#i don't remember the official lengths for the different words but i wouldn't call this a full length fic

[indeedcaptain]

Spirktober 2023, day 20: Protect

Protective!Spock is my favoriteeeeee <3 so here we go!!

Also posted on AO3 here!

☆☆☆

Starfleet, in its infinite wisdom, had changed the design of the cutlery in the mess halls, and Kirk hated the new ones.

They were balanced differently, they were less ergonomic, and --- as he bent down to regather the knife that had slipped down off his plate onto the floor for the third time in as many days --- they refused to stay where they were placed. 

He returned to upright to see Uhura and Bones staring in states of shock at Spock, seated next to him. Spock placidly spooned plomeek soup into his mouth and gave no indication that he was aware of their attention. He finished his meal, slid his spoon into the bowl, and stood. “I will be in Laboratory 7 for the remainder of Alpha shift,” he said. “Good-bye.” 

“Bye, Spock,” Uhura said faintly, and she and Bones watched him leave with that same slightly dazed look. 

“Alright,” Kirk said. “That’s enough. Why are you looking at him like that?”

Bones and Uhura looked at each other before answering, which was never a good sign. Uhura must have won whatever argument they were silently having, because it was Bones who sighed and said, “Jim, have you ever noticed that Spock is slightly… overprotective?” 

Kirk started. “Now, I wouldn’t call it over-protective,” he said, shifting in his seat. “He’s loyal. He’s a Vulcan. The ship and her crew are his responsibility, as first officer.” 

“Not with the crew, captain,” Uhura said. “It’s really just with you.” 

“I don’t think so,” he said. “Mr. Spock is the best first officer in the Fleet. Everyone says so. Protective? Sure. But we seem to get into trouble more than most, so that’s probably for the best.” 

Bones and Uhura exchanged another glance. “If you say so, captain,” Uhura said, and they finished the rest of their meal in relative peace. Kirk had nearly forgotten about the exchange until his padd pinged with a message from Bones as he was preparing to lay down for the night. 

>TheRealMcCoy: just saying

>TheRealMcCoy: [Attachment: securityfile3214-25.gif]

Kirk tapped on the gif and it opened. It was a looping video that Bones must have pulled from the security feed, or bribed someone else to pull, more likely. It showed a black and white view of the officer’s mess hall. Kirk saw the square table where he, Bones, Uhura, and Spock had shared lunch earlier in the day. He watched himself set down his knife, which promptly slid backwards off his plate and bounced to the ground. He saw himself bend over sideways to grab at it, ducking his head down beneath the level of the table. 

He saw Spock lean over and cover the corner of the table with his hand. He saw himself come back up, and as his head cleared the edge of the table he saw Spock straighten back up and return his hand to its standard position in his lap. 

Kirk sat down on his bed, expanded the .gif to fill his whole screen, and watched it again. He leaned down to grab the knife and Spock covered the sharp corner of the table with his hand until his head was safely away from it. He watched the .gif over and over again, memorizing the little protective gesture of Spock’s that he hadn’t even noticed at the time but was now immortalized in the security footage. Spock hadn’t even turned his head to look at Kirk before moving to cover the corner. How frequently had this happened? How many of these moments had Uhura and Bones seen that he hadn’t? 

>JTK: Huh 

>JTK: Okay

>JTK: I still don’t think it counts as OVER protective 

>JTK: does this happen a lot?? 

>TheRealMcCoy: the good lord gave you your own eyeballs 

>TheRealMcCoy: how about you use them

“Computer, lights to zero,” he said. He lay in the darkness, trying to sleep, unable to wipe the sight of Spock’s hand sliding over the table’s corner out of his mind. 

☆☆☆ 

Kirk watched his first officer carefully over the next few weeks, and it was an enlightening experience. Nothing in Spock’s behavior or demeanor had changed, but Uhura’s comment of “it’s really just with you” had latched in his brain and reframed how he saw the little quirks of Spock’s protectiveness. They sparred in the gym and, even though Spock threw him, Spock’s hand was behind his head before he hit the ground. They ate lunch in the mess hall and Spock inserted himself in the seat between him and the security officer with a peanut butter sandwich. And, without fail, when the new shitty knives slid off his plate and he had to retrieve them, Spock’s hand was between his head and the table’s edge every time. 

