#not hot boss man but our department head came around to say thanks for all we do and it was so fucking awkward

[mikichko]

john price is a man incredibly high up in the chain of command of your company. he does a little walking tour of the buildings during crew appreciation weeks. helps humble down his image and he gets to have some meaningful conversations. sometimes even gets to meet particularly wonderful people.

he spots you, the sole person whose eyes are glued to their computer screen, in a sea of employees who are gawking at him. can hear the steady typing from your mechanical keyboard, your eyes flittering across the screen. he pauses a little too long, prompting laswell to repeat herself to the group before they move along.

but he makes sure not to be too far away, keeping you in his peripheral. notices how you don't even bother to spare a look in his direction. even when talking to team members that would place john directly in your sight, your eyes only focus on them. not him.

you were damn good at your job. the color-coded whiteboard behind you, filled with deadlines and application information, confirms it. funny too, if the little bouts of laughter that escape your team's cluster are anything to go by. he wonders what pitch your voice carries, just out of reach for it to bless his ears. wonders what it'd take for you to look and grant him a smile.

he doesn't have to wait long. your mouth splits into a bright smile and for a second john wonders if you're glowing. but the smile's not for him. it's directed at a coworker, who, for john's sake, is anything but quiet. he can hear just how thick he lays the praise for a job well done.

john watches the transformation that takes place as his words land. your soft easy-going smile widening, pushing your cheeks further up. you immediately perk up, back straightening, shoulders pushed back, and leaning forward in the direction of your coworker.

oh. oh.

john can feel something warm beginning to pool at the bottom of his stomach. he cracks a knuckle before shoving his fists into his pockets, lest he does something that lands him in HR.

he'll keep this tidbit with him for the next time he sees you. just so he can let you know how much of a good job you're doing.

maybe even get a reward.

a/n: silly little idea that came to my head while I was at work of course :') still trying to get out of my head when im writing but we're making progress

[nugnthopkns]

dance me to the end of love (ii)

word count: 3.3k

warnings: fem!oc, alcohol consumption, cursing

series masterpost: here

a/n: part two baby! thanks for all the love on part one, it means the absolute world. i have so much love for this story and i hope people are enjoying it :))

Life is settling into a comfortable rhythm.

After spending a good chunk of her young adult life being incredibly studious, Magdalene can finally have the social life of someone in their mid-twenties. Though she’s still spending a fair amount of time by herself in the basements of the University of Denver’s library, Bette convinces her to go out more. Magdalene tries to fight, citing extra work or a good book as an excuse to stay home, but it doesn’t work very often. The pleas of her friend are how Magdalene finds herself currently lounging poolside at Erik Johnson’s house on a Sunday afternoon.

“How’s the new career treating you?” Tyson asks. “I feel like we haven’t seen you in a while.”

Magdalene laughs. “I’ve seen Bette plenty,” she says, “She thinks I won’t take a lunch break unless she shows up.”

“Would you?” the blonde girl questions with a quirked brow.

“Probably not.”

“I rest my case.”

A small crowd gathers around as Magdalene begins to detail the specifics of her job, but she doesn’t feel as uncomfortable as she once would have. In the month or so since graduating school she’s found herself slowly being incorporated into the Avalanche family. It’s almost certainly because Bette and Tyson championed her case, explaining that she doesn’t have much of a support system beyond the two of them, but she doesn’t mind. A few of the guys ask her questions about her work, curious as to why someone would want to spend their life combing through piles of old things. Everyone stays engaged in the conversation until there’s a shout from the kitchen that dinner is ready.

Magdalene shuffles in line behind André, filling her plate with various pasta salads and a hamburger. Once situated with enough food for two meals she returns to the pool deck, sitting on the edge and dipping her toes into the cool water. Bette comes and finds her a minute later and the two of them begin to eat.

She’s still relatively new to the group’s dynamic, but Magdalene can’t help but notice that Ryan is never around. In fact, Magdalene hasn’t seen him since her graduation party. Taking a casual sip of her wine cooler, she asks her friend about the man’s absence.

“Why is Ryan never at these sorts of things?”

Bette shrugs. “Isn’t a huge one for parties. He was supposed to come today, but I guess something came up.”

“I’m not huge on parties,” Magdalene huffs, “But that doesn’t stop you from dragging me to every single one.”

“Unlike you, Gravy gets enough regular social interaction that his absence is permissible. If Tyson and I didn’t take you out you’d talk to your cat more than normal.”

