#like I’d be perfectly happy to just be a secretary my whole life

[strawberryshortpace]

Normalize smart people not wanting to do some really hard job

[torreshalstead]

On a crowded street in 1944 - Chapter 3

Summary - The four walls of Upton’s General Store were all Hailey knew although she longed to see what else life had to offer. When a handsome soldier walks through the door, she thinks he might just be the answer to the life she wants to have. But it was 1944 and the country was at war. Would fate smile on her or would her heart be another casualty of the war?

Chapters - 3/15

Notes - Wasn’t sure if I could find a time to post tomorrow so thought I’d do it today, hope you enjoy! AO3 Link

The conversation flowed easily between them, like water running down the street after a storm passed through. Hailey didn’t even notice the minutes spinning by into hours, perfectly content to just be present in the moment with him. There was something about Jay. She didn’t know what it was, maybe he was just the first boy she had ever had such a deep conversation with, but she didn’t want the night to end. She’d stay sat here forever if she could. And although she would never be so forthright and ask him, she truly hoped he felt the same.

‘So apart from being a secretary, which you will be by the way,’ Jay smiled kindly, ‘what else do you want from your life, Miss Upton?’

‘You ask the hard questions Mr Halstead,’ she quipped back. No one had ever asked her anything more than did she want to work in the store her whole life. And she usually answered that with a lie. Sometimes people didn’t actually want to know the truth, they just wanted the easy answers. But Jay wasn’t like that.

‘You deserve a chance to tell the hard answers,’ he responded and Hailey was struck again by how different he was to anyone else she had ever met.

‘I want to be happy,’ she said after a moment's thought.

‘Happy,’ Jay repeated with a soft smile. ‘I think that sounds like the most important thing.’

‘I mean alongside being a secretary I’d like to get married, have some children and enjoy being a mother, but I want to be happy above all else,’ she admitted, a little blush spreading to her cheeks.

‘Are you happy now?’ Jay asked.

‘Yes,’ Hailey said truthfully, surprised at her own honesty. ‘In this exact moment in time, I am.’ She smiled and hoped he understood everything she wasn’t saying. It wasn’t the done thing to tell a boy you had just met that he made you happy, even if every word of it was the truth. But she wanted him to know.

‘Then I am glad,’ Jay said.

‘What about you?’ Hailey asked, ‘when you come back home, what do you want to do?’ She heard Jay’s breath hitch and she knew why - there was no guarantee he would come back home. It was war after all, and no matter how happy someone made someone else, it was not a given, God knows it wasn’t a given. He answered her anyway though and Hailey was thankful.

‘I’d like to have an impact, you know,’ he said, flashing her his honest smile again. ‘Have a positive impact on those around me. I’m not quite sure how yet, but as long as I am doing something good, I’ll be happy.’

‘And that’s the most important thing,’ Hailey said softly, echoing his own words back to him.

‘That it is,’ he said with a smile. They fell back into the comfortable silence again, the air thick with everything they weren’t saying. It was Jay who broke the silence. ‘How many children do you want?’

Hailey thought if anyone else had asked her that question she would have told them it was inappropriate to ask or that she would be happy with how ever many God chose to grace her with, but not with Jay.

‘I’d like two, perhaps three,’ she pondered. ‘Being an only child can be lonely, and I wouldn’t want my child to grow up lonely.’ Hailey always imagined that in other families, it might not be so lonely growing up alone, but in hers, loneliness is exactly what she experienced. It was probably why she enjoyed reading so much, a chance to escape from the solitude.

‘Two or three sounds like a perfect number,’ Jay agreed. ‘Growing up with Will, well we had each other even when we didn’t have anybody else,’ he admitted, his shoulders raising in a small shrug.

‘What was it like having a brother?’ She asked, she twisted slightly so she was leaning against the back of the bench with her elbow and was facing him with more than just her head. She knew her mother would throw a fit if she saw her talking to a boy like this rather than remaining formal and in her words ‘proper’. But she didn’t necessarily want to stay formal with Jay, she was comfortable with him.

‘Like a fairground ride,’ he chuckled. ‘Some days it was all fun and games, you’ve got a built-in playmate but we were also both strong minded and could be stubborn so we’d get on each other’s nerves sometimes.’ Jay shrugged lightly. ‘He’s still my best friend though, I miss him a lot.’

Hailey had no words for that, she had never had a brother or had someone leave to go and fight overseas so she didn’t know what it was like to experience that longing. But she could see from the change in Jay’s facial features that it was painful, the emotion hitting him somewhere deep inside.

‘I’m sorry Jay,’ she said quietly and breaking all the protocol that had been drummed into her as a young girl, she bravely reached across and placed a hand on Jay’s arm. He looked down at it, and for a second she worried that he hadn’t wanted her to cross that line. Her worries were unfounded however when he reached up with his other hand and threaded his fingers through hers and let their joined hands fall onto the bench.

She had never held hands with anyone who wasn’t her mother or father before, and the last time she had done that had been years ago. But the feeling of his larger hand completely encompassing her smaller one was wonderful. She suddenly felt safe, that her father could appear right now and demand her back to the store and she might have the gumption to say no to him, to stand her ground with Jay’s hand in hers.

‘I think that’s another reason I signed up,’ he admitted. Clearly he was also getting the same boost of bravery from their touching skin that she was. ‘If we are at least on the same continent, fighting for the same thing, maybe I’ll feel close to him again.’ He sighed. ‘I know I’m supposed to say I did it to fight for freedom and my country, but there’s more to it than that.’

‘I think it’s as good a reason to sign up as any other,’ Hailey said warmly.

Jay glanced around her to the park surrounding them. ‘It’s late,’ he said, his smile faltering slightly. ‘I should walk you home before your mother wonders where you are.’

Hailey looked around too, the only light was now coming from the street lights and there were no longer any other occupants in the park. He was right, they shouldn’t be caught alone in the park together, she would never be permitted to leave the store until her father passed if they did. She nodded and unlaced her fingers to get up, straightening her skirt as she did so.

He offered her his arm and she smiled, happily sliding her hand through the crook of his elbow and allowing him to lead the way as they strolled towards the exit of the park. Hailey noticed he was walking significantly slower than he had when they had made their way in a few hours previously. She wasn’t complaining, she was suddenly aware that her time with Jay was limited, the minutes ticking by until she would have to say goodbye to him. And she didn’t want that time to arrive.

She had only met him today, but she’d read enough books to know sometimes it only takes a day. A day to feel everything she had ever wanted to feel. To feel everything she was never sure she would feel. That she might truly be feeling about the man whose arm she was currently clutching.

The streets that had been crowded when they had walked through earlier, were now almost empty. A couple of other couples were lingering under street lights, clearly Hailey wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to say goodnight.

He walked her to the store, stopping underneath the street light, the same place he had greeted her earlier - a full circle moment.

‘So you’ll write me?’ He asked, seemingly less confident than earlier.

‘I will,’ she said, a small smile gracing her lips.

‘I know it’s not manly to say, but I’ve had the most wonderful evening with you Hailey,’ he admitted and Hailey felt the blush on her cheeks rising to match the colour that had appeared on Jay’s freckled complexion.

‘I have too,’ she smiled. There was so much more that she wanted to say, but at the same time, she had no words to describe the complex emotions she was experiencing.

‘Would it be awfully forward of me to kiss you?’ He asked, his voice softer than a cloud and Hailey felt her stomach clench.

‘Probably,’ she whispered but before his expression had a chance to drop she added, ‘but I don’t care,’ she breathed out with a smile.

His smile grew, wider than she had seen it the whole night. He reached up to cradle her face in his hand, the rough skin of his thumb brushing against her soft cheek, electricity sparking at the contact. She was about to be kissed. For the first time in her life, a boy was going to kiss her.

He slowly moved in, cautious even though she had given him permission, his lips getting closer to hers with every second. Before she had a chance to panic that she didn’t know what you did when your lips connected with someone else's, his lips touched hers.

They were soft. Soft and perfect against her own. They were warmer than she thought they would be and the perfect amount of pressure. She could feel the breath exhaling from his nose against her cheek, and there was a tingling below her navel that she had never felt before. His hand was still in hers and her immediate reaction was to clutch it even tighter, as if to ground herself back to the present when her mind wanted to get lost in the kiss.

When he pulled back, it felt like both only a second had passed and that she had been experiencing that moment for a lifetime. He leant forward and rested his forehead against hers.

‘Wow,’ he said and she giggled. He pulled back, his face pulled into a mock offended expression. ‘Was my kiss funny to you Miss Upton?’ He sassed her.

‘Not at all,’ she said, shaking her head quickly. ‘I’ve just read about kisses taking your breath away and leaving you lost for words. I guess I never expected it to actually make a person feel like that.’

‘But it did,’ he said with a soft smile.

‘It did,’ she admitted, her eyes swimming with affection.

‘And now I shall have to bid you goodnight Miss Upton,’ he said, reluctantly letting go of her hand. ‘I shall never forget tonight.’

‘I shall remember it forever,’ she said, a far more romantic admission than she thought she would ever make. She watched him as he doffed his cap again, just like he had when he had greeted her that morning.

That morning felt so long ago now, that she was a completely different person than she had been when she had welcomed him to Upton’s General Store. She didn’t know how she would spend her time working behind that darn counter again now she knew what it was like to share a kiss with someone.

Jay turned to walk away but not before he smiled again at her, raising his hand to his chest and giving her a small nod. She knew what the gesture meant. He had stolen her heart as well in just a few short hours, and he was telling her she had his.

She waited until he was out of sight to let herself in through the back door, letting herself fall against it when it had closed, her fingers raising to her lips and the tears starting to prick at the corners of her eyes.

[taelme]

Enemies-to-lovers!Bang Chan

request: Hey! Can i request and enemies to lovers slow burn with bang chan where they dont like each other but theres undeniable chemistry

genre: enemies-to-lovers!au, workplace/office!au, (fluff, slow burn, lots of denial of feelings lol) 

pairing/s: Chan / Reader (ft Seungmin and some ocs!) 

word count: 21k rip I got pretty carried away 

tw: not any prominent ones that I can think of, kind of hints of the whole misogyny in the workplace kind of thing 

a/n: I got super carried away writing this I hope you guys like it haha im currently working on the other requests so do look forward to those!! ill try to put them out as soon as I can~~ all this staying at home is really giving me time to write... ( I HAD TO use this gif I just HAD TO) but yes this was a little hard to find reasons why y/n wld hate chan bc im for the chan is an angel agenda but I ended up having so much fun ok BYE 

“Hey, you free to get lunch later?” You’d bumped into your friend who worked in the company’s legal department, Seungmin, on a Thursday morning while you were in the pantry preparing coffee and tidbits for your boss. 

You nodded, “uh-huh,” mixing the coffee absently, “what are you doing here?” 

Seungmin shrugged, leaning against the counter as he munched on a cookie, “felt like taking a walk. Things have been pretty busy in the legal department lately.” 

“Why?” 

Seungmin gave you a cheeky smile, shrugging, “can’t say, but you’ll find out soon enough.” 

You rolled your eyes, gritting your teeth with feigned menace towards him (his smile stayed unwavering, even sticking his tongue out at you to mock you).

“Who’s that for?” Seungmin gestured to the coffee mugs on the tray. 

“Mr Bang’s supposed to be meeting his nephew or something, he made it seem really important but all he told me was that it’s for his nephew,” you shrugged, glancing down at your two cups of coffee, realisation hitting you. 

“Shit, that just reminded me. He said his nephew doesn’t drink coffee. Do you want this?” You shot Seungmin a pleading look, holding up your now unneeded cup of coffee. 

Seungmin scoffed, taking the mug from you wordlessly, “how exciting your job is, huh,” he deadpanned, sipping the coffee, “wanna reconsider joining the legal department now?” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“I’m perfectly satisfied with my job now, thank you very much.” 

You’d prepared a pot of tea, careful not to spill the water onto the counter as you did so, transferring the pot onto your tray, “and plus, considering the amount of money I get paid for the amount of work I do, I’m more than happy.” 

Seungmin scoffed, “should’ve known it was because of the money.” 

“Alright, I’ve gotta go, see you later,” you said, picking up your tray as Seungmin waved his hand with cookie crumbs on his fingers, the clicking of your heels growing softer as you walked further away. 

Reaching the door of your boss’ office, you’d been able to faintly make out 2 silhouettes through the window from where you stood, composing yourself to make a good impression as you knocked on the door. Hearing your boss grunt, you’d pushed the door open with your shoulder, your gaze focused on the coffee table as you greeted your boss.

Setting the pot of tea on the table, you’d cast a glance at the recipient, your eyes widening when you’d spotted the boy with dyed hair sitting on the plush leather sofa facing your boss, dressed in a clean white button-down and tie, an equally well-ironed pair of pants, his posture relaxed with his legs spread casually. 

His gaze was on you, as if analysing your movements, making you direct your gaze back to your task at hand, setting the saucer with the cup of coffee onto the coffee table, placing the small biscuits your boss liked in the middle of the two. 

Holding the tray close to your chest, you cast a glance at your boss, about to bow in greeting and head back out when his voice had stopped you. 

“Y/N, please, stay here. I’d like to discuss something with you and my nephew.” 

Your eyebrows raised, lips pressed tightly together as you nodded, “oh…cool, alright.” 

“Please, take a seat,” Mr Bang gestured to the space on the sofa next to his nephew, making you seat yourself awkwardly on the other side of the sofa, your body pressing against the armrest as if trying to create as much distance as you could between him and you. 

“So, Chan, this is my secretary, Y/N,” Mr Bang gestured to you, “Y/N, this is my nephew, uh… Chris,” he spoke, the name sounding fairly familiar to you. Chris Bang? You sounded the name over in your head, not being able to connect the dots as to why it was so familiar at this point of time. 

“So, sweetheart, because I’ve been planning on resigning for a while now, I thought I should let you know that I’m planning on handing my position over to Chris.” 

Maybe this was what Seungmin was so busy with. 

You nodded slowly, trying to understand the implications this decision meant for you, “will my contract be terminated, then?” 

Chris glanced at you, as if searching your expression. He found you fairly younger than he’d expected, since his uncle had mentioned earlier that you’d already been working for him for quite some time, going onto 2 years already.

Of course, he didn’t want to underestimate you, but knowing the directors’ reputations regarding secretaries, he wasn’t sure if he could put a label on your abilities without seeing them for himself, first. And to him, he wasn’t quite understanding of why his uncle was so insistent that he needed a secretary, his past experiences with secretaries all being quite unimpressive. 

“That… is unfortunately up to Chris, but ideally your contract will resume as per normal.” 

You glanced back at the boy, who looked at you with an unreadable expression, something about his stare successfully unnerving you, the way he looked at you almost with a certain level of contempt. 

“We’ll be having a company dinner tonight to welcome Chris to the team, it would do the both of you well to get acquainted with each other before the board meeting for ceo elections.” 

You nodded slowly, still clutching the tray close to your chest as you wondered how old he was, the whole ordeal seeming as though it were something out of a movie: a young apathetic heir getting authority over a large corporation at such a young age. Was he even qualified for this position? The rest of the directors were nowhere near his age, well, appearance wise. 

As if having read your mind, your boss spoke, “I’m sure you two will get along just fine, considering you two are so close in age.” 

Your eyes narrowed, something in you not feeling comfortable with this arrangement. Dismissing the thought quickly, you shrugged, figuring it would be a change of scenery from being around the old directors all the time. 

You watched as Chris shrugged.

“We’ll see.” 

=== 

“Who?” Seungmin dabbed at his lips with his towel, picking up his glass of water to take a sip, making you frown, still trying to do your research on Chris Bang as far as your browser app would take you. 

“Chris Bang. He’s gonna take over the company from President Bang.” 

Your words seemed to have elicited a giggle from Seungmin, “doesn’t that make them both ‘President Bang’?”

Seungmin ignored your eye roll, continuing, “this was what I was referring to just now, you know. I thought you would’ve known who he was by now,” he told you, making you set your phone down on the table, open on his LinkedIn page that frankly wasn’t giving you much other than stating how very qualified he was for the job. 

“You know, Bang Chan? Ring a bell? That guy that’s been switching departments for God-knows-how-long since last year. The one that got all of us donuts one time,” Seungmin gave you a ‘duh’ look, considerably unamused. 

“Oh,” only then were you realising just who that was. You knew exactly who he was. You’d heard many rumours from the other secretaries on how he was impossibly good at anything he’d set his mind to, his work ethic and standard incomparable to anyone else in the company they’d ever seen. 

Which was why all that switching departments start to make sense to you, since it could’ve been his way of making sure he learnt the ins-and-outs of every department by the time he took over. If that wasn’t just more evidence that he was definitely a crazy workaholic.

At the time, you’d made a passing comment on how you hoped you would never have to be his subordinate, after having heard stories on how intimidating he was whenever it came to work (especially work that was improperly done). Little did you know that your comment would come back to bite you in the ass so soon. 

“Yeah, ‘oh,” Seungmin mimicked you, taking another bite out of his burger, “why d’you seem so…,” Seungmin made a pained groaning sound as he gestured to you for lack of a better word, “about it, anyway? Shouldn’t you be happy? He’s super nice!” 

You scrunched your nose up, locking your phone in your dismay, not wanting to see his face on his stupid profile mocking you with all his stupid qualifications anyway.

“I don’t know, just kind of feels a little sudden. And I hate the feeling of not knowing if I’m gonna be fired since it’s not up to Mr Bang anymore.” 

“Which one?” Seungmin joked, making you scoff, finding it just a little funny. Only a little. 

Seungmin continued, “you’re just mad because him taking over means you actually have to do work.” 

You shot him a glare, your silence being an acknowledgement that he wasn’t entirely wrong. 

“And because I love Mr Bang! He was such a nice old man that checked in on me and gave me life advice. I’m not gonna get any life advice from someone that’s basically my age.” 

Seungmin huffed in amusement, bringing his hand up to cup his mouth as if to divulge a secret, dropping his voice to a strained whisper, “transfer to the legal department.” 

You sighed, “no, I still love my pay.” 

“Then stop sulking! Chris is the nicest guy I’ve met, you’ll be fine. Just show up to the company dinner tonight and fluff him up a bit,” Seungmin shrugged, “it’ll be smooth sailing from then on.” 

=== 

You figured you should’ve tried to do a lot better to fluff Chris up during the company dinner, instead of just going over to grill the meat for the directors, under the instruction of President Bang. 

The action itself didn’t sit right with Chris, who didn’t understand why it was so imperative to the directors that you be the one to grill the meat until he realised just why they were keeping you there. 

His own uncle was oblivious of course, simply obliging at any chance he got to show off how capable you were (even if it was just grilling meat), however Chris was quick to notice the way they stared at you as you reached between them to grill the meat, your face feeling hot with the steam from the grill. 

“Y/N is very hardworking, graduated at the top of her class in college,” Mr Bang mentioned pointedly, making Chris’ eyebrows raise in surprise. 

“Really? What did you study?” He spoke, knowing very well you were listening, the other directors not paying any attention to learning your background as they prompted you to pour them a drink. You didn’t miss the way his words were accented, remembering hearing from Seungmin that he’d spent a large chunk of his life in Australia. 

Tipping the bottle, you’d answered (albeit a little preoccupied). 

“Law,” you sat back on your heels, “minored in journalism.” 

Chris frowned, not being able to understand why you would’ve chosen to work here as his uncle’s secretary of all things if you had pretty good prospects on your own. 

“How’d you end up working for my uncle, then?” He voiced, your attention diverted when you’d been prompted by a director to take a shot of your own, clinking your glass obnoxiously and leaving you with no choice, an embarrassed flush on your face. 

Taking the shot, you winced at the burn of the drink, glancing back at Chris, who was still looking at you curiously, wondering how you’d felt under the attention of the directors.  

“Did it as a temp job at first,” you told him, “but I guess I realised halfway that I don’t mind it so much, and it paid me pretty well.” 

Chris hummed, you ‘don’t mind’ this? 

One of the directors let out a grunt of distaste, “you shouldn’t worry about that, doll. The job of a secretary is to look pretty, the pride of the company is in its secretaries,” he said, clearly having already had one-too-many drinks, his words leaving an awful aftertaste on your tongue, his hand going over to grasp your shoulder, his hand going down to your arm and squeezing. 

“I always told her she’d do well as a housewife. That way she wouldn’t have to work and just mooch off her husband.” 

You mustered a smile, setting the bottle of drink down and bowing to them, Chris having lost his appetite at the way you’d just let their comments slide. 

“Maybe she prefers mooching off of the directors, instead,” Chris murmured, his sharp tongue getting the better of him, catching your attention as you were walking past him, making you stop in your tracks.  

Chris’ uncle tut his tongue, nudging the boy harshly, making him raise his hands in surrender. 

“What? Just speaking off of observation.” 

You turned around, a surge of confidence arising in you (from where? You weren’t sure, maybe it was the fact that in your eyes he was still what was standing in between you and your possible severance pay), “excuse me?” 

“I’m sorry, was there any untruth in what I said?” Chris turned, his gaze almost challenging you to speak out against the directors, not knowing that it was only serving to spur you on to speak out against him instead. 

 You scoffed, Chris standing up and awaiting your answer, a voice in you screaming at you not to be intimidated by him, especially with the way his head tilted down ever so slightly, his eyebrows raising expectantly. 

“Didn’t know they would just let any rude petty kid run any company these days,” you narrowed your eyes at him, folding your arms and straightening your posture. 

Seungmin, who was watching from his table with the legal team, grimaced, deeming Chris’ expression to be anything but friendly at the moment. 

“I don’t know, maybe it’s just a little unbelievable to me that I’m supposed to be answering to someone who just got the company handed to him,” your words were coming out faster than you could help it. I mean, you were probably going to get fired anyway, right? Might as well go down with a fight. 

“You don’t know anything about me,” Chris muttered, his voice firm, annoyance laced in his tone. Your words seemed to have triggered a spark in him, annoyed that you were doubting his abilities, blatantly disrespecting him even after knowing he could be your superior. 

Mr Bang had tapped Chris’ calf harshly, “enough, don’t keep y/n from eating.” 

Ignoring his words, Chris had stepped forward, staring you down as the tension had only thickened between the both of you. 

“But then, what would you know, right? What was that again? Right. What are you here for other than to look pretty, hmm?” He tilted his head at you, flashing you a smile that was practically dripping with sarcasm. 

You practically seethed with anger, your fists clenching as you unfolded your arms, your finger coming up to point at him, “you know what? I’d rather eat beansprouts for the rest of my life than work for you.” You scoffed. 

Chris' amused lilt to his smile was only serving to annoy you even more, making you storm over to your table with the other secretaries, all of them casting you looks of concern or shock that you would have confronted him like that. Picking up your jacket, you’d scoffed, casting him one last look before you left, not expecting to see him again afterwards. 

Well, that was the part you were very very wrong about. 

That night, you’d called your boyfriend over to submit him to a seemingly never-ending rant about Chris, getting a text from Seungmin halfway. 

“I mean, isn’t it good, then? That you can find another job?” Your boyfriend tried to reason, pressing a kiss to your neck as you straddled him where he was sitting leaning against your headboard. 

“That’s not the point,” you insisted, pausing to read the text that Seungmin had sent, oblivious to his urgent kisses trailing up to your jaw. 

seungmin (personal)  2:12am -consider yourself lucky. Spoke to Chan just now, make sure you show up to work tomorrow.- 

“The point is that, he’s arrogant. What? Telling me that I’m only here to look pretty?—“ 

“In his defence, you insulted him first.” 

You glared at your boyfriend, “Yeah, fine. But he provoked me first. And I don’t know, something about him just pisses me off,” you tried to reason, your boyfriend’s kisses beginning to distract you from your anger. 

“You know what, maybe you should just give him a shot. Maybe he’s not as bad as he seems?” 

And so you did as Seungmin had instructed, doing what you would’ve always done, grabbing your boss’ morning coffee before going to the office, ‘leisurely’ making your way upstairs as you tried to avoid any possible suit-clad blond-haired man. 

Upon reaching your desk, you’d set your things under your desk, opening your scheduler and doing a quick run through of Mr Bang’s schedule for the day, grabbing the coffee and knocking on the glass doors before entering. 

“Y/N! Just the person I wanted to see.” You nodded, walking over to place his coffee onto his table.

“You have the board meeting in half an hour, sir,” you informed him.  

“Right, thank you. Would you be a dear and be there to serve the refreshments?” 

You nodded, “yeah, sure.” 

“If all goes as planned, Chan- I mean, Chris, will be taking over from next week onwards. So this week will be the last week i’m here.” 

You frowned, “it’s a shame you’re retiring, you know,” your disappointment was evident in your tone.  

Mr Bang simply waved you off, “it’s about time, I’m sure little Chris will do a good job.” 

You’d kept your mouth shut, nodding as he stood up with his coffee cup in hand, looking at you with a smile, “shall we head down a little earlier, then?” 

You nodded, opening the door for him to exit and following him silently to the venue of the board meeting. You were surprised, to say the least, when you’d reached only to find Chris there already, currently in an animated conversation with one of the directors, smiling like you’d never seen before, dimples showing on his cheeks. 

Excusing yourself quickly, you’d gone to the pantry to prepare the drinks, your time here having made you familiar with the respective directors drink preferences. Carrying your tray carefully, you’d pushed the door open with your hip, seeing all the directors seated already, all seeming fairly comfortable around Chris, only serving to make the feeling of dread build in the pit of your stomach. 

Making your way around the table, you’d distributed the drinks to the directors personally, refusing to make eye contact with Chris as you gave him his stupid cup of tea. 

Once the meeting had started, you’d dismissed yourself outside the room, a part of you trying to listen in on the board meeting but not being able to hear much through the thick panelled glass. You were surprised when barely half an hour had passed and you’d heard applause in the room, peeping through the window to see Mr Bang give you a signal that you could come in. 

Pushing the door open carefully, you saw the directors practically lining up to congratulate Chris, leaving promptly after looking all-too satisfied with the outcome of the meeting. 

Mr Bang was speaking to Chris as the rest of the directors were leaving, “well, I guess this means my work here is as good as done. I’m sure your parents will be thrilled to hear the news,” he pat Chris on the back. 

You were about to head out with Mr Bang, eager to avoid Chris when you’d heard him speak, “Y/N, I’d like to speak with you for a moment. Is that alright?” He cast a look at his uncle, who waved him off. 

“Of course, she’s not my secretary anymore, remember?” You cast Mr Bang a look of distress, seeing him chuckle before giving you a thumbs up, exiting the room happily.  

You winced, turning around so you were facing Chris, seeing him walk over to where you were, holding out a thick bound stack of papers for you to take. 

“What’s this?” 

"A contract. You can pass it to me by the end of the day once you've made your decision. I trust that you're familiar with reading contracts?" he asked as you stared at the papers, flipping and scanning through the print, realising that his terms were considerably more demanding than his uncle. 

"You'll be able to find an additional attachment where I list what I would expect in a secretary. Feel free to consult me if you're unclear about any of them, though I don't think you would need to." 

Your eyes lingered on the section of the contract, stating that you would be on a year of probation, but that the contract could be terminated whenever he felt appropriate. 

"Whenever you deem appropriate?" you scoffed, looking up at him in disbelief. 

He smiled, "very pretty wording, don't you think?" 

"That's all I wanted to say. Remember, I'll expect your response by the end of the day." 

You stared blankly as he shrugged his jacket off, draping it on one arm. 

"Go ahead, what are you waiting for? You can go for your lunch break now," he urged, before his features pulled into a look of realisation, "oh, forgot. That is, unless you would rather eat...what was that again? Beansprouts?" 

Your mouth opened, making as if to retort before you shut your mouth quickly, your eyes widening as he walked over to you, his gaze intense and serious, a contrast to the demeanour he wore while chatting up the director previously. 

"I can handle myself, you know," you attempted to defend yourself, watching as Chris had shrugged. 

"You have one whole year to prove that to me." 

In that one year of working for Chris, you'd learnt a lot of things. Not only about your position as a secretary, but about Chris, ( not to mention, just exactly how spiteful he could be ).  

1. Sleep was a luxury. 

In your first week as his secretary, Chris had surprised you with the sheer rate of progress he was aiming, and moving at. It was as if all the rumours you'd heard before about his work ethic were a gross understatement of his tenacity. 

You'd been having trouble adjusting to his deadlines, especially since he had entrusted more tasks to you. From surprise presentations, to drafting up proposals and reports, not to mention submitting research to him. To you, it felt as if you were doing half the job for him. 

In short, you had never missed Mr Bang more than you did then. 

Of course, Seungmin being your voice of reason, would shut your rants down, claiming it was ‘about time you do your job’, but of course, you loved to complain. Especially since it was someone you didn't have very fond feelings for that was assigning you the work. You grew increasingly irritated in the time you were adjusting to your sleep schedule, which Chris, and your boyfriend had definitely noticed. 

Because of your changes in brain activity levels, you assumed (google could only diagnose so much), whenever sleep came to you, you welcomed it with open arms.  Since waking up had become even more of a chore to run over to the coffee shop and squeeze yourself between the crowd of working adults and panda-eyed college students to get his very specific breakfast order. 

You'd gone home from a birthday party of your boyfriend and your mutual friend, things having gotten a little...out of hand at your boyfriend's apartment since it'd been so long since you'd been able to spend time together, not with you always falling asleep during video calls or refusing them altogether for the sake of getting your work done. You'd missed him, and something about being apart made you miss his touch. 

Jolting awake, (as if your body had been able to tell that your sleep was too smooth), you'd instantly sensed that something was wrong when you saw the light streaming in from behind the curtains, knowing for a fact that you usually woke up when it was still a little dark out. 

Turning around, you'd fumbled for your phone on the bedside table, letting out a loud gasp when you saw the time. You were already a whole half-hour late. 

"Shit!" 

Your boyfriend startled, letting out a groan, his arm still lazily draped over your stomach. 

"Did my alarm ring?" you asked, shoving his hand off of you and groaning, slipping out of bed quickly as you put on your clothes from the day before, not having any more time to go back to your apartment and get a fresh change of clothes. 

"I don't know, I didn't hear anything," you heard your boyfriend mumble from where he lay. 

Cursing, you'd ran over to his bathroom, washing your face quickly, a gasp leaving your mouth as you inspected the angry marks on your neck through the mirror. 

"I hate you so much," you tugged up the collar of your turtleneck, successfully hiding the marks when you’d let your hair down. 

Grabbing your things, you'd sprinted downstairs, hailing the first cab you could see and heading to your office. 

Was he going to fire me? You were still on probation, so there was no reason he couldn't, right? 

You'd fixed your hair anxiously as you jogged into the lobby, your shoes clacking noisily against the floor as you ran into the lift, even debating on whether taking the stairs would have been a better idea as the lift went up at an achingly slow pace. 

Finally reaching your floor, you’d made your way to the meeting room, tossing your bags outside the door and entering with your laptop, notebook and pen, keeping your head down and avoiding Chris’ gaze as he was presenting to the room. 

Taking your seat at the only empty seat left, (unfortunately, closer to the front of the room), you’d let out a small sigh. Expecting to hear Chris comment on your tardiness or whatnot, you opened your laptop, picking up on the minutes where you could. 

Keeping your head down, you’d felt your colleague from the marketing team lean over to you as Chris had given everyone some time to analyse what he was showing on the screen, his lack of a comment making you even more anxious. 

“Your hair’s a mess,” she whispered, making you wince, your hand going up to comb your hair into a ponytail in your attempt to look neater, hearing your colleague gasp. 

“Dude! Put your hair back down, your neck,” she whispered, your eyes immediately darting to Chris’ direction, seeing that he was in fact staring at your jaw and neck as well, turning away quickly, the reddening of his ears giving him away.

Your hands let go of your hair as though you were burned, hearing your colleague snicker beside you, “I see someone had fun last night. Was that why you were late, too?” 

You shushed her as Chris cleared his throat, embarrassment flooding your senses as you continued to take minutes, hoping that he wouldn’t be as mad at you if you showed that you were trying your best. Fat chance, but hey, you could dream. 

Chris had started to assign things that he’d wanted the different departments to focus on for the project at hand, flashing a slide of deadlines that you watched people scramble to confirm with their existing information. You were secretly hoping someone would hold him back with a question so that he was too busy to confront you. 

Unfortunately for you, that wasn’t the case today. The meeting ended promptly, Chris leaving you in relative silence as you packed up your things, your colleagues giving you a look of sympathy as you followed him silently out of the room back to your desk. 

“In my office, please,” he murmured. 

You fiddled with your fingers, already anticipating for him to fire you. 

“Can you explain to me what happened this morning?” 

Your eyes widened, not daring to meet his gaze as it flickered between anything in the room other than him, “I uh..I didn’t um…I didn’t hear my alarm ring and nobody woke me up so I overslept.” 

Chris’ stare was unwavering, leaning against his desk and folding his arms, “so is it not your responsibility to make sure you show up to work on time?” 

“No, yeah of course it is—“ 

“Then I would like to see you be accountable for your mistakes,” he continued, “I’m not saying you can’t make mistakes, everybody makes mistakes. But if your mistake is what puts an entire room of people at an inconvenience, I would prefer if you were a little more apologetic about it.” 

You’d let a short period of silence fall between the both of you, “I’m sorry,” you mumbled, your gaze fixed firmly on his shoelace, “am I fired?” 

Chris let out a small sigh, shaking his head. “No, but, you know, if you ever let anything like this happen again, I won’t hesitate to fire you,” his voice was stern, annoyed almost. 

“And Y/N, if this,” you looked up at him watching him gesture to his neck with his hand before gesturing back to you, making you cower, tugging your collar further up your neck, “is what’s the issue here. I’d suggest you start prioritising.” 

“Sorry. It won’t happen again, I swear,” you rushed to speak, bowing quickly before exiting the room as fast as you could, wanting to tear your hair out in both annoyance and embarrassment. 

You’d jumped when you heard the sound of your desk speaker, Chris’ voice sounding through the phone, “Is there a problem, Y/N?” 

Your eyes widened, rushing over to your desk phone, shaking your head as you pressed the button to reply, “no, no! Not at all. There was just a… a bug here.” 

Chris huffed, bringing his hand up to hide his amusement, watching you scramble to regain your composure. 

2. Chris was a workaholic 

It was seeing (and experiencing) all the late nights in the office and the erratic pattern of his emails on weekends that drew you to this conclusion. His routine of sleeping late and then proceeding to get up at ungodly hours to either get work done or give up on the idea of a smooth sleep, since you were aware that he tended to have trouble sleeping. Not to mention the way it seemed to you as if the top priority in his life was his work, wanting to do his best to get the company to where he wanted it to be. 

After a few months of working for him, it was very clear to you that your job entailed not only taking care of his work, but taking care of him. 

You were going over to the legal team's office to collect the binders Chan had left to them, seemingly needing one of them now, thankful to have spotted Seungmin along the way as he was leaving his desk. 

Shooting you a look of sympathy, he'd peeked his head out to glance at your area, noticing everyone else in your team had gone home already. 

"Working late again?" 

You were sure you looked horrible, with bags under your eyes and your complexion looking dull from lack of sleep, but well, you had to earn a living, right? 

You shot him a pointed look, "you know the rules, can't go home until the boss goes home," you heaved a pained sigh. 

"You know, I'm starting to wonder if he even has a social life," you thought out loud, earning an amused grunt from Seungmin. 

"I could say the same about you." You ignored his comment. 

"What d'you need?" he asked, though you were already making your way to his superior's desk, grabbing the file and leaving a post-it to say it was with Chris. 

"Nothing, just this." You let out a small grunt at the weight of the binder, your wrists aching from all the filing you'd done that morning and afternoon (you never did notice until now how inefficient Chris' uncle's document organization system was). 

"All the best," he gave you a thumbs up, earning a pitiful pout from you before you'd headed back to Chris' office. 

Knocking on his door, you'd heard him murmur for you to come in, pushing the heavy doors open with your shoulder as you shoved your way through the doors,  placing the binder onto the coffee table where he'd had his documents and laptop laid out haphazardly. 

Chan's hair was a mess, likely from running his hands through it as he worked, his tie discarded and the top few buttons of his shirt undone, looking at you with tired eyes. 

He was about to ask you for some water, but you'd seemed to have read his mind, walking over to the table near his desk and pouring him a glass of warm water from the flask. 

"I'm almost done with the filing, but I'll be outside so you can let me know if you need anything." 

You'd felt your pocket buzz with a notification, momentarily taking your attention away from Chris. 

Chris glanced at the files before looking back at you in thought, stopping you before you could exit the room, "actually, can you help me to write a report on this, I'll need this by tomorrow afternoon." 

Knowing Chris' deadlines, that meant he would've needed it by tomorrow morning, which left you no choice other than to start working on it now. 

Chris picked up a small file with a post-it note stuck onto the file, handing it to you. 

"The points are all there. I would've done it myself but by the looks of it this is gonna take a while more than I expected," he sighed, his hands on his hips as he stared at the pile of papers in front of him in disdain. 

Chris never would've admitted that he'd started preparing the post-it notes for you in case he wasn't able to complete his work in time, since he usually opted to write from his head, but he knew you worked better with structure. He'd only realised after starting to do it that it helped him draft the write-ups more concisely, so of course, the reason was always 'for his own convenience', never creating opportunities for you to think he actually tried accommodating to you. 

"This current arrangement is very un-environmentally friendly," you mumbled, staring at the papers as well. 

"I'll go get this done now," you gave him a nod, exiting his office as you pulled your phone from your pocket, the text from your boyfriend practically glaring at you, asking if you were able to meet that night. 

10:47pm - sorry, working late :( gotta work on a report due tomorrow morning - 

Biting back your disappointment at having to bail on your boyfriend again, you'd nodded resolutely, pulling up your delivery app to order food for Chris before you started on the report lest he start to get irritable because he was hungry. 

And lastly, the point you couldn't quite seem to wrap your head around, was that 

3. He was very nice, just...not so much to you. 

After the oversleeping incident from before, it was safe to say you'd never let a similar mistake repeat itself. You were constantly making sure you were alert and responsive to anything Chris could possibly throw to you (and he knew this too). 

The only downside Chris saw to this, was that it seemed as though your attitude towards the directors hadn't changed. Still swallowing their disgusting comments and serving them with a smile, even if they were looking everywhere but your face. It irked Chris. And it irked him even more that the only one you seemed to serve without a smile, was him. 

Unbeknownst to him, you'd shared the same sentiments. 

"Do you ever look at someone and wonder what is going on in their head?" you spoke. 

Seungmin snorted, "wait, are you talking about the meme or..." your lack of a response made Seungmin follow your gaze (or glare) to where Chris was seated at the other end of the table, giggling and smiling as he spoke with the other secretaries. 

"Ah," Seungmin nodded, understanding now why your spoon hadn't moved an inch from your bowl, your grip around it almost death-like. 

"What are you so mad about? He's not doing anything?" 

You shot Seungmin a pointed look, your voice lowering to a murmur, "can't you see it? With them he's all rainbows and unicorn shit but with me it's like just smiling would kill him." 

You heard the secretaries letting out giggles and impressed sounds at something Chris had just said, the sound itself enough to make you annoyed. 

