ markets selling actual farmers.” - Theo Raeken 

“Shh, I’m Googling sex spells.” - Theo Raeken

“There’s a monster outside my room. Can I have a glass of water?” - Jasper Hale

“I am, what psychiatrists call, alpha male.” - Eric Coulter

“You really are a witch.”  - Geralt of Rivia

“Shh, I’m Googling sex spells.”  - Eric Northman

“If this is a joke, I’ll kill you!”  - Barbara Kean

"This is my costume. I’m a homicidal maniac. They look just like everyone else.” - Rosa Diaz

“Well, as someone at a high risk for a spook-related death, thank you.”  - John Constantine

“Dear Diary, a chipmunk asked me my name today.” - Klaus Mikaelson

“I have a meanness inside me, real as an organ.“ - Gina Linetti

“You’re horrific and you are hired.“  - Jerome Valeska

“I am commanding. Calmly, but commanding. No more witchcraft.”  - Maze Smith

“I am, what psychiatrists call, alpha male.”  - Eric Coulter 

“Have you picked out a costume yet?“ - Maze Smith

“Well, as someone at a high risk for a spook-related death, thank you.”  - Harvey Bullock

“I’m just sitting here. Feeling like the devil.” - Damon Salvatore

“Shh, I’m Googling sex spells.” - Eric Northman

“No, you weren’t part of this. Get back over to the loser side, loser.” - Winn Schott

“I need help carving these pumpkins.” - Temperance Brennan

“I’m the guy that’s gonna save your ass.” - Anakin Skywalker

“This is ridiculous! What could be scarier than one of us?” - John Shelby 

“There’s no such thing!” - Elizabeth Swann

“I am, what psychiatrists call, alpha male.” - Gina Linetti

“Bitch, I will eat you!” - Victor Zsasz

“Okay, all right, now. Come on, no one died, alright? Look, there may have been some maiming, okay? A little mangling, but no death! That’s what I call an important distinction.” - Zelda Spellman

“She annoyed me, so I killed her and buried her in the yard.”  - Barbara Kean

“Yeah, well, you being happy isn’t really a big priority of mine, since you stabbed me twenty times with knives.” - Victor Zsasz

“It’s kind of ironic. The more care you put into a murder, the harsher society judges you.” - Jerome Valeska

“No, it’s not! That’s just something mortals say to make themselves feel better.” - Lilith / Madam Satan

“Welcome to my nightmare, I think you’re going to like it.” - Jerome Valeska

“Stop calling it a haunted house. It’s not even scary.” - Ava Sharpe

“I died in a trapeze accident?” - Jake Peralta

“Okay, all right, now. Come on, no one died, alright? Look, there may have been some maiming, okay? A little mangling, but no death! That’s what I call an important distinction.” - Lucien Castle

“It’s Halloweek. I do the full seven days.” - Rosa Diaz 

“If this is a joke, I’ll kill you!” - Jason Todd

“Vampires are real. They’re usually not the cape-wearing, "mwah-hah-hah-ing” types, but rather people with ordinary jobs who just happen to consume blood.“- Jasper Hale

“We came, we saw, we kicked its ass.” - Eric Coulter

“I always wonder if it’s better to bury two bodies in one place or spread them around. I’m sure there’s a right answer, but I never want to meet the person who knows it.“ - Elijah Mikaelson

Roman Godfrey Halloween ~ moodboard

@joeynihil​​ and Sabrina Spellman Halloween ~ Moodboard

“Do you have any other emergency werewolf contacts?”- Derek Hale 

“I need help carving these pumpkins.”- Derek Hale

“Those guys at the impound. Did they really smash my car?” - Dean Winchester

“We came, we saw, we kicked its ass.” - Rebekah Mikaelson & Theo Raeken

“I see something in your future. Something… frightening.“ - Bonnie Bennett

“There’s a monster outside my room. Can I have a glass of water?”

“Every day is Halloween, isn’t it? For some of us.” - Ripper!Stefan Salvatore

“No, it’s not! That’s just something mortals say to make themselves feel better.” - Jace Wayland

“This is ridiculous! What could be scarier than one of us?” - The Mikaelson Family

“If I have to hear doppelgänger one more time, I’m going to have to learn how to spell it.” - Elijah Mikaelson

“In this whole wide wicked world the only thing you have to be afraid of is me.” - Kol Mikaelson

“Clothes make a statement. Costumes tell a story.” - Gina Linetti

“You only have one super power, and it is your breasts.” - Rosa Diaz

"I have never met a vampire personally, but I don’t know what might happen tomorrow.” - Theo Raeken

“You seem to be doing so well without witchcraft.” - Nick Scratch

“I always wonder if it’s better to bury two bodies in one place or spread them around. I’m sure there’s a right answer, but I never want to meet the person who knows it.“ - Halfdan the Black

“You know how I think Halloween is for jerks? Well, this Halloween, I was the jerk. I’m sorry about tonight.” - Lydia Martin

“They’re embarrassed about their spells not working anymore.” - Malia Tate

“Blah blah, vampire emergency, blah” - Bella Swan

“Do you have any other emergency werewolf contacts?” - Peter Rumancek

“Can someone kill him again, please?” - Peter Hale

“I have a heart. I keep it in a jar on my desk.” - Katherine Pierce

“Shh, I’m Googling sex spells.” - John Constantine

"It’s the witching hour somewhere.” - Jughead Jones

“People think if they put on a costume they can just get away with anything they want. Halloween is Christmas for jerks.” - Ray Palmer

“Please tell me you did that for dramatic effect.” - Jacob Black

“Can someone kill him again, please?” - Emmett Cullen

“I must go in. The fog is rising.” - Arman the Dragon

“I knew something came through the portal.” - Ivar Ragnarsson

“Well, we can’t start killing people. We’re getting life back to normal. And killing people isn’t normal, sweetheart.“ - Nora Darhk

“Are you eating raw pumpkin with a spoon?”  - Sweet Pea

“You know what they say about (Town). No one who dies here ever really dies.”  - Jughead Jones

"I want to stab you to death, and then play around with your blood." - Sweet Pea

“I'll come to the party, but I'm not dressing up.”  - Sweet Pea

“I’ve seen enough horror movies to know that any weirdo wearing a mask is never friendly.”  - Sweet Pea

“Hand over the candy, old dude, or we egg your house.”  - Sweet Pea & Jughead Jones

“Time for the real Halloween show to begin.”  - Sweet Pea

“Should I be concerned about you causing me any trouble?“ - Sweet Pea

“Danger doesn’t lurk at every corner. It’s just hanging out, waiting for fear and horror to show up.”  - Jughead Jones

“I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.”  - Sweet Pea

“Time for the real Halloween show to begin.” - Dorcas Night

“She used to tell me that a full moon was when mysterious things happen and wishes come true.” - Dorcas Night

“Who hired you? Who do you work for, the pizza man?” - Damon Salvatore

Halloween with Jughead Jones {Moodboard}

“Are you possessed? Again?” - Stiles Stilinski

“Does my costume look spooky to you?” - Sweet Pea

“I need help carving these pumpkins.“ - Tommy Shelby

“Shh, I’m Googling sex spells.” - Theo Raeken and Rebekah Mikaelson

Halloween with Vanessa Ives {Moodboard}

Halloween with Samantha Stephens  {Moodboard}

Halloween with Toni Topaz {Moodboard}

Halloween with Sweet Pea {Moodboard}

Halloween with Cheryl Blossom {Moodboard}

Halloween with Betty Cooper {Moodboard}

“During the day, I don’t believe in ghosts. At night, I’m a little more open-minded.” - Seely Booth

“Vampires pretending to be humans pretending to be vampires … How avant-garde!” - Eric Northman

“I know that you hate Halloween, but stick with me, and I promise you, you will love it.” - Amaya Jiwe

“You seem to be doing so well without witchcraft.” Clary Fray & Allison Argent

“First rule of witch club: don’t talk about witch club.” - Madam Satan / Lilith

“Who hired you? Who do you work for, the pizza man?” - Zari Tomaz

“She used to tell me that a full moon was when mysterious things happen and wishes come true.” - Peter Rumancek

“Happy Halloween, asshole!“ - Rosa Diaz

“Hello, something scary happening!“ - Kyle Reese

“We sent (Y/N) to the Ghost World to save the day again.” - Allison Argent

“If she realizes that we’re killing people for food and not for God, she might not like us anymore.” - Vampire!Ivar Ragnarsson & Roman Godfrey

“We can have our own Halloween here.” - Roman Godfrey

“You are too precious for words, why I could just… eat you alive!” - Ivar Ragnarsson

“Have you come to sing pumpkin carols?” - Sweet Pea

“How was I to know? It was just floating by.“ - Sweet Pea

“It’s Halloween! Everyone gets a chance to be someone else, let their hair down for awhile.” - Sweet Pea

“You only have one super power, and it is your breasts.” - Elena Gilbert

“Yeah, well, you being happy isn’t really a big priority of mine, since you stabbed me twenty times with knives.” - Sweet Pea

Halloween with Marko {Moodboard}

“I know that you hate Halloween, but stick with me, and I promise you, you will love it.” - Sweet Pea

“I know that you hate Halloween, but stick with me, and I promise you, you will love it.” - David (The Lost Boys)

“I’m the guy that’s gonna save your ass.” - David (The Lost Boys)

“I’m supposed to call you first when I find a dead body?” - Sweet Pea

“Aren’t you worried that, one day, all the forest animals are gonna band together and fight back?” - Sam Emerson

“Good. No fangs yet. You’re doing fine. Your ears aren’t even pointed yet.” - Scott McCall

“You are too precious for words, why I could just… eat you alive!” - David (The Lost Boys)

“Yeah, well, you being happy isn’t really a big priority of mine, since you stabbed me twenty times with knives.” - Brett Talbot

“Are you possessed? Again?” - Peter Hale

“We don’t like you. Now, shut up and help us.” - Eric Northman

“What is this guy, Witch-ipedia?” - Eric Northman

“Shh, I’m Googling sex spells.” - Nick Scratch

“Vampires are real. They’re usually not the cape-wearing, "mwah-hah-hah-ing” types, but rather people with ordinary jobs who just happen to consume blood.“ - Dorcas Night

"This is my costume. I’m a homicidal maniac. They look just like everyone else.” - Tommy Shelby

“Hasn't anyone told you, second hand smoke kills.“ - Prudence Blackwood

“I know you’re joking, but on the off chance you aren’t, no.”  - Klaus Mikaelson

“We sent (Y/N) to the Ghost World to save the day again.” - Theo Raeken & Rebekah Mikaelson

“Just because it's a love story doesn't mean it can't have a decapitation or two.” - Klaus Mikaelson

“You seem to be doing so well without witchcraft.” - Allison Argent & Nick Scratch

“You are too precious for words, why I could just… eat you alive!” - Damon Salvatore

[oh-so-scenarios]

ᴛʜᴇ sᴇʀᴇɴᴅɪᴘɪᴛʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜɪɴɢs...♠| 12

⤖ ᴡʜᴏ ʜᴀs ᴛɪᴍᴇ ғᴏʀ sᴏᴜʟᴍᴀᴛᴇs? Jᴜɴɢ Hᴏsᴇᴏᴋ ɪs ᴛᴏᴏ ʙᴜsʏ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴏғ ʜɪs ᴍᴀғɪᴀ ɴᴇᴛᴡᴏʀᴋ. Hᴇ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴇʀᴇɴᴅɪᴘɪᴛʏ ᴏғ ʜɪs sᴏᴜʟᴍᴀᴛᴇ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ ʜɪᴍ…ʀɪɢʜᴛ?

⤖ Mᴀғɪᴀ Lᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ Hᴏsᴇᴏᴋ x ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ Fᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, sᴏᴜʟᴍᴀᴛᴇ!ᴀᴜ

Warnings: Violence, mentions of death, blood, Smut.

This is a Hoseok POV recap chapter. Everything moves in order, it starts back at their first meeting all the way to chapter 11. A lot of time jumps. 

****Please ignore any errors! (Word Count: 15.6K)

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Hoseok’s POV:

What the fuck? What the fuck? I’m certain that the disdain wasn’t visible on my face, but my injuries were the least of my problem. My eyes stayed focused on the medical degree that hung up on her wall, avoiding her curious gaze.

This week has been a shit fest and it’s gotten worse. 

I let Yoongi convince me that Jungkook was able to handle a heavy mission on his own. I don’t know why I allowed myself to be swayed. I knew he couldn’t handle it. Jungkook has the muscle, but lacks the ability to hide what he's thinking. His face gives a way his emotions, and I should have known better.

We lose contact with him, only to hear some woman say she’s taking him to the hospital? Oh great. I was already trying to gather a plan to explain why this 22 year old man was shot in the side. Along with questions as to why the CEO of Jung Inc was the guardian of this man. It would all unravel as the noisy police dig into Jungkook’s past. 

They’d try to find his parents, and ultimately trace it back to my father. I could see it all unfolding in my head. 

We were left in the dark all night, calling different hospitals to see if that idiotic female had checked him into the ER. We called every hospital within a 60 mile radius and came up empty. I couldn’t sleep that night, worried that our youngest Jungkook had gotten himself into trouble. 

I don’t underestimate women. They are capable of just as much damage as any man, they’re just sneaky about it. I've learned from experience.

At 3 in the morning, Jimin gets a call from Jungkook’s phone and it’s the same woman. She’s a surgeon. Jungkook is one lucky man. I didn’t want much contact with whoever she was. But she did save Jungkook. I decided to give her some money, since she was smart enough to ask no questions. 

But the mission we entered today went left, having things get ugly. We were outnumbered and unprepared, leaving us with injuries. We’re usually prepared enough to tackle issues without violences, but since Seok’s mafia presence has been more low-key, other smaller illegal organizations are acting up. 

I spoke to her for less than 30 seconds, but vaguely remember the tugging of the red string wrapped around my pinky. I groaned my eye at the thing, remembering the few times it’s done that in the past. 

I don’t have time for such foolish things. Soulmate? Who could be cursed enough to be matched with them? The appearance of soulmates almost 200 years ago is explained as something wonderful. A guide from whatever power is above us. I used to believe that bullshit. When I was younger, the thought of a soulmate made my heart race. 

I’d gaze at my parents with twinkling eyes, knowing that I was a product of...love. True love. I hold some resentment and disgust for my younger self. The signs were clearly there. That my mother wasn’t happy, and that my dad was sick. 

I was too focused on my childish things. That was thanks to my mother. I could vomit mentioning any sort of thanks to that woman, but she was the one holding off my father’s training to take his place. 

My older sister, who I haven’t spoken to in years, was sent off to leave with a distant family member. Who knows what she’s up to. 

I see now that the appearance of soulmates was simply the universe’s sick attempt at regaining control over humans. I watch people hopelessly drop everything for this stranger, simply because a red string is linking them together. That won’t be me.

Why do I have to put up with a person because some unseen force decided that we are good together? The stories of meeting your soulmate, falling in love, getting married and starting a family are just that, stories. Such a thing isn’t possible for me. I can barely keep the company of real friends, who am I to keep a lover?

I glanced at her from the corner of my eyes, seeing her rushing back into the living room with a black bag. She starts laying out her tools, and despite the slight shaking of her hands, she seemed to know what she was doing. 

She was afraid. As she should be. But we were desperate. We never had the need for a doctor, since we avoided getting hurt. But here we are. Our youngest Jungkook was worried, staring at his injured hyungs with wide eyes. 

So when he said he knew where we could go, I should have known I would end up at the apartment of the crazy surgeon that was eager to save the injured boy she found in an alleyway. 

The tugging of the red string when I spoke to her on the phone now makes sense. 

I averted my gaze to the white ceiling, trying to figure out what I was going to do. She’s seen our faces, and she knows we’re criminals. I don’t want to deal with another dead body. Plus she lives in an apartment building. I don’t know how close she is with her neighbors, but with an important job such as a surgeon, her absence would be noticed quickly. 

“So who is going first?” She calls out after finishing her set up. When I look at her, she’s staring at the different faces in the room. Her eyes don’t match the tremble in her voice. She looks...uninterested? And annoyed. 

“You’re not going to ask any questions?” I ask. She sighs, being the one to avoid eye contact this time. She fidgets to slip gloves on, and dipping her tool in alcohol.

“I don’t have time to ask questions.” She says harshly, only meeting my gaze for a second. 

Though she’s asking for little information, the guys begin to open their big mouths, giving out more information than needed. They’re digging me into a bigger hole. When it’s out that we’re criminals, the look of dread is hard to miss. I see the wheels turning in her head, and I wonder if she’s thinking of contacting the police. 

