#makes me almost tempted to be more social but also the amount of alcohol it takes for me to tolerate the noise is not great

[thistransient]

the end of the night

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Oh Baby! [Spencer Reid x fem! reader]

Send me a I wish you would write a fic where…

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From this Anon prompt - “you're drunk, you have sex, the only problem is that you hate each other, and you think you're pregnant so you have to deal with it (you're not, it's just late)”

Not me posting two fics in one day! I like to think of this as a prelude to Odd Socks which I posted earlier. Mild hints at smut, drinking and bad language. Enemies to lovers.

WC: 3.8k

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Spencer Reid was not your favorite person. He wasn’t even in your top twenty. Or fifty. Or even a hundred.

Working with him was a chore. He was constantly correcting you, always had to be right and you found it exhausting. After four years of working with him you’d all but reached the end of your tether.

You just tried to distance yourself from him the best you could which was easy in the field but not so easy when Penelope insisted everyone go out for drinks. Everyone. Including the anti-social Doctor Reid.

Even with copious amounts of wine in your system, he was no less annoying.

“Statistically speaking, one in five American’s-“

You cut him off when you started to make a high pitched squeaking noise. Spencer and the rest of the team turned to look at you with frowns on their faces.

“What was that?” Spencer asked in confusion.

“Oh I’m sorry,” you sipped your wine. “That’s just the sound my brain makes whenever you speak.”

You saw Spencer’s jaw clench the way it always did when you insulted him; it was his way of trying to bite his tongue and not rise to it.

But he’d also had a few glasses of wine and try as he might, he couldn’t hold back this time.

“It surprises me to know you have a brain.” He scoffed.

You growled at him, literally growled like a dog before you threw back your wine and got up from the table.

“I need another drink.” You spat before storming away.

You ordered a drink and were waiting to pay when he sidled up next to you.

“What’s the matter Y/N? You can dish it but can’t take it?” He was smirking at you and you wanted to slap that stupid look off of his face.

“Just leave me alone Reid.” You rolled your eyes. You didn't want to get into a fight with him, not here.

“I find it funny that I’m expected to just take the insults you throw my way but the second I bite back you go running.” He folded his arms, his expression telling you he found it anything but funny.

“I’m ducking smart.” You growled again. “I have a higher than average IQ but you are always belittling me and making me feel like the stupidest person in the goddamn room!”

“That’s what this is about?” He frowned a little, his arms falling back to his sides. “I’m not trying to belittle you Y/N. I’m trying to challenge you.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I’ve never met anyone who can keep up with me. I’ve never met anyone who can give me a run for money. It’s nice having someone almost as smart as me around.” He smirked a little, accentuating the word almost.

“You were so close to saying something nice.” You scoffed, tossing a note on the bar before grabbing your drink and turning your back on him.

You started back to your table but he was quick to catch up with you and you felt his large hand on your shoulder.

“Does it always have to be like this?” He asked when you turned back to face him.

You contemplated this for a moment before you stepped out of his grasp.

“Yes.” You spat and then you continued back to the table.

***

You groaned loudly as you peeled your eyes open and the sunlight hit your retinas. Clearly in your state last night you’d forgotten to close the curtains.

You’d had more than your fair share of booze last night and your head was pounding. At least today was your day off. God you hoped you didn’t get called in on a case.

You wriggled yourself up against your pillows and ran your fingers through your tangled hair.

At around the same time you realised you were naked was almost the exact moment a small grumbled startled you.

You practically screamed, turning over to see the other body in what you assumed was your otherwise empty bed. He had his back to you, his head buried under the pillow.

You didn’t remember meeting anyone last night, let alone bringing someone home.

“What the fuck?” You raised your voice making your head throb.

The man grumbled again and when he spoke his voice was muffled under the pillow.

“Jeez Y/N keep it down, my head is pounding.”

You froze. You would know that voice anywhere. That voice was like nails on a chalkboard to you.

You grabbed the pillow and lifted it from his head. As expected you were met with messy, brown curls.

“Reid?” you yelled even louder than before. “What the fuck are you doing in my bed?”

“Please, keep your voice down.” his voice was low and croaky. He rolled onto his back and you could see his eyes were bloodshot, probably from all the alcohol. He was also shirtless too and you would be willing to bet he was wearing as many clothes as you were.

“What. Are. You. Doing. In. My. Bed.” you slowed down, pausing between each word.

Spencer sat up a little, ruffling his hair.

“Well I’m naked.” he croaked. “And I can only assume you are too, which would lead one to believe we had sex.” he spoke casually as though it wasn’t the most ludicrous thing in the world.

“No.” you shook your head. “No way. There is no way I would have sex with you.”

“The current situation begs to differ.” he smirked at you.

“Nuh uh. Nope. No way.” you shook your head again. “Absolutely not. There must be another explanation. You are the last person I would ever sleep with.”

“Well trust me, you did.”

“You remember?” you frowned.

“Eidetic memory.” he smirked again, looking proud of himself. “Even when drunk. We most certainly had sex and you most defintely enjoyed the mulitple orgasms I gave you.”

“No.” you shook your head again. “No, that didn’t happen.” you swung your legs out of the bed, making sure to keep the bed sheet wrapped around your naked body.

Your clothes were just out of reach. You would have to get up to reach them.

You looked back at Spencer over your shoulder and he was staring at you.

“I need to get up, don’t look.” you spat at him.

“I’ve seen it all already Y/N, it’s all up here.” he smirked once more, tapping his head with his index finger. “I’ve got it all memorised. The swell of your breasts, the curve of your hips. The small red wine coloured birthmark on your inner thigh. The way you smell. The way you taste. The way you screamed my-”

“Stop it!” you cut him off. “Stop it for christ sake.” you needed to distance yourself from him so despite knowing he was watching you, you stood up and keeping your back to him made a grab for your dress.

You pulled it over your head and covered yourself before turning back to him.

“Why are you just sitting there?”

“I was hoping you’d maybe have the decency to make me some coffee? After all I did for you last night.” he winked at you and you hated that it sent a twinge between your legs.

You had never seen this side of Reid, this confidence. You always assumed he was probably a virgin but you supposed it was always the quiet ones.

“Well you know hope leads to disappointment. Get up and get out of my apartment.” you wrapped your arms around yourself, as though protecting yourself from something.

“Now that’s just rude.”

“Reid, this was clearly a huge mistake. We were both extremely drunk otherwise there is no way we would have ended up in bed together. So let’s just agree to pretend this never happened and never speak of it again.”

Spencer chewed his lip looking as though he was contemplating this. Then he smirked again.

“Or,” he had a mischievous look in his eyes. “You can come back to bed and we can have a repeat of last night. Last night I made you come four times. I think I can beat that.”

You felt your cheeks burning with embarrassment and more worryingly, arousal. You hoped he didn’t notice what his words were doing to you.

You liked this confident side of him. There was something so hot about the way he was looking at you and talking to you. If this was how he had talked to you last night you were surprised you ended up here.

“Get out!” you forced yourself to say. The thought of getting back into bed with him was too tempting. But at least you could blame last night on the wine. If you got back into bed with him now you had no one to blame but yourself. And you knew he would hold it over you forever.

“If you insist.” he shrugged, slipping out from under the covers. He stood up and faced you, stark naked. He was hard and you had to force your eyes away from his erection up to the ceiling. He clearly noticed because he laughed.

“I don’t know why you’re fighting this.” he chuckled.

“Because you are an ass and I can’t stand you.”

“But I’m an ass who can show you a good time.”

“Good god Reid just please...please get out of my apartment.” It was taking every ounce of your strength to keep your eyes away from him. You knew if you looked back at him it would be game over. You would pounce on him and throw him back on the bed and he would win.

You kept your eyes fixed on the ceiling while he reluctantly dressed in last night clothes. Once he was fully clothed you finally allowed yourself to look back at him.

He looked so different from how you were used to seeing him. His shirt was wrinkled and he kept the top couple of buttons undone. His tie was slung open around his neck and he dangled his blazer from his finger. He almost looked normal.

“Are you sure you want me to leave?” he asked with another small smirk and you swore you were actually going to smack that look off his face in a minute.

“Very.” you folded your arms in defiance.

“Fine.” he shrugged. “See you tomorrow Y/N. Thanks for a great night.” he gave you another wink before he headed to the bedroom door.

You forced yourself to stay rooted to the spot and not go after him. You stayed put until you heard the apartment door open and close behind him.

Once you were sure he was gone, you fell back to the bed with a sigh.

What had you done? Why on earth would you sleep with Spencer Reid?

Little did you know, it was about to get a whole lot worse.

***

Three Weeks Later

“Nope. No. No way. Not possible.” you paced your apartment, muttering under your breath. “Nuh uh. Nope. Nada. Not a fucking chance.”

The knock on the door startled you, making you physically jump. You’d been expecting him, you’d invited him, but you’d been so wrapped up in your thoughts you’d momentarily forgotten.

You took a few deep breaths to try and calm your breathing before you made your way to the door.

You flung it open, he was standing on the other side looking a little frustrated that you had dragged him across town on your day off.

“Yes?” he scoffed.

You were regretting this immediately.

“Come in, come in.” you motioned Spencer hurriedly inside.

“If this is some kind of booty call Y/N, I am not interested.”

You closed the door behind him rolling your eyes.

Since your stupid drunken night spent together things had been even worse between the two of you. Spencer barely spoke to you anymore, not that you were really complaining but it was odd. He gave you the cold shoulder after you’d told him to forget all about the night you spent together.

What you didn’t realise was your words had hurt Spencer. He had been waiting four years to make a move on you but had always been too scared of the ultimate rejection. When you had come on to him that night he had been elated. It had been the best night of Spencer’s life and you’d just wanted to act like nothing had happened. It hurt, so he’d had to distance himself from you as much as possible.

“Booty call? You really think that’s what this is?” you frowned at him.

“No of course not, how could I be so stupid.” he rolled his eyes now. “God forbid you would want to sleep with me.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Just forget it.” he grumbled. “What did you drag all the way over here for?”

Oh yes, that.

You sighed loudly, feeling sick just thinking about the words you needed to utter.

“I...I uhm...fuck. We fucked up. We made a big fucking mistake.”

“Excuse me?” He spat. “First you tell me to forget anything happened but now you are telling me it was a complete mistake? Wow, that makes me feel fucking great thanks. You know what Y/N you-”

“Shut up!” you cut him off. “That’s not what I...not like that. We just...fuck this is fucked up.” you started pacing again.

“What the fuck are you talking about Y/N?” he grabbed your wrist to stop you pacing and pulled you to a stop to look at him. He saw tears behind your eyes. “What is this about?”

You had to just say it, blurt it out. Just like ripping off a bandaid.

“I t-think...I m-might be...I’m not sure...but I’m late and I’m n-never late…” a few tears escaped your eyes. “Fuck Spencer!” you sniffed, you had never called him by his first name before. “I think I might be pregnant.”

Spencer felt the air leave his lungs, as though your words had just punched him in the gut.

The words hung in the air between you like stale smoke in a bar. Time stood still. His head was spinning.

“P-pregnant.” he choked out. “With a b-baby.”

“Yes genius.” you dried your eyes on the back of your hand.

“And it’s m-mine?”

“Do you think I would be telling you this if it wasn’t?” you spat. “Fuck Reid, say something useful!”

“I don’t know w-what to say.” he swallowed hard, struggling to grasp at a coherent thought. “Are you s-sure?”

“No.” you shook your head. “I said I think I might be. I haven’t taken a test yet, it’s probably too early. But I was due five days ago and that is not normal for me. I am like clockwork.”

He could tell how much this clearly pained you to admit to him so he knew if you were telling him this you were pretty damn certain.

“Pregnant.” He repeated, still trying to wrap his head around it.

“What the fuck are we going to do Spencer?” You started sobbing then and Spencer couldn’t help but come to you and throw his arms around you.

You tried to resist at first but then you gave in and buried your head into his chest while you cried.

He ran his large hands up and down your back and placed soft kisses to your head. It was a very strange situation for the two of you.

“Y/N I am going to be here for you every step of the way.” He used his finger to guide your chin up so you were looking at him. “You and our baby will not be alone in this ok?”

You chewed your lip trying to sniff back your tears.

“You don’t have to. You don’t have to be involved.”

“I want to be.” He stroked your cheek. “The truth is Y/N, I’m crazy about you and I have been for a really long time. I want this. Us, this baby. I want it all.” He brushed away your tears and placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Spencer Reid has feelings, who would have thought.” You teased him.

He laughed a little.

“You can say something nice every once in a while you know?”

“I hope our baby has your eyes.” You smiled softly at him. “And your smile.”

“I hope they have your everything.” He replied.

He bowed his head a little to meet you and he let his lips brush cautiously over yours as though testing the waters. When he went to pull away, you gripped the back of his neck and kept him close, your mouth opening and allowing his tongue access.

It felt right. It felt like you should have always been doing this. It felt like the stars and planets aligning.

But of course, it couldn’t last. You should have known better.

***

Over the next few weeks things changed dramatically between you and Spencer. It was amazing how this had brought the two of you together and seemingly washed away four years of contempt you held towards each other.

Despite the pregnancy the two of you decided to take things slow, you went on dates, held hands and had the occasional make out session but that was as far as it went, despite being desperate for each other.

This was the time to get to know each other, really get to know each other. You were going to be parents after all.

Or so you thought.

The day before you were going to take your first pregnancy test Spencer found you in the bathroom at Quantico, on the floor in tears.

You’d been away from your desk for a little while so he’d gone looking for you. He had never expected to find you like this.

He ran to your side and fell to the floor next to you, instinctively wrapping his arms around you.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You pushed him away.

“Don’t touch me.” You sobbed.

“I-I...what’s happened Y/N? Please talk to me.”

“What’s wrong?” You spat. “What’s wrong is that I just came on my period, that's what’s wrong!” You raised your voice.

“You...you’re not…” he croaked, unable to form a sentence.

“I’m not pregnant Reid.” He finished for him. Hearing you call him Reid again was weird and it didn’t sit right with him.

His own eyes welled with tears. He’d already gotten so used to the idea of having a child with you he felt his heart shatter in his chest.

“Oh.” He croaked. He had no idea what to say.

“Just go Reid.” You wiping your eyes on the sleeve of your blouse.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He sniffed.

“We don’t have to do this anymore. I’m not pregnant, I’m not having your baby. You’re free. You don’t have to pretend this was any more than what it was.”

“And what was it?” He chewed his lip with a frown.

“We were trying to force feelings that weren’t really there. We were just trying to pretend for the sake of the baby. But there is no baby. So we don’t need to bother anymore.”

Spencer’s frown deepened.

“Pretending?” he scoffed. “Y-you thought I was pretending?”

“We both were Reid and it’s ok. We just wanted to make it work because we thought we were having a child. But we aren’t so let’s just go back to normal and pretend nothing happened.”

“You expect me to pretend nothing happened?” he swallowed, his mouth feeling suddenly dry. “You want me to pretend I wasn’t excited at the thought of being a father? You want me to pretend I hadn’t started thinking of baby names and planning our future together? A future for the three of us. You think I can just pretend that baby or not that I’m not head over heels in love with you?” His words came tumbling out of his mouth so fast he barely had time to realise he was saying them before they were out.

He saw the moment you registered what he’d said. He saw your mouth fall open and your eyes widen. Understandable really, he’d just confessed his love to you in the bathroom of the BAU.

“I-I…” nope, there were no words, at least none that you could find anyway.

“It wasn’t supposed to come out like that.” He swallowed a lump in throat. “But uhm...now it’s out there I can’t very well take it back. I’m in love with you, I probably have been since the moment you walked through the door. I remember it like it was yesterday. Hotch introduced us and I knew when our eyes met you were the person I’d been searching for.” A few tears escaped his eyes.

“Y-you...me?”

“Yes you.” He laughed a little cupping your face and you let him wipe away your tears. “I’m sorry you aren’t pregnant, I’m really, really sorry, because it would be a privilege and an honour to father your child.”

“I-I had no idea you felt that way.”

“You’re a worse profiler than I thought you were in that case.” He teased.

“Oh if you're so good, tell me Doctor Reid, what am I thinking right now?” You gave him an unimpressed face.

“You’re thinking,” he moved one hand around to the base of your neck. “That I’m an ass and you’d be right. But you’re also thinking that you want me to kiss you.”

“Oh am I now?” You raised an eyebrow at him but you couldn’t help but glance down at his lips.

“Let’s see if I’m right.” He smirked and then he captured your lips with his own in a deep kiss. When you opened your mouth to allow his tongue access, he knew he was right.

When you pulled back both of your tears were all but gone.

“I guess I should say, I love you too by the way.” You told him with a shrug.

“Oh I know.” He shot you a smirk as he pushed himself up to his feet.

He held his hands out and you took them and he hoisted you to your feet.

“I don’t like cocky Spencer.” You grumbled.

“No, you love him.”

You nudged him playfully in the ribs. To your surprise he suddenly enveloped you in a tight embrace.

“I really am sorry you aren’t pregnant Y/N.” He kissed your head. “One day we’ll make one, I promise. But in the meantime,” he smirked to himself. “We sure can have a lot of fun practicing.”

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[may-b-a-u-shewritestoo]

The Feeling Is Mutual | | Part 2 | | Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

PART 1

Summary; You’re both profilers, analysing behaviour and making connections. So why is it so hard to read each other?

Includes; injury to main characters, talk of injury, talk of violence, talk of unsub and weapons, talk of being drugged, sickening amount of fluff, mutual masturbation, (MINORS DNI 18+)talk of sex, dirty talk, no dynamic!, and a bit more fluff :)

Word count; 3.6K

Plans had changed and you were not happy about it. The pattern in victimology had shown that the unsub targeted men who were uncomfortable in social settings. Vulnerable type. Derek, being the giant intimidating boulder of a man he was, wouldn’t have attracted the unsub.

So they were sending in Spencer. Everybody including you knew he would fit the description required for this unsub; but the thought of him being touched or hurt or flirted with by somebody that wasn’t you brought a nauseating heavy feeling in your stomach.

“What’s wrong? You’ve had a permanent frown on your face since we started this morning.”

Spencer could feel the mood thickening in the air of the hotel room as he turned to face you.

He was trying to straighten his tie, completely oblivious to the way you stared at him with a mix you could only describe as anger-lust-fear. You didn’t want to even think about how he would react to you telling him the real reason you were upset so you just sighed and shook your head.

“I just hate last minute changes. I thought we were gonna hang back, let Derek do his ‘thing’ and she’d walk out gripping his unnaturally large bicep.” You twiddled with your fingers as you mumbled an excuse to get Spencer off your back.

“What’s wrong with her walking out on my unnaturally small bicep?” he laughed, trying to lighten the mood. You rolled your eyes, forcing them away from staring at his arms and imagining yourself gripping them in a different situation.

*********************

It was nauseating. The way her fingernails slowly dragged along his forearm, and slipped a little underneath the rolled sleeve. Her stupid voice pitching higher to seem more cute and innocent. He really did fit the part, swallowing thickly and stumbling over his words when she leaned forward a little and exposed her chest a little more.

“Have you ever felt like your body was on fire?” she asked, face now mere inches away from his. Spencer looked over at the security camera that he knew could see them both.

“That’s it. That’s the line. Stand by Y/N, Morgan.” Hotch warned, watching the footage over the nervous shoulders of Garcia.

A young tech student from a local college had been extremely fortunate in escaping the unsub the early hours of this morning. He’d shakily mumbled about her saying about being on fire and then chugging back a pint of straight gin. He asked if she needed help and she’d told him her car was outside if he wouldn’t mind helping her get home.

But as he went to open the driver side door to get in, he noticed her giggling to herself and a gun sitting on her lap. So he ran.

Hotch was worried that his escape would either mess up the trap tonight, or completely change her M.O and she would devolve, leaving you all at another starting point. But luckily for you all, she only had one technique, and was set on using it; so here you all were.

As you stood with your back against the wall, you peeked your head ever so slightly around the bar doors; the small circular window showing the back of her head and Spencer in full view.

“God, she’s making me feel sick. Why is she so touchy? I thought she would’ve dragged him out of here by now.” Whispering with a malicious tone to your voice, Derek chucked quietly at your rage.

“Jealous? Pretty Boy’s getting some attention from a serial killer and you’re jealous?”

“I’m not jealous Morgan. I’m disgusted.” sighing, you rolled your eyes.

“Y/N you know it’s my job. I’m not stupid. Anyone can see you’re completely and utterly-“

“Shut up.”

“Y/N you can change the subject all you like, everybody kno-“

“Derek, they’re gone.”

You had no visual. You couldn’t see her, nor Spencer. Not even an inch of her hair flicking into a different direction, not even a corner of Spencer’s jacket.

“Hotch?” Morgan spoke with a warning inflection into his smart watch.

Scanning the footage for where they could’ve possibly gone, Hotch hurriedly put on his Kevlar and gun before jumping out to head round the back of the bar.

“Guys, I have a visual on Reid. He’s out cold up on the V.I.P balcony. I can’t seem to find-”

Peeking again through the bar window, you didn’t have time to register what Penelope was saying nor what was happening before you felt a dull pain throb through your face. Stumbling backwards and trying to keep your balance, you noticed a warm and fuzzy feeling buzzing across your body before everything went black.

***************

“Can you just shut up and pass me a spoon? I’m not kidding anymore.”

“Get it yourself. You don’t wanna listen to me, why should I listen to you?”

“You’re an asshole Derek. Just so you know. I’ve eaten Jello with a straw before, and I’ll do it again.”

“Boys, will you shut up, her eyes just moved.”

Muffled voices stirred you to consciousness as you struggled to open your eyes. Immediately sending a sharp pain to your head, the lights felt like lasers as you tried to make sense of where you were.

“Jesus H Christ, why are the lights so damn bright?”

“There she is. Good morning pretty girl.” The sweet sounds of Miss Garcia swam through your ears, and her perfume overwhelmed your senses as she leant down to kiss your cheek. “I bought you a cupcake, and I’ve made sure these two don’t touch it.”

Squinting at the two men sitting on the empty hospital bed next to yours, you laughed at the two of them. They were acting like children.

Derek had a plastic spoon in his hand, holding and waving it as far away from Spencer as he possibly could. Spencer sat cross legged, arms folded but with a sealed cup of orange jello in one hand; tutting at Derek with disappointment.

“Would anybody like to update and inform me on why on earth Penelope is babysitting us in a hospital ward?” you asked, attempting to sit up a little bit, and groaning out at how much your body ached.

Spencer almost stood up when you grimaced in pain, but stayed seated as not to look too bothered.

“We caught the unsub,” Derek began to explain, Penelope giggling when you did a silent ‘yay’ and mini jazz hands, “but she roofied Reid, which was new and discovered his badge in his jacket.” He looked over at Reid with a sarcastic look, to which he was met with shrugged shoulders and Spencer digging into his jello.

“As she came back down the stairs to make her escape, she noticed you and Derek arguing or whatever that was outside the bar doors, and snuck into the crowd to watch you. When you tried to find her, I just saw her coming towards the doors but she moved hella fast.” Penelope explained, sipping from a bright pink tumbler.

“She kicked the door that you were stood behind, and then basically jumped you until you were unconscious, but didn’t quite realise I was there. So I got her. Pretty Boy here woke up a few hours ago just hungry.”

Spencer looked up at Derek and smiled, letting everyone know he was too invested in the jello to retaliate to his sarcasm. He glimpsed over at you and smiled in a different way, which Penelope caught on to immediately.

“Anyway! The doctor said you have a lot of bruised ribs but other than that you are good to go home today! Did you want me to stay over at yours? I can bring more cupcakes?” She asked sweetly, passing you the sprinkle covered cupcake and unwrapping it for you.

She was the equivalent of a big sister and a mom to you; always looking out for you, making sure you’d eaten but also joining in on gossip and hosting alcoholic themed sleepovers. She knew about yours and Spencer’s hookups, after the one time you were accidentally too loud in the hotel room next to hers.

You’d been sat on a swivel chair in her office, begging and pleading and bribing with sweet treats and baked goods for her not to tell a soul and as far as you were aware, she stuck to her promise. With a dramatic mime of locking her lips shut, she had grabbed a croissant from your hands and turned back to her computer.

“I could - sorry - I could stay over if you’d prefer Y/N? I know we’ve got a few episodes of Black Mirror to catch up on?” Spencer jumped at the chance to interrupt, correcting himself as his volume came out louder than planned.

Nodding quickly with a huge beaming smile and a mouth full of cupcake, you could feel yourself internally healing already.

“I’d like that. If that’s okay Pen? I’ve tried to explain to him that you can’t ‘catch up’ on Black Mirror but he won’t have it.” You carried on enjoying the sugary treat, as Spencer carried on eating his; ignoring the blatant smirks being swapped between Derek and Penelope.

*****************

As far as you were concerned the past weekend had gone way too quickly. Coming home from hospital on Thursday evening, Spencer had stayed over and still hadn’t left.

It was just about Sunday morning, and you’d both passed out after playing cards until 3am. He’d kept you so busy and your brain occupied you’d barely had time to think about your body aching and healing. He made you laugh so hard at times you were tempted to call the emergency room back to see if they could check you in again.

You guys hadn’t kissed or barely touched except to cuddle on the couch; even then Spencer was hesitant because he was convinced he’d do more damage. But it wasn’t the aches and pains that was getting to you. It was the way you felt starved of touch and affection.

Usually you both would be particularly in the mood, would call one another up and you’d both satiate each other’s needs before maybe having a cuddle and leaving.

In all fairness, the last time you felt him was only yesterday morning when he came to give you some tea in bed. He’d sat beside you - very gently - drinking his own sugar and coffee; hand holding onto your thigh and stroking lightly. It was all too sweet. Sweeter than the concoction he made to drink every morning.

But now you’d woken up only a few hours after going to sleep, the room still a shade of blue and gray. Sunrise was on its way, but night was still present, no birdsong could be heard; but the soft hums of Spencer Reid sleeping filled the air.

You knew that Hotch had given the both of you time off, you had nowhere to be for 2 more days. You wanted oh so desperately to shake him awake, jump his bones and go several rounds until you were due in, but not only could your body not physically take it; your heart couldn’t either.

Something felt different. Unrecognised, the feeling of wanting something else flooded your thoughts. Did you want to be fucked? Did you want to lay in Spencer’s arms for the entire day and be held? Or did you want both?

The way he’d smiled over at you when you woke up in hospital made you feel like you’d driven over a speed bump, your tummy swirling around and doing backflips. How he’d stayed with you after, how he’d looked after you and listened to you this whole time.

Unbeknownst to you however, while you were deep in thought about whatever this weird feeling was; Spencer had blinked his eyes open, rested his head in one of his hands and was watching you.

“What’re you thinking about?”

You jumped, grimacing as you stretched out a rib that you definitely shouldn’t have stretched out. “I’m currently thinking about how much that hurt, how much I hate you and how much I’m going to regret being awake later.”

Spencer laughed, a slight husk from tiredness layered into it. He brought his opposite hand up and stroked up and down your spine, noticing how goosebumps formed underneath his fingertips.

“You cold?”

“No.”

“Come here.”

Slowly laying back down, you groaned out in a mixture of uncomfortableness and relief as you got back into the warm spot next to Reid. Looking over at him made you feel giddy, the way you would feel getting ready for a date or a big event. You were nervous. But why?

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours Y/N?” he asked sweetly, fingers coming up to stroke your cheek. He quickly withdrew them and cleared his throat, laying back down completely parallel beside you.

“Spencer, are you tired right now?”

“No. Are you?” He shuffled onto his side again.

“No. Quite the opposite.” with slight struggle, you mirrored his position, laying on your side and looking into his eyes with a lazy smile.

“Y/N, I can’t, you’re struggling to even lay down let alone-“

“No Spencer, I’m not hinting at sex. Although the millisecond I can, I will.” you laughed out, edging slightly closer to him. His breath hitched, and he shuffled awkwardly.

“What do you want?”

“I want to feel good Spence,”

“I thought you just said-“

“I want to feel good. So, I’m going to make myself feel good.” Your voice dropped a little, hoping that Spencer would catch on to what you were implying. Sometimes he could catch your drift, other times you would have to spell it out for him. Luckily for you, it was the former.

He nodded, waiting for you to make the next move. Watching you with intent, he began taking in each tiny detail of you.

The way you kept your eyes on his but let your hand trail down your body. The sigh of relief and arousal as you shuffled a little closer to him again, before laying on your back slowly and getting ready and comfortable. You let out a deep exhale while trailing your other hand over your chest, squeezing ever so lightly.

“Fuck Y/N. You’re really gonna do it? What if you hurt, the doctor recommended not strain-“

“Spencer, stop. I know my limits. I also know that if I don’t make myself cum soon I might actually spontaneously combust.”

He chuckled at your silliness, before remembering something. “There’s actually been less than 150 cases of spontaneous combustion recorded in almost 2000 years, so I doubt that your heightened state of arousal could cause you-“

“Spencer Reid, if you don’t shut up and kiss me right now I will make sure I’m the 150th case.”

He giggled and leant down to your lips, holding your face with one hand and holding himself up with the other arm. Pressing gently against your lips as if you were made of glass, he smiled against you; letting out a small moan as you reached up and pulled him closer into the kiss.

Your fingers circling over your clit through your panties caused you to wind your hips up against your hand gently, remembering not to overdo it. Moaning out quietly as you applied more pressure, Spencer pulled back to watch you.

“You look so beautiful Y/N.” He whispered, eyes darting between your face concentrated with pleasure and your hands roaming around your body.

He could feel himself growing and stiffening underneath his pyjama pants when you whimpered in response, and he bucked instinctively as the material grew tighter.

“Do you wanna touch yourself too Spence?” you mumbled out, movements staying the same speed but your head turning to watch him,“Touch yourself with me, feel what I’m feeling.”

“Yes, please.” Spencer laid down beside you again, his arm touching yours. Gripping himself through his pants he hissed out at the sudden contact.

Leaning your head against his shoulder, you watched to see what his next move would be; waiting to mirror him. He caught on to you copying his movements as he slipped his hands underneath his pants, a mix of a chuckle and a moan falling from his lips as you did the same.

“God this is so sexy..” Spencer moaned out louder this time, as he grasped his cock fully in his palm. Mimicking his actions, you also became a little louder; the feeling of skin touching skin becoming more and more intense.

“Tell me something Spence.” you spoke breathily, fingers applying more pressure to your clit and switching to dip inside yourself.

Curling his wrist with every sharp tug and squeezing the head of his cock every time he reached the top, all he could do was try to take deep breaths where he held them for so long.

“I thought about you. When she flirted with me.”

You wanted to pause, wondering why he brought up an unsub in the middle of such an intimate moment. But his next words only brought you closer to your brink.

“When I looked over her shoulder and saw you watching, saw the anger in your eyes. You looked so fucking mad baby. I couldn’t figure out why, but I liked it. When she touched me, I wished it was your hands. I thought about you the whole time, fuck.” Spencer squeezed his eyes shut, trying to not look at you in order to keep calm and patient with his orgasm.

“Yeah? Wished it was me leaning over you like that?” You could barely string a sentence together with how good you felt, your thighs clenching together around your wrist, your hips bucking up as much as your body allowed them to.

“Mhmm. Thought about taking you home, bending you over my couch with your uniform still on.”

“Fuck Spence. She made me so jealous, I wanted to go in there and rip her off of you. Would’ve made you mine right there at the bar.”

He hissed and groaned out, speeding up even more, matching the pace you had set yourself; aiming to finish with you.

“Fuck. I’m all yours Y/N, this cock is all fucking yours.” He was so close, throbbing and thrusting into his fist, pulling his head back so he could watch your face.

Hearing him say he was yours dragged you to the edge of your orgasm, thighs beginning to shake a little. Your wrist was growing tired but you refused to stop, too caught up in the gradually increasing pleasure.

“I’m so close honey, please,” you pulled your gaze away from where he stroked himself to meet his eyes, wanting to watch his face as he toppled over the edge too, “please tell me I can come, I wanna come for you.”

You grew needy, ignoring the ache in your torso as you writhed against your fingers, your head falling back as you felt the waves coming. Spencer watched as you slowly began to fall and crash into it.

Tugging at himself with the same speed as you, he quickly moved onto his side a little to watch you better. Pressing his lips to your neck, he bit down gently before whispering the words you needed.

“Let it go for me Y/N, you can come. Come for me,” As you slipped under the waves and felt like you were drowning in the numb yet intense pulsation, Spencer coaxed you through it as he too got carried away by his own throbbing, “that’s it baby, fuck I’m coming, oh my go-, ah fuck it feels so good.”

Spencer became quickly overwhelmed by his orgasm, rolling onto his back again as he carried on spilling onto his stomach. Continuing to slowly rub yourself, you came down from your crescendo and watched as he worked himself through his.

“Fuck Spencer, there’s so much.” Leaving little kisses along his shoulder, you giggled sweetly as he tensed with the aftershocks and tried to catch his breath. He grinned with a post-orgasm smile and turned his head to nestle against the top of yours.

“Are you okay?” Spencer murmured into your hair, leaving a little kiss on the crown of your head. Simply nodding against his shoulder, you attempted to shuffle closer but forgot how tense your body had been in its peak.

“Fuck. Can you help me?” Giggling and wincing at the same time as an attempt to sit up. Spencer laughed at you sweetly, sitting himself up quickly and snaking an arm underneath your back.

Pulling you up smoothly, he left a light kiss against your temple before slipping his other arm underneath your legs and hoisting you up.

“Wait, where are we going?” You whined out, wrapping your arms around his neck and shoulders. He walked the two of you into the en-suite and set you down gently on the counter.

“I am going to get us cleaned up,” he smiled at you before getting a washcloth ready, “and then we’re going to talk about us.”

He began to wipe the washcloth across his chest and his stomach, looking up curiously when you asked, “Us?”

“Wait. What you said about- when you said that thing about making me yours? Did I completely misread that? Because I feel- I thought it was obvious that I felt-“ He stumbled, self consciousness creeping in slowly as he realised he may have taken it too far.

But you smiled softly, grabbing the cloth from his hands and pulling him to rest between your legs. At least he’d cleared the air for you. You didn’t feel remotely nervous anymore.

Cupping his face in your hands and stroking along his jaw with each thumb, you pulled him in for a delicate kiss. Grinning against his lips, he returned the motion and kissed you once more.

“The feeling is mutual, Spencer.”

[pines-troz]

Those We Hold Dear - Animaniacs/Pinky and The Brain Oneshot

Summary: An introverted Brain finds himself feeling lost during the holiday party on the Warner Movie Lot. He manages to find some respite upon finding a pool table in the abandoned rec room. When Yakko unexpectedly invites himself in, the two engage in some casual conversation, then slowly open themselves up as they talk about their loved ones. 

This story includes mild doses of Brinky and Non-Binary Wakko with he/they pronouns. 

Word Count: 7,969

TW: Brief mentions of trauma, animal testing, and alcohol

Includes spoilers from the Animaniacs Reboot and references to the Pinky and The Brain spin-off cartoon. 

Special thanks to @themurphyzone for beta reading!

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27714374

Beginning AN: This fic was written because there aren’t enough stories where Pinky and The Brain interact with the Warners, and I feel like there’s so much untapped potential in terms of interesting character dynamics and I wanted to explore that with this story. I hope you enjoy this self-indulgent and very heartwarming fanfic. 

As Christmas time drew near, The Warner Brothers movie lot was bustling with the spirit of the holiday season. Studios were dressed in Christmas decorations, and classic Christmas songs played over the speakers. And in the heart of the studio, the WB office was holding a special holiday party for the cast and crew of the Animaniacs reboot. Pinky and the Brain were among the invited guests, and the two mice strolled through the movie lot together as they made their way to the party. 

Brain shook his head, still in disbelief that he and Pinky worked as part-time actors, and even more so that they were asked to return for the Animaniacs reboot after the original show had been off the air for over twenty years. 

The small mouse remembered back in the early 1990s, when one of his initial plans for world domination involved him and Pinky breaking into the Warner Bros. studio to broadcast his homemade propaganda film. But while they infiltrated the studio, they were spotted by a small group of writers. When Brain explained in earnest that he and Pinky were ‘genetically altered lab mice trying to take over the world’, the writers were so amused and inspired that they brought the lab mice over to meet the studio executives and were hired right on the spot.

While having to act out failed plans to take over the world felt like a slap to the face at times, Brain quickly found the positive aspects of working on a popular television show. He and Pinky worked on set a few days a week (which saved them from having to undergo more painful experiments from the scientists at Acme Labs), they got along well with the other cast, crew, and various workers on the Warner movie lot. The mice also received truck loads of fan mail and fan art from viewers (and they put in the effort to express their gratitude by writing back to as many letters as they could), attended conventions even long after the show went off the air, and were invited to cast parties. 

As much as Brain enjoyed seeing Pinky having a ball at the cast parties, he himself admittedly detested large social gatherings. If world domination was at stake, then Brain would be more motivated to be sociable; rubbing elbows with politicians, manipulating powerful individuals to do his bidding, and being one step closer to planetary conquest. 

But Brain had no schemes up his sleeve. No ulterior motives, hidden agendas, or feasible plans for world conquest tonight. The mouse had put off all plans to take over the world off the table during the holiday season after having read Pinky’s unsent letter to Santa that fateful Christmas. From that moment on, Brain vowed to ignore his own lofty ambitions during the holidays and to put more focus on making Pinky happy.  

The mice made sure to dress appropriately for the holiday party. Brain donned a red sweater and dark green pants. Simple festive colors, but nothing overly garish. Pinky, however, went above and beyond in his party attire, as he wore a green dress with candy cane prints all over and sparkly red shoes. Once they walked past the office doors, they approached the elevator. Brain retrieved his limb-enhancing device and pressed the button, which opened up the doors, and the two mice entered the elevator. Brain used the device again to hit the button for floor nine, and the elevator moved upwards. 

“Oh this is going to be so much fun, Brain!” Pinky chirped, flapping his hands with excitement. 

“Well if you’re happy, then I’m happy.” Brain affirmed, keeping a calm and orderly demeanor. 

Once they reached the right floor, they exited the elevator and approached the large event space where the party was held. As they approached the doorway, they were immediately greeted by Yakko, who wore a red and white striped blazer in addition to his usual brown slacks. 

“Hey, Pinky and the Brain!” Yakko greeted as he waved at them. “How are the fan favorites doing?” 

“We’re doing well for ourselves, Yakko-” Brain’s response was interrupted when he felt a giant wet smooch on his left cheek. He looked over his left to see Pinky smiling at him. The smaller mouse looked at his roommate with a shocked and irritated expression. 

“Pinky!” Brain berated his companion, as his cheeks began to flare up. “I told you, no frivolous displays of affection outside of the lab!” 

“Poit! I’m sorry Brain, but, you were standing right under the mistletoe, and I just couldn’t help myself!” Pinky explained with a joyous giggle as Brain wiped off the saliva from the side of his face. The intelligent mouse looked up above only to find that dreaded yuletide plant taped to the doorframe. 

“Hey sibs! The power couple just arrived!” Yakko addressed his younger siblings. Brain fumed at the eldest Warner boy, who shrugged and flashed a playful smile back at the mouse. 