How had he never noticed this before? The Enterprise, when flying on her own, was not a particularly dangerous place. And yet almost every time he encountered something that was slightly hazardous to himself, Spock was there. Each observation warmed him. His stoic, unfeeling, deeply Vulcan first officer was protective of him. He still wasn’t sure if he would call it over-protective, though. 

Kirk did keep a small collection of .gifs on his padd when he could get the security video discreetly. He liked the proof. 

☆☆☆ 

Kirk thought that there was a slight possibility that Spock was a little overprotective of him when he went missing for only a few hours --- alright, was kidnapped like a damsel --- on an away mission and Spock went, according to all reports, absolutely berserk. His first introduction to this idea was Spock ripping the door to his cell clean off its hinges. He threw it behind him, where it hit the wall of the corridor with an almighty clanging, and stepped inside. Kirk stared at him from where he sat on the cot in the corner. Spock stared at him, chest heaving, face flushed green, and as he registered Kirk’s unharmed state and general air of relaxation his breath slowed until he was very nearly back to his normal appearance. 

“Hello there, Mr. Spock,” Kirk said, slightly bewildered. 

“Captain,” Spock said, inclining his head. He straightened his uniform shirt and clasped his hands behind his back. “I’m gratified to see that you are well. I believe you are free to go.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Spock,” he said, rising from the cot. “You were able to negotiate with the rogue faction?” 

“Yes, captain,” Spock said, and turned to follow Kirk out of the cell. “I found that they were willing to acquiesce to my demands rather quickly.” 

“That’s good, very good,” Kirk said distractedly as they walked down the hallway. He did not see any sign of his security team, and there were unconscious guards lying solo or in piles at regular intervals along the hall and down the stairs. He recognized his kidnappers from their clothing among the guards, but they were also all unconscious. 

“What, ah, negotiation tactics did you use, Mr. Spock?” Kirk asked as they ascended the stairs into the front hall and reunited with some red-shirted security officers. They stood around with their arms crossed, phasers holstered, and they gave no indication of having participated in any sort of strenuous activity. What had their role been in the fight with the guards…?

“Vulcan ones, captain,” Spock said, and if he noticed that the security officers stared at him with an interesting mix of respect and horror, he gave no outward indication. 

“Ah,” Kirk said. “That’s… good.” He had a feeling he could guess what Vulcan negotiating tactics were, but he reserved judgment until he had received mission reports from his other officers. Spock walked alongside him with his usual reserve, and as he was now free from the cell he had formerly been trapped within, Kirk found that he had no complaints of however Spock chose to negotiate on his behalf. 

On the ship, in his quarters, he read over the reports from his security team, which varied from professional to unfortunately creative, in mounting disbelief. 

First Officer Spock proved the efficacy of the Vulcan art of Suus Mahna in about thirty seconds… 

Science Officer Spock kicked down the door to the building and then neutralized the entire kidnapping party… 

Mr. Spock in combat is, in my professional opinion, somewhat of a demon… 

God help the man who gets between Spock and the captain. 

Kirk pressed his intercom button. “Mr. Spock, could you please come to my quarters for a moment?” 

“Yes, captain.” Spock’s response came immediately, and the man himself appeared in Kirk’s doorway about twenty seconds later. “How can I help you, captain?” 

Kirk handed the padds with the security reports to Spock and sat back down in his desk chair. “Could you please review these and let me know your thoughts on their accuracy?” 

Spock raised one eyebrow at him, but said, “Certainly, captain.” He stood in front of Kirk’s desk and methodically skimmed over each report. He set them down one by one until his hands were empty, and then he clasped them behind his back. 

“I believe these reports to be mostly accurate, if unfortunately unobjective,” Spock said. 

Kirk blinked. “So you did kick the door down.”

“Yes, captain.” 

“And you refused to wait for the security detail.” 

“I did not need them, captain.” 

“And you neutralized the entire threat before ripping my cell door off the hinges.” 