Seungmin's eyebrows furrowed, looking at you in scepticism, "you know the secretaries are only being nice because they're interns, right? I heard from one of them that they're actually really scared of him." 

Seungmin brought his chopsticks to his mouth, taking a piece of food from your bowl that he knew you weren't going to eat anyway, "especially after they saw how he spoke to you during the meeting the other day,"

You scoffed, "good to know that I was the warning." 

Your phone buzzed, signalling a text from your boyfriend. Strangely enough, it'd been a while since you'd texted him, since you were busy with work and he was busy with school. 

Ignoring it initially, too distracted by Chris, it wasn't long before you saw his caller ID show up on the screen, getting Seungmin's attention. 

"I think you should answer that," he gestured, making you glance around the table in your hesitance, not knowing if it would be rude to just exit halfway. 

Picking up the phone-call, you'd turned your head, lowering your volume to a murmur, "hello?" 

"Hey, can we talk? I really need to tell you something." 

You winced, "is it urgent? I'm at a team dinner right now." 

Your boyfriend sighed, scoffing, "it really is always work with you, huh." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

You glanced at the table, standing up to excuse yourself. Chris's expression read confusion, eavesdropping on a secretary asking what happened, Seungmin replying that it was your boyfriend calling. 

You'd made your way outside the restaurant, Chris glancing in your direction and spotting you walk past the restaurant's windows, a part of him shaking off whatever curiosity that lingered in him as he focused on his conversation. After all, you did tell him you could handle yourself, right? 

Where you were, you'd moved to a quieter spot outside the restaurant, "okay, I can talk now. What's up?" 

You kicked at the ground absently as you awaited his reply. 

"Look, are you free to meet tonight? There's something I need to tell you." 

"Uh..." you glanced into the restaurant, making eye contact with Chris before looking away, "I've got to work later, though. I need to get some research done for this review that i'm behind on, I don't wanna meet you if i'm just gonna end up on my computer while you're there, you know?" 

Your boyfriend nodded, "you know, that's kind of what i wanted to talk to you about." 

"Oh," a feeling of dread was building in your stomach, recognising your boyfriend's tone to be the one he used whenever he was talking about something serious. 

The first time you heard it was when you witnessed him on a work phone-call, the second being how he spoke to your parents the first time they'd met, but this time, you had a feeling you knew what was coming. 

"Let's break up." 

You fell silent, not knowing how to respond to his words. 

"Is it, um.... is it because of my work?" You asked, a part of you not being able to come to terms with the fact that it could have been your fault, "because you know I can't do anything about that." 

Your boyfriend sighed, "I know. I'm just talking about how you've been so emotionally invested in your work you don't even have the energy to maintain this relationship." 

You frowned, "what, what do you want me to do, quit my job? Will that be better for you?" 

"Look, i've been seeing someone," he began. Your heart sank. 

"And i'd be lying if I said that wasn't part of the reason. But... it was only when I started seeing her that I realised... things between us just weren't the same as before." 

Your heart felt heavy, a part of you knowing that he was making it a lot easier to be mad at him by confessing what he did, but another part of you couldn't help but prompt him further. 

"When did it start?" 

"That doesn't matter-" 

You sighed, taking your lower lip between your teeth, "it's fine, I just wanna know." 

"Fine, it was about a month in from you working for your new boss." 

You nodded slowly, still trying to process his words. You weren't quite sure what came over you when you saw Chris exiting the restaurant, turning to face your direction and spotting you in the alley. But it was as if you were so mad at yourself, mad at him, mad at your boyfriend (or ex-boyfriend now), that you'd ended the call, shoving your phone into the pocket of your blazer before heading over to where Chris was. 

"You guys aren't going home?" you heard one of the secretaries ask as you and Chris had approached his car, his driver already sitting in the car and waiting. 

Chris shook his head with a smile, "nope, we're heading back to the office." 

You mustered a smile as you bid them goodbye, you guessed this was probably the best time to bury yourself in your work as a poor coping mechanism after a breakup, as far as movie breakups went.  

The car-ride was silent, despite the pinging of your phone, making you switch it to silent mode halfway, earning a curious look from Chris, though he didn't make to ask you about it. 

Upon reaching the office, the both of you had gone back into your clockwork routine, as you sat in his office working on your computer and scribbling down on your notebook the important details you wanted him to check. Chris found that your background in law and journalism made it a lot easier whenever it came to reading and condensing information, which had only allowed him to trust you more when it came to getting tasks like that done, saving him precious time he could spend working on other things. 

The buzzing of your phone was growing more frequent, though it was as if you were oblivious to it now as you typed away at your computer. 

"Right, can you help to postpone tomorrow afternoon's meeting, and help me to make a reservation at the steak place, 2 people." 

You hadn't made to move, pulling your phone out but having gotten distracted at the multitude of missed calls and texts just because your boyfriend wanted to 'make sure you were okay'. Please. 

"Hello? Can you hear me?" you heard Chris call, snapping you out of your daze as his gaze searched your expression, trying to read your emotions. 

"Sorry, can you repeat that? I didn't hear you." 

Chris sighed, his annoyance at your phone that had lit up with a call again getting the better of him, "you know I don't ask you to stay later just for you to waste my time, you know." 

Your gaze hardened. There it was, the side of Chris that you had the 'privilege' of being at the brunt of, nowhere near the smiley giggly Chris you witnessed at the restaurant just now. 

"I said I was sorry. What do you want me to do?" 

Chris huffed, his gaze darting to your phone as he spoke, "reservation for 2 people tomorrow afternoon, the steak place my mom likes. Postpone tomorrow afternoon's appointment with Director Lee." He told you slowly, his tone as if speaking to a young child, which only served to piss you off even more. 

"Who's calling you?" he asked. 

You shook your head in dismissal, "my...uh..." you weren't sure how to respond, watching dumbly as he made his way to where you were, lifting your phone to read the contact before letting out a huff. 

"Okay, well you can tell your boyfriend that if you're gonna be this distracted at work, you can kiss your night goodbye." 

You inhaled deeply, absolutely upset but knowing there wasn't much you could do about it. You loved your job, even though you hated to admit it. Ever since Chris came in, you were getting a lot more work experience and exposure, especially with how he would make it mandatory for you to attend certain language courses that would help him whenever you accompanied him on networking events or business galas. 

And in that moment, you couldn't help but think back to what he'd said the first time he'd scolded you when he'd told you to figure out your priorities. Maybe your boyfriend called you at the right time, maybe you just weren't ready to focus on things other than your career at this point of time. 

Turning your phone off, you'd made sure Chris saw that it was off, raising your hands up in surrender, "done. I'll book your stupid reservation now." You stalked out before Chris could chime in with a 'watch your tone'. 

=== 

You'd been working for Chris for what was coming to 2 years now. The company had been reaping the results of their hard work for a while now, and you were thankful that even though you weren't as busy as before, you still managed to keep your job. Other than the fact that Chris’ hair was now back to dark brown, not much else had changed. 

Although, one tiny change you were starting to wish for was that Chris would at least try to make things a little more bearable for you. 

You were currently at a meeting with the directors where Chris was presenting the overview of the company's performance in the past month. You would have to say you were pretty satisfied with the work you'd both done on that, working a lot more efficiently now compared to when you'd first started out. 

Your silent admiration of the presentation was interrupted when one of the directors summoned you over to ask for a cup of coffee.

Doing as you were told ( much to Chris' dismay ), you'd gone and come back in record time with his hot cup of coffee, bending down and making your way to where the director sat, not wanting to prevent any of them from seeing what Chris was presenting. 

While he was presenting, it didn't take Chris very long to realise why the director had kept asking you for things, your position from where you were squatting next to him making it all-too-easy for him to ogle at you without you noticing. 

For some reason, this seemed to have gotten on Chris' nerves, especially because that director's secretary was simply minding her own business at the back of the room. 

Did Chris think what you were wearing that day was nice? He'd say he didn't but of course he did. But unlike the director, he preferred not to be so blatant about it, especially because you were always so rude towards him. 

You'd tensed momentarily when the director had grabbed your arm, about to get up when you heard Chris' voice get louder. 

"Y/N, I'd appreciate if you would stop distracting the directors and go back to your seat." 

(Later on, Seungmin would be struggling to hold back his laughter in the printing room when Chan told him to tell you to button up your blouse a little more. 

“Why can’t you just tell her yourself?” 

Chan scoffed, “knowing her, she’s just gonna think I was looking at her… chest or something.” 

Seungmin narrowed his eyes at Chan teasingly, “well, were you?” 

Chan waved him off with a groan, “just tell her, okay? The directors are having a field day with her looking like that.”)

You'd almost scoffed at the way the director had immediately let go of you, and you straightened up quickly, heading back to sit with the other secretaries. 

"That was harsh," you heard one of the secretaries murmur to you, making you shrug. 

"Whatever, not like I expected more from him anyway." 

(You did, you totally did. You'd kill for him to be less grating with his words). 

After the meeting, you'd felt a phone ring in your bag, pulling it out to see that Chris' mom was calling, obviously not having been able to reach him. Making your way to where he was, you'd interrupted his packing of his things. 

"Your mom is calling you," you'd told him out of habit, holding his phone out for him to take, jumping slightly when you'd heard one of the directors let out a dismayed grunt. 

"Is that any way to talk to your boss?" 

Your eyes widened, Chris seeming to be enjoying the situation play out before him as you regained your composure, looking back at Chris with a sickly sweet smile on your face. In front of the directors, you couldn't act up like how you usually did when it was just the both of you, so you had no choice but to be all smiles

"President Bang, your mother is calling you," you told him, and if you were annoyed, you didn't show it, having years of practice from dealing with the directors. 

"uh-huh," Chris smirked, taking the phone from your hands and answering it as he gestured for you to help him gather his papers. 

"No, mom. I’ve told you already, i’m really fine with how things are now. I'm not going on another one." 

Not that you cared, but you had to admit you were kind of curious as to what he was so insistently refusing.

"Yes, okay, bye," he hung up, handing the phone back to you. 

You'd tried your best to suppress your curiosity, seeing as he was about to be late for his next meeting with one of his friends if he hadn't hurried. 

Fixing your blouse, you'd carried your laptop in your arm as you walked with him back to his office, with you going into the lift first, Chris having chosen the wrong time to step in as a girl you recognised as one of the interns had done so too, the number of people squeezing into the lift causing her to jerk her arm, her coffee landing unceremoniously on Chris’ tie and shirt. 

Chris let out a hiss at the temperature of the liquid, eliciting a long string of apologies from the girl. You knew that if it was you that had spilled the coffee, he would be going on and on about carelessness now, but the intern obviously wasn’t you, and so you watched in envy as Chris had given her a smile, dismissing her apologies quickly. 

“It’s fine, really. I just hope you still have some coffee left to drink,” he laughed. 

Not only was he not upset, but he was joking with her too? 

You scoffed, rolling your shoulders back as you’d watched the numbers on the elevator rise till it reached your floor, the girl looking scared for her life when you’d cast her a look, bowing to you apologetically. 

“Where did you keep the spare change of clothes?” Chris asked as he’d begun loosening his tie. 

You hadn’t responded as he let you walk before him into his office, making your way over to one of the cupboards at the side of the room and opening it, pulling out a hanger with a nicely ironed set of work clothes. 

“You can go and get changed, I’ll wait here,” you murmured, Chris walking over to where you were and giving you his stained tie. 

God, you hoped his dry-cleaning run wouldn’t make you late for your lunch appointment. 

Looking at his tie, you brought it up closer to your face to inspect the material, it was a well-made tie, you had to say. Not too skinny, the material feeling almost luxurious in your hold, tempting you to put it on in your boredom. 

Hanging it round your neck, you mustered your best ‘Chris accent’.

“You should be accountable for your mistakes! Don’t you know how many people you’re inconveniencing? Now I have a tie that reeks of coffee, look,” you held up the tie with a gasp, “and my secretary’s gonna be late for her lunch meeting!” You pointed accusatorially at the small black penholder that sat on his desk. 

“Yeah! Do you know how much you’re inconveniencing me? I don’t ask you to show up to work to waste my time—“ 

You’d stopped in your tracks when you heard Chris clearing his throat, grimacing as you tried to regain your composure, taking off the tie as quickly as you could, holding it tightly in your palm as you turned to face him. 

“Having fun?” 

“No,” you shot back quickly, not even wanting to ask how long he’d been standing there. 

Walking over to you, he’d handed you his stained shirt, his expression like that of a parent that had caught their kid doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing. 

“You know, sometimes I wish you’d talk back to the directors like how you talk back to me.” 

Your eyes widened, confused at his sudden comment, but not having the time to respond as Chris continued. 

“Get these dry-cleaned over lunch. The stain’ll be harder to get out the longer you wait.” 

You huffed, already walking away from him, “well, when you say it like that I’d might as well go do it now.” 

You'd been keeping yourself busy with replying emails when you heard the elevator ding, the sound of footsteps getting louder before you saw a considerably young, suit-clad man walking towards your desk. 

"I'm here to see Chris? I'm Director Kang," he told you, though you didn't need him to introduce himself, knowing very well who he was. 

"He's in there," you held a finger up to signal him to wait as you picked up your desk telephone, pressing a button to page Chris. 

"Director Kang's here to see you." 

"Okay, send him in."

Chris closed the work he was doing on his desktop, making his way over to the leather couches as he saw his friend enter the room. 

"Yo, when were you planning on telling me about your hot secretary?" 

Chris' eyebrows raised, "didn't think that was something worth mentioning."

"Well, why not?" his friend frowned, his features pulling into one of shock, "wait, don't tell me... you guys are dating?" 

Chris rolled his eyes, "no, we're not. And please, for both our sakes, don't try anything funny with her." 

The director was about to respond, interrupted by your knocking on the door, the door opening slightly so you could enter. 

"Can I get you anything? Like a drink? Coffee? Tea?" you asked. 

The director simply looked at you curiously, sitting with his ankle resting on his other knee, "only if you'd care to join me." 

Chris glared at his friend, shutting him up quickly before he could say anything more, "coffee for him, I don't want a drink."

You nodded, exiting quickly.

"What did you come to tell me about?" 

"Must I have a reason to come and visit my beloved friend?" 

Chris rolled his eyes, "my time is precious." 

This made the director scoff, "is that your excuse now? Anyway, I came to ask if you were going for Brian's wedding next weekend." 

"Oh, yeah, right. He asked me about it last night and I said I would go, you?" 

Director Kang rolled his eyes, "can't, I've got a business trip that weekend." 

Chris hummed in acknowledgement, "that reminds me. I should get a gift for them soon. Who'd he say he was marrying again?" 

"This girl he met at work, she's nice. But, you know, not my type." 

As if that wasn't enough, Director Kang continued, "anyway, are you bringing a date?" 

He was interrupted once again by the sound of your knocking, the door opening as you made your way over to them, bending to place the cup of coffee down onto the table, making Director Kang gesture to you with his head, mouthing 'you should bring her'. 

Waving him off, Chris was eager to get Director Kang’s attention away from you, almost as if wanting to protect you from getting swayed by him, knowing the outcome was never too bright. 

"Y/N, you can go for an early lunch break today." 

Your eyebrows raised, the prospect seeming almost too good to be true. Since when was he so nice? 

"Huh? But I still have some stuff to hand the legal team..." you sounded unsure, though you did consider this to be luck since you were supposed to meet one of your friends from college for lunch today. 

Chris gave you a stern look, waving you off, making you raise your hands in surrender. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll go.” 

On your way out, you’d texted your friend that you were gonna be able to meet earlier, pleasantly surprised when she’d told you she was already in the area and that she was able to head over now. 

You’d managed to drop off Chris’ clothes for dry-cleaning before heading to the restaurant, spotting your friend already seated at your table. 

“Hey! Wow, you look great!” She told you, giving you a hug in greeting. 

“Feel a lot better compared to last year,” you joked, making her frown. 

“Your boss still giving you trouble?” 

Shrugging, you’d taken a seat, “nothing out of the ordinary. Seems like it’s part of his daily routine to annoy me.” 

She laughed, “I ordered our food already, if you don’t mind.” 

Shaking your head, you waved in dismissal, “no, yeah, I don’t mind. Thanks. Anyway, you look pretty good yourself, how’ve you been?” 

You didn’t miss the way she’d leaned closer to you, tucking her hair behind her ear in a pointed gesture, drawing your attention to the large gemstone on her ring. 

Your eyes widened, “no way.” 

She nodded, “I wanted to tell you sooner but you were so busy! I was glad enough I managed to squeeze in this lunch with you,” she told you, making you pout. 

“When’s the wedding?” You asked. 

“Next week. We’re going to have it in this beautiful church out of town, really really nice place,” she told you, “really romantic, too,” she added as an afterthought. 

You let out a deep sigh, “I hope you’re not going where I think you’re going with this.” 

She gave you a scandalised look, pausing as the waiter had come to deliver your food, “first of all, Brian has a lot of good-looking friends!” 

You gave her a look, prompting her to continue, “well, not that I’ve seen all of them but he tells me that a lot of them are single! And you know who else is single…” she pointed her finger towards you with an overly excited glint to her grin. 

“We’ve been through this a million times, Eujin. I’ve tried but it’s really hard to find a guy that’s willing to cope with… you know, my kind of schedule,” you gave her a tired (wistful) sigh, “and with my schedule, I doubt I have the time, not to mention the energy to date.” 

Eujin’s lips twisted into a frown, “but it’s been so long! Don’t you want to get back in the dating scene?” 

You scoffed, cutting into your food harshly before taking a bite. 

“Of course I do. But the last time I went on a date the guy basically shat on me for being a workaholic,” you huffed, “I mean, my boss’ working hours means my working hours, shouldn’t they just shit on him instead? Why is it my fault that he’s basically destroyed what I have left of a social life.” 

Eujin shot you a look of sympathy, “I’d say I pitied you, but it’s not like you can’t get a job anywhere else, you know?” 

You’d kept your mouth shut at that, “I know… it just… I can’t just leave when I’ve already gotten so used to how things work here.” 

Of course that was one reason, but you would never admit that there was a nagging inside of you that didn't trust Chris to look after himself if you weren't here, remembering how he'd overworked himself during a crucial period after he took over the company, and you'd found him passed out on his desk when you showed up to work that day. 

You'd sort of made a silent promise that as much as you didn't like him, you still cared for him in a way. In the way a secretary would care for her boss, totally. 

You decided to change the topic, not wishing to talk about your hopeless love life at the moment. 

“What’s the program gonna be like?” 

Eujin’s eyes lit up, setting her cutlery down as she clasped her hands together, “Okay, so. The plan is for it to be a sort of weekend-long thing,” she told you, holding her finger up. 

“Firstly, on Thursday night we’ll have a little girls night type thing, and then Friday is the rehearsal dinner, Saturday will kind of be a little rest day and then Sunday is the actual wedding,” she said, now holding up four fingers to you. 

Your head was spinning at the (rather enticing) thought of taking basically 4 days off of work, before the dread settled in that you had to ask Chris for permission to take those days off. 

“I hope my boss will let me take time off…” you murmured, already rehearsing in your head possible ways on how you could tell him. 

Eujin gave you a resolute look, “you can do it! If he says no just let me know, I’ll go over to your fancy office and fight whoever he is myself.” 

=== 

“How many days?” 

Chris had asked at your desk as he prepared to leave to meet his mom for lunch since she’d happened to be in the business district. 

You fiddled with your pen anxiously, “uh..4 days? Technically 3 and a half. But 2 of those are weekends I just need you to make sure you just don’t bother me on that weekend it’s a really important weekend.” 

Chris narrowed his eyes at you, unsure why you were so insistent on him leaving that weekend alone, nodding slowly. 

Whatever, he figured, she’s just lucky I’m busy that weekend too. 

“Okay.” 

“I swear I’ll—wait, you’re okay with it?” 

Chris shrugged, straightening his tie, “yeah. I’ve got something on that weekend too.” 

You let out a surprised hum, “oh… cool. Thanks…Mr Bang,” you added as a force of habit, not wanting to risk getting scolded for ‘insubordination’ again just because you didn’t call him by his honorific. 

Chris huffed, leaving before you could see his ears reddening. 

Over lunch, Chris’ mom had been inspecting him carefully as he ate, as if the answer to her worries lay in every piece of sushi he ate. 

“Is there something you’re not telling me? Are you… gay?” She asked, continuing, “because if you are you know you can just tell me, instead of constantly upsetting the girls I try to set you up with.” 

Chris gave her a unamused look, “mom, I’ve told you a thousand times. I would really love to date, but it’s hard to find someone with a similar work ethic as myself, that can keep up with my… lifestyle and who really understands my needs, you know?” 

This made Chris’ mom perk up, “that’s it! Why don’t you just date your secretary!” 

Chris almost choked on his sushi, fumbling to grab his glass of water to calm himself down and compose himself. 

“What,” he spoke between coughs, “gave you that idea?” 

His mom looked at him in disbelief, “whatever you just said, you were basically describing her, no? And plus, we’ve heard a lot of wonderful things about her from your uncle.”

Chris couldn’t help but entertain the possibility in his head. It was true, you did work at a very efficient pace with him, not to mention how spending almost everyday in such close contact with him made you understand his own needs and wants even better than he did on occasions. Chris shook his head, that wasn’t possible, right? You looked as though you’d absolutely hated him half the time, he’d be expecting too much from you if he’d expected you to fall for him. 

Chris shook his head, dismissing the thought from both him and his mom’s minds quickly, “no, mom. I’m fine with how things are between us right now.” 

Chris had let you leave the office earlier on Thursday, (much to your surprise) allowing you to have ample time to pack your bags and get a cab to the destination, Eujin having taken the liberty and helped you book your hotel beforehand. 

Upon reaching, you’d texted Eujin saying you’d reached. 

eujin 6:54pm -yay!! Lets just chill in one of our rooms, we can discuss it in the chatgroup!!- 

Trust her to be excitable even about the smallest things. 

You saw an incoming text from Seungmin. 

seungmin (personal)  6:54pm -what where r u I went over to find u but both u and Chris weren’t here- 

6:55pm -im at a friends wedding, took the weekend off-

seungmin (personal)  6:55pm -wow finally using your employee perks nvm then have fun- 

You’d checked in, marvelling at the cozy yet elegant look of the hotel as you made your way through the lobby, letting the lift take you up to your hotel room floor. 

Changing into more comfortable clothes, you’d seen the group chat saying to gather in Eujin’s room, with mentions of ordering pizza. Considering this was your first weekend away from work in a very, long while, you were determined to make the most of it, heading over to Eujin’s room. 

You hadn’t expected to be welcomed as warmly as you were, hearing comments of ‘we were so happy you could make it!’ Or ‘thank God you could take time off!’, sharing the same sentiments as them as you’d let Eujin pull you onto the bed, the softness of the sheets and pillows instantly making a content sigh leave you. 

“I ordered room service,” Eujin sing-songed, gesturing to the Champagne bottles and whatnot on the tray next to the bed. 

“I’ll have one,” you raised your hand, earning a laugh from one of your friends. 

“Tired from work?”  

You let out a loud groan, nodding. This made Eujin nod gravely, “I swear, if I ever see your boss in real life, I’m gonna give him a piece of my mind.” 

You scoffed, “you don’t even know what he looks like.” You’d gratefully accepted the glass of champagne that was handed to you. "and plus, he's not that bad, other than the fact that he finds joy in pissing me off. He just works too hard in my opinion." 

You’d spent your time enjoying the once chance you could relax to your heart’s content without feeling dread at having to wake up early the following day, enjoying yourself as you leant against the headboard of the bed, listening to stories about how they’ve been and how all of them were either planning on getting engaged soon, were in long-term relationships or already married. 

“You guys make me wanna get married too,” you pouted, earning bouts of laughter from them. 

“You’d have to actually date to do that, you know,” they told you pointedly, making you sigh. 

“You’re basically married to your job, already,” your friend chimed in, making you laugh. 

“Seems like that, doesn’t it? I was super shocked he’d let me have the weekend off, usually he’d be swarming me with emails about now.” 

“I’m excited to see Brian’s friends tomorrow, maybe there’ll be someone that catches your eye,” Eujin told you, making you shrug. 

“Just out of curiosity, though, what are you looking for in a guy? You know, we could help you keep an eye out too.” 

You hummed, shrugging. 

“I’ve never really thought of a specific…criteria I guess. I guess I’d just like someone that’s kind, looks out for me, doesn't underestimate me...sort of has the same lifestyle as me? Since it’s honestly been really hard to find someone that doesn’t hate my schedule.” 

You'd almost scoffed at the way your brain had refused to picture anyone else other than Chris while you thought about it, figuring it was probably because he was the only guy you were in constant contact with. 

Eujin looked at you resolutely, “we’ll do our best,” she held up a fist in an action to cheer you on. 

You shrugged, You figured maybe going into this with an open mind would do you some good. 

You changed the topic, directing the focus back to Eujin, “whatever, let’s just have fun, it’s your big day soon, let’s just celebrate!”

===

At the rehearsal dinner, you had yet to arrive, since you’d spent a little longer getting ready, choosing to use your opportunity to dress up a little more, not having the luxury to do so during your usual work days. 

You had texted Eujin that you were on the way with some of the other bridesmaids, her attention directed elsewhere when her fiancé had called her over. 

“Hey, wanted you to meet some of my friends from law school.” 

While being introduced, Eujin couldn’t help but wonder if they were single, remembering your mentioned criteria from the night before. 

“Oh, so are you guys all working in the law sector now?” 

Her husband shook his head, “All of them, except Chan here. He’s the ceo of Bang Mobile Media company.” 

Eujin’s eyes widened, glancing at the brown-haired boy cautiously, as if sizing him up. Y/N worked in a mobile company too, right? If she was remembering this correctly. Was it mobile or broadcasting? 

“Oh, wow. That’s impressive.” 

Eujin had let them introduce themselves more, not being able to help but think that Chan was nice, friendly, and rich on top of that? 

“I don’t get it, how are you single? You’re basically the whole package!” She wondered out loud, making Chan flush, giggling as he shook his head. 

Her husband seemed to have begged to differ, “Chan is incorrigible when it comes to his love life.” 

Eujin raised her eyebrows in surprise, not having expected someone so good-looking to have such a fate, “really? Is there a reason behind that?” 

“He’d never dated much, even back when he was in Australia. He was always super dedicated to his work,” this had served to make Eujin even more positive about this guy’s prospects as a suitor for you. 

“Oh my god, you’re exactly like one of my friends, I should totally introduce her to you when she comes later.” 

“Hey, cut him some slack,” one of his friends had spoken up, “Chan can’t cheat on his job.” 

Eujin felt her phone vibrate signalling a notification, pulling it out to see that you’d arrived already, excusing herself and practically running over to the entrance of the venue. “Chan, you stay put, I have just the perfect girl to introduce you to!” 

“Y/N! You have to come quick, I think I found the perfect guy for you.” 

Your eyes widened, clutching onto the chain of your bag as you followed her into the room. 

“He’s really nice, and friendly, and he’s good-looking! Really cute dimples! And on top of that he’s loaded. I’m so excited for you to meet him.” 

Letting her drag you along, you’d distracted yourself with the atmosphere of the area, wondering just how much it would cost to book a venue like this, tugging down your dress that was hiking up from practically running after Eujin. 

“Hey, I have someone I’d like you to meet. Chan, this is Y/N,” Eujin chirped, the names causing the both of your heads to shoot up, locking eyes with each other as a feeling of doom built in the pit of your stomach. 

Your eyes widened in panic, glancing down at your attire, back to him, who was dressed in a flowy black shirt that you were sure cost more than your one week’s pay, the top few buttons of his shirt undone to reveal a simple silver necklace, and fitted black pants, your gaze landing on the small silver rings on his ears, almost feeling as though you were looking at a different person. 

Chris thought so too, seeming to have the same panic as you as he tried not to let his gaze linger too long on your dress, nodding his head at you in greeting, “nice to uh…meet you.” 

His ears had felt hot as you nodded back at him, almost startling when Eujin had cheered, leaning over to whisper to you, “I’ll make sure you guys get to sit next to each other.” 

You were about to protest when she’d left, leaving you standing at the bar with Chris. 

“So, Y/N, how do you know the bride to be?” 

You gulped, wanting to slap yourself for how your gaze had kept returning to Chris, unable to shake the feeling of needing to be in work-mode now with his presence before you. 

“Oh, uh, we were friends since college,” you answered simply. 

“Cool, did you guys have the same major?” Chris had to stop himself from glaring at his friend, a strange feeling inside of him as he recognised the look on his friend’s face and his posture to be that which he used whenever he was interested in a girl. 

You shook your head, “uh, not quite. I majored in law but she majored in journalism.” You tried to respond as calmly as you could, not being able to shake Chris’ gaze off of you, feeling as though at any moment he was going to call you out for something you weren’t even aware of.

You saw the guy practically light up at the mention of law. 

“Woah, that’s really coincidental. All of us met in law school,” he gestured to the group of them, making you laugh nervously. 

“Where are you guys um… dates?” You asked, immediately regretting the question when you saw the way Chris was practically glaring at you. 

You didn’t understand why he was glaring at you, wasn’t it a valid question? 

“We didn’t bring dates, unfortunately. Did you?” 

You shook your head, making Chris snort. “Does it look like she brought a date? She literally came in alone.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, unsure where his spitefulness was coming from, especially when his friend was just trying to make conversation with you. 

You scoffed, folding your arms. “Yeah, pity. Maybe I’d have time to date if I wasn’t always so busy running around doing shit for my boss,” you cast a pointed glance at him, bringing a hand up to nonchalantly run it through your hair. 

Chris smirked, two could play at this game.

“Same here, I’d probably have the time to date too if my secretary wasn’t always causing trouble.” 

“Your secretary?” His friend spoke up, “I heard from someone she was pretty cute, and nice too.” 

You’d almost wanted to agree, realising that if you did it would put you in a pretty compromising position, simply acting surprised. 

“If I had a secretary like that, I’d just date her,” one of his friends had spoken up, making your eyes widen, wracking your brain for possible responses. 

“Who knows, are you a workaholic?” You asked pointedly, earning amused grunts and laughs from his friends, “ah… it’d be too bad if I was your secretary, then. I absolutely can’t stand dating workaholics.” 

Chris narrowed his eyes at you, the both of you knowing you were just as bad at him, replying calmly, “oh, you can’t stand dating workaholics? Me neither.” 

You were thankful that Eujin had given you a small break when she'd invited everyone to take their seats so dinner could be served, wincing when you'd ended up sitting next to Chris out of habit, momentarily forgetting that you weren't attending a networking session. 

You'd hoped and prayed that you wouldn't slip up more than you already did. As much as you'd wanted to spite him, he was still your boss, and you knew he'd give you an earful for even the slightest hint of disrespect ( which you were sure you'd surpassed already ). 

Focusing on the gorgeous food they'd served you, you saw the waiter pick up the bottle of wine, pouring it for you. 

Having been oblivious, the waiter was about to pour a glass for Chris as well, making your secretary-instincts kick in, your arm darting across Chris to stop the waiter in time. 

"No, Mr Bang, you shouldn't drink that." 

Chris would have looked fairly amused if he wasn't stressed out by your proximity, with you practically leaning over him to speak to the waiter. 

You'd cursed internally, wincing at the way Chan's friend had looked at you, tilting his head in confusion. 

"Mr Bang? And how do you know his alcohol preference?" 

Chris let out a nervous giggle as you straightened up, "uh...well um like...you know it's a really funny story actually... we're um..." 

Not being able to bear his awkward fumbling any longer, you'd butt in, "We work in the same company. Yeah." 

You were lucky his friend had bought it, simply nodding in understanding, "no wonder, you guys were being so weird just now." 

Chris scoffed, "what weird?" 

You turned around in your chair, pretending to pick up your bag, "stop, you're making it worse," you murmured so he could hear you, making him bring his glass of water to his lips. 

One of your girl friends had spoken up, halfway through the meal, "wait, i just realised. If you guys work in the same office, then you must know her boss right? That dude is crazy. We all thought it was a miracle that she could take time off for the wedding," 

You glared at your friend, trying to subtly shake your head in your attempt to stop her, but she was oblivious, "she doesn't like it when we badmouth him but it's true! Ever since she started working for him it's like her social life just disappeared. Her boss is always her first priority." 

You'd never related more to how people said they wished the ground would swallow you whole. Looking down at your food, you'd tried to remain nonchalant about it, but Chris who was next to you was looking at your friend with wide eyes. 

"Oh, really? What else does she say about him?" 

You laughed nervously, waving your hands in dismissal, "nothing that concerns you."

Chris turned to you, dropping his volume to a murmur, "is that so? because i'm hearing all this and i'm getting the feeling it definitely concerns me." 

You let out a huff of anxious laughter, bringing your glass to your lips, consuming your drink in sips because your boss was sitting next to you, but secretly wishing you could down it all in one go. 

Soon enough, all your anxious sipping had made you reach an empty glass, the waiter coming over to refill it for you, earning an eyebrow raise from Chris. 

"Leave me alone," you huffed. 

Chris simply laughed, "what? I didn't say anything." 

You'd tried to pay attention to the proceedings of the wedding rehearsal, and after dessert was served people had started to mingle around more, the drinks having started to kick in as you'd felt a lot more relaxed. 

It was safe to say Eujin was as well, going around to talk to the guests and thank them for coming out of town for the celebrations. 

Soon enough, you were almost done with your fourth glass, oblivious to the way Chris was looking at you, impressed yet concerned. Feeling skinny arms drape over your shoulders, you turned your head to see none other than Eujin, cooing at you affectionately. 

"Tell your boss a huge thank you for letting you have this weekend. I couldn't even get to see you on my birthday or for the engagement party, but i'm so so glad you're here now." 

You couldn't help but glance at Chris, knowing that you'd missed both of those events because you were helping him with something. The first being when he'd almost overworked himself enough to warrant a visit to the hospital since he hadn't been sleeping or eating well (after that, you swore you'd make sure this man was getting his three meals if you could help it), and the second time being when you had to accompany him to a keynote session out of town. 

You were starting to think maybe there was a little more to unpack behind your reasons why you stayed working for Chris Bang. Your only consolation at this point of time being that the rehearsal dinner was ending soon, meaning that you could finally escape the suffocating tension you were feeling. 

"Wanna hitch a ride back together? I drove here." 

You'd almost declined, feeling as if you didn't have a right to be in his car if it wasn't work-related. Chris had seemed to sense your hesitation, simply not waiting for a reply and walking off, hoping his smile wasn't too obvious when he'd heard you jogging to meet his pace. 

He'd surprised you even more when he'd opened the passenger door for you, shutting it gently after you'd gotten in. 

You'd given in to the comfort of his car almost immediately, more-so when Chris had gone to take something from the boot of his car, getting into the driver's seat and draping the soft blanket over your lap. 

"The drive back's pretty long, might wanna make yourself comfortable." 

And you were comfortable, very comfortable. Chris had started to play some music from his playlist, something about his behaviour almost making you forget that he was the same boss that had worked you to the bone for over a year. 

"I'm sorry," you suddenly spoke, once you were in the city, "about what my friends said," you weren't sure where all your courage was coming from, maybe it was the many glasses of wine, but whatever it was, it was putting Chris in an awfully reflective mood. 

"And what I said," you added as an afterthought. 

Chris took his lower lip between his teeth, shaking his head, “nah, don’t worry about it.”

Obviously, that seemed too good to be true, and you’d looked over at his expression in your attempt to figure out if he was being sincere. He was definitely gonna fire you. 

“I’m not gonna fire you, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m just kind of…like, you know, wondering,” he began, “the uh… engagement party and the birthday party that you um… you know, that you missed. Were they both because of me?” 

You pursed your lips, nodding, “but it wasn’t your fault, you know. The first one was when you’d passed out… you know, at the office, remember?” 

He nodded, prompting you to continue, “the next one was a keynote session that I had to follow you to.” 

Chris gulped, his throat feeling dry all of a sudden. This whole time he wouldn’t have guessed you’d been giving up these things for him from how willing you’d seemed to work. Was this considered neglecting the needs of my employee? Probably. But whatever it was, Chris knew that he was being harsh on you more for his own sake than yours, but he was only starting to realise now that that might not have been such a good tactic.

Chris was already pulling into the hotel, stopping at the valet services as you’d slung your bag over your shoulder, Chris coming out to open your door for you, making you grimace, feeling as though you should've been the one to open it for him. 

Walking into the hotel lobby, you'd glanced at your phone, seeing as Eujin had texted you tomorrow's plans, "did you get the schedule for tomorrow? I can forward it to you-" 

Chris let a giggle escape him, nodding, "you know they would've sent it to me too, right?" 

Your lips parted in realisation, nodding as you went over to press the lift button before he could even reach over to do so, "right, forgot." 

You were sure it was something about your intoxicated state that was making you instinctively go into work mode, whatever relaxation you thought you would be getting on this weekend now seeming all too far from reach. 

"Uh... I can check what time the hotel serves breakfast and arrange for something to be sent to your room if you want-" 

"Y/N," his tone was enough to make you straighten up, goosebumps rising on your skin for some reason. 

Chris was looking at you in amusement, one hand shoved into his pocket, "you're not working, remember? This is your rest weekend." 

Your eyebrows knit in a frown, chewing on your lip as you averted your gaze, "I know but it's just... like I didn't expect to see you here and now that you are I can't help but feel like I'm at work or something," you'd turned to wonder what was taking the elevator so long, watching as the numbers had gone lower and lower, completely skipping your floor and heading to the carpark. 

"You know what? How about this," he began, pausing momentarily when you heard the elevator ding, stepping inside the empty elevator and pushing your floor button, your heart almost stopping when he hadn't made to press any button. 

"You're on the 14th floor too?" He nodded. 

"Anyway, as I was saying. To make things easier for you, let's just pretend we don't know each other, that i'm not your boss, you're not my secretary. We're just... two people that met at a wedding? You don't have to do anything for me as long as we're here, hmm?" he offered, seeming to sense your hesitance 

"Look, I'll go first," he stretched his hand out as if to ask for a handshake, "hello, nice to meet you, i'm Chan." 

"Chan?" 

He nodded, "my friends call me Chan. People only call me Chris at work." 

You'd brought your hand up slowly, grasping his in yours, the cold metal of his rings against your skin more obvious when he'd given your hand a small squeeze. 

"Nice to meet you, Chan. I'm Y/N?" you tried, looking at him for approval and earning a nod from him, trying your best to ignore the way he was smiling. 

"Yes, that's your name," he laughed. 

Letting go of his hand, you were thankful the elevator had reached your floor without any interruptions, realising just how lucky you were to have not bumped into him earlier on as he'd continued walking with you to your room, gesturing to the door opposite your room with wide eyes. 

"My room's here." 

You made to take out your hotel room key, hearing him clear his throat, and you'd turned around rapidly to face him, strangely eager to know what he was about to say. 

"Say, Y/N, I'd love to, you know, get to know you more. What do you think about getting brunch with me tomorrow?” 

You opened and closed your mouth for lack of a response. This was inappropriate, right? But then again, you weren’t working this weekend. And technically, in this situation, Chan wasn’t your boss. So, there was nothing to lose. 

You nodded, “Yeah. That sounds…nice.” 