Dot arrived on cue, followed by Wakko, who greedily shoveled all the contents of the plate of appetizers (and the plate) into their mouth. The younger Warners dressed appropriately for the festive occasion. Wakko wearing an oversized blue sweater with a sequin snowman, and their iconic backwards red cap had elf ears taped to each side. In addition to her pink skirt, Dot wore a white sweater with a colorful Christmas tree and a reindeer antler headband. 

“Pinky!” Dot greeted happily, skipping merrily towards the taller mouse. “Oh you look so adorable!”  

Pinky jumped for joy as the Warner sister picked him up. “Oh, why thank you Dot. Zort! I actually had a little help from Brain. He used his knit-o-matic machine to put the dress together!” 

Dot turned her attention over to Brain, who was still standing beneath her. “Hello Brain! Don’t go thinking that I forgot about you.” She said, giving a couple pats to his large head. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Brain bantered, but lost his guard when the middle Warner sibling scooped him into their hands. 

“Oh what joy, Brain is here!” Wakko cheered, lifting Brain up in the air as he twirled around. “I was thinking about going around the movie lot and belching my favorite Christmas carols later tonight. Would you care to join me?” 

“A tempting offer, but I’m afraid I have to decline.” Brain gently rejected. 

“Okay, but the offer still stands if you change your mind!” Wakko insisted. 

“Very well. Now would you be so kind as to put me down? I’m going to head on over to the refreshments table.” The mouse said. 

“Say, I was going to grab some snacks too! And maybe we can eat over at the table together!” Wakko proclaimed, carrying the mouse as he made their way to the refreshments table. 

“Well, I would be delighted to keep you company.” Brain answered honestly. 

The mouse tried to keep his favoritism hidden, but of all the cast members he worked with, he enjoyed being with the Warners the most. While they may be a nuisance to the humans on the movie lot, they were quite friendly with most of the animal actors on the set. Brain was quite enamored with Yakko’s comedic banter, Wakko’s silliness, and Dot’s wit and charm, and while they playfully teased him on occasions, it was never out of any malice. But the one aspect he enjoyed the most was that they were never judgemental of him or Pinky. 

Brain picked up the smallest plate from the stack and started picking out one of each cheese, a deviled egg, the second-to-last pig in a blanket, two baby carrots, and a jumbo shrimp. Wakko swooped in from behind, taking the last the last pig in a blanket and gobbled it up. 

Brain looked over at the line of wine glasses and the various wine bottles behind them and figured that he could go for a nice glass of red wine. Despite his short stature, Brain found an easier way to access the alcohol as he spotted Ralph the security guard (who may or may not be off-duty), grabbing a handful of jumbo shrimp. 

“Pardon me, Ralph.” Brain addressed the dim-witted security guard. 

Ralph turned his head and looked around for a few moments before spotting Brain. “Duh, oh hi Blaine.”

“Actually, it’s Brain.” The small mouse corrected. “Could you do me a small favor and pour me a glass of the pinot noir.” 

The security guard looked over at the wine bottles, scratching his head in bewilderment.  

“It’s the reddish bottle with the picture of purple grapes on it” Brain curtly explained in layman’s terms

“Oh, uh right!” The imbecilic security guard affirmed. He grabbed the specific bottle and poured a little too much wine into the glass, filling it almost to the top. The mouse did not care that he had an excessive amount of wine. Lord knows that he needs enough alcohol in his system to get through this social gathering. 

“Thank you, my good man.” Brain said politely. 

“But wait a minute, how are you gonna drink from the glass?” The security guard asked. 

“Already accounted for.” Brain reached into his pocket and pulled out a green swirly straw custom made for himself. 

Wakko walked over to Brain, carrying two full trays of appetizers. The middle Warner sibling marveled at the swirly straw. “You have great tastes in straws.” He carefully picked up Brain and placed him on top of their red hat. Wakko managed to carry his own plates, Brain’s plate and the wine glass with relative ease as he waltzed over to the table. 

“Thank you, Wakko.” Brain said gratefully. 

“Your welcome! Oh, I was wondering if you wanted to hear about how I found myself in Paris?” The middle child asked. “I want to tell someone else besides my siblings about all the fun adventures I had.” 

“Yes, I would love to hear some amusing anecdotes from your vacation.” Brain replied. The intelligent mouse was well aware that Wakko can be very passionate and talkative when it came to their interests, so he decided to validate the middle child with attentive ears. 

Brain listened intently as Wakko continued to talk about their trip. The intelligent mouse felt relieved that he wasn’t the one who had to initiate the conversation. He could simply provide Wakko his undivided attention and listen to them reminisce over their trip to Paris. This was splendid!

“I visited the Eiffel Tower, The Louvre, and Notre Dame, but only from the outside.” Wakko said wistfully. 

“The fire of Notre Dame was awfully devastating.” Brain added. “Forgive me if this comes off as a boast, but when Pinky and I visited Paris years ago we were fortunate enough to go inside the cathedral and climb the tower.” 

“Really!” Wakko exclaimed, who was rather excited by Brain’s vacation story. “Oh, do you have any pictures?”

“Well of course! Just let me just find the vacation album on my phone.” Brain said, as he tried to retrieve his smartphone from his pocket. 

“Oh, I forgot to mention how wonderful the crepes were!” Wakko added. “I had strawberry crepes, banana and nutella crepes, some egg and cheese crepes,”

But Wakko’s infodumping came to a crashing halt when Yakko stormed over to the table. “Wakko, did you take the last pig in a blanket?” The Warner brother interrogated. 

The middle Warner sibling glanced guiltily towards Brain then back at their sibling. “Maybe?” The eldest Warner still held his suspicious glare at him, until Wakko finally gave in. “Yeah…” 

“I knew it!” Yakko declared as he proceeded to put his sibling in a headlock, dragging them away from the table and into the center of the room. Wakko broke free and a battle between the older Warner siblings broke out. 

“Oh, this oughta be rich!” Dot devilishly commented. She quickly grabbed her smartphone from her pocket and filmed the action. 

Pinky was thrilled by the sudden action and further enabled the sibling rivalry. “Go, go! Give ‘em the ol’ one-two!” The mouse laughed maniacally as he punched the air. “Narf!”

Brain ruefully shook his head at the sibling shenanigans that took place. The small mouse knew better than to get involved, lest he wanted to be squished like a pancake or smacked so hard that he would crash onto the drywall. He found himself all alone again. He finished up his plate of appetizers when he noticed the new CEO, Rita Nortia, taking her place on the other side of the table. 

The mouse suddenly felt compelled to speak with her. After all, she did play a significant part in hiring him and Pinky back for the reboot when they could have been cast off like the majority of his fellow cast members from the original show. 

“Alright Brain, this is going to be a long party and you have to at least try to be sociable.” He told himself. The mouse then took a considerably long sip of wine to work the courage to speak to his new boss. 

“Hello, Ms. Nortia.” Brain addressed, trying his best to sound friendly. 

The CEO looked over at the mouse with an indifferent expression. “Wait a minute, I know you, you’re one of the mice playing second fiddle to those pesky Warners….Bran, is it?”

“Actually, it’s The Brain,” The mouse corrected, but suddenly changed his tone as he did not want to come off as bossy in front of his boss. “but I’m perfectly content with being addressed as Brain, if that’s most convenient for you. A-and I wanted to thank you again for including Pinky and myself in the reboot.” 

“Sure, sure. You two were one of the more memorable parts of the original show.” Rita Norita replied, sounding rather unenthused. After a moment of awkward silence between the two, the CEO spoke up again. “Was there anything else you wanted to say?” 

Brain was sweating nervously, feeling like a total waste of space. He could tell that she was a busy woman who was more occupied with work-related interests. The mouse tried his hardest to come up with an interesting topic of discussion. The weather? No, too cliche. The hottest Netflix shows? No way. He couldn’t bring up the competition in front of his boss. Those ridiculous Tik Tok videos that Pinky wouldn’t stop blabbering about? If he didn’t understand the appeal of those, what were the chances that the CEO would. The only other thing he could possibly bring up was-

“So, how about those sports?” Brain asked with a nervous smile. 

Rita Norita stared blankly at the mouse. “What about them.” 

Brain was caught tongue-tied. He didn’t know enough about the current state of any American sports team, so he decided to take a leap of faith and try to discuss the one sport he loved. 

“Well, uh, would you be interested in hearing about the beauty and intricacies of rhythmic gymnastics?” Brain asked with a sheepish smile. 

As the CEO was about to give another dry response, she was interrupted when a group of sharply dressed business people walked over to her. 

“Ms. Norita, we have some very important business information to discuss with you.” One of them said. 

“Finally, a riveting topic of discussion.” She exulted, immediately getting up from her seat. She shot a quick glance at the mouse. “You’ll have to excuse me, but I have more pressing matters to tend to.” 

The CEO left the table with the other white-collar workers, leaving Brain to his own devices. The mouse propped his head up as he stared into his empty plate of appetizers, desperately trying to forget the mortifying conversation. If dying from embarrassment was possible, then Brain would already be in Heaven surrounded by an angelic choir of Pinkys. 

“Hey Brain!” 

Upon hearing the cockney accent he was so familiar with, he looked over his shoulder only to find Pinky taking off his dress and diving straight into the punch bowl. Through the clear glass, Pinky was happily swimming underneath the punch for a few moments. Once he broke through the surface, the tall mouse was giggling contentedly and he propped himself up on the side of the bowl to talk to his roommate. 

“Oh Brain, you should try this!” The buck-toothed mouse called out. “The water is so refreshing!” 

“No thank you, Pinky.” Brain replied, shielding his face from his roommate. He took another peek at the taller mouse. Pinky looked like a complete buffoon, but he looked like he was having the time of his life, swimming in the punch bowl without a care in the world. Brain, on the other hand, felt completely lost and isolated despite being surrounded by a sea of party-goers. 

Brain walked away, trying his best to participate in small talk. Things seemed to look up when the Mime arrived. 

“I suppose making small talk with someone who can’t talk back is better than not making small talk at all.” Brain pondered. 

“You there, Mime!” Brain approached the silent performer. The Mime looked back at Brain and smiled back, giving him a friendly wave. The mouse’s self-esteem was starting to rebound. 

“Say, do you want to hear a science joke?” Brain asked. The Mime gave an eager nod in response. 

“Okay, well here it goes: One tectonic plate was walking along, bumps into another tectonic plate and said ‘Oops, sorry, my fault!’” Brain began to laugh heartily at his own joke, closing his eyes as he chuckled. 

Once his laughter wore off, Brain looked over at the Mime simply shook his head while wearing a confused frown, shaking his head. The mouse assumed that the Mime did not get the joke. 

The Brain felt defeated and gave a beleaguered sigh. “Well, I apologize for wasting your time.” The small mouse placed his hands into his pockets and walked off. 

The intelligent mouse felt lost. With no plan for world domination to focus on, there was no important reason to mingle with the other guests. He decided to find the Warners and seek companionship from them. But he was disappointed when he witnessed the three keeping Ralph occupied in an intense game of ‘Monkey in the Middle’. The Warners wore mischievous smiles as they threw the security guard’s cap around much to the frustration of the bumbling officer. Brain could not bring himself to join in their merriment. Without his robotic man-suit, he could not possibly bring any meaningful contribution to the fun and would only stick out as a useless fifth wheel. 

And he did not have the courage to try to strike up a friendly conversation with the other party-goers. His brief talks with Rita Norita and The Mime were proof that even when he shared his interests and musings to them, they could never reciprocate because they’re not on the same intellectual wavelength as he was. 

No, he was only fooling himself. Perhaps the reason why felt high and dry was that he just could not relate to other people. 

Brain watched Pinky, now back in his Christmas-themed dress, entertaining a few guests with his spit bubbles. The small group laughed at his ridiculous display. The taller mouse was completely in his element, charming people with his ‘fun-fun silly-willy’ antics. That feeble-minded fool made it look so easy. 

“Perhaps Pinky is better off with other people.” 

Brain furiously shook his head at the awful thought. “No, no, no. You’re just exhausted from attempting to socialize, that’s all.” He told himself. “Yes. All I need is a break, a place where I could temporarily wind down and recharge my energy before returning to the festivities.” 

Brain walked down the hall in search for a place to ponder. 

As he wandered down the hallway, he discovered an empty recreation room complete with a billiards table, a dart board, a stack of used board games, and a leather sofa. The pool table was pristine, with the fifteen balls gathered in their triangular shape and the cue ball standing on the other side. Brain decided to take the opportunity to play a game of pool against himself. The mouse picked up an unsharpened pencil from the bureau, climbed up the leg of the pool table and made his way to the top. 

The mouse hopped off the wooden edge and onto the green walked baize, the tender felt brushing up against his feet with each step. Once he approached the cue ball, the mouse used the unsharpened end of the pencil and struck the white ball as hard as he could. He was not surprised that the cue ball lightly struck the top third of the fifteen balls ever so slightly.

“This is going to take a while…” Brain muttered to himself. “Fortunately, I don’t have anything better to do.” 

The mouse observed the playing field, and noticed a solid red ball lingering near a corner pocket. Charging his pencil against the cue ball much harder this time, he saw the white ball glide down the table, hitting the red ball right into the pocket. Now all he had to do was strike the other solid-color balls into the pockets. 

Fifteen minutes had passed since he started his solitary game of pool, and he only had three balls left. Wiping off the beads of sweat from his forehead, he looked over at the clock that was perched above the sofa. The mouse doubted that the other party-goers would be aware of his absence. Maybe Pinky would be too busy mingling with the other guests to even realize that he was gone. 

“Some party, huh?” 

Brain was startled at the sudden inquiry, his ears perking upwards. He turned around only to find Yakko Warner leaning against the doorway.

“Yakko….” The mouse grumbled. He feared that the boy would continue teasing him by bringing up the incident under the mistletoe. “Shouldn’t you be off terrorizing a certain psychiatrist?”

“Oh, you mean Dr. Scratchinsniff? He won’t be dropping by until around seven.” The eldest Warner sibling explained as he waltzed into the room. “So what are you doing here all by your lonesome?”

“As a reserved and introverted soul, social gatherings aren’t my cup of tea.” Brain confessed. “If world domination was on the line, then I would be more involved. But being forced to make idle prattle with co-workers in a secluded space can be quite tiresome.” 

“I gotcha.” Yakko nodded, seeming to understand Brain’s plight. 

“And how did someone as sociable as yourself wander astray from the festivities?” Brain inquired. 

“I had to use the john.” Yakko answered frankly, pointing his thumb towards the door. “I was going to return to the party, but I heard the sound of a pool game going on and just had to investigate.” 

“Excellent detective work, Hercule Yakko.” Brain remarked, to which Yakko chuckled in response. 

“Say, can I join in?” The eldest Warner asked as he walked over to the racks. “It’s been a while since I played pool and you look like you could use a little company.” 

“The more the merrier.” Brain dryly responded as he struck the cue ball with his pencil. 

Yakko found a suitable cue stick and walked over beside Brain. He observed the pool table, noting the striped balls outnumbered the solid balls. 

“So I’ll be aiming for the striped ones then?” Yakko asked. 

“Correct.” Brain responded defeatedly. While he wished to finish up his solo game, he didn’t have it in him to tell the eldest Warner to leave. 

Yakko carefully aimed his cue rack at the cue ball and fired away. He managed to hit two striped balls straight into the pocket. He then made another successful shot and hit two more striped balls into the opposite pocket. Feeling confident and theatrical, Yakko turned around and managed to hit another striped ball into a pocket without looking. He looked over at the playing field and back at The Brain. “Well, you got trouble my friend.” He quipped. 

Brain looked up at Yakko for a moment before looking back at the pool with a grimace. After a moment of awkward silence, the eldest Warner spoke up again “Get it? Because we’re playing pool and I was referring to-”

“Yes, yes, I’ve seen The Music Man before Yakko, there’s no need to explain the joke.” Brain interrupted. 

“So was the joke not funny?” Yakko asked with a twinge of worry. 

“The joke was perfectly fine.” Brain assured upon noticing the boy’s sudden anxiousness. “I’m simply frustrated with my current state in the game and fear that the outcome won’t be in my favor.” 

“Oh, is it because you’re a mouse? I can try to make some accommodations so that we’re playing on even grounds.” Yakko kindly suggested. 

“No, no. The last thing I want is to be patronized and pitied.” Brain snapped, sounding more harsh than he intended. 

Yakko backed off upon seeing the mouse’s frustration.“Okay, whatever floats your boat.” He replied defensively. 

Brain’s face softened a bit, feeling guilty that he was a bit too hard on the boy. “If it’s any consolation, I have problems with my joke deliveries as well.” Brain lamented. “I tried telling The Mime a science joke earlier, but it fell flat.” 

“Which one?” Yakko queried out of curiosity. 

Brain fought his insecurities and mustered up the courage to tell the joke again. “One tectonic plate was walking around, he bumps into another tectonic plate and said-”

“‘Oops, I’m sorry, my fault’!” Yakko enthusiastically joined in as the punchline was delivered. The boy clapped his hands and started chuckling. “Ah, natural disaster humor.” 

Brain softly smiled. Yakko missed this time around and Brain hopped back on the table, figuring out the best course of action to keep up with Yakko’s pool playing. After a couple minutes of playing in companionable silence, the intelligent mouse decided to throw an ice-breaker question to liven the mood. 

“So Yakko, how have you and your siblings been doing lately?” The Brain asked in earnest. 

“We’ve been doing swell!” Yakko answered in a chipper tone. “I mean, sure, we had our fair of challenges adapting to the current trends after being frozen in suspended animation for twenty-two years, but what can ya do?”

Brain looked a little concerned at the boy. The last time he and Pinky saw the Warners was in 1998, when they attended a cast party after filming of Wakko’s Wish had wrapped. During those years, Brain was consumed with his contributions to the age of the internet while Pinky attended his therapy sessions. All that time spent focusing on his world domination scheme and he forgot about his fellow cast members and all the good times they shared together. When Brain and Pinky received the fateful phone call from Warner Brothers that they and the Warners would be the only returning cast members for the Animaniacs reboot, he was worried that they would be mad at him for not keeping in touch. But when they arrived on set, the Warners were simply happy to see them again. But the Brain lost his train of thought when he heard Yakko speak up again. 

“Not to mention the staggering amount of pop culture we’ve missed out on.” Yakko added. “Hey, did you know that there were two movie adaptations of How The Grinch Stole Christmas within the span of two decades?”

“Oh I’m well aware of that. Pinky actually dragged me to see both movies in the theaters.” Brain recalled. “And as you would expect, the feeble-minded fool thought they were cinematic masterpieces.” 

“Outside of trying to stay relevant, we’ve been doing some fun sibling projects on the side, like this sculpture of Giuseppe Acrimboldo made entirely out of fruit!” Yakko happily reminisced.

“You mean, the famous sixteenth century Italian mannerist portrait artist Giuseppe Acrimboldo?” Brain inquired enthusiastically. 

“Yeah, I managed to get a picture before that awful bun infestation got to him.” Yakko grabbed his phone and showed a picture of their sculpture. 

“That’s quite impressive.” Brain marveled. While the mouse was not present during the awful bun infestation, he had heard stories of the incident from his co-workers. He could only imagine Pinky having a field day with the mass quantities of bunnies.

“I even had a whole song written about him too!” Yakko added. 

“Well, I’m always eager to hear another one of your classic educational ditties, Yakko.” Brain encouraged. “I’m all ears.” 

“I would if I could, but I forgot the majority of the lyrics.” Yakko forlornly replied. He picked up his cue rack and strategically planned his next move. 

“Oh..” Bran uttered. The mouse tried to find another topic to bring up, but couldn’t help but think about the Warner siblings being locked away from the world for the second time. The mouse tried to bring up the topic as delicately as he could. 

“Forgive me for prying, but can I ask you a question concerning your 22 year absence.” Brain carefully inquired. 

“Sure!” Yakko acknowledged as he struck the cue ball, hitting the eight ball into the pocket and winning the game.

“Do you recall anything during your hibernation?” The mouse questioned. 

“No, not really. The only thing I could remember was what happened before. After Wakko’s Wish wrapped, some studio bigwigs came up to me and my sibs. We were given the choice to either be cryogenically frozen or to be locked in the tower again. After thinking it over, I decided that being frozen in suspended animation was the better option. And the process wasn’t all that bad. It was like taking a really long nap.” Yakko answered truthfully. “And let me tell you, being frozen was a walk in the park compared to being trapped in the water tower for over sixty years.” 

Brain’s ears drooped when he heard the sadness laced in Yakko’s voice. 

“I love my sibs and would risk my life for them, but it was really hard having to watch over them without any assistance from the adults for decades.” The boy confessed. “I mean, I managed to get by just fine, but it was neither a bed or roses nor a pleasure cruise. During those years I had to come up with different ways to entertain my sibs and keep them occupied. I didn’t want them to start thinking about whether or not people missed them or were even aware that they’ve been cooped up for so long. One could say being trapped in that tower felt like-”

“Being an animal in a cage.” Brain quietly finished, feeling a deep sense of empathy for the boy. 

Yakko stared at the mouse, amazed by how understanding he was of his past trauma. “Well, yeah…” 

The Brain drew in a long breath and exhaled. “Believe it or not, I understand where you’re coming from.” He confessed, sitting on the edge of the pool table and holding the pencil in his arms.

The mouse could not believe what he was doing. In any other circumstance, Brain would never open up to his co-workers about his feelings or the past traumas he endured. Opening up meant being vulnerable. Being vulnerable meant feeling helpless and without control. He gripped the pencil tightly at the thought of not being completely in charge of himself. But Brain fought against his need to put up defensive barriers and decided to reveal his miserable and pitiful past if it meant providing the boy with some sense of solidarity. 

“I was once a young field mouse who lived a carefree and happy existence with my parents out in the wild.” Brain reminisced. “But I was separated from my family at a tender age when a group of Acme Lab scientists abducted me from my tin-can home. From that day forward, I was imprisoned in the laboratory where I was subjected to cruel, emotionally-scarring experiments and used as fodder in the name of science and human curiosity.” His voice trembled as he exposed his past to the eldest Warner, but he soldiered on. 

“The first friend I ever made was a hamster named Snowball, but when we went through the gene splicer, it had different effects on us. I gained advanced intelligence, while Snowball went mad with power, and we had a terrible falling out. But when it seemed that I was doomed to live the rest of my days isolated in the lab…” Brain paused for a moment and then continued. “But one day, a new lab mouse brought over to live with me in my cage. It was at that moment that Pinky entered into my life and...well, the rest is history.” He explained with a sad smile. 

Yakko listened in with sympathetic ears. He never thought that anyone could relate to the pain of having his freedom stripped away and being locked against his will. But he also admired the mouse’s courage to tell his story anyways. 

“Pinky really was my saving grace.” Brain admitted, aware of the affection in his tone. “His presence made being stuck in the lab more bearable. Sure, he may be imbecilic and dim-witted, but he’s also loyal, compassionate, and the best friend I could ever ask for.” After praising Pinky’s positive aspects, Brain’s smile slowly faded. “But sometimes I wonder why Pinky would want to be my friend, and other times where I feel like I don’t deserve to be his friend.” 

“Well, how come?” Yakko cautiously inquired. 

“Years ago, I promised Pinky that if I ruled the world, I would make it into a better place. A kinder place for social outcasts and marginalized individuals like him. But after so many years of trying and putting in the work, my destiny is still far from reach. And yet, he’s still standing by my side. It’s just...I don’t know what Pinky sees in me.” Brain sadly explained as he cradled the pencil in his arms. “Perhaps he’s much better off without me…” He sighed, letting the awful confession escape his lips. 

Yakko sadly frowned at the downtrodden mouse, but he quickly knew how to cheer him up. “Oh I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” 

“Well why not?” The mouse somberly asked. 

“Maybe the reason why Pinky is attached to the hip is because he loves you.” Yakko suggested. 

“Perhaps he does. His unquestioning loyalty to me is proof of that.” Brain pondered aloud. 

“...and that you love him back.” Yakko added with a sly smile. 

“What?” Brain cried out, sharply turning his head to face Yakko. “That’s preposterous! I don’t love Pinky, I merely….tolerate him.”

“Uh huh,” Yakko nodded, not buying his co-worker’s fib. “I guess your toleration must be pretty strong then.” 

Yakko placed the cue stick on the side of the pool and walked over towards the mouse.“I mean, who else would sacrifice their chance at world domination on Christmas, go to the depths of h-e-double hockey sticks to save the guy after he sold his soul so you could rule the world, reunite him with his entire family after years of separation, save him from quicksand by embracing your wild side, teach him about the Constitution and upholding the values that make up our country’s democracy, and tend to his aid after the poor guy got pulverized by some crummy humans.” The eldest Warner detailed as he counted all of Brain’s deeds on each finger. Brain’s ears drooped as he heard him recall all of his past heroics when it came to helping the friend he loved so dearly. 

“That’s going above and beyond for someone you merely tolerate, don’t you think?” Yakko concluded. 

“W-who told you all that?” Brain blurted in disbelief. 

“Pinky did.” Yakko answered honestly. “Why, just a few minutes after you left, Pinky started talking about all the great and amazing things you did for him. If you don’t believe me, the proof is in the pudding.” He fished out his phone from his pocket and showed Brain a video, with Pinky’s gleaming smile on the thumbnail. Yakko pressed play. 

Pinky was gathered around a few of the party guests on the couch. Wakko and Dot sat closely by his left, and Jay Pac Le East Tha Rapper by his right. 

“Poit! And when it came down to choosing the world or me, Brain chose me and decided to compete in rhythmic gymnastics to save my soul!” Pinky explained enthusiastically to his enchanted audience. “Oh you should have seen Brain! He looked so stunning in his marvelous blue spandex, prancing about oh so gracefully with his string-on-a-stick, and he scored a perfect ten! But that awful, no-good Mr. Itch cheated by rigging the competition in his favor and it seemed like Brain and I were doomed to be separated forever!”

Wakko and Dot gasped in shock and instinctively grabbed onto each other for comfort. Even Jay Pac was deeply invested in the story. 

“But it turned out that he didn’t deliver on his original promise to give me my radish rose whatchamawhozit, so I was able to be with Brain again!” Pinky happily concluded. 

Wakko stood up and applauded. “Oh how I love a happy ending!” 

“Wow, my respect for Brain just went through the roof.” Jay Pac commented. 

“You know, I never realized how cool Brain was until just now.” Dot admitted. 

“He sure is!” Pinky gushed. “Brain is smart, he never gives up on his dreams, he wants what’s best for the world, and he’s the best friend I could ever ask for. Zort! I love him so much, and I know that he loves me too!” 

“Pinky, can you tell us another story about The Brain?” Wakko asked enthusiastically, like a child wanting to hear another bedtime story. 

“Pretty please, Pinky!!” Dot begged, giving her cutest pout and fluttering her puppy-dog eyes. 

“Of course!” Pinky answered gleefully as he leapt up in the air and landed back on the couch. “Oh! I should tell you all about the time he helped me reunite with my mum, my dad, and my sis!”

As the video ended, tears started to pool in Brain’s eyes. He roughly scrubbed them away before they could fall, not allowing himself to become more vulnerable than he already felt. “Perhaps I don’t just tolerate him. Dare I say, I even like Pinky.” Brain half-confessed. He knew that he loved Pinky dearly, but he would never bring himself to verbalize his feelings. 

“Actions speak louder than words, buddy.” Yakko retorted. “But I totally get where you’re comin’ from, though. Wakko and Dot mean the world to me.” 

“Even though you wrestled your own sibling over something as petty as taking the last of your favorite appetizer?” Brain mentioned sardonically. 

“Alright, so I have a problem managing my Cain instinct, guilty as charged.” Yakko answered. 

“Sure, we drive each other bonkers sometimes, but at the end of the day, they’re still my sibs and I love them more than they could even know.” The boy smiled as he talked about his dearest siblings. 

“But I still can’t help but wonder, what might happen in the future, after the reboot.” Yakko pondered with concern. “What if Wakko and Dot decide to go out in the world and do their own thing? Would they still need me? Would they want me around? And I don’t know how I’d do without ‘em because they’re the only family I’ve got.” 

Brain felt his heart go out to Yakko. While the boy can be a nuisance and a smart alec, there was a lot of good in him. But he could also understand the boy’s fears. Yakko was as strongly attached to his siblings and his whole life revolved maintaining that relationship. The mouse pondered to himself until he found the best way to alleviate the boy’s worries. 

The small mouse walked over to the eldest Warner brother and gently placed his hand on top of his. “Well, there may come a time when the three of you will go your separate ways and lead  independent lives, but no matter how far apart you are, you’ll always maintain that strong familial bond.” 

Yakko gave Brain an intrigued look. “What makes you so sure?” 

“Pinky and I raised a son together.” Brain answered with a small smile. 

“Since when?” Yakko asked with a baffled look on his face. 

“It happened back in the late 90s. Roman Numeral One, or Romy for short. I initially planned to make a clone of myself and use him for global conquest, but one of Pinky’s errant toenails was muddled in with my DNA sample, thus creating a clone that modeled after the two of us.” Brain explained, still smiling as he reminisced. “Once Romy reached the age of reason, he departed from the lab and moved on to make a life for himself. Fortunately, Pinky and I are still on good terms with our son, and we would call him every now and again, just to see how he’s doing. And even though our boy is out in the world pursuing his own dreams, we still love him dearly and learned to maintain our familial bond despite the long distance between us.”

“So whatever happens in the future, I’m certain that you and your siblings will still be as thick as thieves.” Brain assured, giving the eldest Warner sibling reassuring pats on his hand. Yakko smiled back at the mouse’s kind gesture.

“But if you’re still uncertain about the future, I’ll guarantee this to you,” Brain added. “If I become the ruler of- no, no. When I become the ruler of the world, my palace doors will always be open for you and your siblings. And if any of you ever feel lost or lonely, Pinky and I will be more than willing to grant you companionship.” Brain offered his small hand out to the boy. 

Yakko was eager with the proposition. “Well Brain, I was already rooting for you to take over the world, but now I’m twice as invested! You got yourself a deal!” The eldest Warner enthusiastically shook the mouse’s hand. The Brain gave a hearty chuckle, amazed at the boy’s excitement and encouragement. 

“And Brain,” Yakko looked at the small mouse. “I’m really glad we had this talk...and thanks for everything.” 

Brain could tell that Yakko rarely opened up about his personal issues and musings to others, so not to trouble them or cause concern. But he could tell just how grateful the boy was for understanding and providing him with the comfort he needed. 

“You’re welcome, Yakko.” Brain quietly replied. 

“Well, I think that’s enough emotionally heavy conversations for one night.” Yakko commented, trying to sound as laid-back as possible. 

“Agreed. You know, I think I’m ready to return to the party and make a more admirable attempt at socializing.” Brain said with confidence. 

“That’s the spirit!” Yakko praised, giving him a thumbs up. 

As Brain and Yakko were putting away the billiards equipment, they heard three sets of footsteps approaching the rec room. Sure enough, it was Pinky, followed by Wakko and Dot. 

“Oh, there you two are! Narf!” Pinky exclaimed. 

“So this is where you two have been.” Dot addressed her brother and the mouse. 

“Yep, just us guys playing some pool.” Yakko answered half-honestly as he gestured towards his smaller companion. “You could say that we were getting along swimmingly.” 

Upon hearing the dad joke, Wakko and Dot retrieved their pun guns and shot their older brother on sight. Brain saw the yellow lasers fly through the room and hit Yakko, causing him to fall over on impact. The mouse looked on with concern. 

“I’m fine.” Yakko assured The Brain despite the obvious pain he was in. 

Brain returned his attention to his roommate and the other Warner siblings. “So what shenanigans have you three rascals been up to during our absence?” He inquired. 

“We gained access to the CEO’s movie screening room!” Dot answered. 

“There’s a big screen tv, a comfy leather couch, a snack bar, and everything!” Wakko added enthusiastically.

“Good work sibs!” Yakko complimented as he got back up on his feet. 

“Troz! And now that we found you two, we can all go there and watch The Grinch together!” Pinky joyfully declared. 

“Which one?” Yakko and The Brain asked in unison, knowing that there were multiple adaptations of the classic story and both secretly hoping that it was the 1966 animated special.

“The animated one, of course!” Pinky cheerfully replied.

“You need to be more specific, Pinky.” Brain added, praying that his friend was referring to the classic television special as opposed to the bland Illumination movie. 

“Oh, it’s the one with the Boris Karloff narration and the lovely songs!” Pinky gushed as he hugged himself. 

“Thank Heavens.” Brain replied, relieved that his roommate was referring to the former. “We would be delighted to accompany you three, right Yakko?”

“Oh absolutely!” Yakko replied. He carefully picked up Brain and placed him in the palm of his left hand before walking over to the others. He then knelt down and offered Pinky a ride on his right hand, to which he happily accepted. 

As Yakko followed his younger siblings to the private theater, he joined his hands together, bridging the divide between the two laboratory mice. Pinky immediately leapt over to Brain, enveloping him in a warm and welcoming hug. Brain decided not to recoil from Pinky’s affection and accepted the embrace. 

“Oh it’s good to see you again Brain!” Pinky exclaimed. “I missed you so much since you left, and I was getting worried that I was never going to see you again.” 

“It’s good to see you too, Pinky.” Brain kindly remarked. “I just needed to recharge after socializing. You know that I would never abandon my best friend in the whole world, right?”

“Your best friend? Where?” Pinky shouted worriedly as he looked over each shoulder.

Brain rolled his eyes at his friend’s stupidity. “It’s you, Pinky. In addition to being my roommate and my assistant, you’re my best friend in the whole world.”

“Naarf.” Pinky awed, his eyes glistening with wonder. Overwhelmed with joy, the taller mouse decided to give his intelligent roommate an extra squeeze. “Well what a coincidence! It just so happens that you’re my best friend in the whole world, Brain!” 

“I know, Pinky.” Brain muttered as he patted the taller mouse’s back. “I know.” 

Unbeknownst to both mice, the Warners smiled warmly as they witnessed the sweet exchange. 

The Warners and the lab mice entered the private theater. Dot retrieved Pinky and the two went over to the couch, where she placed a pillow over her lap, giving Pinky a place to sit. Brain managed to get the Blu-Ray player running as Wakko grabbed a stockpile of snacks. Yakko turned off the lights to provide a more theatrical experience. Yakko carefully held Brain as he plopped down on the couch, sitting between his younger siblings. Yakko moved his hand over to Dot, who gently held Brain before placing him on the pillow alongside Pinky.

As the Christmas special started, Pinky scooted over to Brain to sit closer to him. Feeling Pinky’s presence and taking into account that they were nearly enveloped in darkness, Brain lifted himself and placed a gentle kiss on Pinky’s cheek. After settling himself back down, he carefully wrapped his arm around his roommate’s waist and pulled him closer. The taller mouse was taken aback by his roommate’s actions. Pinky stared at his best friend, who lovingly gazed at him with a soft smile. Brain couldn’t verbalize the love he held for Pinky, but he hoped his kind physical gestures spoke a thousand words. Pinky beamed at Brain in response and wrapped his arm around him. The two mice continued to gaze into each other’s eyes for a few moments longer before returning their attention to the television. 

Additional AN: Looking back on Animaniacs and the Pinky and the Brain spin-off as a person in her late-twenties, I’ve become fully aware of how both The Brain and Yakko deeply care about their loved ones to the point where they’re scared of the thought of being separated from them or seeing them hurt in any way. 

Yakko is so attached to Wakko and Dot, pretty much raised them at the tender age of 14, so I feel like he would have this lingering fear of being alone. Whether he’s separated from them or has the idea that they wouldn’t need him anymore. The reboot establishes Yakko’s insecurities of caring about what other people think and that he may not be as funny as he presents himself to be. I found this to be a fascinating aspect of his character, and I wanted to play around with that in the fic. 

The Brain, on the other hand, loves Pinky. Even if he can’t bring himself to admit it due to how emotionally constipated he is, his actions speak for him. Brain reading Pinky’s letter to Santa and being so moved that Pinky thinks so highly of him and is so supportive of him that he backs out of taking over the world even though he had the whole world under his command, The Brain literally going to hades to bring Pinky back because being the ruler of the world isn’t the same without him, Brain going out of his way to reunite Pinky with his family (even if it was for a scheme) and even using the gene splicer on them so they could understand each other, and Brain tending to Pinky’s aid when he’s beaten up by humans for being a mouse and changing his motives of world conquest to make the world and better and kinder place for Pinky and others who feel small. The reboot also has more moments where Brain chooses Pinky over a future version of himself, rescuing Pinky from being enslaved by a power-hungry toddler, and even trying to comfort him the best he could after his monster wife ran off with the other monster and the two of them perished upon falling down. There are also a lot of great hints of a slow-burn romance between the two, but I’m getting ahead of myself there. 

The biggest challenge I had writing this story that followed the lore of the characters. One headcanon I played around with is that Pinky and the Brain work as part-time actors and that the majority of the skits (especially the history-based ones) were made for the show, while the events that took place in Pinky and the Brain spin-off and certain episodes from the reboot (Of Mice and Memes,Future Brain, and Roadent Trip) actually occurred in the show’s universe. 

Also there are aspects of the reboot that I purposefully left out, such as Brain being super evil and Pinky being a passive enabler(*cough cough* episodes 3 and 8 *cough cough*) and Pinky having daddy issues since they conflict with their established characterizations from the PATB spin-off. 

I also wanted to provide some sort of explanation as to what the Warners were up to during the past 22 years. So I figured that having them frozen in suspended animation was the more logical choice. I also came up with the idea that they had to choose between staying frozen or being locked in the water tower again for added drama. 

Overall, I had a lot of fun writing this story. It’s been a long time since I last publicly published fanfiction since there was a lot going on in my personal life and I was too busy and I didn’t feel entirely motivated to write. But upon rewatching old episodes of Pinky and the Brain, Animaniacs, and watching season one of the Animaniacs reboot has reawakened my creative muse and motivated me to write, and I do plan on writing more stories centered around these characters. 

Please leave a review if you can! Thanks for reading!

[jincherie]

fox rain | five

• ☽ — pairing: bts x reader • ☽ — genre: crack, fluff, angst, college/uni au • ☽ — words: 9.9k+ • ☽ — rating: sfw • ☽ — warnings: stop two on the angst train express!!! not as blatant, more reading between the lines here...... have fun! • ☽ — notes: bros... it’s only downhill from here. cowa-fucking-BUNGA amirite cowboys???????!?!?

— posted; 18.09.2020

When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

— • masterpost | prev. | five | next • —

You lay in a sort of placid, bewildered shock, the kind that is sourced from confusion as opposed to an unpleasant surprise. After waking to blearily turn off your alarm before it blasted through the entirety of Dancing Lasha Tumbai, you’d unlocked your phone to find this curious set of messages from a number you haven’t saved. You’ve been lying in place for several minutes as your tired, wired brain slowly kicks into gear and attempts to debunk the mystery. After another unsuccessful few minutes of staring blankly at the screen, you’re saved from impending cranial combustion when your phone lets out a delightful little tinkle and another message hastily joins the others.  