“I believe you witnessed the second part firsthand, captain.” 

“I see,” Kirk said, and covered his hand with his mouth to hide his smile. When he had regained control of his face and looked suitably serious, he said, “Mostly accurate? What in the reports is false?” 

Spock straightened the pile of padds on the desk in front of him, forcing them into perfect alignment. “I do not believe there is a god in this universe that could help the man that stood between us. Good night, captain.” He turned on his heel and left, leaving Kirk gaping at the space he had left behind. He looked back at the stack of padds on his desk to his closed door once more, replaying Spock’s departing words to him in his head.

“I’ll be damned,” Kirk said. He had never been one for pick-up lines, and he wasn’t even sure if that was one, necessarily, but… that was one hell of a pick-up line. He made copies of the security reports and added them to his little folder of proof and if he smiled to himself while he washed his hair in the shower then it was nobody’s business but his own. 

[zerobaselove]

an arm's length | kim taerae

pairing: taerae x reader

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 951

warnings: some minor swearing. lowercase intended, not proofread

notes: loooooove me some angst into fluff. i feel like this is still kinda rough but i got a couple angst with a fluff ending requests for taerae so i thought i'd fulfill those :D i hope u all enjoy <3

close, but not close enough to burn. that was your rule. never let anyone close enough to burn you, don't let yourself get hurt. you had lived by those words for as long as you could remember, and you were pretty good at sticking to them; until kim taerae came along. and now you find yourself basking in the warmth, not worrying about the flames.

that would be your downfall, you just knew it. but you couldn't help it, couldn't help but getting close. keeping an arm's length turned into keeping yourself in his arms, and you didn't know how to handle it. didn't know how to go back to being cold.

sure, the two of you weren't anything official. nothing more than two friends.

two friends who kissed behind closed doors. two friends who fell asleep together more often than not. two friends who danced around the word love as if it would suddenly make everything too real, too fast. as if it would ignite and burn everything you had done, just like it burnt the walls you had built up.

even just the thought of love, the prospect of it all; of loving him, and the potential of him loving you back. the feeling tore at the walls of your heart brick by brick. years of hard work crumbling before your very eyes.

you were falling, you knew that. whether you meant for him, or falling apart, nobody would ever know. was there even really a difference?

fight or flight. a human's innate response to dealing with a threat. even if that threat was on your heart. and what would save you from falling? flying.

so you couldn't have been too surprised at the pounding at the door one night, opening the door slowly to reveal a disheveled and worried taerae. the one who had shown you what it meant to love, who made you face the fear of falling.

taerae was looking how you were feeling; a mess. out of breath from presumably running up the stairs to your front door, hair disheveled and glasses askew on his face.

"i have't heard from you in days," he panted out, "and when i tried to call you it wouldn't even ring through, i thought something happened." his voice was laced with worry, and you couldn't stop your heart from beating out of your chest. he cared. he really cared.

you opened the door wider, ushering him inside to take a seat in the familiar living room. "sorry about that," you muttered, remembering why you were ignoring him in the first place, "my phone's been dead and i just forgot to charge it." only a partial lie. your phone really was dead, but not for the last week or so that you hadn't messaged him.

"that's bullshit and you know it," he shook his head, "just talk to me."

talking. easier said than done with a heart seemingly beating in your throat. it didn't leave much room for the words to push past, now did it?

sitting opposite of him on the couch, the two of you sat in silence. the tension was so thick you felt like you were choking on it, trying not to breathe it in; your chest tightened, clawing for a breath of air. and so, you stopped holding your breath. you let yourself be vulnerable, even for a moment.

"i'm scared," you breathed out, not knowing what else to say. you hadn't thought this far ahead, but the softened eyes and small, urging smile seemed to help the words form.

"i just," another deep breath, "i'm scared because, i've never felt this way about someone. i've never let myself be vulnerable, and it's terrifying." you don't know when his hand found it's way to yours, but you were thankful for it, for the way it tethered you back to the earth and away from your mind. "i love what we are, and i want it, want you, permanently. but i can't get past the voice in the back of my head saying that i'm going to ruin it, or that i'm gonna get hurt again."

you felt like you were running out of breath, taking a moment for another inhale and exhale before letting the words continue to spill.