=== 

“Sounds kind of suspicious if you asked me,” you heard Seungmin’s voice over the speaker, making you sigh. You were already ready, lounging on your bed as if to mentally prepare yourself for a stupid lunch. 

“Right? I don’t know what he’s trying to get out of this.” 

Seungmin knew. But it’s not as if he was going to tell you, no, that was Chan’s job not his. Frankly, he’d had enough of listening to the both of you whine about your apparent personal vendetta against each other. He watched his fair share of movies, Seungmin knew how these things worked. 

“Maybe it’ll give you a chance to actually talk to each other like normal human beings instead of just bickering all the time for no reason.” 

“I have a reason, I’ll have you know.” 

Seungmin scoffed, “really? Enlighten me, then.”

You’d fumbled for a reason, stuttering in your failure to find something that validated your annoyance towards Chan. 

“I don’t know, his dimples are stupid.” 

Seungmin wanted to laugh, “so you’re telling me, you just can’t stand him because of his stupid dimples?” 

Your attention was diverted when you’d felt your phone vibrate, signalling an incoming text from Chan. 

boss  11:20am -meet u outside your hotel room in 10?- 

“Shit, he wants to meet me in 10 minutes.” 

Seungmin shrugged, “10 minutes is more than enough time for you to come up with a less shitty reason why you don’t like him. Or for you to realise that you don’t actually hate him.” 

You scoffed, burying your face into your sheets as you thought of a reason. 

“Okay, I’ve got it. I just don’t like how he treats everyone so nicely and then treats me like I’m some incompetent kid.” 

“You know for a fact he doesn’t think you’re incompetent. He literally trusts you more than he does the other staff.” 

You scoffed, “yeah, whatever. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s so condescending about it, he thinks of me i’m some kid that doesn’t know anything.” 

Seungmin snorted, remembering the incident where Chan had asked him to tell you to button up your blouse after the directors behaviour during a meeting. 

“Oh, he definitely doesn’t see you as a kid,” Seungmin cackled, earning an eye roll from you.

Glancing at the time, you saw how it was almost 11:30, “okay, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.” 

Ending the call, you’d slung your small bag around your shoulder, giving one last glance at your appearance in the mirror in the bathroom before leaving your hotel room, startling when you’d spotted Chan there. 

Dressed in a black pullover and jeans, Chan smiled at you, bringing a hand up to touch his ear, “morning,” he greeted. 

“Good morning,” you huffed nervously.

He’d already begun walking, making you follow beside him, “did you get a good sleep?” 

His eyebrows raised at your question, nodding at you. His hair was curlier than usual, not styled up like you usually saw. “you?” 

You nodded, following him in silence as you’d gone down the list, realising he’d pressed the ground floor instead of where they were serving food on the 3rd floor. 

“You pressed the wrong floor,” you began, not expecting to see the pleading smile on his face.

“Actually, I was thinking of bringing you to this place nearby, I’ve been there before and it’s pretty good.” 

Your first thought was to wonder if it was expensive, knowing that this time you didn’t have the company card to fall back on. 

“Is it expensive?” You asked, seeing him shrug. 

“Not really.” 

Only when you’d reached the area did you realise how much of an understatement Chan made. The restaurant was a small cozy-looking place that served food that you’d only heard of up till now, located along a line of boutiques selling unusual trinkets and handmade items. 

Upon reaching, you and Chan had been led up upstairs to an outdoor seating area of the restaurant, the view of the scenery accompanied with the breeze instantly putting you in a relaxed mood. 

“Do you like it?” He asked, almost sounding nervous. 

Nodding reassuringly, you’d wanted to run away when you saw the way he’d walked over to where you were, pulling your chair out for you to sit on, making you flush. Never in your life would you have thought your boss would be pulling out your chair for you.

“You know, you don’t have to do that,” you told him, using the menu to hide your face from view, pulling it down slightly to watch how he’d rest his forearm on the table, scanning through the menu with a smirk on his face, his (stupid) dimples appearing on his cheeks. 

“I wanted to. You’d never let me do it for you on any other occasion.” 

You had to admit that there was some truth to what you were saying, choosing to change the subject by telling him you’d decided on what you wanted to eat, choosing something that was still within your budget for the weekend. 

Beckoning the waiter over, Chan pushed his sleeves up to his elbows as he ordered for the both of you, the waiter asking what drinks you would want, a teasing smile on Chan’s face when you’d insisted on water.

“What?” You scoffed, earning a shake of the head from him. 

“Nothing.” 

You’d leant back in your seat, about to tie your hair up into a ponytail, hearing the buzzing of your phone, reading the caller id to see that it was your mom trying to video call you. 

Sitting up quickly, you were about to excuse yourself when Chan had reached over, swiping to answer the call as he lifted the phone, pointing it towards you, his other hand beckoning for you to continue. 

“Hey, mom,” you spoke through gritted teeth, your rubber band between your teeth as you worked quickly to bunch your hair into a ponytail, Chan wanting to slap himself with how his ears had started to feel hot. 

“Hey, honey. Where are you? I called the office but they said you were on leave?” 

You secured your hair, taking the phone from Chan with a grateful murmur of ‘thanks’, making your mother’s eyes narrow, “who are you with?” 

“I’m attending Eujin’s wedding this weekend. I’m just uh…with a friend.” 

Chan looked away to clear his throat, catching your mom’s attention, “guy? I thought you told me you weren’t dating anyone.” 

This had caught Chan’s attention, having remembered Seungmin telling him that you’d broken up with your boyfriend. 

“No, yeah, mom it’s just a friend. Can I call you later?” 

Your mom’s eyebrows lifted, looking at you with a cheeky smile on her face, “oh, oh. Yes, of course you can. Have fun, baby.” 

You hung up quickly, shoving your phone back into your bag, looking up at Chan in question as to why he looked so surprised. 

“Your mom doesn’t know you have a boyfriend?” He asked, as if wanting that confirmation for himself, not feeling comfortable with pursuing his feelings if you were still in a relationship. 

You shook your head, “no uh…I broke up with my boyfriend a long time ago.” 

Chan’s lips pursed, nodding, “oh… sorry.” 

You shook your head, not being able to help a breathy laugh from leaving you, “don’t be. He was…it was for the best.” 

“D’you mind if I ask why? You don’t have to answer me if you don’t want to, I’m just kind of…curious.” 

You shrugged, not feeling as inclined to hide the information, since it was in the past now. 

“Nah he just… our schedules always clashed and I was always too tired by the end of the day to go out to find him and I guess it like, you know, sort of reached a point where I started prioritising my work and it didn’t work out.” 

Chan nodded slowly, the waiter coming over to serve you your food, “go ahead, you can start eating first.” 

You shook your head, insisting on waiting for his food to arrive before starting. “But I’m honestly fine now, it’s been more than a year since we broke up.” 

Chan huffed in amusement, “is that why you said you can’t stand dating workaholics?” 

Your giggles bubbled out of you, “honestly, I only said that to spite you. I’d much rather date someone that understands my schedule and reaches a compromise with me instead of just always expecting me to drop everything at their beck and call.” 

Chan nodded, “I get that. Yeah, work is important and all but… I feel like if you really loved someone you’d find any moment you could to be with them. Well, for me at least.” 

You laughed, “kind of hard, when we spend almost every waking moment with each other.” 

You’d looked up from your food when Chan hadn’t responded, the waiter finally coming over to serve his food, though his expression remained, looking at you as though he’d wanted to say something. 

“yeah,” he huffed eventually, starting to eat his food. 

You’d shocked yourself with how comfortable you were in his presence with the knowledge that you weren’t working. This was what you wanted, wasn’t it? To have Chris treat you nicely like how he did the other employees. Only now you were realising how easy it was to catch feelings for him just from this one change. 

Maybe you were kind of thankful he made it easier for you to hate him previously. 

It was true that you understood him better than most, and that he understood you as well, knowing what got on your nerves and what didn’t, how you worked and how you responded to things. Albeit there were a few things he still didn’t understand, you couldn’t deny that Chan was well-liked in the office for a reason, and you were beginning to experience that reason for yourself. 

Chris had been mulling over what his mother had told him about you, wondering if you were feeling the same tension that he was even as you talked about pointless things that made you wonder why you hadn’t talked about them sooner. 

Not that it was a bad kind of tension (or maybe it was), but it was akin to the feeling of knowing that you would both have to confront a realisation soon. 

“Are you doing anything tonight?” He asked as you were heading back to the car, earning a shrug from you. 

“My friends wanted to have some kind of girls night thing, you?” 

He sighed, nodding, “same, the guys and I are going out for drinks.” 

You shot him a look, “drinks?” 

He laughed, shaking his head, “I can hold my alcohol, I just choose not to drink.” 

Your eyes widened, “and I’m only finding this out now because? Do you remember when I had to drink your drinks for you during the first networking session because you lied to me and told me you couldn’t drink that!”

Chan flushed, “I wasn’t lying, technically. I really couldn’t drink that, I don’t like white wine.” 

You shot him a harmless glare, this time, letting him open the door for you as you got into the passenger’s seat. 

“Don’t drink too much tonight, yeah?” He gave you an amused huff as he started the engine of the car. 

“You too,” you held your pinky out for him to make a promise. 

Chan nodded, linking his pinky with yours as he leaned closer to you, “deal.” 

=== 

You’d heard the sound of beeping at your door that night, wondering what all the ruckus was all about, getting out of bed, taking your hotel room key and pausing the show you were watching on your phone, making your way over to your door carefully. 

“Why isn’t the card working?” You heard a tell-tale Australian accent muffled through the door, looking through the peephole to see a head of messy brown hair, looking as though Chan was leaning against the door. 

Opening the door slowly, you’d acted quickly to grab Chan by the shoulders to steady him before he could stumble forward, the confused boy holding up his hotel key and looking at you in confusion. 

“This isn’t my room?” 

You couldn’t help but laugh, turning him around as you’d ushered him a few steps forward to his hotel room door, “this,” you pointed at the door, “is your room, Chan.” 

He giggled, “you called me ‘Chan’.” 

Taking his hand, you scanned his hotel key, bringing him into his room, finding it awfully neat (unlike yours), smoothly guiding him to his bed and letting him flop onto it. 

Letting out a sigh, you couldn’t help but to feel rather endeared, seeing him open his eyes slowly to look at you, tilting his head. 

“Sorry, I promised I wouldn’t drink so much.” 

You shook your head, reaching over him to grab at his blanket, your movements ceasing abruptly when you’d felt his hand on your back as you hovered over him, his hand moving from your back to your head, patting it gently. 

Pulling the blanket up harshly in your panic to cover him, straightening up as quickly as you could. 

“Shut up, go to sleep. Goodnight,” you said, hurriedly exiting the hotel room and going back to your room, closing the door behind you and trying to calm your rapid heartbeat. 

The next time you’d seen him was at the hotel lobby, where you’d agreed to meet him so you could head to the wedding venue together. Chan had come down wearing a nice suit, something you were more used to seeing him in, his hair styled up in a familiar manner. 

Greeting each other, you’d both decided to pretend the night before hadn’t occurred. With you being one of the bridesmaids and Chan being one of the groomsmen, you were separated almost immediately upon reaching the venue, with him having to help his friend while you helped Eujin. 

“A little birdie told me you came together with Chan,” she sing-songed. 

You scoffed, “aren’t brides usually supposed to be freaking out by now?” 

“Don’t change the topic! So, did you guys hang out yesterday?” 

You shrugged, “yeah, I guess we did.” 

She narrowed her eyes at you, “so? Is there a verdict?” 

You went behind her to take her bouquet, handing it to her as you waved her off in dismissal. 

“Too early to tell,” you lied. 

“Stop avoiding the question! Or else I’ll just have to ask Chan myself,” she huffed sulkily, making your eyes widen. 

“No, don’t do that! Okay, fine. It’s good. He’s nice.” 

Even Eujin’s makeup artist was giving you a knowing look now, making you cower under their gaze. 

“Shut up, focus on your wedding, please.” 

You wished you could’ve done some focusing for yourself, with Chan’s friends nudging him when you’d gone to the back of the church to line up with the groomsmen, all of them seeming to have conspired to let you walk with Chan. 

“Why do you look more nervous than the bride?” He teased, holding his arm out for you to take, making you roll your eyes, bringing your hand up to grasp his arm. 

“You’re delusional.” 

Okay, maybe he wasn’t. You wished you could’ve taken your advice, having been distracted throughout almost the entire ceremony, your gaze constantly flickering over to Chan, and you were sure he’d noticed too, with the way he would smirk and avert his gaze to the floor in his attempt to stop himself from laughing. 

Shouldn’t he be the one that was nervous? He was the one that had shown up drunk at your hotel room. 

After the ceremony had ended and you were all done taking photos with the bride and groom, Chan had offered you a ride to the reception venue, and you’d accepted, not knowing that you would’ve had to squeeze in a car full of his friends too. 

Sitting at the passenger’s seat (thankfully), you’d prayed for the ride to be shorter as his friends had started to question you and Chan. 

“Is there something going on with you two?” 

“None of your business,” Chan sing-songed, only serving to spur his friends on even more, your eyes widening when you’d heard one of his friends murmur.

“Wait, but didn’t he say he had a thing for his secretary?” 

Your hand went up to cover your mouth as discreetly as you could, clutching the bag of your wedding gift for Eujin and her husband and looking out of the window in your attempt to keep your composure. 

Chan had seemed to share your sentiments, his eyes widening as he panicked behind the steering wheel, his mind racing with things he could possibly do to prevent you from hearing what his friends were so freely spouting.

“Oh, did he? Then there can’t be anything going on with her, right?” 

Chan had reached over to turn the volume of the music up, much to your fortune, not knowing if you would’ve been able to handle hearing them talk more about Chan’s love life. 

Eujin wasn’t kidding when she said that she’d make you and Chan sit next to each other, and you’d ended up at a table with Chan nearer to the front, with a few of your friends and their partners. Watching Eujin and her husband enter the hall, you’d been filled with excitement at how happy she had looked, clapping and cheering for them along with the rest of the guests. 

Once they were seated, Eujin and her husband had begun to make their own speeches, thanking the respective groups of people for coming, and you didn’t miss her pointed mention of how she hoped the guests would use this time to get to know each other as well. 

The way Eujin had done things was that dinner was served so that the guests could listen to the speeches and enjoy their meals at the same time, which you didn’t mind since you were absolutely starving. 

You didn’t miss the way Chan had been subtly looking out for you during the dinner, like how he would casually ask if you needed anything whenever he would get up to go to the bar, or how he’d brushed your hair behind your ear so it wouldn’t get into your food (not without a tut of his tongue), earning many surprised looks from your friends which he was oblivious to. 

You figured he was really making use of the ‘let’s pretend we don’t know each other’ thing as an excuse to be nice to you, not that you were complaining.  

You glanced at your phone, skimming over the texts that one of the intern secretaries had sent you to ask you for help, making your friend curious. 

“Is that your boss?” 

You shook your head, “nah it’s just one of the interns asking me for help with something,” you shrugged, setting your utensils down as you swiped into your email app, ready to clarify the problem for her, making Chan furrow his eyebrows in annoyance. 

Reaching over, he’d taken your phone from you, locking it and dropping it back into your bag, ignoring your look of confusion. 

“Hey, I was just gonna email her!” 

“They’re not supposed to be asking you to do things for them while you’re on leave. No working, this is your rest weekend.” 

You’d shut your mouth at that, deciding that it wouldn’t do you any well to go against him, wanting to pull your phone out to just read the emails but dropping your phone back when you saw the look he gave you daring you to continue. 

Your friend had seemed to be fairly amused by your exchange, shooting a look at Chan, “wow, now I’m really glad you’re here. You’re the only one so far that’s managed to stop her from checking on her work when she’s supposed to be resting.” 

You scoffed. Yeah, because the source of your work was sitting right next to you in a stupid suit. 

“Good to know,” he gave you a knowing smile, making you direct your attention back the waiters, seeing that they were serving desserts now. 

“Your friends make me sound like i’m a hard-ass,” he leaned closer to you to murmur, making you smile, nodding. 

“Well, they’re not entirely wrong,” you drawled, making Chan scoff, though not being able to help the laugh from leaving him. 

He nodded slowly, his expression looking fairly amused, “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

You wondered just for a moment if he was only being nice to you for the sake of his own conscience (though Seungmin would beg to differ). And by the late afternoon, you were already starting to feel drowsy from the afternoon weather, the skies darkening as though it were about to rain. Chan had figured it would be good to start heading back. 

After you’d bid goodbye to Eujin, who seemed more than eager for you to leave together with Chan, Chan had offered to drive a few of his friends back to the hotel together with you, and thankfully this time they hadn’t mentioned anything about his love life. 

“Tired?” Chan huffed with a smile, glancing at you momentarily before fixing his gaze back on the road. 

“Yeah,” you murmured, yawning. 

“You should get some sleep when you get back to the hotel.” 

You nodded, “you too.” 

Chan nodded patronisingly, earning a huff from you, too tired to bicker with him. something in him stirring at how he could’ve been acting like this with you a lot earlier if he wasn’t always masking his concern with rude phrasing. 

His mom sure was gonna be excited the next time he updates her. 

=== 

You hadn’t gotten as much of a rejuvenating sleep as you would’ve liked, reality having kicked in that you were back to work tomorrow, the feeling lingering unsettlingly in your chest as you tried to make the most of the rest of your night. Somehow, you’d found your way to the lounge in the hotel, though that didn’t help much in lessening your dread for tomorrow seeing as the only other people here were people working on their laptops.

You figured it was not so much of dreading work than dreading Chan’s change in personality once he went back to being your boss. 

Letting your head rest on the stiff cushion of the chair you were sitting on, you’d fiddled with your phone, texting Seungmin about what had happened today. 

You’d almost startled in your seat when you saw someone take a seat next to you, turning to see Chan, his tie long gone as his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his hair already falling out of place as he simply looked at you. 

Raising your eyebrows in a silent question as to ask why he was here, he scoffed, looking away from you but failing to hide the reddening of his ears, “shut up, I just didn’t feel like sitting with a stranger.” 

You huffed in amusement, “did you take a nap?” 

Chan shook his head, “nah, just finished a conference call.” 

Your eyes widened, “wait, why didn’t you tell me? I was doing nothing this whole time—“ 

Chan shook his head in dismissal, “you were tired. I told you, this is your rest time, I’m not allowed to touch it.” 

You frowned, your mind racing with thoughts on how tomorrow could possibly go, looking at the carpet with a hint of a pout on your face, “yeah, and then tomorrow, everything goes back to normal.” 

Chan inhaled deeply, leaning back in his seat as he turned his head to look at you, his hands clasped and resting on his lap. 

“It doesn’t have to, you know… like…” he shrugged, “if you don’t want it to.” 

Your lips parted, unsure how to respond to the implications of his words, unsure how to even process his words. 

“It’d be… unprofessional for me to continue to act like… this towards my boss.” 

Chan raised an eyebrow at you, shrugging, looking at you with an unreadable expression. 

“I think I’m way past being professional already when it comes to you.” 

You’d sworn the air had felt thicker, something about the way the night mood had felt, or how the music in the lounge had succeeded in relaxing you, but something inside of you was telling you to just do it, to lean forward and kiss him. And probably promptly resign the next day out of embarrassment. 

You stood up quickly, “oh, I think my cab’s here, I have to go,” you lied blatantly, Chan not making any move to stop you, simply lifting a hand to wave you off with a tired smile on his face. 

“Go, go. See you at work tomorrow.” 

===

“Can’t we ask Y/N to ask him?” The secretaries and interns were currently huddled in the pantry, having gathered to discuss how great it would be to have a field day soon.

“But Y/N’s equally as scary as him!” One of the interns spoke up, making the secretaries hum thoughtfully. 

You’d stepped into the pantry, walking through the secretaries to retrieve a juice packet for Chan. 

“Hey, what’s up?” You asked, one of the secretaries turning to you with a resolute look on her face. 

“Y/N, do you think you could um… like, you know, ask President Bang if we could arrange for a team outing soon? Like a field day or something, just as a break for the staff. We haven’t had one in so long!” 

You tilted your head at them in amusement, “why don’t you guys just ask him? He’s in his office now, I can go tell him you guys wan—“ 

“No, no! It’s different, you’re the only one that can convince him. We tried last month but he’d just told us he’d think about it.” 

You shrugged, nodding, “alright, sure. I’ll go and ask him.” 

Making your way back to his office, you’d tried to ignore your nerves as you knocked on the door, opening it to reveal Chan who was on the phone, holding up a finger to you to signal you to wait. 

Walking over to him, you’d placed the juice packet on his desk in front of him, earning a smile and a grateful nod from him, before he’d switched back to a serious expression. 

“No, yes, of course. We would want nothing more than to ensure a… mutually beneficial agreement between our companies.” 

You didn’t have to ask to know who he was talking to. Chan had been trying to negotiate a deal with one of the shareholders, since they had been trying to propose to get Chan to merge with another prominent electronics company in the industry. 

You knew Chan was more than annoyed, but he had no choice but to be civil with the president of the company since they did have many shares in the company from the time his uncle was in charge. 

“Yes, we can discuss this more in person over lunch, how does that sound? Yep. Alright, bye.” Chan sighed, setting the phone down and leaning his palms on the table, supporting himself with a pained look on his face, looking up at you with a pout. 

“I really don’t like him.” 

Chan sighed, “same here.” 

“Anyway, I’m glad you came here, I kind of wanted to talk to you about something.” 

“What?” You asked, watching as he’d fiddled with the papers on his desk. 

“Uh… I won’t ask you to handle things outside of work for me anymore.” 

Your eyes widened, “is this because of what my friends said? Because I’m honestly fine it doesn’t matter,” you shook your head, seeing him scrunch his nose. 

“It may not matter to you but I’m personally not fine with it,” he pressed his lips together. “Really, I mean it. Whatever I ask you to help me with from here on is only gonna be work-related.” 

You nodded. Was he trying to distance himself from me? Was it because of the trip? 

Your lips pulled into a frown, nodding more to yourself than to him, “okay…uh anyway I wanted to ask you um… the secretaries were wondering if we could have like a field day or something soon? Like just as a small break for the staff?” 

Chan shot you a look, knowing they’d asked you to ask him. 

“Do you want that?” He asked, earning a nod from you. 

“Yeah, I guess. It’d be fun to just have a day for staff bonding and all…” 

Chan shrugged, “alright, tell them to go ahead and arrange it.” 

Your eyes widened, finding the exchange to have went a lot more smoother than expected. 

“Will you be needing me for anything else?” 

He looked at you as if in thought, taking his lower lip between his teeth and letting it go, shaking his head, “other than to help me book an appointment with President Kim, nothing else.” 

You nodded slowly, exiting the room. 

By only asking you for work-related things, you’d expected your work-load to decrease, but it seemed as though you were currently having the most uneventful day you’d ever had. Other than drafting proposals for the President of the electronics company, there wasn’t much on your plate. 

You’d figured you would’ve been a lot busier tending to Chan’s requests but the boy had barely come out of his office, the only times he did being to head to the washroom, barely casting a glance in your direction when he walked past you. 

As if that wasn’t strange enough, he’d even let you have a longer lunch break, much to Seungmin’s amusement. 

“Doesn’t being in the legal team sound a lot more enticing now? At least you’d be doing something there.” 

You rolled your eyes, “I still have quite a bit of research to do, so no thank you.” 

“Admit it, you’re only staying because you can’t bear to leave Chan.” 

You’d almost choked on your drink, patting your chest to regain your composure, “where the hell did you get that idea from?” 

Seungmin scoffed, “you act like you didn’t call me a thousand times during the trip to tell me about things he did.” 

You’d fallen silent at that, averting your gaze. 

“Whatever,” you scoffed. 

“Isn’t it misconduct, though? If I were to date him.” 

Seungmin shook his head with an amused snort leaving him, “what are we in, the stone ages? Go wild, literally nobody cares. They’ll probably be happy if you manage to get him to be less of a hard-ass,” Seungmin told you, glancing into his cup to see how much drink he had left, “god knows when was the last time he got laid.” 

You flushed, shoving Seungmin, “how can you say that?” 

“What? It’s true!” 

You gave him a dismayed glare, standing up with a sigh as you straightened out your skirt, glancing at the time on your phone. 

“I should probably be heading back now, I’ve got work to do,” you gave Seungmin a pointed look, pulling him up from the bench. 

“I don’t wanna go back to work,” Seungmin let out a loud strangled sound of protest, his shoes stomping on the wooden panelled floor of the rooftop. 

You giggled, a teasing smile on your face, “weren’t you the one saying the legal team was what again? Enticing?” 

Seungmin pouted, pressing the elevator button, abruptly flailing his limbs in a mini outburst before straightening up and composing himself. 

“Fine, I’m fine. Enjoy your stupid office romance with Chan.” 

You rolled your eyes. 

Chan had a consultation with the legal team later that afternoon regarding the issue with the shareholder, and you’d been all-too-distracted during the meeting as you thought about what your possible ‘action-plan’ regarding your situation with Chan was. 

Taking down notes during the meeting, you’d let your train of thought wander, almost doodling onto your notebook, with one hand supporting your head on the table before you heard the legal advisor from the shareholder’s side speak up, a guttural groan leaving him. 

Looking up with an annoyed furrow of your eyebrows, you heard him lean back in his chair, “what does a man need to do to get a drink around here?” 

“You,” the man pointed a finger at you, “go and make yourself useful, sweetheart. Get me a cup of coffee.” 

Chan’s eyebrows knit into a frown, looking at the legal consultant with clear disdain on his face, looking at you to gauge your reaction. Already expecting you to do what you always did, get up with a smile and come back with the man’s coffee, Chan figured he was too annoyed by it to let you do just that. 

About to speak up to the man, you'd shocked Chan when you narrowed your eyes at him, giving him a sweet smile, "sorry, that's not my job here. Since you're not contributing much to the discussion, why don't you make your legs useful and head right over there and get yourself some water." 

You huffed, staring him down as he glared at you, directing his gaze to Chan. "Are you just gonna let her talk to me like that? I'd fire such a rude brat if I were you. Who's your supervisor, I'm gonna make sure he hears of this." 

Chan did his best to conceal his smile, simply turning his chair ever so slightly to give you a small smile, "that would be me, and I heard it loud and clear. Now, shall we continue with the meeting?" 

=== 

You’d been spending hours at your desk, distractedly doing research as you’d kept trying to peep into Chan’s office to figure out what he was doing, to no avail. (Chan had put the blinds down halfway through the day since he couldn’t stop staring outside at your desk either). 

You were technically done with your work, and Chan did mention that you were free to go home once you were done. On any other occasion this would have been considered a miracle, and you wouldn’t have hesitated to go home. But now, there was a nagging feeling in your heart that you couldn’t just leave him here, especially with how stressed out he was because of the business with the shareholder. You didn’t trust him not to spend the whole night here. 

Glancing at the time, you saw that it was already past 10, deciding that you would give him some time to make an appearance before you left, just to make sure he was alive and breathing inside his office. 

Distracting yourself with replying emails, even playing more than a few rounds of a word-search game on your phone, you figured he would’ve come out by now, but there was still not a sound coming from inside the room. 

Once the clock had almost struck 11, you figured you’d might as well go in and check on him for yourself. Going over to the pantry to make a hot drink, you’d walked back to his office, your grip tight on the saucer in your anxiousness. 

Inhaling deeply and breathing out with a resolute nod, you knocked on the door of his office, waiting a while only to be met with silence. 

Pushing open the door slightly, you’d tried again. 

“Mr Bang, is it okay if I come in?”

Upon receiving no response yet again, you’d pushed open the door fully, your eyes widening in realisation when you saw him seated at his desk, fast asleep on the chair. 

Walking over to the leather sofa as quietly as you could, you’d picked up the blanket from the sofa, making your way over to where he was, setting the hot drink onto his desk and making to drape the blanket over him. 

Only when you were adjusting the blanket did he stir awake, making your fight-or-flight instincts kick in, strangely embarrassed if he were to catch you doing such a gesture for him. 

Blinking slowly, his eyebrows furrowed before his gaze had landed on you. 

“I thought you’d gone home already?” He pouted, making you fumble to find an excuse why you’d stayed behind. 

“Sorry, Mr Bang, I was—”

He gave you a lazy smile, shaking his head, “none of that ‘Mr Bang’, nonsense. How come you haven’t left yet?” 

You pressed your lips together firmly, pulling your hands away from the blanket as you tried to straighten up, sighing softly. 

“I couldn’t leave… for some reason. I kind of wanted to make sure you were okay, since I barely saw you the whole day.” 

Chan’s satisfied smile had grew, nodding at you as if prompting you to continue. 

“but I’ll go soon. I guess,” you blurted, “unless like you know, you need me for something, then I’m fine with staying.” You stopped yourself, nodding before you could embarrass yourself any further. 

You couldn’t help but let your breath hitch when he’d reached out to grab your hand. 

“Thank you, for checking up on me,” he murmured, his close proximity making your gaze dart to his lips, averting your gaze quickly. 

“Did you not come out of your office on purpose?” You narrowed your eyes at him, hating the way your heart was doing flips at the way he grinned, his dimples showing cutely. 

You were about to pull back out of your own internal panic, but Chan’s grip on your hand was firm. 

“I’m sorry, I know I said I wouldn’t ask you for anything that wasn’t work related from now on. But It’s killing me, because you were sitting outside the whole day and I couldn’t do anything about it…” he paused, tilting his head as he searched your expression. 

“You can refuse, but I just need you to do one little thing for me,” he murmured,  pulling you forward so you’d ended up seated on his lap, your arms going out to grasp his shoulders to steady yourself. 

“What do you need me to do?” You asked, your voice a mere murmur with how the tension was absolutely suffocating you, wanting nothing more than to just close the gap between the both of you. 

Chan’s hand went up to your chin, running his thumb over your lower lip as they unconsciously parted, “close your eyes.” 

Chan couldn’t help but smirk at the way you’d done so obediently, his hand going to where your neck met your jaw, leaning closer to press his lips against yours. 

Almost as if it was second nature, he’d let his other hand grasp your hip, his thumb rubbing the area soothingly. Tilting his head to kiss you deeper, you’d practically sighed into the kiss, your hands wrapping around his neck loosely as you felt him smile into the kiss. 

“I’m glad it’s you,” he murmured against your lips, his tongue swiping against your lower lip making you let out a surprised hum, not being able to help your smile as well. 

“We should stop,” you pulled away, breathless. 

“Why?” 

You shook your head, “I could kiss you for hours. It’s already so close to midnight.” 

Chan glanced at the clock apathetically, looking at you and shrugging, his hand running up and down your side. 

“So be it, then,” he said, pulling you back to meet his lips. 

===

“Is it just me, or has President Bang been a lot less moody these days,” Seungmin heard one of his colleagues in the legal team asking her desk-mate, making her colleague nod gravely. 

The mention of President Bang had him glancing towards his office, spotting your desk empty and figuring you were inside his office. 

“Definitely. At first I thought it was just me, but he’s been a lot less harsh to Y/N as well,” she agreed. 

“Don’t you think so, Seungmin?” 

And almost as if on cue, you’d exited his office, pulling your hair out of your ponytail to readjust it, looking around as if scanning the area to see if anyone had seen you. 

Locking eyes with Seungmin, you shot him a wink, straightening out your blouse as you’d gone back to sit down at your desk. 

Seungmin scoffed, not being able to help the smile on his face as he rolled his eyes, “yeah, I think I know why.” 

[chubbyreaderwriter]

Just In Time

Bucky Barnes/The Winter Soldier x Plus Size/Chubby Reader

Imagine: Certain that Bucky doesn't return your feelings, you’re about to take a one way flight to London when you’re stopped by a familiar face. 

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: none I don’t think 

Masterlist

You bit your lip to suppress your glee as you read over the email for the tenth time that minute. You did it. You had been accepted for your dream job as a head journalist for a very important magazine. The only problem was that there was no vacancies in their New York department so you would have to move to London. While you could pretend that your friends and family would be your reason to stay, you knew that the only reason you hadn’t started to pack your bags was because of Bucky. 

Everyone around you knew about your feelings for him, except him it seems. All the little hints here and there prompted nothing out of him and at times, you had been ready to give up on your seemingly hopeless crush but there was just a small feeling that maybe he felt the same way. Nevertheless, you wanted to finally see once and for all if Bucky felt the same way as you and the only way you were going to get through to him was if you asked him straight out and didn’t beat around the bush. 

With that in mind, you got up and got dressed, putting a little more effort into your appearance today than you normally would, you wanted to try to impress him after all. You were a little nervous but on the plus side, if he rejected you, at least you wouldn’t have to deal with the awkwardness of seeing him again, or seeing him with other women after confessing your love to him. The thought of Bucky drooling over another woman made your heart hurt.You tried not to think about it too much but you knew that you didn’t even think that you would have much of a chance with Bucky. You couldn’t compete with the many model-type women he saw on a daily basis. 

Shaking your head, you focused on getting dressed, you weren’t going to defeat yourself before you had even gotten your answer. You decided to keep your outfit simple with a pair of black leggings and a black bandeau top with a white cropped hoodie. You put your hair how you liked it and decided to put some makeup on, going for a sort of natural look. Happy with how you looked, cause girl, you look fine as hell, you headed out of your apartment and headed over to the Avengers tower where you knew you’d find Bucky. 

You used to be Tony’s secretary but you quit a few months ago to try to pursue your journalism career, which Tony surprisingly supported. Because of this, you still had your ID card which let you into the building so you could see all of the gang that you had gotten close to. You had made friends with the Avengers but you had only really spent a lot of time with Bucky and Steve. 

While you were in the elevator up to the communal floor, which was where JARVIS said they were, you took a deep breath to try and calm your nerves. This was either going to be the best day of your life or leave you heartbroken for a good few months. The elevator stopped and the doors pinged open for you to warily step out. Your legs felt like jelly as you walked closer to the living room where you could hear voices. You stopped right outside the door to try to calm down your nerves before you went inside when you heard Bucky talking, “She’s just so different, I never thought I’d meet someone like her, she really makes me feel like a better man when I’m around her.” You froze and everything felt like it was going in slow motion, Bucky liked someone else. 

As quietly as you could, you turned around and walked out of the building, keeping your head held high as you tried your hardest to keep your tears in, you weren’t going to let all these people see you vulnerable. You managed to keep yourself together on the whole ride home but as soon as you closed your apartment door, you fell to the floor and cried. You weren’t sure why it affected you this much, maybe because you had spent the last three years of your life hanging onto every word he said for nothing. 

You had stayed on the floor for a hour before you realised that you were better than that, you had other things to focus on rather than a guy who you knew was never going to like you back. Sighing, you got up from the ground and walked into your bathroom to wash your face to get rid of your smudged makeup. You looked at yourself in the mirror, “You can do this, just keep yourself together. You’re gonna start a new life and be happy.” You rolled your eyes at yourself, why were you talking to yourself? 

You walked into your bedroom and pulled out your suitcases as you packed most of your stuff. All you really needed was your clothes and some keepsakes that you had collected over the years, everything else you could buy again when you were in London. Your recruiters had paid for your flight for you and you were lucky that it was in the morning, you didn’t want to sleep on a plane, it was always so uncomfortable. 

...

The next morning was a perfectly laid out routine, you woke up, showered, got dressed and put your bags in the taxi that you had booked the night before. Everything was fine and going as planned until you got a notification which was a text from Tony, 

Hey kiddo, where were you yesterday? JARVIS said you were here but you never visited me? I miss my favourite coffee maker. 

You scoffed at his message but it made you smile nonetheless. You paused for a moment, figuring out what you were going to say before you started typing to reply to him. 

Hey Tony, yeah I was going to tell you guys that I’m moving to London but I guess my nerves got the best of me. Oh and tell Bucky I’m happy he finally found a girl ;)

You had debated back and forth on sending that last part but thought, fuck it, so you sent it anyway. It wasn’t long before your phone started to blow up with messages from all of the group but you didn’t want to feel guilty about your decision so you decided to turn off your phone. 

Back at the Avengers tower, Steve rubbed his face with his hand, “I can’t believe she’s leaving, without even saying goodbye.” Natasha nodded slightly, “I can, Bucky over here took too long to man up and now she thinks there’s nothing here for her anymore.” Tony looked between Natasha and Bucky, secretly hoping he would get to see a battle of the assassins. Bucky was too busy pacing back and forth in the room to listen to what the others were saying, he was only thinking about you. 

Why were you leaving everything? Leaving him? Bucky admittedly was not the best person for acting on his feelings but in his mind, you were the perfect woman for him. Right now, he was unsure of what to do, what could he do? Run after you and force you to be with him? Yes! No? Could he? “Just go after her already! You need me to come with you?” Natasha and Tony were a little surprised at Steve’s outburst. Steve rolled his eyes at his oldest friend, “Stop pacing and tell her how you feel, I’m not dealing with a moping mess for months because you had your chance and didn’t take it.” 

Tony snickered behind his coffee mug and cleared his throat when Bucky glared at him, “I agree with Captain Spandex, Happy can take you if you want, less publicity that way.” Before Tony could finish his sentence, Bucky was already running out of the room and sprinting down the stairs, the elevator always took too long. Happy had gotten the call from Tony asking him to take Bucky to the airport and while he was wary of having such a deadly man in the car with him, he compiled with Tony’s orders. 

Bucky’s leg bounced with nerves throughout the whole journey, he was reciting what he wanted to say over and over but as soon as he started to form some kind of speech, he started over again, nothing sounded right. Bucky didn’t even wait for the car to fully stop before he was opening the door and running into the airport. He was not used to being around so many people in such a busy and crowded area but he was too focused on searching for you to let himself worry about any unwanted attention on himself. 

He cursed under his breath as he stood searching for you but was yet to find you until he saw you walking away from the check in desk, ticket in hand. Bucky pushed through a lot of people to hurry towards you, he at least had to be grateful for long lines. “(Y/N)!” You swore you heard your name and when you lifted your head up to look around the noisy area, you saw a very familiar face heading towards you, awkwardly pushing people out of the way. What was he doing here?

Your mouth opened and closed as you tried to think of something to say but you were just confused as to why he was even here right now. Bucky cleared his throat as he looked at you and for a moment he was lost in your eyes, his mind going completely blank. You glanced at your watch, “Bucky, I have no idea what you’re doing here, but my flight-” “Don’t leave.” “What?” You froze and watched Bucky as he took your hands into his own. “I said, don’t leave. Please.” You stumbled over your words, “B-But why, you, you said you found someone else, you don’t need me anymore.” Bucky shook his head, “No i didn’t, when did I say that?” 

You swallowed and looked down at your joined hands, “Yesterday, I came to the tower and I wanted to tell you how I felt before I deciding on taking this job and I overheard you talking about her, you said that she makes you feel like a better man.” 

Bucky couldn’t help the little smirk forming on his face as he realised what you were talking about. His silence worried you and you saw him grinning at you, “You think that’s funny? Letting me hear you talk about another woman when you know I have feelings for you.” You pulled on your hands to try and take them away from Bucky so you could storm off but his grip tightened enough to make you stay. He smiled, “Yes, I think it’s funny, because there is no other woman.” You frowned, “What do you mean?” “I mean, I was talking about you, doll.” You blushed and looked down at your feet, “Oh.” Bucky lifted your head and pressed his forehead against yours, “So please don’t leave me, I need you more than you know. I love you.” You let out a shaky sigh, “I love you too.” You were content in just standing there for a moment before you realised that you were in the way of a lot of people and so you grabbed your suitcases and headed out of the airport and into Happy’s car. Bucky wrapped his arm around your shoulder on the drive back. He spent the whole time looking at you and wondering what he did to deserve you in his life. 