She can’t be that stupid right?

Without another word, she calls Yoongi forward first and starts to tend to his wounds. I hiss quietly as the fabric of my shirt rubs against the cut on my chest. The blood had dried, but a slight movement caused a tearing pain. 

I keep my eyes on her while she works. Soulmate huh? I look down at the side of my pinky and notice her initials suddenly printed there. 

The universe did a trash job. A doctor of all people? It’s like a healed wound is being reopened and left to bleed. The longer I stared at her, the angrier I got. At least she’s not ugly, but a doctor? Surgeon? 

I didn’t realize I was glaring at her till Jin hit my leg, making me look his way. He didn’t speak, but the question in his eyes were clear. I could only scoff, before closing my eyes to try to relax.

I heard shuffling of feet as she patched up the next person. She’d run into the kitchen with her tools, do some type of clearing process and come back with clean gloves and tools. When she leaves again, Taehyung leans towards me. 

“Boss, what are you going to do about her?” He keeps his voice low. 

“I say that we hire her.” Jungkook adds, making my eyes snap open. I glare at him but he only grins back.

“Hire her?” I repeat.

“That’s really smart. She could be our personal doctor? Didn’t you say that you wanted to get into black market surgeries? Now you can. That way we could keep any eye on her.” Jin added, giving Jungkook a friendly pat on the head.

Keep an eye on her? I think for a moment. 

“I mean…” Jungkook trails off, “you weren’t thinking of killing her were you? She did save my life.” He stares at me with big doe eyes. I close my eyes again, leaning back to relax. 

“She’s going to help you next boss, you’re the only one left.” Jimin whispers as her footsteps approach us. 

~!~

I march into the headquarters with the others trailing behind me. I set my gun down on the round table and look towards the white board. The plan of our failed mission written in blue marker. 

“So that went to shit.” I mutter to myself, searching for the white board eraser. I am not one to dwell on a failure like that for long. We need to move onto the next mission. As I wiped off the board, the hushed words of the guys behind me were hard to ignore. 

“What? Do you have something to say?” I snap, turning around to face them. The whispers stopped as everyone stared in silence 

“So...your soulmate is a doctor.” Jimin starts, the smile he was trying to hide breaking through. Another silence followed Jimin’s words before Namjoon chimed in. 

“That’s ironic, but she’s cute. Good for you boss.”

My bitter chuckle doesn’t stop the onslaught of congratulations. I couldn’t tell if they were joking or not but I wasn’t in the mood. 

“Were you guys not in her apartment just 30 minutes ago? You know...when I told her I didn’t want any sort of relationship with her? I made it clear that all I can offer her is work.”

For guys who looked battered up an hour ago, their humor was still intact. They knew better than expect happiness from me for something as stupid as soulmates. 

“I think it’s cute,” Jimin voices, smiling widely at me.

“I don’t really care.” Yoongi said calmly, “As long as she doesn’t get in the way of work, it doesn’t matter.” 

“Exactly.” I agreed with Yoongi, “I’ll just have her work for us. She’s already seen our faces and I can’t have her telling anyone about what happened tonight.” 

“But boss,” Namjoon said seriously, pulling out a chair to sit at the circular table. His eyes were serious, and I crossed my arms over my chest, knowing that Namjoon was going to drill me with some serious concerns. 

His brows furrowed and he looked down at the table for a moment as the others also took seats at the circular table. 

“Did you hear bells?” He asked, looking at me with raised eyebrows.

I blink at the unexpected question, my mind moving too slow to process what he said. 

“What?” 

“Did you hear bells when you saw Y/n? They say that if you hear bells when you meet your soulmate, it’s a true love match! That the universe did it’s best work when putting you and your soulmate together.”

I don’t answer him, searching for the dry erase marker to start the plans for the next mission.

“I guess he didn’t.” Namjoon says under his breath. But as I write out the information on the board, a heavy feeling sets on my shoulders.

So I wasn’t going crazy when those bells were ringing in my ears? 

True love? Gross and impossible.

~!~

“Y/n works at Seoul Sky hospital?” I exclaim, staring at the papers Namjoon set on my desk. I had Namjoon dig up some information on Y/n. She was hesitant about taking the offer I laid down, so I need some type of leverage. Maybe she has a criminal record or something she is hiding. 

Of course a woman like her is squeaky clean. She comes from a pretty good family. Her mother was a doctor and her father was a successful businessman. Not crazy money but better than most people. She graduated high school early and went right into pre-med. Grades are good, the record is clean and not deep dark secrets.

But she works at Seoul Sky hospital. That poor excuse of a hospital where my father passed. It’s perfect. I could keep an eye on her from work.

“When is the next chairman’s meeting?” I ask with a smirk on my lips. Namjoon’s ears perk up and he stares back at me with wide eyes. He ran his fingers through his hair, stifling a laugh.

“You’re actually going to attend one? You said you wanted to be an anonymous investor?” 

I didn’t answer Namjoon right away, plotting just what I was going to do when I got to the hospital. 

“Call whoever you need to call and tell them I’m coming to visit the hospital tomorrow. They should have all preparations ready and I’d like to meet with the other directors to discuss the additional funding.” I state, trying to hide the smirk playing on my lips. 

Oh this is gonna be fun! 

And just like I thought, it was fun. I strolled through the hospital, ignoring the long speeches each department head was giving me. I didn’t care. I don't care about this hospital or any of the damn doctors. If I could burn this place to the ground, I would. The land could be used for something more useful. 

Not a hospital that seems to hire incompetent doctors who allow emotions to cloud the work they are doing. I became a director for this hospital in hopes that my mother and that stupid man she ran off with, would return. I don’t know what I will do when they return, but it wouldn’t be a warm welcome. 

We walked through the hallways, patients and nurses all staring as we walked. My instructions of a casual hospital tour were ignored, seeing as I had all the department heads following behind me. Yes, I was tuned out to whatever this man was saying. 

I think his name is Dr. Lee, I could hear the soft whispers of those behind me.

“He’s handsome isn’t he?” One female doctor says. 

“I know right? He seems so intense and studious. Being loved by a man like that is the best.” The other one says. 

Namjoon chuckles form beside me, also hearing the nonsense that those two were saying. I throw a glare at him before bringing my attention back to Dr. Lee.

“Do you think I should try to make conversation with him?” The same doctors whisper. I roll my eyes.

God, I hope they don’t. I am not one for aimless conversation. The last thing I want to do is date a doctor. Actually I don’t want to date at all. My work has become my everything and I can’t see myself making room for anything else. But I can only speak for myself. 

 I wonder how the guys feel about this. If they want to get married, have a family. I haven’t heard them say anything about such things. Hell, I don’t think they’ve even had girlfriends. I don’t expect them to share such information. Years ago I told them to keep personal life things away from work. I didn’t want to hear anything about their personal lives. 

I don’t want to try to rebuild the friendships we had. It’s too late. They were forced to stay by my side, so I’m sure all that’s left is animosity. They do pretty well hiding it, but I can’t say I’m integrated into their friend group. 

You’d think we’d be closer with how often we are together.

My thoughts stopped short as an already familiar figure came into view. She was standing there with a co-worker of hers. Jennie. I did some digging on those close to her here in Korea. It seems that Jennie is her only friend. 

Dr. Lee looked over at the two women, and back at me. The other doctors did the same, my gaze on them catching attention. I noticed Namjoon clear his throat, but my lips turned up into a smirk. I walked ahead of Dr. Lee, closer to Y/n and Jennie. 

“Gossiping is more fun in person!” Jennie exclaims. 

“Oh is it?” I break into their chit chat. Both women grow stiff at my voice, and turn around to bow at a 90 degree angle. I keep my eyes on Y/n who hasn’t recognized me yet. 

“Gossiping is what the doctors of Seoul Sky do?” I question.

I ignore Dr. Lee’s protest to me words and watch Y/n stand straight, only to gawk at me with wide eyes. Oh, her reactions are always so fun. 

She takes a small step back, bumping into Jennie who looks lost. I watch her eyes dart over my face, the concern flashing in her eyes is clear. Even at a time like this, you’re being caring? It was easy to tell that she was checking for the cuts that were on my face 5 days ago. 

But with how she cared to the wounds, there shouldn’t be much scarring. A little powder covered them right up. I wasn’t going to appear in front of people looking cut up.

She looks more official in her white doctor’s coat. I could tell she was official when I saw the work she did on Jungkook, but seeing her in that white coat felt different. A bubbling in my chest made me feel angry at her. That white coat makes me even angrier. 

But I kept the smile on my face, aware of the eyes watching our tense exchange.

Dr. Lee introduced the two doctors to me, and had some pointless banter with Jennie while Y/n tried her hardest to keep the glare off her face. 

I stared back at her, hoping that my message was loud and clear. 

You can’t run from me. 

~!~

“She’s not going to call.” Namjoon said as we walked into the headquarter’s lobby. 

I give him a pointed look, slipping off my green suit coat and draping it onto one of the chairs at the circle table. 

Jungkook, Yoongi and Taehyung also sat at the circular table. Each person was occupied by something else. Taehyung was reading a book, Yoongi typed away on his laptop while Jungkook stared at his dimly lit phone screen. 

Jungkook only looks up from his phone for a second, telling me that he’s distracted by some game. His mouth was gaping open as he concentrated.

“She’ll call. I’m sure she’s a smart girl.” I said to Namjoon, unbuttoning my cuffs and rolling up the sleeves.

“Who are you talking about?” Yoongi questioned, his tone showing little to no interest. 

“Who else would he be talking about?” Taehyung jeers before snickering, “When was the last time Boss talked about a woman that wasn’t just a one night stand?” Taehyung grins at me and goes back to reading. 

“He snatched her up, pulled her into an empty room and pushed her up against a wall.” 

“O,” Jungkook coos, “kinky.” 

I roll my eyes at the youngest’s cheeky smile. 

“She’s dragging this out. I already have the operation place set up, and I’m already searching for her assistant. I gave her 2 days. If she’s smart, she’ll call. It would be a pain to get rid of her.” 

Jungkook sets his phone on the table, a pout of defeat playing on his lips. 

“Why don’t you just leave her be? I don’t think she’ll tell anyone. Plus you can just keep an eye on her at the hospital? There is no need to drag her into black market work.”

Everyone looks at Jungkook as he shrugged after expressing his opinion, ‘You would just be exposing her to more stuff if you bring her into work with you.” 

I stared at Jungkook in silence, not sure what to say. He has a point. I could just keep an eye on her from the hospital. I know where she leaves, I know where she works and I know all her friends. She can't escape. 

So...why do I need her here again?

“It’s okay if you just want her close, we won’t judge you.” Yoongi says in the same uninterested tone. 

“It’s not that.” I defended myself.

Yoongi shrugs in a sluggish manner, “It’s okay if you want to keep her around. She’s your soulmate after all.”

I glare at Yoongi for a moment, “I’ve had black market surgeries on my to-do list. So I’m killing two birds with one stone.”

“There’s no urge to be near Y/n? You know that soulmate connection?” Taehyung asks, folding the page he was reading and closing the book.

I feigned some deep thought before shaking my head. Connection? I didn’t feel anything towards her. I was surprised to see that red string connect to someone else, and after that was a sense of dread and anger. 

“I think I’ve had better connections with brick walls.”

The fake hisses of pain are followed by comments. 

“Heartless!”

“Ouch!”

I walked around to one of the smaller desks that were across the room. I grabbed a familiar grey folder and placed it on the circle table, opening it to see what was in there. 

The folder was thick, and had things I had to take care of. No matter how much work we did, I don’t think there’d ever be a day this folder would be empty. 

I remember thinking why was my father always so busy? He always said he had no time, and at a certain point, I thought he was lying. I often misunderstood it being an excuse to avoid doing something with me. 

My father was present in my life, and he was a kind man. Too kind. He taught me to give people chances, pertaining to things outside of work. Although my father wasn’t obvious about his work, I’d say he was more violent. 

He was harsher. The slightest glimpse of weakness would be eliminated. When it came to work, he didn’t allow room for mistakes or failure. Yet, he was caring and understanding with the family, and all things outside of work. He stupidly trusted my mother 100%. Would tell me they were the world’s best example of true love. 

Guess he and my other were on different pages.

I scanned over all the items that needed to be completed. The Charity Gala robbery, recapture of money from a bad trade off,  some drug trades in Japan and a cop that has been snooping around asking about Seok. Those are the main focus as of now. At least those are the things that will require either my attention or the whole team. 

Each one of the guys have things they do separately. Those usually go smoothly.

I groan and run my fingers through my hair, “Where is Jimin?” I ask.

“He finished that one debt collection and headed home. He said he was done for the week.” Namjoon said. 

“Call him and Seokjin up. Tomorrow is gonna be a busy day. We’re gonna go take care of the Ryu deal, and if Y/n is as predictable as I think she is, she’ll call me tomorrow.”

“Or she’ll run off to a different country.” Namjoon says under his breath. 

I almost chuckle at the comment, knowing Y/n couldn’t be that idiotic. 

~!~

“Mr. Ryu, I really don’t want to do this!” I yelled as I tucked my gun into the waistband of my pants. I stepped over the dead and injured bodies of his men, while Jimin and Yoongi flanked me, with their guns pointed at the older man. 

He stood with his back pressed against the wall of his own hideout. They’re a small organization with strong connections to Russia. I took a risk working with them, and it blew up in my face. The trade off is what landed Jungkook with a bullet grazing his side. It was supposed to be a one man hand off, but Mr. Ryu brought all his men and ran off with the money. 

He had to know we’d come for him sooner or later. 

We were able to take out all his men in a silent manner. He let his guard down, not truly knowing who he was messing with. He didn’t know he was dealing with Seok’s organization. It was a test of loyalty and he failed. Blood was starting to pool on the concrete floor. Harsh and shallow breaths from a few men who hadn’t died yet was all that could be heard.

“I have the money! I’ll get you the money!” His pleas echo through the warehouse, and I could hear the way it’s straining his vocal chords. His thin grey hair was unruly. Evidence of his fingers racking through it repeatedly. His suit is disheveled and stained.

I stopped my slow walk towards the man, leaving me about 5 yards from him. Yoongi and Jimin didn’t stop their slow parade with their guns up.

I sighed, “This could have been easier if you did that the first time!” 

“Boss!” Someone calls from behind us. I don’t have to turn around to know it’s Namjoon.

“We found the money! It’s all there.” Mr. Ryu doesn’t leave my line of sight, but I nod in response.

“See!” Mr. Ryu rushes out desperately, “The money is there! Take it! It was never taken out of the suitcase!” 

I click my teeth and fake disappointment, “I don’t leave loose ends Mr. Ryu. You’ve already seen my face.”

His body trembles in fear, his face growing red with every second, “Who are you?!” 

“Why tell a dead man such important information?” I mutter taking a step forward when my phone dings. I pause for a moment, kicking myself for not silencing it.

I don’t miss the eye roll from Yoongi, “Gosh boss, you can’t silence your phone?”

“He’s been waiting for a call from his lovely Y/n,” Jimin jokes, re-gripping his gun.

I dug into my pocket to see a number I didn’t recognize texting me.

[8:34 PM] Unknown: Hello ...?

“Of course he answers it at a time like this!” Seokjin shouts. It seems he’s standing further behind us with Namjoon. 

“Now is not the time!” 

It has to be Y/n. This is my personal phone number, and she’s the only one who’d have it. 

[?:?? PM] Hoseok: Be at this address in 20 minutes. 

Due to the bad service, the text message takes it’s time sending. I shove it back into my pocket and stride towards the man.

“Let’s be quick about this old man.” I slip my fingerless leather gloves tighter on my hand. 

“Please don’t!” He slides down the wall and lands on his butt so he’s sitting. I kick him in the gut, and he hunches over. I take the chance to place one hand on his forehead, and another on his chin. I swiftly made a turning motion, snapping his neck.

 His body goes limp and falls over. 

“Let’s go.” I call out just as my phone dings again. We start leaving the warehouse, and I dig into my pocket. 

[8:43 PM] Unknown: Could we do this tomorrow?

Does she think this is a hair appointment? Does she not understand what she is getting into?

~!~

I watch Y/n move around the operation room and I think I’m seeing excitement? She giggles and let her fingers graze the tables. Her eyes are lighting up with joy. What a weird one. But this is the first time I’ve seen just an expression on her face. 

“This is the type of stuff you get excited about?” I tease.

To my surprise, she smiles at me. A genuine smile. It’s like the fear from earlier was non existent. Is she not worried being alone with me? She doesn’t know anything about me! I could be an awful guy, well I am a bad guy, but I’ll never force myself on someone. 