"kim taerae, i don't know how you did it but you got past the walls that i had built up, the ones meant to keep you out, meant to keep my feelings locked away. and now you're here, and i want you here," you choked on the tears now rolling down your face, "but i'm scared."

taerae gently lifted his free hand to wipe the tears from your cheeks, looking at you with more fondness than you were even sure was possible. "i'm scared too y/n," he pressed his lips together, "every day i am terrified that maybe you don't want me beyond our bedroom doors, that beyond the threshold, i'm just another friendly face to you."

he lightly squeezed your hand as the tears threatened to spill from his own eyes. how long had his eyes been so glossy? so full of stars, and yet so full of the fear of a sky without them.

he took a moment to collect himself, now holding both of your hands in his. "but it's a lot less scary alone," he smiled gently, "you don't have to be scared alone, not anymore"

the tears had begun rolling again as you leaned in to press a chaste kiss to his lips, feeling his own tears on your cheeks, mixing with your own.

maybe falling wasn't so bad, as long as you had a partner to do it with.

[beantothemax]

Ochette made a point of visiting at least once a month, but it'd been nearly six since she last stepped foot in Hinoeuma. It was difficult finding the courage to face them again.

After the incident, she could hardly speak with anyone. Everyday was spent hidden in a tent, allowing only Mahina and Juvah to see her. But after words of encouragement from the latter, she finally left.

Now, she stood outside castle Ku with her new and detested walking stick. It didn't replace the tail she had lost, but it helped. With it, she had learned to walk as fast as before, but just holding it reminded her of that damned asshole.

Pushing those memories aside, she entered the castle. Guards and maids greeted her. They had all learned to set their differences aside, and appreciate her for the kind, loving person she was. (Hikari fired the first person to call her a slur)

She searched for the drawing room, but was found first.

"Ochette!" Agnea said.

Ochette didn't have time to speak before Agnea hugged her.

"Lady Agnea, that behavior isn't fitting for royalty!" her maid said.

"Oh cut me some slack, Ochette is more important than any titles," she groaned.

The maid sighed but didn't protest. She was there to teach Agnea about behavior fit for a queen, but there was no getting between the queen-to-be and her beloved Ochette.

"Hi Agnie," Ochette murmured.

"Why haven't you visited? Hikari and I have been worried sick, we sent you so many letters!" Agnea said.

"I know, I got all of them and they were nice, I've just been unwell."

"Unwell? How so?"

She knew what to say. She had rehearsed the sentences and possible responses for her entire trip there. But now, they refused to form in her throat. All that came out was a stifled cry.

Finally giving up, she reluctantly pointed to her tail.

"Are you injured?" Agnea asked.

She looked and nearly stumbled back in surprise.

The once long and fluffy tail had been cruelly chopped to half it's length. It was no longer any good for balancing and the end ached constantly.

"Gods, I'm so sorry honey," Agnea whispered.

And with that, Ochette broke down in tears. She cried and cried as though it was still fresh. Agnea's maid finally realized the gravity of the situation and left to fetch Hikari.

Agnea led Ochette to Hikari's room. Officially, it was only Hikari's, but she slept there so often they might as well have shared it. Ochette sat down on the bed and smelled the oh so familiar sheets. They smelled of love and safety.

"D'ya wanna talk about how it happened?" Agnea mumbled.

Just thinking about it, Ochette flinched. It was such a terrifying ordeal. She didn't want to think about it. But perhaps it was necessary. She'd never told another soul, maybe it would be easier if Agnea knew.

"Sure," she said, "Cohazeh and I were visiting New Delsta. I think it was for trade, I don't remember. I- I- when-"

Those dammed words wouldn't leave her mouth. Why was this impossible to talk about? Talking about Tera or Heig was nothing, why was this so different? It only lasted a few minutes.

"We could wait until you feel a bit better," Agnea suggested.

Ochette could only nod as tears threatened to pour if she tried to speak. The dancer took her into her arms, and they sat there for a long time. The hunter cried but at least she was safe.