[kpop---writings]

Mr. Park (M)

A Chanyeol smut requested by anon.

This picture really fucks me up, here’s my chance to use it!

And Happy New Year!

Working as the secretary for Mr. Park was a challenge, to say the least. He is very demanding and needing everything done in a timely manner, if not he would surely threaten you with ridiculous busy work or even being fired.

However, there was definitely one big perk. His son. The other Mr. Park.

Mr. Park Chanyeol.

You didn't see him much he had an office below his father’s top floor office. But when you did, oh man you forgot how to speak or even act entirely. You made a fool out of yourself in front of him more times than you could count, you’re sure.

He’s recently gone blonde, according to his father it looks ridiculous, but you just know the blonde and his skin tone would pair so well together. You’d hope to get to see him before it began to fade.

“Here.”

A stack of papers is slammed onto your desk, snapping out of your daydream.

“Take these down to my son.” Mr. Park says in his loud, demanding voice.

“Yes, sir.” You say without even thinking.

“Oh, and make sure he knows that is to be read over and signed immediately.”

He turns and disappears into his office without another word.

Well. That was, oddly, perfectly timed. You grab your stack of papers and head towards the elevators.

---

As the elevator dings and the doors open to Mr. Park’s floor, you feel your whole body fill with nerves. You’ve never set foot into his office before, you normally see him on the elevator ride up or when he walks past you to his father’s office.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves before knocking on his door.

“Come in!”

Another deep breath before opening the door.

Oh my.

The white blazer and shirt the exposed so much of his chest took every thought out of head for a brief moment. And the hair. My God, the hair was absolutely stunning on him, just as you thought it would be. You’re standing in his doorway making a fool of yourself, once again.

You hear him clearing his throat. “Is there a reason my father sent you down here? Or did you sneak away from your desk to come gawk at me?”

Shit.

“I-i - Yes.” You respond. Still captivated by his unbelievable beauty.

You stare into his eyes for a second and watch his face change to a more irritated look.

“Well, what is it?”

You jump, physically snapping out the imaginary spell his handsome face seem to put you under.

“R-right!” You walk closer to his desk and hand over the stack of papers. 

“Your father said you need to look over and sign these as soon as you can.”

He takes the papers and leans back in his chair, skimming over the first page.

Again, you stand there and admire him. This is the longest you’ve been able to look a him up close.

“Was there anything else I could do for you?” He asks not looking up from the paper.

“Uh..No, Mr. Park, sir. I’ll be going now.”

You bow to him and he nods his head back, and you start towards the door, back to your desk.

---

You take a seat in your desk chair, preparing to complete whatever work Mr. Park has set on your desk while you were away. 

“And what took you so damn long? I thought I’d be leaving for the day before you got back!”

You mentally roll your eyes so hard you think if you did it in real life your eyes wouldn’t come back. You were gone for 10 minutes max. What a drama queen this man was.

“I sent you to deliver papers to my son, not everyone in the damn building! Since you think you can half ass your job while you’re working on my time, surely you won’t have a problem finishing some extra paperwork tonight on your time.”

And with that he’s gone down the hall to where you assume a meeting is about to take place. 

Great.

---

“Have a good night! Make sure all of this gets completed before you leave.” Mr. Park places another stack of papers on your desk, this time much more thick.

You take a quick glance and see a lot of blank spaces, meaning you’ll be doing a lot of writing. If it wasn't for the great pay and benefits and ridiculously hot son, you would've been applied to a new job.

About 4 pages in you hear the elevator ding and you look up and his blonde hair catches your attention. Your heart starts pounding in your chest. Did he come here to see you? No, of course. That’d be a dream though.

“What are you still doing up here?” He asks, with a lifted brow.

“Just s-some extra work. What brings you up here this time of night?” You muster up the courage to ask.

“Just came to drop off these papers that you brought down earlier.”

He disappears and reappears from his father’s office. 

He glances over your shoulder at the papers. “You know, if you want to bring those down to my office, I can help you finish them. After all it’s my fault you’re staying late.” He winks, then starts walking to the elevators.

You scramble to grab all of your papers and notebook and hurry behind him.

---

In his office he actually helps, you were honestly surprised.

You’re so immersed in the paper, you don’t even notice him look up from his paper. No longer writing, taking his time to look over your face while you’re distracted.

“Would you like to take a break?” He suddenly speaks.

You look over to the clock, it’s already midnight. You’d actually rather not. But then you look up at him and his handsome face and you don’t want to miss this opportunity to get to know him.

“Sure,” You say quietly. “What are we going to do, it’s already midnight?”

“We could just talk.”

“What about?”

“Why or even how you’ve managed to work for my dad for so long? I’m his son and I can barely do it.” You hear him laugh at the end of his sentence.

You hear yourself laugh as well.

“There it is. That beautiful smile. I never see you smile.”

You lean forward onto his desk where you’re sitting on the opposite of him. “What do you mean? You hardly see me at all.”

He leans back in his office chair and smirks while gliding his finger across his bottom lip.

“I watch you more than you think.” 

You stare at him for a moment. He looks like he’s thinking about something. His eyebrows are furrowed, but he’s still looking at you.

“Come here.” He says, making a come hither motion with his finger.

You hesitate for a just a moment, before finally standing and walking to the other side of his desk.  He turns his chair to the side, away from the desk. You stop, standing in front of him. He spreads his legs and pulls you closer by your waist.

“I see how you look at me. Can you tell me what it is you think about in that pretty little head of yours when you see my face?” He asks with such confidence. Like he already knows what it is you think about.

“M-mr. Park,” You breathe out. 

“Don’t be shy. I think about you, too.” He pulls you a little closer. “Do you want to know what I think about when I see you in that tight skirt?”

You nod your head and he grabs your hand and pulls your head to his.

“When I see you in that skirt, He whispers in your ear,  “I want to bend you over my desk, push your skirt to your waist, rip your panties off of you and taste you before pounding into you until I make you cum all. Over. My. Cock.”

He lets your hand go and you feel your knees buckle before you caught yourself and lean back up. Your breath is shaky, before you speak.

“Mr. Park, I would love for you to bend me over your desk and do whatever you want to me, sir.” You say in almost a whisper.

You watch his lips turn into a grin. He starts rubbing his hands up and down your inner thigh.

“Tell me exactly, beautiful.”

“I-i,” You let out a long sigh as his fingers graze across your clothed mound.

You lean your head back, “Mr. Park I want you to fuck me on your desk in every way you’ve imagined” You yell out.

Mr. Park lets out a breathy laugh before standing up, his chair sliding back as he does so, and bringing you to sit on his desk.

He kisses you, you kiss him back. In a clash of tongues, he manages to undo the buttons on your shirt and his, before stripping you both of them. He kisses your breast that are peaking out of the top of your bra. You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer to feel his hardening cock on you. 

He finally undoes your bra letting it fall to the ground and returns back to kiss and lick all over your breast. He pushes you to lay back on his desk and began kissing down your stomach and pushing your skirt up to your waist at the same time.

He looks down at your black lace panties and back up at you with a smirk. He bites the hem of them and pulls them down using only his mouth. Once he reaches your knees he lets them fall and lick his way back up to your heat and giving a long, flat lick from the opening of your vagina to the clit. Your whole body shudders at that.

“You taste even better than I thought,” he says before diving back in between your legs and continuing to give you the best head of your fucking life. His tongue hitting just the right spot over and over again. You get that warm feeling through out your body, you feel yourself getting closer and closer. Mr. Park notices and quickly pulls away.

You groan and lean up on your elbows to look at him. “Mr. Park, please,” you whimper.

“I told you I want to make you cum on my dick while you’re bent over my desk,” he growls then pulls you off the desk onto your feet and turns you, harshly bending your upper body onto his desk. You let out a yelp and that earns you a hard smack on your ass.

“Scream as loud as you want, we’re the only ones here. I can promise you that.”

You feel his fingers sliding up and down your wet heat, then you hear him spit into his hand. You look back and watch him jerk off for a second, moistening his cock for you. You look up to his face and you catch his eyes already looking at you. You see his eyes completely filled with lust and you’re so consumed by it you literally let your head fall back to onto the desk and patiently wait for him to slide in you.

Then you feel him rubbing the tip around the edges of your heat gathering even more wetness for you. 

He thrusts into you, one hand on the back of your neck and the other with a tight grip on your hip. He starts thrusting at a consistently fast pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin and the faint sound of the desk legs sliding against the floor is the only thing you can hear. 

“Touch yourself for me. I want to watch you to touch yourself while I fuck you on my desk.”

“Yes Mr. Park, anything, sir.” You say panting.

You slip your hand in between your body and the desk and find a way to massage your clit at a speed a little slower than Mr. Park’s thrusting.

You start moaning out, the mixture of him pounding into you and your fingers on your clit increasing your pleasure.

“Yes, baby, let me hear all those sounds come out of your pretty lips,” he’s almost yelling with how close he’s getting.

He’s moaning now too. The sound of his breathy moans make that warmth feeling come back, spreading all over your body until you come completely undone writhing on his cock just how he wanted.

“Uhh fuck, the way you’re clenching right n- ohhhh,” he lets out a long throaty moan as he quickly pulls out and spurts onto what you were hoping was your ass, but considering you didn’t feel it, you know it was your skirt.

He goes to find his office chair and plops down onto it, his pants still around his ankles and his panting making his bare chest move up and down.

You sit up and stare at him, sure you’re looking absolutely wrecked.

“Mr. Park, that was-”

He cuts you off, “Would you like to go dinner with me sometime, my treat of course.” He says with a smile

You’re looking for words to say, but with him in his current state looking at you like that, all you want to say is fuck me again and again and again

“Well?” He chuckles, “I thought after this fuck you’d be able to look at me without getting lost in your imagination...we have plenty of time to try everything you’ve yet to tell me about.”

“And you can call me Chanyeol, love.”

[dowoonie-namjoonie]

Not Fine (SungjinxReader)

Paring: Mafia!Sungjin x Reader

A/N: This is all just for fun, I do not own any of the gifs I use, and please enjoy! This kinda sucks, but like honestly I wanted to get something out. 

Warning: Mafia type scenarios, gore, minor language, and yandere themes. 

All of this started three years ago when you met him. Park Sungjin, the man of your dreams and nightmares, but you didn't know that last part yet. Everything about him was like a fantasy, something out of a drama or storybook You'd met Sungjin at a club in the city, your friend had dragged you down with her, although you wanted nothing to but to stay home and eat shit loads of ice cream. Honestly, you hated clubs. You weren't a fan of the strobe lights, loud music, or even busty crowds. Your friend did what you predicted she would do, she found a hot guy and stayed with him the whole night. 

Rerendering you completely alone to drink at the bar. 

That's when Sungjin had made his way over to you. He offered to buy you a drink, and typically you would say no, but something was different about Sungjin than the typical guy who just wanted to get in your pants. No, he was different. Instantly, he pulled you into his charm with his visuals alone. Sungjin is a very good-looking guy, you had to give him that. Then, he pulled you in with how much of a gentleman he is, talking you up the whole night making sure you weren't lonely. After all, that's why he was intrigued by you because you were alone. 

Long story short, you ended up going home with him that night. Hooking up with the guy you just meant, another reason why you liked him, he knew how to treat you in bed. Usually, one-night stands don't go anywhere else, but what you did with Sungjin was not a one-night stand. God, even being him with one night was enough to get hooked on him, he was like a drug you couldn't quit. For the next three years, you'd be with him, both of you began dating. 

Another attractive trait about Sungjin was that he had money, but he never told you his job. At first, it didn't bug you, maybe he just forgot to mention it. Then, it got weird. Sungjin, throughout your relationship, was always protective of you. After four months of dating each other, he convinced you to move into his well-kempt house. You obliged, of course, you lived in a studio apartment since that's all your waiting job could afford. Well, anyway, his house was big not a mansion big but big enough to have at least five bedrooms. In the beginning of living there, you loved every minute of it. You would go to bed each night with the man you loved laying next to you, in the morning you would relax, eat, watch tv, or go on your phone to play games or text your friend. Eventually, you'd go to work at the hellhole you called a diner. 

Sungjin was good to you, every morning he'd make you this nice breakfast, talk you up, make sure you had everything you wanted. Nice clothes, a new phone, etc. He spoiled you, but with a rule. You couldn't leave the house or talk to anyone. You realized it slowly, Sungjin would always find an excuse to make sure you stayed in the house, one time your tires were popped forcing you to stay in. Then, suddenly, the cell line went out and so did the internet at his house. He'd said he would get a guy to come out and fix it, but a year went by after that empty promise. Somehow, just somehow, he convinced you to leave your job because he could provide for you. 

That's when you began to question Sungjin, you loved this man you didn't want to believe he was crazy in keeping you. But facts are facts, he was possessive and unnecessarily scared of you getting hurt. One day, you got so fed up with this bullshit, you wanted to go see your friends, even go to your job which seemed like a paradise to the hell you lived in. You asked him the question you needed answered the most, just what was Sungjin's job? 

The answer you got, after years of dating him, made your heart drop. Mafia, he told you he was a mafia boss for Day6, the most feared, ruthless, violent mafia in the whole world. It explained so much though, his money, the reason he was scared to let you go was that he was afraid you would get hurt by his enemies or the fact he made you drop everything for him. 

Three years later, while he was out on a business trip, you planned your great escape. A small, duffle bag housed your belongings. You didn't want to take everything you had because you didn't want to be reminded of the man you were running away from. You loved Sungjin, but his job and his obsessiveness made you want to leave him, you were depressed. Following the big reveal that he's in the mafia, he officially assigned his men to watch you when he couldn't. Twenty-four-seven they watched you, and if you tried to leave the house they would call Sungjin. Then you really got an earful. 

Perfectly, you studied each of the men who patrolled the house, studying their patterns of movement, and different shifts they had. You knew the perfect time to run away was 10:24 p.m because the men guarding the back door into the woods were eating dinner. 

Carefully, you made your escape, executing your plan flawlessly. That was two months ago that you successfully escaped from your boyfriend's hands. You ran away to a remote town, a place where you were sure Sungjin would never find you. You even got a remote job, this time not as a waitress, but as a secretary for a company. The job was easy mainly you answered phones and booked meetings, occasionally checking people in. Overall it was an easy job, you even had a nice two-bedroom apartment shared with your friend, Irene. Ignoring her for three years made her confused and hateful of you, but after you told her the whole story she gladly wanted to help you escape from Sungjin. You were so lucky for her. 

Life was going good for you, so you thought, Sungjin was out of your life and was now just an echo in your heart. 

Doing your normal routine, you found yourself at work again, this time late at night working overtime. Normally, no one called past seven, but your boss had informed you that a new client would be calling later on in the night. You were forced to stay, but honestly, you didn't mind all you needed was to help plan a meeting, and then you could go home and sleep. 

The building was almost empty when the client called, the ringtone so loud in the silence that it made you jump. Finally, though, they called! 

"Hello, thank you for calling the PurpleHeart Foundation, how may I help you," you spoke, a line for line in what you were taught to say.

Silence, pure silence is all you heard on the other line, so you spoke up again. 

"Hello? Hello? Is anyone there?" 

"Y/N...," a broken voice spoke up, taking you back at the sudden change on the other line.  "Dear god! Y/N! Help me!" 

You recognized that voice anywhere, "Irene? Is that you?" 

"Y/N, Y/N," she chanted, her voice in a sob. She sounded like she was in pain, struggling to get words out. "Call the police-Call someone, just don't come home-FUCK!" 

Your heart dropped, nausea bubbling in your stomach as you heard a loud crash from the other line followed by her high-pitched 

screams. 

"Irene," you urgently began, keeping the phone up to your ear but packing your work bag in the process. "What's going on?" 

You were thinking the worst, that someone broke into your house or a basic crime was, unfortunately, happening to the both of you. Life 

just wasn't that simple for you. 

"Y/N," another voice, a man's voice, called your name calmly. 

You froze on the spot, that voice, you knew that voice all too well. That voice that used to comfort you, make you happy, whisper into 

your ear seductively, and make you miserable.  

You gulped audibly, terror flowing through you. You were in shock, he found you, he actually found you, after you were so careful! 

"Sungjin." 

"If you want your friend to live, I suggest you come here right now."

"Sungjin, if you hurt her," you panicky tried to get through to him. "I swear to god-" 

Then the line went dead. 

"Son of a bitch," you spoke out loud. 

Slamming the office phone down, you slung your bag over your shoulder, running out the door and hastily to your apartment complex that wasn't too far away. Hopefully, he wouldn't do 

anything to Irene as long as you hurried up. 

Jogging up the stairs to your specific apartment, the door was slightly ajar. This was the moment, after two months and no warning of leaving him, you were going to see Sungjin yet again. Carefully, you opened the door instantly your focus went to Irene who sat right in front of the door, purposely for you to see. 

"Irene," you yelled, falling to her aid completely disregarding your bag in the process. "Oh my god, I'm sorry," you cried out. She was bloody from the wound on her head, legs and arms tied up too, she looked barely conscious not responding to you either. She had been 

hit in the head one too many times. 

"Love." 

A shiver went down your spine, your gaze now fixed on the man sitting in the chair in your living room. Other men stood, specifically his henchmen Jae, Wonpil, Dowoon, and Brian, quietly next to him awaiting your conversations. 

"What are you doing here," you got up, speaking through gritted teeth. 

Sungjin didn't look amused, instead, he sat in his crisp, black suit with a leg crossed and an emotionless expression. A deadly gaze thrown at you, he was unmistakeably mad and you were the cause. 

Still, anger took over you, and the need to correct him on what he was doing overwhelmed you. His silence was unbearable. 

"What the fuck do you want," you yelled, hot tears running down your cheek at your frustration and guilt. "Why the fuck are you here!"

"I wouldn't need to be here if you never had left me," he spoke smoothly, despite your enraged tone.  

Sungjin got up out of the chair, instinctively, you took a step back even if he was nowhere near you. "Did you really think I'd never find you," he said, picking up a picture frame on your couch's side table. 

It was a picture of you, Irene, and Irene's boyfriend. Your family, really, that's what they are to you. Both of them are the closest people you have. 

"You left a life of luxury for a secretary job, and them," he held up the frame. Practically mocking your choice of lifestyle. 

"Life of luxury," you scoffed, thinking carefully at your words. Sungjin killed people, you knew that, and the last you wanted was Irene or you to get shot by him. Sungjin wore a blazer to cover his gun, thankfully you remembered that. 

"I was a prisoner in your house-" 

"Our house," he corrected you.

You swallowed the anger before continuing. 

"Luxury is not what I would call that. I had no freedom because of your obsessive, possessive nature!" 

"I was protecting you." Sungjin took the picture and threw it across the room, the sudden action making you flinch. When he's quieter, he's irate, and you didn't want to fuck with that. 

"I had to leave you, there was no other way."

"Do you not love me," he simply asked, turning his head to make direct eye contact with you. 

"Sungjin," you muttered out. 

You couldn't answer that question, the relationship you shared was toxic and, at times, made you depressed. But he treated you so well, so delicately with love. Yes, you still loved him, after all, he did to you and you hated yourself for that. 

"Answer the question, love," he darkly said. His eyes trained on yours, casually he strode his way towards you, your body unable to move under his icy stare. 

"Please," you sobbed, more tears flushing out of your eyes. 

"Should I answer it for you?" 

He stopped right when he was in front of you, his height towering over you making you feel small. Languidly, he raised his calloused hand to your throat making you shutter with the memories of you both flooding back to you. His fingers tightened around your neck cutting off your airway lightly, forcing you to look at him the whole time. His breath lingered on your lips, making you yearn for that kiss you haven't felt in so long. 

"My love, why deny it. You love me, just as much as I love you." 

Inching his way down, both of your lips met each other. Leaving you both with a chaste kiss and a desire for more. 

"Either," he started, as he pulled away from the lips he missed kissing so dearly. "You can come home where you belong, or I can kill your friend and drag you home. Which one do you prefer?"  

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Capt. Syverson- Chapter Three: Therapeutic Activity

Pairing: Captain “Sy” Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: Tensions reach a boiling point during treatment one evening, Shane goes to her own veteran for advice, and takes the first step toward happiness…hoping beyond hope that everything doesn’t blow up in her face.

Masterlist with links to all parts HERE!

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: None, yet… ;) But maybe I should be putting language warnings in here…there are some bad words. And not to spoil but…there might be a bit of kissing in this one…

Author’s Note: Guys, I cannot stress to you enough how much I am enjoying telling this story. My goodness. To sort of combine my passions of writing and Henry with something I know so well like therapy (I’m a secretary like Heather, not a therapist), it really just makes me happy. The next chapter is already done, also, it was initially part of this chapter, but it felt too long, so I’ll be posting it separately later. I know, I’m a tease. Have Henry spank me. Lol.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

Tags:

@onlyhenrys

@cavillryarchive

@summersong69

@titty-teetee

@bloodyinspiredfuck

"This sounds…kinda dumb…" Sy expressed his thoughts on today's warm up with Shane.

"Oh, trust me, it looks even dumber than it sounds. But it works. And it's easier on your knees than doing it the right way. You ready?" he looked at the treadmill, inclined at 3% grade as if it was Everest itself, and looked back at her. "I'll start slow." she raised her eyebrows at him.

"You know just what to say to a girl." he teased as he stepped up, still gingerly, even after eight weeks of therapy. Crutches mercifully jettisoned two weeks ago. He was on his way to being his fighting fit self. With a foot on either track beside the belt, but facing away from the control panel, he waited for her to press start. He took a breath and nodded.

"Test the belt with your bad foot first, and then when you're ready, step down with it. Remember what I've told you about which foot should lead when ascending and descending stairs or hills?"

"Good go to Heaven, Bad go to Hell. So I go up with the good leg and go down with the bad leg."

"A+ student. Okay, when you're ready…any time…Sy, this is an hour session…I have to kick you out in 55 minutes…chop chop." she cajoled him, but he wasn't budging.

"It feels…weird going this way, Shane." If she had been a less kind person, she would have called it whining…she called it nothing, instead.

"I know. Do you need to walk backwards around the clinic a little more to get you used to that sensation?"

"Hell yeah. If that means you're gonna spot me like you did before…felt kinda like dancin'." it was a perfectly legitimate and above-board treatment strategy. They stood back to back, Shane guiding Sy as he practiced walking backward and pushing off with the extensor muscle group, which had been weak. Sy had suggested holding hands, but Shane had compromised with the idea to link arms. Not that she wasn't dying to hold his hand…she was. But that had not been the time. The time was still weeks away. At least.

"I was thinking I'd have you try it with Jordan. He's got a free hour right now. And I can assess your technique. How does that sound, Twinkle Toed Romeo?" Immediately he placed a tentative foot down onto the slow moving belt trying to adjust to the odd sensation of walking up a hill backward.

"Ah, so I now know that all I have to do to get you to do something silly is threaten you with Jordan. Filing that away for a rainy day."

"Come on, you're breakin' my heart, sunshine."

"Aww, don't be ridiculous. I've seen therapists do way more embarrassing things to their patients in the name of treatment."

"Tell me!"

"Sorry, but it's classified information. Protected under the Health Insurance Privacy and Portability Act. I could literally get fired for telling you, and there are way cooler things to get fired for!" She'd always said it. And she meant it. She didn't fool around when it came to HIPPA, and there was no way she was gonna lose her job over a stupid slip like that.

"Any examples of things you'd rather get fired for?"

She thought for a few minutes. She used to have a list.

"Hmm, telling off my bitch of a boss," he looked shocked at her use of a bad language word, which he'd never heard from her. She nodded. "Telling off an asshole patient," sleeping with a patient…

"What about sleeping with a patient?" It was late in the day, the only person still there was Heather in the office, and a few therapists still documenting. Nobody in the gym to hear him echo the thoughts in her head. As if he could read them as clearly as a page in a book. Large print. She looked at him in shock.

"Sorry. That was over the line."

"It was…but…"

"But?"

"But…it would not be the least cool reason to get fired."

"It wouldn't?" she shook her head, reluctantly.

"Especially if the patient was…amazing, and kind, and…fucking gorgeous…"

"Young lady, that language today, I have never!" he exclaimed clutching at his broad and beautiful chest.

"I know, but, Sy…this is all hypothetical, and theoretical, and IF I was GOING to get fired how would I CHOOSE for it to happen and WHAT policy I would go against. People don't just CHOOSE to be fired, you know?" she was nervous and rambling.

"You know what people also don't choose? Who they care about, and have feelin's for. Who they--"

"Don't finish that sentence, Sy." She couldn't hear him say the word he was going to say. She couldn't let him start that. Not when there was too much complicating their situation.

She walked off to her treatment room, needing some space.  Some time.

She didn't get that space or time. Sy hobbled in behind her, looking like a man on a mission. And she knew from his war stories that his missions tended to be successful…even the one that got him his walking papers wasn't a total loss.

"Sy, you still had like, five minutes on the tr--"

His big hands found the sweet spot where her neck met her skull. He took a big breath and closed the distance between them, his lips landing light as feathers on hers, her soft skin welcoming the roughness of his beard, though everything else about the kiss was terribly gentle. Almost chaste. Even his beard wasn't so rough that she worried about beard burn…she'd be filing that away for later, as well. Against her willpower and better judgement but in full cooperation with her desires and instincts she began kissing him back, daring to deepen it by opening their mouths a bit, and sliding her hands up the back of his red tee that sported a black skull. All of his shirts were entirely too tight, but you'd never catch her complaining. Even after several months away from active duty and really, most activity at all, his body was still so solid and powerful.

"Ain't that a daisy…Fuck, I've wanted to do that since my first appointment." he chuckled, lightly.

"Sy…"

"Don't. Don't try to argue or tell me you don't feel it. This energy between us. I've seen it in your eyes, Shane. I've felt it when you touch me. It ain't nothin, sunshine. It's a whole lotta somethin'."

"I know, but I need this job. And I WANT this job. Being a therapist is the only thing I've ever wanted to do. Helping people. People like you. Getting them better. It's what I was meant to do. And there's no place like this in the area for me to treat such a diverse clientele and build my skill set. It's not without it's problems, but it's where I'm meant to be."

"I get that. And you should do what you were called to do. You're too good at this not to do it. But Shane, isn't it worth pushing back on some policy if it could mean you get to have some personal happiness, too?"

"I'm worried they'll make me choose." Actually, it was more than that. She was worried about which choice she'd make. Giving up a ten-year career with excellent benefits despite its pitfalls, or giving up someone she could hardly stop thinking about, who made her heart pound when he smiled, and who was rapidly shaping up to be someone she could see herself sharing a life with…making either choice terrified her for very different reasons.

"You shouldn't have to choose. Any boss who'd make you deny yourself what we could have just because of some ridiculous policy…well, they ain't worth the gas that brought 'em to work today. Y'understand me?"

She nodded, smirking at his idiom, "You don't know my boss."

"Well, maybe I oughta GET to know her, if it's like that. I have a way of throwin' my weight around, case ya hadn't noticed." he shot her a smug grin.

"Ya don't say?" she retorted, brimming with sarcasm, literally still wrapped in the evidence of said weight in the form of his muscular arms, warm and thick, encircling her. Even though she felt like her life was up in the air, she had never felt more safe. "I'll try to have a chat with her about it this week. Our schedules rarely align, and usually that's how I like it, but I'll try to move some things around if nothing naturally falls into place."

"I'll be happy to lend my voice or even come talk to her, if need be." he offered, ever the gentleman.

"I appreciate that, Sy, truly. But I think it would be best not to involve you unless it becomes absolutely necessary. We have several more treatments to get through today, though. You didn't finish on the tread mill, do you think you're warmed up enough?"

"Oh, darlin', I'm plenty warm." he grinned down at her sliding a hand down her side.

"Shit, am I gonna have to start being extra careful with what I say to you until this gets sorted?"

"I really doubt it'll matter, Shane. Ain't much you can say I can't make dirty." she could tell by the satisfaction on his face that this was a point of pride for him.

"Lay down and shut up."

"Yes, MA'AM!" he complied with a little too much enthusiasm. She didn't know whether to roll her eyes with amusement or grow increasingly feral…apparently there was room for both as long as she didn't act on the latter. Yet.

~~~~~~~~

She dismissed Sy for the day, instructing him to behave himself until she gave him the all clear, and even then, if she got the green light to see him outside of therapy, sessions would still be about getting him stronger, and not flirting. Or at least mostly. They settled on a 90/10 ratio by the end. She was a weak woman.

She went into the office where one of the senior therapists, Anita, was still charting and snacking on some pretzels.

"How was your day, Nita?" she asked affectionately. Anita had been her mentor since she started with the clinic over ten years ago, and was now part time, flexing toward retirement. She'd miss her.

"Oh, long, Miss Shane. As they tend to be more and more these days. What about yours?"

"Ah…just…nothin'." she shouldn't go into it all until she talked to Susan, their boss.

"Mmm, that's no nothing nothin', that's a something nothin'. Come on, kiddo. Spill." she offered Shane one of her pretzels and kicked out the chair next to her. Again, she was a weak woman. She took a pretzel, sat, and chewed it for a moment, collecting her words.

"What do you think about…starting relationships with patients?" she searched her reaction for any snap judgement or emotion, but only a narrowing of her eyes occurred.

"Is this about that Captain Sexypants who just left?"

"I'm going to kill Heather. I'm not the one who came up with that nickname and I'm not the one who started the whole having feelings conversation. I was going to be miserable until he was discharged, at least."

"Why would you need to make yourself miserable, Shane?"

"Because the policy. About dating patients."

"Technically the policy only says you shouldn't treat family/close friends if you feel you wouldn't be able to maintain objectivity or would be uncomfortable yourself. But that you should disclose any relationship to your supervisor for review."

"See, what's Susan gonna say?"

"Who cares? The policy is the law. And the board of directors governs the policy. Not her. Tell her in an email if you can't work out a time to talk to her before you see him next. Hell, I sent my boss a memo back when I started dating Ron. And look at us now! 20 years strong."

"No way!?" Shane was flabbergasted. She had never known that Anita's husband Ron had once been her patient.

"Oh yes. I wasn't long out of PT school, my first husband had passed away and I needed an income, so I got my PT license and about a year into working here, Ron got put on my schedule. I knew from the eval, he was meant for me. So I typed up a memo, sent it to Morton, our boss at the time, and told Ron I was free on Friday after work."

"Sy just…I don't know, we have this…connection…a spark. I've never felt it with anyone else."

"Are you concerned that seeing him socially would affect how you treat him here?"

"I'm more worried keeping my feelings for him bottled up while I treat him will get so distracting I'll become less effective."

"Well, then, if you get any push back, tell Susan that." Anita said. "Just be forthright. Honest. And speak with integrity. She'll have no cause to refute it, then. And send it tonight."

"Okay. Thanks Anita. You're the best."

~~~~~~~~~

Shane spent too long, probably an hour, at least, drafting her email to Susan. It read:

To: Susan DeForrest

From: Shane Benton

Subject: Re: Treatment Policy

Susan,

I wanted to bring to your attention a situation that has presented itself with one of my patients. I have been treating him almost exclusively for several weeks now, apart from my week on PTO, and he has progressed to both of our satisfaction as well as the ordering physician. However, we have come to be quite friendly and he has expressed great interest in seeing me outside of therapy. This is something that I too would like to engage in, and I plan to accept the next time I speak with him.

From my understanding of the policy, the only thing that would prevent me from treating him as a social acquaintance would be my own comfort level and ability to remain objective. I have every confidence that my objectivity regarding his case will remain intact. I am also completely comfortable with it, and if that changes, I will transfer him to another therapist. Furthermore, I have no doubts that I will be able to maintain the highest level of professionalism throughout our treatments.

Thank you, and if you feel we need to discuss any of this further, please let me know.

~Shane Benton, DPT

And send…whew. She needed a big glass of wine tonight.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Up Next: Chapter Four- E-Stim

[nomnomsik]

Three Squeezes - (m)

Summary: Yoongi is notorious for his grumpy and emotionless behavior as director of an upcoming company. Yet, it’s a mystery to everyone how manager Hoseok always seems to soften him up. The truth is that the two are actually engaged. Unknown to this fact, you happen to take an interest in Hoseok... and he does too. 

Sope x reader, poly!au, Director!Yoongi x Manager!Hoseok x FemWorker!OC

Word Count: 8K 

A/N: A very special birthday present for @kimseokmomjins !! She not only wanted this fic to be done but she gave me lots of inspiration and ideas for it! I teased her so much with it. I hope you love it~

Trigger warning: Smut everywhere, bisexual sope, threesome, unprotected sex, profanity, polyamorous relationship, angst, sexuality dysphoria. 

“I’m leaving early.”

“Okay! I’ll see you later~”

There were only two voices in the surrounding air, two that vastly contrasted each other. Monotone and the other full of life and color. The door to the small apartment shut closed, the light early morning music playing out of the radio that sat on the kitchen counter. Hoseok took a seat onto the soft cushions of his papasan chair, sighing as he listened to the slight hum of the kettle that sat on the stove. He let his eyes close, relaxing to the swaying and soft music.

As Hoseok’s ears picked up the rattle and high squeak of the kettle, he stood up, stretching his arms up to the ceiling as he walked into the kitchen. He picked up the boiling kettle, flipping off the heat as he pulled up a teapot. His eyes flickered over the clock that struck every sound, joining with the radio.

Sometimes you can’t help who you fall in love with.

It was something he repeated and meant a lot to him. The metal can rattled as Hoseok poured tea leaves into a tea bag before sealing it up and placing it into the teapot. Within minutes, Hoseok had poured hot tea out from the sprout of the teapot, his hands coming out to grip both sides of the cup for a relaxing warmth.

By 7:40, Hoseok was out of the apartment. He was fully dressed, a white dress shirt decorated with vertical blue stripes and a pair of black dress pants matched with dress shoes. Hoseok preferred taking public transportation, enjoying the city despite being in it for a few years. As he stepped off the platform of the subway, he climbed up the dirty and greasy stairs, rounding the corner until he spotted his regular coffee shop.

“Two iced lattes please~” He sung, swiping his card as he was handed his freshly made drinks. He stuck two straws in before rushing out of the shop and down the street. As he opened the door to his office building, he smiled at the secretary before taking the elevator up to his floor.

“You’re late, Jung.” You scolded.

“Aww angel, can’t you let it go just this once? I got you some coffee!” He pouted, holding the delicious drink tauntingly in his grasp.

You looked at the tempting drink in hand reluctantly agreeing.

“Fine.”

He stretched his arms in triumph.

“You can’t resist coffee, angel~”

“Mmwhatever…” You spoke, sipping the cold and caffeinated drink. Hoseok placed his bag on his office chair before making his way over to the director’s office. Hoseok brought the back of his knuckle to the solid wood, knocking several times until he heard a grunt of approval. Hoseok cautiously opened the door, poking his head at first before letting out a big smile.

“Hi~”

He was responded back with the sound of the keys pressed rapidly by the man who worked diligently. Hoseok set the iced drink onto the table but gasped and pulled it away, walking over to the other side of the room. The man looked at Hoseok with confusion as his drink was just robbed of him. Hoseok bent down, squatting as he searched the bottom cabinets before sprinting back over to the director’s desk.

“I forgot a coaster~ Sorry about that!” He grinned, the coaster absorbing the condensation off the plastic. A light pink tint adored the director’s face as he desperately tried to focus on his computer screen.

“Thank you…” He whispered.

“Of course! No problem, Yoongi.” Hoseok smiled back, patting his lover’s head affectionately before giving him a small nudge on the cheek. Yoongi was taken aback as Hoseok pushed him further into his chair, bringing his own lips down to meet his. The two shared a passionate kiss as Hoseok maneuvered his head so Yoongi’s lips fit perfectly in. Hoseok’s hands wandered as his body leaned further into the chair, caressing the strands of hair at the back of Yoongi’s head.

Yoongi’s breath was labored as Hoseok pulled away, only to go back in, giving him no time to actually catch his breath. Hoseok sucked the bottom of Yoongi’s lip, seeking approval to go deeper. However, as he tried to push further in, he only received a slight push on his chest.

“H-hoseok, stop...We have a meeting soon.” Yoongi whined, separating their lips a few distances away.

Hoseok just hummed before colliding his lips back down. “Dun wanna~ You’re so cute like this. Who would’ve thought the grumpy director is just a shy boy?” He giggled.

“Hoseok… w-wait wait! Wait!-” Yoongi cried out, covering his mouth with both hands as Hoseok pushed and moved his hips. Hoseok observed the way Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut, his cheeks pink as he groaned. Hoseok’s happy and sunshine’s demeanor dropped as a smirk grew on his lips. He brought his hand down, running his hand over Yoongi’s clothed hard-on. Yoongi squirmed, whimpering as he pushed Hoseok’s hands away.

“I’m taking you right now,” Hoseok ordered stepping off the office chair as he started to undo his belt.

“W-what? Now? We… We can’t do it right now. We have no time.” Yoongi stammered, unable to keep eye contact as his lover amusingly stared down at him.

“What, do you not want me to pin you down on this desk and fuck you until this whole goddamn building hears you?”

“H-hoseok!” Yoongi shrieked, his face heating up. “You’re such a different person when it comes to this.” He muttered, fixing his hair and shirt.

Yoongi sent Hoseok an intimidating stare before he spun his chair around. “No, we don’t have time for your shenanigans, Hoseok.”

Hoseok crossed his arms, scowling as he begrudgingly refastened his belt.

“Fine, maybe later tonight then.”

Yoongi suppressed a blush, looking away.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Get out of my office… Oh and thanks for the coffee.”

“Of course!” Hoseok beamed. “You know how much I hate that stuff.”

He’s going to kill me from embarrassment one day.

»—————————–✄

“That took unexpectedly long, Mr. Jung.” You stood, arms folded as he entered his cubicle.

“Yeah, stuff like that happen sometimes, y/n. After all, I have very deep talks with the director.” He smiled, pulling out his cabinet drawer.

“Everyone knows you’re his favorite. I don’t know why since you show up late almost every day.” You joked, flipping through a packet of papers.

“Ouch, y/n. Don’t you know words hurt?” He jokingly cried, holding his hand on top of his heart as if he had been stabbed. “I am late every day. But I get coffee for you so... “

“Fair enough, I guess.” You shrugged.

Hoseok stood up again, shoving a bunch of papers in between his laptop. “I have to go to a meeting now. I’ll see you later.”

“Right. Bye, good luck and don’t get fired~” You nonchalantly waved, your eyes solely on the words in front of your screen. You watched as Hoseok walked down the hall until he was no longer in sight. As soon as he disappeared, you turned around, some of the other members of staff huddling around you. A bunch of voices spilled out all at once.

“Omg, y/n!”

“I’m so jealous, what the heck.

“Did you guys notice how he didn’t even deny it?”