She doesn’t know that, but here she is. Leaving herself open and vulnerable to me.

“We all can’t be making big money like you, Hoseok. How can you live life if you can’t appreciate the small things?”

She wasn’t expecting a reply from me, seeing as she turned her attention back to the operation room.  She starts rummaging through the cabinets.

“Fresh and new tools, all with the potential of helping and saving someone. It’s thrilling.” She mumbles.

Is it? I think. 

“...to me.” She adds as if she could hear my thoughts. 

“You’ll have an assistant--”

“An assistant?” 

I hate when people cut me off. Let me finish my sentence. 

“Yes. She isn’t a surgeon like you, however she does know about lab work and pharmaceutical things…”

I go through the rest of the details. All the things I can remember from the file Jimin handed me earlier today. I pretended I didn’t see her eyes moving from up and down my body. 

It can’t be helped, I’m an attractive man. 

I take this time to get a good look at her face, feeling like I haven’t really looked at her time now. 

She’s not ugly, that’s for sure. 

“You are a part of this team now, I will hold you to the same standard as the others. I will treat you the same as the others. Do not--” She cuts me off again. 

She’s going to make this a habit. 

“--expect any special treatment because you are my soul mate. You don’t have to say that every day Hoseok. I’m not stupid.” 

Those puppy dog eyes she was giving me that first night we met told me otherwise. She has to be one of those girls that has a skewed preselection of her soulmate. Fairytale ending with Prince Charming. That unrealistic expectation is why people act so stupidly.

“Isn’t that how that soulmate thing works?” I retorted, “Once someone finds their soulmate they lose the ability to think straight? They throw out common sense and only make decisions based on their selfish wimps and wants pertaining to their soulmates?” 

A bitter aftertaste grows on my tongue after speaking those words. She’s quiet for a while. I watch her eyebrows scrunch up in confusion before she speaks again, “W-well that’s not me!” 

“Do not worry about any sort of feelings getting in the way. I am not swayed so easily.”

Sure. 

~!~

Bugging Y/n at working is starting to be something I look forward to. Her reactions are too funny. The grimace on her face as she slowly stand s to her feet and bows like the rest of her co-workers, making me want to laugh. 

You can always tell what she’s thinking by her facial expression. I dropped by the hospital for some paperwork, and decided to see if I could find Y/n around. 

Just to mess with her of course. She’s the one that wanted me to keep my distance at her workplace, so I have to do the opposite. 

“Are you still mad at me?” I say, noticing the curious looks from her co-workers. 

“Hello Mr. Jung.” She replies. 

“Hello, doc.” I take in her standing there in that awful white jacket, quite different from how she was dressed at headquarters.

“You really clean up nice for work.” I grin at her and manage to get a few light jabs at her before letting the cat out the bag in front of her co-workers. I know the gossip will spread around the hospital, and it’s for the best. I don’t want any of our conversations being questioned. 

If people see us talking at the hospital, they’ll just see it as flirting and a quick couple’s chat. 

After I took a seat, her friend Jennie was carrying most of the conversation. Y/n would just look at me with distaste and sigh, leaning back in her seat. It’s not till Jennie brings her back into the conversation that Y/n says something. 

The true displeasure Y/n was showing me came off as a cute couple bantering to Jennie. 

“Don’t let Y/n’s awful behavior scare you away!” Jennie exclaims. I lean in closer to Y/n, forgetting just how close out chairs were to each other. 

Oh, she smells amazing. Odd thing to notice but, when I got in close enough I caught a whiff of something pleasant. I placed a hand on her knee, causing her body to tense up and her eyes to widen.

“Thankfully, I don’t scare too easily.” I joke back to Jennie. 

Has...has Y/n never felt a man’s touch? She froze up like an inexperienced teenager. Oh this is too good! I move my hand up an inch and hear her let out a shaky exhale. I look at her and start to caress her thigh with my thumb. She shivers. 

I announce that I’m leaving and decide to really add the cherry on top. Since half of the lunchroom was already watching, might as well give them a show. My hand smoother slides from her thigh to the small of her back. I lean in closer, bringing my lips to her ear. 

Her warmth is...welcoming. 

“Doc,” I whisper. I inhale softly, taking in the alluring perfume she has on. 

“I’ll need you tonight.” I say a little louder. The gasps from the women listening in was exactly what I wanted. She shivers again. 

“Oh wow, was that a little tremble I saw?” 

She rolls her eyes and I almost want to laugh at the animated action.

“Doc, these little reactions of yours are so amusing...I can’t help but mess with you like this.” I reason.

“I can’t stand you.” She hisses back.

Oh if only she knew how that white coat of hers makes my skin crawl. I can’t stand it or her. But at least she’s proving herself useful.

I am barely out of the lunchroom when my phone buzzes in my pocket. Why does it feel like I can still smell Y/n? Like she left a lingering print on me.

I answer my phone, “Hello?” 

“We have a problem!” Taehyung shouts into my ear. I wince at the volume of his voice and quickly look at my surroundings. No one is really looking my way, so I lower my voice and continue down the hallway. 

“What’s up?” 

“The cop! The cop that has been trying to find info on Seok! We found her!” 

I raised my eyebrows, “That’s great Taehyung! What’s wrong with that?”

“She’s the one we hired as Y/n’s assistant.”

My power stride stopped immediately. Just great! Sometimes I wonder if my father made this many mistakes! How could that have gotten past me?

“We did a background check and everything. She was clean.” I said through clenched teeth. 

“She took on someone else’s identity! We did all we could! But at least we sniffed it out before she met you in person. What should we do?” 

I started my stroll down the hallway again, checking for anyone who may be listening in. 

“Do you have her? Like in your custody?” 

Taehyung is quiet, “Should we?” He drags out.

“Well she’s already seen your faces! She’s seen Namjoon! Namjoon has been seen as the bodyguard for Jung Hoseok, the CEO of Jung Funding.” I groan, pinching my nose and whispering the next order. 

“You gotta get her. I don’t know how, but you have to before they connect the dots. We don’t know how many team members she has helping her. But get her and bring her to the headquarters. We’ll have to get information out of her, then tie the loose end.” 

“Got it!” Taehyung says and the line goes dead. 

My dumbass forgot that I also told Y/n to come to headquarters, so we were standing there later that night discussing the black market surgeries she would be performing. Her shock to the tasks was confusing. Did she think she’d just stay around and patch us up? We don’t get hurt too often! If she’s gonna be around, I’m using her to her full potential.

“Oh the others are back!” She whips around to see Jungkook poking his head in. My eyes went wide just as Jungkook’s did. Fuck! They’re bringing the cop in! I hope they knocked her out. If she starts calling for help with Y/n here, it’ll make things more difficult. 

“Jungkook, is everything ok--” I reach out and spin Y/n around to face me. I pull her close to my chest. I have both hands on her shoulders and feel her tense up again. Is it that she’s never felt a man’s touch, or is it just me that she stiffens up like that.

“W-what was that about?” 

I told her to keep her eyes on me and she does. The look in her eyes catches me off guard. They're not fearful, but they don’t hold her regular annoyance. 

I ignore most of the questions she asks me as the guys the officer down the other hallway. I tuned her out some time ago but when I finally looked at her she said, “Oh wow.” 

“You seem to forget what my line of work is.” I jeer. I remove my hands from her shoulders and step back.

“I forget just how real your job is at times.” 

~!~

I strolled into the blue room, wearing some medical gloves. My eyes laid on Jiae, the undercover cop who was tied to the blue metal chair. 

“I forgot that I told Y/n to drop by.” I explained, seeing the questions in their eyes.

“It’s cool, we weren’t trying to interrupt your little date.” Jimin cooed, smiling widely. 

Of course the teasing begins. 

“It wasn’t a date. I was giving her the procedure files. “ I say, before turning to the woman who watched my every move in terror. 

Her mouth was covered with duct tape, and her eyes were bloodshot. The few moments of eye contact shook fear into her. She couldn’t have been any older 35. Her straight black hair was a mess, and sweat dewed on her forehead. Her eyes welled up with tears but it didn’t move me. 

My eyes moved back to Jimin who was slipping on his own gloves. It must be scary for Jiae. Watching these men she does know calmly put on gloves while chatting. She has no idea what to expect. 

“Make sure Y/n finds an assistant.” I muttered. Namjoon who was leaning against the wall scratched the back of his head.

“Why don’t we ask that Jennie friend of hers?” He suggests. I simply hum and nod, walking up to Jiae who trembled. 

“You almost slipped past us!” I yelled, grinning at her. I reach forward to peel the tape off her mouth. I do it slowly, and she exhales deeply before coughing. 

“Why are you looking for Seok?” I stood staring at the panting women.

“I-I can give you money if that’s what you want? Tell me what you want! Whatever it takes, I have people who can get it for you! You don’t have to protect Seok! I’m just trying to get to him!” She begs, rocking her body a bit. The ropes around her arms and legs must really burn.

“Who sent you here?” I asked another question, stepping even closer, “There is nothing you can offer us! I just want to know why you’re here and who sent you.”

She gulps, “I-I can’t tell you.” She moves her focus to the ground and I try not to snicker. This night is dragging out too long. I’m already in a bad mood, and I have more work awaiting me. I don’t have the energy to interrogate kindly. 

“Why are you here?” I growled again. 

“We’re just trying to find Seok! Please I won’t tell anyone.”

“Who is ‘we’?” Namjoon speaks up this time, “the FBI? CIA?” 

Jiae hangs her head in defeat, “We’re just a small detectives office! It was a stupid move and we weren’t aware of who we were up against. It took months to get this close to Seok, and I know you’re just following commands.”

“Ms. Jiae,” I call sarcastically, “I don’t know if you’re aware but outsiders don’t get to see Mr. Seok and live. Do you not know that?”  I cock my head, wondering if I should just let Namjoon take control. I’m at my wits end.

“I don’t even want to find him anymore! So if you could please--”

“But I’m right here.” I pout, and watch the realization grow on her face.

~!~

I walked into the lobby of headquarters to hear Jaehyun and Jennie yelling at each other. I tried my best to keep from groaning in annoyance. I knew their relationship before bringing Jennie to work with Y/n, but I was hoping they could overcome it. Jaehyun won’t be working with us for long. He’ll help us with this mission and probably with forging documents in the near future. 

My eyes settled on Y/n. I could only see the back of her head as she slumped back in her seat. She wasn’t talking,only watching the couple as they threw insults back and forth. 

I haven’t seen her in a few days. It seems things have gotten busy at the hospital, which is the only reason I didn’t bother to grill her for missing the meeting I called her to a few days ago. 

Unfortunately, I have become quite aware of her absence. Her glares and her teasing remarks have been a part of my everyday routine. It's obvious that she’s tired, so she'll fall asleep in no time. I

I took a seat beside Y/n, and she looked at me. She still smiles at me, though it doesn’t meet her tired eyes. She beams at me, and though she looked exhausted, it was clear that she was happy to see me. 

She’s...happy to see me?

“You look tired.” I said quietly. I wasn’t trying to be rude, but rather made an observation. Y/n understood, seeing as she laughed.

“Just say you missed me so we can move forward.” Her shoulders shook as she giggled, and the corner of my lips twitched, a smile threatening my lips. 

I guess...I missed her? 

Wait! No! I just noticed how quiet it was without her. Y/n was always bubbly and talkative compared to me. The guys love having her around. She draws out conversation and makes the gloomy atmosphere bearable. 

I take a look at the files spread out on the table, and tell Jennie and Jaehyun to settle down. The upcoming mission is important, and ends everyone’s part to work. Everyone including Y/n. 

I sat at home, wondering if it was smart to bring Y/n into this. I said from the beginning that I wasn’t going to involve her in anything that wasn’t black market medical work, but could it be avoided? 

The whole hospital believes we are a couple, and with the Charity Gala coming up, it wouldn’t make sense to not take Y/n as a date. However, I don’t want to parade around with her on my arm, as she has no idea what is going on behind the scenes. I at least respect her to not be so rude. 

Y/n shifted in her seat, leaning closer to me. She was paying attention to everything I was saying, but the expression was unreadable. Most of the meeting went well while I laid down everything in detail. I let Jin take over as he broke down more details of the mission but my attention was divided as /n moved closer and closer to me. 

Her head dropped on my shoulder and glanced at her to see her eyes closed. She fell asleep. I snicker looking back down at the document in my hand. My senses were overtaken by her shampoo and the light traces of perfume. She was warm, and my shoulder was growing hot. 

I stared at the printed words on the paper for a few seconds when I recognized the silence that surrounded me. Why isn’t Jin still talking?

My attention moves to the quiet people at the table. They were staring at me like I had two heads. My face scrunched up in annoyance and I glared at each person. I’m going to pretend i don’t know what’s going on.

“What?” I asked, my gaze moving to each face around the table. I noticed Jungkook who gave me a knowing smile, his cheeks lifted high as he grinned that bunny-like smile of his. The meeting went on, and soon Jennie was also asleep, her work schedule being as crazy as Y/n’s.

My eyes couldn’t help but stare at her and Jaehyun for a moment. The way Jennie naturally leaned on him, looking so comfortable and trusting of him. Jaehyun received all her affections, throwing an arm around her as she hid her face in his neck.

That’s probably the type of relationship Y/n was looking for. A person she can trust in and feel completely comfortable around. 

But...I don’t think I can think of a moment in which Y/n didn’t trust me. It’s weird. Maybe she doesn’t really understand how my job is?

“Vitals.” I heard Y/n mumble in her sleep before she shifted, her hand landing itself on my thigh. I tensed at the movement, my eyes staring at her hand as if it could move it away with my gaze.

It was now Yoongi that was voicing some concerns about the mission but I couldn’t focus. Her hand was palm resting carelessly on my lower thigh near my neck. I glance at her hand again and my own hand was itching, 

I wonder if…

I look back up at the papers in my hands and set it on the table as Yoongi continues to speak. I slowly brought my hand up to rest on my knee, not too far from her hand. My eyes move from Yoongi speaking to my hand. 

Maybe…..

I slowly inch my hand towards her, some of my fingers brushing her hand. As if Y/n could sense what I was doing, she sighs and readjusts herself, her hand moving to fall right on top of mine. I tune back into the conversation, the guys too focused on their points and opinions that they didn’t notice my attention was else. I shifted in my seat, sitting up a bit and Y/n squeezed my hand.

She moved with me, adjusting to me and sighing. This is...warm. She is warm and not so bad.

I look over at Jaehyun and Jennie. Jennie was still knocked out and leaning on Jaehyun. I wonder if...Y/n and I look as natural as they do.

The possibility of a real meaningful relationship has felt so unneeded and out of reach but….this is nice.

But I couldn’t meet the expectations that she’d have. Plus, doctors are crooked. Doctors like to say they became doctors to help people, but oftentimes they have the worst personalities. They have the biggest egos. 

~!~

“Boss, have fun!” Jungkook cooed. I rolled my eyes at him, looking over the last of the plans. I was at the HQ lobby and we all stood around dressed according to our roles in the mission. The car waited outside, but Jungkook was bouncing around me with a smile.

“This is technically a date!” He chimed. 

“I doubt Y/n sees it that way.” I replied. Jungkook clasps my shoulder and grins.

“I actually agree but, I think you should enjoy yourself tonight. We have the mission under control, just worry about showing Y/n a good time. I think you’ll realize that a future with Y/n isn’t so outrageous. You like her.” 

My eyes widen, “I like Y/n?” I laugh and look up at the ceiling in disbelief.

“Never that.” I added.

“It’s okay to admit it! I think you deserve to have someone for yourself! You can’t go around frowning for your whole life. The universe--”

“Don’t talk to me about the fucking universe.” I hiss. My harsh tone doesn’t phase Jungkook, he continues to speak.

“The universe doesn’t make mistakes!”

“You’re still saying that?” Namjoon chimed in as he walked towards us. 

I scoffed, “Jungkook is young, so he thinks it’s that simple.”

“It is that simple!” Jungkook fussed. It was quiet for a moment as everyone moved about. 

“Boss.” Jungkook called. His tone was different, the beaming smile was gone and a smirk sat on his lips. I was surprised by the change of tone from him.

I raised an eyebrow at him and he ran his fingers from his hair.

“Since you don’t like Y/n...can I ask her out?” The challenging tone had me staring at the younger man seriously. He stared back, his smirk growing wider.

“You’re not going to wait for your soulmate?” My voice was low, and undermining.