Ah, that makes so much sense now! Except it doesn’t. Actually, it kind of adds to your bewilderment. Taehyung… is texting you? You don’t think you’ve ever in your life had any correspondence with him that didn’t either take place in the presence of Jimin or under the influence of alcohol… also in the presence of Jimin, now that you think of it. You haven’t really interacted with Taehyung outside of Jimin. So it is particularly odd to wake up to a series of messages that are from him, and pertaining to such an odd topic. You’re still so tired you can’t even fathom what would warrant a text from him. Maybe you dropped something at one of your tutoring sessions and Jimin asked him to give it back to you? It would make sense, since after the rollercoaster of a ride the last week has been for him (in particular, the questionable events that took place at the hands of one Kim Seokjin but somehow ended up with Jimin and Hoseok making up? You don’t really understand it but you’re not even going to bother to try to at this point) he has ended up a little preoccupied.

Tapping the screen when your inactivity leads it to go dark, you take a moment to scrounge a response from the empty barrel bottom that is your brain. Once satisfied, you drop your phone onto your bed and flop yourself back to the position you’d been in before your own alarm woke you so rudely. Technically, you don’t have to be up and about for another hour…

With faith that your additional hour of sleep will revive your ability to think, you allow yourself to slip somewhat self-indulgently back into sleep and pass the fuck out like a woman who has spent the night trying to forget.

(Which you are, and did do, except with maybe a little less alcohol than what that sentence implied.)

X     X     X     X

 It has been almost a week since the unfortunate end to that tutoring session on Monday, and while you’ve managed to stay off social media enough that you haven’t triggered yourself by accident in the entirety of that duration, every time you come on campus it’s like for however many steps forward you took, you take double the amount backwards. University students are such gossips! Well, the jobless ones are, anyway. The students that work and study are too busy dragging themselves around campus in a stunning rendition of the undead from various media to be bothered with the latest plot twist in the resident school drama. Which is to say, there has been no twist. The population is still shamelessly up Sera’s ass in the belief that she is the author of the poem, and as has become the norm you find yourself resisting the urge to hunt the bitch down and go in for round two on her face. Surely, your self-control has earnt you the title of a saint by now.

You’re blasting some angsty shit on the way to your music history class and pretending you’re in a music video for some indie band (it’s cathartic, and you will argue that fact to your grave), when you make it a few steps past the entrance to the food court and have the absolute living daylights scared out of you. Thudding footsteps reach you through your earphones and two hands clamp on your shoulders to halt you in place and spin you around like Barbie Ballerina.

“You’re a disgrace!” It’s Seokjin who has halted you in the middle of the hallway, every bit as dramatic as you’d come to expect. “You skipped drama class? And you call yourself an acting major, PSH!”

Yanking your earphones out, you nail the tall, pink-haired idiot with a glare. Very bold of him to be approaching you after you nearly chopped off Lil’ Jinnie barely a few days ago for his bastardous antics. Perhaps he’s getting a bit big for his glittery pink rainboots.

“First of all, will you please listen to me when I tell you I’m not an acting major?” Unfortunately, when you speak your voice comes out more exasperated and less threatening than you intended. “Second of all—very bold of you to be approaching me right now. You’re lucky you escaped with your life, you meddling bastard. You want me to bite the rest of your dick off?”

“You should know by now that I take that as a compliment,” Seokjin sniffs, haughtily, ignoring the latter part of your threat. “And do you know how boring it is for me to crash your class when you’re not even there? No one threatens me like you! It’s getting harder and harder to get it up these days, you know. I need a hit of the good stuff.”

For a moment you’re simply stunned into silence, staring at him and wondering just how and why he seems to have been sent here with the sole mission of making you want to kill him and then yourself. Nothing you could think to say really is enough, so you settle on simply turning and walking away.

Of course, you forgot that no one turns their back on Kim Seokjin and gets away with it.

“YAH!”

You wince—you think he actually just broke a sound barrier, or maybe your eardrums— or both. Seokjin quickly scrambles to place himself in front of you, arms out. His eyes are wide in something you suspect he thinks is a puppy-eyed look, but actually comes across more like he’s trying not to shit himself.

“Promise me you won’t skip drama again!” Seokjin says, pointing a finger at you in borderline accusation. When he doesn’t see your expression budge, he quickly changes tactics. “If not for me, the most charming prince in the story of your life, then at least for Jungkook, that poor virgin—”

You blink, distracted for a moment by what he said. “Wait, Jungkook is in my drama class?”

“’Wait, Jungkook is in my drama class?’” Seokjin repeats in a voice a few octaves higher than your own. “Listen to you, not even knowing who is in your own class. For shame! But have no fear, since you clearly skip so much I will happily extend my generosity and take you under my wing. Tutelage fee starts at $55 with an extra $5 for every question you ask that I don’t know—”

“Do you ever actually hear yourself talk?” you ask, feeling your will to live draining out your ears. “Like, the shit that comes out of your mouth? Do you hear it? Because—wait, are you saying you would charge me for questions that you don’t know the answer to?!”

Seokjin shrugs, “It’s a little unorthodox, I know. But—”

“I would literally be bankrupt! Thousands—no, millions of dollars in debt!” You exclaim, grabbing him by his stupid big shoulders and shaking him about. “Do I look crazy to you?!”

“Oh, what, you think you can do better?!” Seokjin demands, voice wobbling from your shaking. “What’s 2x2?”

“Fucking four!” you wail, releasing him in your despair. You can’t do this, your day only just started and you are not exhausted enough to micronap while he talks like usual. “I’m leaving, don’t follow me. DELETE MY NUMBER.”

“Haha jokes on you!” you hear Seokjin holler from behind you, voice rapidly growing quieter from the speed that you’re powerwalking away. “You never gave me your number!”

You make it to class barely on time due to Seokjin acting as one of the biggest inconveniences in your life, and while you manage to push him from your brain for the duration of it, you wish you could say that is the last time you see him,

It’s probably the fact that you busted his ass being a weirdo with Jimin and Hoseok last week that has him so…. attached this week, you suspect. You’re at your third Seokjin encounter for the day and you’re honestly considering whether you should trip to the campus pharmacy and look for some pepper spray, or maybe an umbrella. Pepper spray would be more effective, but the umbrella…. You can’t argue against the satisfaction it would provide.

You’re trying to sneak your way into a library on the Arts side of campus, one you don’t usually go to, so you can study without worrying about going absolutely batshit insane in the presence of Seokjin. It was hard, but you think that you’ve finally managed to shake him. What on earth had him so determined to tail you today? Was it seriously because you skipped your own class? Nutcase.

You peek your head around the corner looking not only for Seokjin, but for another thing you had happened to notice every time you were ambushed. You have yet to determine whether the glimpse of phenomenally bright floral print right before Seokjin pounces you is causation or correlation, and it makes you a bit nervous. Cautiously, like timid forest animal, you creep around the corner and begin to make your way into the building, eyes flicking from the library door right at the end to the rest of your surroundings. The café coming up on your right tempts you greatly, but you know it is too great of a risk. Out in the open, you’d definitely be seen.

This area is almost like a courtyard, an undercover area between three separate buildings. With a looming cement and glass ceiling, though, it feels like a building of its own. The library sits nestled in the corner of the largest building, and although it isn’t very wide, it spans several floors. You plan on going to the highest one and hiding in a corner near a window.

You’re close, so close to reaching the library in fact that you’ve fallen into a false sense of security. By the time you register the sound of pounding footsteps approaching behind you, for the second time today, it’s too late.

“Ah, y/n! Wait!”

Instinctively you prepare to burst into a sprint to get away, but at the last second stop yourself. That doesn’t sound like Seokjin… that sounds like—

“Taehyung?” you ask, turning in surprise as the boy comes to a screeching halt in front of you, bending with his hands on his knees as he attempts to catch his breath.

“I’ve… been trying….” he huffs, “To talk to you…. all day….. hah…Why are you so….. good at running away?”

He looks absolutely wiped out, cheeks red and sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. You’re just beginning to feel guilty when you notice his shirt, the bright floral print that you literally don’t know anyone else bold enough to wear, and you realise he’s really not lying. Poor Taehyung, just like you he has fallen victim to—

“That Seokjin bastard,” you say, completing a quick scan of the area to make sure the mention of his name didn’t somehow summon him. “He’s been harassing me all day. I’ve had to really up my game. By the way… are you okay? Please breathe… also what did you want to talk to me about?”

Taehyung straightens, eyes closed as he attempts to control his breathing. One of his hands comes to sweep the ashy hair from his face, the ends slightly damp with sweat.

“I’m fine,” he says, sounding slightly like he’s about to pass out. You prepare to take a step forward and catch him if he does, but he opens his eyes in the next second and shoots you a dopey smile. “I’m fine! Apparently just… whoo… really out of shape.”

“Your sacrifice is not in vain,” you say, smiling when he lets out a sudden laugh. Another shaky breath rakes past his lips before he straightens, eyes blinking a little wider. “Ah, right. I was looking for you because, um… you didn’t respond to my text… and I needed to ask you something that’s a little time-sensitive…”

“Your text…” you wrack your brain, sure that you remembered responding to it this morning in bed. Your mouth shifts into a wince, though, when you can recall writing a response, but not actually sending it. “Oh. I am so sorry, I’m an idiot. I was kind of half asleep when you texted, and I swear to god I typed a response but I think I fell asleep again before sending it…”

There is not a shred of accusation on Taehyung’s pleasant features, lips instead slightly curled in a smile. “That’s fine,” he chirps, rocking on the balls of his feet for a moment. “I do it all the time too. I’m just glad I caught you.”

You return his smile, before a thought that had been nagging you earlier returned and you acted on the urge to voice it. “By the way…. How did you get my number?”

Your question seems to be unexpected and, for some reason, flusters him slightly. He reaches to scratch the back of his neck, averting his gaze for a moment. “Uh, Jimin gave it to me. It was for something stupid a while ago but I never needed to use it.”

You raise your brows at what he said, but get the feeling he’s not going to elaborate. Instead, you remain quiet and wait for him to continue his thought from earlier. He shuffles on his feet, returning his gaze to your own. “Anyway, the reason I was trying to catch you all day was because I wanted to ask you something…”

“I know it’s not really any of my business, but I kind of noticed, and Jimin mentioned lightly that things haven’t been, uh…. great for you lately.” He doesn’t even give you time for that statement to sink in amongst your shock, continuing without pause despite the way his cheeks begin to flush, “And, uh, my exhibition is this Friday, and I was gonna go with Jimin but he double-booked himself with Hobi, so now I have no plus-one and I was wondering… if you wanted to go?”

When you simply stand there, dumbfounded, he clears his throat awkwardly, fiddling with the cuffs of his button-down. “To um, you know, take your mind off things… maybe… you don’t have to, of course, but I just thought I would—”

Snapping out of your stupor before he can take back the invitation, you hastily step forward and outstretch your hands. “Oh, no I would love to go! This is really—” you clear your throat, trying to ignore the light sting of your eyes “—sweet of you. I’d like to go, if it’s ok. You’re sure Jimin doesn’t mind…?”

Taehyung seems shocked, and you suspect he might have thought you would turn down the invitation from the way his eyes seem to light up. Have you really been walking around campus looking like that much of a gloomy bitch? You need to check your facial expressions when you get home this afternoon.

“He won’t mind,” he says, waving his hand excitedly. “Great, perfect—um, here is the little info sheet. I’d stay to tell you more but my class actually started a few minutes ago, so…”

“Oh!” you exclaim, taking the sheet from his hand before waving him away. “Go! Go to class! I’m sorry I made you late! Thank you for this, by the way!”

He seems slightly dazed at your enthusiastic thanks and farewell, but he shakes himself out of it and before he goes he sends you a smile that you can’t think of any other way to describe except dazzling. “It’s no problem, y/n. See you then.”

And then he’s off and you’re left standing alone in the pseudo-courtyard, clutching the exhibition pamphlet in your grip. Your eyes sting ever so slightly, and you can’t help but think how kind of sad it is that one person goes out of their way to think of you in the midst of everything you’re dealing with and you’re so touched you’re nearly driven to tears.

Hormones suck and you want a refund.

 X     X     X     X

 Taehyung was right when he said that what he had to ask you was time-sensitive. 

You hadn’t realised it at the time, but Friday was only a few days away— and in the midst of classes, schoolwork, and everything else, those days went fast.  Before you know it, it’s Friday morning and a panicked glance at the pamphlet Taehyung had given you reveals that the exhibition opens officially around 4:30PM. That works out surprisingly well for you, considering your last class ends at three o’clock and you can easily reschedule your session with Hoseok and Jimin. 

There’s a lot about the invitation you haven’t gotten to really dwell on, and that continues to be the case as the day flies before your very eyes. By the time your music theory class comes to an end and you finish scribbling down the last few lines of note from your teacher, the event is even closer than you anticipated. From your recent examination of the pamphlet, you’d found earlier that Taehyung’s exhibition is being held at a small university-sponsored gallery downtown. It shouldn’t take you too long to get there from your house, and on the way home after packing your things, you plot out the route you’re going to take. It’s about a twenty minute trip, as you discover, since there is by some stroke of luck a bus that goes straight there from a street just around the corner from your own. Taking that into account, you should have around forty minutes or so to get ready. 

Considering you’re one of many poor university students populating the area, it’s not often you actually put the effort in to get dressed up. Around these parts, there is a distinct culture of sweat pants and comfortable tops and more often than not a socks-and-slides combo, something you take part in more often than you’d like to admit. Still, you feel that considering the nature of the event you’ve been invited to and what you know of Taehyung’s works, you should probably be putting in much more effort than usual. 

While you might act like a slob sometimes, this isn’t actually a problem— even goblins like you can have a stash of decent clothes somewhere in their cave. Yours happen to be pushed to the back of your closet on hangers that haven’t seen the light of day in months. What can you say? University takes its toll in mysterious ways. 

Standing before your closet, eyes boring into the portion that’s been held in its depths for longer than you can remember, you wonder which way you should go with your outfit. Exhibitions are fancy right? Should you dress it up? Logic says you should, but on the other hand what if you are the only one dressed up? That would be humiliating. You pause for a moment to think about the type of garb you usually see Taehyung in— you have a feeling that he will probably dress the same way tonight. Recalling his bold, avante-garde taste in fashion is about as helpful as one might imagine, but it does comfort you to know that no matter what you choose, most eyes will likely be on him anyway. 

Comforted by that fact, you make up your mind and pull out a set that isn’t too over the top, and won’t make you look like a rat. Once you’ve slipped into those, you freshen up and wash your face, trying to make yourself seem a little bit more alive afterwards and not like you had an 8AM class today. You’re successful, to a degree, but you’re a little tight on time so you can’t really dwell on it. Feeling your stomach rumble as you grab your bag and key, you can only hope that this exhibition has free food.

x — x — x

“Ah, y/n! You’re here! You… you look nice.”

You were so busy staring at the large, shiny building before you that when Taehyung’s voice rings out in greeting, it startles the hell out of you. You don’t even register what he says before you’re pointing with eyes and mouth wide open, “Your exhibition is in there?!”

His expression of surprise melts into one of amusement, a laugh tumbling from deep in his throat. You don’t even notice the way his cheeks are flushed ever so slightly as he meets your gaze.

“Fancy, right?” he says, wagging his brows. “Some loaded alumnus who actually enjoyed his university experience practically donated it to them. So now they use it for, uh… for most exhibitions.”

“For the best ones, you mean,” you say, your grin widening when he scratches the back of his neck, bashful and blushing. “But yeah, damn. I was expecting it to be nice but I wasn’t expecting it to be this nice.”

Taehyung laughed again, clearing his throat. As he takes a moment to collect himself, you let your eyes scan over his form. The second you do so, you feel a foreign flutter in your stomach, heat flushing to your face. There is truly no other way to describe his choice of outfit for today except for painfully boyfriend. Perhaps on anyone else it would look a little less than presentable, but on Taehyung’s model-esque form the loose chestnut pants and an oversized leather jacket over a boldly patterned shirt work wonders. How does he look so effortless yet so…?

If you’d attempted to wear something like that you’d end up looking like the local court jester. Perhaps you should just make peace with the fact that God has favourites and Kim Taehyung is clearly one of them. 

“It, um. It started a few minutes ago, shall we head in?”

Taehyung offers you his arm, a gentlemanly move that completely contrasts the boyish grin on his face. Ignoring the sudden sensations in your abdomen, you make a show of curtsey-ing before you take it, eliciting a laugh from your company as the two of you head to the entrance and the full exhibition experience begins. 

As soon as you enter there is someone by the door, who seems to be at the very least taking note of how many people enter, a table with flyers and booklets beside him. Taehyung parts from you only to move over and grab a few, brandishing them as he returns with a bright grin.

“Here is all the information about the event, madame,” he says, with an extremely exaggerated air of grandeur, presenting one of the flyers with a flourish. You take it, unable to help your soft snort.

“I would have thought I had something better, what with the very artist behind the event accompanying me,” you say, grinning when you see his cheeks turn an endearing pink as he flashes a bright, boxy smile. 

“True,” he returns, folding the other flyer and slipping it into the pocket of his jacket. “You can’t ask a flyer questions in real time. Anything that crosses your mind, you can ask straight to the source.”

“Oh? Then, may I enquire as to what the theme of this exhibition is?” You’re enjoying the playful air that drifts between you now, unable to rid your face of the smile currently displayed on it even if you wanted to.

Taehyung’s eyes flick to you, a lopsided smile tugging his lips to accompany the sly accent to his gaze. “Ah, a tough one right off the bat. I think telling you straight-up would be too easy. Let’s see if you can try to guess it as we walk through.”

You turn to him with an affronted look, having expected him to easily supply you with the answer. Taehyung is a little cheekier than you remember. You snap your mouth shut, cheeks heating when you notice he has offered his arm to you once more. Taking note of the other people in the room walking around in a similar manner, you slip your arm through his and try to ignore the way you feel your ears light on fire.

“Okay, you’re on,” you respond, if a few moments too late. He doesn’t comment on the delay, simply sending you a smile that you can’t quite decipher the emotion behind. You don’t get to dwell before the two of you are off, beginning on your journey through the building and starting on your tour of the exhibition. 

You’d kind of always known that Taehyung was talented, considering he managed to make such a name for himself on campus in such little time with such ease. Hell, he’s well-known enough to have made it onto the list of suspects for the muse of your poem. Still, this knowledge is only compounded the further into the building you go and the more of the exhibition you see. Taehyung is truly talented, the images blown up and displayed on the wall each capturing a certain emotion that you don’t have a name for, yet is so familiar that each time you see a new one it gives you pause. Viewing his works, seeing into this part of him and witnessing this bit of his soul he has bared, you can’t help but feel a slight sense of kinship. 

It’s something that rests in the space between your lungs and diaphragm, something that tickles but also something that aches. You do know this feeling, so familiar yet so out of touch and far from the tip of your mind’s tongue. You do try to guess the theme of the exhibition as you go, throwing out the occasional dumb guess to elicit a laugh— he always laughs, and it always makes you smile— but you don’t quite manage to pin it. 

“The five senses,” you shoot into the dark, standing before an image that has made you stop and stare for a good five minutes now. It’s not quite black and white, and it’s not a particularly unique image— but something about the composition, something about the movement in the two hands that are so close yet so far from actually touching, speaks to that hidden part of you. The way one of the hands simply hangs, unbothered and neutral, but the other, the one slightly closer to the foreground, has fingers ever so slightly outstretched, reaching but never quite committing to the movement and the unspoken consequence of the hinted action. 

Of course, you know the answer even before Taehyung says it. He laughs, hands in his pockets, “Nope, ddaeng.”

“This is hard,” you whine, without much heart behind it. The smile stays on Taehyung’s face.

“Whatever. You’re smart, I know you can guess it. It should be easy, for you.”

The compliment catches you off guard, and you have to turn away so that he doesn’t see your cheeks warm. The two of you had parted when you caught sight of the snacks table; you’d been prepared to abandon him and make a beeline over, but Taehyung had surprised you by marching over himself and coming back with a loaded plate. He’d confessed with a sheepish smile that he hadn’t had lunch, and really you were in no place to judge since you hadn’t either. By this point in your journey, though, the plate is almost empty. There’s only two tiny cupcakes left and you’re letting the rest of the things you scarfed down settle before you go in for more. 

Perhaps it was a little dangerous, coming here with Taehyung. He looks so fine, even while shoving sweets in his mouth, that you spend about the same amount of time looking at him as you do at his artworks. It takes all of your willpower to tear your eyes away every time you catch yourself looking at him and admiring the truly boyfriend fit he has donned for this occasion. Every so often he will simply stand before one of his works, scrutinising it with a fresh perspective and ever-criticising eyes, and the sight of it will make something nameless and foreign well within you. You don’t quite know what to do with it, so you ignore it. Or at least, you try to. 

It feels a little too similar to what you know of yearning. It leaves you confused.

You stop not long after in front of another piece, this time a combination of three images that act as separate snapshots of smaller parts of a larger image. You admire the way he has set it out, revealing not too much but just enough that the viewer gets a sense, a feeling, but isn’t confronted with the message. It allows everyone to take their own sensation from it. You like that a lot about his works— he doesn’t tell people what to feel as they view his images, but merely hints, prompts and nudges. He sets the stage and allows people to take what they need, see whichever bits draw their eye most and spell meaning from elements of their choosing. He’s talented, you find yourself marveling again, so incredibly talented.

But still, you can’t put a finger on what the theme is.

By the time you make your way completely though the exhibition, having doubled back at a few points to look again at a select few of the pictures, you’re still no closer to guessing. It has you deep in your thoughts as you stand outside, waiting for Taehyung to return from thanking one of the guests who had recognised him for coming. 

“Guessed it, yet?”

You turn, pinning him with a look that you hoped didn’t look as dumb as it felt. “Leave it with me,” you say. “I’ll figure it out eventually.”

At your words, Taehyung laughs— it’s one of the full-bodied ones you’ve come to enjoy, where he throws his head back a little and shakes his hair back into place after. You have to snap yourself out of it before he catches you staring. 

“I’m sure,” he says, unable to keep the cheeky grin off his face. It does slip ever so slightly though, just for a moment, as you watch a thought cross his features. “By the way…”

You tilt your head, waiting for him to continue. You feel an odd combination of at-peace, and unsettled. Holistically, this is the most at-peace and relaxed you’ve been in weeks. However, when you take a moment to tune into the inner machinations that make up your being… something in this exhibition has reached into your insides and fiddled around, moving things where they shouldn’t be and touching things that aren’t meant to be touched. It’s odd, and you acknowledge that it gives you quite a bit of cognitive dissonance. Even so, you’re calm enough that you have no trouble being patient while you wait for Taehyung to continue and say what he seems so nervous to say. 

“Um, I know I initially only asked you about coming here, to the exhibition…” he begins, reaching to rub the back of his neck in what you recognise to be one of his nervous ticks. “But, I actually have these vouchers I won in a competition a while ago for a paint-and-sip session that are about to expire, and I was wondering… would you like to go? Now, I mean. Since they actually kind of expire tomorrow. Unless you’re busy, because if you are that’s—”

You decide to put him out of his flustered misery, reaching to nudge his arm. “Of course, that sounds fun! Plus, you were right the other day; I could really do with the chance to relax. Thank you, for all this. I really appreciate it.”

It takes a second for your words to register, but when they do the most blindingly bright smile spreads across his face; he’s practically beaming at you. 

“Of course,” he says, with barely a moment’s hesitation. “I’m really happy you agreed to come— I’m glad you said yes to the paint-and-sip, too, because it’s one of my favourite places. Come on, let’s get going. If we get there at just the right time, we can get a really good seat, hopefully by the window.”

The journey continues, Taehyung leading you through the city while chatting easily all the while, a stunning twilight cityscape backdrop and the gentle glimmering surface of the river meandering through buildings providing the perfect scenery. If you had a little more faith in your artistic ability, you might try and paint the image you see now; Taehyung in the colours of dusk, soft and natural against the bright lights and harsh lines of the metropolitan landscape. But alas, you aren’t as talented as the man besides you, and you don’t even want to think of how it would turn out if you attempted to paint such a thing. You quickly throw the thought from your mind before it can linger and get up to more trouble than it’s worth. 

“Here we are!” Taehyung’s cheer breaks you out of your stupor, bright smile directed your way once more as he stops in front of a large establishment with long strips of window and a colourfully sewn awning. 

‘Brush & Bar’, the cursive, neon sign reads above the door, flickering between soft pink and peach orange. It’s an interesting aesthetic the place has going on, but when you look over and catch sight of Taehyung once more it suddenly makes sense why he likes it so much. The style of this place is very similar to some of the more outlandish things he tends to model around campus. Before your reverie lets you remain abandoned outside, you hurry to follow after the ashy-haired boy, grabbing the back of his jacket when you almost trip over the door frame. He spares a look over his shoulder to make sure you’re okay before he continues, moving towards the counter and smiling with more charm than you can personally handle at the staff member there. 

It’s a woman, who you suspect is in her mid-thirties, and she is pretty enough that it takes you by surprise when she rolls her eyes heavily at Taehyung’s approach. 

“You again, boy?” she asks, though it sounds more rhetorical than anything and you catch the slightest tinge of humour accenting her words and it soothes your hackles. “Don’t you ever get sick of hanging around here?”

“Nope!” 

She cracks a smile, lines appearing at the edges of her eyes. “Well, I suppose that’s a good thing. We’d miss you an awful lot if you ever stopped showing up here.” Her eyes flick ever so slyly to you, and then back. “Say, is today the day you’re finally gonna make good on those vouchers you won? I know you said you were waiting for the right chance to ask that g—”

“Yes!” Taehyung cuts in loudly, eyes wide and cheeks flushing darkly. “Yes, yep! I brought the vouchers! They do expire tomorrow after all!”

The woman, Bora as you now see from her nametag, simply smiles, something sly about the action intriguing you. Taehyung clears his throat, reaching to scratch the back of his neck sheepishly. “So, um… I will use them now. Is the window seat free…?”

Bora nods, a fond curve to her lips now as she rummages around behind the counter and takes the offered vouchers from Taehyung to punch holes in them. “Your favourite spot? Of course. I had a feeling you were coming, too, so I’ve already gone and set it up with some canvases and acrylics.”

She hands the vouchers back, and Taehyung slips them into the pocket of his jacket.  “Paintbrushes and jars are in their usual place, and I know you don’t normally drink while you’re here but if you’d like some tonight just take your order up to Kyungsoo. Oh! And tonight’s special for snacks is tea cakes, so definitely make the most of that. There are some good ones in the display.”

At the mention of food and alcohol, your gaze had already started to wander on its own— you catch sight of the display of cakes and other sweets and feel your mouth water. Ridiculous, since you were kind of full before, but what can you say, you’re a complicated woman. Lots of layers, not unlike an onion. The thought almost makes you snort.

With a gentle nudge to your arm, Taehyung is bringing you back to the present moment and leading you over to the window, where a medium-sized table has been set up with two square canvases and a basket of paint bottles, palettes leaning to the side. Taehyung instructs you to take a seat, informing you with a smile that he’ll grab some paintbrushes and water for the two of you to use. At his suggestion, while he is gone you open up your phone and search for something to paint. Something that’s not too hard and not too easy. Because your skills are… well, they’re not nonexistent but you’re not about to go around tooting your horn in front of someone with actual art skills and talent. Apparently there is usually an image supplied for each night, but Taehyung says it’s not strict and that tonight is one of the nights where all the patrons just have free reign. 

You sort of get distracted part way through the activity, eyes subconsciously seeking Taehyung’s leather jacket amongst the decently filled establishment. It’s really quite nice inside, actually; the walls and general decor are soft and neutral, with pops of colour everywhere that bring each corner and table to life. A lot of the furniture is wooden, natural and polished underneath specks of paint that decorate in layers that tell of time spent well. The lighting is soft with the exception of the bulbs stationed above each table, which are brighter and angled towards where the canvas would be. On one of the walls, the one near the bar, it is completely covered by greenery— vines that, as far as you can tell, aren’t actually fake. A soft, almost jazzy tune filters lightly through the room, complemented by the low hum of chatter and paintbrushes hitting glass. You’re incredibly impressed and, admittedly, you like this place a lot. It has the kind of vibe that just… makes you content. 

“Here we go!” 

You startle at the sound of Taehyung’s low register, looking over to see him placing a bundle of paintbrushes in between the two of you and a jar beside each of your canvases. He takes his seat across from you, smiling brightly. “Did you decide what you want to paint?”

You hum, turning your gaze out the window for a moment to see if it grants you any inspiration— it’s a gorgeous sight, the twilight sky broken by the outline of buildings with glimmering insides, but it doesn’t help much. You don’t know what you want to paint. Of course, there is this big, expanding feeling inside you, the urge to express it somehow filling you to your fingertips, but what do you do with it? You don’t even know its name.

“No,” you answer, reaching for one of the palettes propped up to the side. “But I’ll be okay. Maybe I’ll just see where the vibe takes me.”

The smile Taehyung gives you at that is softer than most, and he eagerly follows suit in grabbing a palette and beginning to set it up; he squirts a big dollop of white, blinking at it for a moment as though he hadn’t intended to put that much. “There are some pencils and erasers to the side there, too. I prefer the moldable one.”

You thank him for his advice, before realising as he puts his own pencil ever so lightly to canvas that he hadn’t told you the subject of his painting. “What are you going to paint?”

“A secret,” he says, leaning around the canvas to grin at you. “Since I don’t know what you’re painting. Let’s swap paintings after, though. I do want to see eventually.”

That makes you laugh, but you don’t bother pushing further. A surprise is nice every now and then, you know. So long as it’s not the kind that ruins your life as you know it indefinitely.

But you’re here to have fun and relax, so you’re not going to get into that. You’re not even going to think about it. 

Taehyung clears his throat, catching your attention immediately. “Right, before we start we should probably order. Did you—”

“No need, my boy!”

Two new figures appear at the side of the table, one a youthful man on the shorter side, the other older and plumper with grey beginning to speckle through his hair. The shorter one places two drinks onto the table, colourful cocktails in a generous glass, and the older laughs before placing down two plates, each with a different kind of cake slice situated neatly in the middle.

“On the house,” the man continues, chuckling at the shocked and somewhat flustered look on Taehyung’s face. “You’ve given us a lot of business so don’t even worry about it. Plus, we heard you were finally making the most of those vouchers so… here’s a little something to start the night off well!”

“...Thanks, Mr Kang,” Taehyung finally manages, shooting them a smile that could honestly give Hoseok’s own a run for its money. “You too, Kyungsoo. Do…. do I wanna know what’s in this?”

He’s gesturing to the drinks, a somewhat fearful look on his face. The shorter man shakes his head, thick brows curved in mirth as his lips twitch into a lopsided smile. “Nope. Tastes good though, so you got nothing to worry about.”

You can’t tell whether Taehyung is relieved or concerned, and so step in to save him a moment of reprieve. “Thank you so much— this all looks amazing!”

Happily, the two men soak in your praise. “I assure you,” Mr Kang says, patting his chest proudly. “It tastes as good as it looks.”

Kyungsoo snorts, but doesn’t disagree. He gives the two of you a small smile. “Right, we should be on our way. You two enjoy yourselves, and if you want refills just come let me know.”

Taehyung nods, thanking them again, and then it’s just the two of you once more.

“Well,” he says, licking his lips and reminding you of a puppy as he stares intently at the slice of strawberry crepe cake, decorated with a generous drizzle of syrup and two fresh, sliced strawberries in a dollop of cream beside it. The other one, a coffee-caramel blend you presume from the heavenly aroma reaching your nose, looks just as good but is nowhere near as successful at capturing his attention. “I guess… let’s begin!”

Whether he meant painting or devouring the food, you end up doing a bit of both. Each mouthful of cake that enters your mouth is announced with an explosion of flavour so rich it lingers long after you’ve swallowed the mouthful down. The drinks, too, are delicious. Fruity but not too syrupy or sugary, you suspect Kyungsoo had used spirits and tempered the fruity flavour with a bit of lemon or lime.

You still aren’t really sold on what to paint, but in the meantime you end up sketching out the flowers that sit on the windowsill a little behind Taehyung. They don’t seem too complicated, and if they end up looking terrible you can just smear the canvas with paint and call it abstract. Of course, part of Taehyung’s shoulder cuts the vase off from view so he’s probably going to end up making an unwitting appearance in whatever mess turns up on your canvas. 

Even though neither of you have any idea what Kyungsoo put into those drinks, you’re sure its something strong. Before long the two of you are already giggly, conversation flowing easily as you put paint to canvas and attempt to make something decent. It’s around the time the two of you are almost finishing your drinks that the conversation takes a delightful turn, which consists of Taehyung telling you about his little fluffball, Yeontan.

“Oh my god,” you say, fingers gripping the paintbrush tight as you try to pet the urge to pet a dog that isn’t even here. “He’s so cute! Look at his grumpy little eyebrows!”

Taehyung laughs, having taken a break from painting to show you his dog like a proud parent. He takes his phone back and slips it into his pocket, paint-flecked hand returning to the brush he’d abandoned. “He’s such a smart dog, but he’s also super dumb. Runs into shit all the time. And there was one time that a friend came over and brought a new camera that he hadn’t seen before—”

Taehyung has to pause recounting the story, he starts giggling so hard. It makes you erupt into laughter as well simply because of how contagious the sound is. “He got so mad, he ran in front of me with his little legs and started barking at it like he was trying to protect me. I love that little dog.”

“I love him too and I haven’t even met him,” you giggle, using your pinky (the only finger you’re sure you haven’t gotten paint on yet) to wipe under your eyes. You don’t think you let a tear slip but you’ve been laughing so much you can’t be sure. 

Taehyung beams at you from around his canvas, brush held midair.  “That’s exactly what Jiminie says.”

That gives you pause. “Wait— Jimin hasn’t seen your dog? But you’ve been friends for ages!”

You catch the photographer smiling as he delivers a few soft strokes to his painting, affection hidden in his tone as he responds, “Yeah, a few years. Since… the last? Second last year of high school? Maybe? It was a wild start to the friendship.”

“Wild?” you echo, intrigued. 

“Yeah. What really kick-started our friendship was this one time I came over while Jimin was really upset about something. I can’t remember exactly how it happened but we ended up at some wack university event nearby. It was boring as hell, and somehow we figured the best way to be entertained would be to commit a mild crime and get away with it.”

Once more, the ashy-haired male has to pause his story to get the giggles out of his system, taking the opportunity to sip a little more of his cocktail. You do the same, not one to pass up much of any drink these days. 

“Long story short, he ended up streaking across the field and earning himself a title at the university as ‘mooncheeks’ or something equally dumb and funny, earnt himself a bit of a nude legacy.”

You pause, the alcohol beginning to slow your mind just enough that it takes a little longer for you to connect the dot between his story and something you’d shoved so deep in the back of your mind years ago that you’d almost forgotten it.

“Wait—” you smack your paintbrush down, eyes wide as an accusing finger is thrown his way. “That was— he ran into me on the way back! Oh my god I almost forgot, that was you two?!”

Taehyung erupts into laughter that is an octave or two shy of being too loud, having to place a hand over his chest to brace himself. He’s nodding wordlessly, eyes pinched shut, and it’s probably the alcohol making your eyes blur but for a moment you could almost swear he’s glowing.

“Yeah,” he finally manages to articulate, wiping a stray tear or two from his eyes, sniffling. “It cheered him up, though, so I think it’s worth the potential trauma.”

That makes you laugh, another sip of your drink going down. A lot of the spirits must have settled at the bottom, because this one had a little warmth as it went down. 

The night goes so easily it’s like a dream, the atmosphere and alcohol in combination with Taehyung’s company making you feel much like you did before this whole shitshow, back when it wasn’t so hard to release the tension in your shoulders or to muster a genuine smile. Taehyung happily gets you a few refills, refusing to let you pull out your card— which is probably for the best because you’re not sure where your wallet is and you’re not coordinated enough to look right now.

You’re on the further side of tipsy, teetering on the edge of pleasantly drunk where nothing makes sense but you’re still somewhat coherent, and everything is funny. Taehyung has almost dipped his paintbrushes in his drink instead of the jar a few times, resulting in a long round of laughter and sore stomachs each time. Eventually, you’d moved his drink to the other side of the canvas and he’d offered you a sheepish smile. 

Surprisingly, your painting doesn’t look too bad, either. Currently it has a bit of a blurry, undefined quality to it, but in your current opinion it kind of works for it. Taehyung’s shoulder did end up making a feature and as the two of you talk you find yourself distractedly painting patterns in the ‘leather’, swirls and hearts and hell, even a few triangles. Eventually, you reach the point where you think that you really can’t do anything more to make the painting better in the time you have, so with a contented sigh you place your brush down and instead turn your attention to Taehyung.

Even as he talks to you and wobbles a little in place, he’s still so incredibly focused in his work, in every detail that meets canvas at the direction of his nimple finngertips, that you don’t think you even see his hand shaking while he paints. Which, your hand was— a lot. It’s the main factor responsible for this one squiggly flower stem in particular you can see in your painting.

As you sit there, happily listening and laughing at each anecdote Taehyung offers you about his life, you find your mind wandering a little bit. Back to the exhibition, and the works and even the way you caught him regarding them. You recognise the critical lens that he viewed them through, because it’s one you adopt yourself for your own creations. Something wells in you, an urge to reassure him in case he ever had any doubts about his own talent; you’re far too many drinks in to be in a place where you can stop yourself.

“Taehyung,” you begin softly but seriously, with minimal slur. He doesn’t stop his motions, but you see him pause for the briefest moment before humming in acknowledgement. “Taehyung, I have to tell you…”

You’re figuring out how to best word your impression of his works and his talent, but you must take longer than you thought because Taehyung lets out a soft huff, giving you a smile that you can’t quite decipher.

“Don’t worry,” he says, flicking the paintbrush back to rest the wooden stem on his knuckles. “I already know I’m not the muse. You don’t have to worry about convincing me.”

For a second, all you’re able to do is blink. Taehyung simply goes back to his painting, expression neutral and his soft hum brushing your ears beneath the soft melody floating from the speakers. You realise quickly that you don’t know what to say to that, and that the full implications of his words haven’t really sunk in yet. He must have noticed that you’d been trying to go around and convince all the suspected subjects that they aren’t the muse of the poem… you feel oddly ashamed, for some reason. Your cheeks feel hot, and not just from the alcohol flush.

“Done!”

Taehyung’s voice breaks you from your reverie, his cheery smile greeting you once more. “All finished?”

You nod, offering a smile of your own and taking the opportunity to say what you wanted to earlier. “Yep. I’m excited to see yours, you’re so incredibly talented, Tae.”

His smile turns shy at that, a bashful laugh tumbling from his lips as he does his best to clean up his area. You do the same, standing up for the first time in a while and having to reach out and stabilise yourself on the table so you don’t fall. The drinks hit you a little harder than you first thought!

“Thank you,” he finally mumbles a few moments later, collecting the brushes. “I’m excited to see yours, too.”

You let out a short laugh at that, knowing that whatever you threw onto that canvas isn’t going to be able to hold a candle to what he made.

Quicker than you can keep track of, the two of you finish tidying and then before you know it you’re saying your goodbyes to the staff and stepping outside. You shiver at the unexpected breeze that greets you, people along the other side of the street huddling together. It’s a windy night and the breeze carries a bit of a bite.