They both looked up when the door creaked open. Hikari's face softened at the sight of Ochette.

"It's nice to see you again, I was so worried about you," he moved calmly but his voice betrayed him.

It wavered as he spoke, he was just as fragile as the others. The moment he shut the door, he ran to join the girls. He half tackled Ochette as he hugged her, and she fell backwards on the bed.

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner," Ochette mumbled.

"You're here now, that's all that matters. I've delayed all my meetings and work, so we have two days to spend together," Hikari smiled softly.

He moved Ochette so her head would be on a pillow before lying beside her. He hugged her tight and kissed the crown of her head.

"We'll always love and care for you, don't forget that," he whispered.

Agnea pulled the blankets over the three of them and lay beside Ochette. She stroked the hunter's hair. It was always soft and well kept.

Ochette wondered why she'd been so scared to face them. They weren't upset or dissapointed, only happy that she had returned. She lay in their arms. Safe, warm and comfortable. A future without a tail didn't sound as scary with Agnea and Hikari there.

PIE. PIE WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT TGE FUCJ WHY DID YOU DO THAT TO HER OCHETTE IS THE SWEETEST KINDEST CHARACTER IMAGINABLE AND YOU FUCKING CHOP HER TAIL IN HALF

ADN. AND WE DONT EVEN FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENED… WHO THE FUXK DID THIS TO HER

agnea being so unrelentingly there for ochette never fails to make my heart hurt because she cares so so much about her i want to cry

despite this being angst the whole Ort at the end with agnea and hikari givin ochette so so many hugs and kisses… that was a nice band-aid over my gaping wound

pie how in the actual hell do you write so well. what black magicks do you use.

[inspired-by-the-music]

Ardently

Part One: First Impressions

Pairings: Kyungsoo x OC, Jongin x OC

Genre: enemies to lovers

Word Count: 2k

taglist: @jineunwootrash​

Note: (oof a long note, here we go) Here is the first chapter from a Kyungsoo fic I will be working on. This is based on Pride and Prejudice; it is set in present-day, in the K-Pop industry. I’m experimenting with writing in first person, and the main character is named Maisa. There will be a few original characters in this story, and I am very excited because this is the first time I will write a full-length fic for this blog that is not mostly a Social Media AU. I will likely not post the rest until I have finished the story just so I will have plenty of time to develop and edit my ideas without publishing plot holes, but I was just too excited about this idea to keep it all to myself. I realllllllly hope you like it! -Ash

I couldn’t remember the last time I saw Jongin. The many years we spent together as children didn’t prepare us to be separated for months at a time because of his busy schedules as an official S.M. Entertainment idol. Although he never failed to brighten my day through texts, phone calls, and FaceTimes, nothing compared to seeing his smile in person. 

Will Taemin be somewhere in this building? I wondered as I approached the S.M. building where Jongin asked to meet. Surely he’s here somewhere. SHINee has just finished a tour in Japan. 

I squirmed at the thought of Taemin, not because we had some kind of disagreement or because I was as starstruck as almost every other person in the world, but because I had been avoiding him for what now seems like a very childish reason. 

Taemin had ventured far beyond the poor town we— he, Jongin, and I— had been raised in, and his fame grew daily. I wasn’t jealous— not maliciously, anyway— but I felt that he and I were living in very different worlds, and I worried that if I spent too much time with him, he would realize it too. 

This fear would have threatened my friendship with Jongin, too, if he wasn’t so determined to honor our childhood promise to be best friends forever.

However, when he smiled warmly as he stepped through the glass doors and drew me into a tight embrace, my fear was quickly quelled and replaced with confidence that Jongin would remind grounded at my side no matter how high his talents dared him to soar. And I couldn’t decide if that made me feel relieved or guilty. 

“So where’s this little restaurant you’re so obsessed with?” I asked as he released me. 

Pointing across the street, he replied, “Just there.” And when I tried to follow his directions he grabbed me by arm and said, “But first— I’ve convinced one of the executives to meet with you!”

"What?" My jaw dropped.