“Boss, do you not listen to me when I talk? I told you I’ve found her already, and she has a boyfriend, but that’s a different situation. You don’t like Y/n...so I can pursue her?” 

The tension was staggering, and the air grew heavy as we stared at each other in silence. Jungkook didn’t back down, cocking his head to the side. He’s serious?

“Come on Kook!” Jimin laughed, putting himself between us, “Boss, I’m sure he’s joking.” 

Jimin’s intrusion wasn’t enough to make us break eye contact. 

“You’re joking right?” Jimin says with a bright smile. Everyone had stopped what they were doing and watching Jungkook. Jungkook has never seriously challenged me on something. 

At this point, Jungkook is probably closer to Y/n than I am, so this development of feelings shouldn’t surprise me. 

Jungkook breaks the staring competition and smiles that normal gummy smile of his, “Of course I’m joking!” He exclaims. A unified sigh of relief is heard in the room, but not from me. The others let out nervous chuckles, but I narrow my eyes at Jungkook who’s smile doesn’t meet his eyes. 

The bunny smile is there, but the challenging look in his eyes remains.

That conversation with Jungkook was on my mind on the drive to pick up Y/n. Jaehyun trailed behind me with a different car. 

“Since you don’t like Y/n...can I ask her out?” 

He looked me right in the eyes and said that. I do forget that there are other men that have eyes for Y/n. That stupid Dr. Lee at the hospital has made it apparent that my presence didn’t deter him. I keep saying soulmates are a foolish notion, so when Y/n decides to move on, I’ll be okay right?

A strange discomfort is building in my chest as I think about it. A vision of Y/n’s smiling face appears in my mind and I sigh, almost defeated. I press my hand to my chest, the hammering of my heart clouding my thoughts.

“What the fuck.” I mutter to myself. 

“Sir,” The driver calls, “We’ve arrived.” I look around to see that we were in front of Y/n's apartment complex. 

When she makes her way out I can’t help but stare. I just knew that dress would be perfect for her. You’d think it was made for her and her alone. Her hair was styled simply and the make up was done simply.

She is...beautiful. 

Fuck. 

My eyes move along her body, from head to toe and once again. The slit on the dress with the draping neckline that showed just a little cleavage had me feel some type of way. 

I looked back to her face and wondered how my face looked at this moment because it felt like my throat was drying up and my hands were getting sweaty. 

I should tell her how good she looks. I should say ‘you look pretty’ cause saying beautiful would be too much right?

You look pretty! 

Ugh, what the hell Hoseok, are you a middle school boy? It’s Y/n! Doc! Just say something before this silence gets weird.

“We’re matching!” She announces, smiling widely. 

The corner of my lips twitch up, fighting a smile. When we’re in the car I’m speaking with Namjoon on the phone as he explains that things are set in place. Y/n sits beside me, not saying anything. She stares out the window unaware of my lingering gaze.

When I’m off the phone she makes some comments about my favorite color being green. She’s not wrong and It looks good on her so why not?

Strolling past the flashing cameras and into the venue, we were met by different people all turning their heads our way. My hand rested on the small of her back. I watched her eyes dart around the place at the rich people and celebrities that were about. This wasn’t her type of crowd and it was clear. 

I keep her pressed against me, noticing the goosebumps on her shoulders. Her chest is rising and following quickly. Of course she’s nervous. It’s already an intimidating event but also knowing about the crime that will take place? I’m sure she’s stressed.

I smiled at her actions, as it reminded me of a nervous puppy.

“Hey, look at me for a second.” I whispered. When she looked my way, her jaw dropped open for some reason. I smiled wider at the beautiful woman staring up at me.

“Look like you’re happy to be with me.” 

She beamed at me, that same smile of hers. She doesn’t have to pretend does she? Am...am I pretending?

Maybe I’m just pretending that this isn’t going to go up in flames like it did with my parents. Maybe I’m pretending like she didn’t have heart eyes for me since the beginning. I mean I am the soulmate she has always been waiting for. So when that spark is gone, would she still smile at me like this?

I take my hand off her back and she takes hold on my arm.

We weren’t left alone for long, different company executives approaching me often. Y/n listened patiently and would make small talk with jokes and puns. What was she nervous about? She’s a natural at this. I can’t even call her a social butterfly, she’s just a people person.

As I introduced her to some executives, she smiled beautifully and my arm naturally wrapped around her waist and held her close to me. We stood and spoke with quite a few people. I found myself glancing over at her every once in a while. She’d be too focused on the conversation to notice my stare, but when she did, she’d simply smile at me then tune back into the conversation. 

My eyes scanned the black, catching Jimin who was in disguise. I knew everything was going smoothly since I hadn’t gotten any text messages or phone calls since we arrived.

These two women were talking my ears off while Y/n tried to hide the glare on her face. She’s been throwing looks at women who eyed me. I chuckled as I watched the women shying away as Y/n put her intimidating gaze on them. 

A sigh sounded from Y/n, making the two female executives stop talking to look at Y/n. I used this time to make the women stop their ogling at me in front of Y/n.

“Are you tired already, baby?” I whispered in her ear. The name made her look at me in surprise. The close proximity of our face had to be making the female executives uncomfortable. Her lips parted and her eyes flickered down to my lips so quickly that I don’t think she knows she’s done it.

Fuuuuucccck. 

The night doesn’t end in the most peaceful. Even though the mission went well, I let my anger get to me.

“For once...it felt like you didn’t hate me.” She says honestly.

We’re standing on the balcony, looking up at the dim stars in the style. Y/n is a bit drunk, and her honest thoughts start to fall out her mouth. 

I’m left staring at the side of her face while she stays keyed in on the stars. The small smile on her lips did lessen the effect of her words. She sounded genuinely hurt.

“I don’t hate anyone.” I argued. And well that was a lie. I hate my mother and that stupid man. But Y/n thinks I hate her?

“Doc, I don’t hate you.” 

“But you hate soulmates and doctors.” She accused me. 

“Who told you that?” I snapped.

Y/n rolls her eyes, “What does it matter? I got the message.” 

What the hell? She speaks like she has me figured out. I’m not the most easy going and open but to hate her? She genuinely believes that? How can she tell me about my feelings? What cause I’m not the fucking prince charming she expected.

“What about you doc?” I start “Do you really like me?”

“Yes.” She says sternly. 

“You really like me? Or  do you like the image of a soulmate? The idea of a soulmate is what you like. I am not the picture perfect guy you dreamed of, stop trying to put me in that box.”

She looks at me, scrutinizing my face. I watched her eyes move all across my face, taking in every facial feature of mine. Her eyes were big, and honest. I know she isn’t lying to me. What does she have to gain from me? Y/n hasn’t hidden a single thing from me. 

“I do admit, I liked the idea of a soulmate. I liked the idea of meeting someone and just connecting instantly and understanding each other.” She said sternly. It’s just as I expected but I’m disappointed to hear her say it.

“My point proven.” But Y/n didn’t back down, still staring up at me.

“You were not what I expected. Your lifestyle is frightening and dangerous. You are cold, calculating, hard to read and sometimes scary. You’ve probably killed people and I’m sure committed many crimes. Hell, I sat here and played ‘couple of the year’ while the others robbed artwork.”

“Oh--” A voice said from the entryway. We both turn our attention to Jungkook who stared on with wide eyes. He wasn’t sure what he had walked in on, but he was hesitant to speak. The atmosphere was heavy and uncomfortable. Ugh, of all the times for him to walk in. 

The soft and caring look in Y/n’s eyes when she saw the boy was annoying to me. 

“Noona, I’ll be taking you home.” He announced, “Just let me know when you’re ready to go.” Jungkook’s eyes flickered between us, wondering what conversation had happened before he walked in.

“Thank you Jungkook,” Y/n’s voice wavered, “I’ll be right there.” She dismissed him. Jungkook gave me a pointed look and left. 

Y/n sighed, pushing her body off the ledge and standing straight. She smoothed her dress, and brushed off any possible dirt. 

She looked back up at me and flashed a sad smile, “Despite all those things. Your lifestyle, your crimes and your cold attitude ...I still like you.” She stared right into my eyes, that same soft and caring look she had for Jungkook before was there but...there was something else. 

‘Heart eyes’ the guys have been calling it. It’s as clear as day. 

“Really?” I laughed a bit to hide my discomfort. The way she gazed at me had me feeling...vulnerable. 

“Truly.” She confirmed, not daring to look away from me.   Y/n stepped closer to me and I watched closely, looking down as one of her hands found mine. She held my hand, stretched her head up and put her lips to my cheek. 

She just….kissed me? On my cheek? 

“Tonight was fun. Thank you Hoseok.” With that, she spun around and made her way back inside. Probably going to find Jungkook so she could go home. 

My heart is pounding in my ears. I can’t think straight. She kissed my cheek? She really really likes me? 

A person with such a sick job? I’m a fucking criminal! Did she forget? I kill people! I lie and steal! 

Who the hell would want to stay with a man like me? Like my father? My mother’s harsh words to me still sting like they were yelled at me yesterday.

●  ●  ●

I stood by my father’s hospital bed where he laid weak and fable. As a 16 year old there is only so much I can do while my mom yells at my father. My eyes darted to the doors behind my mother’s raging figure. Where is the hospital staff?

“Mom, what are you doing? What are you talking about? I don’t understand! Why would you be leaving?” 

She stared at me with tearful bloodshot eyes. Her face was red and she breathed heavily.

“Son, your mother--” My father’s words were cut off.

“I’m leaving Hoseok. If you don’t want out of this horrible way of life, then fine! I won’t subject myself to this! I found my soulmate, a normal man with a normal job.” She was yelling while fighting back tears. I stagger back, looking between her and my father.

“Y-you guys aren’t soulmates?” My voice comes out quietly and my eyes sting with ears. The sadistic laughter that left my mother’s mouth was chilling.

“I pity the woman who’s soulmate is a mafia man! This life is draining! I’m tired! In the start I thought love was enough but it just isn’t! It’s become a burden!” She threw her hands up in exhaustion. 

“Hoseok, if you choose this life just know that you don’t deserve a soulmate. Don’t put someone through the torture of not knowing if their husband will come home! Or dealing with random mysterious trips! You’re better off alone in this type of work? Do you hear me Hoseok? When you find your soulmate, run the other way! For her sake!” 

~!~

I sit in the hotel bed, staring up at the ceiling with my phone pressed to my ear. I am in Japan for not only underground work but investments. It’s been a pretty busy trip, and all while I’ve been here Y/n was clouding my mind. 

In the meeting with Jisoo about the Japanese part of our mafia network, Y/n was dancing in the back of my mind.

I know damn well it was wrong of me to travel without telling her. It’s been a week since I’ve seen her and I’m itching to see her again. I don’t know what I'm going to do or say when I see her, so I’ll figure it out when the time comes. It’ll be another 4 days before I’m back in Korea. So when I saw the missed call from Y/n I thought something bad happened, but the simple sound of her voice made my body tingle. 

Fuck my life. 

What am I gonna do about this? I think I’m getting a hard on just at the thought of her laying in her bed as she speaks to me. 

“Ok, cool. Umm...how much longer are you staying in Japan?” She asks softly. I joke to lighten the mood. It was probably only me who was feeling so heavy. It’s been a dry spell, and I can’t get myself to call one of my usually booty calls.

“Why?” I grin, “Do you miss me?” I chuckle knowing a swift denial from her when she speaks in a breathy voice.

“I miss you a lot.” She’s doing this on purpose, she has to be. I shift in my bed, hissing under my breath as I felt my dick getting hard. 

Oh she misses me huh? She’s probably laid up in her bed, sleep still on her eyes. Still smelling good like she always does. Warm like she always is, welcoming like she always-

The whole time we were speaking, my mind was wandering and my dick was bringing me discomfort. It’s hard and I have no one to ease the discomfort. Ugh.

“Y/n?” I called out my voice strained, “Whenever you start missing me, just call me.” 

Because I am definitely missing you. I hung up the phone and tossed it beside me on the bed, sitting up and seeing the imprint of the boner in my boxers. 

I pushed my boxers down and spit in my hand a few times before I began to stroke my length, thoughts of Y/n in the cute outfits she wears under that white coat driving me forward. As well as the way she looked the last time I saw her, at the Charity Gala. 

I think I'm losing my mind over here. What the hell is happening to me?

A breathy groan escapes my lips and moans of her name drip off my tongue. It’s a little shameful who just the sound of her voice invokes such a fire in me.

When did I get myself wrapped around her finger like this?

~!~

I look at the door for the 5th time, ignoring the yelling between those who were present. I’m finally back in Seoul after 12 days of traveling and I can’t lie to myself about the excitement of seeing Y/n again. 

After jacking off to the thought of her, I wonder how I'll be able to face her. I feel...weird about it. I wouldn’t ever tell her about it, since no sexual interaction has happened between us in the slightest. But my emotions have felt intensified by 10 these days. 

I also mean to talk to Jungkook about his words before the Gala. I need to make it clear that Y/n is off limits. She’s not my girlfriend or anything but, Jungkook needs to back off. I have to start driving her myself, and since Y/n says she likes me….she won’t mind.

“You missed her!” Taehyung sings from his seat, “You missed Y/n!” 

I only stare at the cheesing boy, before looking to Namjoon to start explaining the information he gathered. 

“Of course he missed her!” Seokjin called out, “he’s looking at the door every few minutes!”

“Boss is not in the mood to be teased,” Yoongi exclaimed before showing me a goofy smile. 

“Not by us at least.” Jimin jokes. 

The boys laugh collectively and I can feel my ears burning red. 

“Oh, his ears are read!” Yoongi observes fighting off his laughter. 

“They are!” The others chime in. 

“What happened Boss, did you have a naughty dream about Y/n?” 

“Did you get off to her?” 

“Have you finally realized your feelings?” 

They were all speaking at once and I could only keep my head down as my ears grew hot. 

I must say...it’s been a long time since the boys have openly made fun of me like this. 

“I’ve just been…” Their laughter trails off as I start to speak. 

“I’ve been feeling a lot of things lately.” I shrug to try to move past the awkwardness that came with the words. 

“Well duh!” Taehyung says, “You’ve probably just realized your feelings, and your little soulmate connection things are just now starting! Don’t worry boss, I doubt Y/n is going to care if you showed her more affection-- I’m sure she wants it.”

“L-let’s just change the subject,” I mutter, “Order some food for everyone, I’m paying.”

A cheer sounds through the room and I’m just glad the subject has changed. While Namjoon is speaking, Jin ends up calling Jungkook about what to order but my attention in tuned into Namjoon.

It’s when I hear a door opening followed by whistles from the guys that I knew Y/n was here.  I kept my eyes forward, while Namjoon kept explaining what he wrote on the blackboard. We were having a discussion on this when I heard her voice.

“Hey guys.” She greeted everyone. Namjoon even greeted her in return, looking at me while I pretended to be too focused on the blackboard. 

Soon she stood at my side, “Hey.” She says softly. 

“Hey.” I replied before looking at her head on. Beautiful as always. My eyes drop down her body and back to her eyes. She wore a fine yellow outfit, and I hope the jump in body didn’t translate onto my face.

I sat on the table and she stood, she was almost eye level with me. After asking about how my flight was, she kisses me on the cheek. I stare at her in surprise while she smiles in return.

“I’m glad you’re back.” She said. I narrowed my eyes at her, and my eyes dropped down to her outfit again. 

Damn, she has to be doing this on purpose. Even after she diverted her attention to Namjoon, I couldn’t help myself. She gave me a perfect view of her ass, I had the urge to be...close to her. Fuck I liked to have her under me screaming my na--

“Boss is looking hungry!” Taehyung sang, potentially pulling me from my train of thoughts.

“But not for food.” Jennie adds. 

I look back at some files I was supposed to be reading with a small smirk on my lips. My ears grew hot as they turned red.

“Cute.” She mumbles.

~!~

“Now why did you guys go and make her cry?” I said to the guys as they sat around the circular table. I sent Jennie and Y/n home after Y/n bursted into tears after hearing the contract the guys’ parents signed to be free of debt. I didn’t want to touch this subject again, but as I watched Y/n overwhelmed with sadness on my behalf, I knew I couldn’t ignore it.

“She asked us questions and we answered it.” Yoongi said softly, throwing a concerned look to Jungkook who was crying. 

“W-we don’t hate you Hoseok!” Jungkook sobbed, wiping his face with the sleeves of his shirt. 

I was surprised to hear my first name from him.

“A-and I’m not pursuing Y/n. It was just a small crush.” 