“Oh, right,” Taehyung starts in place, offering his canvas to you. “Careful, it might still be a bit wet…”

Somewhat mindlessly, you swap paintings with him, smiling brightly before your gaze is drawn to the side. By nothing but absolute chance, it passes over the line in front of a bar popular with students at your university, and you almost blink and move on before your eyes halt in familiarity. At the hands of nothing but stupid luck, there is someone you recognise over there. Yoongi stands, face indicating a loud complaint before it even leaves his mouth, and there are a few others around him that he seems to be with who are laughing as they wait in line.

Your head feels so messy, like the wind has managed to get inside your skull and fling everything about like leaves on the autumn breeze. You’re so distracted in the moment that you don’t see it as Taehyung follows the direction of your gaze, and his expression drops. When you jerk out of your reverie, it’s just in time to see his eyes flicking from your painting, to his, and then back to you.

You’re about to peek at his painting and fill the silence with a compliment, but he beats you to it. Something is different about his expression, and not just because he’s no longer under the warm light of the paint bar. The glow you’d noticed so easily earlier seems to have dimmed a bit.

“Did you figure out the theme of the exhibition?”

At his question you startle, gaze flicking to the side as you try and figure it out on instinct on the spot. You’d completely forgotten to think about it, and considering you spent about as much time looking at him as you did his works while at the exhibition, you can safely determine you’re still nowhere closer to the answer. “Ah… no.”

As though drawn like a magnet, your gaze ends up over in the direction of Yoongi for the briefest second. You struggle to tear it away.

“It’s anaxiphilia.”

Even through the inebriation slowing your thoughts, his words reach you immediately. It’s as though your heart has turned to stone and dropped straight through your chest. That unspeakable, unknown emotion wells and bubbles within you, swelling to twice, thrice its size and blocking words before they can even reach your throat. Your eyes are on Taehyung again, but his are still centred where yours had been— had he also noticed Yoongi? You didn’t know they knew each other...

“Oh,” you finally manage, swallowing down that nameless sensation. Taehyung’s gaze slowly slides back to you, dark eyes full of so much… something, you think it would take you years to unpack and familiarise yourself with it all. 

For a second, the two of you stand with your gazes locked, both of you too deep in your own thoughts to do anything about it. Taehyung is the one that breaks the spell. 

“Well, it’s getting late, I shouldn’t keep you out any longer… There is a bus stop here, and tons of ubers in the area…” His eyes flick away as he talks but return as he murmurs this last bit, “Thank you for coming today. I hope you had fun.”

“Of course I did,” you rush, finally finding your voice amongst the shambles in your head. “Thank you for inviting me, Tae. I really… I really needed this. Thank you.”

He nods, smiling at you, but you notice it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Please get home safe,” he says, and you nod immediately, making his gaze soften. “See you later.”

“Bye! Thank you again!” you wave, Taehyung turning quick and already a decent way down the street after his farewell. He offers a wave over his shoulder and you catch it just in time before you turn back, gaze unconsciously seeking out the familiar figure across the road. Distantly, you observe that Yoongi is no longer in line for the bar and has switched to the bubble tea place a few stores down.

Taehyung’s exhibition and it’s theme swim through your mind, a sudden impulse welling within you in response that spurs your legs into a motion. You’re about to go across the road in a sudden spurt of something like bravery, but for some indecipherable reason, you stop before you can get more than a few feet. You turn your head, gaze thrown over your shoulder, eyes seeking without an explicit goal in mind.

You catch sight of him just before he rounds the corner and disappears from view— even from the back Taehyung presents a handsome figure, but in the split-second you manage to view him, the most notable things about his retreating form is the slumped curve of his shoulders and the lowered angle of his head. He’s gone before you can blink leaving you for good this time with nothing but your messy head and the one thought that swims to the surface that says after seeing him glow in happiness for the better part of the evening, sadness doesn’t suit him much at all. 

Clutching the painting, your turn back to the front and try and focus on the present for just a minute or two, like whether you’re going to catch a bus or uber it home, but each time you start a new thought it always brings you back to the odd mix of guilt swirling deep in your gut. There’s something else there, the familiar hollow pit of yearning, but for once… you can’t quite tell who it’s for. 

a/n: thank u so much for reading! i really hope it was worth the wait and that you look forward the future parts as fox rain begins to slowly draw to a close!! pls let us know u liked it w a like and rb and screaming in our inboxes is always ALWAYS welcome!! thank u !! love u !! <3

[wulfrann]

A wingman winged (Palmetto by the Sea part 1)

All for the game

Rating: Teen and Up

Relationship: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Neil Josten & Allison Reynolds, Allison Reynolds/Renee Walker (side)

Additional Tags: AU - Modern Setting, AU - No Exy, First Meeting, Eden’s Twilight, Neil ‘Best Wingman’ Josten

[Part 1 of the Palmetto by the Sea series - Chapter 1/1 - 3k words - Published 2020-12-10]

Summary :

It's a Saturday night at Eden's, and Allison needs Neil's help to approach the object of her long-suffering crush - that is to say, she needs him to distract the girl's intimidating friend long enough that she's able to approach in the first place.

(TW: alcohol, sexual harassment (short-lived), brief display of violence, smoking)

[Read on Ao3]

*

A wingman winged

The music thumps the ground in rhythm, low and deep like a pulse as it throbs through the club and reverberates into the bodies twisting as one on the dance floor. Eden’s Twilight isn’t really Neil’s scene, but the dark aesthetic and ever-shifting neon lighting make it easy to blend in. The shadows bend and stretch over his scars, reducing them to odd tattoos at first glance - and he makes sure he never gets a second. The clothes he’s wearing are nice enough and all black, but neither form-fitting nor revealing. Standing next to Allison’s brand of tastefully flashy clubwear, he’s no more than a foil. Seduction is her domain, and she thrives on it.

Which is what makes the fact that she’s asking him for help absolutely baffling.

“I’ve seen you wrap more than half this crowd around your little finger like it was nothing. Why can’t you just do the same with her?”

“You don’t understand,” Allison repeats for the third time that night. She has her chin in her hand and is leaning over her drink, swirling the expensive cocktail around with her straw. “I’ve tried everything, and the most I’ve gotten is for her to look at me. She hasn’t even tried to buy me a drink.”

“Have you tried talking to her?”

Allison scoffs. “I don’t set myself up for failure. She’s given me no sign that she’s interested. Besides, that little troll of a man she keeps around would probably bite me if I tried.”

Neil snorts at that. He’s seen the man in question glare people away, from both himself and his friend, all evening - on one occasion, he’s almost certain that the man even pulled out a knife. There’s no mistaking the way that the light glinted off of the blade, not even from across a crowded nightclub. Neil would recognise that brief flash anywhere.

His friend though, she looks friendly enough. White hair dyed rainbow at the tips, a silver cross, a few piercings. She’s wearing a black dress that wouldn’t look out of place in daylight and a soft smile that Neil is tempted to believe is fake just because of how earnest it looks. She’s also got the muscle structure of an athlete, a fact which Allison has reminded him of enough times that he’ll probably never be able to forget.

“Couldn’t you just accept your defeat and move on?” Neil tries, but he’s known Allison long enough that his heart isn’t in it. She’s never been one to give up.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Have you seen the arms on her? I’m getting her in my bed whether her little bodyguard likes it or not.”

“What if she’s straight?”

Allison shakes her head at him in that way that means he’s failed at some kind of social task and starts to count her points off her fingers. “Neil, the woman is ripped, has an undercut, rainbow hair, and armpit hair.”

“How do you know-”

“I have eyes. Besides, that blond troll she always comes here with is definitely gay, and everyone knows queer people travel in group.”

Neil throws a skeptical glance towards the unlikely duo, but doesn’t argue. None of what Allison listed strikes him as particularly telling, but he’s been told that his ‘gaydar’ is ‘absolutely abysmal’ on numerous occasions by about everyone he knows except Kevin, who's just as bad as him if Allison can be trusted.

Neil might as well accept his fate. “What do you want me to do?”

Allison grins at him. “I knew you’d see it my way.”

*

Locating the two of them isn’t as easy when he’s not sitting on the upper level but standing right here in the crowd, surrounded by people and blinded by the rapidly changing lights. Years of hyper-vigilance end up paying off once he’s gotten his bearings right, however, and he starts making his roundabout way towards the section of wall they’re leaning on. The man is sipping on some kind of drink and staring blankly into the distance while the woman does most of the talking, though she does glance in Allison’s general direction more than once in the amount of time it takes Neil to reach them. He doesn’t blame her - even he has to admit that Allison’s dancing is a thing of beauty.

Neil, on the other hand, only ever pretends to dance. He’s gone out with his friends often enough that he’s picked up a few generic moves and can blend in, but it just - doesn’t appeal to him. Still, what little grasp he has on it is enough to get to his target unnoticed.

One falsely awkward step later and he’s got a glassful of whiskey and coke soaking into the man’s black tank top and dripping down his pants.

The hand wrapped around his arm, steadying him, is an unexpected addition. Neil’s previous drink messed his balance at the last minute and he’s pretty sure he’d have fallen to the floor if he hadn’t been caught. The man’s grip is undeniable strong, but it’s the eyes that really hold Neil down to his spot. He can’t quite tell the color because of the many strobing lights and colored neons flashing around, but he thinks they might be brown.

“Oops,” Neil says, straightening himself up with exaggerated movements. The man’s eyes flicker down his drenched top before sliding back up to Neil’s eyes without so much as a frown. “Sorry for your muscle shirt,” Neil adds as an after-thought, digging the word out of an afternoon spent (unwillingly) shopping with Allison.

The man arcs a single eyebrow. “You’re drunk,” he says, with one of the flattest voices Neil has ever heard.

Neil smiles widely, swaying a little on his feet. He still has the man’s hand wrapped around his bicep. “No,” he retorts, slurring the words a bit, “I’m Neil.”

The eyebrow arcs up even higher. Neil’s smile widens. He’s about to say something else, whatever sentence he can think of that would maintain the man’s attention on him, when someone else’s voice cuts in.

“Andrew, you’re soaked!”

Neil turns towards the woman, spying Allison making her way over from behind her, and raises his now empty glass. “My fault. I wasn’t looking.”

She smiles. From close up, it looks even softer than Neil thought. “That’s okay, it happens,” she says, then glances down where the man’s hands - Andrew’s? - is still holding on to him. “Are you okay? Can you stand?”

“Yeah, I just tripped,” Neil reassures her, then looks over at Andrew, whose eyes haven’t left his face. He’s… staring, with an intensity that catches Neil off-guard. And then he’s not, because Allison is coming over and calling his name. The hand drops from his arm like it was burned.

“Neil! There you are.” She puts a hand on his shoulder, then turns, falsely confused, towards Andrew and his friend. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” the woman says, looking a little stunned.

“Your friend spilled his drink on me,” Andrew states, throwing a look at his own friend.

“I was just going to ask the barman for paper towels,” the object of Allison's scheming adds, already half-turning away.

Allison doesn’t hesitate one second before following suit, offering her help. When the woman starts to protest, she takes hold of her arm and all but drags her to the bar. Neil watches the interaction without holding back his smile.

When he turns back towards Andrew, the man is staring at him with a frown.

“Sorry again for your shirt,” Neil offers, though he forgets to make himself sound like he means it. “You should probably take it off.”

The arched eyebrow comes back, and Neil realizes what he just said with a choked laugh. “I didn’t mean it like that. But it would dry faster,” he adds, feeling stupid. Andrew doesn’t look convinced, though, so he feels compelled to add, “I don’t swing.”

“I don’t watch baseball,” Andrew deadpans.

“I’m not talking about baseball,” Neil says, grimacing in disgust. “It’s not even a real sport.”

The look Andrew gives him is the blankest one yet. Neil looks down into his empty glass, then at Andrew’s tank top.

“You really should rinse it down, at least,” he ends up saying. “Otherwise it’s going to stick.”

Andrew stares at him a little longer, then downs his glass and starts to move in the direction of the bathroom. For some reason, Neil follows.

The bathroom is painted mostly black, like just about everything in Eden’s. Only the large sink is white. Neil leans back against it and watches as Andrew grabs a few paper towels from the dispenser and soaks them with water, then starts to wipe at his shirt. He thinks about helping, but remembers the way Andrew avoided touching anyone on his way to the bathroom and figures that there’s not much he could do, anyway.

“You’re not drunk,” Andrew states after a while.

Neil debates lying as Andrew throws the wet ball of paper away and walks to the dispenser to get more, but decides against it. “No, I’m not. I don’t like it.”

Andrew barely glances at him. “You play drunk well for someone who doesn’t like it.”

“S’not hard,” Neil says, shrugging, then figures he might as well come clean and adds: “Allison needed an excuse to talk to your friend.”

Andrew meets his eyes then, eyebrow arched up. “Did she try buying her a drink?”

“That’s what I said.” Neil smiles, then shrugs again. “Apparently she’s been trying to get your friend’s attention for weeks, but nothing’s worked.”

Andrew lets a sharp breath out of his nose, which Neil guesses is the equivalent of a laugh, if the lack of facial expression he's shown so far is anything to go by. “If that’s what she thinks, then your friend’s blind.”

Neil grins. “I’m glad. I thought I’d caught her staring a few times, but I wasn’t sure.”

“Renee likes to think she’s subtle.”

“Well, at least they’re talking now. I don’t think you’re getting those paper towels though,” Neil adds, watching Andrew wash his hands with a distracted kind of fascination. Somehow, the dark armbands encasing both of Andrew’s forearms make his hands stand out. Broad, and worn, with an odd elegance in the way they move. Neil would bet a lot of money on Andrew having some kind of manual career, at the very least a hobby. Something meticulous.

It’s only after Andrew’s wiped his hands and thrown away one last paper towel that Neil realizes he’s been staring, and he moves his eyes to Andrew’s face instead. He finds him with his head tipped slightly to the side, looking at him with the faintest hint of curiosity on his face.

Neil is about to say something - he's not sure what - when some guy he’d barely registered on his radar suddenly steps into his space.

"Hey there, pretty face,” the guy slurs, exhaling cheap booze right into Neil’s face. “Were you waiting for me?"

Neil looks up at the guy's face and begrudgingly resists the urge to bash an elbow into his nose. "Obviously not," he spits.

Hoping that it's enough for the guy to take his hint and leave, Neil starts to turn back towards Andrew. He is immediately jostled back towards the guy as a large hand grabs his chin and twists. "Hey, I was talking to you, Scarface."

"Wow, I've never heard that one before," Neil retorts, rolling his eyes. "You know, you should really make up your mind, asshole. Either I'm pretty or I'm not. Now get lost," Neil says, and is about to jam his knee into the guy's crotch when something tears the asshole away from him. Neil's balance is shaken by the movement, but he manages to stay upright by gripping the sink.

"You don't touch people without their permission. Hasn't anyone ever told you that?" Andrew says, pressing down upon the hold he has on the guy's arm, which he's twisted behind his back with one hand. He has a knife pressed to the guy's throat with the other. His voice is flat enough to cut. "If I see you again, I'll gut you. Understood?"

The guy nods and Andrew sends him sprawling onto the floor. He scrambles quickly to his feet and promptly runs out the door. Light glints off the small knife’s blade, clutched so tightly Andrew’s knuckles look white.

"Thanks," Neil says in the silence. "But I could have handled it."

"I don't care," Andrew snarls back.

Neil looks at the tension oozing out of Andrew's every cell and decides to keep silent. It's the right decision, judging by the way Andrew closes his eyes and starts packing up the tension, folding it back inside little by little. Neil knows the feeling.

The knife vanishes from his hand (and into one of the sheaths Neil suspects are sewn into the armbands), and Neil follows Andrew out of the bathroom. They stand by the door for a bit while Neil watches Andrew scanning the crowd with a clenched jaw. The tension is still there, even packed up, even pressed down tight under the surface of his skin. It needs more space than that to leave.

"Let's get out of here," Neil offers.

Andrew glances at him, then nods. Neil takes a hold of the hem of Andrew's shirt and leads the way out of the club.

*

The night's chill is a welcome change of pace after the density of the packed club's air. Neil inhales a gallon of it as soon as they've stepped outside, and hears Andrew do the same. It smells of cigarette butts and wet asphalt. He had no idea it'd rained.

A faint click on his right - Andrew lights a cigarette and offers him another one. Neil takes it and watches the smoke spill out of Andrew’s mouth like magic, grabbing hold of the lighter only as an afterthought. The metal is smooth under his touch and slightly warm over the imprint of Andrew’s hand. Neil brings the cigarette to his lips and takes a drag, closing his eyes to focus on the burning air flow rushing down his windpipe. He blows it out smiling, eyes trailing after the faint grey cloud. Andrew’s eyes are on him.

“Thanks,” he tells him, raising his cigarette in the air.

They smoke in silence. Neil lets the little circle of fire eat away at his cigarette without taking another drag, content just to breathe and to watch as the tension coiled so tight in Andrew’s chest unwinds, seeping out, one exhalation at a time, into the quiet night.

The quiet can’t last forever, however, especially not on a Saturday night at Eden’s doorsteps, and so the peace is brutally broken a few minutes later as a group of inebriated twenty-somethings spill out over the sidewalk laughing loudly and singing songs. Andrew adroitly sidesteps one of them as he staggers to the side before getting dragged back by his friend, brushing shoulders with Neil. They got their stuff back from the cloakroom when they stepped out and Andrew’s wearing a leather jacket over his muscle shirt, black as the rest of his clothes.

Andrew looks at the group staggering its way down the street until they’re far enough they can barely hear them. “Are you hungry?”

Neil shrugs. “Kinda. Why? Are you asking me to dinner?” Neil asks, smile tugging at his lips. “I doubt we’ll find anything open.”

Andrew smothers the butt of his cigarette on the wall and tosses it into the trashcan Eden’s staff left by the door, then gestures at Neil to follow. It goes against about every instinct Neil has cultivated along the years, but he does.

He doesn’t know why. Andrew’s back is broad and he walks at a steady pace, with an assurance that doesn’t look learned and yet still probably is. Neil remembers the way Andrew looked when he bent the asshole’s arm behind his back, like what he really wanted was to break it in half but knew that he had to hold back. His voice hadn’t faltered then, either. Neil wonders if it ever does.

They stop in front of a motor bike parked some way off of the club, street lights glinting off of the metal and black bodywork. Andrew gets a helmet from some kind of locked compartment and hands it over to Neil, who takes it by reflex.

“Where are we going?” he asks, turning the helmet around in his hands. He’s starting to wonder whether Andrew’s even aware that there are other colors outside of black.

Andrew grabs a pair of gloves out of the compartment and slips them on. “A kebab joint,” he says without looking at Neil. “It’s open until 3.”

 Neil considers the bike, then the helmet in his hands. “I’ve never ridden on a bike before.”

“Don’t get on before I tell you to. Don’t make me lose my balance. When the bike leans into turns, lean with it,” he drones out. “If you do that and hold on, you’ll be fine.”

Neil considers Andrew. The solid stance of him. Once he climbs on the bike, he’ll have no control until they stop.

“Okay.”

There’s a buzzing beneath his kin.

*

The kebab joint is a tiny square of neon light squeezed in-between two higher-end shops, and the only open place to sell food for miles around. There are no tables and no interior, just a counter with a window display that reminds Neil of ice-cream shops, filled with meat fillings, some kind of fried rolls, and a handful of sad-looking pastries. The items are listed above and to the sides - hamburgers, kebabs, paninis, all with various meats and side dishes and an array of sauces Neil’s never heard of before. He has no idea where to start, and so asks for the same thing Andrew ordered.

They pack the smell of cheap food and fat in plastic bags and leave the shop front to sit by the pier. The kebab is greasy and would have made Kevin scream, but the meat is tasty and the sauce is good, and it’s somehow the perfect thing to eat right now.

Through the cloud of their food wafts the sharp smell of iodine. They claimed a spot of the pier to sit, legs dangling through the railing, and the wood too smells of salt, is so ingrained with it that it sticks slightly to the skin and leaves imprints of tiny crystals on their clothes.

They eat in silence; the wash and backwash of the sea beneath the pier is a rolling whisper, swishing quietly past the piles and back again, a dark rippling sky in movement. There is no agitation around them, yet still it seems as though the sea swallows all sounds, pillows the silence with its mass, shaping a quietude with depth. It’s a quality of peace Neil has never felt before.

He’s just about finished with his food when his phone buzzes.

[From: Allison] where r u??

Neil snorts. Andrew raises a quizzical eyebrow at him, but he just shakes his head.

[To: Allison] I left 30 minutes ago, but thank you for noticing.

[From: Allison] was busy :-*

[From: Allison] u haven’t been kidnapped right? did u go home?

[To: Allison] No and no. I’m at the pier with Andrew.

[From: Allison] ?????

[From: Allison] was that a joke???

Neil huffs out a laugh, enjoying the confusion, and puts his phone on silent as more texts keep coming in. Andrew’s phone buzzes once, but he doesn’t check it - just grabs a cigarette and his lighter, replacing the smell of their meal with another. The smoke drifts up and disperses, yielding to the handful of stars valiantly fighting against the electrical constellations of city lights. The moon is gibbous amongst them and fractal upon the sea; Neil distractedly notices that it’s waning, as the curve makes a d and Jean’s trick somehow never left his mind, despite his lack of interest in the conversation at the time.

It makes Andrew look even paler, this lighting. His hair is made of silver and the volumes of his face either stand out or cave, stark and almost unreal.

Andrew’s eyes flick to his.

“Staring.”

Neil smiles. He takes the cigarette from Andrew’s hand and takes a drag, blowing memories up, up, up until they’re gone.

“What do you do?” he asks when he hands the cigarette back. “For a living, I mean.”

Andrew doesn't answer. He just looks at Neil and pulls on his cigarette. A bit of wind blows the smoke sideways, across his cheek and back to land.

"If you won't tell me, I'll guess," Neil says when it's clear he's not getting an answer, and pretends to study Andrew's appearance for clues. "You could be an artist. You look like one." He grins at the unimpressed look on Andrew's face. "Bit of a cursed poet vibe, with the piercings and all that black. Strong aesthetic. I guess you could be a musician, too."

The corner of Andrew's mouth twitches. "Shallow."

Neil shrugs. Appearances tell a lot more than people think, but he's pretty sure he got it wrong. He doesn't actually know how artists are supposed to look like - that's not really the kind of things he learned to watch out for - but it's as good a guess as anything. "It's either that or undertaker."

Andrew blows smoke out through his nose. "Sorry to disappoint, but I just serve drinks."

Neil hums. "Full time?"

"No. I also cook."

"You're a chef, and you still eat food like this?" Neil asks, waving at the plastic bag sitting between them.

"Aide," Andrew corrects. "Anas' is the only decent place still open. I don't see you complaining."

"It was pretty good," Neil grants, then adds, because it's only fair: "I'm a student."

"Late calling?"

Neil smiles. "Something like it."

An eyebrow shaped like a question. Neil ignores it in favor of the sea, but the weight of Andrew's gaze stays fixed on him like an anchor. He wonders if Andrew's trying to guess what something like it may hide; wonders how far away from reality he's wandering, trying to find something reasonable; wonders, even, how he'd react if Neil told him the truth. Whether he'd balk at the scars that prove it or stare at them the same way he's staring at the ones across his face now, blank and unwavering, on the upside of bored.

*

Riding on Andrew's bike the second time is just as exhilarating as the first. The city flies by in a blur - the docks, the bars, the empty streets, they blend together and melt together until there's nothing really left but them, passing. Alone. A figment caught between two worlds.

When Andrew drops him off, the ground still moves beneath his feet. Neil shoves his hand into his pockets and grins, feeling absurdly carefree.

"Thank you. For the ride and for the food - it was amazing."

He means it. Andrew is looking at him like he's trying to figure out if he does. He holds out his hand, and Neil frowns.

He looks to the sky and sighs. "Your phone."

"Oh," Neil says. He puts his phone in Andrew's palm.

Andrew takes one glove off and puts his number in quickly. He tosses his phone back to Neil and brings two fingers up to his temple in salute.

The bike roars to life, the noise filling the street until it's gone. Neil looks down at the brand new contact in his phone, carefully prodding at the little bit of warmth beneath his sternum.

Matt, Dan, Wymack, Allison, Abby, Kevin, his therapist, his dentist and his doctor. Andrew's number brings the staggering total amount of contacts into his phone to a very satisfying 10.

[supraveng]

Cocktail Hour

Summary: you work for Stark in his lab and get to know the Avengers, you also moonlight as a bartender

Characters: Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanof, Reader

Warnings: SMUT and story and a bit of fluff, alcohol consumption, 

Word Count: 4312

“What do you want, Wilson?” you asked without looking up from the project you were working on.   “Is that anyway to treat your favorite Avenger?” he responds with a smirk.  “Oh, I didn’t realize you brought Bucky with you” you smirk as you look up a bit shocked to see Bucky standing behind Sam and with a shit eating grin. 

“Wow, really Y/N?  I thought we were friends'' he responds in a huff.  “Wilson, you only come visit when you want something from me, it’s never friendly chatting.  I’m busy, what do you want?” you deadpan knowing the more you agitate him the longer this is going to take, but you don’t care.  Getting Sam all riled up is one of your favorite past times, and one that you and Bucky have been bonding over.  

“Fine, I’ll make it short and sweet.  I need you to put in a good word for me with your girl, Savannah'' he states as he wiggles his eyebrows.  You freeze and slowly look at Sam, with a slight squint.  

“WHAT?” you respond exasperated that he’s interrupting your project that seems to be never ending.  "Please?  She's cute and we really hit it off, but I'll be coming back to the bar this week to get her number and you can make sure she knows I'm more than worth her time" he tells you with a smug look on his face.  

"First of all, since when does the, and I quote, great Sam Wilson need help getting numbers? Second, her name is Sienna not Savannah. And last but not least, you aren't her type" you respond with a smirk, knowing just how much your points are getting under my skin.  

"Alright now, I don't need your help getting numbers, women love me. I just wanted you to be a supportive friend" he grumbles at you.  You just raise an eyebrow waiting for him to continue. 

"Second, she said Savanna like the city in Georgia." "Its Siena, like the city IN ITALY!" you interrupted.  

"And third, how could this not be her type?" he said as he gestured from his head to his toes, flashing that ridiculous smile and beginning to flex his biceps.  You let out a heavy sigh and you can tell he thinks he's got you stumped.  

"While all that" you waive your hand towards him "might interest some women, you just don't have what she wants" you state while slightly shaking your head sadly. He's about to start up with another dispute and any other time you would love to spend hours tormenting him like this, but you were still working and had a few hours left to finish the reconfiguration of your latest project, so you step closer. 

Putting your hands on his shoulders and looking up at him with an apologetic smile "Sam, you don't have a vagina. I'm sorry, but she's not interested unless you do."  

Bucky couldn't hold it in any longer and was doubled over in laughter. "Now, if you boys didn't bring me coffee, get out of my lab" you say as sweetly as possible.  "But she was so flirty, are you sure?  Maybe she's bi?" he asks trying to understand what he missed. 

 "She's a waitress Sam, flirting gets you bigger tips.  I mean did you give your usual amount or did she earn a bit extra?" you ask only trying to get him to see the reality of their interactions.  

"Damn it!" he huffs as he turns around to leave.  Bucky straightens up trying to calm himself down when he looks up at you "I'll be right back with your coffee" 

A few minutes later, Tony walks in with a quizzical look on his face "what did you do to birdman and gramps?"  He moves past you toward the back of the lab.  

"Why would you think I did anything to those two?" you ask as innocently as possible.  He arches an eyebrow and you concede "ugh, why does that always work? Ok, it's no big deal, Sam was asking about my coworker Siena, and I told him he had no chance since she's into women. But apparently when a waitress flirts its interest and not just trying to get a bigger tip, he learned a lot today" you sigh as you continue working.  

"What do you mean "coworker Siena''? He asks using air quotes.  "I've never seen her in my lab, who is she?"  " She's a waitress at the bar" you mumble realizing Tony didn't know about your other job. You have been an intern for him, working on your doctorate in Biomedical engineering, for the last year and he didn't know you had another job. This isn't going to end well you thought to yourself.  

"How is it possible you have another job? You are here all the time, how do you have time to work at a bar, write your dissertation, find time to sleep and have a social life?" he asks, seeming like he's been swindled or something.  

"And why do you have another job?  This internship pays above average for engineers, I'm not even sure what's going on around here anymore."  

"Ok, Tony, first of all, I thought you knew, I cleared it with legal before I accepted the internship.  I've been working at The Rum House since my freshman year and they are flexible with my hours. Two, the work I'm doing here is my dissertation,  three who are you to question my sleep habits?  And four, I like staying busy, I don't have a social life per say and I'm ok with that" you state with a shrug just as Bucky comes walking in with a huge cup of coffee.

"One venti flat white with hazelnut, sorry am I interrupting?" he questions as he hands you the coffee.  You immediately bring it to your face and take a deep breath closing your eyes to enjoy your favorite beverage and miss the small smirk on Bucky's face, feeling a bit of joy that he could make you happy with something as simple as a cup of coffee.  

Taking a sip you moan and open your eyes to see Tony and Bucky starring at you. With a smile you look at Bucky "thank you, this is exactly what I needed and no you didn't interrupt a thing, we're done,"  

"We are so far from done, did you know she had another job? Hmm? Am i the last to find out everything around here?” Tony mumbles to himself as he goes back to his work station.  Bucky smiles and waves as he leaves and you watch him longer than you should but damn the way he wears jeans just does something  to you.  

"And what was that?  You have a crush on the centurion now too?" he asks.  "What? You are ridiculous!  I'm just appreciating the coffee and wondering why you never bring me coffee.  I mean, I thought you took your title of "World's greatest boss" seriously but I guess that's not the case" you respond as seriously as possible as you sit back down and get back to your project.   

You've been working non stop most of the day and don't realize how late it is until your phone chimes and you notice it’s after midnight. .

You are probably already in bed but I wanted to say goodnight 

I'm actually still working. I guess I lost track of time.  I should head home and get some sleep

It's late, you could stay with me  ;) 

That's so tempting but your roommates are very nosey, not sure how to sneak out in the morning without getting caught 

You're right, as always.  Can I walk you home?

I would love that, meet me at the corner  in 15?

I'll be there in 10 

"Even tired you still look beautiful, how is that possible? " he states as you wrap your arms around his torso for a long overdue hug.  "And you are always the charmer, how did I get so lucky?" you mumble into his chest as you inhale deeply.  

His scent always felt calming and safe. "I'm the lucky one" he says as he kisses the top of your head.  Beginning to walk arm in arm down the street,  "now let's get you to bed, you work too much"  

"In my defense it will all be over once I complete my dissertation, then when I find a real job, I'll be a normal person working 60-80 hours a week" you smile at him and peck his cheek.  

"That's more than normal people, and the part time job at the bar? Are you going to give that up?" he questioned with a smirk.  

"I like the bar and I thought you liked the tiny uniform" you wink as you turn the corner towards your apartment.  

"You can wear that for me any time and I would love it, not just at work, or better yet, nothing at all" he responds in a low growl. You chuckle and swat his chest, "then we would never leave the apartment" "and I don't see that as a problem at all!" he spins you towards him and kisses you passionately, then releases your arm. 

"Aren't  you coming up?" you ask a bit disappointed. "I definitely want to, but you need sleep and if I go up to your place, I will not let you get any." he states slowly backing away.  

"I have tomorrow off, do you think you can break away from your roommates and we can have lunch?" you ask. "If you have the whole day off, you call me when you wake up and I'll take you to breakfast, lunch and dinner, and I will make sure we work up an appetite in between'' he responds with the wiggle of his eyebrows.  

"That sounds perfect! I'll call you in the morning" you smile as you make your way into the building.  Flopping on your bed exhausted, you have a smile on your face for the plans you have for tomorrow. 

Waking up you look at your clock and gasping, 10:33, you hadn't slept that late in ages. 

Hey handsome, you probably don't believe me, but i just woke up!  I'm gonna hope in the shower or should I wait for you to join me ;)

Oooo, I am on my way, do not start without me! 

😘

The knock at your door was barely 10 minutes later, and you opened it laughing at the look on his face. "Did you run the whole way here? Your place is a 20 minute walk away."  

"I needed to work up a sweat for the shower, been thinking about you naked since last night, which makes it very HARD to sleep" he responds while following you into the apartment.  

"Well, you are overdressed so maybe I can help you out of those clothes" you respond in almost a whisper. You bat your lashes as you start to unbuckle his belt, looking up at him biting your lip "it's been such a long week, I feel like I hardly get to see you."  

"I know, but today will make up for it, I promise" he mumbles into your neck.  You are walking backwards into the bathroom when he is finally in just his boxers, you turn on the shower before dropping your robe to the floor.  

He drinks you in from head to toe with a low moan "Damn beautiful, I've missed you" he practically purrs as he grabs your hips to pull you closer.   The long shower was a much needed tension relief for both of you and lasted until the water ran cold.  

“So what would you like for breakfast, beautiful?” he asks as he’s kissing your neck and wrapping his arms around you.  “Actually, I was thinking maybe we order in, that way we don’t need to bother getting dressed at all.” you respond biting your lip and enjoying his lips traveling down your neck to your collarbone.  He practically growls in response before picking you up and carrying you out of the bathroom, “you are brilliant, you know that?” before throwing you on the couch and poncing on top of you.  

Several slices of pizza and orgasms later, the two of you are cuddling on the couch when his phone dings, “they can’t leave you alone for a day can they?” you quip knowing it’s his roommates checking to make sure he’s still alive.  

He kisses your forehead before grabbing his phone “they are a bunch of smothering assholes, that’s what they are!” he responds before reading the message with a large sigh.  Looking at him you know exactly what that means “what time do you have to leave?” you ask as casually as possible.  

“I’m sorry, it’s a last minute “important” meeting, I can shower here and leave at 8ish to be on time” he responds apologetically.  

“Which means you are supposed to be there before 8, but I will take every minute I can get!” you state as you straddle his lap and kiss his jaw. 

 “Trust me, I would much rather be here with you, kissing every inch of your body.  Maybe I can fake that I’m sick” he mumbles against your neck.  

You are about to respond when your phone starts ringing, you snarl as you look up ‘who the hell is calling me on a Saturday afternoon?” you whine as you reach for your phone.  You toss it on the coffee table almost as quickly as you picked it up.  

“You can answer that, I don’t mind, I can be a very good boy when I want to” he says as he winks at you.  “That is the bar, and it’s my day off…...and you are never a good boy, one of the many traits I love about you” you hum as he begins to assault your chest with his sinful mouth and tongue.  

Before he can continue, your phone starts ringing again and you whine as he stops “noooo, don’t stop!”   He hands you your phone as he gets up and heads into the kitchen.  

“This better be important” you practically yell as you answer the call.  “Uh, hey Y/N! It’s Gary, and I know it’s your day off but we got a last minute backroom booking and I need the best bartender in NYC.  Can you be here by 9?”  You don’t respond, only sighing into the phone  “I’ll pay you double!  And you can have tomorrow night off”  he throws in trying to change your mind.  

“It’s not about the money Gary, I haven’t had an entire day off in 4 months.   My body and brain need to do nothing but eat take out and catch up on bad reality tv” you argue, knowing it will do nothing to deter him from getting you into the bar tonight.   

You look up to see a beer being handed to you and smirk on his face “I can go down there and scare him if you want” he whispers, only making you giggle in response.  

“Ok, I’ll pay you for not working tomorrow night, please I really need you!”  “Fine, quit begging, but I’m only agreeing because I lost my evenings entertainment. See you at 9!” you say before hanging up without letting him respond.   

“Looks like my evening just got filled and I’ll be slinging booze rather than recuperating from today’s activities” you pout as you sip your beer.  “Well it’s almost 6, so let's order some Chinese food and go for round 5 before we have to return to the real world” he responds sitting next to you with his arm around your shoulders.  

“Yes, but food first, I just hope I’ll be able to walk tonight.  You have one hell of a libido!” you yell as he attacks your neck again.  “Only for you, beautiful”

The time passes by faster than you like and you both shower before dressing.  You are dressed and starting on your makeup when he walks into your room for a final kiss goodbye.  “Damn, it is hard to leave when you look that good with clothes on” he eyes you up and down causing you to blush.   

“Hey, why don’t you come by the bar after your meeting and we can continue what you started, handsome!” leaning back into his strong chest.  “That sounds perfect, I’ll text you on my way!” and before you can respond he is running out the door, you just shake your head and laugh knowing he’s gonna be late and doesn’t even care.  

Heading out of your apartment  you decide to stop for coffee before hopping on the subway.  It’s been a long and tiring day, in the best way possible, but you are expecting it to be a long night too since it’s a private event and there are always stragglers that have no intention of leaving when someone else is footing the bill.  

Walking into the bar, you begin to wonder who books a last minute party on the weekend but decide it doesn’t really matter.   You had an amazing day with your amazing man and were getting paid double, so it was definitely a win/win, even if your thighs were more sore than you realized before you left your apartment. 

Note to self, uber the next time you have an all day sexcapade.  You start to giggle at the thought when you make your way to the back room and start rearranging the bar to your preference.  .

”Finally!  I was beginning to worry you were going to stand me up!” Gary yells as he makes his way over to you.   “Are you kidding? You offered me a lot of money to be here, and I have student loans out the wazoo!  This is the second best thing that's happened to me today.” you state, not bothering to look up as you are wiping down the bottles.   

“And by the look of that stupid grin on your face, I’m going to assume a certain someone is the first?” he questions, but you just shake your head and smirk.  

“When is the party supposed to arrive?  Any special requests I need to know about?” you ask in an attempt to change the topic as quickly as possible. 

“They will be here any minute now and you are the only one back here tonight, but it’s only 10-12 guests so you should be fine.  But let me know if you need a cocktail server or bar back, I can’t spare both but I’ll pop in and help when I can” he smiles and turns back to the bar area of the bar.   

You are digging for the better rocks glasses when you hear people enter the room and turn to smile at the arriving guests, only for your  face to immediately fall.  

“Are you kidding me Stark?!” you grit out.  “I can’t get away from you for a damn day?” you ask.  

“Oh, is this the bar you work at, behind my back? I had no idea” he states dripping in sarcasm.  “HA!” you fake a laugh “so this is my payback for not telling you?”  “No, actually, Birdman told me about the uniform and I had to see  for myself” he says, eyeing you up and down. 

“I have to say, you look different than I anticipated and a little hurt that we don’t get to see this side of you in the lab.”  You shake your head and laugh at yourself, this wasn’t how you expected your night to go, but at least you knew your clients weren’t just a bunch of assholes.   

These people were your friends, practically family since you started working for Stark.  “So Tones, what can I get you?  I don’t think we’ve ever drank together, so I honestly don’t know if you are a Scotch neat or martini kind of man”  

“Well, a little birdie told me that this bar has cocktails named after me and my friends, so that’s why I’m here, I wanted to check them out!” he smiles and you realize he’s either testing your bar-tending skills to prove to you that you don’t need this other job or his curiosity is going to be boosting his ego, either way, tonight will be fun.   

“We do have a few, here is the Avenger cocktail list.” you say handing him the list with a smirk, knowing you will be making all of these drinks by the end of the night.  

“Well, since you’ve worked here so long, what do you recommend?” he replies while looking over the various drinks “and why am I not listed at the top?  If it’s not in alphabetical order, it should at least be listed by best Avenger at the top”  

“Well, it’s listed by most popular drink, so if you want something sweet, I would go for The Cap America, if you need something more of a punch try the Black Widow, if you want to get revved up but not remember much of your night you should go for the Hulk.  The Iron Man is an acquired taste, but it’s definitely worth a try, but most people don’t order a second one” just describing the drinks to him, you wonder if he thinks you are commenting on the drinks or the people behind them.  