How had I not seen through the lunch invitation that thinly veiled Jongin's thousandth attempt to coerce one of his bosses into giving me a job? I had likely forgotten about that goal of his since his efforts never succeded past a few uncomfortable phone calls where I stubbornly maintained that, "I don't want to owe you or Taemin." But now that he dragged me into the building, a conversation with some professional executive seemed inevitable. 

"Ew!" Jongin shrieked and dropped my hand as soon as the elevator doors closed behind him and effectively trapped me into his plan. "Your palms are really sweaty." While wiping his hands off on his jeans, he advised, "You should see a doctor about that."

I argued," Clammy palms are a natural response to sudden extreme stress!" Still, I blushed at his observation and tried to pass my colored cheeks off as a symptom of annoyance by asking, "How could you trick me into some kind of job interview? I was promised sushi!"

Jongin laughed, probably mistaking my authentic blossoming panic for theatrics. "Don't worry, Mai, you'll still get your sushi-- you'll just get a chance at your dream job first."

His natural optimism should have been some sort of comfort. Instead, I crossed my arms, pressed my back against the cold steel elevator door, and mumbled, "Don't be ridiculous, Jongin, nobody would hire some random girl off the streets to write songs-- especially not one of the big three."

Ever determined to disagree, Jongin grabbed my shoulders, looked me in the eyes, and  reminded me, "You're not just some random girl-- you're my best friend, you're insanely talented, and on the off chance that Mr. Lee doesn't see that, I'll get you a meeting with everyone in this industry until you're hired."

Maybe it wasn't the best pep talk in history, but I swear that Jongin's smile could inspire anyone to do just about anything, so I shamelessly followed him out of the elevator, holding my head high. I only faltered when he stopped abruptly and said, "Wait here. Let me make sure Mr. Lee isn't busy."

Instantly, my confidence evaporated. The hall was eerily silent except for the clicking of keyboards that escaped from the  few open office doors, so I quietly hissed, "You mean you don't even have an appointment?"

Jongin held a finger up to his lips. Perhaps sensing my screaming instinct to run, he repeated, "Wait here. I'll be right back." He tapped his knuckles against the sleek black door, just under a gold sign that read Soo-man Lee: CEO, and he winked at me before entering the room at Mr. Lee's beckoning. 

Suffice it to say that I wasted no time racing back to the elevator once Jongin was out of sight. It wasn't that I wanted to disappoint Jongin or seem ungrateful of his efforts, but meeting the CEO of S.M. Entertainment seemed like a giant leap rather than the first step toward my dream of composing music. The fact that I was unprepared and uninvited made the whole situation feel like a nightmare-- not at all like a dream come true. 

As my tennis shoes slapped against the marble floor, I decided that I could easily beg for Jongin's forgiveness, and he would kindly grant it, but I could never reclaim my pride after being rejected by S.M. I could never recover from the crushing determination that I wouldn't get to achieve my dreams alongside Jongin and Taemin. I preferred to keep telling myself "someday, someday soon," because then I would never have to face the absolute of "never--you aren't good enough."

When did I become so paralyzed by fear? My thoughts stunned me. I considered myself bold, unafraid to speak my mind, in all manners except the pursuit of my deepest dream. What good is it to be brave except when it really counts?

As I struggled to no avail to find an answer within myself, somebody rounded the corner at a sprint and collided with me. With what felt like a  thundering crash, I fell onto my back. My string of curses complimented that of whoever ran into me, but I was initially too dazed to glance at him. 

When I finally sat upright and glared at him, prepared to lecture him for failing to offer so much as an apology, I noticed that he was too busy gathering his scattered papers to even realize that he knocked me down. I was going to ask where he was going that was so important-- or if he had ever heard of a paperclip-- but I was shocked into silence when he looked at me over his glasses with eyes blown wide. 

I never imagined that I would meet Do Kyungsoo while running away from a job interview with the CEO of S.M. Entertainment that was set up by my best friend to help me achieve my dream. Actually, I never imagined that I would meet him at all, and I certainly never dreamed that he could be so rude as to ask, "Who are you looking at?"