I almost had to laugh at the way he gargled his words while tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Guys, let’s not do this okay? We can just-”

“We don’t hate you hyung,” Jimin chimed in, shyly looking down at the table instead of looking at me. 

“Guys--” I’m cut off again.

“I am sorry hyung, I was angry with my parents. You didn’t do anything and it wasn’t right for us to shut you out like we did. We should have been your family and support at the funeral but we left you all alone. It wasn’t fair to you.” Taehyung stared at me with wet eyes. 

“You took care of us so well, a-and we didn’t realize the damage it caused! There is no hate for you anywhere in my heart.”

They went on like that for a while. I simply listened, taking in their words. Long monologues about how they were sorry and so on. It was nice to hear and it did ease me just a small bit.  When it was silent and my turn to speak. 

“I am not angry at you guys. It was lonely all these years. You guys were here but it was lonely.” Was all I could say, scratching the back of my neck. It’s uncomfortable to talk like this with them.

“Well,” Namjoon began, “We won’t let you feel lonely anymore hyung!” With those words Jungkook rose on his feet and charged towards me. I was pulled into a tight hug.

“I only like hugs from Y/n.” I joked, hoping the awkward feeling would pass. But soon I was in the middle of a huge group hug.

“Let’s take some baby steps and work up to hugs.” I muttered, resulting in a laugh from everyone else. 

~!~

The music was booming and the lights were a hot red, matching the hot atmosphere of the club. The bass of music was vibrating strongly and it was adding a small shake to the glasses of drinks on the table. Y/n and Jennie went to the dance floor some time ago, and the way she looked when she approached me was printed in my mind. 

She looked hot. I felt my blood growing hot and I couldn’t stop the need to get my hands on her. The urge to have Y/n close has grown intensely. I can’t say I'm a skinship person but with her, it’s different. I need her close, I want her close. 

The way she came in and took a seat next to me without any hesitation. I mean, where else would she have sat? Having someone by my side is...nice. Great even. 

I wonder if she’d let me drive her home. I’m tired of always having Jungkook do it. He told me his declaration to pursue Y/n was a joke, but I’m not going to let my guard down just yet

“Hyung, there are three of them. They’ve already noticed our presence so I expect one of them to approach us.” Jimin stated, “They’ll try to intimidate us. It’s the same pattern they’ve been doing at the last spots they hit.”

“I’m gonna ring up Y/n and tell her and Jennie to clear out of here soon, before things pop off.” I said reaching into my pocket to grab my phone.

“Look at you being a worried boyfriend.” Jimin cooed. 

I paused my movements before giving Jimin a curious look, “Jimin...how would you ask someone out on a date?”

Jimin’s toothy grin went into a full out mouth opening smile. 

“Hyung!” He yelled in excitement. I instantly regretted my question. 

“Never mind,” I dismissed, shaking my head,

“Wait hyung! I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you!” He shouted. I barely heard him over the music but I simply nodded.

“I’ll tell you later, but I think with Y/n, just ask her to a movie or to dinner!She’s pretty chill.” He added. I stood up from my seat, ignoring his last words. However, I will be asking him later. 

With my phone in my hands, I scrolled through my contacts to find Y/n. I walked out from the seated pit area to find Y/n. My eyes searched the club, spotting a suspicious man stand near the edge of the dance floor. 

I spotted him briefly, moving my gaze off him naturally. I want him to believe I didn’t spot him. He’s clearly a part of the men we were watching.

I looked back to my phone and instead of texting Y/n, I text Taehyung who was already on high alert.

To Taehyung: Keep eyes on dude on the right. Far end of the dance floor. He’s up to something.

Just as I looked up from my phone, I saw Y/n approaching me. I couldn’t read the expression on her face, but it’s clear she was eager to get to me.

“Where’d you go? I was looking for you--”  I was cut off as she slammed into me, throwing her arms around me in a tight hug. It nearly knocked the wind out of me, but the display of affection left me smiling.

“Did you miss me already?” I chuckled. It was at the moment that I heard her labored breathing in my ear. Something is...off.

“H-hoseok.” She called out weakly. Her arms dropped from around me and she was putting all of her weight onto me. 

“Y/n?” I asked, shoving my phone into my pocket and wrapping my arms around her. The next thing I knew, I heard a terrifying scream, and looked up to see Jennie standing about 12 feet from us with a horrified look on her face. 

Something is wrong. 

“Y-y/n?” I called again. She’s not responding. She’s not talking. Her shallow breaths were all I could hear. The music was being tuned out and my heart was beating in my ears. My hands moved from her back to her hips and her side when I felt it. I froze as I realized my hands were...wet? 

I glanced down at my right hand and thought I could have collapsed when I saw the bright red on my hand. My hand pressed back to her side, putting pressure on where the blood was coming from. All this happened in seconds, but it felt like hours.

“Y-you’re bleeding? Y/n? Y/n!” My voice shook as I tried to get any response from her. 

“Taehyung!” My voice pierced through the music, and I turned my head to see the guys rushing towards me with Jennie walking up with tears in her eyes. She was asking me questions with her eyes but I didn’t have any answers. 

“Taehyung, bring the car around to the back!” I yelled.

“Yoongi, Joon go after those bastards! They couldn’t have gone far!” I’m yelling and everyone is moving. We’ve caught the attention of some people on the dance floor, as well as those sitting in other pits, but their curious stares didn’t mean a thing to me. 

“I’m...tired.” Y/n said, as if she was sobbing. 

I scooped up Y/n into my arms and made my way towards the back exit of the club. We had to push our way through the staff rooms and the small kitchen but we got through with no problem. Jennie was at my side, taking a clean rag she got while we pushed through the kitchen, and pressed it to the wound.

“Please Y/n.” I whispered, holding her closer to me. 

Usually such bullet wounds won’t cause all this worry, but with the amount of blood that was coming...it was scary. Even by my standards. Did the bullet hit an artery? That’s...that’s the worst thing that could happen. If an artery was hit, Y/n will die for sure. 

“Y/n? Stay awake for me.” I said again, as we made it out the back exit to the alleyway where Taehyung already had the big van parked. Jimin through the sliding door open and I stepped in with Y/n still in my arms. Jennie followed in after me. 

Jimin closed the door and hopped into the passenger’s seat before Taehyung took off.

Jennie was scurrying to do different things. Despite the blood on her hands, she took the towel and pressed it to the wound. She took my free hand that wasn’t wrapped around Y/n’s back, since Y/n is sitting on my lap, and placed it on the towel. 

“Keep pressure on it.” She instructed, before shuffling around the van, seeing as she was practically standing in the van. She was a bit bent over as she worked. 

“Call Jin and Jungkook! Tell them to have the surgery room ready. I need all the tools cleaned and disinfected. I’ve shown them how to do it.” Jennie orders. Jimin gets right on  and in that moment I was thankful that Jin and Jungkook wanted to stay back for this mission.

She was checking Y/n’s pulse and breathing, at some point pressing her ear to her chest. 

“How is she?” I couldn’t recognize my own voice. My voice was quiet, unsure and weak. Ugh so weak. I noticed Jimin look at me with obvious pity. 

Taehyung looks at me from the rearview mirror and I wonder what my face looks like at this moment. But I look at Y/n and frown deeply. The color is draining from her face, and all I can do is stare at her. 

It’s like watching the life drain from my father all over again. 

“Her pulse is….slow. Dangerously slow. I don’t think an artery was hit, but I don’t know Y/n’s medical history so it’ll be tough to figure out--”

“Jimin, find a way to get Y/n’s medical records.” I order.

Jennie seems shocked, “Hoseok it’s--”

“I have my ways.” I deadpanned, before looking over at Y/n’s face again. She’s not responding to anything and the only thing keeping my string of sanity from snapping was the rising and falling of her chest. 

We arrived at the headquarters and rushed in. 

“What happened?” I heard Jungkook cry as we rushed in. I went with Jennie, straight to the surgery room, thankfully to see everything set up. 

I set her down on the table as Jennie rushed to wash her hands, threw on spare scrubs over her outfit, and washed her hands a second time, disinfecting then throwing gloves on. 

“Out.” She ordered. 

“What? I--”

“Out! I got this Hoseok! I promise! She will be fine!” She stared up at me. My eyes moved back to Y/n who was laying there looking….ghostly. I looked back at Jennie and nodded before making my way out the room.The door was still open. Jungkook, Jin and Taehyung watched, all with worried eyes. 

I looked at Jennie once more as she started tearing the clothes off of Y/n. To respect her privacy, we all looked away. I stepped out the room and shut the door, leaving the guys and I in a heavy silence. 

My eyes are trained on the ground and my thoughts are moving rapidly. 

“Hyung--” Jungkook started, his face turning red as tears bubbled in his eyes. I glanced down at my legs, the fabric sticking to my body because of the blood that had begun to dry. My hands were covered in red and the sight disgusted me. 

Blood hasn’t bothered me before, but it being Y/n’s blood left me sick. What if she dies? 

I can’t keep anything good in this life can I? It was careless of me to think that I could bring her along while working. What the fuck was I thinkng? 

It was a stupid move on my part so I--

“Hyung!” Jimin’s voice took me out of my thoughts. I was so zoned out that I didn’t notice I was now in the middle of a circle. Jimin, Taehyung, Jin and Jungkook all stood around me in concern. Jin reached out to place a hesitant hand on my shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Jin asked. He stared at me seriously, scrutinizing my response.

“I…” I trailed off and looked towards Jungkook who held eye contact with me for all of 3 seconds before he started crying again. I could only look away from him and back to Jin.

“I’m going to go take a shower.” I answered before stepping out from the circle. I walked out from the circle and past the circle table before walking down the hallway. I stopped at the silver door and stepped into it. It was our regular clean up from. You walk in to see what looks like a huge closet. Different shirts, uniforms and more. I walk over to a small sink in the corner and wash my hands swiftly. 

I actually washed my hands three times, feeling like the red wouldn’t go away.

When looking for disguises, we come here. I walk through the room, unbuttoning my shirt and throwing into the trash bin. I don’t think I could wear these clothes again. I take off my shoes, my socks, pants and boxers before grabbing a towel not too far away. I throw it over my shoulder, feeling a little weird standing in the room completely naked. 

I walked towards the second door in the room which led to a bathroom with a shower. Two separate and private showers. I hung my towel up in arms reach and stepped into one of the glass shower squares. The water was cold when it hit me, but I needed it. It felt like my whole body had been on fire for the past 30 minutes.

I took both my hands and placed them on the grey tile wall as the water grew warmer. I closed my eyes and stood there for a while. The water fell onto my hair and all down my face but I was trying to steady my breathing. My heart felt like it was going to pop out of my chest.

I grabbed my loofa and took a nice long shower, trying to keep my mind empty of any others. I stepped out of the shower, dried off and wrapped the towel around my waist. I looked through the closet area and found a simple black tee shirt and joggers. Got refreshed and put on the clothes and some nike slides before stepping out into the hallway. 

When I stepped out to the lobby Yoongi and Namjoon had returned.

“Boss, we--”

“You weren’t able to catch them, I figured.” My tone was a bit harsh and I felt bad after saying it, but I’m sure they understand how stressed I am right now.

“I’ll catch them myself.” I muttered, looking towards the closed door of the surgery room.

The room is quiet again. 

“It’ll be hours till she’s done so you guys can head home. I’ll keep you updated.” I announce and sit in a chair with my arms folded. The guys seemingly ignored my suggestion, cause I closed my eyes to think, and hear their shuffling. 

About 30 minutes passed till I opened my eyes again and they were still there, also sitting with me.

I closed my eyes again, and didn’t open them till a tired Jennie stepped out from the room. I don’t know how much time had passed, but all the guys were sluggish in their movements cause they were half asleep.

I sprung up from my seat and looked directed at her. It was like the whole room was holding their breath. 

“She’s stable. She’ll wake up in a day. I did everything right.” Jennie breaks out into a smile, tears welling in her eyes. 

~!~

It’s day 5. 

Y/n has not opened her eyes. I’ve sat there staring at her unmoving body for days. She’s not waking up, she’s responding or even giving us a hopefully foot twitch.

My angry eyes turn to Jennie who has unfortunately become the target for my anger. I feel bad, I really do but, Y/n should have been up days ago. None of the tests Jennie does shows anything wrong with her.

Yesterday I was yelling profanities at Jennie, asking her repeatedly if she’d done everything correct. I don’t know much about surgeries but I know a bullet to the hip or thigh area shouldn’t cause someone to be out this long! 

I had already apologized to Jennie for the 3rd time and each time she was understanding. Everyone was worried. Jennie still had to go to work at the hospital so when she was gone, I just sat here in the hospital room, listening to the heart monitor beep. 

When Jennie arrived, we exchanged a knowing look before I made my way out the room. And that’s how I ended up here. 

I am at a familiar cemetery, staring at my father’s tombstone. It was on the father end of the cemetery, leaving a lot of space between it and the other tombstones.

“Jung Yunseok.” I read out my father's name. I sat down on the grass so I was facing his tombstone and like always I speak my mind.

“Dad, it’s been a while.” I say quietly. I look up at the sky for a moment. The sun is starting to set, leaving the sky a calming orange. Not too calming for me, but it’s pretty to look at.

“Work has been hectic. Y/n...has been distracting me. I don’t know if that’s how it was for you and mom-” I paused. The mention of her leaving a bittersweet taste in my mouth.

“How did you balance work and your personal life?” I chuckled to myself, “I didn’t think I’d like Y/n, so I brought her into my work world right from the start. What a stupid decision.”

“Because of my stupid decisions Y/n is laying there looking like a corpse.”

I stay quiet for a moment. 

“She’s not like mom...at least I don’t think she is. If she was getting tired of me, she’d tell me. Every time she sees me, she looks at me with these bright eyes. She’s always happy to see me. No matter what. Could it style like that forever?” 

“She did jump in front of a bullet for me.”

I run my fingers through my hair, “You and mom weren’t soulmates, so that plays a part into everything turning to shit but...Y/n and I are so if the universe doesn’t make mistakes like everyone says...she wouldn’t get tired of my lifestyle?”

“Would it be messed up if I took a step back? To clear my head?” I nervously rub my hands together before letting out a lengthy sigh.

“You always said when I’m confused, I should take a step back and see what my options are. But I know what they are. I can’t pretend I don’t like her, so it’s either I try this relationship thing 100% or I back off completely.”

The wind howls and the leaves rustle in the wind. I narrow my eyes as the wind causes tears to well up in them.

“I’m gonna keep my distance to gather my thoughts. No more decisions made off unsure thoughts.” I mutter. 

My phone dings in my pocket and I pull it out to see a text from Jungkook.

Y/n woke up. She’s asking for you. 

I read the text over and over again before locking my phone. 

“Remember how I’d always say something was serendipity and you’d always say it was destiny.” I giggled at the memory.

“Well, serendipity is a good thing you’re not expecting or looking for. So meeting Y/n was serendipity for sure...I just can’t be sure if it’s really destiny.”

I stand up from my spot on the ground and brush off the dirt on my pants. 

“I’ll let you know how things go dad.” I mutter, “Whether it’s good or bad.”

~!~

“We will discuss it another day Mr. Robins. For now, I will not raise the amount.” I said as I stood up from my seat at my desk. I stepped out of my office and down the hallway, wondering if I could get a few more kisses from Y/n. 

Stupid work call interrupted us.

“Okay Mr. Jung. Sorry to call you past work hours and happy birthday” Mr. Robins said before the line went quiet. He hangs up just as I walk out to the lobby. Jennie, Jaehyun, Yoongi, Taehyung, Jungkook and Y/n laughing. Everyone’s attention turned to me as I walked in, Y/n’s gaze being the only one to linger a bit. She smiles at me before looking back at Jennie who was telling some story.

“So I’m standing at the check in desk, getting files from one of the nurses…” Jennie is sitting down at the table with Jaehyun sitting beside her. Everyone was seated except for Y/n and Jungkook who were standing next to each other near the table. 

“He walks up and at first nothing looks wrong cause he’s his hand behind his back.” Jennie continues with her story as I walk up placing myself on Y/n’s other side. I could put my arm around her, or would that be too much? 

Don’t want to look like I’m eager, but I am. 

As if my internal conflict was heard, Y/n slides an arm around my waist and leans into me. 

“I’ve heard this story a few times, but it’s still funny.” She whispers up at me with a smile and turns her attention to Jennie again.

“He says, ‘My hand just hurts a bit.’ So I tell him to write his name down and wait. So this guy brings up his hand that is wrapped up and is literally bleeding like crazy and I’m just staring at him like what the fuck?” Jennie going on.

“Does stuff like that happen a lot?” I whisper to Y/n.