“Thor is pretty good if you want something simple, Hawkeye is both strong and sweet, Scarlet Witch is one of my personal favorites, along with the Bucky.” you stare at him with your hands resting on the bar top.  

“Wait a damn minute!  I am in this bar all the time and there’s no Falcon cocktail?  What the hell Y/N?” Sam yells from behind Tony.  

“I’m sorry, I don’t get to  decide what goes on the menu, but I am working on creating your drink” you respond as sweetly as possible.  “I’m just stuck on how to make a drink that people will enjoy, but is also a pain in the ass" you smirk as Sam realizes what you just said. 

"I didn't know it was pick on Sam day, but I've had enough! Can I have a beer and tequila shots? I came here to have a good time and I feel attacked right now."  

"Of course, whatever you want Sam" you say as you grab a mug and start to pour his favorite beer.  Handing it to him with a smile, he leans in and pecks you on the cheek, “you’re lucky I love you enough to put up with your shit” he grumbles as he walks towards the tables.  

After fixing all of the specialty drinks for everyone to try the signature cocktail you are certain that the night has just begun.  You are wiping down the bar top when you look up to see Bucky grinning at you, turning you realize Natasha is at the bar for another round.  

“Same drink or would you like something else, Nat?”  “Do you have any decent vodka or am I just wasting your time?” she asks with a laugh.  “We actually carry Jewel of Russia, but that’s about as good as it gets, I’m sorry Tony dragged you out tonight just to torment me.” you mention while grabbing the bottle from the fridge and a handful of shot glasses.  

“I was wondering what this last minute outing was all about, I figured it was Barnes trying to let you see him in a more relaxed state” she quips while trying to gauge your reaction.  

“Bucky?  Him and Sam are in here all the time, and I’m not sure why you think he would want me to see him relaxed…..” you reply while setting up a tray for the shots.  Natasha grabs two before you can even fill more.  “Well, I’ve never seen him gawk at a bartender, like he is tonight”

“I think you are reading into something that isn’t there, but why don’t I take this tray over and test your theory?” you say while grabbing the tray of shots and placing the bottle of vodka in an ice bucket.  

Noticing that Bucky was watching most of your conversation you make sure to sway your hips a bit extra and set the tray down in front of the team. 

“Alright gang, let me get some of these empties out of here and grab a couple more rounds for you.  Any special requests?” you smile around the group seated in the overstuffed chairs and couches.  

“Hey Buck, anything you want to ask Y/N for?” Natasha says with a sweet tone.  “Like a date maybe?” she adds just as Bucky was about to ask for a drink.  You chuckle slightly look over at Bucky who seems to be a bit in shock.  

“Uh, nah, I don’t think I’m Y/N’s type” Bucky says attempting to brush off Nat’s comment and not draw more attention to the conversation.  With the glasses gathered in your hands, you start to head back to the bar before responding ‘yea, tall, dark and handsome isn’t my type” you smirk as you walk away.  

Immediately the entire crew is carrying on like a bunch of teenagers and egging Bucky on to follow you to the bar.  You are starting to pour a few pints when Bucky clears his throat to gain your attention.  

“So you think I’m tall, dark and handsome, huh?” he almost whispers.  “Well, that’s the PG version of what I think about you, didn’t want to get you into any trouble with your roommates.  Are you coming back over when this little party is over?” you ask with a smirk.  

“Oh, you know I am, I owe you a couple more orgasms today.   As long as I get to help you out of that sexy uniform.”

[deans-mind-palace]

Suspirium (Pt.3)

Pairing: Prof!Sam x Reader

Summary: You’re in your last year of your Classics and Mordern Languages studies and you’re majoring in Latin and English. Then you get assigned to a different Latin teacher. And damn, he loves his subject. Too bad that he’s also hot. What is just a childish crush soon develops into something way more complicated.

Word Count: 2,420

Warnings: Awkward meetings? I think that’s a warning. ;) Slowburn.

Author’s Note: Third chap. I’m terribly sorry that it took me some days, but it’s twice as long as normally and I have the full story plotted now. Things in cursive are translations for the reader. Also, this is a slow burn story! Show it some love with likes, comments and reblogs. But most important, have fun. 

Suspirium - Masterlist

You had ignored the annoying questions of your best friends all day yesterday and this morning as well. They were dying to know how you felt about Professor Winchester's first lecture. After all, they didn't know that you had met him before by chance, when he spilled his coffee on you. You didn't know exactly why, but something tempted you to keep quiet about your encounter with the young professor. What was there to tell? It had been an accident and he had invited you in for coffee. Nothing more. No big deal.

Your last lecture for the day was already over and in a few minutes you would meet Sa- Professor Winchester in the little café around the corner. You entered the café and looked around, but there was no sign of Professor Winchester. A glance at your mobile phone told you that you were a few minutes early. Shoulder shrugging, you looked for a seat by the window. It was your favourite seat, because you had a beautiful view over the park. You were always sitting here and following the course of nature. Leaves rose, turned green, changed colour and fell off again. Every year it was the same. The eternal course of nature.

Sam saw you through the window when he arrived at the cafe. Your fingers thoughtfully twisted a strand of hair between your fingers while you looked out over the park with a dreamy look on your face. A gentle smile played around your lips and he struggled to tear himself away from the sight. You looked so calm and peaceful that it fascinated him immensely. You sat there like a Roman goddess. As if you were holding the world in balance just by being.

He loosened his shirt collar with two fingers before taking a breath and entering the room. Immediately your eyes fell on him and you waved at him. A smile lit up your face and Sam made his way through the guests to the table in the back. He sat down opposite you and smiled at you. "Good afternoon, Professor Winchester," you greeted him, but he interrupted you laughing. "Please do not stand on formalities. I am Sam." He reached out to you as if you were seeing each other for the first time in your lives. Laughing, you reached out and played along to his game. "Hi, Sam. I'm Y/N." He winked slyly at you. "Y/N. That's a beautiful name. You know the Latin version? Many names have a Latin origin or a corresponding version," he explained and you denied yourself a smile. His hazel eyes sparkled in the golden autumn light. "Yes, I knew that." You replied, loosening up a bit. You were afraid that it would become too formal and strange between you, but that was not the case. Sure, what were you thinking? After all, it was just a cup of coffee.

You talked about some petty things like how the year had started for you and how nice the weather was when Sam finally offered to get the coffee from the counter. "What would you like?" he asked you as he got up. A few strands of his brown hair fell down into his eyes, making him look almost mischievous. He looked younger that way anyway. Today he only wore a dark green t-shirt, a leather jacket and dark jeans, which sat on him and accentuated his tight ass. Every woman would have been jealous at the sight of his backside. "Y/N?" He cleared his throat and stared at you worried. "You all right?" Sam asked you.You flinched in surprise. "Um, yeah, of course. A caramel cappuccino, please." A little embarrassed, you tugged your top straight. Sam nodded. "Got it. I'll be right back." he promised and you followed him to the counter with your eyes.

Suddenly, your phone rang. You looked at the screen. Brooks' name shining in bright letters off the screen. In a hurry, you took a look at the queue where Sam was standing and answered the call.

"Hey Brooks. This is kind of a bad timing. Can I call you back?" you answered, but your best friend stopped you right there. "I haven't heard from you since yesterday! I thought you were dead. Where the fuck are you? What the hell are you doing?" Sam paid as you spoke. "It's a long story. I can't talk now, but I'll tell you later, okay? I promise." He sighed and you could tell by the tone of his voice that he was massaging his temples. "I was worried, Y/N." You smiled at Brooks' care. "I appreciate that. It's all good." Sam made his way up to you with two steaming cups and put the pleasant-smelling hot drink in front of you. "Look, I really have to hang up now. I'll see you later." And before he could say anything back, you ended the call.

Sam sipped his coffee and gave you a questioning look. "Your boyfriend? Is it okay for us to meet? No, I'm sorry, that's none of my business." he said calmly, but his eyes did not leave yours. "What, Brooks? No, he's just a friend." Sam nodded understandingly. "Even if he did, why wouldn't it be all right?" you asked, honestly surprised, and he nearly choked on his coffee. You were still stirring around with a spoon in yours. "Well, there's not that much age difference between us. Not that he thinks - never mind, forget what I said," he stuttered and a slight blush ran down his face. Sam bit his tongue in annoyance and avoided your gaze. Was he hinting at...? It was a simple statement of fact, since it was the truth, nothing more. Embarrassed, you sipped your coffee and closed your eyes with relish as the caramel descended on your tongue like mist. It was a creamy and intense taste. You sighed delightfully, which made Sam laugh. "I ordered twice the amount of caramel. As compensation."

For a few minutes you drank your coffee silently and sometimes smiled at each other over your cups. "So-" Sam finally broke your silence. "Why Latin?" He seemed genuinely curious. "I could ask you the same question," you replied, which made him laugh. "That's right. You first, then me." You didn't have to think for a second. "I chose Latin in the sixth grade so I'd have an easier time learning French later. But over time I became more and more interested in the Latin phrases, the view of the world of ancient Rome and literature and poetry. My Latin teacher recognized this early and encouraged me from the beginning. In the end, I did my A-Levels in Latin instead of French as I had planned. But you can't earn money with Latin alone, but since I always liked writing and languages, I decided to study English and Classics without further ado. The roots of our language today. Latin is the language of law, architecture and engineering, the military, science, philosophy, religion and - of particular interest here - the language of a flourishing literature which for centuries served as a model for all Western literature". You paused for a moment and looked away somewhat embarrassed. You had let yourself be carried away again when you spoke of your passion. You were used to people not understanding your feelings and only moaning when you started again, so you had stopped. You were just waiting for Sam's rejection, but as soon as you raised your eyes you saw the same passion in his eyes that you only knew from yourself.

A warm smile lay on his lips and his hazel eyes sparkled. He really seemed to understand what you were talking about, for he nodded violently. "The Latin of literature speaks of love and war in hundreds of masterpieces, reflects on the body and soul, develops theories about the meaning of life and the tasks of man, about the fate of the soul and the nature of matter, sings of the beauty of nature, the meaning of friendship, the pain of losing all that is dear to one; and it criticizes depravity, ponders death, the arbitrariness of power, violence and cruelty.

It creates inner images, puts emotions into words, formulates ideas about the world and social life. Latin is the language of the relationship between the One and everything" he completed your thoughts. You looked at him in surprise. "Exactly!" You both began to laugh. Then you both beamed at each other. You sipped your coffee. The caramel melted on your tongue and tasted pleasantly sweet. You put your cup back on the table with a soft clink and cleared your throat.

"And how did you come to learn Latin?" you asked and had trouble hiding your curiosity. He stirred thoughtfully in his coffee and the good mood seemed to have vanished. You were about to apologize in case you had said something wrong, but then Sam started to tell his story.

"Well..." He was shuffling around a bit. "I-I had a not-so-easy childhood. My mother died early and left my dad, my brother and me alone. My dad never got over her death, everything reminded him of her. He couldn't handle the pain and liked to drown it in alcohol. We often moved and he sometimes left us alone for days without knowing where he was or if he would come back. My brother and I were mostly on our own. Each of us dealt with the situation differently. I read a lot and enjoyed living in my own world, far away from the harsh reality. I had been interested in mythology from an early age on. It was my dad's thing and I soon came into contact with it. I loved these stories about brave soldiers, beautiful goddesses, adventurous ship journeys and fearless gladiators. Latin helped me escape from my screwed-up family. I found my way to poetry and literary writing. I became enthusiastic about translating stories, because it was my own secret language that no one else but me knew. They only knew a few sentences. Through Latin I was able to direct my many interests towards a common goal. Eventually I went to Stanford to study law. It contains a few Latin terms, but can't be compared to Roman law. In the end I returned to my passion and changed course. Now after years, here I am." Sam shrugged his shoulders and his eyes flickered uncertainly.

You hung spellbound on his lips as he told you the story of his life. He was such an open and friendly person that it was hard to imagine how much his childhood must have shaped him. When he finished his story, you still clung to his last words in your mind. He misunderstood your silence and looked at you nervously. He looked at you nervously. "I - oh, God. You probably don't care about that. You don't want me to tell you. It's inappropriate for me to tell you this as your professor." He was coughing and sipping his coffee in a hurry. Somehow he had let himself get carried away when he talked to you like that, because normally Sam didn't talk much about himself, but when you smiled at him broadly, he paused in surprise. "It's all right, Sam. I'm glad someone understands my passion. And I know what you mean. My childhood wasn't easy, either, not as extreme as yours, but I have history of my own." You felt your mood change when you thought about your parents and decided not to elaborate. Sam didn't ask any further, almost as if he sensed how uncomfortable you were with the subject. For a while, you went back to your petty banter. Sam liked your passion. The fire in your soul. Your love of the language that had been his best friend as a child. You knew what he was talking about. He was fascinated by you. You were no different.

"Well, I um... This may be a little inappropriate, but I spent a year in Italy as part of my studies and, well, that's when I started writing a book on the beauty of Latin." You started talking. Sam looked at you with interest gleaming in his beautiful hazel eyes. "Really?" "Yes. I'm on my own so far, but I need someone who knows something about Latin. An expert opinion, so to speak." You took a deep breath. Sam nodded. "You want me to read it?" he asked and you nodded in relief. He had understood what you wanted to say. Still you were a bit unsure. Sam was a real expert.

What if he thought your book was a load of bullshit? It was your heart project. Were you able to handle the criticism? "I've never let anyone read it before and-" But Sam interrupted you. As he smiled, his teeth gleamed brightly between his pink lips. "I'll do it. I'd be honored to be the first to read your work," the young professor told you. Joy filled you and filled your face with a beam that he reflected instantly.

You happened to catch a glimpse of the clock hanging over the door a little to the side of Sam's head. You were startled and began to curse. You had been here for almost three hours! "Oh crap. I am so late!" You hurriedly gathered your things and threw your bag over your shoulder. "I'm- I'm really sorry, Sam. But I have to go now or I'll be late for work!" You felt sincere regret that you couldn't just sit here for hours and talk to him. Sam didn't want you to go either, but you both remained silent about it. Sam sat at your table still a little perplexed and watched you put on your jacket. "I'd be glad if we could continue this sometime." It all happened a bit too fast for Sam, and he looked overwhelmed as he scratched his neck and ruffled his hair. "Um... Yeah, sure. No problem. I'd love to." he finally said and gave you a smile that you responded with relief. "All right, I really have to go. Bye, Sam." "Vale. Goodbye," he said with a wry grin and made you laugh. You hugged him quickly and his aftershave got up your nose, then you hurried out of the café and left a frozen Sam behind. Then you realized that you had just quickly hugged your professor. You got red in the face.

Tags beneath cut. Wanna get tagged? Drop an ask or comment in or add yourself to the Sam taglist with the link in my bio.

Sam Tags: @ashthefirefox​ @rintheemolion​ @fortheentries​ @vexhye​ @traceyaudette​ @zeppette​ @thewintersoldierswife​ @outofnowhere82​

[viogsquad]

august evenings - david dobrik

authors note; this one wasn’t requested, just something i thought of late last night! please send in feedback, reblog or like idm. requests are open for a little while longer. i also do blurbs if you want to send them in, just let me know that its a blurb request and not a full on fic.  word count; 3.2k. warnings; dom!david [ofc], masturbation, kinda public sex.

You were sure that it was the muggy humidity of the red-hot August evening that caused you to become so unreasonable with your words and the way you acted in a public area with your loving partner and closest friends by your side. The light, pretty summer dress you had decided to wear was sticking to your skin which you pulled at hastily, your frustration levels growing by the passing second as you listened to fellow friends make jokes that you would usually laugh at, this time you just stared dead ahead and prayed for the celebration to be over and done with quickly.

Or maybe it was the amount of booze you had consumed over the hours you had been stuck at the garden party - you needed something to get you through it. Long chats about YouTube did nothing but bore you, fake laughter shared between people who disliked each other irritating you, the falseness causing you to roll your eyes whenever an overly friendly remark was made. You couldn’t stand being at such events like this, especially when you didn’t fit in. You weren’t like David and the other members of the vlog squad, you had yourself a normal job like others and the events did not cater to people such as yourself. Discussions of video ideas, subscriber counts and the latest change to YouTube were of no relevance to you but you plastered a smile on your face for your boyfriend's sake and his sake only.

In the end, you decided that it was sexual frustration and nothing else. David had woken you up to kisses along your neck before moving in between your thighs, bringing you close to your orgasm before moving away and deciding that he was going to have a shower. You hated how much he teased, his talented fingers teasing you through the day as they glided along the inside of your thighs before moving away and acting as if he hadn’t got you all excited for nothing. You were longing for a release, desperate to taste him in your mouth or have him inside of you.

You tried to act calm and casual for as long as possible but David was no fool and could see the lack of availability in your eyes. Whenever he tried to make any type of contact with you, you would push him away and mumble an excuse before finding the table that was filled with expensive booze, finally deciding that if he was going to leave you high and dry then you would not give him any attention. The sun was slowly setting, an orange colour taking over the blue sky and the chats became more mellow, some people leaving the party to get back home or to be more adventurous with the Los Angeles nightlife. Like always though, David was still lingering around, deep in discussion with YouTubers about advertisements and sponsorship's as he filmed some content to put in the next vlog.

The slamming of your glass on the table had David, and others, turning their attention towards you. Quickly mumbling an apology to Casey, David made his way over to you to see what all the fuss was about. His arm wrapped around your waist as he dragged you towards a more secluded area of the garden where no-one would listen in on the conversation - or argument at the way things were going. Just from the way David walked you could tell he was annoyed, his jaw clenched and eyes wandering around the garden to check that no-one was looking.

“Are you going to tell me what the problem is or do you expect me to figure it out on my own?” David asked, his hands gripping your waist as he pushed you up against a tree, the bark pressing against the material of your dress and no doubt making it mucky. Your eyes fell to ground and refused to look into his, not wanting to cave in straight away, your hands fumbling with the bottom of David’s denim jacket that you adored. You refused to respond out of spite, bratiness something that David never appreciated but you didn’t appreciate being forced into a social situation where most of the people attending just wanted to use your boyfriend for his subscribers and views. “Don’t make me ask again,” he continued, voice only audible to you so he didn’t cause a scene.

David’s eyes kept shifting upwards, double checking that no-one was coming over to see what was occurring, the last thing he needed was an audience to your bratty behaviour. “I’ve told you; I want to go home.” Was all you said, somewhat feeling selfish for wanting to leave when David was still interacting with people but you knew him well enough to know that he would happily leave if that’s what you wanted, he was just being stubborn for the fun of it, just like you were acting like a menace for the fun of it. “I don’t like being surrounded by all these people, David. Can you not see that most of them are only acting all nice because they want to use you for their own gain?”

“You don’t know that, you're just making excuses up because you want to go home,” David scoffed, head shaking slightly at your comment. “Look, just another hour and then we can go, I promise. Let me get some footage of Heath and Zane being idiots and then we can go straight to the car.”

“I’ll just get a fucking uber, it will be quicker.” You attempted to walk away but David’s hands wrapping around your wrist and pulling you back stilled your movements, his fingertips gently digging into your wrist as a warning. “What do you want, David?” You snapped. A few people had turned their attention towards you but one quick look from David had them resuming their discussions.

David’s thumb ran across the palm of your hand as he tutted. “I’m going to presume it’s the alcohol you’ve had that’s making you act like this because you wouldn’t do this on purpose, would you? Maybe it’s the weather making you agitated, I don’t know. I just hope you're not doing this on purpose because that wouldn’t be fair.”

You knew that rolling your eyes at his words would not go down well but you couldn’t help yourself, the hot sun and champagne that had been placed out was getting to you drastically and causing you to put on a dramatic performance. “I just don’t like these events and that’s final,” you answered, not giving David a proper answer to the questions he was asking.

“Final?” He raised one eyebrow at your attempt to argue with him.

“Yes.” Pushing David away with all the strength that you had, you gave him a mocking smile before nodding towards the exit and placing one hand on your hip. “Now, am I getting an uber or are we going home and have you taken care of me?”

David understood the double meaning in your words and thankfully, nothing else needed to be said. His hand was in yours as he led you through the slowly vanishing crowd, mumbling something quick to Heath before raising his eyebrows in your direction. Heath laughed at whatever David said, angering you even more but you let it slide as you walked to where the car was parked.

“So then, are you going to tell me what’s gotten into you?” David asked, firing the car up and speeding away from the location of the party. Your hands played with the hem of your dress, eyes focused on the passing streets of Los Angeles and the young adults who were preparing themselves for a night out in the clubs. “That frown you are sporting doesn’t suit your pretty face.”

“These bullshit parties you attend don’t suit you either.”

“Can you not just answer my question or do you always need to talk back?” David asked, his spare hand moving to your thigh which he gripped harshly, another warning for you to stop. The back of your thighs was sticking to the leather seat of the expensive car causing you to wriggle around in your seat. David’s hand left your skin, a soft whine coming from you at the loss of contact. “Misbehaved all night and now you want my attention, it doesn’t work like that.”

Slowly, you let your tongue glide over your lips as you watched David’s hands tighten around the steering wheel and you mentally envisioned his fingers digging into your sides as he pinned you either against or the wall or into the bed sheets instead of the leather. You understand the dangers of leaning across the seats and pressing your mouth against his and you curse him silently for not flicking the car into autopilot and giving you a quick kiss, just something to get you along until you arrived back at home.

“How does it work then, David?”

David sucked on his teeth and attempted to ignore you, knowing full well that you were only trying to wind him up. You had succeeded so far, your words and angsty behaviour riling him up all night but he wasn’t going to vocally admit that to you, he would wait until you were alone in the bedroom where no-one could hear you cry out his name as you begged for forgiveness.

“Don’t make me pull up on the side of the road [y/n],” he warned, jaw clenched and foot pressing down on the gas pedal. “Won’t be able to walk straight for a week if I do,” he continued, eyes flickering over to check what your expression was. He could read you well, knew that you were soaked under your dress and desperate for some sort of touch but the secret side of David that only you saw was slowly coming out to play and that was dangerous territory.

“Sounds tempting.”

You finally turned to look at David, the bright lights of LA no longer appealing when your boyfriend looked as good as he did. His denim jacket was always your favourite along with the simple black cap he wore, a straightforward outfit that he managed to pull off so well. His neck looked inviting, almost begging you to leave a series of marks along the pale skin so he would struggle to cover it up in the morning when everyone came around to film some content. Those nights were your favourite, when David was at your beck and call and would do whatever you wanted, his wrists red and orgasm ruined. It wasn’t going to be one of those nights though.

David ignored your comment as he continued to drive back to your shared home, the journey seemingly longer and you swore that he went the long way home on purpose just to tease you and get you more wound up. The tesla was becoming hotter with every second, the car windows that were rolled down doing nothing. Sweat was forming along your hairline, sticking your locks to your forehead and causing a shine on your skin.

Knowing that you were still a good twenty minutes away due to traffic, you slowly slid your dress up your thighs until it circled as your waist, your lace underwear on show for David. “What are you doing?” Was the only question David could ask, repeating it a few times as he struggled to keep his eyes on the road to see if the car in front was moving forwards. You shrugged your shoulders innocently as you pulled your underwear down your exposed thighs, flicking the garment onto David’s lap which he quickly threw backwards, he refused to give into you.

“If you're not going to do anything about it then I might as well sort myself out. What are you going to do about it, David? Can’t exactly pull over when you're stuck in the middle lane, can you?”

“Don’t,” he whispered, mouth turning dry at the sight of you bringing your feet to the leather so you had better access. “People will see.”

“Let them.”

Rolling the windows up, David positioned himself so he was more comfortable, his eyes glued on your wandering hands. “Put on a show for me then, sweetheart.” He hated that he gave you into you so quickly.

Hair was falling into your face as you arched your back, the feeling of your fingers pressed against your clit bringing you a wave of pleasure that ran through your body. You hadn’t quite realised how desperate you were, your fingers already soaked after one simple touch. Nothing could compare to the feeling of David’s fingers though, nights spent alone in bed while he was in Chicago not getting rid of the sexual tension and you cursed him for being so skilled when it came to making you squirm. David adored seeing you in a vulnerable position, watching as your back arched off the hot leather seat and your free hand gripped whatever it could. It was erotic and sending his head into a spin. Words of encouragement fell from his mouth as you continued to work yourself to your peak.

“David,” you moaned loudly as you inserted one finger, picturing the sight of your boyfriend between your legs in the early hours of the morning. “I need you so bad.”

“I know,” he whispered, leaning over to press his mouth against your neck. “I can’t give you what you want though, can I? All because you couldn’t wait to get home. Impatient, aren’t you, girl?”

“Please,” you whispered, the feeling of two of your fingers bringing you pleasure but not like David’s did. You needed something from him, even if it was simple. “Don’t make me wait any longer. I’ve needed you all night, been waiting so patiently for you - “

“I know, I know,” he repeated, thumb stroking your warm cheek. “Bet they don’t fill you up as good as mine.” His mouth waters and he has to keep licking his lips to stop himself from drooling at the sight of you looking completely spent in the front seat of his expensive car.

Your eyes roll back at his egotistical words even though you knew he was right. Your thumb rubbed against your clit slowly as you let out a long moan, your hips flying forwards and sending your index and middle finger knuckle deep. Your free hand moves to David’s, grabbing it and squeezing tightly as you worked your way to the edge.

The sound of a car beeping behind you had you jumping forwards and pulling your dress down to cover your body, your orgasm running away and turning into nothing as David loudly swore and restarted the car. David ordered you to open your mouth, your breath caught in your throat when he slipped two fingers into your warm mouth. Your eyes fluttered shut as you moaned around his fingers, small hand grabbing his wrist to keep him in place.

“Hike your dress back up for me, doll,” he instructed. David’s fingers were dancing across your exposed thighs, fingers getting closer to your cunt before sliding back down, not willing to give up on the game the two of you had been playing for almost an hour now. You longed for an orgasm, you previously one ripped away cruelly because of impatient drivers that couldn’t wait an extra ten seconds.

You needed to feel his cold rings on the inside of your thigh, leaving imprints in their wake as he slowly moved upwards until he was finally filled you up with his fingers. “Thank you,” you managed to get out when David finally slipped two fingers inside of you, his other hand on the wheel as he drove through the quieter streets of LA.

“Not a problem,” he replied, voice sweet and soft as he listened to you moan out his name, your hips bucking against his fingers. Your arousal was dripping down his fingers and past his rings, his fingers knuckle deep inside of you and moving at a speed that had you scratching your nails along the leather. You ignored the comment he made about having to get the Tesla cleaned seen as you were an impatient girl and focused on your orgasm, your eyes fixed on David. “So wet,” he seductively whispered, bottom lip tucked in between his teeth. “All for me, yeah?”

You nodded and bucked your hips. “Always for you,” you responded, head tilting to the side slightly and banging against the window.

You moved your hand to David’s thigh and moved across until you met his hard cock, a quiet groan coming from David at the sudden contact. “It’s your time, darling, not mine.”

“Want to make you feel good.”

“Oh you will, trust me - “David was interrupted by your moan, your chest heaving up and down as you said his name like a prayer, orgasm getting closer and closer with every thrust of his fingers. David was struggling to drive, his eyes stuck between looking in between your thighs and on the road. Grateful that he was on a quieter street, David pulled over and turned the car off, his fingers soon returning to your cunt. “Fuck girl,” he whispered, his body leaning over the handbrake as he kissed your mouth and silenced your moans.

His tongue was wet on yours as he swallowed your moans, your face a picture of bliss when he pulled away and moved his free hand to your throat, applying slight pressure as he tilted your head up and exposed your skin to him. Your eyes were glued to the roof of the car as you wriggled around in the seat, the feeling of David’s teeth sinking into your neck as he left marks making the burning feeling in your stomach grow with every passing second.

“I’m going to cum,” you managed to get out, words broken up. David didn’t have a chance to encourage you, your orgasm ripping through your body at lightning speed as you came around his fingers, his name the only thing that came from your lips as you arched your back and clenched your thighs together.

“Good girl, such a good girl,” David whispered as he helped you ride out your orgasm, leaving open mouthed kisses along your cheeks sloppily. “So good for me, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry for acting like a brat,” you said slowly, turning your body to the side and wrapping your arms around David’s neck. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“I know you will, darling.” A chaste kiss was pressed against your lips before David was pulling away and restarting the car. “Ten minutes until we get home so ten minutes for you to sort yourself out and prepare for what’s coming your way.”

You smiled softly to yourself, excited to have David to yourself for the night without anyone being around. You shot Natalie a quick text, briefly informing her of your plans without going into too much detail so she could arrange to stay elsewhere. A plan of action was already forming in your head, ways that you could get David back for his own behaviour that day and when you turned to look at him, affectionately placing your hand on top of his, you knew that he was preparing himself for what was about to come his way.  

[hcrsegirl]

╰☆╮MUSE 46 — wait, is that cerise “reese” du pont? is it just me or does the twenty-one year-old look exactly like abigail cowen? last i heard, they still weren’t over being exposed by the sentinel. according to the app, they can be credulous & turbulent, but i’ve also heard they're intrepid & audacious. can’t be too sure, people have a way of surprising you. all i know is that they remind me of vape scented smoke appearing in the middle of lecture , filming viral tik tok’s in public , the brushing down of a horse , forgetting a pencil but remembering to bring the juul to class & drinking homemade moonshine for barbie movie drinking games. honestly, the broadcast communications major should try to keep their head down. after the events of last semester, i wouldn’t want to be in their shoes. ╰☆╮

wow hey hi hello!! i’m kaya and this is my lil crackhead, reese!! this got really long because i never know when to shut up but if you want to plot pls hit me up here on tumblr or on discord at medieval 4loko gang#5402

P A R A L L E L S

gigi ( booksmart ) , keanu reeves ( always be my maybe ) , serena van der woodsen ( gossip girl ) , kirby anders ( dynasty )

T R O P E S

hard-drinking party girl , cloudcuckoolander , the trickster , upper-class equestrian , fleeting passionate hobbies , naive animal lover , fearless fool , playing with fire , parental neglect , fantasy-forbidding father

S U M M A R Y

born and raised in wilmington, delaware on the du pont family ranch, reese learned how to ride and compete on her family’s thoroughbreds. she’s a seasoned equestrian who typically competed in eventing and throughout the years had accumulated a series of ribbons and trophies between dressage, cross-country, and show jumping. definitely was a horse girl growing up and tbh still is???? definitely not the type to eat grass anymore BUT if given the chance she will not shut up about them.

a veterinarian before marrying into the du pont family, reese’s mother had their ranch doubling as both a home and veterinary clinic where the kids would help with the animals and keep them company. this caused reese to develop a soft spot for them, one that contributed to her going vegetarian at the age of 12 and eventually vegan at 15. it was also this love of animals that led her to wanting to help the environment they lived in and so her parents put her in girl scouts and eventually her love for the outdoors would cause her to join steinhardt’s outing club.

while her mother, eleanor, also helps out with the du pont family business of breeding thoroughbreds as well as run her clinic, her father, pierre, is a chairman of dupont, a conglomerate who got its start in the black powder market before expanding into chemicals for agriculture, materials science, and specialty products.

he was the type to have HIGH expectations for his family, expectations that reese never met. not that she cared to. definitely not a daddy’s girl, she’ll be the first one to call her father out for being a pompous douche straight to his face. probably quoted this to her father during a thanksgiving toast of “what are we thankful for this year”.

the black sheep of her family, even at a young age she could be found stirring up some trouble and almost always dragging one of her siblings or cousins along with her. a rebellious child who didn’t like being put into a box, she lived in a fantasy world of whimsy, often playing make-believe much to her father’s chagrin. she believed in all things fantastical from fairies to mermaids and while pierre tried to stifle those thoughts, they stubbornly remained.

even through her teenage years she’s held onto the firm belief that barbie lore is real. no one knows if she actually believes that or if it’s all of the drugs and her love for the movies getting to her head, but when confronted about it she will always be adamant that it’s a legitimate form of history.

speaking of history, her concept of it is slightly skewed?? def has weird beliefs of what communists are?? like you’re an android user??? suddenly she thinks you’re a communist????

tbh you could probably tell her something about anything and she’ll believe you without a hint of doubt. research?? she dunno her!! you could say the moon is a government con-job and she’d think it’s a fact??? super gullible and it’s a mess

i guess now would be a good time to preface that she’s dumb. stupid. an idiot. the list goes on but when i say she’s lacking brain cells… i mean it. the definition of head empty, she probably has a bunch of rocks where her brain should be sdfgh. but really, she can be innovative when she wants to be but academically she just doesn’t care to do well. in high school she ditched classes more often than not and was probably the kid smoking under the bleachers.

but where she lacks in intelligence she makes up for in brawn??? def the brawn over brains type who was a jock in high school. competed for her school’s equestrian team but also was on the fencing and archery teams. she once begged to be put into archery lessons after seeing the princess diaries 2 and fencing just came along not too soon after. she also used to run track and play soccer but those two sports ended after her senior year of high school although she probably still plays for the steinhardt’s intermurral league as well as any athletic competitions her sorority, tri-zeta ( zeta zeta zeta ) enters.

definitely the jack of all trades type except she’s passable at a whole bunch of things but good at none of them. probably can change a tire but it’ll need to be changed again soon. can bake a cake but it’ll be a little dry. the list goes on. she’s just very curious and picks up a lot of things but gets bored of them easily so she changes to the next thing.

okay i know i said she could bake a cake but she really…can’t. like with supervision she probably could but she’s impulsive and following directions for that many ingredients??? impossible. she just gets tempted to toss everything into a bowl and wing it and she does that every time. she can however make rice krispy treats. especially if they’re suppose to be edibles dfghj. but ya, don’t ask her to cook bc she can. not.

a stoner and overall drug connoisseur, she’s probably most known for being that kid who forgets to bring their backpack to class but don’t worry!! she remembered her juul!! has a collection of juuls on her person at all times. definitely that party girl who shows up hungover to class whenever she did bother to show up.

calls herself an entrepreneur because she used to sell edibles and other drug-related things and definitely was that tweet where she would give discounts if you signed an environmental petition or went to a protest.

has never said no to a dare EVER. you name it and she’ll do it. and if you dare her to drink cow titty milk or eat a piece of meat she’ll do it but it just makes you a dick dfghj

gets bored easily and tends to lash out and do something chaotic because of it?? the type to spontaneously light a couch on fire because she felt like it. a mild pyromaniac who once learned how to make a molotov cocktail. she can’t do it well. at all. but the one time she did try was also the same day she realized what a dumpster fire looked like.

i’m also not saying she’s out here to ruin your life for her own whims but like home girl has ZERO boundaries for anything. if you want to say she was a homewrecker in a past relationship??? honestly full send because it probably was her. morally she’s chaotic neutral and doesn’t care to be good or evil, she just wants to live her life of chaos and whatever happens happens. it should also be noted that she’s selfish. she puts herself first and others second always.

god someone pls try to start a fight with her. she’d either pat you on the head and ignore you OR go feral and just…foam at the mouth and bite you. probably claims to have gingervitis which is where she like…sprays vegan whip cream into her mouth and just… attacks you. for fun.

WOW ALMOST FORGOT but she’s a big larper!!! loves to go to the ones that are historical-esque where she can be an elf ( because she has a collection of elf ear tips dfghjk ) and acts as a knight/ranger by using her ACTUAL fencing, archery, and equestrian skills. she learned sindarin ( elvish ) for this but also she’s a big lord of the rings fan in general so it just worked out. her character’s storyline is her acting as her cousin, taay’s, protector but she has been known to enroll in a few competitions regarding any of her three skills.

currently selling moonshine alongside her roommates of trap zeta ( also known as the residents of the moonshine & roses subplot ) and so if you saw her running around with stolen pressure cookers, that is why !! making your own alcohol is illegal, but selling it??? even worse so they only sell it to trusted customers and anyone vetted by their usual customers. they probably have secret passwords and shit just like the prohibition period.

speaking of trap zeta, with the exception of fraternities on greek row, they throw the biggest parties. their jungle juice??? fire AND strong but also, they keep it in like....these dispensing chugs with a key so the only ones with access to fill them up or trap zeta themselves. they also have a stripper pole ( or two ) around their living room so like...ya get lit, get twisted, go off ig.

let it be known that their sorority, tri-zeta, is actually known for their stellar amount of community service but after the residents of trap zeta moved in together their sophomore year, the rep for partying started to increase and that’s why the home of muse 46-50 is nicknamed trap zeta. reese has probably been sent to standards way too many times and only got in and is still in bc her mother is a very generous alumni of steinhardt’s chapter of tri-zeta. 

a broadcast communications major, she’s a social media intern for steinhardt’s barstool page but most importantly has a whole tik tok account alongside her roommates dedicated to their college antics. think the hype house except it’s not pg-13 dancing and rly just their crackhead, drunk antics. might eventually make a playlist of tik tok’s that are probably posted on their account, we’ll see.

okay so you know the whole exposing of secrets from last semester??? reese doesn’t usually get mad but rn she Big Mad. like not only are they be scrutinized by the dean but their sorority is too and suddenly tensions are high between tri-zeta bc if trap zeta gets caught they all suffer and their chapter will be shut down and it’ll be a whole ass mess. atm she suspects their customers and even their somewhat rivals, the drug dealers of the ludes plot, but does she suspect anyone from the house??? no not rly

you can find her  stats page here and a wc page here

you can also find her pinterest board here

i also have a reese playlist here and a trap zeta playlist here

[luvknow]

sincerely, hwang hyunjin

genre: ceo!fem reader x assistant!hyunjin | light humor ; fluff ; fake dating ; swearing ; alcohol consumption ; you have Lots of Money summary: being the company’s youngest ceo of one of the top soju brands in the country does not get easier as the days pass. you’re forever thankful for your assistant, hwang hyunjin, who knows everything about you and what it takes to keep your head on your shoulders. wc: 6.5k a/n: inspired by this post!

“Good morning, Miss _____!”

You were barely walking down the hallway towards your office when you heard Hyunjin’s greeting echo loudly, as it always did. When you asked him his first year of working here how he even knew it was you, he told you it was the way your heels clicked on the tiles. Apparently you just exuded CEO vibes by the way you walked, and it was one of the best compliments you’ve ever received. You’ll never understand why he doesn’t just wait for you to approach his desk to say hello, but you’d rather not question his, uh, uniqueness. It’s been like that for five years now, so there was no use in asking him to change his ways.

“Good morning, Hyunjin,” you replied groggily. “Do you want to get some coffee with me -”

The boy eagerly hands you your long-awaited iced americano with an extra shot of espresso. A sense of pride spread through his body as he saw your eyes glitter adoringly at the bitter drink.

“You’re a lifesaver,” you cried out.

“I know ~”

“Do you know what’s on the schedule today?”

“Yes, and you’re not going to like it.”

“Great... Break the news to me.”

“At 9, you have a conference call with the presidents of the company; at 10, you have a quick meeting with the quality assurance and control team to taste batch #003267; at 10:30, you have an interview set up for the opening office position; and at noon, you have lunch with your father.”