“Jesus, did you see those veins on his neck and hands? Fuck me up-”

A loud clap echoed as you silenced the group, folding your hands on top of your lap. They all looked obediently at you, listening to you as if you were about to speak the prophecy.

“Now, everyone. Let’s go back to our work, okay? As much as I’d love to talk about his veins and neck, we have a report to finish.” You instructed. “Maybe afterward, then we can.” Some of the girls nodded in agreement, scurrying back to their desks.  

“Like where can I get a Hoseok in my life? I swear, even his ass looks fine.” A female staffer mumbled and admitted without shame, her eyes shut as she was going through some painful realization in her life. You laughed from your desk, making big red circles with the marker in your hand. But, you looked up from your work, confessing.

“Okay, but can we talk about how director Min is the most irritable person ever who’s ridiculously rude for no reason and yet…!” You paused, taking the time to think. “And yet, Hoseok somehow gets along with him. Imagine that? The two most contrasting personalities ever and they get along. I don’t think I can believe that.”

“Maybe Hoseok just gets along with everyone and director Min doesn’t want to be rude to nice people?” Someone proposed.

You shrugged, some people nodding their head in agreement.

“Ahh, who cares anyway. Director Min is like that to everyone. Can we just talk about how cute Hoseok and y/n look together though?! They’re the angel couple I swear!” A girl squealed, her papers shaking in excitement. A hum of acknowledgment filled the room like a heat of embarrassment filled your face.

“Guys… It’s very flattering but…” You trailed off.

“Y/n, you better get some of that.”

You sighed. “Guys…Hoseok’s too nice to just use them like that...”

In the end, you couldn’t help but wonder how the meeting was going.

»—————————–✄

Hoseok and Yoongi sat next to each other during the meeting, watching as the CEO had personally come to pay a visit to one of his branches. As the meeting continued, the two fiddled with each other’s hand under the table. Yoongi's right hand interlocked with Hoseok’s left hand and they both kept a poker face and stared at the monitor.

Yoongi squeezed Hoseok's hand three times, as his eyes stared dead straight. A small smile crawled on Hoseok's face as he also returned three squeezes back. Yoongi released his hand making the ‘ok' hand sign. Hoseok's eyes looked down under the table as he slipped a finger inside the circle.

Yoongi almost exposed himself, feeling the need to slap his lover for such a crude and inappropriate joke at the meeting table. Hoseok laughed silently, lifting his head back up as Yoongi began writing notes down next to him. The ending wasn’t as long as they had expected to be, and as they stood up, Hoseok gave Yoongi a big grin.

As the two of them left the meeting room, they walked back to Yoongi’s office. Yoongi played with Hoseok’s fingers as he let out a bright gummy smile. Hoseok ruffled the top of Yoongi’s head, quietly closing the door to his office.

“When are we getting our rings?” Yoongi asked, pulling out his chair before taking a seat. Hoseok wandered around the room, looking out the clear windows.

“Oh, I heard yours is taking a bit longer, but mine should be arriving today!” Hoseok chirped, his cheeks glowing pink. Yoongi hummed, opening his laptop back up.

“Don’t wear yours until I get mine.”

“W-what?” Hoseok stammered, turning around to face him.

“I said, don’t wear yours until I get mine. I don’t want people to see you have one and I don’t.” Yoongi repeated. Hoseok walked over to Yoongi, his hand coming up to grip his jaw.

“Would you get jealous if I did?” Hoseok questioned, turning Yoongi’s face until he stared straight at him.

“...No…” He muttered, his eyes darting to the side. “Ugh… this is why you should’ve consulted me first. It would’ve been so much easier to actually get the ring to fit.”

“That’s not how proposals work!” Hoseok whined, exaggerating his hands as he waved them up and down. Hoseok walked over to the closed curtains, pulling them back to reveal a line of cubicles in the main workroom with Hoseok’s cubicle the closest one to the window.

“I guess I’ll get going now.” Hoseok let go of the curtains as they covered back the main office.

“Mm.” Yoongi hummed back...

»—————————–✄

You didn’t mean to intrude when you were simply walking down the hallway. But it couldn’t be helped as the meeting doors open and out came Hoseok with Yoongi to his right. Hoseok stood a bit taller than the director, but as you squinted and looked closer, you blinked in disbelief. The director had a smile on his face, his expression completely lit up like a star.

You watched for a few more seconds looking at how the director toyed around with Hoseok’s hands and laughed along with him until they were out of view. You gasped in shock and ran back to your cubicle, sitting down as if you had seen nothing. You had never seen the director with such a bright smile on his face.

Hoseok came back to his cubicle, giving you a bright smile before sitting down. The curtains to the director’s room were pulled back, revealing Yoongi’s diligent figure as he typed away on his computer. You couldn’t help but stare at Hoseok. He was truly gorgeous. It didn’t surprise you that everyone was infatuated with his bright personality. Maybe you did want him for yourself…

“Hey Hoseok, I got you some coffee.” You grinned as you handed him the iced mocha. He smiled, thanking you and taking a sip. The two of you conversed unknown to the gaze of Yoongi who watched the entire interaction. A smile graced his lips as he watched Hoseok’s smitten attitude with you. Without a doubt, he had a thing for you.

But, Yoongi couldn’t help the dark feeling that grew inside and the lurch of his stomach as he saw the two of you together. Hoseok would always stay loyal, but would he be happy with him? He looked no different from the way he had talked to him, a genuine smile on his face and his expression bright and bubbly.

It was nighttime when Yoongi packed his things and locked the door to his office. As he walked down the hallway to the elevators, he noticed a light illuminating in the dark office workroom. He curiously walked over, ready to turn off the light when he saw your sleeping figure.

Your eyes were shut closed and your breathing was smooth and even. Yoongi checked his watch again as he stared at the time. It was too late. What the heck were you even doing this late at night? Why didn’t you just go home?

He went through the stacks of papers that were on the desk, his eyes widening at the amount of work you had accomplished. He laid his briefcase on the ground as he dug through the stack to find important data summaries and charts. The papers ranged from analytics to future predictions, and important companies and contacts.

As he looked back at your sleeping figure, he couldn’t help the way his heart sped up. As he stared at you, he couldn't help the realization. Not only were you productive and hardworking, when were you this pretty? He swore he never felt this way towards someone, especially a woman before. This feeling was foreign, different and scared him so much.

Yoongi hastily took off his suit jacket, faltering when he was about to put it over your shivering figure.

Whatever, screw it!

Yoongi laid the jacket over you and walked to the staff room, waiting for the single-serve brewer to process the drink. In less than three minutes, a hot cup of coffee was made. Yoongi walked back to the office workroom, placing the cup far away from the pile of papers and away from your arms in fear you were definitely going to spill it everywhere.

He grabbed a marker, scribbling on a spare piece of paper and placing it under your hands. Sighing, he picked his briefcase up and walked over back to the elevator.

As he drove back to his shared apartment, his thoughts were mixed and clouded, uncertainty the main factor. No matter how much he tried to repress the memory of what he saw that afternoon, he couldn’t. Hoseok, notorious for despising coffee with all his soul, accepted your caffeinated drink without hesitation. If that wasn’t a clear sign he was completely infatuated, his entire life was a lie.

Yoongi had taken an interest in you, but nothing more, right? You were a worker of his and he was perfectly content with his relationship with Hoseok. Not that Hoseok wasn’t, but he wasn’t sure anymore. There were lots of self-doubts that he bottled up.

When you eventually did wake up 30 minutes later, you rubbed your eyes, your nose picking up the scent of coffee. You looked confusedly around you, pulling the jacket off your shoulder and in front of your eyes. This was not your suit jacket. You weren’t rich enough to own one of these. As you brought the jacket up to your nose, you could make up the scent of a familiar cologne. Wasn’t this the scent of Hoseok’s cologne?

As you stretched, a paper fell out from the desk and you picked it up. You brought it up to the light, squinting.

“Go home y/n. I don’t pay you for overtime...”

You blinked, trying to read the even smaller text below that.

“Also, I made you coffee.”

“What in the-” 

Needless to say, this note was definitely written by director Min. You can identify his chicken-scratch any day. But as you dwelled on that fact, you felt your face heat up. Your boss had walked in on you sleeping, completely passed out on the desk and most likely drooling. 

“Ugh, fuck my life!” You screamed into the empty office.

“Why’d he even make me coffee… Doesn’t he know it’s 2 am…”

»—————————–✄

The air only grew thicker every time you met eyes with director Min through the window of his office. It was more awkward as you embarrassingly returned his suit jacket back to him. Before, you would’ve thought you could easily stand up to director Min, but you never expected that he had such a delicate soft side. The fact that he cared for your health and wellbeing gave you an indescribable warmth.

Your interactions with Hoseok were still the best parts of your day as you too chatted with each other. You were so lucky to sit right across from him. Yoongi was forced to watch the interactions that occurred each day, praying for his ring to hurry up and arrive so he can make a statement.

And that date came, his resized ring, which fit perfectly on his finger, came in. The silver metal was sleek with a small diamond embedded in the middle. It didn’t stick out, but at the same height with the rest of the ring. Hoseok had dropped his things when he returned back home and saw Yoongi with it on. He kissed the older until they broke into a giggling fit. Hoseok held onto his hand as they walked together to the wardrobe that stood in their bedroom.

Hoseok pulled out the box that held his ring and slipped it onto his finger as he sighed in bliss.

“It’s official.”

“It was official when we filled out the documents.” Yoongi deadpanned.

“I’m trying to be romantic here!” Hoseok rebutted, pouting.

A calm silence filled their entire home as they both looked at their rings together. It looked different when it was on their finger, more beautiful and meaningful.

“Hey, Hoseok…” Yoongi started, feeling the urge to talk about their relationship. “How do you feel about y/n, romantically?”

“W-what?” Hoseok questioned, taken aback. “Y-yoongi, what are you talking about…?”

“The way you look at y/n is very similar to how you look at me, so I want to know-” He turned his gaze to Hoseok. “Tell me how you feel about her, now.”

“Yoongi, I-I…” Hoseok took a few steps back. “Do you not trust me?” His voice quivered as he couldn’t look at up. “I haven’t done anything...A-and, I wouldn’t do anything to her…” 

“Of course I believe you, Hoseok. You’re too nice to actually hurt me.” Yoongi replied calmly. He walked closer to his lover, wrapping his arms around him. “I’m sorry... I almost made you cry.” Hoseok embraced his lover as he tightly held onto him.

“I’m so sorry, Hoseok. I just-” Yoongi sighed as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “Y’know, I just... Whenever I thought too much about it, I got confused. I never thought I’d find a woman attractive and I previously knew about your past relationships with other women. But... I guess I was envious. You’re always so open about your sexuality that I couldn’t-”

“Yoongi, it’s alright. Take deep breaths and calm down.” Hoseok murmured, rocking his body back and forth. “You’re right, I should’ve made it more clear. I’m sorry too. I wish I could’ve helped you while you were struggling with it. I know how it feels to be lost and confused and I’m sorry I let you down.”

Yoongi sniffled and felt his eyes well up with tears. He kept sniffling as he broke down in Hoseok’s arms. Hoseok softly kissed the top of his head as he held onto him. 

For the years Hoseok had known him, Yoongi was not a guy who cried often. In fact, Hoseok really has only seen Yoongi cry twice before this. Once when he had asked Yoongi out and twice when he proposed to Yoongi.

To see Yoongi be so vulnerable in front of him warmed his heart. This is what he felt love was. This is what having a solid and trusting relationship was. It was something Hoseok only dreamed of when he was younger and now he had just that with the man he loved with his entire being.

The night ended with the two of them in their bed, rings adorned on their fingers as Hoseok made love to him. It was sweet, soft, and romantic that Yoongi couldn’t help the tears that streamed down his face as he stared back up as Hoseok. His life, being a constant mess of work and stress, was always made better with Hoseok. Stress that accumulated as the director of an upcoming company went away as he lost himself. With Hoseok, he didn’t need to think about any of that. He was more than happy to give him what he wanted. With him, Yoongi drowned all his worries away.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The pair fell asleep giving three squeezes with their hands locked together.

»—————————–✄

The next day caused a huge uproar in the office. As Hoseok walked in, smiling and waving ‘hellos’ to everyone, they all immediately noticed his ring. A crowd formed around him all asking him hundreds of questions. Hoseok eyes widened as he blinked and smiled innocently at all the people. You gawked at the beautiful ring on his finger. Now you felt a bit bad that you were blatantly flirting with him when he already had someone.

When the elevator door open and up came Yoongi, it caused even a bigger uproar. He gave a small wave and everyone screamed as they pointed at the same ring on his finger.

“Oh my God!”

“A-are you guys m-married?!”

“AHHHHHHHHH!”

“WHAT THE HECK I DIDN’T THINK-”

“Uh… Good morning to you all too. Now get to work.” Yoongi responded calmly, walking off. As he slipped into his office room, a smirk graced his lips in triumph. 

Now everyone knows the truth.

“Congratulations, Hoseok.” You whispered as he made his way to his desk. He gave you a happy smile, a blush adorning his cheeks.

“Thanks!” He beamed, opening his folder of papers. “Oh, y/n, after work, my fianc- I mean, um… Director Min says he needs to speak with you.” He blushed, pretending as if nothing had happened.

“Y-yeah, okay.” You replied.

Oh no... nononono. Did director Min know I was trying to flirt with his fiancé? But, then again he never worn or said anything about it… Ah, I’m doomed. I’m done for! I’m going to get fired 10 hours from now, I just know it.

Even though you busied yourself in papers and work, the time just flew by. It was already 6 pm and as you knocked on the door, Yoongi’s muffled voice came through. You entered the spacious office only to be met with Yoongi’s expressionless face as he stared at his computer screen.

“Take a seat.”

You pulled one of the chairs that stood in front of his desk as you nervously folded your hands on your lap. The door creaked open as you turned your head around, you were met with the happy smile of Hoseok. He waved as he walked over to his fiancé. Yoongi cleared his throat as Hoseok leaned on his desk.

“So y/n, there was something we wanted to discuss with you.”

You nodded obediently, hoping for anything to break the awkward air. Yoongi continued,

“As you know, Hoseok and I are engaged. And… Well to put bluntly, we both took a particular liking in you. You’re hardworking and extremely diligent and from what I’ve seen, you look like someone who’s loyal.” You lowered your head, unsure whether you were hearing this right.

“Y/n, we were wondering if you would be interested in a… polyamorous relationship with us... We… we may not have the strongest bond together, but we are willing to build one up with you…” Yoongi desperately scanned your face, looking for any sort of expression or confirmation, or anything.

“Um…” You nervously started, clearing your throat. “Well… I do… have a particular liking in both of you, of course, but… I’m… I’m not sure…”

“Of course! We get that!” Hoseok chirped. “We’re not sure how these things work either, but we want to do it with you. After all, you do like us, right?”

“Yes!” You replied with sudden enthusiasm. “Oh… I’m sorry… Um, yes I like both of you. But isn’t that… bad? Shouldn’t I only like one person?”

“Nonsense, y/n.” Hoseok cooed, walking over to cup your face in his hands. “You can’t help who you fall in love with. If you know the difference between love and lust, then that’s all that matters…”

“B-but, what does it mean to be in love?” You whispered.

“How about we find out together?” Hoseok whispered back, wiping away the tear that rolled down your cheek.

You followed Hoseok and Yoongi out of the office as the three of you rode the elevator together. The silent of the night was the only thing that roared in your ears. Even the sound of the engine of Yoongi’s car did not overpower the sound of the night. You watched each time the car would stop at a red light, the pair of lovers would fiddle their hands with each other as if their eyes were to only study their delicate features.

A part of you questioned why you were following them, knowing eventually how the night was going to end, yet, you wanted to be a piece of that love, no matter how small or insignificant. Yoongi held onto your hand, as you climbed the stairs together. His skin was cold and pale, yet he had held you so warmly and lovingly. You could understand why Hoseok was completely in love with him. He pushed the door open to the bedroom as you sat on the fluffy cushions. You brought your legs to your chest as you sat on the pillows, your eyes staring at the entrance of the room.

Yoongi approached you, staring into your eyes. You gulped, the sound echoing in your ears as you tried to stare him down. He smirked at your game, before softly kissing your lips. You smacked your hand over your mouth, face burning up. When you looked up, Hoseok was casually leaning on the wall of the door entrance, smirking at the two of you.

“Did you guys start without me?” He teased, walking over to the bed.

“Are we really doing this?” You asked embarrassingly as both men approached you on the bed.

“Yes.” They both replied in unison. “We both talked about it and decided we’re okay with it,” Yoongi added.

“Unless you don’t-”

“I do!” You cut Yoongi off.

Yoongi nodded, leaning down to kiss you again. But, instead, he roughly kissed your lips, biting your bottom lip.

As the two of you exchanged heated kisses, Hoseok worked on undoing the pants of his fiancé. Hoseok slapped Yoongi’s clothed ass as he flinched a bit. He parted lips from you as he turned to face Hoseok.

“What the heck was that?” He questioned accusingly.

“Don’t jut your ass like that then.” Hoseok looked at him darkly as Yoongi felt a shiver down his spine and obediently backed down.

You watched as Hoseok’s arms wrapped around from Yoongi's back and up to the front of his pants. They shared a kiss as Yoongi tilted his head back to perfectly fit Hoseok’s lips. As they roughly embraced each other, Hoseok’s veiny hands fumbled with the clasp of the belt as he desperately tried to undo it. Yoongi’s hands came down, guiding him and pulling the belt out from his hands.

With the belt thrown onto the floor, Hoseok slid down Yoongi’s pants as he broke off the kiss, panting and eyes fluttering open. He directed his attention back to you as Yoongi crawled over the sheets to bring his lips back to yours. Hoseok pulled the pants off Yoongi’s feet, palming the bare skin of his ass.

You moaned as Yoongi shared kisses with you, his hands resting on your thighs. Hoseok watched as he pulled the nightstand drawer open and squeezed lubricant over his fingers. Yoongi gently pulled on your ruffled shirt, urging you to take it off. His hands slipped under your shirt, unclasping the back of your bra as he dove his tongue into your mouth. You whimpered but lifted your arms enough so Yoongi could slip your top clothing off. It joined all of the other discarded clothes on the ground.

The passionate kiss was cut off as Yoongi yelped and pulled back from you. You cracked your eyes opened, only to see Yoongi whining and arching his back. Hoseok was halfway balls deep as he tilted Yoongi’s head back again to meet his lips.

“Don’t ignore our guest, Yoongi…” Hoseok was stern on the way he spoke, using that time to fully submerge his length in. Yoongi groaned, gripping the sheets as he suddenly looked embarrassed when he met your eyes. He turned his head the other way, hiding his embarrassment as he couldn’t keep eye contact.

“Now, now, Yoongi. Don’t you think that’s…” Hoseok’s hand came down on Yoongi’s ass. “Rude?” He rubbed the red skin soothingly as he nudged Yoongi’s head back to your eyes. When he didn’t get a response out of his fiancé, he gave a few thrusts, causing Yoongi to squirm and whine.

“Hmm? Why aren’t you answering, love?”

“Mm sorry…” He apologized, unbuttoning your pants and undergarments, sliding it down your legs.

He stared, bringing and dipping a finger between your folds. You squirmed as he barely made it halfway in.

“Wow…” He marveled. “Hoseok, she’s so wet already.”

“Oh really?” He teased, looking over the shoulder of his fiancé. “I think you should treat her as a way to apologize.”

Without hesitation, he dipped his head in between your legs, working his tongue. A blissful feeling overcame your body as Yoongi ate you out without tomorrow. You squeezed your eyes closed as you grabbed and pulled on his hair. You whimpered as his tongue worked deeper and deeper, wet sounds echoing throughout the room. However, the pleasurable feeling was cut short as Yoongi faltered. The loud sound of Hoseok’s hips connecting with Yoongi’s ass rang in your ears as your eyes shot open.  

“Ahh! Hoseok!” Yoongi cried out, his mouth losing concentration. He brought his hand to push back Hoseok’s hips to which Hoseok only roughly grabbed.

“Aww, how cute.” Hoseok spit, pulling Yoongi further onto him.

Yoongi brought his spare right hand up to his mouth as he muffled his moans, trying to hide his very weak resistance. You watched with wide eyes as Hoseok completely dominated Yoongi, taking control of the director’s movements. This Hoseok scared you. His angelic and soft office persona contrasted his sexual drive in bed. He was truly a demon.

“Nonono, we’re not having that.” Hoseok hissed, prying Yoongi’s hands away from his mouth. “I’m hearing everything I give you. And I bet y/n wants to hear it too. Y/n, look at how adorable and submissive the director is. Is this what you envisioned him to be?” He laughed darkly as he slammed into Yoongi.

“F-fuck! Ahhhh…” Yoongi panted, his head falling onto the pillows and upper body giving out. You couldn’t help the arousing feeling that dripped out between your legs as you watched Hoseok completely wreck Yoongi.

“Is… Does this usually happen?” You whispered, the breath taken out of you.

“S-shut up…” Yoongi grit, as he struggled to pull himself back up with his weak arms. His pride wouldn't let him just sit there and be quiet.

Hoseok hit his ass again, a sting radiating over Yoongi’s body as he yelped in pain.

“Don’t be rude to y/n. You’re my good boy, right? Now act like one.”

With that, Yoongi cried out as Hoseok’s right hand reached for his dick. His hand gave long strokes as he jerked Yoongi off.  

“H-hoseok!! I… P-please! AH!” He pleaded as tears welled up in the corner of his eyes. The stimulation was too much for his poor body.

“Shhhhhhh.” Hoseok hushed, not stopping his actions. “Shit… You’re still so tight… How in the actual hell... Even after all the times I-” He trailed off, Yoongi’s cries like music to his ears.

Hoseok’s deep thrusts combined with his jerk-off was too much as Yoongi was edged to oblivion. Yoongi convulsed and squirmed in his hold, struggling to tolerate the unbearable pleasure. However, Hoseok let go as he put both hands on Yoongi’s hips, driving to his own high.

“C-coming…” Hoseok stuttered, his hips following with him. Hot liquid spilled inside Yoongi as Hoseok squeezed his eyes shut. Your eyes never left the pair as you watched in amazement. Yoongi’s hair was a mess as it completely covered his eyes. Hoseok was out of breath as he stayed inside for a few more seconds before watching as the white liquid spilled out.

“Sorry about that, y/n. We didn’t mean to make you feel neglected.” Hoseok panted out, sweat rolling down his skin.

“Nono, I didn’t even feel that way. I was too… enthralled by… wow.” You replied, still in disbelief how Yoongi’s small and frail body handled that session.

“Y/n, come over here,” Yoongi ordered. You jumped but crawled over, sitting on your knees obediently. “Cute…” He murmured, running his hand through your hair. You felt your cheeks heat up by his compliment and touch. Was he always this sweet?

“Are you okay with this?” He asked, his eyes holding a fierce determination.

“Y-yes, I am.” You nodded.

Even though Yoongi was the biggest sub to Hoseok a moment ago, he still possessed an intimidating presence around you. You couldn’t help but bow down to him.

“On all fours.”

You obeyed.

“Stick your ass out a bit more.”

You listened.

Yoongi lined himself up at your entrance, observing your stiff body.

“Y/n, breathe. I won’t be rough in the beginning.”

You relaxed your muscles, taking a deep breath as Hoseok sat in front of you, patting the top of your head. He connected your lips as Yoongi slowly pushed in. The stretch hurt, but Hoseok made it his goal to distract you from the pain. He left soft kisses all over your skin as you took Yoongi in.

“Look at you… Such a good girl.” Hoseok praised, ruffling your hair.

A moan left your lips as Yoongi sank back in and out. After a few minutes of passive kissing and slow thrusts, you no longer felt the pain.

“I’m okay now…”

“Are you sure, angel? We have all the time in the world.” Hoseok spoke softly.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” You whispered.

Yoongi began a steady pace as you both groaned together. Hoseok watched as two people he cared about pleasured themselves. The innocent look on your face made his mouth water.

Over time, Yoongi’s pace got more intense, until you let out a cry during a particular thrust. Both of the men’s gaze darkened as they stared at you. Yoongi’s hands kneaded your ass as Hoseok no longer had an angelic smile on his face.

You shuddered as Yoongi’s pace completely flipped. He pulled you onto him, fully sinking you onto his length. You whined as you gripped the bed sheets, your body meeting his thrusts.

“A-ah!” You yelped as he grabbed a bundle of your hair and pulled you back. He could no longer hold back, setting a rough pace.

“Yoongi, go harder,” Hoseok commanded.

Upon hearing those words, Yoongi slammed back into you, earning a delicious whine from your lips. Your legs shook and trembled as Yoongi tightly held onto your hips, guiding you the entire way. Hoseok sat in front of you, gently stroking your hair as he watched every heavenly expression you gave out.

You clawed at Hoseok’s legs, looking for anything, any leverage. Hoseok smirked as he stared at your pathetic and desperate figure. From the way you had tears welling in your eyes to the loud gasps each time Yoongi had smacked your ass.

“S-shit…” Yoongi cursed, tilting his head back as he lost himself in pleasure.

“You’re so beautiful, y/n. Look at you. You’re doing so well.” Hoseok praised as you leaned your head on top of his thighs.

You cried out every time Yoongi connected his hips with yours, filling you with sheer pleasure as your mouth hung open. His rhythm was steady and rough as he kept his consistency. The grip on your hips was like a vice, knowing full well that bruises were going to form the next morning.

“H-hoseok, I think-” Yoongi muttered, increasing his pace and pushing his body more and more against yours. “S-shit!! Ahh, I can’t-” Yoongi cried out, sweat rolling down his forehead as you tightened too much around him. Yoongi trembled and he finally came inside you, panting as he stayed in for minutes. A euphoric rush overcame him as he slipped out and fell face first on the covers only for Hoseok to push him out of the way and flip you over until you were on your back.

Hoseok pulled your legs apart as he watched cum spill out and onto the clean silk sheets. You, on the other hand, were harshly breathing in and out, hoping to catch a break. Hoseok grinned, his ears delighted to hear the moan that escaped your lips as he pushed in.

“Do you think you can take me?” Hoseok taunted, brushing the hair that stuck onto your face.

“I-I… What do you… mean?” You took labored breaths, feeling extremely filled.

“Do you want me to hold back, y/n?” Hoseok sweetly cooed, staring directly into your eyes. “I can hold back if you need a break, love.”

You shook your head. “No… I can… I think I can, Hoseok…” Your voice trailed off as you prepared yourself for the man in front of you.

“You’re so good to me, angel~” Hoseok cooed again before violently snapping his hips harshly. LIke a flip of a switch, his whole demeanor changed as he roughly slammed into you.

“Fuck!” You cried out, squeezing your eyes shut as you gripped the sheets on both sides of you. “H-hoseok! Ah! W-wait! Wait! Ah!”

“Goddamn, you sound so good,” Hoseok growled as he hovered over top of you. You shuddered, feeling another touch on your skin. Yoongi gently stroked your cheek as he stared down at your lust filled face.

“Look at how good she looks, Hoseok.” Yoongi slurred, watching intently every time Hoseok moved. “I bet she wants you to ruin her.”

“N-no. T-this is f-fine. No… more than this.” You choked out, the intense pleasure blurring all line of thought.

Hoseok let out a devilish smirk as he grabbed your hips, only to push you down on him harder. You cried out, your body shaking as you twisted and bundled the sheets beneath you.

With your half-lidded eyes, you stared up at Hoseok, his face contorted in a serious expression as he focused on delivering the most pleasurable experience. His body was hot and sweaty as his lean muscles flexed every time he adjusted his grip on you.

As Hoseok slowed down for a bit, you pushed your legs back together in hopes of relieving the aching feeling between your legs. You rolled over onto your side, both of your legs fully shut and on top of each other. Hoseok tsked, grabbing ahold on of your right leg, prying it open and exposing it back up.

“Don’t fucking close them.” He seethed, immediately pushing his length back in. You let out a high cry as Hoseok realigned himself, his arms holding your legs apart.

“Where is it…” He grit, plunging back into you in several directions. “Where…”

“H-hoseok, what are y-you…” You whined, looking up to only see his eyes concentrated on your legs. Hoseok thrusted roughly back again, causing a surprising yelp out from your lips. You instinctively covered your mouth with two hands as Hoseok smirked.

“Found it…” He mumbled as he repeatedly hit the same spot over and over again. Yoongi wrestled with your hands as he pulled them off from your mouth to hear your beautiful cries of pleasure.

“Now be a good girl and take it, okay? We know you can. You’re such a strong girl.” Yoongi murmured into your ear as you lost the ability to form coherent words. Every time Hoseok hit your sweet spot, an indescribable shock was sent down your spine as your legs quivered. The snap of his hips was quick as he reached your g-spot almost effortlessly every time.

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Hoseok let out a string of curses as he buried himself even deeper. He gave you every single precious inch as he tried to outdo himself. “She’s… Fuck! Don’t do that… Ah, shit. Shit! I’m not going to last-” Hoseok’s voice trailed off as he fell on top of you, his lips right next to your ear.

“A-are you going to cum, y/n?” Hoseok groaned into your ear, his pace unrelenting as you squirmed and moaned.

You gave him a small nod of your head as he kissed your cheek. “O-okay…” He stuttered. “Let’s f-finish then.”

With a few more thrusts, you came, tightening around Hoseok’s length as he groaned. His pace lost its precision as he erratically pushed in. Seconds later, Hoseok released his sticky and warm cum all over, immediately spilling out as he sat up. Yoongi gave him a grin as they both stared at your fucked expression. Your hair stuck to your face as your eyes shut closed, completely exhausted.

“C’mon angel, there’s one more thing left.” Yoongi kissed the top of your forehead as you slowly opened your eyes back up. Hoseok looked divine and golden. From the way his hair parted to how it stuck to his forehead, it was too beautiful for your eyes. His toned chest and stomach suddenly made you feel much smaller than you previously felt before.

Hoseok brought his lips to yours, softly connecting them as he tasted the inside of your mouth. As he separated from you, he reached behind you to kiss Yoongi. Hoseok’s body toppled over you as he roughly dragged Yoongi closer to him. Yoongi let out a yelp before Hoseok crushed his lips again, diving his tongue straight into the cavern of his mouth.

“I love you, Yoon.” Hoseok smiled sweetly, nudging his forehead before breaking into a contagious giggle. Yoongi couldn’t help but smile himself as they both interlocked left hands, their rings matching.

“Let’s clean her up and then rest.” Yoongi proposed, his eyes grazing your sleeping figure. Hoseok nodded along, their eyes staring lovingly at their new partner, a new beginning with an addition to their family.

Hoseok and Yoongi curled on each side of you, a warm blanket overtop them as they huddled as close as possible to your body.

»—————————–✄

As morning peeked in from the curtains, you shuffled in the bed, grabbing hold onto the sheets. Your arm laid on a toned chest and your back pushed against another chest. You slowly sat up, rubbing your blurry eyes, An arm from behind you pulled you back down, giggling in your ear.

“Mmm, good morning, y/n,” Hoseok whispered, his voice hoarse. As you stared at him, you couldn’t help but gawk at his good looks despite just waking up. His hair was a mess yet it parted on top of his forehead beautifully. His hoarse voice sent tingles down your body as you leaned into his embrace.

“Good morning, Hoseok.” You murmured, earning a kiss on the neck.

You yelped as you felt another pull behind you. As you turned your head, you were greeted with a poof of hair coming from Yoongi’s head. He had a scowl on his face as he nudged his face into your neck.

“Don’t hog her all for yourself…” He mumbled, his voice much lower than how he regularly spoke.

“Are your voices okay?” You asked, concern lacing your voice.

“They’re alright, y/n. I think it’s just cause we never got that vocal before…At least for me.” Hoseok winked teasingly.

You hid your face in your palms, your whole body heating up. The more you thought about the night before, you couldn’t help but be embarrassed. You just slept with your company’s director and manager, who were married to each other. There was something in you that couldn’t get over that. However, both men let out protests as they clawed at your hands.

“Don’t hide your beautiful face, y/n~” Hoseok whined, trying to pull your hand off.

“Let me see youuu…” Yoongi pouted, his chin resting on your shoulder.

They both tickled your sides as you squirmed around to which they immediately pried your hands off.

“Victory is!” Hoseok shouted.

“Ours!” Yoongi chirped, even getting himself excited.

The two boys rested their heads on each side of your bare body, leaving small kisses over your skin. You brushed through Hoseok’s hair as he dove straight from your neck and shoulder.

“...Love you…” You heard them mumble as their kisses became more heavy and rough.

You felt Yoongi’s hand grip your chin, turning you to face him. He connected his lips with you sloppily as saliva spilled down the side of your lips. His lips tasted of rich lavender and a hint of peach. Hoseok intertwined both of your legs together, marking your skin.

Both men squeezed each one of your hands three times as they sighed in bliss.

“Why’d you squeeze it three times?” You asked, looking back at your hand.

“It’s our secret message to each other,” Yoongi mumbled, turning over to face you.

“What does it mean?” You asked as both Yoongi nudged his head on your chest.

Hoseok kissed the top of your forehead and then your cheek.

“It means, ‘I want to spend the rest of my life with you.’”

Your cheeks heated up as you hid your face into the pillow. Hoseok only stared warmly at you.

“You’re the one for us, y/n. We’ll figure things out in the end. Let’s just enjoy the ride. Together~”

[ Part Two ] 

[staticscreenwriting]

12 Days of Christmas - [Day 4]

A/N: Day number 4 for the Christmas coundown with @mattysheelies. This one’s almost 6k words. I loved writing this and I hope you like it too. It’s cheesy and cutesy and maybe cliché but it’s Christmas so idgaf. ENJOY ♥

Prompt: Snowed in together.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

“I felt so lonesome, all of a sudden. I almost wished I was dead.”

It happens, every once in a while, that you read a sentence in a book that you’ve read a hundred, maybe a million times before and it suddenly hits you like a punch straight to your gut. Because it’s different now. The book has stayed the same all through the seasons but you realize, you’re a whole new person who’s been through a whole new set of trials and tribulations. And all of a sudden you understand. 

I slump back into the cold, sticky plastic of the bright blue seat and clutch my beat up copy of Catcher in the Rye closer to me. I face the huge windows, looking out into the black of the night and the airplanes, firmly rooted on the ground. There’s a heavy downfall of snow and no sign of it stopping anytime soon. 

Maybe, I realize, this is my reckoning. Isn’t this what I’ve been wishing for ? A white Christmas like the one from the songs and the movies ?

Well merry fucking Christmas, (Y/N).

Every snowflake is a sick reminder of what could have been. Of what isn’t. 

I let my eyes travel around the area. Rows and rows of blue plastic seats. There’s not a lot of people waiting around here. I assume most people have flown home a few days ago to make it in time for Christmas and the few that weren’t smart enough to do that, have resorted to some bar or a restaurant or something. 

In theory, I could do that too. The thing is, spending Christmas eve by myself in an airport restaurant, would just seal the deal for this being the most depressing and downright sad Christmas of my whole life. 

So I stay seated and lose myself in Holden Caulfield's delightful pretentiousness. 

They’re playing Christmas music from a nearby speaker. I wonder if they want to taunt me. Me and everyone else stuck in a fucking snowstorm on Christmas Eve in god damn Indianapolis. They even have a tree set up and where it should make people happy, it only makes me even more sad. I wanna be home with my family, decorating my own tree with all the weird and quirky ornaments we’ve collected over the years. They all come with their own stories and it fills my heart with bittersweet nostalgia.

I’ve never known what being homesick feels like until tonight.

Again my eyes move along the rows of plastic seats. There’s a man in a sharp suit a few rows down. He’s got neatly combed hair and a red tie and shiny shoes and a face that says “ My name is Michael and I don’t allow anyone to call me by a nickname and I have an important job and I drive an expensive car and I probably fuck my secretary. “ 

It’s not a face you particularly want to look at. Except maybe if you’re said secretary. 

A family of 3 sits by the end of the row. They seem — at peace. And for a moment I wish I could be them. I guess it’s different being stuck if you’re stuck with the people you love. 

It makes me bitter to think about it so I avert my eyes and let them travel down the other side of rows. Which turns out to be no better for my mental state because there’s a couple there and they do not seem to care that an airport terminal is not the ideal place for some serious tongue action.

Across from them sits a guy, he’s got a mean mullet. Strands and strands of golden curls. He’s wearing a leather jacket and big black boots and there’s a deep scowl permanently edged onto his face. If he’s aiming for the whole bad boy vibe, he’s really nailing it. 

I can see him shaking his head, as he too notices the couple getting awfully touchy, and I can’t suppress a laugh.

He notices and he looks at me and even across two whole rows of plastic seats I can see just how gorgeously blue his eyes are. 

He doesn’t laugh or smirk or does anything to give me any indication of his feelings. Maybe I’m grateful for it. Maybe I wish he would. It would be quite nice to make a connection with someone right now. Just to make being alone feel a little less lonely.

“ the snow's comin' down

(Christmas) I'm watchin' it fall

(Christmas) lots of people around

(Christmas) baby, please come home”

It’s quite ironic, really,that they would chose this damn song. Of all the Christmas songs in all of the world. 

Mullet boy seems to be a kindred spirit in this regard, I can see him sigh and murmur a “for fucks sake” into to collar of his jacket, as he sinks deeper into the chair.

“They’re singing deck the halls, but it’s not like Christmas at all. “ 

Yeah it really fucking isn’t. 

A smacking of lips catches my attention and I focus back on the couple just to witness the guy’s hand travel straight under the sweater of his girlfriend. It’s a sight I don’t particularly want to see. 

A sight that apparently makes my face screw up in aversion. And as it does, old blue eyes looks back at me and this time, I see a smirk. It vanishes as quickly as it appeared but I know for a fact that it was there. Maybe I don’t have to be all that lonely after all.

I close the bruised and battered orange book that, at this point, is hardly orange anymore, and place it in my backpack. If my life was a John Hughes movie or maybe any other romantic comedy, I’d get off my seat and walk over. There’d be some cheesy some playing in the background, maybe by the Smiths. I would throw him a smile and he’d look at me, an angel’s choir singing wonderous melodies. And tonight would change both our lives forever.

Alas my life is not a movie that Morrissey wrote any songs about. I am a coward and my heart already lies in several little pieces at my feet. So I don’t walk over just like that with no idea what to say, no incentive.

Instead I grab my backpack and walk past him, down a long corridor and end up at a vending machine that sells both, coffee and soup and I secretly pray that they don't come from the same jet. 

The last coffee I had, I think as the warm liquid fills the paper cup, I bought at the little cart by Kelvin’s dorm room. It was a good coffee, had Hazelnut sirup in it. I remember the warmth of it in my hand. I remember the taste on my tongue. I vividly remember the sound of the cup hitting the floor and the stains on my pants and the feeling of my heart as it broke in two.

I don’t want to remember that though, so I will myself to ignore it. To push the thoughts away. I fill the second cup, grab it, put lids on them and then carry them back towards the row of seats.

Mullet boy doesn’t as much as glance at me as I drop down in the seat next to him. Only shows me that he notices me as I hold one of the coffee cups out to him.

“ Sorry it’s not booze. I know that would make looking at these two a little more entertaining. “ 

For a second he just looks at me in confusion, contemplates whether or not to trust me. In the end he takes the drink so I take that for a good sign.