Overwhelmed by an unprecedented blend of awe, embarrassment, and blind rage, I stuttered around an answer until he dismissively waved my babbling away. "Forget it. I don't have time for this."

Once I was away from him, I knew, I would think of a thousand ways to put him in his place. I wondered, what good is wit when it isn't quick when it counts? Quickly, I resolved to scramble to my feet and out of the building before matters could worsen. 

"Hey wait." 

I never would have admitted that my heart swelled with the rise of his voice because I assumed that he would apologize (for running into me and then for being so rude) and that I might be lucky enough to have one of those romantic first meetings that I learned about from Jane Austen and K-Dramas alike. 

But when I turned to face him, he stood tall, papers in hand, pushed the glasses further up the bridge of his nose, and ordered, "Bring me coffee and a cinnamon bagel from the kitchen; I'll be in Mr. Kim's office."

Had he not been staring right at me, I would have thought he was talking to somebody else.

Only when he turned around, started down the hallway, and freed me from his oppressive gaze did I find my voice. "No, I won't get your breakfast. First of all, it's well past noon, and second, I don't know where that is!"

Kyungsoo rounded again, his mouth slightly agape as if he assumed I was mute. His eyebrows knit together as he asked, "You don't know where the kitchen is? Or where Mr. Kim's office is?"

"Neither."

Unwilling to hear the explanation that this was my first (and likely only) time in the S.M. Building, and I wasn't here of my own choice, and-- above all-- I was not his servant, Kyungsoo demanded, "What good are you then? Does the help around here know anything these days?"

And just as I stormed toward him, dangerously close to succumbing to my temper's urging, Jongin appeared at Kyungsoo's side, locked eyes with me, and cheered, "There you are!"

Jongin would have had to be blind to miss how Kyungsoo and I glared at each other, each silently daring the other to say just one more word to justify our impending outburst. In what must have been an attempt to lighten the mood, he laughed, "I should have known you would run off to catch a glimpse of your bias."

I opened my mouth to rob Kyungsoo of the flattery by telling Jongin that I officially decided to change biases, but I was interrupted by Kyungsoo asking, "So you know this girl?"

Jongin joyfully thew an arm around my shoulders and, contrasting greatly against Kyungsoo's disgusted, disbelieving tone, cheerfully declared, "Oh yeah! Maisa has been my best friend forever. And you should get used to her, D.O., because she's gonna be the best songwriter in S.M.'s history!"

Jongin's boasting about me was never quite as humiliating as right then, when Kyungsoo simply rose his eyebrows and questioned, "She will?"

Don't misunderstand-- I wasn't offended because I was oozing with self-confidence or because I was so convinced that I was destined to be some composing legend. In fact, I had absolutely no confidence that Jongin's last-minute surprise interview would work to my advantage in the slightest. Had he not offended me from the moment our eyes met, I would have agreed that Kyungsoo's skepticism was supported by all rationality, but given the events of those past five minutes, I literally bit my tongue to keep from snapping at him for Jongin's sake. 

Without missing a beat, Jongin answered, "Definitely," and steered me back to Mr. Lee's office before I could bite through my tongue or say anything regrettable. 

Once I regained control of my thoughts, I started, "What a-- a--"

But I struggled to fathom an insult becoming of Kyungsoo. Finally, I settled on screaming, "Douche canoe!" with no concern for whether Kyungsoo, Soo-man Lee, or anyone else in the building heard. 

Jongin must have expected a tantrum, because he merely blinked and warned, "You shouldn't let Kyungsoo under your skin." He leaned against the wall beside the CEO's door, tried to nudge me out of my frustration, and claimed, "Seriously, Mai, he's just not one for first impressions--"

Although unamused, I laughed. "That has to be the biggest understatement ever. He isn't even half as pleasant as the most disagreeable character he's ever played--"

"Maisa!" Jongin interrupted. I only closed my mouth when I noticed his protruding pout. "We'll talk about Kyungsoo later because I know you're not gonna get over it any time soon. But for now, get in there and convince Mr. Lee that you belong in an office brainstorming lyrics, not locked away in the kitchens!"

I barely managed to quizzically repeat, "The kitchens?" before being shoved into the office.