“Uuuuuuggggghhhhhhhh,” you groaned loudly and unladylike at the last part.

Ever since you took over the company, the only thing your father ever talked to you about was work. He’d ask about his favorite employees, how the product was selling, and how the competition was doing. He’d never how you were doing, or what was going on with your life outside of work - hell, he’s even asked how Hyunjin was doing! But never you.

“You’ll be coming with me to lunch, right?” you practically begged him.

“... Do I have to?”

“No, but I would really love it if you did ~ Please ~?” you pouted cutely.

Hyunjin sighed exaggeratedly. He could never say no to you when you looked at him like that. Who was he to say no to his boss, after all? “... Fine...”

“Thank God.”

“I feel like ever since I started here, I’ve been with you to every occasion where you’ve had to meet up with your father.”

“Not every occasion... It’s not like I have you there for the Holidays.”

“But you have tried to get me to be,” he accused. “You even bribed me with overtime pay.”

“Which you so foolishly rejected.”

“You know salary workers don’t get overtime pay, right?”

“Overtime, holiday bonus, potato, tomato, it’s all the same! You get more money out of it,” you muttered bitterly.

Hyunjin just rolled his eyes. You were always grumpy like this on Mondays, so your attitude was no surprise to him. He never found it annoying, or anything anyways. In fact, he thought you were quite cute like this, but he’d never admit that to your face in fear of you calling Human Resources on him.

From the start of your schedule until lunchtime, things went smoothly as they usually did. Of course your favorite part was the Quality Assurance testing - you never cared much for the chemistry behind all of the brewing and details of the soju, but you still took part in the testing because you got to drink shot after shot on the clock to make sure the flavors brewed tasted how they normally do.

“You know you can have a taste, too ~” you tempted the tall boy beside you before downing the last shot.

“No, thank you. I’ll never be able to take five shots of soju at 10:00am ever again,” he groaned.

“Ah, yes... I remember I had to have my driver take Little Trainee Hyunjin home because you were puking.”

“I was so sure you would have fired me after that.”

“No way! You did everything I asked of you when you were a trainee. I couldn’t lose such a valuable person so soon.”

“Glad to hear that my value at this company relies on me doing anything you say and almost dying because of it...”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Hyunjin,” you scoffed. “Though it is your job to do what I ask.”

“... So...”

When lunch rolls around, you’re not surprised that your father picks some fancy, probably Michelin Star restaurant with no customers inside because only people with your father’s money could afford to eat at a place like this. As you begrudgingly walk inside, you could tell Hyunjin was nervous. He wasn’t nervous because he was meeting your father - he’s done that plenty of times already. He’s nervous because he always felt out of place whenever he’s in public places with you. Whether you’d take him with you to business trips or simply treating him out to a nice lunch as a close friend, he always knew someone like him didn’t belong in places like these. No matter how hard you tried to convince him that being with you meant that he belonged, too, it never eased his nerves, so you learned to just let him calm down on his own.

You spotted not only your father, but your mother also, sitting at one of the tables and panic began to rise in your chest. Your Mom never liked to talk business when the whole family was together, so this must have been some other serious matter. Now you regretted bringing Hyunjin along. The poor boy was about to witness how dysfunctional your family was.

“Hi, Mom and Dad,” you greeted nervously. “I, uh, brought Hyunjin along because I thought this was a business meeting...”

“That’s all right, I should have told you your mother was coming,” your father smiled uncharacteristically. “It’s always a pleasure to have Mr. Hwang around.”

“Hello, Sir. Ma’am,” Hyunjin bowed deeply.

“No need for formalities. Please, have a seat.”

You and Hyunjin gave each other a quick side glance before sitting as if you two were kids caught doing something bad and now you were in trouble. Hyunjin probably was clear of all scolding that would be said today, but you were as ready as you’d ever be to receive all the nagging.

“The reason we wanted to meet with you today is because the big Charity Gala for foster children is coming up soon,” your Mom began. “You’ll be representing the company.”

“Of course.”

“Do you have anyone in mind you’ll be bringing as a date?”

“Uh, no? Can’t I just go alone?”

“Honey, this is the biggest Charity Gala of the year! You can’t just show up alone to these events,” she tisked. “It’s bad for publicity. Besides, wouldn’t this be a great reason to go out and meet someone?”

“Mom, where am I going to find a boyfriend in that short amount of time?”

“I’m not saying find a boyfriend just like that, I mean...”

Your father sighed at your mother’s lack of words. “What she’s trying to say is don’t you think it’s time to start dating...? Find someone you could marry one day?”

“What? Where is all of this coming from?”

“Nowhere! We’re just worried about you."

“What’s there to worry about? That I won’t bring a date to yet another gala full of your stuck up business friends? Who has the time to worry about that, anyways? Or the time to even consider dating when I’m running an entire enterprise on my own!?” Before your once-normal volume could reach the point of yelling, Hyunjin kicked you lightly under the table to let you know you were getting out of hand. You cleared your throat after you calmed down.

“Ok, you don’t have to bring a date,” your father began. “But I want you to talk to people while you’re there. Maybe you’ll meet someone you really like. I know a lot of men and their sons who will be attending and I can assure you they are good people, so just socialize a bit, ok?”

“Fine.”

“Good. I think this calls for a bottle of wine, if you ask me.”

The meal was mostly spent talking about work and the upcoming gala. Your father had already donated a healthy amount to the organization and instructed you to prepare some bullshit speech about how much you cared for everyone involved. The latter end of the meal was then spent catching up with Hyunjin’s personal life. Somehow you always knew that Hyunjin was like the son your parents had always wanted, so it was no surprise seeing how much they grew to love him in these past five years. There were times when you’d be so jealous of the little bits of affection he received, but what parent wouldn’t love him? He was a sweet, handsome, and smart boy - the poster child for the perfect kid.

“God, can you believe them!?” you groaned when you two arrived back at the office. “Forcing me to talk to their crusty old friends and their snobby sons as if I can’t get a man of my own - you know, they never believed in me as a child.”

“Yes, you’ve mentioned that before...”

“And like, why is bringing a date to these things a social requirement these days!? I don’t want to lug around some stupid boy as an accessory!”

“You don’t have any friends you’d want to bring?” Hyunjin asked.

“They’re all going, too, and with dates probably...”

As you both arrived to your desks, Hyunjin went ahead and sat back down in his, but you hadn’t walked into your office yet. Curiously, he looked up at you with a raised brow and noticed the childlike pout you had on your lips.

“What...?” Hyunjin asked nervously. Then it clicked in his head what you were silently begging for. “Oh, no.”

“Please ~?” you begged cutely.

“I refuse to attend a Gala where men’s cufflinks cost more than my paycheck.”

“I will literally buy you cufflinks, just please be my date!” 

Shamelessly, you got down on your knees in front of his desk and took his hands in yours. Your pouty, bug-eyed face was now in full-view in front of Hyunjin and he had no way of avoiding it. He should be used to this by now, since he always caved in to what you wanted when you did this, but he’ll still always blush whenever you held his hands.

“C’mon, please? You’ll be with me the whole time and we get to dress fancy, eat good food, drink expensive champagne - it’ll be fun, I promise.”

“I don’t have the proper attire -”

“Not a problem, let’s go shopping!” you cheered, pulling the confused boy up from his desk.

“Miss _____, we have a lot of work to do today -!”

“Which can be completed tomorrow.”

Hyunjin dramatically groaned as you dragged him out of the building, though he wasn’t complaining. These past couple of days, there was a lot of work to be done, so he was thankful for a break finally. It’s also been a while since the two of you spent time together outside of the office, and it was even more rare to see that you were excited about something. He’d never been so eagerly dragged out of the office before, let alone being hand-in-hand with you. You hadn’t let go until you walked into the elevator, went down thirty floors, walked out of the building, and into the car, as if you were afraid Hyunjin would make a break for it if you hadn’t been holding onto him.

You always adored how your hands fit so perfectly.

Hyunjin had one, maybe two suits buried somewhere in his closet. He’d wear them when you two went out to business dinners with potential buyers, but other than that, he had no reason to wear them, so he was excited to finally dust them off for this gala. Thinking you two were only going to to shop for cufflinks and maybe a tie, Hyunjin was surprised when the car pulled up to one of the country’s top suit stores, or whatever you call them.

“Eh? What are we doing here?” he asked when you both walked in.

“Buying you a suit?” you stated obviously.

“Wait, what? Miss _____, you don’t have to do that.”

“But I want to. Think of this as a present for tolerating me these past five years.”

“Miss _____...”

“And what did I say about the Miss?”

“To not call you that.”

“Yet you still do, huh? We’re friends, you know that, right?”

“Of course I do, but you’re still my boss.”

“We’re not even in the office!” you pouted.

“Ah, Miss _____, you’re so cute like a child,” Hyunjin snickered. “How are you so scary and cute at the same time.”

“That’s the best compliment I’ve ever received.”

Hyunjin didn’t have the worst taste in clothing - in fact, he’s consistently won best dressed as a superlative at the office - but when it came to actual formal wear, he had no idea what to look for.

“You said you’re wearing black, right?” he asked while flipping through his tenth rack of suit jackets.

“Yeah. The fabric is satin, if that helps.”

“I didn’t think that mattered...”

“Oh, Hyunjin, you helpless boy...”

You really hoped he would be the one to find something he liked, but after an hour of searching, you figured he needed a little help, so you shoved five complete designer suit sets in different shades and fabrics of black for him to try on. You knew this decision was going to be hard when he showed you wearing every single one and he looked good in all of them.

“They all look good on you,” you sighed. “I hate you.”

“I can’t help that I’m beautiful,” Hyunjin wore a bashful smile on his face as he smoothened the velvet suit jacket in front of the mirror. “I think I like this one the most.”

“Me, too. Let’s buy it.”

Hyunjin had never felt so embarrassed to purchase something before. When you were checking out at the register and you handed the cashier your heavy credit card, they eyed you both suspiciously and Hyunjin avoided eye contact out of embarrassment. In the eyes of the cashier and your blushing assistant, it must have looked like you were his Sugar Mama, or something.

“Why are you always so shy when we go shopping? People are going to have the wrong idea about us,” you scolded in the car.

“It’s embarrassing! Not even my Mom buys me things anymore...”

“Ah, so ungrateful.”

“Miss _____, that’s not what I -”

“Relax, I know you didn’t mean it that way. You don’t always have to be so tense around me, you know. We’ve worked together for a long time.”

“I just... I feel bad because I can’t pay you back.”

“You already have.”

“How!?”

“By dealing with me, of course.”

Throughout the rest of the car ride, Hyunjin can’t help but wonder if you would have done the same to anyone else. If you asked someone else to go with you to the Charity Gala, would you have bought them a suit, too? And why didn’t you ask someone else to go with you? He knows you have guy friends of much higher status than him that would give up their own arm to be in his position. It would do wonders on your reputation if you went with someone who was as highly-regarded as yourself to this gala and yet you chose someone as lowly as him, and for the past five years, he still doesn’t understand why.

What surprised him the most was how you’ve been single for nearly your whole life. Sure, you’ve been on a couple of dates here and there, but he’s never heard of you ever having a long-term boyfriend or even going on a second date. But how was that possible, when men of all ages and bank accounts have lined up for your attention ever since you took over the company?

Though looking back on all of the guys you once dated or the ones who pined over you, none of them could ever measure up to you. None of them even deserved the dates you so generously went on. To even share the same space with you was a privilege in itself, and for that, Hyunjin was grateful.

No one ever saw you the way Hyunjin did everyday. Others only saw you as cold and bossy and described you as such. Maybe if you were your father, or just a man, you would be seen as hard working and a natural leader, but that wouldn’t be the case for a long time. But Hyunjin saw you as hard working and a natural-born leader. You had a lot of pressure on your shoulders, so of course there were moments when you weren’t your most pleasant. But no one ever saw you during the holidays when you’d leave little presents on people’s desks, or when you giggled at kitten videos on your desktop, or the way your lips pouted when you were really tired.

No one else saw you as a girl or even a human. They only saw you as the boss. Hyunjin saw you as everything. You were his boss, a beautiful woman, and most importantly, his friend. You two have come a long way in five years, and Hyunjin hoped the years would continue on.

But one day, you’ll find someone you’ll fall in love with. Someone who will look at you for you, and not for your money. He would see you the way Hyunjin would see you and you’d return his gaze with such love in your eyes.

Whomever your future was with, he’d be a lucky man.

Tonight was another night spent with dry, old people dressed in fabrics richer than even your own paycheck. At least you’d be able to milk out the bar and the hors d’oeuvres platters with Hyunjin by your side.

As you were fixing your hair almost ready to go pick up your date, the doorbell rang. Curiously and cautiously, you went down to open the doors only to reveal a nervous, but suave Hyunjin on the other side.

Your handsome assistant was dressed in his all-black with the velvet jacket suit you bought him last week. He wore his hair completely different than when he did at the office. Rather than his bangs covering his forehead, he styled them with a charming curl that revealed his forehead.

“Hyunjin, what are you doing here? I was going to pick you up.”

His mouth was open, but no words came out, for he was too stunned to speak when you swung the door wide open to reveal you in your dress. He’s seen you in probably a million dresses before this one, but none ever made him as speechless as this one.

You were so, so beautiful.

His gawking was making your cheeks burn.

“I-I, uh...” he stuttered. “I didn’t want you to go out of your way...”

That boy was a real sweetheart. What did you ever do to deserve him?

“C’mon, let’s get this night over with,” you said, trying to hide your embarrassed smile.

Pulling up to the Gala was like pulling up at a red carpet event. The driver dropped you two off right at the front door where all the other CEOs and their sons filed in with their arm candy. Hyunjin was too afraid to open the door.

“Can you do me a favor tonight, Hyunjin?” you asked.

“Of course, Miss _____. Anything.”

“Will you pretend to be my boyfriend?”

The boy nearly choked on his own spit. “Wh-What!?”

“You can say no, of course.”

“No, I’ll pretend, but why? Is it so you don’t have to explain to anyone that you don’t have one?”

“Well yes, but I just thought it’d be fun.”

With a playful smirk, you exited the car first and strut your way to the main entrance with a stumbling Hyunjin following closely behind you.

“Ready to play house?” you teased.

“I practically play house with you whenever you drag me along to meet with your parents,” he scoffed.

“Good. Pretend this is one of those times.”

Pausing in the foyer, you held your hand out to your date, who only looked at it questioningly.

“Hm?” he asked, raising his brow cutely.

“Pretend boyfriends usually hold hands with their pretend girlfriends.”

With a sudden, foreign confidence, Hyunjin laced his hands with yours and followed your lead inside the main ballroom. Your eyes twinkled with the string lights that dripped from the ceiling and although your eyes danced about the room, taking in all the flowers and decorations, Hyunjin never took his eyes off of you.

“Miss _____!”

Not even five minutes inside and one of your father’s old business pals was approaching you and Hyunjin eagerly with his wife by his side.

“Hello, Mr. Choi,” you greeted respectfully.

“It’s so nice to see you again! I see you’re doing well. Who’s this?”

All eyes landed on your assistant and you can tell he’s nervous by the way he squeezed your hand tightly as if begging you for help. It was quite cute, actually.

“This is my boyfriend, Hyunjin,” you answered quickly.

“Boyfriend? Is that so? What do you do, Hyunjin?”

“O-Oh, well, I...”

“Oh look, Mr. Park wants to say hello! If you’ll excuse us.”

Before Mr. Choi could stop you, you dragged your date to the other end of the room and ended up hiding behind some waiters handing out the hors d’oeuvres. Shamelessly and bitterly, you let go of Hyunjin’s hand to shove a few pieces down your throat.

“Wow, I’ve never seen you so... barbaric...” he snickered. “You couldn’t think of a made-up profession for me?”

“Trust me, if I did, we’d be stuck in an hour-long conversation about the one semester you spent overseas for medical school, or some bullshit like that. There’s no use to lying to these people. All they want to do is one-up you and see who has the most money...”

“You think we can avoid all of those conversations tonight?”

“We can definitely try. Champagne?”

You stole two glasses of sparkling champagne from a moving platter and handed one to an eager Hyunjin who looked equally ready to loosen up a little with some drinks.

When the drink touched his lips, his face twisted cutely in disgust. 

“This shit’s gross!” he groaned. 

“I know, right?”

“How do you rich people drink this!?”

“By chugging it.”

“You know, it’s a real mystery why you don’t have a boyfriend when you exude so much class.”

“Hey, low blow, fake boyfriend.”

Throughout the night, while you both were avoiding all questions directed towards Hyunjin and his made-up profession (to which you decided he was an up and coming fashion designer), you recognized a bunch of peers who have now done the same as you and took over their father’s companies. You could say you grew up with some of these people - as a kid, your parents would sometimes take you along to business dinners and you’d along play with their kid and your parents would be weird and comment on how one day, you two would get married.

That only really happened with a couple of them, but one boy in particular was your parents’ favorite.

“If it isn’t my childhood sweetheart, Miss _____,” you heard a familiar voice call.

Hyunjin had left you to go to the bathroom, so you were stuck at one of the tables scrolling through your phone. When you looked up, a cheeky smile grew on your face when you saw who the owner of the voice was.

“If it isn’t my future husband, Mr. Joshua Hong,” you teased.

The boy hopped into a seat next to you with a wide grin and boy, did you forget how handsome he was. Unlike all the other business men, Joshua liked to wear red to events, and he stood out amongst the crowd so easily, but red was definitely his color.

“How’s my mistress doing? Your empire doing well?” He asked, referring to your company.

“Whoa, if anything, you’re the mistress.”

“I can’t be the mistress if I’m the one with the fiance!”

“You have a fiance? You, Playboy Joshua Hong?”

“Yeah, she’s over there talking to some of the other wives,” he pointed out.

A beautiful woman made eye contact with the both of you and Joshua happily waved over to her. She grew a gorgeous and loving smile and waved back to the man she was so in love with. In more ways than one, jealousy bubbled in the pit of your stomach. Whether it’s because you wished you were her or because even a former playboy like your friend was able to find the love of his life and you still haven’t, you were so jealous that even he found someone to spend the rest of his life with.

It seems that everyone here has.

“Sorry I took so long,” Hyunjin apologized, sitting on the opposite side of you.

“Oh? Miss _____, are you cheating on me?” Joshua teased.

“Huh...?”

“Shut up, Hong. This is my co-worker, Hyunjin. Hyunjin, this is Joshua Hong, an old friend of mine. We kind of grew up together.”

“Co-worker or assistant?” Joshua scoffed.

“They’re the same thing, you asshat.”

“Are you two dating?”

“No, we’re just pretending.”

“Ah, so you’re still single ~?”

“Go back to your fiance, you weirdo,” you blushed, playfully shoving the boy out of his seat.

“I really should, she looks desperate for help. The wedding invitations are being sent out soon, so look out for one, ok? Bring Hyunjin along if you’d like,” he winked.

After the charming man left, you watched him run up to his fiance and wrap his arms around her protectively. He whisked her away from the nasty women of the business she was talking to and planted little butterfly kisses on the side of her head. At one point in your life, you thought that could have been you getting married to him. But you never liked him in that way and you’re happy that he found someone who could ten-fold. If only you had someone who saw you the way Joshua saw his fiance.

“Is he an ex-boyfriend?” Hyunjin asked.

“Not really. We never dated, but our parents wanted us to, so it’s an on-going joke that even if we’re seeing someone that we’re each other’s mistress, or something.”

“How come you never dated?”

You shrugged. “When we took over our respective companies, we haven’t really kept in touch. I thought I would never get the time to date, but somehow he did, and now he’s getting married...”

A deep, lonely sigh escaped your lips at the thought of your future with someone else. It seemed like you were the only one here without a legitimate partner and the fear of never finding someone to pour your love into was seeping in.

Hyunjin suddenly got u from his seat and held his hand out to you.

“What...?” you asked.

“Let’s dance.”

“Huh? Why?”

He shrugged. “I like this song. And I don’t like seeing you like this.”

Gladly, you took the hand of your handsome date and he led you to the dance floor where you danced the night away to the DJ’s odd mix of pop and waltz. Hyunjin really knew his way around the dance floor and you were quite surprised. It was like you didn’t know him at all. Time seemed to pass over you because as the night ended, you and Hyunjin were one of a few couples left in the venue.

“Oh jeez, we lost track of time, huh?” you noted.

It wasn’t unusual for Hyunjin. He always seemed to lose concept of time when he was with you.

“I’m hungry. Wanna get some pork belly and soju?” you asked, practically begging him with your eager and sparkly eyes.

“More drinking?” Hyunjin groaned. “I am hungry, though...”

“Loosen up a little, Jinnie, it’s the weekend,” you said, walking ahead of the stunned boy. You’ve never given him a nickname before.

“But I didn’t bring a change of clothes.”

“So?”

“Aren’t we a little over dressed?”

“Hyunjin, my love, if anything everyone else is under dressed.”

How much champagne did you drink tonight for you to be calling him these nicknames and pet names? And since when did you not care about ruining your clothes? Either way, he kind of liked this side of you. He wondered if he ever met you in college, would you act as careless?

Normally, you’d ask for your driver to take you, but the restaurant wasn’t that far away from the Gala venue and it was a beautiful night to be strolling the streets. Humming softly, you led the way and Hyunjin followed behind as he normally did and watched you adoringly. Your normal work walk was a powerful and dominating stride, but in this moment, you were dancing and skipping about like a little girl. Sometimes you’d look back to make sure he was following, and when your eyes met, you made sure you smiled with your cherry-red lips.

He hoped he could see you like this more often after tonight.

On a Saturday night, your favorite barbecue place was packed with all sorts of people - young college students, old business men, laughing wives - you and Hyunjin fit right in, if you said so yourself. When you walked in, only a few heads turned to gawk at you both, but then kept at their business afterwards.

“This place is huge... Do you come here a lot, Miss _____?” Hyunjin asked.

“Once in a while.”

“_____-ah!” one of the aunties yelled from the kitchen. “Back again this week, huh? Are you having the usual?”

“Yes, please!” you grinned. Next to you, Hyunjin gave you an accusing side glance. “Ok, so I come here a couple of times in a while, sue me.”

You led Hyunjin to your favorite table in the back where it wasn’t too loud but it wasn’t too secluded, either. Your usual waiter, already knowing your order, brought over your favorite bottle of soju and said the barbecue would be out for you to cook shortly. Hyunjin was amazed at how well the workers here knew you and your order. How often did you come here? And with whom? Were you sneaking off with someone he didn’t know about?

“So who do you usually come here with?” Hyunjin asked, hoping he didn’t sound too curious.

“No one,” you shrugged. “I usually come here alone.”

“Alone? Why?”

“Because I like the food? And who would I even go with?”

“You never ask me to come here with you.” Hyunjin sounded a bit insulted that you didn’t even think to ask him to come here with you, but at least you weren’t with someone he didn’t know about.

“Hyunjin, I could never ask you to spend even more time with me than you already do.”

“But you know I’d gladly do so.”

“It’s part of your job, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but I like my job, which means I like spending time with you. So please, don’t come here alone anymore. I’ll come with you.”

“Are you worried about me, Hyunjin?”

“N-No, I just don’t want you to feel lonely.”

You sighed deeply at the lovable boy across from you. “I often wonder what I ever did to deserve you.” You poured Hyunjin a shot of the soju and held it up to cheers. “Cheers to us, hm?”

“Wow, you’re drinking our competition? You’re cheating, Miss _____,” he teased.

“As long as you don’t tell my father ~”

Hyunjin didn’t drink much after the first shot you poured. He only really cared about the pork belly that kept on coming out plate after plate even before you guys finished the previous one. He wasn’t one to complain, though - the gala only served hors d’oeuvres the whole night and he was starving. But you weren’t eating as much as him. Rather, you opted for the soju and even when Hyunjin stopped drinking you kept on going until you finished a couple of bottles. You hadn’t eaten much before arriving, either, so he can only imagine how the alcohol was affecting you right now. He was thankful he was here with you so you weren’t alone.

The whole night, you two reminisced about the good ol’ days when he was still a trainee and all the silly mistakes he made.

“Remember when you ripped your pants during your presentation?” you tried to spit out between giggles.

“How could I forget? Your father bought me a new pair for keeping my composure throughout the whole thing...”

“Aha, and you had your little Ryan plush boxers on, too!”

“Hey, those are my lucky pair! Don’t make fun of them!”

“I’m not! They’re really cute!” you hiccuped.

“I think that’s enough soju for you,” he scolded, taking away the almost empty bottle.

“No wait, lemme just finish it!” you pouted. “As your boss, I am ordering you to give me the bottle!”

“As your friend, I’m putting my foot down and saying no more. C’mon, I’ll walk you home.”

You sighed dramatically as Hyunjin dragged you to pay out your bill to which you literally shoved him away before he could hand auntie his card. You would never let Hyunjin pay for you! Your precious date only rolled his eyes in response, but he couldn’t even pretend to be upset with you, especially when your cheeks were so pink. 

While walking next to each other, Hyunjin made sure to keep a close eye on you. Luckily, you were still able to walk properly. You even proved further how fine you were by dancing and skipping again. You looked so happy like this. Again, he wondered how you were still single when even in your most vulnerable moments, you were so pretty and likable. But then he watched your smile quickly melt into a lonely frown, your eyes staring at nothing but the sidewalk, and he thinks that maybe you’re thinking the same thing.

“Miss _____, can I ask you something?” he asked when you stopped dancing.

“Only if you drop the Miss once and for all.”

“I’ll drop it for tonight.”

“Deal. What’s your question?”

You saw Hyunjin fiddle with his fingers. “What your parents said the other day, about finally dating, and what not... Do you not want to date anyone?”

A pathetic smile casted upon your painted lips. “Where is this coming from all of a sudden?”

“I just... don’t get it.”

“Why?”

“You’re so... I-I mean, how... Anyone would be so lucky to be with you. And so many do, but you never go on dates with them.”

“Hyunjin, of course I want to date. Of course I want to fall in love - to be loved. I want to come home to someone who will kiss me hello and go to sleep with someone who will hold me against their chest. I want to feel like I’m flying, like I could conquer the whole industry - no, the world - when they’re standing next to me. But how can I when I dedicated my life to the business world? I barely get five hours of sleep a night. The answer is I simply don’t have time, and...” you paused.

“And...”

“And who would love someone like me? A cold, bitter workaholic. I’m simply not lovable.”

Hyunjin halted in his tracks and grabbed onto your wrist, pulling you in so you were forced to look at him. Your eyes looked so tired - five years worth of staying up late and waking up early, having the weight of the business world on your shoulders. But more than anything, you were lonely, and he saw it right in front of him.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Don’t ever say that about yourself,” he said sternly. “You are so special, Miss _____. Yes, you’re a workaholic and you’re strict and sure, sometimes you’re a bit bitter -”

“I feel ten times better.”

“Hold on, I’m getting to my point,” Hyunjin giggled cutely. “You’re also intelligent, kind, silly, selfless, and a million other things. Miss _____, anyone would be so, so lucky to have you.”

Hyunjin looked down at the hand that held your wrist. Gently, his thumb traced little circles on your skin and you raised a teasing brow at your lovable assistant.

“Hwang Hyunjin,” you addressed, making him snap his head up quickly. You only said his last name when he was in trouble.

“Y-Yes?”

“Are you in love with me?”

“Huh!? I-I... W-Well, uh -”

“Are you in love with your boss, Hwang Hyunjin?” You adjusted his grip on your wrist so that he held your hand instead and took a step closer to the nervous boy. Who wouldn’t be nervous after a blatant confession?

“I... Of course I am,” he muttered quietly.

“Hm? I couldn’t hear that,” you teased. “One more time for me?”

“I love you, Miss _____,” Hyunjin said, tucking your hair behind your ears.

“Mm, I could get used to that,” you hummed, dragging Hyunjin down the street.

“I’m really hoping you don’t remember this in the morning.”

“You know I never forget anything, Mr. Hwang ~”

“That is unfortunately very true...”

The walk home was incredibly brutal. It was an hour walk away from the restaurant and yet neither of you bothered to call your driver or a cab. When your feet began to hurt in your heels, Hyunjin didn’t hesitate to bend down and give you a piggy back ride home.

“You must really love me if you’re doing this,” you giggled, pressing your cheek to his.

“Will you ever let this down, Miss _____?”

“Will you ever not love me anymore?”

He knows you’re joking, but behind all the alcohol and the teasing, he thinks there’s some genuine worry behind your words. But there’s no need for you be.

He shook his head and the little curls in his hair tickle your cheek. “No. I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

“Then no, I’ll never let this down,” you sighed happily. Your grip on his neck tightened. “Hwang Hyunjin... I love you, too.”

“I know.”

“Oh, yeah? Am I that obvious?”

“When I’m the only one you smile at, giggle in front of, and allowed to give you a piggy back ride, it’s pretty obvious. But don’t ever stop either, ok?”

“Ok, boss ~”

[pisati]

had another therapy appointment tonight and I knew I was going to cry over something stupid

it’s honestly embarrassing talking about shit that I know I can talk about openly and suddenly I’m tearing up like it’s super painful for me

involuntary embarrassing reactions aside I have a good bit to think on for the next week

primarily that I likely do have exceedingly high expectations of myself, and while that may have been started by other people having high expectations of me, it’s really impacted my mental state bc I do feel like I’ve failed in many ways despite knowing I’ve been very successful overall

I take things way too hard and I’m way harder on myself than I should be. I know that my fuck-ups at work were brought to my attention so I could be aware and could fix them. that’s it. I wasn’t being reprimanded, I wasn’t being put on probation; if it were something that serious they would’ve said so. it was something to take seriously, of course, but it wasn’t that serious. and here I am literally getting chest pains stressing about watching myself like a hawk all day at work so I don’t fuck up again bc I’m scared it’ll keep happening and some ind of reprimanding will happen. I don’t think I catastrophize but I do worry a lot, and probably a lot more than I’m aware of.

it’s possible that my depression is more impactful than I thought. I guess we’ll be getting more into that next week but despite being high-functioning my therapist thinks it’s impacting my physical health. I know it’s not helping, but I don’t think it’s impacting me that much. I don’t know. 

I know a lot of my past is going to start coming up and I’m going to have to unpack a lot of the shit that’s been a strain on my relationship with my mom. I’m not looking forward to being told I should probably talk to my mom about it. I don’t want to. but the way she’s been towards me my whole life... that’s probably why I have such ridiculous expectations of myself. her punishing me and blowing up on me disproportionately for the stupidest shit when I was younger is probably why I’m always bracing for the worst over tiny fuck ups and taking it all out on myself. her taking out her stress on me when I was younger and invading my privacy and being so flip-floppy was so confusing and stressful and I just feel like I can’t be close to her. there’s so much I don’t feel like I can trust her with and it’s hard for me to feel like I can’t even have that maternal support in my life. I’m going to start crying talking about this shit too.

I was trying to explain how I felt like I could have done better in school. like I generally knew what I was doing, but I felt like my abilities were cut short by my own brain function. I know I could have done better if my brain could’ve just gotten its shit together. but it’s so hard to explain that. everyone thinks they can do better. she asked if it was possible that that was the best I could do, and I just... I really don’t think so. but I have to wonder. what if it was? what if I just can’t deal with the idea that I’m not smart enough and I’m just not cut out for academia? I tried to explain that I did do a PhD course at the start of my 3rd year in my major, and I did a lot more advanced shit than anyone else in my year; I did way more than I even thought I would, what with research and scholarships and whatever else I did. I did a lot, and don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of myself. but I just couldn’t meet my own expectations. I didn’t think they were that far out of reach. I really do feel like I could have gotten things better if my brain would just fucking work. but was that my limit?  maybe I was a little jealous of the people in my year that couldn’t come up with good answers in class graduating summa cum laude when I got one C in semantics and that seriously impacted my GPA. I thought I wanted to go to grad school, and actually what had me crying this time was telling my therapist that I’m seeing people in my department going on to do really cool things and going to grad school and being celebrated by the department and I feel like that could’ve been me too. I don’t like the idea that maybe I really wasn’t good enough. who would? but am I trying to deflect blame by saying I could’ve done better if it weren’t for my health? or was I actually limited by my health? I keep trying to emphasize that I’m not saying I can’t do things because I’m trying to limit myself. it’s that I know my limits and graduate school right now is just beyond that. I got a taste of what that entails and I know I can’t do it right now, and I’m scared I won’t ever be able to. it’s so hard to explain how it feels beyond “trying to get my brain together”. it felt like it took so much effort to read even simple experimental papers for class; to make the words make sense together and make the sentences form a context and extract understanding from there. “but is it possible those papers were just difficult?” I mean, yeah. it is possible. but I really do feel like I could have gotten it. I don’t think it would’ve been beyond me if I didn’t get exhausted after reading a few sentences. it’s so hard to explain brain fog and slowed cognitive function to someone who’s probably never dealt with it. I was told this therapist had experience with chronic illness, but it’s almost starting to feel like she doesn’t really believe me either. 

we also went over my eating and sleeping habits. like I have many, many times with many other people. I can explain to hell and back how it doesn’t matter how much sleep I get, I’m always exhausted. my diet isn’t great, sometimes I am lacking in vitamins, but supplements don’t help. this isn’t because my diet isn’t great. there are people that I KNOW eat worse than me, and drink alcohol and smoke cigarettes and weed and drink coffee, and they’re in better physical shape than I am. how my crashes are unpredictable and sometimes I can push through them, and I don’t need to nap to recover from a crash. I just roll with everything as it comes and deal best I can. no doctors have been able to help me at this point. I’m not a typical case of anything, and because of that people always try to fit me into a box. I want a word for it too, but I really don’t think that word is depression. I was depressed long before this started, but even before my depression became obvious and my health started going all fucky I was a bubbly, vibrant kid. maybe I am high-functioning, but I don’t think the price I’m paying for that is all these crashes. and it’s not just the crashes. it’s restless sleep for 8 years. it’s alcohol and medication intolerance. it’s pain and brain fog and... I can’t even think of what else. “those are also symptoms of depression” like I know that but I just.... I really don’t think that’s it. I’m on meds for my depression and they’ve helped my moods but guess who’s still physically declining? 

much to think about. I guess. I don’t really know what to make of it right now. what I do know is that I’ve been the same amount of tired all day from the minute I woke up til now, despite taking two crash naps today. I have to be up semi early for my telepsychiatry appointment in the morning. going to the pain doctor again for my shots. tomorrow’s mom’s birthday, so I need to do something for that too I guess. mom’s boyfriend invited us out for dinner at the barn in mom’s neighborhood, or if it’s raining maybe we can do dinner there. ~socially distanced~. maybe while I’m out for my doctor’s I can pick her up something. I fucked up and only planned her mother’s day gift, didn’t think to make a birthday one, despite knowing her birthday is like 2 weeks after mother’s day. every year, man. she did ask me to make 3 more masks for her and I did. took way longer than it should have though, my machine’s fucking up and I’m seriously tempted to buy myself a cheap singer one just to do my little projects. I know mine needs a tune-up, it’s a really nice, expensive machine, and I don’t want to wreck it by pushing it. there’s so much I don’t know about sewing and machines.

anyway. blah blah. bedtime I guess

[guccisvt]

Just Relax 01

Genre: I really don’t know  Word Count: 4.0k Warnings: Nothing... yet Summary: After moving to a new city and failing miserably at dealing with stress, you decided to visit a therapist. You thought you knew what you wanted but the other treatments he offered were quite tempting.

A/N: Hello! I know I said I would post this on Friday but I’ve been sick all weekend with some kind of stomach bug. I finally got around to finish editing and posting though.  You’ll see that many characters are not from SVT but that’s because they just seem to fit those characters the best. My writing style might not be the exact same as now because this is an older fic that I cleaned up and chose to continue. I hope you guys enjoy!

Gif Credits to @kwibu at this link . (This a beautiful gif!)

Stress. Stress had always been a big part of your life but you knew how to manage. But just like a pot, it eventually boiled over. A new job, a new place, and your only company was Jimin and Ailee. Of course you were happy to have some people you knew around. Jimin had been your best friend since forever and of course, Ailee was your favorite woman besides your mom.They were really similar in more ways than expected. You didn’t always feel comfortable in your little friend group. Since college, they were always the social butterflies and now with your careers, it was pretty much the same.

As you made your way across the living room to the window, you just had to take it all in once more. It was amazing that you guys managed to snag this place. It wasn’t cheap, but it was cheaper than it should be for these kinds of places. Three large bedrooms, with personal bathrooms, walk-in closets, a homey kitchen, and a great view. As you took a deep breath, you heard some laughing and knew it was the pair before they even entered the apartment. They both walked in with large smiles and that affected you. You decided to embrace their happiness and join them in the kitchen.

As you propped yourself on the counter, they both flashed you a big smile and continued to giggle amongst themselves. As soon as you were about to speak up, Jimin got up.

“I’ll be right back. I have a surprise for you.” He said as he walked off with a big grin.

When he left, you were left with a giggling mess called Ailee.

“What’s up with you two?” You narrowed your eyes and she only laughed harder.

“I can’t say but we know you’ve been stressed lately, okay? So we got you something that we thought would calm you down.”

As you opened your mouth to speak, an excited Jimin came bursting into the kitchen with a bottle of champagne in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other.

“Let’s begin, shall we?” He said with a stupid grin.

After a night of drunk ranting, laughing, and teasing, it felt good to wake up without a major hangover. Even though the alcohol lowered your stress a good amount last night, sobering up brought it all back as you realized you had to get to work. You weren’t late, but this had become a habit. You had to make a good impression. You had to meet your boss and coworkers on time. You had to wear something nice but comfortable. As you woke up and walked to the bathroom to get ready, all you could think about was how everything could go wrong. As you found a comfortable black sweater and a pair what you called “business-casual” jeans, you grabbed your bag and walked out to a surprisingly clean apartment. It was unexpected considering the pillow fight and item throwing last night over memories. It seemed like both Ailee and Jimin were still asleep so you moved stealthily towards and out the door.

You decided to stop by a coffee shop you found on the day you were moving in. It was small but the sign showed a lot of character and hospitality. When you walked in, you were greeted by a bright smile and gorgeous dimples. You were definitely coming here more often. The man behind the counter welcomed you and you stood in awe for a few seconds. As he motioned for you to come over, you snapped out of your trance and made your way over to order a cup of coffee. As the dimpled man took your order, you read his name tag. As soon as he turned away, you thought of his name. At least that’s what you thought you were doing.

“Namjoon.”

As he turned around, you realized you said his name out loud. Immediately after you cover your mouth and turn away, you saw a small smile out of the corner of your eye before he turned back to your order. While looking around, you realized the interior. Pale blue walls, cute stools for seats, large windows, and a bulletin board. As you approached the bulletin board, you found many business cards but one stuck out to you in particular. A jet black card differed from the other splayed colors. The beige letters captured your attention immediately. After further inspection, you found out it was for a therapy office. With that, you took the card and made a mental note to make an appointment later. Even your best friends could tell how stressed you were and that meant you needed some relief. Although you vocalized your troubles to them, they weren’t always able to provide any needed advice. A therapist or counselor might help. You’d like to meet the person who made the intriguing card. As you turned around, you found a new customer at the counter.