“ Thanks. “ 

His voice is deep and raspy and I really really like the way it sounds. 

“ I wonder if they even realize there’s other people around “ I say, watching the dude’s hand travel down the girls back, as they dreamily blink at each other like the main characters on a romance novel. Maybe those two get the romance and the the Smith song in the background. Maybe I’m just a sad side character in their story.

Mullet boy scoffs, takes a sip of coffee then speaks up. “ Don’t even think they’d notice if we joined in “.

He smirks at that. There’s an absolute underappreciation for people who laugh at their own jokes. I think it’s charming, endearing even. If you can’t laugh at your own joke, how do you expect anyone else to do it.

“ Least they’re not alone on Christmas fucking eve “ 

I don’t know why I say it. I don’t necessarily want to share my sob story. Sometimes my words just move faster than my head does.

“ Christmas is overrated anyway “ blue eyes says and shrugs his shoulders in a way that’s supposed to look casual. Only you can’t say shit like “Christmas is overrated” and be casual about it. There’s always more to a statement like that.

“ You think ? “ 

“ I know. “

“ How come ? “ 

He turns to face me and raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow. It’s like he’s straight from the cover of one of my mom’s romance novels. I think it’s quite unfair that he gets to look like this on a day like today and I — I look just the way I feel. Sad. Exhausted. 

“ It’s none of your business. “ 

“ Oh geez, and here I was thinking we were bonding over our shared distaste for PDA. Guess not. “ 

“ You guessed right. “ 

For a moment, we fall into silence as another song plays over the stereo that has entirely too many obnoxious jingle bells in the backing track. For a moment I feel very lonely again.

It’s then, that the universe seems to have pity on me. It sends me a sign. A gift. A little Christmas miracle if you will.

That comes in the form of the couple getting more touchy, more — obnoxious. So obnoxious that the girl leans back, presumably to lay on the seats, only that’s not what happens. It seems to happen in slow motion when really it’s probably only the blink of an eye. She leans back and back and back and suddenly tumbles off the seats and onto the cold linoleum floor, her mister holding onto her so tightly, he falls right down with her.

My mama always told me not to laugh at other people’s misfortune. But at 18 years of age, I feel it’s time to break some rules my mama set. And this is one of them.

I can’t help it. I laugh. It comes from the deepest corner of my belly and fills my entire being. Then I catch those gorgeous blue eyes looking at my and I notice he’s laughing too. A hearty laugh. I think it’s a good one. No halfway laugh. No bullshitting. It’s a proper laugh and, as we lock eyes, our laughter only seems to increase.

The magic bubble that, until now, has surrounded the couple, seems to have been popped. It’s vanished. For them at least. Because as our laughter rings in unison, a proper harmony of joy, I feel like maybe me and mullet boy have been given a tiny spark of magic ourselves.

“ I’m (Y/N), by the way “ I say, trying to hold in more chuckles.

“ Billy ” 

“ No no, you got it all wrong. His name is Michael and he’s on a business trip that he tells his wife he couldn’t postpone but actually he just wanted to get away from his family for the holidays. “ 

“ Michael ? nah. This dude’s not a Michael. “ 

“ So what’s his name then, Billy ? “ 

He thinks for a moment, face scrunched up in a way that is absolutely adorable. It makes him look way younger than he probably is. Very boy-ish. Very cute.

“ Edward “

“ Edward ? “ 

“ Yes. Look at him, he looks so boring. And can you think of a more boring name than fucking Edward ? “ 

I have to admit, he has a point. So I shrug and nod. “ You have a point. “ 

The little family from earlier, passes us and, as the mom glances towards us, her eye linger on Billy just a moment too long for it to be accidental. And he notices, the cocky bastard. He notices and revels in it, letting the corner of his lips lift up in a teasing smirk.

“ What the fuck was that ? “ I asked, flattened by the sheer audacity for both of them.

“ I got that effect on women of all ages. “ 

“ Wow, your ego is really tiny, huh. “ 

When he looks at me, grin widening and eye filling with mischief, I know I just said the wrong thing. I set myself up with this one, I admit that.

“ That’s the only thing tiny about me. “ 

“ Aaaand that’s my cue to leave. “ I pull myself halfway out of my seat when his arm shoots out and his hand grabs onto mine. The mischief in his eyes in gone, completely replaced by a pure and unfiltered honesty.

“ Stay. Please. “ 

I sink back down and we fall into a silence. He knows that I saw it in his eyes, the fear of being left alone and I know that he knows and so we’re stuck in this weird limbo of whether to ignore it or spill our sorrows to one another. And maybe it’s because today is Christmas and on Christmas you tell the truth, even if it to a stranger at an airport, but he suddenly breaks the silence and starts talking.

“ I don’t wanna be alone. “ 

“ Yeah me neither. “ 

“ I uh — I was supposed to be in California, to visit my mom over Christmas. I haven’t seen her in — in years. This was supposed to be our first Christmas together since I was 8. I called her earlier, from the payphone. I thought she might be devastated. She’s not. I don’t think she cares very much if I’m there or not. I’m still debating whether or not I wanna get on the plane if it ever goes. “ 

“ I came to visit my boyfriend for Christmas. Surprise him, you know. He’s going to college here in Indiana. We’re both from California and we haven’t seen each other since the summer. I thought It was the ultimate proof of my love to him. Well — turns out he’s been fucking his way around campus while I’ve been busy making plans on how to rearrange my life and all my dreams, to come study with him in Indiana after I graduate High School. “

Another silence fills our hearts but this one isn’t thick with anticipation and tension. It’s one that settles deep in our bones as we realize, that sometimes there’s comfort in shared misery. 

“ Merry fucking Christmas to us. “ Billy murmures.

“ Do you wanna go see if we can get a drink at the bar ? “

“ That’s the best idea I’ve heard in a while. “ 

“ I can not believe your fake ID says you’re name’s Ricky Hardman. “ 

“ If you’re mocking me I can just drink this myself, you know. “ 

“ Oh come on. It’s just — that sounds like such a porn name. “ 

“ So what. “ 

I have to snort at his complete lack of self reflection. He knows I’m right but he’s so stubborn. Again I find myself thinking it’s endearing rather than annoying.

To come back to a statement I made earlier, I also think we don’t appreciate the people enough, that make us snort-laugh. Is it a bit embarrassing and cringy? Sure but it’s a laugh either way and I don’t think we should ever take that for granted.

“ Put the cups down so I can spice it up a little bit “ Billy instructs me and I do as he says. This is probably our 4th refill of coffee for the night, my mom would have a go at me for all the caffeine but whatever.

Billy opens the bottle of booze he just purchased at the airport store and pour us both a decent amount into our coffees. Might as well have our own little Christmas celebration if we’re stuck here with nothing else to do.

Cups clutched in our hands we roam around the airport, cheeks warming up from the alcohol. I feel more at peace now and yet my heart is ever as heavy with the longing to be home. 

A sign directs us towards the visitors terrace where families usually gather to watch the planes take off and land. It’s deserted now but that’s not really a surprise. It’s cold, it’s snowing and there’s no flights going anyway. It’s just a dark, snowy night and a lonely runway illuminated by small lights that, if you believe hard enough, almost look like fairy lights in the distance.

“ I know it looks pretty, “ I say as I lean against the banister of the terrace “ but I really don’t find snow all that great.” 

“ I fucking sucks, “ Billy replies. “ It’s cold and wet and turns into gray slosh in the matter of a few minutes. “ 

“ I always dreamed of a white Christmas, now I can’t wait to never see snow again. “ 

“ Me too. I hate it. Snow. Indiana. At least you get to stay in California once you make it there. I have to wait until graduation to finally move back home. “ 

I don’t want to pry, I really don’t but there’s something about him that intrigues me. Everything he says and does in scrowded in some kind of mystery. Some hidden meaning in all of it. 

The way he looks and the way his words hold a certain softness to them, is a whole enigma in itself.

“ You wanna come back to Cali ? “ 

“ Fuck yes. I can’t stay here longer than I need to. I miss the sun and the beach and — my home. “ 

“ Oh god yes, the beach. “ 

“ See, and you wanted to give up on all of that for a guy called Kelvin. “ 

“ I — he’s nice.” 

“ Oh I’m sure he is. And secure and smart. “ 

“ He is. We’ve been together since my sophomore year in Highschool. He was my first — everything. He studies business and is gonna take over his dad’s company one day. “ 

Billy blows a raspberry before turning to me with his perfect eyebrow raised in mockery. 

“ That is so dull. “

“ It’s not “ 

 “ But it is ! Tell me honestly, do you really love this guy or is it just — comfortable. Being with him ? “ 

And once again, something that I’ve considered so many times in my life, suddenly affects me in a completely different way than I am used to. I understand all of a sudden. 

I get it.

“ I mean, maybe you have a point. What makes you the relationship expert though ? “ 

“ Nothing. I’m not saying I am. But I know I never plan on spending my whole life with someone because I am comfortable with them. It’s your goddamn life, you should live it for yourself. “ 

It hits me light a freight train. Straight in the heart. He’s right. Whether I want to admit it or not, Billy is right. I don’t let him know that though, it’s hard enough admitting it to myself. I think he knows anyway, by the way I look at him. By the way he looks at me. 

“ Have you decided whether or not you wanna get on the flight ? “ I ask. It’s still not my place to ask those questions but it feels like something has shifted between us. Like tonight is ours entirely. A night of truths. Of heart opened and unguarded.

“ The alternative is spending Christmas with my dad and his wife and my stepsister. “ 

“ Sounds alright to me. “ 

“ Yeah, only my dad is the biggest asshole on the planet. He’s not a nice guy. His wife is a fucking nutcase, obeying his every will. She has the backbone of a jellyfish. And Max — Max hates me. That one’s my fault though. “ 

I want to hug him. It’s a strong urge that overcomes me. A sudden rush. His words are soft and sad and frustrated and I can see in his eyes just how much this hurts him. And god, it’s Christmas Eve. I just want to make him feel a little less alone.

So I do. I hug him, rest my head on his shoulder and together we look at the snow falling around us, covering the world in a thick white frosty blanket. 

“ I’m sorry about that. Just so you know though, I’m glad we’re stuck here together. “ 

“ Well yeah, I’m hot and fun and I have great hair. “ 

“ Oh there we go again with the ego. “ I laugh. He makes me me laugh. Like genuinely laugh. I can’t remember the last time I felt like this around Kelvin.

“ What’s that book you’ve been reading. “ Billy asks as the laughter settles down again.

“ Catcher in the Rye. It’s one of my favorites. “ 

“ Uh-huh. What’s it about ?” 

“ This boy, Holden. He gets kicked out of prep school and runs of to New York City and yeah it basically chronicles his days in NYC. It’s about loss of innocence and isolation. “ 

“ Sounds absolutely — “ 

“ Wonderful “ 

“ Boring. “ 

Here’s the thing about interests and hobbies. They’re a very personal, very individual experience. They’re yours. And yes, maybe it’s nice to share your passions with another person who feels the same. But let’s be honest: It doesn’t really matter. I am not hurt by Billy’s disinterest. Not even by his mocking scoff. Because it in no way lessens my love for the book. The story it tells and the nostalgia it brings me.

It also doesn’t lessen the affection growing inside me, towards Billy. An affection that both scares and excites me at the same time. By all means, it is delusional to fall for a stranger at an airport, who doesn’t even live in the same state as me. Someone I’ve only spent a few hours with.

Then again, life is never a straight path. I used to think it was but after tonight, maybe I can let myself take some backroads. Take a road less traveled. See where it leads me and if it brings me to a dead end, turn around and try again.

Maybe sometimes it needs a boy with a leather jacket and gorgeous blue eyes, to make you realize that life can be so much more if you just let yourself live it.

“ Okay sure. What are your interests then ? I’m sure there’s something you like doing, something you care about. “ 

“ My car. “ 

“ That’s such a guy answer. “ 

“ Pff, whatever. “ 

“ What else ? “ 

He takes a moment to answer. Contemplates. Mulls his answer over in his head. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes I haven’t seen since he talked about his mom earlier tonight.

“ Music. “ 

“ Music ?” 

“ I really care about music. Not — not playing it but just music in itself. You can’t tell anyone this, okay ? It’s a bit ridiculous and It’s not really realistic, but I would love to work at a record label. Or maybe have my own music venue. To help discover bands and find new, awesome music. Whenever I’m sad or angry or frustrated, or even happy, there’s a specific songs for any emotion, any situation. I want everyone to be able to have that in their life. “ 

There’s something undeniably sexy about someone being passionate about something. He only just started but I could honestly listen to Billy talk about music for hours and hours and hours.

“ So who’s your favorite band then ? “ 

“ I’ll sound pretentious as fuck but my favorites are probably some local bands from my hometown in California. “ 

“ Maybe when you’re back home after graduation, you can take me to a gig. Show me some of those bands. “

My heart beats faster as I realize this is the first time either of us has mentioned there being a future. More than just one magical night at the airport. 

It slipped out but I’m glad it did. The idea of more nights together, more time spent listening to him talk about his music. Experiencing that music with him. It doesn’t scare me. In fact, it excites me so much.

“ Yeah. Sounds like a plan. “ 

“ A good plan. “

“ A great plan. “ 

I don’t know if he notices that I notice, but his hand drops to the small of my back, so gently it’s but a whisper of a touch. It warms me up more than our boozy coffee ever managed to.

Airports have a weird energy. A specific mood that transcends through every corner in every room. It’s loaded with the arrival of change. It might be good and exciting or it might be sad. But something is about to change and you can feel it sizzling in the air.

As I stand next to Billy in the softly falling snow, I know that the girl that arrived at the airport earlier today, heartbroken and without purpose, is not the same girl that’s gonna get on that flight home. Something has changed. I think I like this new girl better.

“ They’re singing deck the halls … “ 

“ Oh Jesus, what is it with this fucking song ? “ 

“ What, you don’t like it ? “ 

“ Do you ? “ 

“ Totally “ 

I don’t know what hits me. Maybe it’s the fact that the future is so awfully unknown. I don’t know if after tonight I will ever see Billy again. Or maybe because it’s Christmas. 

Or maybe because I’m a little drunk and half in love.

But I start to dance and sing along. With the snow falling down on me. Snowflakes dropping onto my hair and melting, leaving it wet and streaky. But it doesn’t matter right then. All that matter is the music and the night and him and I.

“ Come dance with me. “ 

“ I don’t dance. “ 

“ It’s Christmas Eve, Billy. It’s my Christmas wish. Come on. There’s no one around. “ 

Here’s some piece of advice from me to you: If you’ve never had a guy in a leather jacket and biker boots twirl you around while the snow is falling and Christmas songs play over the stereo, then you’re missing out.

Billy’s hand is warm, his smile is gentle. It’s all so vastly different from the way I felt when touching Kelvin. Everything that comes with Billy is an enigma, a surprise. Nothing is certain and yet I am sure that I’ve never felt more alive than I do right now.

The last chord of the song echoes through the night as Billy pulls me close to him, I can see his breath in the cold, accumulating in little clouds. I can feel his skin in mine. 

“ You’re gonna get on that flight, Billy Hargrove. “ I say, my voice but a sigh. A whisper

“ I’m gonna get on the flight. I’m gonna graduate and then come back to California. Permanently this time. I’ll find you and take you to all the underground clubs and show you all my favorite bands. And I’ll even listen to you talk about your books. “ 

“ Even if you think they’re boring. “ 

“ Uh-huh. “ 

“ Hey Billy. “ 

“ Hmm ? “

“ I think I wanna write a book. I think that’s what I want to do with my life. “ 

He’s so close now, our noses touching, our breaths touching, our lips touching. Warm and soft and gentle.

“ Write about us, so you don’t forget me. “ 

I kiss him then. Or he kisses me. I don’t know for sure but really what does it matter. In the grand scheme of things it’s irrelevant who initiated the kiss. It matters that it happened. And by god I will never be able to forget this kiss or the boy that gave it to me. 

“ Dear passengers, we are delighted to announce that the runway has been cleared. The sky is blue and free of any downfall. Flights will resume shortly. More information about departure times will be available shortly. Feel free to turn to our staff for guidance or additional information. 

“ Billy. Hey, Billy. “ I say, and shake him awake. He looks so peaceful and boyish while sleeping, it breaks my heart a little to interrupt his sleep. 

“ Hmm.. ? “ 

“ I think our flights are gonna go soon. Snow’s stopped. “ 

“ Oh. “

I don’t have to ask to know what he’s feeling. What he wants to say. “ Oh. this is it for us. “ 

We gather our stuff, stretch our limbs and get off the uncomfortable plastic seats. The board on the wall shows us that our flights go in just two hours. His to San Diego, mine to LA. 

Our time is numbered and we finally have an expiration date. My heart breaks once again though this time I try to hold onto the fact that we both want a future of whatever it is we’re sharing. Even if it’s just a friendship, I want Billy Hargrove in my life.

“ Hey uh — “ Billy speaks up and takes my hand in his “ let’s make a deal. “ 

“ What deal ? “ 

“ To see each other again. Maybe — maybe next Christmas Eve. “ 

“ Where ? “ 

“ I don’t know. Let me — let me come to you. “

“ Santa Monica pier. “ 

“ Okay sure. “ 

“ Cool. “ 

“ Cool. “ 

He kisses me again and this one too, will stay with me forever. In my heart and in my head.

“ Here I’ll give you my phone number. Call me if anything changes. If my dad answers just ignore his stupid comments “ He says, fumbles around in his backpack and come up with a pen and — a cassette tape ?!

“ Something to remember me by “ he points out as he scribbles his number onto the little slip of paper. “ Some of my favorite songs on there. “ 

“ If you give me something, let me give you something too. “ I say and pull out my old worn out copy of Catcher in the Rye, scribble a message on the first page, then hand it to him.

“ There’s a bunch of notes in the margins. I never got to share them with anyone, I’ll gladly share them with you. “ 

Then I kiss him. Again and again and again, until it’s all I can think about and all I can feel.

“ Flight 207 to LAX boarding now. “ 

And that is it for us, at least for now. The magic of last night is broken. It’s Christmas Eve gone, replaced by Christmas day. No snowstorm. No magic. Just the brutal truth that real life awaits.

So we part. With more kisses and a promise.

“ Until next Christmas. “ 

The plane is already high up in the air when Billy Hargrove pulls the book from his pocket. It’s old and worn out and what looks like it used to be orange once upon a time is now a washed out beige.

He opens it up to the first page and can’t suppress a smile. A real one. Not one of those he fakes for his dad and susann. A real smile that reaches his eyes. One he feels in his heart.

“ Meet me at the Merry-Go-Round! “ 

His heart soars as he thinks about next year. A future that suddenly looks much brighter than ever before. 

There’s a lot of notes and scribbles and highlighted sentences. He skims through it until one passage catches his attention.

“ Make sure you marry someone who laughs at the same things you do. “ 

And so he thinks back to the overly touchy couple and their magnificent tumble from the plastic seats. And he remembers her laugh and his ringing up in unison.

He understands. That Holden guy has a point. Maybe it’s worth reading the book after all.

A year later.

I’m rushing through the crowd of people, a vibrant clementine sky the backdrop for my misery. God, why can I never be on time.

My heart hammers in my chest. Please don’t leave. Please don’t leave.

His eyes meet mine across the way as he leans against the banister by the Merry-Go-Round and I feel like I am back at the airport. The magic is back.

“ Sorry I am late. I am so so sorry.  “  I say and can’t help myself but pull him into a kiss. One filled with passion and longing and a promise kept.

“ Ah If a girl looks swell when she meets you, who gives a damn if she’s late. “ He replies.

“ You read the book. “ 

“ I read the book and all your notes. “ 

“ That’s good, I uh — have something else for you to read. “ 

It’s a bundle of papers, no cover art or fancy pictures on the front page. All it says in big bold letters is “ A white Christmas - a story of girl meets boy. “ I hand it to Billy and he looks at me in confusion.

“What’s that ? “ 

“ That’s the first draft of my book. “ 

“ You wrote it! “ 

“ You believed I could so I did. “ 

“ What’s it about ? “

“ Oh you know, just a girl and a boy and a magical night at the airport. Lots of snow. Lots of kissing. Little bit of magic. “ 

“ Can’t wait to read it. So, you wanna go see a band ? “ 

“ They any good ? “ 

“ Pretty fucking good!” 

Darlene Love’s voice echoes through the stereo and for the first time I have to disagree. This feels like Christmas more than any moment before ever did.

And my baby is finally home.

 Taglist; [I copied this from @mattysheelies​ and just added a few new ones, if you wanna be added or deleted from the taglist please let me know]

@sebastiansloserclub ; @killer-queen-xo ; @william-hargroves ; @billysgodcomplex ; @daisyxbuckley ; @allabouthargrove ; @mcrmarvelloki ; @charmed-asylum ; @1998--js ; @naiomiwinchester​ ; @hargrovesprincess​ ; @mystrangerfics​ ; @teafrompari​ ; @staybruuutal​ ; @colourado​ ; @higher-further-faster-bb​ ; @ayybtch​ ; @carlaangel86​ ; @baebee35​

[threeletterslife]

CHjakldfjskANA I am lowkey embarrassed to say that I am confused by pt 2 of Ignis Fatuus ;-; I get what happens literally, but I'm pretty sure I'm missing out on all of the more underlying messages and what the ending is supposed to represent and what you were intending to convey ;-; I guess I'll just talk about parts that I thiNk I understood and hopefully won't make me sound like an idiot :D I really liked how the endings to both the dream and reality were paralleled,

but houf I was kind of exasperated in the beginning when everyone was dying on the hypothetical trip to the hospital. I always kind of felt like they would just let Y/N die, because logically speaking, even if they ended up at the hospital, none of them are really qualified to treat TSS so they would just be going on a suicide mission because as shown, zombies are e v e r y wh e r e :D So when it was revealed that was only a dream, I was like yAY thank goodness :,,) The part at the end before

Y/N dies when Jungkook corrects her saying “it’s did well and not did good” was a reaLLY nice way to end things though :,) jklsfjkls I don’t know, Chana pls send help+explanations because I’m definitely only understanding the very surface level ideas of Ignis Fatuus D: I think the very vEry ending though is a big part of the whole Ignis Fatuus thing though because back in pt 1 in Target Jungkook was like omg yes don’t worry Y/N things will be over and we’ll definitely be able to play baseball

again without any zombies around, but aaa Chana why are there thRee “endings”,, that’s making me think there’s something very elaborate about how all of the endings could be tied together/are related :,D 🌻 anyways I think? the first part to my ask might've not gone through because it didn't have the "thank you, your ask has been received" message when I clicked ask but o well :,) it was just me lowkey embarrassing myself because I am confused on the ending of Ignis Fatuus :,)

[SPOILER WARNING!]

GOOD NEWS! the first part of your ask WAS received!! and omg yes i totally understand ignis fatuus pt 2 was kinda hectic so lemme just clear up the confusion ✨

i think the whole ignis fatuus stORY is a bit hard to digest. the only ‘realistic’ element in the story is really that the members self-quarantined LOL. other than that, i really took inspiration from the office (though it may not seem like that). jungkook and yn are the only “normal” ones in the group of eight just like jim and pam were the only normal ones in an office full of crackheads LMAO. i just thought it would be cool to tell the story of two normal pple stuck with six other crazies (all equally obsessed with something different. i mean namjoon studying DURING the apocalypse?? seokjin obsessed with the kitchen? hoseok obsessed with his secretary??) and i chose to go for a very subtle romance so it wouldn’t overshadow the other dynamic characters

to elaborate on the endings!

the first one (the one that yn dreams): only in her wildest dreams would the seven men yn’s learned to love and live with DIE to save her. i mean, in a sick, twisted way, isn’t that what so many romance movies depict? the knight sacrifices his life to save his princess. it’s shit that only happens in your head. it’s tragic and stupid, yes, but also honorable in it’s own way. maybe yn subconsciously wanted all seven men to help save her life (even though it wouldn’t logically make sense). but maybe she wanted a knight in shining armor. i mean, isn’t that what media brainwashes women to think? yn’s dream is her subconscious acting up. she’s a helpless woman (sick from a mf bacterial infection that women mostly get) and she must depend on men to save her. but the end of her dream concludes that it’s not a matter of who saves who. some people just can’t be saved. yn doesn’t have a knight in shining armor. even before she got sick, she is a strong, independent woman. jungkook offers her emotional support, but he never outwardly saves her from any disasters. in fact, in part 1, yn is the on who saves jk. maybe, in yn’s subconscious, she wants to be saved. who doesn’t? it’s not a female v. male thing. being saved just means doing less work (and who doesn’t want that?). the savior, on the other hand, must go through the trauma and carry the responsibility of another’s life. maybe that’s why yn had her dream! another, more obvious reason yn’s dream turned out that way may be because that’s her worst fear—watching everyone she cared about die in front of her eyes (but also being too helpless to be able to stop it). she’s also afraid of dying alone, which she did in her dream. you’re absolutely right though! the second part of ignis fatuus is supposed to make you feel exasperated—frustrated and pissed, even. it’s just supposed to be nonsense, honestly. just stupid shit happening in rapid succession. it’s literally a fever dream. and also a dream carefully crafted by yn’s subconscious

a lot of the ‘deeper’ meaning is very subjective, though! and even as the writer, my analysis is still subjective. you can honestly analyze ignis fatuus in so many other ways. no analysis is wrong. and it’s also perfectly fine to have no analysis at all! 

the second ending (with yn actually dying) is easier to explain. it’s a direct contrast from yn’s dream where everyone was trying to be the hero. reality is different. even at the end of part 1, joon and jk knew that they wouldn’t be able to take yn to the hospital. yoongi even knew yn would die. they wouldn’t even think of such an outrageous idea to go to the hospital at all. they may have hinted taking yn to the hospital only to make her feel better, to make her feel safe. but they would’ve never actually done it. the plan was always to let her die in the house (as sad as it sounds). but there was really nothing left to do! as you said, none of them (even joon and tae) is qualified to treat tss (nor do they have the medical equipment to do so). the second ending is more of the closure that the first ending didn’t provide. yn wished to die in jk’s arms in the first ending and she got what she wanted in the second ending. but i still didn’t exactly think ending the story with yn’s death (tWICE) would be the best. something didn’t feel right. so i felt like i had to add the third ending for better closure

and you’re totally right! i connected the third ending to what jk and yn had talked about in target. this is essentially a glimpse of their dreams come true. something that didn’t necessarily happen, but something that the readers can imagine and feel at peace with. i thought it was good to wrap up such a traumatic part 2 with something lighter, something sillier and something happier. ignis fatuus is a mf roller coaster. and the title itself ‘ignis fatuus’ literally means something deceptive/deluding. i think part 2 encompassed that well

as for the purpose of this story? to answer the question you may be having, “if yn died after this whole ass journey,,, what was the mf POINT?” maybe there isn’t a point. maybe there is no rhyme or reason. maybe i just told a story as it is. kind of like a reference to waiting for godot but on the less indifferent side. BUT! i would honestly argue that there IS a point! i think the relationship yn made with the seven very distinct men is special. the seven of them are depictions of very stereotypical men. a nerdy med school student, a grumpy bus driver, an impatient businessman, a spoiled daddy’s money lawyer, a scaredy-cat cop, an obsessive chef and a too-perfect-to-be-true baseball player. i think part 1 is interesting to see how the eight of them have created this synergy together. it’s also interesting to see in part 2 how yn twists the men’s stereotypes to fit in the fever dream narrative

ignis fatuus is one of my more depressing stories. i had the idea since january of 2019 so i spent quite a bit of time thinking about it before i decided to write it. i didn’t think i’d end on a lighter note, but i’m happy it turned out that way. 

aNYWAYS sorry this turned out so long 😭😭😭i guess i rambled too much again oOPS. but i swear you’ll get a break from all this depressing writing LOL. i’m not posting another official story until january 15th! (and GOOD NEWS that story is going to be FLUFF!) 

as usual thank you sm for such a kind message 🥺🥺

[heylookafanfic]

AUTHOR’S NOTE: The reader is college aged, so about 19-26 years old :). I’m also going to try my best with making all my imagines gender neutral! I might accidentally forget in the future so, please don’t hesitate to remind me via inbox! Enjoy!

Pairing: Jim Hopper x Reader,  Robin x Reader

brief summary: You and Hopper are dating but after a conversation with Robin at work, you start to feel a bit insecure bc of the slight age gap in your relationship.

word count: 1,911 words requested: no, this one came to mind warnings: age gap, mention of abuse, mention of anxiety, mention of depression (drinking and smoking as a coping mechanism), but mainly fluff!

You worked at Scoops Ahoy with Steve and Robin as a summer gig. College is expensive and textbooks aren’t going to pay for themselves. You actually enjoyed working in there because it was in the mall which meant after you got off for the night, you got to grab a large piece of gooey pizza from the food court. The absolute highlight of your day.

12:45pm - Lunch time.

Steve offered to stay out front and sell ice cream while you and Robin ate lunch in the food court. You sat down and began eating a bagged lunch that Hop packed you.

“What’s that say? Robin asked

There was a Post-It note taped to the side of your lunch

She pulled it off and mockingly read: "Have a great day pumpkin!”

“Pumpkin???” she chuckled

“What? Your mom doesn’t call you little pet names?” you defensively joked

The note was obviously from Hop but you  quickly played it off like your mom wrote it.

“My mom and I are on a first name basis - the only thing she calls me is Robin” she chuckled

“You should call her Batman so you guys will be Batman and Robin” you laughed

“Yeah, never happen– woah”

Robin looked past you which made you turn around

“What?” you asked

“Tammy Thompson. Floral romper. Next to Taco Bell”

“I see her but, what about her?”

“ ‘Grade school crush’ Tammy Thompson”

“OH” you said as you caught on

“Dude, she got hot! Like, she was always cute in grade school but she’s gorgeous”

“Is she still your type?

"I don’t know. I don’t really have a type Y/N”

“I find that hard to believe. You think Phoebe Cates is– and I quote, ’outrageously hot’ ” you joke

“SHE IS!” Robin laughs

“What about you Y/N? You got a type?”

“Not really. If the right person comes along, then whatever happens, happens” you shrugged

“You liar, I see you hangin’ around that sheriff dude all the time. You can’t tell me you don’t have the hots for him”

“What?! No! Never in a million years. Hopper’s a family friend and only a family friend”

“Are you sure about that because, every time he stops by the shop, I see the way you make googly eyes at him” she said

“Googly eyes? Maybe that’s you making googly eyes at him Robin!” you laughed

“I like girls, remember?” she laughed

“Well, that’s good news because I was about to say, he looks quite a bit older than you” she continued

You continued eating your lunch but still listened to what Robin was saying

“Like, imagine dating some dude old enough to be your dad. Like, he’d hold your hand while you cross the street and he’d read a bedtime story before bed and you gotta get permission to leave the house and think about what it be like having– christ, I’m gonna vomit!” she laughed

You were secretly hurt by what Robin said because little did she know, she was right about you and Hopper except it’s not a crush– you and Jim are going on 8 months in a serious relationship. It all started after fighting off the demidogs with the kids, Jonathan, Nancy, Steve, and Hopper. Jim offered you to stay with him and El until things died down but you declined because you still had college courses to take care of. Although lab experiments are pretty much running rampid through Hawkins, school wasn’t going to close down for a snow day, let alone Demidogs. College was 2 hours away from Hawkins but that never stopped Hop from driving the distance to “check in” on you. Flat tire? Hop was on the way. Need a space heater for your dorm? Hop wouldn’t let you spend a dime on buying one, he’d be on his way with one in the back of the truck and maybe a little homemade meal prepped by yours truly. Basically, he found any excuse to come and see you. After a heart-to-heart one day after ranting about being a bit homesick, he asked you to move in with him and El.

*Flashback*

“You’ll be in Hawkins and even if it means waking up at the crack of dawn to drive you to class, it’ll be worth it.” he said

“Hop, I don’t want to inconvenience you at all. I mean, it’s a 2 hour drive there and back, that’s a lot of gas, you still have to go to work and is El really going to be okay by herself for a few hours?” you questioned

“Gas isn’t a problem, the truck uses it regardless of where I’m going, and yes, El will be perfectly fine. The kid survived this whole time without me and did you forget she has–”

“telekinesis” you both said

After saying your good byes to your dorm mate and packing your things, you were officially a resident of casa de Hopper. He was thrilled that he’d get to see you everyday. Nothing was official yet but he had a hunch that maybe things would move a long a bit. He apologized for not having a room for you but you didn’t mind the little area of the cabin he prepared for you. You had feelings for him from the jump but after seeing him out of uniform and being an amazing dad to El, you were absolutely sold. Being able to see Hop put this whole 'tough guy’ persona away behind closed doors and being vulnerable at times, had you wishing he’d actually ask you out.

One night, you were sitting on the porch, letting the sounds of the surrounding woods serenade you, when he sat beside you. He brought you a coffee and just sat in silence. The way you looked as you admired the stars– you literally had a twinkle in your eye. Taking a deep breath, he went for it. The man just full on let his heart out to you before quickly regretting it. You looked at him and chuckled. In that moment, he was sure he ruined your friendship, you’d want to move out and never speak to him again. You told him that you have the same feelings for him but never had the courage to say anything. He let out a sigh of relief and cracked the biggest smile. Things went quiet again  until he asked if he could kiss you (consent first!). You nodded and you two lovebirds did a passionate but sweet kiss.That smile quickly went away. He pulled back and took a breath. You asked him what was wrong and he simply said

“It’s not right”

“What?”

“Us”

“Huh?”

“Me and you Y/N. I feel like I took advantage of you”

“What?! No, of course not. In what way?” you asked

“You’re in your 20’s, I’m in my 40’s. There’s an age gap”

“Okay– I don’t see how that’s a problem though”

“When everyone sees us, they’re going to think I’m only using you for sex. Come on, you know if a guy my age is with someone your age, there’s obviously something going on there. The younger person is never the 'secretary’ or 'assistant’.” he said

“Hop, are we or are we not 2 consenting adults?”

“Yeah”

“Do we both have honest mutual feelings for each other?”

He nodded his head

“So, what does it matter what everyone else thinks? We’re both happy. I haven’t been truly happy in a while but when you’re around, the world isn’t so bad” you said

He cracked a smile again.

“Listen, if it makes you feel better we don’t have to tell anyone about us. We can tell them when we’re ready. Deal?” you continued

He put his pinky finger out.

“Oh, so we’re pinky promising now?” you chuckled

“I guess you can say we’re getting pretty serious” he laughed

*End of flashback*

7:00pm– Closing Time

Hop pulled up to the front of the mall and waited for you.

7:00 was his favorite time of the day because that meant he got to see his whole world walk out of the doors of the Starcourt Mall every day. He was blasting “You Make My Dreams” by Hall & Oats with the windows rolled up. It was the song to your realationship but, he’d rather be caught dead than be caught listening to Hall & Oats.

You walked through the doors, yanking off your “AHOY” hat when you hear

“Y/N!”

Getting in the car, you plop down in the passenger side and put your seatbelt on.

Usually “You Make My Dreams” would have you dancing in your seat but you were offaly quiet.

“You okay?” he asked as he turn the music down

“Yeah”

“Now, when you say 'yeah’ ,you’re obviously lying. Seriously, is everything okay?”

You sighed

“Remember when we 1st got together, and we talked about our age?”

“Mhm”

“Robin and I were talking and she mentioned how dating a 'guy old enough to be your dad’ is gross.”

“Did you tell her about us?!” he panicked

“No, of course not. She brought age gaps up when we were talking about crushes and I have anxiety over it now. Are we–”

Hop put his finger up to his lip and shh’d you. He knew you overthink too much and that lead to your anxiety triggering. He took your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over yours.

“Y/N, the minute I laid my eyes on you–”

He paused before choking up a bit

“–I felt the same feeling I felt when I first met Diane. After Sarah passed, we divorced and I never thought I’d be happy again. I turned to cigs and alcohol for help but I dug myself deeper in this hole. Meeting Joyce gave me hope, but I saw how happy she was with Bob and– I wanted what she had. Coming home to someone who gives a damn about you every day. All the stress from fighting the demagorgon and being a dad again, I was ready to throw in the towel. Then, I met you. You were so laidback and carefree and had this aura I can’t describe. You always knew how to light up a room. When I got to know you better and you told me about the hell your dad put you and your mom through, I saw how strong you were and I needed that in my life. I needed someone who can keep me grounded when life becomes too much. That was you. You went back to college and I felt my life falling apart again. That’s why I came to see you so much. When you said you wanted to move in, I drove home that night on top of the world. I told El and we drank hot chocolate the whole night as a celebration. You wanna know the best part, that night we started dating was the absolute best night I had in years. I felt like kid again. Like, my playground crush just said yes to swinging together. Y/N, you are the best thing to happen to me in a long time. Like you said, 'what does it matter what everyone else thinks? We’re both happy’. ”

He kissed you and that kiss had to be at least a minute long.

“You feel better?” he chuckled

“No” you said

“Seriously?”

“I’m kidding, yes I feel better” you chuckled

“Good, now let’s go home” he said with a side smile

[ryangha]

sits in your askbox. so. that ending

uh huh. yep. that ending.

what an ending lol. i for one am pretty content with how it ended, even though i hurt a lot little with orca’s death , but then so did the rest of knife. i do agree with the author in a superhero setting they’d set up like that, it was only fair that if baekmorae had to die to make a statement then so did everyone involved (even if medusa was given a choice) and i’d especially rather that than baekmorae having to take out more of spoon. 

but very last chapter yeaaaa, the epilogue, i was happy to see everyone doing well in their own little way. raptor is finally thriving with her mom braid lol and she’s still stuck with haze (who btw i have a preference for his voice in-game) and they’re still taking care of stell lol. also dune quit to become a daycare teacher (it’s what he deserves) and judas still doing his fork thing. guineung still doing secretarial work with the chief nd dana looks like a whole-ass chief with her hair growing out nd im gonna miss seeing her every friday or so aaaaaa.  

but yeah main team the biggest change outta all. hyena is not exactly as terrifying as high school dana but boy do they have their similarities. she didn’t even have to call out a single demon nd hyena can take care of herself perfectly well. and my raven boy. sasa your new fit matches with naga a bit doesn’t it? i think someone said he was constantly by naga’s side and that’s relieving to see that he sticks to his role as the ‘dependent sunbae’ plus naga keeps saying he wants to quit lol. naga our main man... he did wonderfully. 

also gonna at least screenshot to one panel which i think is the prettiest in the epilogue:

lol @ naga and osu breaking the fourth wall, but naga coming out to talk to osu one-on-one means a lot since that means naga continues to take osu’s advice to heart (esp as an adult hero fed up with criminals’ & executives’ shit) and then when naga says he comes out to check out if no.2 comes out like... i like naga but this just makes me super glad he’s our mc since after all that shit of getting caught up with no.2′s guilt for baekmorae, naga still cares about him in a way. actually with the end of this epilogue, naga really cares about being a hero despite complaining the whole time to koran(?) right? not the fact the reputation that comes with being a hero ofc bc he said so himself that his personality doesn’t match this job. but just at the end of the day, naga wants to help people so if he saved someone’s life or helped make it better then that’s what matters to him. i know there’s so much more to it but generally that is what being a hero is to naga nd i respect him for that. 

im gonna miss this webtoon i really am. i was honestly put off by the art style but that comedy really does pull you in and then came out dana nd really the whole cast of spoon plus side characters (even knife at times even tho they got what they had coming to them) so idwtkoh became one of my faves. while i do think there was so much more they could do with it, i’m glad the author decided to end idwtkoh where it ended. they saw their end goal for idwtkoh and they delivered right to it so i’m glad i was here to stick through to a wonderful webtoon :’) please add anything else cause i missed a lot i bet haha. 