“Oh yeah,” She whispers back, “All the time.”

“I ask him, sir, what happened to your hand? He says, in the calmest voice ever, ‘my circular saw split it in half while I was doing woodwork, and we all just stare at each other. Me, the nurse and the calmly bleeding man.”

I laugh as she explains further, “It was like a scene from ‘The Office’. I looked at the nurse, she looked at me, we both looked at the man and started shouting ‘GET A STRETCHER, I NEED NURSES ON HAND.’ It was horrifying.”

“So what happened to him?” Yoongi asked.

“We stitched up his hand and he was out of there a day later. But he was so calm, that we the doctors had to do the panicking for him,” 

The conversation went on with weird topics and I just listened, laughing when someone said something funny.

“Awww,” Taehyung suddenly cooed. Oh no. 

“Look how cute Hyung and Y/n look!” He put his hands to his cheeks and giggled. 

“That’s my cue to leave!” I groaned, stepping out of Y/n’s hold. 

“Wait Hoseok, don’t go! Let us gush over how cute you two look!” Yoongi joined in. 

“I have more work to do anyways!” I yell back as I head back to the hallway. 

“Y/n,” I say, realizing she isn’t following behind me, “let me know when you’re ready to go. I’ll drive you home.” 

She looked surprised but nodded, “Okay.” 

I waltz down the hallway and stop at the blue door, punching in the number code on the lock and opening the door enough to pop my head into the soundproof room. 

I laid my eyes on the three men who sat tied to a chair, with duct tape on their mouths. Only two of them were awake, the dried blood on their face and cloths evidence of when we brought them in.

They panicked as they saw me, but I only shook my head. 

“Oh don’t worry, I'm not finishing up today.” I say before looking into the hallway again to make sure Y/n isn’t coming.

“Honestly,” I start sarcastically, “I really hate the whole torture before killing thing but...you shot my girl, so I guess we all have to deal with the consequences.” I flash a smirk before stepping back and closing the door once again.

My girl. 

Has a nice ring to it. 

♠----♠----♠-----♠

Whew! 15k! My goodness what a long chapter! So let me know what you think! Do you think you understand Hoseok better? 

Was it what you expected? And the things that were going on that Y/n, didn’t see...what did you think about that? Let me know what you think!

:))

[fandomcolourofmyskin]

Please don't take this the wrong way, but you realize that this show is explicitly about the poor, Midwestern white male experience? They lack privilege on multiple levels which the show explores (sa m the janitor, Dean the grunt), and all of the queer issues stem almost directly from the poor white male's low level of self determination/ agency or the perception thereof I'm a poor whitish person from a similar area, and it feels unique to see a poor white show that isn't Roseanne.

Hi nonnie,

I have a lot of things to say in response to your message — which does display ignorance of societal organization across systemic racial lines — but without creating a huge extensive post, here are some crucial points to consider:

- The “poor Midwestern white male experience” does NOT discount the insulated bubble of white privilege that Sam and Dean Winchester occupy, and neither is Supernatural immune from racist narratives and/or racist character implementation (especially ‘cause SPN has predominantly white production crew/writers around the table. Again, any literary narrative or script they conceive can and most likely will be influenced by internalized unconscious white dominance —> white-painted narratives perceived by POC viewers. I mean, scour this blog/google ‘Supernatural and racism’ and you’ll get the picture.)

- Additionally, stating that the show is “explicitly about” the poor Midwestern white male experience is false. Yes, you’re a poor white person from a similar area, and so you believe that, as a white person, the show’s premise reflects your experience. However, your statement doesn’t represent reality. The racial blind spot here is: media consumption by (realities of) white people will not equate to media consumption by (realities of) POC.

As I said here, we cannot talk about other systemic forces like socioeconomic class without addressing race. Race is inherently interweaved into other structural dimensions. It’s why BIPOC (Black Indigenous POC) + POC are: statistically paid less than white employees, unequally treated in terms of job capability, encounter unconscious bias across the hiring market, struggle to find jobs, unable to afford three-story suburban houses, and can never seem to find favour no matter how hard we work.

Reni Eddo-Lodge reiterates what white privilege is. When we say ‘white privilege’, we aren’t referring to white people always having it easy, or living in the lap of material wealth (but economic race disparities are instrinsically linked to material wealth), or lacking suffering, or living in poverty.

White privilege: the unearned set of societal benefits, advantages, and positive attitudes/behaviours bestowed upon white people solely because they are white (because of the pale/white colour of their skin). Claiming that Sam and Dean “lack privilege on multiple levels” perpetuates the continuous erasure of the POC reality, as well as intersectional BI+POC realities (being PoC, queer, and disabled, etc). What’s our reality? We actually lack privilege on multiple levels because of the colour of our skin. Your claim could imply that white privilege isn’t a thing, but it is. Think of white privilege as the air we breathe: it’s there, and we’re surrounded by it, and we breathe it in, yet because air is mostly invisible, some people aren’t always aware of it until you tell ‘em “Hey dude, did you know you’re inhaling oxygen?” The answer would be: “Obviously. Idk why you’re pointing that out - I already know that. You saying I’m dumb?” (lol not too far off from white defensiveness, right?) White people are so used to their privilege that they feel weird, ‘uncomfortable’ and ‘unsafe’ once people of colour point out their privilege. They subconsciously (and consciously) refuse to lose their place at the top. They’ll be offended.

To address your message, specifically — Sam and Dean hold white privilege as white men despite being poor. This is an uncomfortable fact that white SPN audiences must acknowledge.

If translated into real life, Sam and Dean will walk inside a bar and not be suspected of crime at first glance. They won’t look suspicious. They won’t get physically assaulted, shot at, killed, and/or lynched, both by police and fellow white men. They can speak, eat, and behave however they please without getting kicked out. They’ll chase after people they wanna bang or make inappropriate moves without being accused of sexual harrassment; BI+POC are typically falsely accused. (*Bonus Salt incoming* Sam and Dean won’t die permanently on their own show. The BI+PoC allies they have are often killed off to forward their plot and channel white manpain, then embody racist narrative tropes. As an Asian, Kevin Tran’s Stereotypical-Asian presence upset me, and his death further hurt my sensibilities. It did not shock me at all to see yet another Asian character killed off. Again, I must mention the horrible Asian-fetishist-exotificating Busty Asian Beauties, as well. Heck, S8 episode title “What’s Up Tiger Mommy?” was blatantly racist that I can’t believe no one demanded they change the episode premise + Kevin and Linda Tran’s characterizations. JUST KIDDING, of course I know why no one emphasized the issue - there are barely any BI+PoC in the writer’s room. This is why hiring us must become important).

Unfortunately - and unlike your opinion - Supernatural is not “unique” for us BI+PoC fans. It’s a show manned by predominantly white cast/crew that centralizes two white men and their respective narrow realities. We don’t live in a bubble. We’re everywhere. Depict us properly, with cultural/racial sensitivity, in entertainment, media, art forms, and more. Acknowledge our lack of privilege on multiple levels.

We live within a society set up for people of colour to fail. Whiteness is the default, and the privilege intrinsically linked to that ensconces an entire array of political, social, cultural and economic structures advantaging white people while disadvantaging People of Colour.

You’re a poor white person. I’m not, and the likelihood of the white poor person being given an opportunity to escape poverty is statistically MUCH, MUCH higher than the likelihood of poor POC to escape poverty.

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

Info drop.

Hagihara: This is Mitsuba Hagihara reporting to you from [Insert Location Name]. Last night, this area was hit with a terrible tragedy.

Hagihara: Several patrons of the bar were killed last night in very brutal fashion, and burned alive in an afterward fire. Police still have no idea who or what was behind this. The only thing missing from the scene was one of the now deceased patrons laptops.

Jesus...

*Makoto, Leon, Sayaka, Hina and Mukuro all sit around the TV, watching the news story unfold.

What the hell do you think that was about? Who do you think was behind that?

Could it be Zetsubou?

Hm...I’m not really sure...

Zetsubou might be a bunch of tryhard losers, but do they really have nothing better to do than shoot up and burn a bar?

Sayaka’s right. They’re a bunch of psychopaths, but most of their actions aren’t done without good reason. They must have been after something.

That place is in a crappy part of town though. Didn’t we only recently start renovating it for the people there?

There were plans in the process. During the Towa City Crisis with Haiji Towa, Kuripa went there to get Black Market information.

That’s how he first met his girlfriend. He hired her through the information he got there, in exchange for the promise of renovating the area.

If you ask me...the obvious conclusion is that Zetsubou, assuming they ARE responsible, was whatever was on the stolen laptop.

But again, like Hina said, anyone in that part of town that owns a laptop is probably a pawnbroker.

Was whatever they had worth killing all those people?

There’s something else that’s bothering me about this...It’s that Zetsubou seemed to do a bit too good a job covering their tracks.

What do you mean?

Well, from the intelligence we know, Zetsubou’s two most lethal team members are Narumi Osone and Akira Tsuchiya.

After all, we know full well what they’re both capable of. Tsuchiya killed a whole load of our soldiers in the span of about a quarter of an hour the last time we encountered him. And Osone, well, we know what she’s done.

Yeah...

But one thing I can say is that neither of them are particularly great at covering their tracks...Or more accurately, it’s like they don’t really want to or care to.

So...Is Zetsubou really not involved?

These kinds of problems occur every day. Sure, this is a little extreme, but not every awful thing that happens is the work of Organization Zetsubou.

Oh, Celeste! Yeah I guess you have a point there...

*sigh* I understand. With everything that’s happened lately, it’s hard not to assume that our enemies are behind every little transaction.

I wouldn’t call this “little” a lot of people died in that bar.

True. But think about the world that we live in Sayaka. It’s better, but it’s hardly a nice one.

Hm...

Hellooo~?

*Out of nowhere, Kuripa suddenly walks into the building, behind him is Kyoko and Byakuya.

Oh, hey. What’s going on?

Nuffin’ much. I just came round to see Boss and Mukuro, but along the way, these guys caught me.

Indeed. It’s quite lucky all of you are here. I wanted to speak to you about some things.

Chairwoman is speaking.

*Everyone listens attentively.

I’ll keep this brief. As you know...Future Foundation have been dealing with some...issues lately, but I have some good news.

We might have found a way to gain the edge over Organization Zetsubou.

Really?

How?

Detective Samidare has come back with some information for us.

Yui?

Yes. She found a list of strange transactions in Future Foundation headquarters. None of which were official.

They had a stamp of approval on them from the Foundation heads, but usually in order to get that, they have to have the go ahead from the majority of Foundation chiefs.

Byakuya and I went over the files she sent us, and we realized between us that none of them were one’s we recognized.

What was on them?

Mainly financial and research papers.

Including the resurrection machines?

Yes, but not too many. I remember that was the first one they sent out, but diminished over time.

It makes sense. When the first papers on the machines was leaked, we were on high alert. We made sure whatever information on them was held tight with an iron fist.

So is this the work of the traitor then?

Possibly...no, in fact it’s quite likely.

How in the world did these go under the radar for so long? Nothing on these papers has to be anything particularly threatening, but in the hands of a group like Zetsubou, we don’t know what they’ll do with them.

Whoever leaked these was very clever about it. They sent them out from almost every branch office in every establishment so we couldn’t trace the leaks to one specific location.

Clever...Like trying to find a needle in a haystack.

Think of this opportunity as our magnet.

Yeah, this could be the chance we need to pin them down!

So what’s the plan Ma’am?

Branches 1, 2, 10, 13 and 14 will be going to Yui’s office the day after tomorrow. There will be other members of the Library there to greet us.

Damn, so that’s like...all of us here?

All of us excluding Ryota’s branch, Hiro, Shuichi and Maki Harukawa from Byakuya’s branch. I trust that that’s fine with all of you.

Of course. Any movements we can make against this spy, the better. It’ll give us the edge over Zetsubou that we need.

Question: Why the day AFTER tomorrow? Wouldn’t it be best to do this as soon as possible?

I have some...arrangements tomorrow. And Ryota has a date too, so-

Ryota has a date!?

How!? With who!?

Oh, I forgot about that! I set him up on a date with this cute girl we know. The one who comes round to hang out like, every weekend.

That girl!? She’s adorable!

You are going to give me the details, NOW!

*Sayaka and Hina grab Kuripa by his shoulders and push him out of the room.

Woah! Hey, hey!

Ah, guess I’ll talk to you guys later! Byeee!

*They exaunt.

Every day’s a circus with you people.

Don’t say “you people” as if you’re not involved in the circus.

Fair point I suppose...But what of your arrangements Kyoko?

Oh it’s...it’s not important...

Riiight...

I’ll be on duty if you need me sir.

Yeah, me too I guess. Not much I can do around here. Guess I’ll read that employment magazine I found.

Employment magazine? What about?

A-Ah it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.

I guess I’ll go with Sayaka and Hina. Not an awful lot else to do around here.

So long as everyone is aware, I care not what you spend the next two days doing.

Well, the message has been received, that’s for sure.

[yorkhornby]

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[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part twenty) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±7600 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part twenty: It’s auction time! Two horses of the Gold Canyon Ranch are up for sale. Will they get the price they are hoping for? Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music:  Sold - John Michael Montgomery (Auction scene), Save A Horse - Big & Rich (Jo & Y/N dancing scene), Good Time - Alan Jackson (Dean & Y/N dancing scene), In Case You Didn’t Know - Brett Young (Final scene). Follow ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Prepare for cuteness and a bit of angst! Thank you @kittenofdoomage​, @manawhaat​ and @winchest09​ for helping me. Also a special thanks to @jules-1999​, who has offered me her knowledge about rodeo events like these.

Ride With Me Masterlist

     “Sold! For 3750 dollars to number 48!”

     The auctioneer slams the gavel down on the block, sealing the deal. A sigh of relief falls from Dean and Jo’s lips, who are leaning over the high fence at the auction pen. Almost four grand for an unbroken two year old Mustang is more than a fair price these days. The average numbers have been decent so far, especially considering the current economic depression that is weighing down on the country.  

     Benny leads the young horse out of the arena, him and Dean exchanging a nod, accompanied with a smile. The Gold Canyon Ranch crew is playing it cool, but all are well aware how desperately the cash is needed. It’s not something the whole circuit needs to know, however. Much like any business where money is involved, there are always those who are eager for an opportunity to profit off the loss of others. There are plenty of vultures circling the skies above their potential prey, waiting to take advantage. Dean will not let that happen.

     A new horse is brought in and the auctioneer starts rambling again, announcing prices while assistants scan the crowd for bidders. It’s a vibrant ambience, most people here to make deals, others to have fun. Upbeat country music rallies on the buyers who watch one animal after another come into the pen, judging their conformation, gait and looks before they raise their sign into the air to announce their bid. The small indoor arena is more crowded than one would expect after the market collapsed earlier this year. He notices that Y/N is experiencing some difficulty getting through the mass of people, trying to push past people while transporting three huge burgers.

     “Sorry, got held up, there was a line,” she excuses, handing the fast food to the wranglers.      “You didn’t have to do that, Yank,” Dean returns, taking the large burger in his hand nonetheless.      “Yes, I did. You haven’t eaten, yet. Dig in,” she returns.      Grinning, he moves the welcoming food to his mouth to take a bite. Once again she surprises him with her care and observations. Nothing goes past her, especially when it comes to his well-being.

     Y/N glances at the large display on the back wall where the sold horses are listed. She thought the biddings stalled just under 4000 dollars and the numbers on the screen confirm it. “The price for the Mustang wasn’t bad, was it?”      “Not at all. Dad still has to pay ten percent commission, but he’s gonna be satisfied with almost three and a half grand,” Jo agrees. “If that Pinto sells for good money, you might wanna break it to him that you two are the new Sonny & Cher, before he catches you two lovebirds red-handed.”      With his mouth full, Dean chuckles at the blonde Cowgirl’s remark, which she paired with a perked eyebrow. He lets his free hand slip around his girlfriend’s waist, gently pulling her closer.      “I’ll tell him when we get back on Monday, promise,” he announces, more to Y/N than to Jo. “He’s too busy doin’ business now anyways.”

     Y/N smiles at the assurance, leaning into him. She’s glad Dean is so comfortable with her by his side in the presence of others, but just as important, she’s glad Jo has realized Dean isn’t just fooling around. Her friend has always supported her, but it took her a second to believe her cousin’s intentions are, in fact, good. Her skepticism wasn’t random; she has seen plenty of tears fall for the ladykiller. But those days are in the past now.      “What time is the second horse going up for auction?” Y/N wonders.      Dean checks his watch and glances at the horse currently in the pen, who is carrying a tag with ‘204’ on it. “He’s number 211, so he should be up in twenty minutes or so.”      “Think Benny will manage?” Jo checks.      “Yeah, he has plenty of time to switch them. Let him make himself useful, he’s not riding any horses this weekend anyway,” the head wrangler grins.