As you went to counter to retrieve your order, the mysterious man seemed to stare down at you. After he looked you up and down, he found the black card in your hand and gave a small smile. His features captivated you more than you’d like to admit. He wore a suit which looked pretty expensive. His hair was beautifully styled and his skin was beautifully clear. You were starting to enjoy your time in this city. All these handsome guys and it was your first day out. Namjoon soon returned with your coffee and a smile that made you feel giddy inside. As you turned your heel to walk out of the shop, the mystery man also gave a smile. A smile that made you feel like you were going to like this city.

As soon as you got to the editing office, you were greeted by a plethora of warm smiles and friendly greetings. Your promotion forced you to transfer to this office but it was a nice change. Your old coworkers never spoke to you and your boss was a pervert. When you reported him, they seemed to compensate you with finally realizing how hard you worked and promoting you. It was probably to get rid you for good but you were glad to leave. As you were being introduced, people welcomed you warmly until you were finally led to your office. It was small, yes, but it was private. You’d heard these offices were soundproof and that relieved you. You liked listening to music at work rather than listening to other people gossip. There were blinds so that you could peek on the other employees without being noticed. There were two comfy-looking chairs in front of your desk. You sank down in one and noticed how big it was. You seemed to melt into it. Before you could doze off, someone was knocking at your door. A bright face peeked through the crack they opened in your door. As you stood up to welcome him, he came in. After a few moments still no one had spoken. He seemed shy so you spoke first.

“Hi, my name is y/n. What’s yours?” You asked with your hand reached out.

He slowly branched his hand out to meet yours. “My name is Jungkook. Sorry about barging in, but a lot of the office members wanted to invite you to tonight’s office party. It’s at 8:00.” He said cautiously.

“No pressure, it’s not mandatory.” He quickly added.

“No, thanks for inviting me. I’d love to come. 8 o’clock right? I’ll make sure to come.” As you said this, he immediately lit up. He stood up straighter and this let you realize that he was taller than you. You weren’t short but you couldn’t say you were tall either. He didn’t tower above you but the difference was substantial. As he left your office, he turned to give you cute bunny smile. As you sat down to start unpacking, you pictured his adorable smile and how happy he was that his offer hadn’t been rejected. After you sat down in your comfy swivel chair, you thought back to the card. You took the card out of your purse and stared at the information for a while. A sudden thought came into mind after your little staring competition with the card. It seemed to match perfectly with the man in black you had met earlier. They both gave you a similar vibe and it intrigued you.

You took out your phone and started dialing the number on the card. After the third ring, you heard a voice that didn’t sound like your typical receptionist. It was low and welcoming. You sat there and admired the man’s voice for a second or two before you replied to his hellos.

“Hello? If this is a prank call, please don’t call this number again.” He said before he almost hung up.

“No, I’m sorry. This isn’t a prank call. I want to make an appointment with…” You took a look at the card, “Mr. Jeon.”

“Oh, yes, this is he. I’m sorry but I’m preoccupied right now. What time could I call you back?”

“Oh! I’m sorry! Please call back at your leisure.”

“Thank you…”

“Y/N.”

“Thank you Miss Y/N. Have a nice afternoon.” And with that he hung up.

After he hung up, you sat there replaying his voice in your head. “Miss Y/N.” You never knew your name sounded that pleasant. But that moment was short lived as you remembered you had work to accomplish before you could relax. The rest of the day was spent socializing and working with a lunch break in between. After you got home, you didn’t even want to talk. Welcome home Miss Y/N!” Ailee yelled from her room. You vocalized a loud grunt in reply and she understood you wanted to sleep. As you feel onto your bed, you imagined what kind of man Mr. Jeon would be. No matter, his voice made you anticipate your meeting. With that, you eventually dozed off.

When you woke up, it was to the sound of your phone. It was 6:47 and an unknown number had already called once. When you answered, you were greeted by a voice. His voice. It was a normal tone rather than the rushed one he was using earlier so you assumed he wasn’t busy anymore.

“Hello Miss Y/N, it’s me Dr. Jeon. I’m sorry for the inconvenience but I wasn’t in a position to have a conversation earlier.”

“It’s fine. I’m free to talk now.”

To your surprise, you were free to talk. The apartment was quiet so Jimin and Ailee were probably out socializing at an office party of their own if not partying at a club.

“Oh thank goodness. Okay, I would like to meet with you personally to share the details of your first appointment with you. Would tonight be fine?”

You glanced at the time and it was 7:00 already.

“I’m not sure about tonight. Unless you’re available at around 11 o’clock.” You joked.

You thought of the office party and how you told Jungkook how you were going to come. You put the phone on speaker and walked over to your closet to choose a dress for the night.

“11 o’clock? I can actually arrange for that. Yes, 11 o’clock would be fine.” He said.

It was surprising that he took you seriously. What person would arrange a meeting at 11 o’clock? But apparently you were a person to go at 11 o’clock. Just as he finished speaking, you found a nice dress. It was fall so you didn’t want something too short or revealing.

“11 o’clock it is then. Where should I meet you?”

As he told you the address, you wrote it down on a piece of paper on your desk.

“I look forward to seeing you at 11 o’clock.”

“Likewise Dr. Jeon.”

After he hung up, it was off to the shower. After a quick shower, you came out of your personal bathroom and found Ailee, on your bed, with your dress in hand.

“Hey, I thought you weren’t home.” You said while rummaging for underwear.

“And I thought you didn’t like people. Where are you going with this dress?” She asked with her eyebrows wiggling and a sneaky smirk.

“I’m going to a party.”

“Ooooh, a party?”

“An office party, dunce.”

“Oh wow, haven’t heard that name in a while. But yes! My little Y/N is socializing!”

“Well yeah, the people here seem nicer and I don’t want it to end up like my last job.”

“Can I come then? I’ll be helpful, and I need to meet new people too. You two are boring me and I don’t start work until tomorrow.”

“Yeah, just get ready in less than 15 minutes. It starts at 8 and I’m not trying to be late.”

“Oh please. No party starts when they say it starts. We’re leaving at 8 and I don’t wanna hear you whine.”

“I honestly don’t mind this time.”

“Oh? What’s got you like this? Why aren’t so uptight today?”

“Where’s Jimin?”

“I know you changed the subject but I’ll let it slide this time. He’s out. Out at a party too, I think.”

“Makes sense for him to be out. Let’s just hope he doesn’t bring a stranger in.”

“Couldn’t agree more. Now stop talking, I’ll go get ready.”

That was fine with you. As soon as Ailee walked out, you maneuvered to slip on your dress. It was black and satin with elbow-length sleeves and a shallow V-neck.The knee length pleats made you want to spin around like a model. You didn’t feel like wearing make-up but fixed your eyebrows and put on some lip gloss.

After grabbing your coat, the address on your desk, and your purse, you exited your room and caught sight of Ailee ahead of you, already in the living room and man, did she look good. She always did. She knew what to wear and always had the right attitude. Sometimes you aspired to be like her.

”Hey, let’s go and meet some guys!”

“I’m not going to meet guys.”

“You’re not but I didn’t say I wasn’t.” she laughed as she left the apartment.

As soon as you got to the party, there were friendly faces everywhere. Of course, Ailee got her introduction and hit it off with a group of people that was mostly guys. Jungkook led you to meet one of his friends, Taehyung. After you spoke with them, you went to meet your boss, Kim Minseok.. He was a handsome guy and pretty kind but seemed dazed as you two were talking. After that brief conversation, you went back to Jungkook and Taehyung and spoke with them most of the night. Taehyung was a funny kid and every now then he would flash an adorable boxy smile. Jungkook spoke but was mostly reserved until you touched his shoulder after a joke. He stood up straight and engaged more in the conversation. It was strange how he got a confidence boost from that slight action but you liked the change in confidence.

After a few hours of talking and food, you realized it was 10:30. You told Ailee that you had an appointment and she wanted to stay so you let her. As you left you waved good-bye to Taehyung and Jungkook in which they reciprocated the gesture.

After arriving at the destination Mr. Jeon gave you, surprise filled you. It was a gigantic restaurant with beautiful lights and ceiling to floor windows. As soon as you took two steps, a large hand gripped your shoulder. You turned around in a flurry trying to see who just grabbed you. There he was. The mystery man from earlier and suddenly, your face felt hot. You were heating up indeed. He must’ve taken notice of your confusion and embarrassment because he soon introduced himself.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Jeon.”

“Hi, I-I’m Y/N.”

You couldn’t look him in the face much less the eyes, so you ended up looking at the ground. As you stared at the ground, you noticed his shoes. A shining, clean-cut black. Slowly, his shoes led to his pants that were slightly gripping his thighs. His legs led to his torso where you were welcomed by a broad, welcoming chest. After a few more seconds, you noticed his face dip down to catch your attention.

“Are you okay? Are you uncomfortable? I mean, I don’t mind your staring, but I think we should get inside.” He suggested with a smile. 

He gripped your arm and linked it with his. You couldn’t help but start sweating. He pulled you inside and led you through the restaurant to a quieter floor. When you reached a booth with a large red curtain, he pulled it aside and nodded, subtly urging you to enter. As you stepped in, the realization of how beautiful this place truly was hit you. And although it was beautiful, it was relatively small. A veranda was a few paces in front of you with a breathtaking view.

You were so caught up in the interior design that it took a while to realize Mr. Jeon wasn’t in the room with you anymore. The atmosphere felt uncomfortable and you felt out of place in this space so you ended up standing around awkwardly. When the lithe man came back, you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. He gave you a small smile and walked over to the dining table, pulling back a chair for you to sit in. It took a few seconds to realize he was pulling it back for you but as soon as you figured it out, you scurried over and plopped down. You heard a low chuckle, barely audible, come from behind you as you scooched in.

He soon moved from behind you and strode along to sit in front of you. As you moved to take your jacket off, you could feel him staring. You finally got a good look at his face. His face was gorgeous and his jawline was sharp. It aided in sharpening the rest of his features.  His skin was really beautiful, really clear. Soon enough, your gaze shifted to his eyes. When you caught his gaze, you saw an amused expression on his face. You could feel your embarrassment bubbling over inside so you quickly looked down into your lap.

“No, Miss Y/N. Please look at me. It might be uncomfortable for you but I value eye contact. It might help make our meeting quicker, even.”

As you looked up, you realized how dead wrong he was. You maintained eye contact for a good ten seconds before you looked down again. With a sigh, Mr. Jeon started to speak again.

“It’s fine if you can’t keep eye contact, please just be comfortable.”

He seemed used to this. He sighed again and that only furthered your embarrassment so you gathered the courage to look at him. He was staring intently at you. Before you could break the contact again, he started speaking.

“I’m really sorry, I had a prior engagement earlier Miss Y/N. I’m surprised you were out and about during this time of night but I’m actually grateful for that. I’d say it’s a great time for private conversations. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable but I was expecting your call soon.”

He was expecting your call? Why? How would he even know you were going to call his office?

“Expecting my call? Why would that be Mr. Jeon?”

“I saw you holding my card earlier in the coffee shop. Did you forget me already?”

“No, of course not! It just surprised me…who you were.”

“I didn’t think it would be very surprising to formally meet someone you’ve seen before.”

“Of course not. You…you’re just not who I was expecting-er–imagining.” You corrected.

“I’m guessing you were expecting a boring, forty to fifty year old man who could only repeat himself over and over and ov—”

“You’re not wrong.” You asserted, quite embarrassed.

He let out a hearty laugh which filled you with a gleeful feeling. His head tilted back allowing to you to see a small vein, throbbing with each laugh.

When he looked back at you, he composed himself and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper.

“Unless you’d like anything to eat or drink, I think it’s time to start talking about why you’re making an appointment.”

“Honestly, I’d appreciate a glass of water.”

“Of course.”

After your wait, and you chugging your glass, Dr. Jeon intertwined his hands in front of him and set his head down to rest on them. His large hands seemed too prim and proper but they also showed callouses when you looked closer. Whatever that hard work he was doing, it certainly showed. He slipped the paper in front of you before returning to his previous position. As you opened it, you realized it consisted of a confidentiality agreement and the different services he offered. Massage therapy, trust exercises, and stress relief were just a few.

When you looked up to steal a glance, his face was still staring intently, but at the same time, it seemed expressionless.

“I think you’ve gotten the gist of what that contract consists of. Now, I could let you take it home to fill out or you could fill it out now so we can start everything during our next meeting.” He finished and took out a pen from his breast pocket.

“I’ll fill it out now.” You say after some thought. You slowly reach for the pen, and filled out the sheet.

“Do you mind if I look over what you put down?”

“No, go ahead.”

You took a deep breath and he started speaking.

“Stress relief. You mind me asking why?”

“I just moved to this city and I just got promoted.. It’s all been stressing me out. That’s why I took your card. I thought it would help.”

“Understandable. Next is social anxiety training?”

“Yes, I have my best friends who are way more social that I could ever be but with this new job and place, I want to be more outgoing. I’m not usually the one to start a conversation much less a friendship.”

“That’s normal. If you want, we could have some sessions with your friends to help with that. Sexual Consultation?” As he asked, a small smirk appeared. All you could do was sink down into your seat. You were suddenly wishing you had filled the sheet out at home.

“…Yes.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“I’d rather not right now. All I can say is that, there hasn’t been much going on in that department.”

“Okay, that’s fine but it’s going to come up.”

“Yes.”

“And…massage therapy.”

“I haven’t had a massage in the longest. Haven’t had anything relaxing in a while.”

“There’s a course to enhance flexibility that can be included with the massage therapy. Would you like that too?”

“Sure, I need some exercise.”

He started to jot down a small note but you were starting to get fidgety. It seems like he noticed how uncomfortable you were so we started to wrap up his note-taking and stood up.

“Thanks for meeting me tonight Miss Y/N.”

“Thanks for making time for me Mr. Jeon.”

“Actually, it’s Dr. Jeon.” He laughed. “But Wonwoo is fine too. Is it okay to call you by your first name?”

Even a simple yes was hard to get out but it finally escaped when he gave you another one of those amazing smiles.

“I look forward to seeing you again Y/N.”

[fantroll-purgatory]

Lalnah Dearth - Hopeless Romantic

@chaoticevilfantrolls

(Breaking the streak of Teals I had going, here’s my Main Boy)

I gotta say, you’ve hit another one out of the park. I really love this boy from the get-go.

Planet: Alternia. Same AU as Lycosa and Vapula (age of conscription is 10 sweeps, minor social changes, etc.)

Name:Lalnah Dearth

Lalnah: Comes from Lana or Svetlana, a name which typically means Light, or Gift to the World, depending on the source. Also, in a more blunt and lowbrow manner, it’s a pun on ‘lol, no’.

Dearth: Meaning ‘a lack of’. A lack of light, of prospects, and of hope. It primarily ties into his dreary nature, and the fact that he is meant to be a void player at his core.

I’m tempted not to use Dearth if only because it Is straight up a highly recognizable word. I like it a lot thematically, though. Hrm… Maybe if we just translate it? Duurte, meaning dearth, scarcity… Lalnah Duurte. 

I do have to point out here that void isn’t about a lack of prospects or hope so much as an empty space… which I do really like for him. It’s the unexplored, the unknown, the blank canvas, the vastness, the beginning, that which isn’t but can become… Which can be really overwhelming and oppressing and lonely. But it’s not hopeless, even if it can feel that way in the beginning. Which I think ties beautifully into the title ideas you discussed, but we’ll get to that at the appropriate time.

Age:Typically 9-12 sweeps. He’s a little older than the rest of his friend group.

Strife Specibus: shotgunKind. It’s a reference to the original instance of Chekhov’s Gun, in which a shotgun over the mantle piece, mentioned off-hand in one of the earlier chapters of a story, was used as a murder weapon in the climax. It’s an important literary concept (not adding superfluous details unless they become relevant later), which ties into his writing theme as well as his plotline in the session he’s from.

I Love That Thanks. I was going to make a pen/sword joke here but I can’t when the Chekhov’s Gun reference is already perfect.

Fetch Modus:Hangman Modus. Lalnah needs to play hangman to retrieve the item from his sylladex. The phrase or word is always based on the item itself, becoming more complex the more powerful or important the item is. If he loses, the item is locked for a five hour period. 

Blood color:Burgundy. His particular brand of down-trodden resignation fits really well in the lower castes, I believe. Plus, burgundy is the name of a kind of wine, which fits extra well with his alcoholic author theme.

I definitely think so. It puts him in a really vulnerable social position that amplifies that ease of manipulation you mention later. I think it’s also an interesting assignation for an author because of the rust leaning towards adventure. I like the idea of him exploring more internally, through his art. 

Symbol and meaning:The Dele. It’s a symbol used to mark something for deletion in editing manuscripts. Primarily ties into his status as a void player, as well as his extensive writing theme. Also, when drawn a certain way, it resembles a bat.

Oh I just love this… I might have to adjust it a little to account for rust language, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

Trolltag: transientTechnicality

Transient: Something or someone who is temporary. Can be used to describe someone who is homeless or nomadic.

Technicality: A small detail in a set of rules. In Lalnah’s mind, a technicality is something that is easily overlooked, but can be used to win major battles in both law and war.

Quirk:He starts all of his statements with an arrow pointing to his words, as if drawing attention he can to what he’s saying. (->)

He capitalizes his Os, and his v’s become >’s, but otherwise types entirely in lowercase. This is primarily to show his manner of speaking (very empty and almost monotonous, with a bit of a lisp around the sound of V). He uses punctuation within statements, but does not use apostrophes or periods as ending punctuation. 

He has a tendency towards long, elaborate statements, spliced with commas and filled with florid and bloated prose. Expect a lot of ‘woe is me’ shit.

When he does use emoticons, he typically uses -w- for just about every emotion possible, using it to represent a bat’s face. Sometimes he’ll add carats before and after to represent perked ears (and curiosity), sometimes he’ll add an apostrophe as a sweat drop of exhaustion or weariness. (^-w-^ or -w-’)

“TT: -> cwm fjOrd bank glyphs >ext quiz” “TT: -> if yOu need a better translatiOn, the wOrds amOunt tO sOmething meaning, cOllOquially, symbOls car>ed On the mOuntain hOllOw irritate an eccentric” “TT: -> yOu, ah, wanted tO see every letter, thOugh… -w-”

I Adore All Of This. It’s interesting that you’ve given him the arrows drawing attention to his text when he’s themed around void/light. Maybe when he’s feeling particularly small and lacking in confidence and when he’s especially afraid of bringing attention to himself, he drops the arrows.

Special Abilities: Lalnah used to have a decent, if not exceptional, talent for photokinesis and photogenesis, which he could use to control and create light. Primarily he would use this for non-combat things like making reading lights and faerie lights or changing the intensity of light around him, although when pushed to it he would use the light to disorient foes so that he could escape. His drinking has severely dulled these powers, though, to the point he almost can’t use them at all.

Additionally, Lalnah hears the horrorterrors of the furthest ring, primarily manifesting as a dull mental static which he cannot pick out the meaning to. He hears them through his dreamself, which is sleepwalking in perpetuity, except while he himself sleeps. Because of this, he doesn’t necessarily have nightmares while he sleeps outside of sopor, and he’s more resistant to mind-control and telepathic psionics, if only for the barrier that makes it painful to dig too far into his pan. It doesn’t help much, because his timid nature makes it easy enough to control him in other, more mundane means.

Although not psychically based at all, Lalnah is also capable of using echolocation, thanks to his big ol’ sensitive batty ears. 

I love all of this, too! I keep saying that but god I really do adore all the little clever details about him. He’s so well-crafted. His photogenesis would be so handy. He could cast light however he wanted while writing a scene to better figure out how to describe it… I wonder why he started hearing the horrorterrors, though? Do they just have a particular fondness for him? Something about his aspect bleeding before the bounds of sburb and into his consciousness? 

Or did he dig a little too deep while doing some research for a book? Dip a little too much into the unknown and unlock something in himself he maybe shouldn’t have? The blankness of a page can be dangerous in that way.

Lusus: A fruit bat approximately the size of a house cat. Lalnah’s lusus is rather sickly and frail, and has been most of his life. In fact, by the time of the session, his lusus is typically dead of some illness. His lusus is a fruit bat primarily for the fact of Lalnah’s nearly vampiric appearance, the concept of being ‘blind as a bat’ (which Lalnah most certainly is), and an artifact reference to cannibalism (not nearly as relevant anymore, but Lalnah as a character is about 4 years old and I still haven’t weeded out all of the lingering teenage angst).

I do like the cannibalism reference objectively because he is, still, in some ways, self-cannibalizing. On a more emotional and identity level but still.

Personality: By all means, Lalnah is about as timid and self-pitying as a troll can get without it bordering on the obscenely pale-pornographic. He lets others speak over him, letting them form their opinions on him without so much as a whimper of protest. He has a(n earned) reputation as drunkard and a hopeless fool of a romantic, which he no longer attempts to protest. He’s been caught using his horns as a bottle opener. There’s no recovering your reputation after that.

In reality, Lalnah is incredibly talented, with strong skill in games of strategy and forethought, as well as proficiency with playing violin and piano. He avoids bringing attention to these things in fear that they will be used as a reason to manipulate him and take what little agency he has. This fear isn’t unfounded, but rather borne of his relationship with his ex-moirail, a blueblood who used his talents to make herself look more favorable, using recordings of him playing instruments as her own and forcing him to fit some visual ideal that she thought was fitting. 

He has the tendency to fall in deep, profound love with trolls who show him the smallest scrap of kindness despite his failings, opening up to them and showing only them his real talent and potential, no matter how much he comes to regret it later.

He tends to wrestle with perfectionism in addition to his need for passive mediocrity. His drinking, unfortunately, is the only way he knows to bridge between the two. Using his drinking as an excuse for his failures soothes the savage beast of perfectionism without forcing him to give up his sense of safety in being unremarkable.

I like the idea of him kind of idolizing the people he’s in love with. And then true to Aries-aligned form experiencing these cycles of disappointment when they don’t meet these expectations. But he keeps on loving anyways, clinging because of his self-pity. Maybe having a fear that if he loses This person he’ll never find love again. Wants to have a perfect love but he can’t stand up for himself in relationships or dedicate himself to even trying to change people. 

The drinking is also very fitting. We have seen pretty often that addiction is a very light/void phenomenon. Roxy’s and Rose’s own alcoholism, and Equius and Vriska’s addiction to breaking specific objects… An unfortunately realistic way that people attempt to cope with these internal conflicts. 

Interests: Lalnah’s primary interest lies in writing. Be it prose or poetry, political essays or pining exposes, he writes whatever he happens to be in the mood for, and with great proficiency. Even in his trademark stupor (which he no-doubt exaggerates), he writes. 

He has an interest in cooking as well, treating it as an art-form as high as any other. It’s one of the only things he’s willingly held on to since his moirailegence with the blueblood, besides perhaps his fashion sense. He absolutely has made a romantic dinner for his moirail out of instant noodles, and his habit of making the most of nothing really shines through in that.

Otherwise? He’s shoved aside most of his other interests. He doesn’t enjoy playing the piano or violin anymore, and his smaller hobbies that were discouraged or ignored fell to the wayside when he started hitting the bottle with some regularity. 

)^: I want to save him.

Title: I’ve been struggling with this a little bit, but for a very specific reason.

Part of me is drawn to making Lalnah a Mage or Seer of Void, for his deep understanding of nothingness and mediocrity, his greater-than-average knowledge of the horrorterrors and the way they work (if marginal), as well as smaller things like his use of echolocation and the fact that he’s nearly blind thanks to his shitty eye sight. 

Part of me is drawn to making him an Heir of Light, who spends most of the session in an unhealthy state of inversion, who then reverts to his proper classpect at a key moment, forcing himself to take on and handle the talent and relevance he’s been denying. 

I do like the idea of him being an Heir of Light a lot. A Lot. He can easily start and spend a large part of the session inverted to Mage of Void. He hears the voices of the horror terrors and understands the unknown and the blank, or at least Believes he does. As he starts to come into himself and his role, he gets to learn to understand himself and information and the nature of infinity far better than he ever believed he did. 

He takes on the relevance he’s been denying and that he has earned and would passively be able to manipulate and change information, the known, the present, as well as luck. And he would learn to actively comprehend the boundlessness of the void. He’d take all this passive change and this light inside himself and use it to understand that emptiness is not a dead end but instead a chance to fill it up with beautiful things. 

Land: Land of Echoes and Haze

His land is a sprawling port town, worn down and rusting, the air thick with salt and haze. Think Innsmouth from the H.P. Lovecraft Mythos. His consorts are salamanders, dull grey in color, and are surprisingly hostile to him, although not aggressive. They speak endlessly about the things that hide in the mists, urging him to leave the land and never come back.

Consorts begin disappearing as he continues on his quest, and it’s eventually revealed that the things in the mists are actually mutated consorts, ruined by the whims of his denizen, Dagon. Lalnah must complete some tasks to drive back the mist before bargaining with Dagon to turn the consorts back into the form they are meant to be in.

I love that because it really does imply him needing to take on the spot light, pick up the hero role, make a change passively, by convincing the Dagon. He’d probably have to do something with a fun loophole to bring in your Technicality trolltag. Make a contract and screw that denizen over, Lalnah. Overcome your base acquiescent nature. I believe in you.

Dream Planet:Derse. He’s a voidy boy, and has a lot of horrorterror influence to him. It’d be a waste of a good plot point.

Oh Yep it’s definitely the most thematically fitting And he has So much internal conflict it’s impossible not to consider him a derse player.

Design stuff!: 

Yeah I had pretty much almost nothing to add here. Like quite literally almost nothing. 

Teeth: We’ve only seen one rust with visible teeth and even then they were nubby teeth, so I took the points off his fangs. I think it also works better for his submissive and dulled behavior. 

Symbol: It needed to be symmetrical to meet the rust sign language, so I worked with the idea of it looking a bit like a bat and added two equally lengthed wing edges. I also wanted to use a lot of negative space because Themes. 

Shoes: I changed the outline to a lighter one because the dark outline looked a bit awkward. 

This is a really amazing and well-thought-out character! I hope I was able to provide even a little bit of useful help haha. Thank you for sharing!

-CD

[wineanddinosaur]

VinePair Podcast: Why Restaurants and Bars Should Welcome a $15 Minimum Wage

Are you aiming to cut back on calories and alcohol but still want to enjoy a delicious glass of wine? Mind and Body Wines are your perfect solution. These low-calorie, low-alcohol wines are only 90 calories per serving and are vegan, gluten-free, non-GMO and made without added sugar. With Mind and Body, you can sip without sacrifice. Learn more at mindandbodywines.com.

Among many other actions as our new president, Joe Biden has called to increase the federal minimum wage in the U.S. to $15 per hour and eliminate the concept of the tipped minimum wage. In response, the restaurant and bar industries have largely claimed that such changes would adversely affect efforts to recover from the Covid-19 pandemic.

On this week’s “VinePair Podcast,” Adam Teeter and Zach Geballe discuss whether there’s any validity to these claims, why the claim that increasing the minimum wage will suddenly cause prices to skyrocket is silly, and why everyone from restaurateurs to diners should support the idea of a living wage for all workers.

Listen Online

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Or check out the conversation here

Adam: From Brooklyn, New York, I’m Adam Teeter.

Zach: And in Seattle, Washington, I’m Zach Geballe.

A: And this is the “VinePair Podcast.” Oh Zach, I feel so good. This is a great week. Feeling really positive. Feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. That’s all I’m going to say. Those who know, know.

Z: Dry January? Almost over.

A: Oh, yeah, that’s what I did. I’m done with that s***. But for those of you that aren’t, you might be interested in this week’s sponsor. Are you aiming to cut back on calories and alcohol but still want to enjoy a delicious glass of wine? Mind and Body Wines are your perfect solution. These low-calorie, low-alcohol wines are only 90 calories per serving and are vegan, gluten-free, non-GMO and made without added sugar. With Mind and Body, you can sip without sacrifice. Learn more at mindandbodywines.com. Yeah, man, I stopped. It was too much. I’m still in moderation, obviously. But this weekend, I did not imbibe, actually. But then on Sunday night, I was making a meal with Naomi, and she was like, are we not having wine? I made fresh pasta and a pasta sauce I like from Franny’s Cookbook. And I was like, “Yeah, we’re drinking wine.” And then Tuesday night, I again was like, “I don’t think I’m gonna drink.” But then Wednesday night, I was like, “It’s the inauguration. I gotta have something.”

Z: What did you inaugurate yourself with?

A: Just a beer, but a delicious beer.

Z: Just a beer? Yeah, that’s good.

A: It was a delicious beer. And then tonight, actually, I’m meeting up with a wine entrepreneur who I really respect a lot, Mary Taylor. I don’t know if we talked about this before.

Z: We’ve had Mary on the podcast!

A: That’s right! Yes. So Mary and I are getting drinks because she lives in Brooklyn, but just sold her place and is moving to Connecticut, and I was like, “I’d love to see you before I leave.” And, she and I are both Stern alums, and I think her wines are awesome. And I think her concept is really cool. It’s shocking to me that she’s the first person to do this. I mean, she’s literally just taking the importer label on the back of the label and putting it on the front of the label. But it’s so smart. And she’s gotten a lot of great pickups. I know the company’s growing a lot, so I’m excited to hear about that, but she was like, “Do you want to get beers?” And I was just like, “yeah.” I guess this is what’s happening. Let’s go sit outside and have a beer. I haven’t had a draft beer in a long time, so let’s sit in the cold and do that. So, yeah Dry January was a nice thing. It was a good week-and-a-half run. I really gave the old college try. But I realized that for me, a drink or two a few days a week is a nice reward. It’s a nice breakup. And I’m healthy. I exercise, I drink within reason. I’m not going to punish myself.

Z: Yeah, fair enough, man. I cannot argue with any of the generals or particulars there, because I just think for me it’s like I’ve just found that I have a harder time doing three or four days a week not drinking. I can do one, maybe two a week, but I hate to reiterate this on the podcast seemingly every other week, but life with kids, man, like I need that drink most weeks, most nights. But January, more than halfway there.

A: You just power through.

Z: Yeah. I mean I gotta tell you, I was very tempted by the inauguration. I was like, well you know if I didn’t drink four years ago at the last inauguration — and I didn’t, somehow — I’m not going to drink this time, either. So I’ll save my celebration for February.

A: I want to make another admission, too, which is that a few nights earlier this week, on one of the nights I wasn’t drinking. We have a SodaStream, and I was making some soda water and I was like, “Hmm. Should I put some bitters in this?” And then I was like, “I can’t do it, I can’t do it, because I can’t tell Zach I did it and liked it! So I’m not putting bitters in this. I’m putting lemon in it.”

Z: Cat Wolinksi, though, Cat is on team bitters and soda now. So she is. Yeah, she let me know. I think she posted on that on Twitter or something about it. I mean, I’ll try this. It’s not my drink. I didn’t create it. I mean, it’s been a restaurant staple, but it is really funny because a thing I learned from talking about this, having it out on the podcast and people responding to me about it, was the breakdown is really stark. If you have worked in a restaurant or you’re connected to someone who has, you are way more likely to have tried bitters and soda, which I guess makes sense because the biggest thing about it is at restaurants. Bitters are just there. Right?

A: Right, exactly.

Z: The s******** bar imaginable has Angostura bitters. And in a s***** bar, they’re probably not using it for anything else. So you can probably just load your drink up with it, your soda up with it. And most people at home, if they have bitters, they think that bitters are something you use two dashes of — which in a lot of cocktails you do, to be fair. But it was just really interesting to me to get the feedback from people that I know or on social media. Yeah, it was very skewed towards the restaurant industry. It maybe shouldn’t have surprised me, but did nonetheless.

A: What is your recipe for bitters and sodas? How many dashes is it, then?

Z: Oh, man. It’s to the point where I’ve stopped counting. I would say it’s probably a good quarter to a half-ounce of bitters.

A: So you’re getting that alcohol in there, then. You’re not doing Dry January! I mean, it’s the equivalent of having a quarter- or a half-ounce of whiskey. Yes, is there some amount of alcohol there? Sure. I’m also for work occasionally having to taste stuff and spit it out. Does no alcohol cross my lips? Of course not. But like, I’m also not drinking seven bitters and sodas in a sitting. I’ll drink one every few days. It’s a treat. Otherwise it’s just nothing but soda without the bitters. Sometimes with flavors. Because that is how my wife and I get through this month. She drinks flavored soda water year-round. But for me it’s mostly a January indulgence. Otherwise, I’m drinking other stuff.

A: I love Spindrift.

Z: Yeah, yeah. Great stuff.

A: Spindrift is my favorite.

Z: That’s the treat for me because it’s got some fruit juice in it. And then most of the rest of the time it’s whatever brand or some combination of the famous ones and whatever ones Kaitlyn orders via Amazon Fresh that show up. I don’t know, they’re proprietary brands that I don’t even remember, but they’re just in the fridge. I just grab one. Are you particular about flavor, though? Because I am very particular on flavor with these.

A: Oh yeah. So for me, for Spindrift, I’m grapefruit all the way.

Z: I have yet to try the grapefruit. They keep being sold out, the blackberry is the one I really like. I can do the raspberry lime which we have sometimes. The thing I can’t do is, not so much with Spindrift, but there’s the whole thing about coconut soda water and I just can’t do it. It tastes weird to me. It’s oily and I don’t dig it. My wife loves them. So they’re all her.

A: She likes the coconut-flavored sparkling waters?

Z: Yeah. And I just can’t get behind it. I like most of them, but coconut just missed me with that one. I like coconut water, I like coconut-flavored things generally. But the coconut sparkling water, it’s a texture thing or a perceived texture thing or something. I’m not sure.

A: That’s crazy, man. So, today we’re talking about minimum wage, right?

Z: That’s right.

A: You want to lead us off?

Z: I do. Because we were talking a little bit about the inauguration, and one of the many things that may change going forward under the Biden administration and Democratic-controlled House and Senate is potentially a pretty fundamental change to minimum wage laws in this country. The minimum wage is $7.25 an hour at the federal level. And it hasn’t gone up for over 20 years, I believe. And I don’t want to get into a whole long conversation about why that is. Other than that, it’s f****** ridiculous that the minimum wage has not gone up in that amount of time. And obviously, there are lots and lots of states and localities that have higher minimum wages. I live in one of them. You do, too. But at the same time, raising the federal minimum wage obviously has a big impact because it’s the floor for anything. And specifically, this proposal would also get rid of the idea of a tipped minimum wage, meaning in places like New York and a number of other states — although not here in Washington — you can pay someone less than minimum wage at an hourly rate if they are making enough money in tips to get to that level or above. And there’s been a lot of outcry from the restaurant industry, from really certain parts of it, that this kind of proposal would greatly harm restaurants, small operators, etc.,  including the National Restaurant Association. And I will let you give your thoughts, but I will say concisely at the moment that to me that is total bulls***. And it is a particularly kind of heinous and pernicious lie that the restaurant industry has told for a very long time, and I’m happy to explain why in a moment. But I want to give you a chance to talk, because I have my perspective. I was paid an hourly wage for the majority of my life. So I have strong feelings about it as someone who made essentially minimum wage for quite a number of years.

A: Yeah. I mean, so I think it’s criminal that the minimum wage has been what it’s been. So I completely agree with you. I want to talk about this on the basis of just being a business owner. I think what is lacking — I’m not saying that my path was the path for everyone. I’m not saying that. But I guess what I’m trying to say is, I think that there has been a thesis over the last 10 to 15 years coming out of Silicon Valley, coming out of a lot of other places, that “education doesn’t matter” and that entrepreneurs should be able to do whatever they want, and everyone should just start businesses. And I worked at a business that went under. It wasn’t mine, but it was a record label that I loved dearly. And I was there when it went bankrupt. And so for me, I really wanted to understand how you start a business. So I went back to business school. And I learned about accounting, and I learned about business plans and PNLs and budgeting. And what I also learned is if the business can’t make money, you shouldn’t start the business. And I think that there is this idea that anyone should be able to have a business with all of this, like “gig economy.” I’m f****** sick of the gig economy. It’s not sustainable. It doesn’t take care of humans. Have you looked at f***** Door Dash’s stock price recently? It’s insane. It’s f***** insane. I’m just saying. And the people who are running Door Dash who are actually doing the deliveries are making nothing. And the restaurants aren’t making money. Nothing. This is unsustainable. And this is my soapbox to get to restaurants, which is there’s a lot of these people who have models that are sustainable, and others that don’t. And when you sit down and you decide you want to open a restaurant, you’ve got to look at the model and say, can we afford to pay people a living wage with the food we want to sell and the prices we want to charge and all those things? And if we can’t, then maybe we can’t have a restaurant, or maybe this restaurant model doesn’t work for this place. I don’t know how else you do it. We are going to have to raise the minimum wage in this country. We haven’t raised it in decades. It needs to catch up with the cost of living. People haven’t had a pay raise, and everything else is going up. Rent is going up. Gas is going up. So this has to happen. And yeah, I think it’s bullshit. And it’s one of these things where it’s become this narrative that we’re all telling that’s being reinforced by these organizations, as you mentioned. And look, again, I’ve only ever worked — as we talked about in this podcast a lot — as a cater waiter. I’ve never been in a restaurant. I have lots of friends who are restaurateurs. I understand it’s a really hard business. I do not want to be in their position. I think anyone who opens a restaurant is crazy. I love eating at them, but I think it’s crazy. Right? Because it’s so hard. It’s so hard to make a living but yeah, some people really do it to great success, to great success. And a lot of people who do it to great success, too, that I’ve found, have really happy employees. And usually, it’s because their employees are taken care of. And I think it’s unfortunate that we have to force the rest of the country to take care of their employees. But I think it’s the only way we are going to ultimately have a successful restaurant industry and a healthy restaurant industry, especially coming out of Covid. But again, I’ve never worked in a restaurant. So I’m curious, the stuff that I’m saying, is this resonating, Zach? Am I crazy to *say, “Well, look, if you can’t afford this person, then then you can’t have a restaurant.” Is that just me being a mean old business person being like, “Well, look, the numbers don’t work, so go f*** yourself.” Because that’s kind of how I feel. You’ve got to look at the numbers. If the numbers don’t work, the numbers don’t work. But other people would say that’s not fair.