[greenhanded-redthumbed]

I Have A Hero Whenever I Need One

Bruce watched his parents die when he was twelve. People said it was a tragedy - and it was. But that doesn’t mean his life was. He had Alfred, a man who cared for him more than any amount of money could compel someone to. Alfred drops him off at school, talks with him over meals and helps out with school projects last minute. Many blood parents of his school-mates do far less. 

It’s under his tutelage Bruce thrives. He teaches him languages, business skills, fighting styles. Everything Alfred learned in the secret service, and anything they can figure out together, they learn.

Bruce grows up loved and happy and successful.

It’s then, after delving deep into his parent’s company he learns of the limits they met - the ones that probably got them killed. A business - even one as large as Wayne Enterprises - can only do so much. They’re bound by laws and codes - ones put there for good reason, but still hindering any efforts to reform the city and take criminals off the streets.

At this point, Bruce only gets the first inklings of what he has to do - that he will need to move out of the public eye and fight Gotham’s crime in an arena outside of his company. He starts to get a reputation, not with the law, but with the papers. He needs Bruce Wayne to be completely open, his life spotlighted so that no one would ever believe he could be planning something more serious. And the best way to get the paper’s attention is a scandal. 

Sex is the easiest avenue, and while its pretty clear to Bruce that its not as enjoyable for him as it is for others - he feels no particular compulsion to seek it out beyond making the gossip pages. He has other things to keep his mind on. (Bruce makes sure none of the girls ever think he’ll love them. It’s just a basic courtesy, but also helps nourish the growth of his bad reputation.)

Wayne Enterprises makes the leap from successful to infallible due to what is arguably the biggest break in Bruce’s business career. He manages to hire the highly sought-after Lucius Fox - colloquially known in the upper-business circles as having the Midas Touch - who can make any business, no matter how small or how deep in remission, a resounding financial success. 

Bruce greets Mr. Fox in his office, eager to see the commerce wizard in person and glean his thoughts. Mr. Fox himself is rather humble looking, a small black man with silver wire-rimmed glasses and short-cropped black hair. He wears a tweed suit and red bow-tie: the kind of outfit one can only picture older British men and professors in. 

Bruce decided it must be the latter as the man said in a strong New Jersey accent, “Good to meet you, Mr Wayne.”

“Good to meet you too, Mr Fox,” Bruce replies as the man settles into the seat on the other side of Bruce’s desk.

“Now, Mr. Wayne,” Lucius starts, “I’m sure you’re aware I’ve got a few job offers at the moment. Why should I pick Wayne Enterprises?”

Bruce cracks a smile, “More than a few probably. And you should pick Wayne Enterprises because we’re doing a lot of good for this city-”

“How?” Lucius interrupts him, and at Bruce’s briefly startled face expands, “I apologise for my abruptness, but if I did detailed research into everyone contacting me at the moment I wouldn’t ever get to the actual interviews. I’ll look at the more intriguing offers in more detail after I’ve heard them out.”

“Seems efficient,” Bruce answers. And he supposes it is the only practical for someone that sought after. He’s reminded exactly how large a juggernaut he has in his office. 

“Well, for the city we have the Wayne scholarships, our homeless hiring initiative and consistent proposals for Gotham’s development to work with the mayor’s office to make the city more prosperous. And of course we offer fair pay and decent hours to all our employees. For you, I have a branch planned where you can head the development and testing of technological products. I’d be loosely supervising, but it would be you leading the team. It comes with a board membership and the salary of one. Any other questions?”

Mr. Fox smiles at his efficiency, “No, I think that’s enough for me to consider. If I need anything, I’ll be in touch.”

Two weeks later, Lucius Fox calls back to accept the offer. The board toasts champagne at the news. 

Mr. Fox and carefully selected staff members move into complex in the warehouse district filled with all the specialist equipment Mr. Fox can think of. It’s at this time Bruce makes a few purchases of his own - its out of his own pocket of course, but it’s a good excuse if anyone asks why a playboy billionaire needs kevlar body armour and workable leather. (Bruce decides not to simply order specialised pieces, but to learn how to make them. He wants to be untraceable.)

Alfred knows everything of course, and while he doesn’t fully understand why Bruce wants to dress up in a suit and fight criminals in person, he does everything he can to support him. (Except allow him to pull more than one-all nighter or skip one too many meals. “It’ll still be there in the morning, Master Bruce. And you’ll work faster if you’re not completely exhausted.”)

Bruce never really finishes the suit, he keeps finding different ways to upgrade it, to make this more pliable or that more sturdy, but he gets the first chance to use it when he hears that a partner in a rival company, Mr. Theodore Lambert, has been stabbed to death. 

It’s the secretaries that know first - it almost always is. There’s about a dozen of them in the Wayne’s main building and each knows at least three others from their many attempts to get their bosses talking at a convenient time. So when Lisa from Apex Chemical Corporation calls Rob from marketing to tell him about Lambert’s death it doesn’t take long for the whole building to know.

 Bruce leaves work early (one of the perks of being his own boss) and stops by the commissioner's office. Gordon’s an old friend, met when he failed to find the man who killed Bruce’s parents. (Bruce has long ago decided not to track him down himself. If he’s a criminal, he’ll come up against him eventually and put him behind bars. Bruce is a man of obsessions, and he doesn’t want to test how thick the line between justice and vengeance really is.) Tragic circumstances, good friend.

“You can’t tell the papers any of this yet,” Gordon says seated behind his desk, “Or god forbid use the information for a business deal. Not only will I stop telling you stuff, I’ll have you in a cell so fast…”

Bruce had ignored the other chairs in the office to sit on the edge of the desk itself. Relaxed, rascally, child-like bordering on disrespectful. It fit his image to any number of outsiders. And Gordon himself simply acted as if he was a slightly adventurous nephew.

The commissioner was an older man, with white hair streaking from his hairline back across his scalp. He wore a scratchy, budget suit and dull green tie, both pressed and clean, as perfectly in order as everything else Gordon did. 

“When have I ever?” Bruce asks innocently, “But in all seriousness, should I be worried about a serial killer targeting big company members?”

He says this with a smile that tells Gordon he’s anything but serious.

“No, you’re safe to live another day,” Gordon acquiesces, “The officers think its Lambert’s son - fingerprints on the knife. He claims different, so I’m having them check out the partners-”

“Crane, Stryker and Rogers,” Bruce remembers aloud. 

“Those are the ones.” There’s an edge to Gordon’s eyes now that Bruce believes are there to warn him against interfering. But the suit in the back of his car out front pushes him in another direction. 

Bruce gets back into the car out front and drives a few blocks away before he turns on his radio. He’s set it up to pick up police transmissions, which was one of the first skills Alfred had taught him. He sits and listens, not knowing if he’ll step in yet. It’ll be his first appearance as the Batman, he needs to keep it as clean-cut and efficient as he can. There’s some general chatter, dispatchers sending cops out for noise complaints and possible robberies. A nice reminder of Gotham’s crime. He doesn’t need to wait long. 

“Dispatch, we have a possible homicide. Send Alvarez out, pretty sure it’s Steven Crane. Looks like it’s part of the Lambert case.”

Bruce is driving  before they finish the report. He knows where each of their offices are, and Rogers is the closest. He parks a block away and considers whether or not to wear the costume. He could simply walk in as Bruce Wayne and inquire about Rogers. It’d cause the least suspicion. But if he walked in on a fight or a crime scene, he wouldn’t be able to step in without giving himself away. And of course, if word got back to Gordon he was here, he could lose the trust of one of his oldest friends and accidental informant. 

It’s that that decides it for him, more than anything. He pulls the suit on in the back of the car, fumbling with the confined space. Bruce supposes he’ll just have to get better at it. 

Rogers has an office in a new office building - glass walls stretching up with nowhere to hide. He could still climb it, but the windows would be sealed all the way up. The easiest way in would be the roof, which meant fourteen storeys would have watched him crawl past, belly bared to all inside. Ground floor, then. But at least he can take a back door. 

Bruce finds it slightly embarrassing, he imagines this must be what it feels like to be a teenager sneaking in drunk hoping not to be caught in a parent’s disapproving stare. He has no personal experience doing this, for a number of reasons. (Apart from the obvious, he tends to avoid drinking to get drunk and Alfred would rather he just uses the front door so he can ensure Bruce is safe. Even as a fully grown adult.)

He makes it up to Rogers’ floor unchallenged, although he does note a security he makes an appearance on. It doesn’t matter to him then, he’s in a mask, and there’s nothing he can do about it. Bruce makes a note to figure something out for next time. (He optimistically assumes there will be a next time.)

The door to Roger’s office is open, and Bruce can see its empty even from the shadowy corner by the door. Roger’s secretary, a tall brown-haired woman with thick black glasses and a stylish crimson shirt, is sitting at her desk in front of the empty office absorbed in her computer. The best source of information - secretaries hear about everything.

He’s standing right in front of her desk before she acknowledges his presence.

“Can I help you?” She asks, eyes raking over his suit with silent judgement.

“I’m looking for Paul Rogers,” Bruce growls out. It’s harsh and grating where his normal voice is warm and playful. Ideally unrecognisable.

“Ok,” she says, now ignoring the screen in front of her, “And you are..?”

Batman. He wants to say it. He’s been planning it since he was fourteen years old and bats were the scariest thing to him. It feels kind of childish, but still scarier than something like institutionalised-prejudice-man or dying-alone-and-being-eaten-by-cats-man. Still, maybe it would be a good idea if he actually solved a case before spreading the name.

“Who I am doesn’t matter,” Bruce continues, “I just need to find Paul Rogers.”

“‘Kay,” she says in bewilderment, “He’s not here. He went to visit a business partner: Alfred Stryker.”

“Thank you,” he says, still growling. Not intimidating, he tells himself immediately. He’ll get the hang of it.

“‘Kay,” the secretary says again, turning back to her screen. He knows by the time he leaves the building secretaries all across the city are getting of the alerts of the strange costumed man looking for Paul Rogers.

He drives to Stryker’s office, cowl down and suit covered by a long coat. His cape is tied around his waist - a part of him thinks its childish, another, smarter part knows it masks some of his body type, movements and hides any special gadgets. If anyone stopped him now, it’d be extremely suspicious. He needs a vehicle, he realises, something that won’t link back to Bruce Wayne so he won’t have to change back and forth. 

Bruce pulls into an alley near Stryker’s office - this one is in a sprawling old building, with cut stone walls and only three storeys, so he doesn’t need to repeat the back stairwell routine. He remembers from his corporate briefings that this is because Stryker likes to keep a personal eye on the manufacturing of Apex’s heavy-duty industrial strength chemicals, primarily used as extreme sterilization or to be watered down to at-home cleaning solutions.

Cowl on, he climbs to the third storey window roughly where he remembers Stryker’s office being. As he jimmies open the lock, he hears voices yelling from the next room. 

“What the hell? What are you doing!” comes the first voice, and despite its panic, Bruce recognises it as Rogers.

“Just shut up,” hisses the second voice. Not Stryker, Bruce notes. 

 He (gracefully) crawls over the window into the deserted room beyond, staggering to his feet and darting into the building’s main corridor. He moves quickly and quietly along it, with all the grace of someone well-practiced in sneaking midnight snacks around an ex-MI6 agent, until he finds the right doorway. He pauses on the threshold and takes in the scene - not panicking, he’s learned, is far more important to remember than most of his learned skills. A second of recon can make or break his success. 

Inside the room, Rogers is taped to a chair, with another burlier man looming over him with more tape and a plastic bag attached to an air hose. Next to them is a canister of helium. 

“It won’t even hurt,” the larger man says, “Way more humane than being stabbed.”

This does not seem to reassure Rogers, who continues to struggle to keep the bag from being placed over his head. Bruce decides this is a good time to step in.

“Get away from Mr Rogers,” he says, crossing the threshold. The big man whirls to face him, abandoning Rogers.

He looks Bruce’s costume up and down, brow furrowing. “You’re that guy,” he says, and Bruce tenses, “The weirdo who was looking for Rogers.”

An assistant then, if he’d already heard about that.

“I’m here!” Rogers helpfully yells from behind the assistant.

Bruce pulls a pair of handcuffs from his belt, “Surrender yourself to the police.”

The assistant looks unconvinced, “I’m not going to hand myself in because some goth vampire dude-”

“Batman,” Bruce interrupts, purely because he would rather not have people call him Goth-vampire-man.

“Whatever,” the man says exasperated and then lunges forwards. Bruce sidesteps, bringing his elbow down hard against the assistant’s back and sending him crashing to the floor. Before he can get his bearings, Bruce has him pinned and is cuffing his hands behind his back. He drags the assistant to a radiator and uses a second pair of cuffs to lock him in place.

Rogers looks on in shock. “Batman,” he says testing it out, “Cool name. I like it. The whole thing: great-”

He’s interrupted by a voice from down the hallway, “Jennings? Is it done?”

Rogers looks over panicked at Bruce. “That’s Stryker,” he whispers frantically, “And it’s not done. I’m not done. Completely not done.”

Bruce raises a hand to quiet him, then slips behind the door. He’s not giving up the element of surprise.

“Jennings?” Stryker’s voice is closer this time, almost right outside. “What’s-”

Bruce can tell the moment Stryker reaches the doorway because he breaks off mid sentence. It’s then that Bruce launches himself at the place he knows Stryker will be standing. Bruce catches a glimpse of him before he makes impact, built more slender than Jennings and eyes wide with surprise. But where Jennings had confidence, Alfred Stryker has wit and wariness and speed. He launches himself down the hall, leaving Bruce clutching at the coat ripped from his shoulders. Bruce curses under his breath, abandoning the coat and racing after Stryker.

The man in question has reached a heavy looking door emblazoned with warning signs with phrases such as ‘Extreme Caution’ and ‘Chemical Storage’. Stryker’s frantically pushing his passcode into a security matrix beside the door and Bruce knows if Stryker gets the door closed behind him he’ll probably get away. 

The door opens and Stryker hurries inside. Bruce slams into the closing door, bracing himself on the carpeted hallway to keep it open. He knows he’s stronger than Stryker, and sure enough the door starts to inch further and further open. 

Stryker must know it too, because he abandons the door, using the Bruce’s stumble as the door unexpectedly gives way to get a headstart along the narrow metal catwalks that hang across this section. Beneath them, Bruce can see large open vats full of steaming liquids that slowly eddy and bubble as they continue mixing. 

The catwalk shakes as the two sprint across it, and a flash of fear runs through Bruce at the thought of it breaking. Who knows what raw chemicals would do to a man?

Stryker seems to be tiring, slowing slightly and failing to pick up speed again after a sudden ninety-degree turn. Bruce runs farther than this on a daily basis and shows absolutely no signs of fatigue. He gains quickly on Stryker until he’s within arms reach. Bruce launches forward grabbing firmly onto Stryker’s shoulder. Still desperate to escape, Stryker jerks violently to the right, hitting the narrow metal railing hard. 

For a moment he flails wildly. Arms in the air. His feet leave the catwalk. The swirling pale green vat beneath them bubbles invitingly.

Then Bruce’s instincts kick in. He grabs Stryker by the arm and pulls him back from the edge. By the time Stryker’s panicked breathing returns to normal, Bruce has already handcuffed both of hands to the railing.

“The police will be here shortly,” Bruce informs him, then heads back the way he came to release Rogers. 

Later that night, Bruce sits beside Alfred on a plush leather couch at Wayne Manor and watches a news report of the mysterious black-clad figure dubbed ‘The Batman’ who foiled a murder attempt. Paul Rogers raves praises for his actions to a reporter. It’s a good first step.

Strangely enough, Bruce isn’t the first person go sneaking through the city in black leather. As he continues his crime-fighting escapades he runs into a kindred spirit - albeit one that’s a little less into the law upholding aspect. 

He first sees the woman scaling up the side of an expensive apartment block. Gotham’s latest luxury living project for millionaires looking to downsize their older relatives. Bruce would usually be inclined to think this is another run-of-the-mill thief with a leather fetish, but the suit’s very similar to his. Ears on the cowl, utility belt - all its missing is a cape. He watches from a neighbouring building as she disables an alarm system and slips in a window - and yes, maybe he could report her, but he’s never seen anyone work with this level of efficiency and he’s new to patrolling rooftops so he’s pretty sure she’d easily outmaneuver him. She sees him as she’s slipping out the window again, probably a few thousand dollars better off than when she entered, and for a moment they both freeze. 

Bruce points to a neighbouring rooftop adjacent to both of them in what he hopes is a nonthreatening manner. I just want to talk, he tries to convey. Whatever he does with his arms somehow communicates enough to convince the woman to move towards the rooftop. Either because she’s curious too or to tell him to leave her the hell alone.

She’s a better climber than he is, he notes. Far more practiced. 

He can see her more clearly when she’s on the rooftop, her cowl covers all her main features and hair like his, and her suit’s clearly hand-stitched. It’s tight too, and Bruce realises that and the lack of cape probably allows her to better squeeze through tiny windows and openings to steal. She’s quite short, with a small build like that of an acrobat and scowling slightly.

“I suppose you’re this new Batman person,” she says by way of introduction.

“And you are?” Bruce asks.

“People call me Catwoman,” she answers, “But you don’t really need to call me anything. Just stay out of my way.”

“I just watched you steal from that apartment right there-”

“Yeah, steal,” she breaks in, “I’m not hurting anyone. The ultra-rich can live without a few pieces of jewellery Surely you’ve got better things to do. I don’t like getting into moral fights, go stop the people from raping and murdering in back-alleys. Then I’ll be able to focus on stealing rather than dropping into fights all the time.”

Bruce really can’t fault her logic too much. She does need to stop stealing stuff eventually, but he can’t stop every crime in the city. He doesn’t get the chance to tell her this though, as she darts off the side of the building and onto a fire-escape Bruce didn’t even know was there. 

An ally, Bruce thinks, albeit a reluctant one. If he ever gets out of his depth, he’s pretty sure this Catwoman would help him against someone truly evil. 

Two weeks later, Bruce hosts a Wayne Enterprises gala at his manor and among the guests he notices a small woman with curly brown hair he doesn’t remember inviting. He watches her as she slips through the crowd in a long purple dress and while he never sees her take anything, when he runs into her conversation partners they’re missing cuff-links and earrings and watches that they’re yet to notice have vanished. 

Bruce waits until she’s alone beside a table stacked with champagne before approaching. 

“Hey,” he says wearing the smile he reserves specifically for these events - it’s not quite the playboy on the front of magazines but also not an expression he’d ever use when it was just him and Alfred.

The woman looks over at him and smiles. It doesn’t show her teeth. Bruce notices her lips are painted the same shade of purple as her dress.

“So,” he continues, “Taking a break from theft?”

She laughs, light and short as if he’s just said something extraordinarily funny, “Theft? Let me guess; I’m stealing hearts.” She’s incredibly charming and for a moment Bruce thinks he might be wrong, and maybe this really isn’t the same woman he met on the roof at night. 

“Perhaps.” He offers her his hand to shake. “I’d stay out of your way,” a flicker of recognition flashes through her eyes, (they’re brown. He didn’t notice that in the dark.) “but I’m the host so I kind of have to greet everyone.”  

“So you’re the Batman,” she says, “Mr Wayne?”

He nods, “And you’re the Catwoman, Ms..?

“Kyle,” she answers, “Selina Kyle. I should probably give this back.” 

Selina hands him his own watch. (He’s suitably impressed.)

They spend the next thirty minutes gossiping about the other guests, with Bruce steering her clear of certain people - the Cobbs, who’ve just had their son die and should really be allowed to grieve, others like him who wear their dead father’s watch on their wrists like a catholic wears a cross - and which people just got found not-guilty of embezzlement on technicalities.

“This has been very educational Mr. Wayne,” she says. 

“Bruce,” he corrects immediately.

“Bruce,” she amends, “But I have to get back to meeting those guests you pointed out.”

She slips away into the crowd and Bruce thinks that maybe Gotham’s new vigilante now has a friend. (He finds Alfred later and tells him to invite one Selina Kyle to all Wayne events henceforth. She may be a thief, but Alfred’s just thrilled he has a friend.)

As Bruce keeps patrolling the city at night, his list of needed gadgets keeps growing. Some of them he and Alfred can figure out together in the old cavern beneath the manor where Bruce stores all of his Batman-related possessions. (Alfred’s setting up a computer system to combine the hacked files of different police departments and emergency services. A sort of overhaul database with all the information stored in one place.) Other things are beyond even them, but Bruce knows exactly where to turn. (At least after extensive background checks and many pros versus cons discussions with Alfred.)

Lucius Fox (graduated MIT, top of his class, wife: Tanya, four children in various stages of schooling) seems to have enjoyed his transition to Wayne Enterprises. The sprawling laboratory is filled with various gadgets and engineers of all kinds flitting from table to table talking of different ideas. 

“Mr Fox,” Bruce greets him, taking a seat opposite the man in his office, “I have another proposition for you.”

Lucius looks at Bruce over his glasses and says, “Go on.”

After a lengthy discussion ends in an optimistic, “I’ll consider it”, Alfred convinces Bruce to take the night off. 

“You’ve made excellent headway, Bruce,” Alfred says. They’ve long forgone the master, “Why not a night to celebrate?”

Bruce gives in, because it’s not just a night off for him, it’s one for Alfred too. And in between late nights preparing the new computer system for the cave and insisting Bruce get more sleep, Alfred’s read raving reviews about one Haly’s Circus that’s travelling around America. Alfred’s always harboured a soft spot for carnivals since his childhood novel heroes all talked about running away to join one.  

Bruce goes with him, with slightly less excitement but a willingness to relax. For the first half it’s as entertaining as Alfred promised, with aerial silks, a strongman, clowns. Then the trapezists are brought on. ‘The Flying Graysons’ the ringleader announces gesturing to a family of three. There’s a man and a woman and a young boy who sports the woman’s dark hair and the man’s bright blue eyes. 

They perform without a net, to raise the stakes. The audience holds its breath and wait to see if they’ll slip up, be off by a few centimetres and be sent plummeting to the floor far below. They don’t miss, they fly from one trapeze to the other with perfect flips that make them look as if they’re flying.

Then something above them snaps and they fall anyway. The man and the woman are both lying on the floor of the ring, limbs at wrong angles while the boy swings above, looking down on them in disbelief. 

It’s a while before someone remembers to convince him to come down. 

Bruce leaves with the rest of the crowd, but he doesn’t sleep at all that night. He keeps picturing the kid hanging onto the trapeze and looking down at the floor. At 3am, he can’t take it anymore and calls Gordon.

“Is it an emergency?” Gordon answers sleepily.

“No,” Bruce says, “It’s about the Haly’s Circus accident.”

“A 3am worthy question?”

Bruce sighs, “I was there, Jim.”

“Oh,” there’s a moment of rustling as Gordon presumably moves to a better location for a serious dead of night phone call, “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Bruce answers him, “Just...what’s going to happen to the kid?”

“The circus can’t provide the right education, financial security or stability to officially adopt him, so he’s being sent to Gotham foster care so they can find him a home.”

Bruce remembers the feeling of not-knowing. But at least he’d had Alfred. This boy has no one. (Bruce asks himself who the greatest hero he knows is. The answer isn’t Batman, or Silena or Fox or Gordon. His biggest hero is Alfred, and he knows right now that the boy from the circus is in exactly the same position he was in. And he needs a hero.)

“I’ll take him.”

[onewaywardwitch]

Just A Typo (6/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Hacker!Reader

Summary: It was a simple challenge between a very competitive group of friends. A challenge that ended very differently than anticipated.

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2275

A/N: I’m so happy to finally get to post this part! I’ve been most excited for this one. Thanks for all the love on the previous parts, enjoy part 6!

If someone had told me a month ago that I'd be spending my days working as the security analyst for Stark Industries and my nights chatting with the Avengers, I'd have asked how much they had to drink. It's amazing how an illegal act can completely turn your life around, and not in the ‘sent to prison’ sense.

Fortunately for me, Wanda took me under her wing. She was determined to have another female presence around in a tower overflowing with testosterone and I wasn’t complaining. I appreciated her company just as much as she did.

Everyone was far more welcoming. Well, almost everyone. Natasha still seemed adamant on ignoring me. But with Sam constantly joking around with me, it was easier to forget about it. I had become a common visitor of the residents upstairs and I loved getting to know their actual personalities rather than the superhero personas the world had grown so used to seeing. Like how Tony won’t speak to anyone before his morning coffee. Or how Bruce has to be brought food throughout the day, or else he would simply forget to eat.

But Bucky remained an enigma that I couldn’t crack.

It wasn’t that we didn’t spend time together. We did. And many times, I enjoyed being near him more than some of the louder Avengers. We were never hanging out alone, though. He was a lot quieter when I was around, but I didn’t take it personally. He was obviously still a bit nervous being around anyone other than his teammates, but I liked to think that I was growing on him. At least he sat down and talked to me with everyone else now, instead of just running out of the room. And I adored having more than just two friends. The top floor had quickly become a second home to me.

~~~~~

I ran my hand through my hair for what felt like the seventh time in five minutes. For some reason, the system I was planning on installing for Stark Industries was not cooperating with me. I was forced to keep changing around the algorithm and every new sequence was rejected, not working in the slightest. It didn’t help that I had already gone through a full pack of Haribo and had none left. Timothy, one of my co-workers with a strange love for the worst movies ever made, kept glancing at me every time I let out a frustrated groan. Whenever he looked over, he opened his mouth as if to ask me something, before closing it again. It didn’t take long for me to snap.

“If you’ve got something to say spit it out. You look like a fish doing that.” I should have felt bad for snapping at him. He was a nice enough person, and I had been informed by the secretary down the hall that he harboured a small crush for me. Unfortunately for him, I was prepared to pick a fight with anyone. He just happened to be on the receiving end of it.

“I, um, I was just wondering if you... if you needed a hand with whatever you're working on?” he asked me, nervously wringing his hands.

I stared blankly at him. My lack of response caused his expression to change from slightly hopeful yet nervous, to absolutely terrified.

Stop it, don’t be a bitch, he’s just being nice. You can do this, politely decline his offer. There's no need to make a scene.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Well, that didn’t work.

“Am I not capable of doing it myself now, huh? I can do it perfectly fine. The system is stupid, that’s all. I don’t need your help because you'll end up pissing me off even more than you already have.”

Wow, ok, enough. Close your mouth. Bite your tongue. Walk away. Do anything other than talking to him.

“And also, you are literally the only person in the world who actually likes ‘Sharknado’.”

Why? Why would you say that? You absolute idiot.

I turned back to the computer that I was incredibly close to smashing as I ignored Tim’s deflated expression. He moved back to continue on with whatever he was working on himself. I typed in new lines of code on my screen, praying that these would work. While I waited for the outcome, I started to feel a bit guilty. I was stressed about my job that I was really desperate not to lose and I was taking it out on whoever was closest to me, which just so happened to be Tim.

“Oh shit!”

The second I turned to apologise, I felt hand on my shoulder, scaring the absolute crap out of me.

“Sorry! I called your name and you didn’t answer. You looked deep in thought,” Bucky said uncertainly. I instantly relaxed in his presence and chuckled.

“It's ok, my fault anyway. I should have been paying attention to what was going on around me. It just gets interesting up here sometimes,” I tapped my head as I spoke.

Great, now he thinks you're a lunatic.

Bucky offered me a small smile, which I had come to expect from him. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Tim. I tried to ignore him. I really did. When he first saw Bucky come over to me his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. That look of awe turned to one of amusement when he saw me make a complete fool out of myself. I stared pointedly at him until he got the message and returned to his computer. Bucky raised his eyebrows at me, and I shook my head in reply.

So much for Tim’s apology.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Um, Tony sent me to get you. He wanted to talk to you about, er… something computer related, I think.”

“He could have called me, you know. You didn’t have to come all the way down here.”

“He wanted me to get you in person. Plus, I had to talk to someone down in communications anyway.”

I nodded and got up to leave with Bucky, completely forgetting about the system that had me wound up only minutes ago.

~~~~~

Why does elevator music always make everything so uncomfortable and awkward? I was desperately searching for a way to fill the silence but for once in my life my mind was blank. I heard Bucky mumble something, seemingly to himself. I brushed it off before he spoke up more confidently.

“I like your jumper.”

I swear, I had never turned red so quickly. It felt like my whole face was on fire. How did everything he say make me feel so giddy?

“Thanks! But it's actually my friend, Angie’s. She left it at my apartment a few days ago and I haven’t had a chance to return it yet. I don’t know why I said that, it's a lie. She forgot it at mine over a year ago and I really like it.” I didn’t think I could blush any harder. I was wrong.

“You're really close with your two friends, huh?” Bucky questioned. I relaxed quickly. I always found it easier to talk about anything that wasn’t about me directly.

“They're complete idiots, but I love them. They're my family. I'd be lost without them. I mean, Becca’s good fun and Angie is our designated babysitter most of the time.”

He let out a low laugh. “I guess I know how she feels. I'm always running around after Steve, trying to make sure he doesn’t get himself killed.”

“Really?”

Bucky also seemed more at ease with the direction the conversation had taken. “It was worse back in the 40’s though. He was picking fights left, right, and centre. There was no super soldier serum to help him back then. He was just a kid with good intentions and twig-like arms.”

The ding of the elevator interrupted our chat. We stepped out, but I paused before we walked any further. Bucky turned to question me, and I stared open-mouthed at him.

“God, I was such a bitch to Tim!” I exclaimed suddenly, Bucky looking at me in surprise. “He was just trying to help me, and I-.“ I couldn’t even finish my sentence as I was overcome by fit of giggles. “I told him that nobody likes ‘Sharknado’ except for him!”

“Shark what?”

“Have you never heard of ‘Sharknado’? We have to watch it! It's a terrible film.”

“If it's so bad why do I have to watch it?”

“Because, it's a good bad movie. You watch it knowing it's going to be terrible and then you just give out about it afterwards. The full 21st century experience,” I explained to a very perplexed superhero. “Let’s go, best not to leave his royal highness waiting.”

~~~~~

Turns out Tony had summoned me to ask a single question about my work, before requesting advice on the nicest cafés in the area to bring Pepper to. We spent nearly an hour arguing over which is nicer, pancakes or waffles. He refused to accept the fact that pancakes are clearly superior and resorted to folding his arms and huffing like a child.

I finally made a move to leave when Tony told me he had some Avengers business to attend to.

“Next time you want a chat,” I said to him as I put on my jacket,” just give me a call. You didn’t need to send poor Bucky all the way down to me. He probably has better things to be doing.”

Tony snorted. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? He volunteered to get you. The second I mentioned I needed to talk to you, he all but ran off to find you.”

I scoffed and chose to ignore what Tony had said. “Bye, Mario!” I yelled back to him, making sure to close the door on his sounds of annoyance.

~~~~~

Some people can sense bad things just before it happens. Hairs standing on the back of your neck, chills down your spine. Some sort of sixth sense, I guess. Unfortunately, I wasn’t one of those people.

I was sitting in my empty, broken bathtub with my laptop, as you do, when I heard the crash. My head shot up immediately, staring at my bathroom door that I had left slightly ajar.

“It's nothing, you're imagining things.” I tried to convince myself I was hearing things until I heard what I assumed was one of my mugs crashing to the ground.

I could feel my heart thumping in my chest, and I willed myself to calm down. Placing my laptop carefully aside as quietly as I possibly could, I crawled out of the bath and creeped my way towards the door.

I peered my head out, nervously chewing on my lower lip. It was only a matter of seconds before I gasped and closed the door in panic. I made sure to do so silently and I held a hand over my mouth to control the ragged breaths that I could no longer control.

With shaking hands, I locked the door and took out my phone that felt stuck in my pocket. My only focus was calling the first person that popped into my head.

“Come on, come on,” I muttered, begging for a small ounce of luck.

“Miss me already?”

I sighed in relief. “Tony, there’re people in my apartment. Can you- can you send someone over please. I'm kind of panicking.”

There was a momentary pause and a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the phone before-

“Y/N listen to me. You need to get out of there right now. We’ll be there as fast as we can. Can you get to your front door?”

“I can’t, they’ll see me.”

“Shit,” I heard Tony breath out. “Alright, odds are they’re looking for your laptop so hang tight, hopefully they won’t be looking for you.

I groaned internally and stared at my laptop that I had forgotten about in the bath. Just my luck.

“Yeah, that’s not going to work. My laptop is with me.”

“You bring your laptop to the bathroom?”

“Some people bring their phones, I bring my laptop. Stop judging me.”

Tony decided to ignore my last comment, instead informing me that they were on their way. He asked if I could still hear the people in my apartment.

“Um, no, I don’t think I- “

The bang on the bathroom door made me jump and I clutched the phone tighter. I covered my mouth with my hand, willing myself to stop shaking. A second bang, and I took a few steps backwards slowly. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the door that I knew wouldn’t withstand much more. It took me a few seconds to realise that Tony had been shouting my name.

“Tony,” I whispered,” please tell me you’re nearby.”

I could hear him talking to someone else, his impatient tone not doing anything to reassure me.

“Still 10 minutes out, kid.”

Before Tony could even finish his sentence, the door came crashing down. I screamed, trying to shield my eyes from the splintered wood.

A man dressed entirely in black tactical gear made a move to grab me, and I dropped my phone in a panic.

“TONY!” I screamed. My attempt to remove myself from his grip was futile. He had grabbed my body and dragged me to where the rest of his team were waiting in my now destroyed kitchen. I was so distracted that I didn’t notice the fist that flew towards my face before everything went black.

Taglist (open):

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[robert-c]

Political Correctness

I saw a poll that said about 52% of us object to some part of what is called “political correctness”, thinking it has gone too far. I guess I would go with the majority, certainly you can find instances where the terminology has gotten silly. But I’m reluctant to interpret that result as support for those people who complain the loudest and longest about it. I think their complaint is different.

Let’s start with the simplest elements. Is anyone (except the extreme fringe) really that put out over not using racial or ethnic slurs? Does anyone we really want to take seriously object to using ‘developmentally challenged’ instead of ‘retard’? At this level, ‘political correctness’ is really little more than common decency and courtesy. Is that something you want to be against? True enough, some folks have gone overboard in coming up with new terms, but I usually hear about them from people who want to ridicule the idea, not from serious originators. In fact, I can’t remember hearing a tortured PC term from any actual advocate; I usually hear it from someone seeking to ridicule these terms. Which makes me wonder if they are real terms, seriously proposed, or something someone wrote speculatively to “fire up” their readership.

Of course, someone is no doubt thinking at this moment, the problem with ‘political correctness’ goes beyond the language – it’s a whole philosophy, a system of belief. The rest of that remark usually includes words like “threat to our…” way of life/values…take your pick.

I’ll agree that political correctness does represent a general set of beliefs. Its critics like to put forward the idea that this belief seeks to stifle other viewpoints. And yet in everyday life I’ve never heard anyone shamed and humiliated for being “politically incorrect” to the same degree as those opposing it tell it, or to the degree they do to themselves when they state something they believe is “not PC”. It’s meant to cast political correctness as some sort of oppressive and controlling ideology.

This is actually quite ironic. There was a time when racial and religious slurs were considered commonplace and people used them without the slightest sense of guilt. They even went so far as to presume that certain races or religions simply were inferior, lacking in some crucial ‘work ethic’ or ‘moral rectitude’. This was the ‘political correctness’ of my youth – a time of separate (but manifestly unequal) facilities for people of color  – a time of the ‘color bar’ in the public buses, behind which anyone who was not white must sit. Anyone who challenged this version of ‘political correctness’ was met with a great deal more social pressure than I’ve ever seen delivered for those opposing today’s version of “PC”. In fact, actual personal violence against those who opposed such segregation, or had the outrageous idea that black people could do white jobs just as well, was a lot more common than even the unfounded rumors from today’s fringe elements claiming persecution by the forces of political correctness.

There is a more important and fundamental difference between these two beliefs. If I had to sum up what ‘political correctness’ means to me I’d say it’s about treating others with respect, regardless of their beliefs, heritage or other circumstances. It would follow that I try not to make assumptions about other’s abilities, honesty, motives etc. based on those factors. That respect would include the idea that they have a right to choose their beliefs and even if I think they are wrong I defend their right to believe as their conscience dictates, all the while I express that I think they are abhorrent. For me it values the individual, because regardless of real or imagined statistics about “those people” it says I should take each person as they come, and not judge them guilty of some crime based on my speculation; just as I would want someone to do for me, rather than assuming I’m this or that just because I’m…<fill in the blank>.

It seems to me that the forces of “anti-political correctness” are the ones actually trying to stifle disagreement. They seem to be the ones who feel that any different idea is somehow a threat to their own, that any disagreement is somehow undermining their values. In my best idea of “PC”, while their bigoted ideas are still horrid, it doesn’t try to legislate them out of existence, only out of public enforcement.

For me this idea of inclusiveness and respect is perfectly in line with the best interpretation of our Constitution. It is also why this isn’t an equal fight between conflicting ideologies. While encouraging acceptance and tolerance, the PC forces aren’t trying to legislate the private beliefs of individuals, or who they invite to their house for dinner; only their public interactions. If you are open for business to the public, then it should be all of the public. It is this very tolerance for differences which will allow the bigots to continue to isolate themselves with friends only of the same race and religion.

In fact, it is the only version of a public “ideology”, if you will, that preserves everyone’s right to believe as they wish. It is the “anti-PC” forces that seek to outlaw, or boycott, or refuse contact with anyone who represents a ‘challenge’ to their ideas. It’s as if they cannot tolerate the idea that someone may be allowed to disagree, and do so publicly. You can see it in the clerk who won’t issue a marriage license to a gay couple because they personally don’t believe it’s right; or the business that doesn’t want to serve gay couples, or people who appear to be Muslim. Very rarely do you see the reverse, but when you do (as when the restaurant refused to serve Mr. Trump’s press secretary) they are quick to label it proof of oppressive attempts at political correctness.

Of course they have to promote it as if they are somehow being oppressed by being exposed to differences. Promoting the idea that this is an either/or sort of choice about which belief system will be the “official” one, is a misstatement of the issue. Claiming a right under your belief to regulate other’s private beliefs is the very core of a tyranny. The anti-PC forces don’t seem to mind a tyranny as long as they are the ones in charge of it.

Just as they mock rebuke themselves more than I’ve ever heard anyone from the “PC side” do, they must also invent causes of action to perpetuate the idea that somehow they and their private ideas are under attack. For example, promoting a law that transgender people must use the bathroom of their biological genitalia – as if the “other side” was trying to promote some sort of “open bathroom” policy. It is pure political theater. Anyone who can reasonably pass for the “appropriate” gender wouldn’t be questioned even today. How would this be enforced? Shall we have TSA type scanners at all bathroom entrances? And who would notice anyway if someone were in a stall?