     The crew members finish their quick meal, the three of them now leaning over the fence while watching the exciting auction. The burgers are delicious, fresh off the grill from one of the many food stands, topped with cheddar and crispy bacon. Quality greasy event garbage, but Y/N wouldn’t want it any other way. Usually she tries to eat healthy, keep her body nourished for  the hard physical labor she puts into her work. During shows, however, she always lets go. She knows that she can’t swallow a bite before her runs, not with the nerves always closing off her throat and having her stomach in knots. But staring down at the big, juicy burger in her hands, she just dives in; figures it’s better to stash up on carbs before her big day than to fall short.

     Twenty minutes later, Benny leads the Pinto into the auction pen. The horse looks magnificent, his white patches washed clean and the fur that’s black shining under the limelight. His mane, detangled and brushed, cascades down his well formed neck, reaching his shoulders. The stallion is stunning, getting a reaction from the audience.

     “Alright, y’all, this is quite the looker we got here. We present this two year old Pinto stallion, owned by the Gold Canyon Ranch. A tall fella which stands at sixteen hands, strong enough to carry a big Cowboy around the competition arena. Sired by Cash Button, well-known APHA champion producer. As you can see he’s haltered, but unbroken, so if you’re lookin’ for a fine show horse to start fresh with, this is the one for you.”

     Dean is glad to hear that the auctioneer does a good job promoting their horses. The speaker can make or break an auction, so he’s thankful the organization hired a skilled one.

     Somewhat nervous, Dean sets his jaw, the muscles flexing under his stubble as he takes in the traders on the bleachers. Jody managed to buy Sundance, despite the huge interest in the mare. She paid a whopping fifteen grand for the talented barrel racer, who stayed at the top of the rank and scored Jo the first win of the competition. Now that the Mustang switched owners for a reasonable price as well, a big stack of cash for the Pinto would really bring the ranch back in the clear… for now. Dean is aware that it will take more than one good day to nurse the company back to financial health again, but it would be a good start.

     “Opening bid is 2500 dollars, so let’s get this bid started, people. 2500, 2500 for the gentleman on the front row. Can I get a 3000?”

     The auctioneer begins his bid calling, the rhythmic repetition of numbers and words adding to the tensed atmosphere. It’s a fast chant that engages the crowd and brings a sense of urgency on the possible buyers. But no matter how hard the speaker tries, the biddings slow once they near three grand, nowhere near the number they hoped the stallion would sell for.

     “Last chance to become the new owner of this stunning future prospect, folks. 3500 dollars now, will you give me 3750? Going once…”

     “C’mon, c’mon,” Dean mutters, drumming his thumb on the wooden fence.      Y/N watches the mass of people, but she can’t see any new signs popping up. It couldn’t possibly be that the Pinto will go for less than the Mustang, even though he’s worth more?      “Did Bobby arrange a reserve?” she checks with Jo.      Her friend shakes her head, glancing at her with worried eyes.      Y/N now shifts her attention to her other side, taking in the head wrangler, noticing the frown edged on his forehead under the brim of his hat. He’s radiating tension, much like Jo, all three keeping their eyes on the $ 3500,- on the screen. It’s not enough, but it might be the amount they will have to settle for.

     “Going twice…”

     “Four thousand!”      All three perk up, trying to make out where the bid originated from. The distinctive voice is easily recognizable though, the woman’s strong accent hard to miss; it’s Donna.      “Four grand, ladies and gents! Do we have another bidder? 4250 dollars, 4250 anyone?”

     Out of nowhere, another number is raised into the air, one of the assistants pointing at the bidder and shouting back a ‘yup!’ at the auctioneer.

     “We’ve got 4250 dollars now, 4250. Can I get a 4500?”      “Five!” Donna calls out.      “Five grand! Do we have 5500?”

     And there you have it, a bidding war. Dean exchanges a look with Jo, who smiles as the bids keep going back and forth like a tennis match, the stakes taken higher every time the ball is bounced back. Y/N watches in anticipation, getting more excited every time the amount that is about to be paid for the Pinto grows larger.

     “Seven and a half grand. 7500,- dollars. Is bidder number 24 gonna raise? You tell me, young lady. For 7750 dollars this gorgeous stallion can be yours. What do you say? 7500 dollars, going once...”

     The rancher with Minnesota roots seems to hesitate, discussing her next move with Jody, who’s seated next to her on the bleachers. After a few nerve-wrecking seconds, Donna keeps her sign down; they can’t go higher, but she took it high enough to make this a successful auction for Bobby Singer.

     “Going twice… Sold! To lucky number 7 for 7500 dollars!”

     The audience applauds the entertaining battle, Benny making a little fist, modestly celebrating the good sale as he walks the horse out of the pen. All the members of the Gold Canyon Ranch family know it; this is a much needed win.

     Unable to contain her elation, Y/N reaches for Dean’s hand, entwining her fingers with his. It draws his attention and he glances aside at her, his green irises full of delight. The worry has dissolved from his eyes, the weariness gone for a moment. Today is a good day; they can let their guard down for a little while.

     “Well, I don’t know about you guys, but with three horses sold and Jo winning the barrel race, I believe we have reason to celebrate!” Y/N says cheerily, looking between Dean and her best friend.      “Hell to the yeah! I think I deserve a drink,” Jo agrees victoriously.      “Come on then.” Y/N grips Dean’s hand tighter, nudging him to follow. “Let’s hit the bar.”

     “Does everyone have a drink?” Y/N checks, looking around to make sure everyone has either a glass or a beer bottle in hand.

     The Gold Canyon Ranch crew is standing around a barrel that serves as a high table, accompanied by Donna and Jody. A live band, consisting of a drummer, a banjo player and a singer who also plays an acoustic guitar, treats the attending guests to a great show. Strings of lightbulbs are connecting the steel frame that keeps the high tent up, its canvas lit with alternating colored spots. The bartenders have to kick it up a gear to keep up with the demand, people waiting to place their order on all sides of the horseshoe-shaped counter. Riders, trainers, horse owners and spectators are laughing, dancing and having a good old time. Nothing today would suspect that business isn’t as usual.

     Dean enjoys the carefree feeling and raises his bottle, joined by his workers and his boss. Even the grumpy old man lifts his IPA into the air, a sparkle back in his uncle’s eyes that he hasn’t seen in a while.      “Alright, y’all. Let’s congratulate Jody Mills here with the purchase of a future champion. Glad to do business with you as always,” he starts, giving the short haired ranch owner a nod, “and of course we raise our drinks to my Joanna for the win.” He throws his daughter a subtle but proud smile, before he turns to the rest of the crew. “Thank y’all for pitchin’ in and for all the hard work.”      “To the Gold Canyon Ranch,” Benny adds, clinking his glass against those of his colleagues and friends, who repeat his words with a cheer.

     Being on the opposite side of the table, Dean takes the opportunity to move his hand to the small of his girlfriend’s back, letting it rest on her hip, knowing Bobby won’t be able to spot it. He presses his fingertips into the denim, meeting her gaze as he takes a good swig of his drink.

     It doesn’t take long before his uncle is dragged away from the fun by a horse trader, without a doubt stealing his time to negotiate about other horses Bobby plans to sell. As Dean predicted, he will be too busy mingling and so Y/N is delighted when her boyfriend leaves an affectionate kiss on her temple. She closes her eyes and smiles at the sweet gesture, counting her blessings. With every touch, every look, the nervousness dissolves a little further.

     When she entered the tent earlier, she felt her heartbeat quicken and her mouth running dry. She’s well aware Dean is easy on the eyes, because she has caught herself getting lost in the image of him more times than she can count, but now it wasn’t just her who noticed his looks. The handsome cowboy made plenty of heads turn, a few women greeting him with a flirtatious ‘Hey, Dean’ as the group passed through the crowd to find a spot. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand up, her boyfriend’s reply to them stinging sharply in the pit of her stomach, even though he was only trying to be polite. It’s not just jealousy that has her lose grip. It’s worry, because she feels intimidated by all the girls that seem to throw themselves at the wrangler. They are all beautiful, stunning looking women, vibrant and confident. More beautiful than me, the insecure voice in the back of her mind once again reminds her.

     He noticed the uneasiness, able to read her body language better each day, and he tried to reassure her the best he could with Bobby still being in their presence. Now that the owner of the Gold Canyon Ranch has moved away to do business, she’s glad Dean instantly rose to the occasion to pull her closer and let her know who he belongs to.

     “Want another drink?” Dean asks, not just his girlfriend, but the other people in his company as well while he takes the ranch’s credit card from his wallet.      Y/N notices the slight hint of hesitation in Jo’s expression before she answers, and she reckons it has something to do with the ridiculous prices on the venue, a beer being seven dollars. Four bucks might not sound like much, but when you start buying rounds, the money to be paid at the bar adds up. That card already got declined once today, and both she and Jo  don’t want Dean to deal with the same embarrassment the youngest Singer had to go through at the show office earlier.      “This round’s on me,” Y/N decides, digging up her own card from her back pocket.      “You don’t have to do that,” he objects under his breath, trying not to let his pride slip through.      “I’ll be glad to,” she counters quickly, not taking no for an answer, turning to the others. “Another beer? Jody? Donna? Glass of wine?”      Eagerly, Jo and Benny look up, completely in sync with the two women who they share the table with, all nodding at the offer, all nodding at the offer.

     “At least let me pick up the drinks then?” Dean offers before she gets up from her seat, not too keen of his girlfriend paying for him, but knowing that determined look in her eyes well enough to not go against her.      She agrees on the compromise with a sigh and gives him her card. “Three beers, two white wines and a coke for me.”      “No margarita?” he checks.      “No, sticking to the one. I have a ride to win tomorrow,” she explains, adding a smug smile.      Dean chuckles at that before he turns around, heading for the bar.

     Y/N takes a second to watch him walk away, wondering if she did the right thing. She doesn’t want him or the ranch to pay now that she knows they are low on money while she has plenty, but Dean seemed bothered. She gets it, the man is supposed to pay for the drinks, but this is the twenty-first century; she is just as entitled to pick up the bill as he is.

     “Y’know, you don’t have to keep savin’ us,” Jo comments, making sure that Donna and Jody, who are having a laugh with Benny, can’t pick up on the conversation.      “It’s okay, Jo,” Y/N assures. “It’s the least I can do. I don’t mind at all.”      “I know you don’t, but he might.” She nods at her cousin. “It’s a guy thing. My Dad’s the same way, you should have heard him when he found out you paid the fees because his card didn’t work. Old fashioned country boys seem to think the weight of the world is theirs to carry.”      The intern sniggers, hiding her concern. “Well, those country boys need to learn that us girls can take on that weight just fine.”

     She glances to the bar again, expecting her boyfriend to return with a tray of drinks, but when people move away and no longer obstruct her view, her breathing hitches. Y/N spots Dean casually leaning on the counter with his elbow, talking to a girl. The young woman is all smiles, raking her fingers through her wavy, blonde locks, the light above the bar shining down and highlighting the chemistry. She looks stunning; slim figure, long legs wrapped in torn jeans, exposing skin of her knees and thighs. When she leans forward while laughing at something he said, her cleavage is on display.

     As  the color drains from Y/N’s cheeks, Jo follows her friend’s fixated stare, her face falling when she notices the two by the bar. Dean doesn’t cross a line by any means, but it’s clear that the woman who took an interest in the head wrangler has every intention to persuade him.      “Who is she? You know her?” Y/N asks, the questions rapid and laced with worry.      “Yeah, that’s Jamie Sward,” Jo states.      “Please tell me it’s not one of his exes?” She rips her eyes away from the painful sight, shielding her face in embarrassment.      “‘Ex’ wouldn’t be the right word, but yeah, they did have an on and off thing in the past,” Jo admits carefully, not wanting to lie to her. “Sis, it’s fine. He’s an idiot, but he’s not that much of an idiot. They are  probably just talking.”      “Her breasts are hanging out of her shirt!” Y/N hisses frustrated, blood rushing to her face now, a contrast to her pale skin tone mere seconds ago.

     “So…” Jamie says, taking a sip from her drink while looking over her glass at the handsome wrangler. “What are you up to these days? Still working at Gold Canyon?”      “Yeah, kinda became furniture of the place. Don’t think I’ll ever leave to be honest,” he chuckles, watching the bartender preparing the drinks he ordered. “What about you?”      “Oh y’know, worked a few bars in Phoenix to pay for college, sulked over the fact that you stopped calling me,” the beautiful blonde returns, the smirk that accompanies her perked eyebrow telling him that she’s not too broken up about it.

     “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that,” he rubs the back of his neck, well aware that he ignored her messages the past month and a half.      “Don’t sweat it. We weren’t dating. Just having fun, right?” Jamie shrugs casually, setting down her drink again. “Talking about fun, I have a room at Days Inn if you’re interested.”

     The offer hangs in the air and it’s only now that Dean realizes he’s on thin ice here. When the blonde cowgirl approached him, somehow it didn’t dawn on him where the conversation was heading towards, simply because he’s not interested in her in the slightest. Ever since he met Y/N, he can’t bring himself to give a damn about any other woman, and Jamie is no exception.

     “I’m uh - I’m gonna have to say ‘no’,” he says, almost apologetic, not wanting to hurt her feelings, because she is a sweet girl. “Doesn’t have anything to do with you. I met someone and things have been really great--”      “Wait. Are you taken?” she interrupts, astonished. “Are you serious? You’re in a relationship?”      He nods, unable to stop a beaming smirk from showing. “Yeah. She’s awesome. I don’t get why everyone acts so surprised, though.”      “C’mon, Dean Winchester. With your reputation?” Jamie snorts. “But hey, no hard feelings. I’m happy for you.”

     She means it, he can tell. He gives her an appreciative nod as the bartender sets the last two beers on the carton tray, which Dean picks up from the bar.      “Right, I’m gonna get back to my girl. Good to see ya again, James,” he says before he leaves.      “You too, Dean. Good luck tomorrow!” she says cheerily, giving him a little wave before she heads off herself.

     With a content smile on his face, the head wrangler returns to the table. It’s only after he has given everyone else their drinks and sets down the Coca-Cola bottle in front of his girlfriend that he locks eyes with her and notices the stale, yet anxious look on her face.      “What is it?” he wonders.      “Jamie seemed awfully friendly,” she comments, fidgeting with the straw of her drink to have something to focus on.

     Dean lifts his head slightly as his jaw lowers. He tries not to roll his eyes and pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek. Right, that conversation might have looked a little different from a distance than how it actually went. The penny drops and he turns to face Jo and shoots her a glare. The fact that Y/N has learned the name of the woman he’s been talking to gives away that his cousin apparently revealed more than he would have wanted.      “Okay!” Jo takes her cue and clears her throat, deciding that this would be a good time to exit the conversation. “I’m gonna request some songs to dodge the awkwardness. Have fun, you two.”      The ranch owner’s daughter quickly sneaks past Dean towards the dancefloor, heading to the stage. Before Dean speaks, he glances aside to make sure the others won’t pick up on their conversation. Deciding that he wants some more privacy, he takes Y/N’s hand and beckons her to come with him to an empty booth on the side.

     “Y/N, listen. I don’t know what Jo said--” he starts, before she cuts him off.      “- Jo has nothing to do with this. She was actually defending you. Don’t tell her I told you that.” Y/N sits down on the bench next to him, knowing that her best friend wouldn’t be happy with Dean knowing that she actually did something nice for him. God knows he will hold it against her.      “Jamie and I were just talking. Yeah, we hung out a couple of times, but I don’t feel anything for her. Hey…” He takes her hand, squeezing it softly. “How many times do I have to tell you that I’m serious about us before you start believing me, huh?”

     He watches her take a breath, contemplating on what to say and on what to feel. Sure, a part of him gets it that she’s not a fan of the women who throw themselves at him. He didn’t like it one bit when Benny took an interest in her either, shutting that down immediately. Still, it hurts, because deep down he knows she assumes he will fall out of line.      “I believe you, it’s just that…” She exhales, shaking her head while she doubts herself more by the second. “I don’t believe the girls who have their eye on you have only good intentions.”      “You don’t have to worry about Jamie. She’s cool. And considering other flings and what not; it doesn’t matter. I don’t care what they want from me, because I know what I want for myself, and she’s sittin’ right beside me,” he tries to assure her, slipping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her closer. “You’re the only one I have eyes for, Yankee.”