Z: Yeah, well, I would say a couple of things. One is I’ve never owned a restaurant myself, so I will speak at this from my perspective, as someone who’s worked at a variety of different levels throughout restaurants and been pretty involved in opening them and understanding some of how they work. But it’s never been my money on the line, it’s never been my name on the business license, etc. So take that caveat. I don’t think you’re wrong at all. And I think that actually one of the biggest issues we had in the restaurant industry, pre-Covid, was every last person who had a little bit of knowledge, a little bit of maybe some acclaim or at least a little bit of attention and some backing could open a restaurant. And many of them were just never going to succeed. I have been to, I have been offered jobs at, I have dined at so many restaurant concepts that were just so clearly not thought out by someone who understood anything about how a business is profitable. By people who maybe had really, really great food, great bar programs, great wine programs, all kinds of things. But in the end, what they were doing was not going to make money. And then as it turns out, if either it’s just you or your family or you have investors, somewhere down the road you have to make money. And you might have a longer or shorter runway depending on how you’re financing things. But it is not infinite. And as you said, no business concept is entitled to be profitable just because you like it. And one of the most important things to recognize here is that one of the reasons why the tip economy and “tipping” as a function in the American restaurant industry has persisted as long as it has is it served a very useful function for restaurant owners because they didn’t have to pay their front-of-the-house staff very much. And that meant they didn’t have to pay payroll taxes on what those people were making. That is a huge reason why tip culture has persisted as long as it has, because — we’re not going to have a whole conversation about tipping, I don’t think — but tipping is a part of this whole issue, right? It is cutting out the restaurant, and the restaurant owner, and the restaurant ownership, from compensation for a big chunk of their workforce, which is, frankly f****** insane. I mean, again, it’s not how any other kind of business works. I don’t go to the grocery store and decide that, I don’t think the person at the seafood counter did a good enough job picking out my piece of salmon, so I’m not going to tip them, and they don’t make money. That is an insane business concept. The owner or operator of any business should want to have control over their employees’ wages so that they can compensate them adequately and ensure that the person who is working for them’s goals are aligned with their own. And so, there’s this whole long, sordid history of restaurants and restauranteurs underpaying people, underpaying undocumented workers, threatening to report them to ICE or INS before that. There’s just so many things that go on when people are not paid a living wage: no healthcare, people working sick. I mean, think about how crazy that sounds now to us in this Covid landscape that I and everyone I worked with would show up to work when by any standards of the health department, we should have stayed home, but because there’s no sick pay in most places — that’s changed in some places including in Seattle — there’s no vacation time, there’s no policy that allows for someone who should not be working for whatever reason, health or otherwise, to stay home. Someone who’s just had a kid, there’s no paid parental leave. All these things, unless a local or state government has passed these laws, none of that is mandated at a federal level. And very few — some, but very few — restaurateurs will offer that as a benefit just on their own goodwill. And again, it just creates a persistent issue within the industry of people being absolutely on the brink of financial ruin for things that should not ruin anyone. You know, I’m not talking about horrific injury or terminal illness, or I should say potentially life-threatening illness or things like that. That shouldn’t ruin anyone, either. But those are at least huge problems that are hard to anticipate. But I’m talking about someone breaking their arm — a four-to-six-week injury, less than that, really if you’re not doing something really, really intense. And I’ve known people who were basically begging their coworkers to give them money because they had nothing saved because their job barely allowed them to pay for the cost of their apartment in Seattle or in San Francisco or in New York or whatever. We want restaurants in these cities. The people who work in jobs that are still employed right now, who are sitting at their computers listening to this, you want restaurants in your city. You want to be able to order food via these horrific parasitic apps delivered to your door whenever. But the people who make that happen cannot afford to live, not just in the city. In many cases, they can’t even afford to live within an hour. I mean, I was stunned by the end of 2020 how many people I worked with in Seattle who lived an hour, an hour and a half commute away each way. And these are people who are commuting home late at night. Some of them are people who might not be safe commuting late at night on public transit, potentially. There’s just so many issues. And it all stems from the fact that in some way, we societally have viewed restaurant work and similar service- sector work as being “less than.” And that is a fundamental issue that is not fixed by a raise in the minimum wage. But in some sense, it is because, you look at — God help me, Adam you know it’s a curse of mine that I look at Twitter too much. But look at all the people responding, all the people tweeting things like, “Well, why should I pay? Why should someone who’s washing dishes or someone who’s flipping burgers make $15 an hour?” As if doing those things is somehow any less noble a pursuit than whatever the f*** that person is doing with their free time — posting on Twitter, probably. And again, we want these things in our in our communities, whether they’re cities, towns, whatever. We want restaurants, we want the things that they offer to us. That means we have to treat the work that makes them possible as being worthy of a living wage.

A: I mean, look, I got a response to someone who tweets, “Why should I pay someone $15 dollars an hour?” It’s called rising prices, for everyone. So your price has got to rise too, bro — because I’m assuming it was a bro who tweeted at you. You may be making more money in your job. Right? So this person needs to, too, because the prices across the country are going up, and they’ve been going up. That’s what happens, right? Yeah, my grandfather used to be able to buy a piece of candy for a penny — that doesn’t exist anymore. That’s what happens. His salary was also a lot lower, because he could buy a piece of candy for a penny, and then my mom was able to buy a piece of candy for 10 cents. That’s it. That’s how economics work. And we’ve been stuck in a situation where a large portion of this country has not gotten the pay raise they need while other people have. And don’t get me wrong, I’m sure there’s a lot of people that listen to this podcast who are professionals, who also haven’t gotten a pay raise. And I understand that. And that’s why people are moving from cities to other places because of the lower cost of living. And it’s unfortunate that in certain cities, the cost of living has become astronomical. Like New York, like Seattle, like San Francisco. But the least we can do is raise the minimum wage across the country to something that is livable in a majority of places and probably still will not be in some. In New York, $15 is not going to be enough. Right? It’s not. But it’s the least we can do. And it makes up for bad nights. It makes up for less customers. And again, the restaurateur will then have to do a true economic model and really look at their P & Ls to decide, OK, how many employees can I have? What model works? And this is why we talked about this a lot: “How much do I need a somm, compared to just a server,” or, “Should I be moving to more of a counter-service model?” Are people more OK with that? Everyone loves fast casual. Would they like casual dining? Does that mean you walk in like we’ve talked about with Popina before. You order at the counter and you sit in the backyard. You have an amazing meal, and Popina only has to pay a few servers. That’s potentially an option that you can look at. I think, actually, this will create a lot more creativity in the restaurant world, because people will have to think about, OK, so what are people willing to pay for? What are people willing to pay for? Are you willing to pay for a $25 burger that’s a basic burger that has a slab of cheese over it, or, sorry, a $30 burger even, let’s say, and that you could easily make at home in the backyard or on your stovetop? So then if you go out, are you looking for a burger that really is special in some way? It has a special proprietary meat blend, or I don’t know, you baked the buns in house, or it’s on a bun that you wouldn’t think of, or it has more of a gourmet cheese, or I don’t f****** know. Right? So that you can charge $35. That’s I think what restaurateurs are going to have to think about. What does it feel like when you’re there? Does it feel really fun, and are the drinks fun, and is it a great atmosphere? And all those things are things that people will have to start thinking about once the minimum wage is raised. But the pushback against it to me is really cruel. Is really cruel because it’s basically saying, “I get to have a business that I want. Because either I’m willing to take the financial risk of taking out the loan or I know someone who can loan me to start the business or whatever, but I don’t have to pay people a $15 minimum wage. I shouldn’t have to do that.” That, to me, is like, “then maybe you shouldn’t start a business.”

Z: Yeah, and I think it’s also, to be fair, it’s not all on the side of the people who are operating these businesses. There is definitely a segment of the restaurant-going public that is, I would say, adverse, if not outright antagonistic, towards the idea of paying more for anything. And even when menu prices would go up at restaurants I worked at because cost of everything has gone up, not just the cost of rent, but the cost of the produce, the cost of meats, the cost of everything has gone up, and prices would have to go up even to sustain what was maybe not a perfectly healthy business model, let alone one that was actually somewhat profitable. And people would complain. And most people understood this is the deal. And it’s not like the prices were hidden. But every time, for at least some amount of time, people would complain and say, “Oh, well, you know, why is this steak this price when six months ago it was this price?” Or, “I can get it cheaper at my grocery store.” And I’m not going to have a whole conversation about how things are priced in restaurants. Again, that’s another topic, maybe some other day. But I will say that part of it is, as those of you listening who are not part of the restaurant industry, never have been, never will be but are diners or would like to be diners in the future. The reality is that there are exactly two ways this can go. One is that we can do things like raise the minimum wage. And that comes with, yes, somewhat increased pricing in some places. Again, a $15 minimum wage in Seattle wouldn’t make a difference. The minimum wage is already over that here. So it’s not as if that’s going to make an impact here. It’s going to make an impact in some parts of the country for sure, in some places where that might actually be a living wage. But it will cause all wages to go up, at least to some extent. And that means you’re going to pay a little more. It’s just the reality of it. Americans are still, even after the growth of the restaurant industry, still spending a lot less of their disposable income on food than many other developed nations. And that’s just the reality. Food is expensive. It’s literally difficult to produce. A cow is not something you just order on Amazon. And so that’s one path. The other path, and again, I haven’t heard a lot of talk about this. I mean I have, but not from anyone who is in actual power, is we look at a model that’s a little bit more like what is the case in a lot of European nations, where food costs are not all that high, but that’s because the restaurant industry is subsidized by the federal government, by their national governments. They recognize that in the same way that we consider lots of other industries or lots of other aspects of our lives to be important and not necessarily in need of being completely connected to profitability, like the arts, like public transportation, that restaurants and food service and those kinds of things are something that we don’t want to be solely driven by profitability. And as a result, we as a society broadly say, “Hey, you know what? There are lots of ways in which the government could subsidize the cost of doing business as a restaurant.” Could be lower rents for restaurants and for other comparable business uses. There could be subsidies on foods, beverages, things like that. Things that would keep prices down for the end consumer at a holistic level. And I personally think that is a better approach. Now, do I think it is likely to be something that is enacted by the current government? Probably not. But it’s something to bear in mind that either costs can be borne by the people who will be dining out. And there’s a segment of people who think, “I don’t want my tax money essentially to go to something that I don’t use.” You people suck, but you’re out there. Or we can say we consider food to be, and access to food in all the various ways — and obviously access to food for people who don’t have food is the most important thing. But I would say that the ability to go have a meal made for you by someone else in a relatively non-laborious and not incredibly expensive fashion is an unquestionable public good. And if it is, we have to treat it as such, and we have to subsidize it. That’s just the reality. That’s how things work in a society.

A: I agree, man. I think all of this is just something where I think the people who are at all critical of this decision need to just sit down, take a look in the mirror, and think about why. Because I think to the majority of us, I’ve gotten pretty passionate about it, you’ve gotten pretty passionate about it. At this point, it’s a no-brainer and there’s not a lot else to say about it. Right? And I think if you’re someone who’s listening to the podcast and you’re on the fence, I would encourage you to think about why you don’t think people deserve to make at least $15 an hour. Why don’t they deserve that? And what does that say about you that you feel that way?

Z: And if the answer is because I barely make more than that, then you also should make more money.

A: I agree.

Z: That is the thing here, right? Minimum wage applies to everyone. It’s not just restaurant workers, obviously. And yes, costs will go up some. But the whole point here, one of the conversations we are having in this country is there is an unfathomable and, frankly, unconscionable amount of wealth concentrated in the hands of relatively few people. And that is not something that any society throughout human history has been able to sustain for long because the rest of us don’t f****** like it. And you can get riled up about someone who works at a fast-food restaurant making almost as much money as you, or you can go ask your boss why you don’t make more money. And especially if they are someone who, or your business is doing real well — and there are lots of them out there right now — to me, that’s the question we all have to be asking. I mean, I don’t mean to make this overtly political, exactly. It’s hard to avoid with a topic like this. But fundamentally, if someone making $15 an hour threatens your own sense of self-worth from your salary or your hourly rate, you don’t make enough money, either.

A: Look, this is the first generation in history where the kids are going to make less than their parents. The kids in the work are now going to make less than their parents. That is insane. That has not been the story of America. That hasn’t been the story of the world, and that’s what we’re looking at right now. During the pandemic, the top 5 percent of the population made more money than they have made in the past. They’ve done very well. There needs to be an evening out here. I’m not calling for socialism, communism, whatever. I’m just calling for equity. I’m calling for some equity here. Also, that’s a population that eats out the most. They can afford to pay a little bit more on the menu so that people can make $15 an hour. And I think, that’s all there is to say, right? There’s a way that we can start to try to make everyone pay their fair share. There’s taxes that we’ve talked about. We don’t have to get into this here, because it’s not this podcast, as you said, Zach. But, the least we can do as lovers of food and beverage is advocate for people being paid at least $15 an hour. Full stop. All right, man, I will see you back next week. If you guys have thoughts about the podcast, as always, hit us up at podcasts@vinepair.com. We love to hear your thoughts. We got a great listener email earlier this week that’s actually going to turn into a topic for another show about whether, sort of on the same topic, sommeliers and bartenders should think about moving from cities to smaller towns and looking at opportunities there starting their own thing. Which is a topic Zach and I are really excited about. That’ll be coming either next week or in the weeks later. But if you have any ideas, always shoot us an email. We love to hear from you guys, and we love to hear your feedback — not only on this show, but also on things you want to hear. So again, podcast@vinepair.com. And Zach, man, next week will you be drinking? No, since it’ll be Dry January.

Z: Well, I think when I’m recording, yes, I will still be sober. By the time everyone hears it, I will have had a drink.

A: Enjoy your bitters and soda, man.

Z: Sounds great.

Thanks so much for listening to the VinePair Podcast. If you enjoy listening to us every week, please leave us a review or rating on iTunes, Spotify, or wherever it is that you get your podcasts. It really helps everyone else discover the show. Now for the credits. VinePair is produced by myself and Zach Geballe. It is also mixed and edited by him. Yeah, Zach, we know you do a lot. I’d also like to thank the entire VinePair team, including my co-founder, Josh, and our associate editor, Cat. Thanks so much for listening. See you next week.

Ed. note: This episode has been edited for length and clarity.

The article VinePair Podcast: Why Restaurants and Bars Should Welcome a $15 Minimum Wage appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/podcast-15-dollar-minimum-wage/

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VinePair Podcast: Why Restaurants and Bars Should Welcome a $15 Minimum Wage

Are you aiming to cut back on calories and alcohol but still want to enjoy a delicious glass of wine? Mind and Body Wines are your perfect solution. These low-calorie, low-alcohol wines are only 90 calories per serving and are vegan, gluten-free, non-GMO and made without added sugar. With Mind and Body, you can sip without sacrifice. Learn more at mindandbodywines.com.

Among many other actions as our new president, Joe Biden has called to increase the federal minimum wage in the U.S. to $15 per hour and eliminate the concept of the tipped minimum wage. In response, the restaurant and bar industries have largely claimed that such changes would adversely affect efforts to recover from the Covid-19 pandemic.

On this week’s “VinePair Podcast,” Adam Teeter and Zach Geballe discuss whether there’s any validity to these claims, why the claim that increasing the minimum wage will suddenly cause prices to skyrocket is silly, and why everyone from restaurateurs to diners should support the idea of a living wage for all workers.

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Or check out the conversation here

Adam: From Brooklyn, New York, I’m Adam Teeter.

Zach: And in Seattle, Washington, I’m Zach Geballe.

A: And this is the “VinePair Podcast.” Oh Zach, I feel so good. This is a great week. Feeling really positive. Feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. That’s all I’m going to say. Those who know, know.

Z: Dry January? Almost over.

A: Oh, yeah, that’s what I did. I’m done with that s***. But for those of you that aren’t, you might be interested in this week’s sponsor. Are you aiming to cut back on calories and alcohol but still want to enjoy a delicious glass of wine? Mind and Body Wines are your perfect solution. These low-calorie, low-alcohol wines are only 90 calories per serving and are vegan, gluten-free, non-GMO and made without added sugar. With Mind and Body, you can sip without sacrifice. Learn more at mindandbodywines.com. Yeah, man, I stopped. It was too much. I’m still in moderation, obviously. But this weekend, I did not imbibe, actually. But then on Sunday night, I was making a meal with Naomi, and she was like, are we not having wine? I made fresh pasta and a pasta sauce I like from Franny’s Cookbook. And I was like, “Yeah, we’re drinking wine.” And then Tuesday night, I again was like, “I don’t think I’m gonna drink.” But then Wednesday night, I was like, “It’s the inauguration. I gotta have something.”

Z: What did you inaugurate yourself with?

A: Just a beer, but a delicious beer.

Z: Just a beer? Yeah, that’s good.

A: It was a delicious beer. And then tonight, actually, I’m meeting up with a wine entrepreneur who I really respect a lot, Mary Taylor. I don’t know if we talked about this before.

Z: We’ve had Mary on the podcast!

A: That’s right! Yes. So Mary and I are getting drinks because she lives in Brooklyn, but just sold her place and is moving to Connecticut, and I was like, “I’d love to see you before I leave.” And, she and I are both Stern alums, and I think her wines are awesome. And I think her concept is really cool. It’s shocking to me that she’s the first person to do this. I mean, she’s literally just taking the importer label on the back of the label and putting it on the front of the label. But it’s so smart. And she’s gotten a lot of great pickups. I know the company’s growing a lot, so I’m excited to hear about that, but she was like, “Do you want to get beers?” And I was just like, “yeah.” I guess this is what’s happening. Let’s go sit outside and have a beer. I haven’t had a draft beer in a long time, so let’s sit in the cold and do that. So, yeah Dry January was a nice thing. It was a good week-and-a-half run. I really gave the old college try. But I realized that for me, a drink or two a few days a week is a nice reward. It’s a nice breakup. And I’m healthy. I exercise, I drink within reason. I’m not going to punish myself.

Z: Yeah, fair enough, man. I cannot argue with any of the generals or particulars there, because I just think for me it’s like I’ve just found that I have a harder time doing three or four days a week not drinking. I can do one, maybe two a week, but I hate to reiterate this on the podcast seemingly every other week, but life with kids, man, like I need that drink most weeks, most nights. But January, more than halfway there.

A: You just power through.

Z: Yeah. I mean I gotta tell you, I was very tempted by the inauguration. I was like, well you know if I didn’t drink four years ago at the last inauguration — and I didn’t, somehow — I’m not going to drink this time, either. So I’ll save my celebration for February.

A: I want to make another admission, too, which is that a few nights earlier this week, on one of the nights I wasn’t drinking. We have a SodaStream, and I was making some soda water and I was like, “Hmm. Should I put some bitters in this?” And then I was like, “I can’t do it, I can’t do it, because I can’t tell Zach I did it and liked it! So I’m not putting bitters in this. I’m putting lemon in it.”

Z: Cat Wolinksi, though, Cat is on team bitters and soda now. So she is. Yeah, she let me know. I think she posted on that on Twitter or something about it. I mean, I’ll try this. It’s not my drink. I didn’t create it. I mean, it’s been a restaurant staple, but it is really funny because a thing I learned from talking about this, having it out on the podcast and people responding to me about it, was the breakdown is really stark. If you have worked in a restaurant or you’re connected to someone who has, you are way more likely to have tried bitters and soda, which I guess makes sense because the biggest thing about it is at restaurants. Bitters are just there. Right?

A: Right, exactly.

Z: The s******** bar imaginable has Angostura bitters. And in a s***** bar, they’re probably not using it for anything else. So you can probably just load your drink up with it, your soda up with it. And most people at home, if they have bitters, they think that bitters are something you use two dashes of — which in a lot of cocktails you do, to be fair. But it was just really interesting to me to get the feedback from people that I know or on social media. Yeah, it was very skewed towards the restaurant industry. It maybe shouldn’t have surprised me, but did nonetheless.

A: What is your recipe for bitters and sodas? How many dashes is it, then?

Z: Oh, man. It’s to the point where I’ve stopped counting. I would say it’s probably a good quarter to a half-ounce of bitters.

A: So you’re getting that alcohol in there, then. You’re not doing Dry January! I mean, it’s the equivalent of having a quarter- or a half-ounce of whiskey. Yes, is there some amount of alcohol there? Sure. I’m also for work occasionally having to taste stuff and spit it out. Does no alcohol cross my lips? Of course not. But like, I’m also not drinking seven bitters and sodas in a sitting. I’ll drink one every few days. It’s a treat. Otherwise it’s just nothing but soda without the bitters. Sometimes with flavors. Because that is how my wife and I get through this month. She drinks flavored soda water year-round. But for me it’s mostly a January indulgence. Otherwise, I’m drinking other stuff.

A: I love Spindrift.

Z: Yeah, yeah. Great stuff.

A: Spindrift is my favorite.

Z: That’s the treat for me because it’s got some fruit juice in it. And then most of the rest of the time it’s whatever brand or some combination of the famous ones and whatever ones Kaitlyn orders via Amazon Fresh that show up. I don’t know, they’re proprietary brands that I don’t even remember, but they’re just in the fridge. I just grab one. Are you particular about flavor, though? Because I am very particular on flavor with these.

A: Oh yeah. So for me, for Spindrift, I’m grapefruit all the way.

Z: I have yet to try the grapefruit. They keep being sold out, the blackberry is the one I really like. I can do the raspberry lime which we have sometimes. The thing I can’t do is, not so much with Spindrift, but there’s the whole thing about coconut soda water and I just can’t do it. It tastes weird to me. It’s oily and I don’t dig it. My wife loves them. So they’re all her.

A: She likes the coconut-flavored sparkling waters?

Z: Yeah. And I just can’t get behind it. I like most of them, but coconut just missed me with that one. I like coconut water, I like coconut-flavored things generally. But the coconut sparkling water, it’s a texture thing or a perceived texture thing or something. I’m not sure.

A: That’s crazy, man. So, today we’re talking about minimum wage, right?

Z: That’s right.

A: You want to lead us off?

Z: I do. Because we were talking a little bit about the inauguration, and one of the many things that may change going forward under the Biden administration and Democratic-controlled House and Senate is potentially a pretty fundamental change to minimum wage laws in this country. The minimum wage is $7.25 an hour at the federal level. And it hasn’t gone up for over 20 years, I believe. And I don’t want to get into a whole long conversation about why that is. Other than that, it’s f****** ridiculous that the minimum wage has not gone up in that amount of time. And obviously, there are lots and lots of states and localities that have higher minimum wages. I live in one of them. You do, too. But at the same time, raising the federal minimum wage obviously has a big impact because it’s the floor for anything. And specifically, this proposal would also get rid of the idea of a tipped minimum wage, meaning in places like New York and a number of other states — although not here in Washington — you can pay someone less than minimum wage at an hourly rate if they are making enough money in tips to get to that level or above. And there’s been a lot of outcry from the restaurant industry, from really certain parts of it, that this kind of proposal would greatly harm restaurants, small operators, etc.,  including the National Restaurant Association. And I will let you give your thoughts, but I will say concisely at the moment that to me that is total bulls***. And it is a particularly kind of heinous and pernicious lie that the restaurant industry has told for a very long time, and I’m happy to explain why in a moment. But I want to give you a chance to talk, because I have my perspective. I was paid an hourly wage for the majority of my life. So I have strong feelings about it as someone who made essentially minimum wage for quite a number of years.

A: Yeah. I mean, so I think it’s criminal that the minimum wage has been what it’s been. So I completely agree with you. I want to talk about this on the basis of just being a business owner. I think what is lacking — I’m not saying that my path was the path for everyone. I’m not saying that. But I guess what I’m trying to say is, I think that there has been a thesis over the last 10 to 15 years coming out of Silicon Valley, coming out of a lot of other places, that “education doesn’t matter” and that entrepreneurs should be able to do whatever they want, and everyone should just start businesses. And I worked at a business that went under. It wasn’t mine, but it was a record label that I loved dearly. And I was there when it went bankrupt. And so for me, I really wanted to understand how you start a business. So I went back to business school. And I learned about accounting, and I learned about business plans and PNLs and budgeting. And what I also learned is if the business can’t make money, you shouldn’t start the business. And I think that there is this idea that anyone should be able to have a business with all of this, like “gig economy.” I’m f****** sick of the gig economy. It’s not sustainable. It doesn’t take care of humans. Have you looked at f***** Door Dash’s stock price recently? It’s insane. It’s f***** insane. I’m just saying. And the people who are running Door Dash who are actually doing the deliveries are making nothing. And the restaurants aren’t making money. Nothing. This is unsustainable. And this is my soapbox to get to restaurants, which is there’s a lot of these people who have models that are sustainable, and others that don’t. And when you sit down and you decide you want to open a restaurant, you’ve got to look at the model and say, can we afford to pay people a living wage with the food we want to sell and the prices we want to charge and all those things? And if we can’t, then maybe we can’t have a restaurant, or maybe this restaurant model doesn’t work for this place. I don’t know how else you do it. We are going to have to raise the minimum wage in this country. We haven’t raised it in decades. It needs to catch up with the cost of living. People haven’t had a pay raise, and everything else is going up. Rent is going up. Gas is going up. So this has to happen. And yeah, I think it’s bullshit. And it’s one of these things where it’s become this narrative that we’re all telling that’s being reinforced by these organizations, as you mentioned. And look, again, I’ve only ever worked — as we talked about in this podcast a lot — as a cater waiter. I’ve never been in a restaurant. I have lots of friends who are restaurateurs. I understand it’s a really hard business. I do not want to be in their position. I think anyone who opens a restaurant is crazy. I love eating at them, but I think it’s crazy. Right? Because it’s so hard. It’s so hard to make a living but yeah, some people really do it to great success, to great success. And a lot of people who do it to great success, too, that I’ve found, have really happy employees. And usually, it’s because their employees are taken care of. And I think it’s unfortunate that we have to force the rest of the country to take care of their employees. But I think it’s the only way we are going to ultimately have a successful restaurant industry and a healthy restaurant industry, especially coming out of Covid. But again, I’ve never worked in a restaurant. So I’m curious, the stuff that I’m saying, is this resonating, Zach? Am I crazy to *say, “Well, look, if you can’t afford this person, then then you can’t have a restaurant.” Is that just me being a mean old business person being like, “Well, look, the numbers don’t work, so go f*** yourself.” Because that’s kind of how I feel. You’ve got to look at the numbers. If the numbers don’t work, the numbers don’t work. But other people would say that’s not fair.

Z: Yeah, well, I would say a couple of things. One is I’ve never owned a restaurant myself, so I will speak at this from my perspective, as someone who’s worked at a variety of different levels throughout restaurants and been pretty involved in opening them and understanding some of how they work. But it’s never been my money on the line, it’s never been my name on the business license, etc. So take that caveat. I don’t think you’re wrong at all. And I think that actually one of the biggest issues we had in the restaurant industry, pre-Covid, was every last person who had a little bit of knowledge, a little bit of maybe some acclaim or at least a little bit of attention and some backing could open a restaurant. And many of them were just never going to succeed. I have been to, I have been offered jobs at, I have dined at so many restaurant concepts that were just so clearly not thought out by someone who understood anything about how a business is profitable. By people who maybe had really, really great food, great bar programs, great wine programs, all kinds of things. But in the end, what they were doing was not going to make money. And then as it turns out, if either it’s just you or your family or you have investors, somewhere down the road you have to make money. And you might have a longer or shorter runway depending on how you’re financing things. But it is not infinite. And as you said, no business concept is entitled to be profitable just because you like it. And one of the most important things to recognize here is that one of the reasons why the tip economy and “tipping” as a function in the American restaurant industry has persisted as long as it has is it served a very useful function for restaurant owners because they didn’t have to pay their front-of-the-house staff very much. And that meant they didn’t have to pay payroll taxes on what those people were making. That is a huge reason why tip culture has persisted as long as it has, because — we’re not going to have a whole conversation about tipping, I don’t think — but tipping is a part of this whole issue, right? It is cutting out the restaurant, and the restaurant owner, and the restaurant ownership, from compensation for a big chunk of their workforce, which is, frankly f****** insane. I mean, again, it’s not how any other kind of business works. I don’t go to the grocery store and decide that, I don’t think the person at the seafood counter did a good enough job picking out my piece of salmon, so I’m not going to tip them, and they don’t make money. That is an insane business concept. The owner or operator of any business should want to have control over their employees’ wages so that they can compensate them adequately and ensure that the person who is working for them’s goals are aligned with their own. And so, there’s this whole long, sordid history of restaurants and restauranteurs underpaying people, underpaying undocumented workers, threatening to report them to ICE or INS before that. There’s just so many things that go on when people are not paid a living wage: no healthcare, people working sick. I mean, think about how crazy that sounds now to us in this Covid landscape that I and everyone I worked with would show up to work when by any standards of the health department, we should have stayed home, but because there’s no sick pay in most places — that’s changed in some places including in Seattle — there’s no vacation time, there’s no policy that allows for someone who should not be working for whatever reason, health or otherwise, to stay home. Someone who’s just had a kid, there’s no paid parental leave. All these things, unless a local or state government has passed these laws, none of that is mandated at a federal level. And very few — some, but very few — restaurateurs will offer that as a benefit just on their own goodwill. And again, it just creates a persistent issue within the industry of people being absolutely on the brink of financial ruin for things that should not ruin anyone. You know, I’m not talking about horrific injury or terminal illness, or I should say potentially life-threatening illness or things like that. That shouldn’t ruin anyone, either. But those are at least huge problems that are hard to anticipate. But I’m talking about someone breaking their arm — a four-to-six-week injury, less than that, really if you’re not doing something really, really intense. And I’ve known people who were basically begging their coworkers to give them money because they had nothing saved because their job barely allowed them to pay for the cost of their apartment in Seattle or in San Francisco or in New York or whatever. We want restaurants in these cities. The people who work in jobs that are still employed right now, who are sitting at their computers listening to this, you want restaurants in your city. You want to be able to order food via these horrific parasitic apps delivered to your door whenever. But the people who make that happen cannot afford to live, not just in the city. In many cases, they can’t even afford to live within an hour. I mean, I was stunned by the end of 2020 how many people I worked with in Seattle who lived an hour, an hour and a half commute away each way. And these are people who are commuting home late at night. Some of them are people who might not be safe commuting late at night on public transit, potentially. There’s just so many issues. And it all stems from the fact that in some way, we societally have viewed restaurant work and similar service- sector work as being “less than.” And that is a fundamental issue that is not fixed by a raise in the minimum wage. But in some sense, it is because, you look at — God help me, Adam you know it’s a curse of mine that I look at Twitter too much. But look at all the people responding, all the people tweeting things like, “Well, why should I pay? Why should someone who’s washing dishes or someone who’s flipping burgers make $15 an hour?” As if doing those things is somehow any less noble a pursuit than whatever the f*** that person is doing with their free time — posting on Twitter, probably. And again, we want these things in our in our communities, whether they’re cities, towns, whatever. We want restaurants, we want the things that they offer to us. That means we have to treat the work that makes them possible as being worthy of a living wage.

A: I mean, look, I got a response to someone who tweets, “Why should I pay someone $15 dollars an hour?” It’s called rising prices, for everyone. So your price has got to rise too, bro — because I’m assuming it was a bro who tweeted at you. You may be making more money in your job. Right? So this person needs to, too, because the prices across the country are going up, and they’ve been going up. That’s what happens, right? Yeah, my grandfather used to be able to buy a piece of candy for a penny — that doesn’t exist anymore. That’s what happens. His salary was also a lot lower, because he could buy a piece of candy for a penny, and then my mom was able to buy a piece of candy for 10 cents. That’s it. That’s how economics work. And we’ve been stuck in a situation where a large portion of this country has not gotten the pay raise they need while other people have. And don’t get me wrong, I’m sure there’s a lot of people that listen to this podcast who are professionals, who also haven’t gotten a pay raise. And I understand that. And that’s why people are moving from cities to other places because of the lower cost of living. And it’s unfortunate that in certain cities, the cost of living has become astronomical. Like New York, like Seattle, like San Francisco. But the least we can do is raise the minimum wage across the country to something that is livable in a majority of places and probably still will not be in some. In New York, $15 is not going to be enough. Right? It’s not. But it’s the least we can do. And it makes up for bad nights. It makes up for less customers. And again, the restaurateur will then have to do a true economic model and really look at their P & Ls to decide, OK, how many employees can I have? What model works? And this is why we talked about this a lot: “How much do I need a somm, compared to just a server,” or, “Should I be moving to more of a counter-service model?” Are people more OK with that? Everyone loves fast casual. Would they like casual dining? Does that mean you walk in like we’ve talked about with Popina before. You order at the counter and you sit in the backyard. You have an amazing meal, and Popina only has to pay a few servers. That’s potentially an option that you can look at. I think, actually, this will create a lot more creativity in the restaurant world, because people will have to think about, OK, so what are people willing to pay for? What are people willing to pay for? Are you willing to pay for a $25 burger that’s a basic burger that has a slab of cheese over it, or, sorry, a $30 burger even, let’s say, and that you could easily make at home in the backyard or on your stovetop? So then if you go out, are you looking for a burger that really is special in some way? It has a special proprietary meat blend, or I don’t know, you baked the buns in house, or it’s on a bun that you wouldn’t think of, or it has more of a gourmet cheese, or I don’t f****** know. Right? So that you can charge $35. That’s I think what restaurateurs are going to have to think about. What does it feel like when you’re there? Does it feel really fun, and are the drinks fun, and is it a great atmosphere? And all those things are things that people will have to start thinking about once the minimum wage is raised. But the pushback against it to me is really cruel. Is really cruel because it’s basically saying, “I get to have a business that I want. Because either I’m willing to take the financial risk of taking out the loan or I know someone who can loan me to start the business or whatever, but I don’t have to pay people a $15 minimum wage. I shouldn’t have to do that.” That, to me, is like, “then maybe you shouldn’t start a business.”

Z: Yeah, and I think it’s also, to be fair, it’s not all on the side of the people who are operating these businesses. There is definitely a segment of the restaurant-going public that is, I would say, adverse, if not outright antagonistic, towards the idea of paying more for anything. And even when menu prices would go up at restaurants I worked at because cost of everything has gone up, not just the cost of rent, but the cost of the produce, the cost of meats, the cost of everything has gone up, and prices would have to go up even to sustain what was maybe not a perfectly healthy business model, let alone one that was actually somewhat profitable. And people would complain. And most people understood this is the deal. And it’s not like the prices were hidden. But every time, for at least some amount of time, people would complain and say, “Oh, well, you know, why is this steak this price when six months ago it was this price?” Or, “I can get it cheaper at my grocery store.” And I’m not going to have a whole conversation about how things are priced in restaurants. Again, that’s another topic, maybe some other day. But I will say that part of it is, as those of you listening who are not part of the restaurant industry, never have been, never will be but are diners or would like to be diners in the future. The reality is that there are exactly two ways this can go. One is that we can do things like raise the minimum wage. And that comes with, yes, somewhat increased pricing in some places. Again, a $15 minimum wage in Seattle wouldn’t make a difference. The minimum wage is already over that here. So it’s not as if that’s going to make an impact here. It’s going to make an impact in some parts of the country for sure, in some places where that might actually be a living wage. But it will cause all wages to go up, at least to some extent. And that means you’re going to pay a little more. It’s just the reality of it. Americans are still, even after the growth of the restaurant industry, still spending a lot less of their disposable income on food than many other developed nations. And that’s just the reality. Food is expensive. It’s literally difficult to produce. A cow is not something you just order on Amazon. And so that’s one path. The other path, and again, I haven’t heard a lot of talk about this. I mean I have, but not from anyone who is in actual power, is we look at a model that’s a little bit more like what is the case in a lot of European nations, where food costs are not all that high, but that’s because the restaurant industry is subsidized by the federal government, by their national governments. They recognize that in the same way that we consider lots of other industries or lots of other aspects of our lives to be important and not necessarily in need of being completely connected to profitability, like the arts, like public transportation, that restaurants and food service and those kinds of things are something that we don’t want to be solely driven by profitability. And as a result, we as a society broadly say, “Hey, you know what? There are lots of ways in which the government could subsidize the cost of doing business as a restaurant.” Could be lower rents for restaurants and for other comparable business uses. There could be subsidies on foods, beverages, things like that. Things that would keep prices down for the end consumer at a holistic level. And I personally think that is a better approach. Now, do I think it is likely to be something that is enacted by the current government? Probably not. But it’s something to bear in mind that either costs can be borne by the people who will be dining out. And there’s a segment of people who think, “I don’t want my tax money essentially to go to something that I don’t use.” You people suck, but you’re out there. Or we can say we consider food to be, and access to food in all the various ways — and obviously access to food for people who don’t have food is the most important thing. But I would say that the ability to go have a meal made for you by someone else in a relatively non-laborious and not incredibly expensive fashion is an unquestionable public good. And if it is, we have to treat it as such, and we have to subsidize it. That’s just the reality. That’s how things work in a society.

A: I agree, man. I think all of this is just something where I think the people who are at all critical of this decision need to just sit down, take a look in the mirror, and think about why. Because I think to the majority of us, I’ve gotten pretty passionate about it, you’ve gotten pretty passionate about it. At this point, it’s a no-brainer and there’s not a lot else to say about it. Right? And I think if you’re someone who’s listening to the podcast and you’re on the fence, I would encourage you to think about why you don’t think people deserve to make at least $15 an hour. Why don’t they deserve that? And what does that say about you that you feel that way?

Z: And if the answer is because I barely make more than that, then you also should make more money.

A: I agree.

Z: That is the thing here, right? Minimum wage applies to everyone. It’s not just restaurant workers, obviously. And yes, costs will go up some. But the whole point here, one of the conversations we are having in this country is there is an unfathomable and, frankly, unconscionable amount of wealth concentrated in the hands of relatively few people. And that is not something that any society throughout human history has been able to sustain for long because the rest of us don’t f****** like it. And you can get riled up about someone who works at a fast-food restaurant making almost as much money as you, or you can go ask your boss why you don’t make more money. And especially if they are someone who, or your business is doing real well — and there are lots of them out there right now — to me, that’s the question we all have to be asking. I mean, I don’t mean to make this overtly political, exactly. It’s hard to avoid with a topic like this. But fundamentally, if someone making $15 an hour threatens your own sense of self-worth from your salary or your hourly rate, you don’t make enough money, either.

A: Look, this is the first generation in history where the kids are going to make less than their parents. The kids in the work are now going to make less than their parents. That is insane. That has not been the story of America. That hasn’t been the story of the world, and that’s what we’re looking at right now. During the pandemic, the top 5 percent of the population made more money than they have made in the past. They’ve done very well. There needs to be an evening out here. I’m not calling for socialism, communism, whatever. I’m just calling for equity. I’m calling for some equity here. Also, that’s a population that eats out the most. They can afford to pay a little bit more on the menu so that people can make $15 an hour. And I think, that’s all there is to say, right? There’s a way that we can start to try to make everyone pay their fair share. There’s taxes that we’ve talked about. We don’t have to get into this here, because it’s not this podcast, as you said, Zach. But, the least we can do as lovers of food and beverage is advocate for people being paid at least $15 an hour. Full stop. All right, man, I will see you back next week. If you guys have thoughts about the podcast, as always, hit us up at podcasts@vinepair.com. We love to hear your thoughts. We got a great listener email earlier this week that’s actually going to turn into a topic for another show about whether, sort of on the same topic, sommeliers and bartenders should think about moving from cities to smaller towns and looking at opportunities there starting their own thing. Which is a topic Zach and I are really excited about. That’ll be coming either next week or in the weeks later. But if you have any ideas, always shoot us an email. We love to hear from you guys, and we love to hear your feedback — not only on this show, but also on things you want to hear. So again, podcast@vinepair.com. And Zach, man, next week will you be drinking? No, since it’ll be Dry January.

Z: Well, I think when I’m recording, yes, I will still be sober. By the time everyone hears it, I will have had a drink.

A: Enjoy your bitters and soda, man.

Z: Sounds great.

Thanks so much for listening to the VinePair Podcast. If you enjoy listening to us every week, please leave us a review or rating on iTunes, Spotify, or wherever it is that you get your podcasts. It really helps everyone else discover the show. Now for the credits. VinePair is produced by myself and Zach Geballe. It is also mixed and edited by him. Yeah, Zach, we know you do a lot. I’d also like to thank the entire VinePair team, including my co-founder, Josh, and our associate editor, Cat. Thanks so much for listening. See you next week.

Ed. note: This episode has been edited for length and clarity.

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