I am, perhaps, a little naïve. I don’t believe that a large portion of my countrymen are really that narrow minded and intolerant. I certainly don’t want to believe it. I do think that many of them have been misled by hearing a constant drumbeat of the extreme “anti-PC” voices. Whether deliberate and well thought out, or just a “happy” coincidence, the way in which they have presented their case makes it easy to mislead people.

Misleading people is easy when they are at least a little afraid. It doesn’t matter if there is a good reason to be afraid or not – fear seems to drive us away from careful reasoning. And if someone is willing to exaggerate or fabricate, then fear can always be found – at the very least, change is always fearful and the world is always changing. The potential harm that comes from not recognizing the flaws in their presentation of the issue is much greater than you might imagine.

It begins with establishing the idea that there is a “right not to be offended”, and quickly moves to one that suggests there can only be one “culture” or value system in the country. It is the equivalent of establishing a state religion without being quite so obvious as a Constitutional violation, but it would have exactly the same negative results that the Founders sought to avoid by prohibiting the establishment of a state religion.

I’ll return to this idea in later articles, but for now let’s think about how often people you have just met seem to bring up controversial political topics and which side do they usually take. If your experience matches mine, it’s overwhelmingly the right wing – it’s as if they just have to spread their ideas and win over or intimidate others. Understand I don’t approve of random preaching from the left either, but just try to take an objective observation (regardless of your current leanings) as to who brings these topics up in a setting where they have known someone only a short time, if at all. Then if you can still be objective, ask yourself why is it so important for them to be converting others? Are they being prevented from living their life their way, are they being criminalized for being who they are, or for what they believe, for pursuing their own happiness? Or are they trying to say that living their life depends on others not “being in their face” about their differences?

[matrixaffiliate]

Patient

NEW STORY!

(This is the story I previewed here.)  I’m so excited for this story! I’m still in the middle of writing it, but don’t worry - I never abandon a story. I’ll try and get chapters done at least every other week. Enjoy!

FFN and AO3

Ginny never wanted to end up a wedding coordinator, especially when at 35 she hasn’t had her own wedding. But when she loses her big corporate event planning position, she’s more or less forced into the job. It’s not all bad though, Ginny gets to plan Victoire’s wedding, and she’s rather taken with the fiance’s godfather.

Patient

Ginny slid her keys into her bag as she walked into work. She’d just pulled off her biggest event yet, a conference of 5000 people and she had coordinated it all: the expo-center, the hotels, the food, the speakers, the free stuff, all of it. And it had gone off without a hitch. She was looking forward to simply writing up her final review and then getting started on the next event, a much smaller in-house event for the company management.

“Ms. Weasley,” a deadly sweet voice called out as she sat down at her desk. Ginny turned to find a squatted toad in a pink dress suit.

Dolores Umbridge stood directly to her left with what looked like excitement across her normally sour face. “I need a word, in my office.”

She looked at Ginny expectantly as Ginny cautiously stood from her chair; then the toad turned on her heels and practically marched down the hall.

Ginny knew this couldn’t be good, but she couldn’t figure out what it could be about. The conference had gone off perfectly, she’d even come in exactly on budget - no small feat. It hit her when she walked into Dolores’ office and saw the HR representative sitting at the desk.

“You’re firing me?” Ginny could feel her eyes bulging out of their sockets.

“Ginny, it’s nice to see you,” the HR rep that had hired her, Richard if she remembered correctly, stood and held out his hand. Ginny didn’t take it, she just stood, rooted to carpet.

“You’re firing me?” She turned to Dolores who smiled.

“Oh no, but we are dissolving the position of event coordinator. We’ll be moving all of your responsibilities to each department’s secretary.” Dolores practically beamed as she settled in her seat, “Please, sit down.”

Ginny wearily took the empty seat, “What about the corporate wide events?”

“The secretaries will work as a team and split the work,” Richard chimed in.

Ginny almost laughed. That was ridiculous. You couldn’t make these events happen without a main face, someone who all the vendors could come to and know they’d get a direct answer. Event planning wasn’t committee material.

“And,” Dolores pushed a small stack of papers across the desk to Ginny, “we’d like to offer you the opportunity to be the marketing department’s new secretary.”

Ginny glanced at the offer letter and this time she did laugh out loud. “That’s a 30% pay cut.”

“But it’s continued employment,” Richard added hastily.

Ginny took a deep breath and counted to ten, slowly, before speaking. “I’d like be considered a layoff and have my severance package instead.”

The look in Dolores’ eyes told Ginny she’d played right into their hand. Whatever. Fine. It didn’t matter.

“Richard has that paperwork,” Dolores turned to him. “After you sign it all he will escort you to your desk and then out of the building.”

Ginny wasn’t listening. She was focusing on not screaming. She wasn’t going to give the pink toad the satisfaction. She was going to walk out of this damn building with her head held high.

The next ten minutes felt like an out of body experience. Ginny went through the paperwork, signed everything, collected her belongings, and nodded politely to Richard as she handed over her badge. She slid into her car, shut the door, took a deep breath, and then screamed at the top of her lungs.

They’d fired her!

After pulling off the kind of events she was for this stupid company they fired her!

Ginny had been mad before, but this was a whole new level of furious. She needed to get home. She needed to call Luna. And she needed to scream a bit more.

Twenty minutes later, Ginny sat on her sofa, still in her power suit, a carton of ice cream in her hand and Luna offering some comfort on the other side of the sofa.

“I’m so sorry, Ginny.” Luna repeated for the millionth time.

“Thanks,” Ginny sighed and took another bite of ice cream before grabbing her laptop off the table. “I guess I should go update my resume and start applying for a new position.”

“Is event coordinator something most companies hire?” Luna asked as she moved closer to Ginny.

“Depends,” Ginny shrugged. “If they’re big enough and they do events outside the company then usually.”

Luna looked worried as she took in that information, but Ginny tried not to notice. She was going to believe that there was a job out there right now just for her.

It turned out that she should have shared Luna’s concern. Ginny had spent a full month applying and interviewing for corporate event coordinator positions to no avail.

“I don’t know what to do,” Ginny groaned as she sat across from her dad. He’d invited her out to lunch and she ignored how readily she’d agreed to a paid meal, along with the tinge of embarrassment she felt when he handed her two cooler bags full of food her mum had prepared.

“Maybe you need to broaden your search,” her dad furrowed his brow. “Be willing to relocate or switch fields.”

Ginny grimaced at the thought of switching fields. The only other thing that existed for event coordinators outside of corporate was wedding planning.

No, thank you.

Ginny didn’t have anything against weddings, aside from the fact that they were ridiculous and overdone and overpriced and she couldn’t put on the show that every bride was getting her happily ever after day in and day out. Nevermind that Ginny was convinced that she wasn’t going to be getting a wedding of her own. As her mother so frequently put it, “you’re nearly 36, don’t you think it’s time you settled down?” Which translated in Ginny’s mind as “you’re nearly past your prime, find someone before you expire.” But Ginny had no prospects, and no real desire to play the dating game again. She’d played it all through her twenties, and she was tired of it. So Ginny had accepted that she was probably just going to be single and put a lot of effort into being a good aunt and daughter and friend and person.

“I know you don’t like the idea of moving,” Arthur patted her hand, “but sometimes we have to roll with the punches. Life has a way of leading us in the right direction if we’re doing our best to be decent human beings.”

The conversation moved on from there but Ginny couldn’t keep from fretting. She was starting to dig into her savings. Her severance was one week of pay for every year she’d worked at the company. Her four years of working there gave her one month’s pay and even with cutting back on her expenses, she knew that her savings wouldn’t last forever.

Ginny walked to her car after bidding her dad goodbye and felt trapped in her situation. She was overqualified for any store attendant position and specialized enough that standard marketing positions preferred other applicants over her. She was running out of options almost as fast as she was running out of money. Ginny was pulled from her melancholy thoughts by her phone buzzing. It was an email from someone who found her on LinkedIn asking if she’d be willing to interview with Wedding Composition to be their newest wedding coordinator.

Ginny stared at the email. She really didn’t want to do this, but she couldn’t see an alternative. Her savings would run out, and that money had originally been for something entirely different than sustaining her through unemployment. She could always interview with them, take the job if offered, and then keep looking for something in corporate. It would at least pay the bills and make it so she wouldn’t need to scrimp after every penny. She would simply jump ship the minute something in corporate came along. Weddings would be easy. No one ever had weddings that compared to the scale of some of the corporate events she pulled off. She would have plenty of time to interview elsewhere. The more she thought about it, the more Ginny thought it was a great idea.

Ginny selected the contact number on her phone and hit the dial option.

Emily McCarthy was exactly what Ginny pictured when she thought of a wedding coordinator. She was bubbly and excited and exuded an optimism that bordered on insanity. But she loved Ginny and was positive that Ginny would love wedding planning so much she’d give up on finding a corporate event coordinator position and stay on forever with her and the rest of the team.

The rest of the team included Josh and Lyndi, both had years of experience in wedding planning. They also were in love with their work and thought they were creating dreams. They echoed Emily’s sentiments that Ginny would lose all desire to work anywhere else after she’d experienced wedding planning. But Ginny really didn’t care, she just was happy to have a job again and a paycheck coming in.

“Congratulations!” Molly beamed at her daughter that Sunday. Bill had complained that the family hadn’t gathered in a few months and Molly had risen to the occasion, inviting everyone home for a full family dinner. Ginny took note that Bill and his family had yet to show up.

“Thanks, Mum,” Ginny smiled, “it’s nice to have a job again.”

“You found a position?” Hermione gave Ginny a hug and shifted baby Rose to one side.

“I found something to get me by for now,” Ginny tickled Rose’s tummy before sighing. “I’m the newest wedding coordinator for Wedding Composition.”

Hermione’s face scrunched in confusion. She knew how much Ginny looked down on wedding planning. But Ginny was saved from having to explain by Bill and his brood filing through the door along with a young man with turquoise blue hair.

“Way to show up, slacker.”

“Be nice,” Molly chided Ginny as she ushered everyone in.

“Excuse me, everyone,” Bill raised his voice, “I’d like to introduce the man who wants to steal my daughter. Ted Lupin, meet the rest of your future family.”

Ginny’s mind quickly processed the words her brother spoke and looked down at her niece’s hand. Sure enough, an engagement ring sparkled in the light. Then the room erupted with cheers and questions and a lot of tears on Molly’s part.

Ginny knew her niece was old enough on paper to get married. She even knew Vic had been dating the same boy for the last three years. But Ginny couldn’t wrap her brain around it. Little Vicky was getting married at just 18? It felt absurd.

But then, it felt nauseating, because her little niece would be married, and Ginny was not. Ginny thought she had come to terms with the idea that she probably wouldn’t marry, but that was before the next generation started marrying. That was before 35 suddenly felt like 70. Ginny was about to excuse herself when her mother added to the anxiety.

“Oh this is perfect! Ginny just took a position as the newest wedding coordinator at Wedding Composition!” Molly turned to Ginny with an excitement in her eyes that Ginny was sure she’d only seen when weddings and babies were being discussed. “Ginny you have to plan Victoire and Ted’s wedding! It would be perfect!”

Ginny forced the panic down and put on a smile, hoping it didn’t look like a grimace. “I’d love to, you’ll be my first clients!”

Bill put his arm around Ginny, “Great, let’s talk budget before Vic gives you her wish list, and Ted can get you in touch with his godfather. He’s offered to help pay for the photographer and the flowers and suits.”

“Godfather?” Ginny repeated, surprised that it wasn’t his parents offering to help pay.

Ted shrugged, “He’s the only family I’ve got.”

The next day was Ginny’s official first day at work, but it really was just going to be a continuation of the previous evening. After laying out the budget with Bill she had spent the following three hours trying to go over wedding details with Vic. It was useless though because every female family member had to have her say about what would make the wedding perfect. Ginny had figured out pretty quick she wasn’t going to get very far and just let everyone talk at Vic and Ted. This morning she was going to be able to actually begin planning things out with her niece and soon to be nephew, along with the godfather who was coming to give her his budget figures.

She sighed as she opened her calendar on her tablet, so much for being able to jump ship the minute she found another job. Now she was stuck coordinating weddings until Vic was married. The next ten months were going to be very long months. Oh well. She pulled out the white binder with gold lace applique printed on it and Vic and Ted’s names printed on a sticker and placed on the binding. Emily had handed it to Ginny when she told Emily that her first client would be Vic. Emily had been ecstatic at the news and insisted that Ginny give Vic and Ted the family discount, something Bill was very happy about when Ginny called to tell him. Ginny flipped through the binder making sure she had filled in everything that she already knew the answers to. It wasn’t too different from her corporate event planning. Instead of branding it was wedding colors. Instead of the presentation it was the wedding ceremony. But the venue was still there and the catering and the lodging. There was just the addition of things like wedding dress shopping, and suits, and bridesmaid dresses, and flower bouquets, and photographers that she hadn’t done before.

“Aunt Ginny?”

Ginny looked up to find Vic and Ted standing at the entrance to her office.

“Thanks again for doing this, Ginny, Vic is so excited I think she’s going to explode.” Ted put a comfortable arm around Vic’s waist and kissed her temple. Ginny smiled, Vic had found a good one.

“Come on in and have a seat,” Ginny rose and gave Vic a hug. It still seemed surreal that little Vicky was old enough to be getting married. They were so young. Ginny was in her mid-thirties and she still felt clueless half the time. Yet here were these babies asking her to help them have the wedding of their dreams.

“I thought your godfather was going to be here,” Ginny turned to Ted as they all sat down.

“He’s on his way,” Ted nodded, “he got a little hung up.”

“No matter,” Ginny waved it away. “Let’s start with the important stuff, and contrary to what everyone at the Burrow told you, that is not the colors or the dress or any of that. I first need to know the number of people you’re going to have at the wedding ceremony and the reception.”

“Oh,” Vic’s cheeks blushed and she looked down at her hand intertwined with Ted’s. “I hadn’t thought about that part actually.”

Ginny sighed. Obviously brides weren’t nearly as organized as most of her previous managers.

“As practical as that is,” a voice sounded from the door, “doesn’t that take some of the fun out of the first meeting with your wedding coordinator?”

Ginny looked up at her door to see a very attractive man with dark hair that fell in every direction and green, green eyes behind a pair of dark framed glasses.

“Harry!” Ted jumped up and gave the man a hug.

“Sorry I’m late, Teddy,” Harry shook his head as he pulled away.

“It’s fine, really, we understand.” Ted turned to Ginny, “Harry, this is Vic’s aunt and our wedding coordinator, Ginny Weasley. Ginny, this is my godfather, Harry Potter.”

“Pleasure,” Harry shook her proffered hand, and Ginny had to pull every trick in the book to maintain her cool. Harry’s eyes bore into her and his smile was captivating. But she didn’t particularly like being called out on her growing pains when it came to transitioning from corporate events to weddings.

“We don’t want to take up too much of your time, Mr. Potter, so let’s go ahead and talk about what you would like to add to the couple’s budget and then you can head back to work.”

“Harry, please,” he pulled a chair up next to Ted. “And I’ve taken the rest of the day off to help with this and everything else Teddy has planned today.”

“Right,” Ginny took a deep breath. She had dealt with Umbridge every day for four years, surely she could handle a sassy, good looking man with minimal issue.

Harry gave her the number and as she wrote it down in the binder he cleared his throat.

“There’s one thing though, I’m sure Teddy would have brought it up when you came to it, but we want to make it clear that there will be no alcohol at the reception.”

Ginny looked up confused. “What?”

Harry looked at her intently. “There will be no alcohol served or available or smuggled in.”

Ginny turned to look at the couple who nodded at her solemnly.

“Er, alright,” she grabbed her red pen and made a note on the catering page. She wasn’t sure what the aversion to alcohol was all about, but obviously the couple agreed which was all that mattered really. “Any other unusual requests?”

Harry flashed her a grin, “Not at the moment.”

Ginny shook her head and tried to hide the smile that was pulling on her lips. This man was ridiculous.

With a little help from Harry and herself, they were able to nail down a good estimate for the number of people to be at the ceremony and the reception. Next Ginny brought up the venue and she watched as Vic heaved a sigh. Ginny felt bad, really she did, but this was the right way to plan out an event. They’d get to colors and dresses and cakes when the big priced items were taken care of and they knew how much money was left after that.

“You know,” Harry stretched, “I could really do with a tea or something. How about we move this little meeting to the cafe down the street?”

“We have a little reception room down the hall that has a kitchenette with tea and water and sodas.” Ginny shook her head. Emily had told her to use the formal reception room for Vic, but Ginny found the room to be over the top. She had decided her office was a much more practical place to meet with her clients.

“Lead on, Ms. Weasley,” Harry stood and gestured out the door.

Ginny grabbed her tablet and the binder and her pens and everything else she thought she’d need before leading her little group into the formal reception room.

The room had cream colored couches and chairs with antique white coffee and side tables. The counter for the kitchenette was white marble and the faucet and handles for the cabinets were gold colored and polished to shine. The walls had large blown up images of smiling brides in beautiful wedding dresses surrounded by flowers and delicate decor. Ginny felt like it was trying to hard. But as she led the little group into the room, she heard Vic gasp and turned to see her niece gripping Ted’s arm with the biggest smile she’d seen on her face since the big family dinner the night before.

“This is beautiful!”

Ginny stared at Vic. Apparently being a French woman’s daughter gave you a severe romantic streak? She turned when she heard water running as Harry filled the electric kettle. He winked at her before he began rummaging through the cabinets looking for tea. Then he opened the mini-fridge and scowled before shaking his head. He reached in and pulled out a Diet Coke.

“Here Teddy,” he handed it over to Ted who grinned and thanked him.

Ginny joined Harry in rummaging through the cabinets for cups and tea and biscuits. As the kettle clicked, Harry leaned closer to her to whisper.

“I’m not about to tell you how to do your job, but your poor niece is looking like you just took her childhood dream and made it a conference room training. So maybe let her have some of the fairytale back.” He poured the cream into Vic’s tea before turning to carry it to her.

Ginny stared at the space he’d just vacated. Who the hell did this guy think he was? She turned her head to glare at him, but she caught a glimpse of Vic and paused. Vic was smiling like the whole world was right. She looked excited and like she couldn’t wait for the day she’d become Mrs. Edward Lupin. Ginny sighed. She absolutely hated being wrong. But she loved Vic. Vic was the little girl who made her an aunt. Vic was the little girl that she took to parks and played tea party with. She was who Vic stayed with when Fleur went into labor with Dominique. Vic was something special and Ginny grudgingly admitted that Harry was right, she deserved the fairytale.

“Now then,” Ginny sat down across from Victoire, “why don’t you tell me what you want your wedding to look like?”

Vic’s eyes lit up like Ginny had just offered her chocolate cake. She proceeded into a monologue of everything she’d dreamed her wedding would be. She wanted the main color to be the same color turquoise as Ted’s hair, accented with silver and white and black. She wanted it to be elegant. She wanted a roses and orchids. She wanted a proper tea instead of a cocktail hour while photographs of the family were being taken after the ceremony. She went on about her dress and the bridesmaids dresses and the way she wanted the venue decorated, how the cake would look, what food they’d have, the music that would play.

And as Vic shared her dreams for her wedding, Ginny just sat and listened. She remembered being young and in love. She remembered what she’d imagined a wedding for herself would have been like. She remembered it had never included the logistics. And finally it hit her. A wedding coordinator existed to keep the magic of the wedding alive, while making sure the logistics went smoothly. An event coordinator had to prove that they had the logistics under control, keep them out in front for their manager to see it was going exactly how they expected it would and was within budget. Ginny realized she’d been trying to be an event coordinator with Vic’s wedding, and she’d been killing the magic.

Ginny glanced at Harry as Vic continued, and found him watching her intently. He nodded once when she caught his eye, and Ginny felt like he could see right through her. She didn’t particularly care for that feeling, but she pushed it away and turned back to Vic as the girl seemed to be winding down on her monologue.

“What do you think?” Vic looked at Ginny with hopeful eyes as she nervously pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

Ginny moved quickly to wrap her niece in her arms. “It sounds perfect, Vicky.”

They spent the next half hour filling in exactly what the first page of the binder Emily gave Ginny said to decide: date, colors, aesthetic, theme if any, flowers, ceremony desires, location desires, and number of guests. The bottom of that page had a space for the next appointment to be filled in. Ginny stared at it a moment before deciding to trust it. She set up their next meeting and walked the trio back to the front of the little shop.

“Thank you, Aunt Ginny!” Vic hugged her tight. “I’m so excited!”

Ginny held this precious girl in her arms for a long moment and smiled at Ted and Harry. “I’m going to make sure this is as perfect as I can make it for you, Vic.”

Harry winked at her as he pulled the engaged couple out the door. “We’ll see you at the next meeting.”

It wasn’t until she stepped back into her office that Ginny realized what he’d said. Did Harry really think it necessary to come to every meeting? There must have been a miscommunication somewhere along the line because for the most part she would only need Vic and Ted. Wedding dress shopping would of course include more people, as would the selection of suits, but that was it. It wasn’t worth fretting over though, because Ginny had a lot of research to do. Vic wanted her dream wedding, and Ginny was going to make sure that all the money Bill and Harry were putting towards it would stretch as far as she could make it.

She was deep in her figuring of numbers to determine how much the kind of dress Vic wanted would cost in comparison to venues and flowers and cake and catering when Emily knocked on her door.

“Wow,” Emily looked at the spreadsheets across Ginny’s monitors and the number of browser tabs open both on her computer and the one she could see on the tablet. Ginny’s notebook was open as well, notes scribbled across both pages. “I knew you were good, but this is incredibly thorough, Ginny.”

Ginny smiled, “She is my niece after all.”

Emily slid into a chair on the other side of Ginny’s desk. “What exactly are you doing?”

“I’m making sure she can have everything she wants,” Ginny pasted another link into her spreadsheet and entered in another price point, watching the figures update.

“We have the vendors that we normally work with,” Emily reminded her.

“Of course,” Ginny nodded, “and I have all of their information in my spreadsheets as well, but I want to make sure that her budget stretches as far as I can make it. My brother and her fiance’s godfather are both putting money in but it’s still a limited budget.”

“His parents aren’t contributing?” Emily asked with a furrowed brow.

“He told me his godfather was the only family he had.”

Emily’s eyes immediately filled with tears. “Well thank goodness that he has someone!”

Ginny smiled. Harry Potter was a sassy and pretentious someone, but yes, he was someone.

“Well, I wanted to tell you that I have another couple that I’ll be assigning to you. I’ve scheduled their first meeting to be a week from today. We like to do those introductory meetings on Mondays here whenever possible.” Emily handed her another binder, just like the one she had for Vic and Ted. This time, however, Emily had filled in the names and phone numbers.

“Do they have a budget?” Ginny asked, noticing that space was left blank.

Emily chuckled. “Kathleen Hawthorne’s father is quite wealthy. He’s planning on simply selling off a property to pay for his daughter’s wedding.”

Ginny’s mouth dropped. “You’re giving me a rich client?”

“Of course, you’re my most thorough coordinator and I actually think that is going to make Mr. Hawthorne much more likely to broadcast around to his friends that Wedding Composition is the best place for even the aristocracy to bring their daughters.”

“That’s a pretty tall order,” Ginny smiled, “but I’ll do my best.”

“I know you will. Let me know if you need anything.” Emily stood up to leave before turning. “Oh, how did your niece like the reception room?”

Ginny smiled, “It took her breath away.”

“That’s the goal,” she chuckled, “before you leave today, remember to restock what you used. I noticed you already put the cups and saucers in the dishwasher, thank you for that.”

Ginny nodded as Emily walked out to prepare for her next meeting.

Ginny spent the entire day doing research for Vic’s wedding, determined to find the best prices on everything. It felt good to be working and it felt good to be doing the part of her job she liked best. Sorting through all her vendor options, pitting their best prices against each other and sweet talking her way into deals. She loved seeing an event go off perfectly, but she lived for putting it all together so that she could be confident that nothing could go so wrong at the event that it couldn’t be saved.

Before heading home for the day, Ginny pulled a Diet Coke from the stock room and walked it into the reception room. She slid it into the fridge but stopped a moment when she saw what was sitting next to the assortment of sodas. Bottles of champagne sat ready to open and serve to the clients. She’d need to remember that for when Kathleen Hawthorne and Travis Schultz came in next week. That would probably be exactly what big money like that would want. Ginny put a note in her phone to pick up some fruit and scones on her way in that day as well.

But before she could meet her expensive taste clients, she had to find Vic a venue to get married in.

“I have five places to look at today, but if you don’t feel like any of them are right we can look at a few more. These are just the ones I think you’ll fall in love with.” Ginny smiled at Vic who sat in the front seat of her car with her, nearly bouncing with excitement. Ted and Harry sat in the back. She’d have to remember to tell Harry that he didn’t need to keep taking work off for this, she’d let Ted know if he needed to be there or not. Ginny glanced back in the rearview mirror and accidentally caught Harry’s eye. He winked at her before looking back out his window.

Ginny tried to ignore the way the blood rushed to her ears.

Thankfully she was pulling up to the first reception hall.

The place was very modern. Clean lines everywhere and gold and silver finishes. The floors were polished black granite and every table had a white marble top. Ginny heard Vic’s breath catch as they walked in and she grinned. But as they went through the tour, Ginny could see that while this had the elegance Vic had wanted, it was a bit too much for her.

“We have the exact date of your wedding open as well,” the host spoke to Vic as she continued to tell her how they could make this facility into her dream.

“Vic,” Ginny stepped between the host and her niece, “remember I have four other facilities for you to look at. You don’t have to pick right now.”

Vic smiled in relief, “Let’s go look at the other places, I want to know what all my options are.” The poor girl grabbed Teddy’s hand and practically bolted for the door. Ginny chuckled before thanking the host and arranging to bring her next clients through as well. This hall looked like the kind of thing they might just eat up.

“Remember, Vic,” Ginny said as she drove the to the next hall, “you aren’t required to give them an answer at all. I can call them and get everything set up after you’re back at home. We’ll have meetings to make sure it’s exactly what you want, so don’t let them pressure you into making decisions before you’re ready.”

“It’s your day,” Harry added, “and we’re all just here to make sure you love it.”

Ginny looked at Harry in her rearview mirror and he winked at her again. Ginny immediately looked back at the road. Why did this man have to be so, so, so, whatever, it didn’t matter. She’d let him know he didn’t need to be around for these things and then she wouldn’t see him again aside from suits and the wedding day.

Vic went through the next two venues with a bit more confidence, but the fourth venue had her staring out the window while everyone else filed out of the car.

“It looks even better out of the car, love.” Ted opened her door and offered his hand. Vic took it and slowly stepped out.

“Oh my,” she breathed.

The venue was an old converted manor house that had a very French chateaux feel. The gardens were the definition of a fairytale, even with it being late August. Roses, lilies, and freesias of every color were slowly fading but covered the beds around the house with sweet peas intermixed throughout. Greenery and trees brought an elegant balance to the whimsical colors. The entire picture was everything that Vic had described and Ginny had been the beyond excited to show it to her.

“Wait till you see inside,” Ginny beckoned Vic forward.

Ted gave her a gentle tug and Vic walked slowly, looking for all the world like she’d just walked through the gateway into Narnia.

Sara, the owner of the manor house turned chateaux reception hall, met them at the door. She showed them around the hall then the gardens. Sara painted the picture of a garden ceremony as the sun began to set. She showed where the tea would be held in the smaller hall on one end of the home, and how the reception could be either out in the gardens or in the larger hall off the main entrance. Sara even knew where the perfect place to take photographs would be and offered to speak with the photographer before the wedding so Vic would have the perfect pictures of her amazing day.

Ginny let a smug smile touch her lips as she watched her niece. This was the place, and Sara had just sealed the deal by inviting Vic and Ted to take some time to walk around and picture it for themselves.

“Why did you save this one for last?”

Ginny jumped as she realized that Harry had snuck up next to her.

“It isn’t last,” Ginny chuckled, “there’s still one more. We hit them in the order of closest to the office first.”

“But you knew she’d pick this one,” Harry stepped closer to her and Ginny felt her heart rate increase.

“I suspected she would, but I didn’t know.”

Harry gave a quiet laugh that was more of a rumble in his chest and that did things to Ginny that she hadn’t experienced in ages. “What did you do before becoming a wedding coordinator?”

“How do you know I haven’t always been a wedding coordinator?” Ginny was suddenly weary of where he was pulling that kind of personal information on her.

Harry stared at her a moment before gesturing to the engaged couple walking the gardens hand in hand. “I’m Teddy’s godfather, amazingly enough, and I do tend to talk to him. Vic talks a lot about you too when she’s at ours.”

Ginny felt her neck grow hot and a tinge of embarrassment gripped her stomach. She kept forgetting that Harry was the equivalent of Bill. He certainly didn’t look much older than her, but some people just aged well, and Harry was probably one of them. Ted was a year older than Vic, and so Ginny assumed that Harry must be closer to Bill’s age.

“I suppose that puts us on uneven footing. I know nothing about you, and you already know that this is the first time I’ve coordinated a wedding.”

Harry took another step closer to her, leaving a breath’s distance between them. “I’d be happy to put us on even footing, if that would put you at ease.”

Ginny felt her breath stop. Was he…flirting with her?

It’d been so long since she’d put herself out there that she wasn’t even sure how to respond as Harry stared down at her with those green eyes and messy hair that her fingers itched to touch.

“Aunt Ginny,” Vic apparently decided Ginny didn’t need to respond, and for the briefest moment, Ginny wished her niece would go snog her fiance for the next two or three hours and leave her be.

“Aunt Ginny, this is it!” Vic exclaimed. “This is exactly what I want! I love it, and so does Ted! Can we get it reserved right now?”

Ginny gave herself a mental shake and smiled at Vic, “Absolutely! Let’s go get Sara and we’ll get everything reserved and set for your big day.”

She led them back into the manor house and tried to shake the feeling that Harry was watching her. Instead she discreetly texted Luna and asked if she could stop by after work. She really needed someone to put her head back on straight.

Luna, thankfully, was free and Ginny dropped her crew off at the office where they’d all met up before grabbing takeaway and heading to her best friend.

“I brought your favorite,” Ginny handed the bags over to Luna when she opened her door.

Luna chuckled as she ushered Ginny in, “So what’s the emergency?”

Ginny threw herself onto Luna’s sofa and sighed, “How did you know Rolf was interested in you before you started dating?”

Luna started unloading the food, “He told me he wanted to date me.”

Ginny sighed, why couldn’t everyone be just a bit eccentric like Luna and Rolf? They were relationship goals. So straightforward and to the point with each other, and even with Rolf and Luna going separate expeditions all the time they were probably the tightest couple Ginny had ever laid eyes on.

“Who are you hoping is interested?”

Ginny shook her head, “I don’t know if I even want him to be interested. I haven’t dated since Dean and that was nearly five years ago. I’m just…confused?”

“Confused,” Luna echoed her.

“I guess,” Ginny took a bite of food to buy her some time to think.

“He isn’t a groom, is he?”

Ginny stared at her friend, almost sure she was taking the Mickey.

“He’s Ted’s godfather.”

Luna smiled and Ginny was sure now that she was being teased. Luna loved to tease in her own quiet way, especially if it meant she could tease Ginny. They’d been friends for nearly there decades and the friendly teasing seemed to pull the rug out from Ginny’s anxiety.

“I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I?”

“Only mildly,” Luna assured her with a quiet laugh. Ginny couldn’t help but join in on the laughter, and pretty soon the two friends were in a right fit of giggles on the sofa. It took several minutes before either was able to gain control of themselves.

“Now then,” Luna chuckled as she took hold of her water glass, “why don’t you fill me in on what’s going on like a sane person.”

Ginny stuck her tongue out at Luna. “I told you about Ted’s godfather, Harry, remember? Well he showed up to the venue tours today and he offered to tell me as much about himself as Vic and Ted had told him about me.”

Luna wriggled her eyebrows, “Oooh that sounds so romantic.”

“Luna, please,” Ginny groaned, “I’m trying to figure out what to do!”

“Let the man,” Luna shrugged, “you could do with a night out.”

“He didn’t ask me out for a pint,” Ginny huffed. “I don’t know what he was implying.”

“Stop being thirteen,” Luna stood and started clearing her food. “If you’re interested in the man then let him know. If you’re not, then be professional and don’t pursue him.”

“That’s the problem, I don’t know if I’m interested,” Ginny joined her in clearing their takeaway.

“I can’t help you there,” Luna put a comforting hand on Ginny’s shoulder, “you’re going to need to figure that out for yourself.”

“And that’s the hard part,” Ginny sighed.

Ginny didn’t know what she wanted. She was happy with her life, wasn’t she? She was comfortable being single, at least she thought so. Things didn’t end well with Dean and Ginny had decided she was done playing the field. She didn’t want to try and convince some guy she was worth the time of day. But what did she want? Did she really want to keep coming home to an empty flat? Did she really want to spend the rest of her life single? Or did she really just want to avoid getting burned again?

When Ginny fell into bed that night, she still didn’t know.

After meeting with Kathleen and Travis that Monday, which seemed to go off without a hitch, Ginny decided to see if Vic had time to look at the photographers portfolios with her. They would need to get engagement pictures done just as quickly as possible so they could decide on the invitations.

Vic responded to her text with a phone call.

“Hi Vicky.”

“Hi Aunt Ginny, I got your text and I’m at Ted’s. What do you think of coming over and after we pick a photographer you can stay for dinner?”

Ginny sighed, little Vicky was old enough to be the hostess now, when did that happen?

“That sounds lovely, thank you! Send me the address and I’ll leave here in fifteen minutes.”

Ginny had expected a flat. Ted was nineteen, only a year older than Vic, and she expected him to be living like a nineteen year old, in a flat, in a cheap part of town, with little food on hand. So when the GPS led Ginny out to the suburbs and a small home with a lovely little wrought iron fence and a slightly overgrown front garden, Ginny immediately checked that the addresses were the same. Everything looked to be right, so with a bit of trepidation and a lot of confusion, Ginny approached the front door and rang the bell. Her heart almost stopped when the door opened.

Harry Potter stood looking at her with those stupid green eyes and a sassy grin on his face.

“Oh good, you found it,” He stepped off to the side and motioned for Ginny to come in.

“Er, yes, the GPS led me straight to it.” Ginny’s brain was quickly catching up with what was happening. Ted obviously lived with his godfather. Ginny was going to be having dinner with Vic and Ted…and Harry.

She was pulled from her musings by a soft hand on the small of her back as Harry led her down the hall. The spot on her back where his hand was touching seemed to burn and Ginny tried not to let her labored breathing show. The home was well kept and the smells coming from the kitchen were amazing. She was just about to ask Harry for clarification on what was going on when she heard her name.

“Aunt Ginny!” Vic jumped up from the sofa as Harry led them further into the house.

“You ready to pick out your photographer?” Ginny smiled as she wrapped Vic in a hug. Work, she needed to focus on the wedding and she would be fine. Ginny could have a professional work dinner with her clients. It would be fine.

“I’m so excited!” Vic pulled her down to the sofa.

Yes. Ginny was going to focus on work, and stop imagining that Harry was watching her, because he wasn’t, she was sure he wasn’t.

Ginny pulled her tablet out of her bag along with a couple printed portfolios from photographers that the shop kept on hand. “Ok, let’s start with looking at the photos and then we can talk about which package would be right for you. No sense in paying to have a photographer all day if the wedding and reception will only be a few hours.”

Vic picked up the first portfolio with excitement and put it across her lap and Ted’s. “Wow, do you think I’ll look like that?” Vic pointed to the first image of a bride surrounded by roses.

“You’ll look more beautiful than every single picture here,” Ted kissed her cheek and Ginny smiled as Vic’s cheeks tinged pink.

“You are a flatterer, Edward.”

“And you love it,” Ted chuckled, “besides, I never say anything that isn’t true.”

Ginny remembered a time when she would have scoffed at that sort of exchange between her brothers and their wives. Even as recently as Luna and Rolf had Ginny rolled her eyes at what she considered sappy attempts to be romantic. But something about it being the next generation was different. It was heartwarming to see Vic growing up, to see her find someone who looked at her like she was his whole world, and Ginny couldn’t bring herself to be cynical of any of it.

They sorted through photographers before deciding on the one that Vic liked best and had the best rate. Ginny excused herself to what Harry called his office in order to call and make the arrangements. She was just finishing up, consultation, engagement shoot, and wedding day booked and planned, when Harry stepped in the room.

“Just checking something,” he smiled at her as he slid into his computer chair and began clicking around on his computer.

She should have left; she was already standing, she was finished with the call, she had no reason to still be in his office. But for some reason, Ginny pulled out her tablet out and looked with unseeing eyes at her calendar, alone in a room with Harry Potter.

“Were you able to get the dates for Vic and Teddy?” He slid up next to her and looked over her shoulder at the calendar.

“Yeah,” Ginny bit her lip.

Harry was close, close like he had been when he offered to tell her as much about himself as he knew about her. She chanced to look up at him and found him smiling at her. Ginny felt like she needed to say something, she needed to break this spell he’d cast over her that had somehow rendered her trapped under his gaze. But she couldn’t seem to gain control over her voice or manage to look away. His green eyes held hers and Ginny was rooted to the floor staring up at him with no idea of how to escape, and if she was honest, she didn’t want to escape.

Suddenly, Ginny felt the nearly five years since she’d been this close to a man as keenly as she would have felt five years without ice cream. Had it really been almost five years since she’d kissed anyone? Had she really gone nearly sixty months since she’d been held? How had she managed these roughly seventeen hundred days without really touching another person? There was a part of Ginny’s mind that reminded her that she was happy. She lived a fulfilling life and had wonderful friends and a loving family. But that part of her brain was being drowned out by the part of her that had sprung to life like a phoenix rising from the ashes, the part of her that wanted this, that wanted Harry.

“Do,” Ginny whispered, “do you want to come to the consultation, with the photographer?”

Harry’s grin tilted just a bit higher and he glanced down at the screen, “I think I can be there for it, probably smart too, since I’m paying the man and all.”

Ginny felt the smile pulling on her lips and she gave into it. “Yeah, got to make sure this bloke isn’t going to take your money and run.”

Harry laughed and moved closer, placing his hand on the small of her back again, “As long as he isn’t also running off with the wedding coordinator.”

Ginny stopped breathing. She honest to goodness forgot how to make her lungs pull breath in and expel it out.

“Harry,” Ted’s voice sounded down the hall. “The stove timer is going off, which dish is it for?”

Ginny saw annoyance flash in Harry’s eyes as his hand fell from her back. The lack of contact brought her breath back, but Ginny would have almost rather passed out from lack of oxygen than have him not touching her. Harry moved toward the door and Ginny watched him in slow motion as Luna’s advice rang through her ears.

“Harry,” she barely heard her own voice but Harry stopped dead in his tracks and turned towards her.

“The,” she bit her lip and took a deep breath, “the wedding coordinator is more interested in the godfather than the photographer.”

Harry’s smile bloomed on his face like a morning flower, “That’s very good news.” He winked at her before disappearing down the hallway.

Ginny felt her breath leave with him.