     She looks up from under her lashes, his soft voice slowly beginning to ease her anxious mind. Dean casting those negative thoughts away only does one thing, though; it makes room for a different kind of self loathing.      “God, I’m such a bitch…” she says softly, rubbing her face with her free hand.      “No, you’re not. Don’t say that,” he dismisses, not wanting her to be so hard on herself. “But I need you to trust me.”

     Y/N eyes dart up to his, stunned, realizing that her behavior might have hurt him more than he’s letting on. He avoids her eyes, trying to mask the harm her actions did, but even in the dim light she can detect the damage. Of course she trusts him. She trusts him and Jo more than anyone on the ranch, yet it came across like she didn’t. Damn it, she could kick herself in the head right now. Jealousy isn’t a good look on her, neither is self-consciousness, but sometimes she can’t help but to feel intimidated and overwhelmed. He needs to know that it’s not his fault, though.      “Dean, I do trust you,” she promises, lacing her fingers with his, hoping to sooth him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t.”      He turns to look at her, allowing his thumb to rub over the smooth skin on the back of her hand. Despite her efforts, he can’t quite shake the feeling, but she doesn’t have to know that this bothers him more than it should. And so the corner of his mouth pulls up in a small smile as he looks deep into her eyes, and kisses her softly.

     The intimate connection brings more peace than they both expect. They have that effect on each other, that instant calm washing over with a small touch or a sweet kiss. It’s during moments like these that the insecurities lose their proof, the sources that are the patronizing and condescending voices in their heads suddenly unreliable.

     After a few peaceful seconds which silence his troubled mind, Dean moves his lips from hers, glad to see that the kiss worked the same wonders for Y/N. Her warm eyes look up at him when she leans into his chest.      “So we’re okay?” she checks, needing that confirmation.      “We’re okay,” he promises, leaving a kiss on her hair.

     The music changes, the lead singer persuading the attending guests to move to the dancefloor. As people leave their seats and gather, Jo emerges again and grabs her beer from the barrel table, carefully testing the water before she approaches the couple.      “Is the coast clear? I come in peace.” She holds up her hand innocently.      “Everything’s good,” Dean states, not just aiming at the bond between him and his cousin.      “In that case, can I steal your girlfriend?” Jo asks. “This is such a good song and I for one wanna dance!”

     Y/N’s face lights up, fueled by the blonde cowgirl’s contagious smirk. Before she slides out of the booth, though, she shares a look with Dean.      “Go, seriously. Have some fun,” he encourages.      “You’re not coming?” she wonders.      Dean scoffs. “Hell no!”      “Oh, come on!” Y/N tries again.      “It’s no use, Sis. Dean doesn’t dance. Not good for his John Wayne reputation,” Jo nags, taking her best friend’s hand to pull her to her feet.      “Wranglers don’t dance. They ride,” Dean defends, aggrieved.      “Alright, tough guy. You go stir in your own juices while you miss out on all the fun.” His cousin twirls around, dragging Y/N with her before she can change her mind.

     The most horrible and yet catchy country song ever made sounds from the amplifiers, ‘Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy’ covered by the band that is rocking it out on stage. A fiddler clad in a charming saloon dress like the women used to wear in the old West has joined them, adding spice with the crisp sound of her instrument.      Trying to get her best friend out of her funk, Jo pulls Y/N in the lines that have formed, without missing a beat getting into the choreographed series of steps that every cowgirl knows by heart. Laughing, Y/N joins her, getting the hang of the dance quickly.

     Dean has stood up and joined Jody, Donna and Benny at the barrel table, nursing his drink as he watches his Yankee dance it out. He lets the tension flow out of his chest with a deep breath, the ache melting away with the sight of her. The colored lights flick over her features in the same rhythm of the music, her hat hanging between her shoulder blades by the stampede string. Forgetting the troubles for a moment, she copies Jo’s motion, who pretends to rope a lasso above her head as she makes a circle, while shouting out the words back to the lead singer when he points his microphone to the dancing crowd. It makes Dean chuckle.

     “Well, that seems too jolly to miss out on,” Benny decides, holding out his elbow for Jody to hook her arm through. “Can I have this dance, darlin’?”      “Benny Lafitte, always the charmer,” the woman with pixie hair comments, but takes his offer, leaving just Donna and Dean.      They watch their friends, both with a pleased smile on their lips. It’s quiet for a while between old companions as they take in the carefree portrayal.      It’s the head wrangler of the Gold Canyon Ranch who eventually breaks the silence. “Thanks for the save.”      “What save?” Donna returns, pretending to be oblivious.

     He can see by her mischievous smirk that she’s well aware what he’s talking about; her bid on the Pinto at the auction. Donna never intended to buy the two year old stallion. She and Jody spent fifteen grand only an hour prior to the sale, and especially during current times, Dean can’t picture the girls spending another 7500 dollars on a second horse. He knew the moment Donna raised that sign; she was doing them a favor and drove up the price.      Dean throws her a knowing look, his eyebrow perked, triggering Donna to drop the act.      “That Pinto is a hell of a good horse. Would’ve been a good buy,” she grins. “If only I had done the final bid.”      Grinning, he takes a swig of his beer. He appreciates the help, knowing that the two female ranch owners will not spill the financial secret to anyone else in their circle. It’s safe with them, and he considers himself lucky to have friends like that. Everyone needs a hand sometimes, and he’s more than glad that Donna and Jody offered theirs in time of need.

     “Anyhoo, I’m gonna join the girls for a dance off. You should join us for a change. I’ll bet your belle would love it,” the broad-smiling woman suggests.      “She’s having plenty of fun without me,” he sniggers, watching her belt out the lyrics to the song with Jo.      “Okeydokes. But you’re missin’ out, handsome.” Donna winks at him, heading to the dancefloor with a spring in her step.

     Dean watches the cheery woman from Minnesota go, but his focus soon darts past her, immediately captured by the sight of Y/N. Damn, they could shut off the power and she would still light up the room. He can’t keep his eyes off her, the familiar swell of his heart once again taking up so much space that it’s hard to breathe. It’s not an unpleasant sensation, not anymore. It used to terrify him, feeling something so strong for a woman he’s known for such a short amount of time. But now when he feels it, it just strengthens his fondness and devotion for the girl who he wishes he had met years ago. Maybe he could have saved her the heartache that has her self-conscious about her place with Dean. Maybe his track record wouldn’t be so long that she would question him. He’s willing to do anything to make up for that time, though.

     As Jo and Y/N dance in circles around each other, clapping their hands and laughing, her gaze meets Dean’s. She’s caught off guard by the adoration in his eyes, his smile so warm and affectionate, that she slows her step. The good-looking cowboy she gets to call hers just stands there by himself, adding action to his words. He’s watching her as if she’s the only girl at the party, like she’s the only girl in the world.

     Y/N breaks away from her friends and steps towards him, swaying her hips a little more than she usually does. She shook the concern that weighed heavy on her earlier and got her footing back. A cheeky smile plays on her lips and her eyes sparkle, telling Dean instantly she’s up to no good.      When she reaches her boyfriend, she takes his forearm between both hands and pulls at it. “Come dance.”      “I don’t dance, Yankee,” he refuses, not budging.      The music changes to a new song, triggering cheers to rise from the small crowd. The new rhythm has her eyes go wide, then pleading.      “Oh, come on. This is a good song to move to!” Y/N begs, using all her strength to shift his tall form.

     He stands his ground, surprised at her physical strength, but the stand off is as much for his own sake as for hers. If he lets her go, she’s gonna land flat on her ass, but Dean spares her the embarrassment. The cowboy sighs, not that fond of being at the center of attention anyway, not to mention on the dance floor in this big tent. But how the hell is he going to say ‘no’ to her?      “One song,” he complies, strict on the conditions.      She jumps into the air excitedly and the delight in her eyes is already worth it. He adjusts his grip and laces his finger through hers, walking towards the dancing group of people, their friends amongst him.      Jo’s jaw drops to the floor when she notices Dean on her tail. “How the hell did you manage to drag his sorry ass over here?”      She wiggles her eyebrows. “I can be quite persuasive.”

     Her cowboy catches her by surprise when he tightens his hold on her hand, raising it and spinning her. When she comes full circle he pulls her in again, slipping his arm under hers and smoothly transitions into a two step. Completely flabbergasted, she grabs his shoulder and stares up at him with big eyes. Whoa, where the heck did that come from?      “I thought you couldn’t dance!” she giggles, while he leads her across the dancefloor, not missing a step.      “Never said that,” he smirks. “I just said I don’t dance.”      “Well, you’re dancing now,” Y/N returns, delighted.      He chuckles at that, looking deep into her eyes. “Only because the most beautiful girl at the party asked me.”

     They nail the routine, even though they’ve never teamed up on the dancefloor before. It’s not a complicated choreography, a simple one-two mixed with some country swing, but apparently it looks impressive enough to earn a ‘yee-haw!’ from Benny.      Y/N glances aside when the others rally them on, clapping in the rhythm of the song from the sideline, making room for the couple. Jo gives her two thumbs up, clearly entertained by the unexpected turn of events. She can’t stop her smile reaching from ear to ear when Dean twirls again, not missing the same expression on his face.

     The fiddle and guitar work together in harmony, throwing in a variation during the bridge of the song. Having her a little closer than at arms length, his right hand on her higher back, his left hand holding hers out to the side, they continue to move from one end of the open space to the other swiftly. The cowboy is enjoying himself, even though he was being a grump about dancing earlier. How can he not, now that he’s a witness of the pure joy his girl is radiating?

     The drummer finishes the song with a ruffle and the music dies down, the band receiving applause from the attending party-goers. Beaming, Y/N looks into Dean’s emerald green eyes, which sparkle every time the spotlight hits them. Dean was right; she’s having a blast, just like he predicted.

     Not ready to admit that he doesn’t really want to stop dancing with Y/N, he glances at the musicians, waiting for the next song. He narrows his eyes confused when he spots Donna, who got the attention of the lead singer. The young man has crouched down at the edge of the stage, Donna whispering something in his ear. Dean can see him nod in agreement before he rights himself and grabs the mic stand.      “Alright, y’all. I got a special request for a ballad just now. We’re gonna perform an original, so take your lady to the floor. Time to take things a lil’ slower.”

     He puts away his electric guitar and picks up the acoustic one, plugging it in. A romantic tune coming from the speakers when he strums the strings. Questioning, Y/N glances up at her boyfriend, almost sheepishly. Dean agreed to one song, which had a totally different vibe to the music that was sounding right now. The wrangler has been nothing but wonderful and sweet with her, but she doesn’t expect him to openly show how much he cares about her, especially with Bobby still present in the tent.

     But against the odds, Dean moves his extended hand that was still holding hers closer to his chest, letting it rest there. Gentle fingertips press into her skin as they sink to the small of her back, encouraging her to come close. He looks at her, the playfulness dying down and replaced with something deeper, something even more profound.

     I can’t count the times I almost said what’s on my mind, but I didn’t.      Just the other day, I wrote down all the things I’d say, but I couldn’t.      Baby, I know that you’ve been wondering.      So here goes nothing.

     Comfortable in his arms, Y/N lays her head against his chest, the soft thump of his heart beat and the slow swaying motion calming every nerve that was ever there. She couldn’t feel safer, more sheltered than in this very moment. Right now, she’s the only girl in the world. She couldn’t care less that she’s in the limelight, that everyone is a witness of the bond between them that’s strengthening each day. In fact, she feels proud. Dean stepped on the dance floor, just for her. He is showing a side of him not many are familiar with, just for her. If this doesn’t prove that he’s her man, and no one else's, nothing will.

     In case you didn’t know, baby, I’m crazy ‘bout you.      And I would be lying if I said that I could live this life without you.      Even though I don’t tell you all the time,      you had my heart a long, long time ago.      In case you didn’t know.

     Careful not to stand on her feet and ruin the moment, Dean continues to slowly sway her from side to side. Softly pressing his cheek against her hair, he shuts his eyes for a second, storing the memory amongst the other precious recollections. God, this feels beyond amazing.

     When he opens his eyes again, his gaze travels over the faces watching the pairs in front of the stage. Tensing slightly, he notices Bobby, who watches the two slow-dancing. His uncle shoots back a judgemental glare, seemingly not too pleased with the fact that there’s more going on between the supervisor and the intern than he originally thought. The head wrangler looks back guilty, grimacing awkwardly.

     “What is it?” Y/N wonders, apparently feeling him stiffening.      “I think we’ve been made,” Dean whispers in her ear, dipping down his head slightly.      “Bobby?” she assumes, concerned. “What should we… Should we stop?”      But Dean shakes his head, not caring about the ranch owner at this point. He’ll get over it, and if there was ever a right time to tell the old man, today, after the wins they so desperately needed, would be the day.      “Keep dancing,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss against her hair.        Y/N eases, leaning into him again, the space between the two decreased to the minimum. A breath slips from her lips, the air warm against his chest, even through his shirt. He can smell her shampoo lingering in her locks, mixed with her scent that’s so unmistakably hers. Slowly but surely, everything about her is becoming familiar, yet there’s not a single aspect of the woman before him that he takes for granted.

     The way you look tonight, that second glass of wine. That did it.      There was somethin ‘bout that kiss. Girl you did me in.      Got me thinking. I’m thinking.      One of the things that I’ve been feeling, it’s time you hear ‘em.

     Listening to the words, feeling the music reach his soul, he can’t help but to evaluate the thoughts that cross his mind and the emotions that leave him vulnerable. He knows he’s beyond falling in love at this point, but even if he could, he would never want to go back. Y/N is what he never knew he needed, yet it stuns him when that three word sentence settles on the tip of his tongue. He can’t tell her, though. Not yet. The way he’s holding her right now, how he softly leans into her, is the closest he can get to actually saying it out loud. God, he hopes she knows. Dean silently promises that one day he will tell her. One day.

     In case you didn’t know, baby, I’m crazy ‘bout you.      And I would be lying if I said that I could live this life without you.      Even though I don’t tell you all the time,      you had my heart a long, long time ago.      In case you didn’t know.

     The cowboy pulls back slightly, dipping his chin to establish eye contact again. The kindest smile awaits him, her beautiful orbs glazed over with emotion. She’s not sad, though, quite the opposite. She’s moved. No one has ever made her feel this whole. This is the true definition of happiness, being in his arms, him looking at her like he’s doing so now. Their noses brush when Dean leans in, then he moves his mouth to hers and captures her lips with his. The kiss is soft and slow, just like the music, just like the dance. But of all the intimate moments they shared so far, this has to be the greatest one yet. The thought swirled through her head before, but in this very moment, she is sure: she loves Dean. More than she ever thought she was capable of.

     You’ve got all of me.      I belong to you.      Yeah, you’re my everything.

     In case you didn’t know, baby, I’m crazy ‘bout you.      And I would be lying if I said that I could live this life without you.      Even though I don’t tell you all the time,      you had my heart a long, long time ago.      In case you didn’t know.

     From a distance, the company of four watches the couple. The dim light coming from the strings of lightbulbs above the dancefloor falls over them like a soft blanket, the spots by the stage illuminating their silhouettes. The vision before them is the definition of romance, one that silences the normally so chatty personalities on the sideline.

     Jody and Donna sigh collectively, swooning at the sight.      “I can’t...” The blonde ranch owner swoons. “I can’t with these two.”      “They are so good together,” Jody agrees, endeared.      Jo nods, proud of her friend, and secretly also of her cousin. “Gotta say, never thought I’d see it happen. If he can settle down, there’s still hope for all of us.”      “You guys can thank me with a beer,” Benny sniggers, his eyes not leaving the pair either.

     His comment earns a look from the three women in his presence. The farrier is about to move a beer bottle to his mouth, but pauses the action when he feels their eyes burning in the side of his head, demanding an explanation.      “Who do you think talked sense into the bastard and told him to get his act together, huh?” he brags, taking a sip of his drink.      “Who do you think told him to never let go of that girl and that he better put a ring on her finger?” Jody says, earning impressed nods.      “Who do you think requested this song?” Donna bounces back victoriously.      “Well then,” Jo holds out her bottle, waiting for the others to join her in a toast. “To the matchmakers!”

     Jody is the last one to raise her wine, her eyes not leaving the sight before them. “To love,” she adds.      The four agree to that, clinking their glasses together. After all, it’s what life is all about. Friends, family and that one person you’re going to share the rest of your life with.      They repeat her wise words with abandon. “To love!”

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part twenty-one here