She wants to fight back, but knows it’s pointless. Bette has a point – if it weren’t for her the only people Magdalene would interact with are her boss and her cat. Instead, she grumbles under her breath and changes the subject to the trip Bette is in the middle of planning. It’s coming up in a few weeks, and Magdalene wants to hear a bit more about it before she commits. Despite what she thought about taking time off so close to starting work, it was encouraged by June, but she's refraining from telling Bette that. If it doesn’t sound like she'll enjoy it, Magdalene is banking on being able to use the excuse.

Bette explains that she’s renting a large lake house that is perfect for a relaxing week away from adult responsibilities. The property has kayaks and a hot tub, which pretty much ensures that Magdalene will want to be in attendance. She’ll hold onto that information for a little while longer though, if for no other reason to make Bette squirm a little. At some point Tyson comes to sweep his girlfriend away and leaves Magdalene at the party alone. She makes polite conversation with some other players for a while before heading home herself. Ryan never shows up, despite how much Magdalene hopes he will. At the very least she wants to properly thank him for doing her a favour, though her hoping to see him is much more selfish. He intrigues her and she wants to know more about the tall man with the dazzling smile and a proclivity for wearing all black.

☼☼☼☼

Barn Owl Book Company is filled to the brim when Magdalene approaches the store from the side street it annexes. She should’ve expected it – it’s the first of the month and their newest books are hitting the shelves. However, Magdalene doesn’t exactly have time to wait in line. June gave her only fifteen minutes to run and grab them coffee before they continue the massive task of digitizing a private collection that has just been donated to the university. She estimates it will take almost a month of extended hours to get everything done, and Magdalene believes it. There’s so much to wade through but she knows the end result will be satisfying.

Luckily the café line is fairly short, and Magdalene reaches the counter in a timely manner. “Hey,” she greets the barista warmly, “Could I just grab two medium iced cappuccinos?”

“Anything else?”

“No, that's everything. It’ll be on debit,” she smiles. Magdalene reaches into her backpack to grab her wallet only to find that it’s missing. Shit. The barista has already left to make the drinks, completely unaware that her customer is unable to pay.

Magdalene hears a voice from behind her say, “I’ve got it, don’t worry.” She turns around to find Ryan Graves standing there with a book tucked under his right arm.

“You’re a lifesaver,” she mumbles appreciatively. “I don’t know how my boss would take it if I showed up empty handed.”

Ryan laughs shyly as he pulls his card away from the machine. “I get it, everyone needs a little caffeine this time of year.” The barista comes back with Magdalene’s drinks, which she takes with a smile and a wish for a good day. The two of them head towards the exit, and Ryan pauses once they’re on the sidewalk. “Which way are you headed?”

“Back to work,” Magdalene says, nodding her head in the direction of campus. “I’ve got approximately five minutes to get there before June rips me a new one.”

“June?”

“She’s my boss,” she explains.

Ryan nods in understanding. “I’ll see you around Magdalene,” he smiles, turning on his heel and heading the opposite direction.

In a moment of bravery, Magdalene yells at his retreating figure. “Will you? We never seem to cross paths.”

“I’ll be at Bette and Tyson’s this weekend, and I’m counting on your company.”

Magdalene finds it incredibly hard to focus the rest of the afternoon. She keeps thinking about what Ryan said, which makes her a rather lousy archivist. June sends her home just after seven even though they had plans to stay until ten, citing the fact that she’s scanned the same photo three times before noticing. Caligula’s meowing for pets when she gets home isn’t even enough to distract her from the comment. The absentmindedness continues for another day or so, and it’s becoming so bad Magdalene is worried that June is going to fire her for incompetence.

It’s only when Bette calls to invite her over for dinner and drinks that her mind levels out. “I was wondering when I was going to get the call,” she chuckles absentmindedly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” is the response Magdalene receives.

“Well,” she explains, “I ran into Ryan at Barn Owl the other day and he paid for my drinks because I left my wallet on the table at work, and he said he expected to see me at your place this weekend. So if you never invited me I was just going to show up.”

Bette is smiling, that much Magdalene can infer by the lull in conversation. “I haven’t got the time to call you yet,” she concedes, “But consider this the official invitation to our house for a small party.”

“Anything we’re celebrating?”

“Nope. Have you ever needed a reason to party?”

Magdalene laughs. “Yes. Need one almost every time actually.”

The rest of the week passes fairly quickly. To make up for her blundering earlier in the week Magdalene offers to work a full day on Saturday, by herself, to get the project back on track. June accepts the proposition eagerly, and Magdalene lets Bette know she’ll be coming directly from work. Saturday rolls around and she spends most of her time getting lost in the past lives of the artefacts she’s dealing with. If someone were to ask Magdalene what her favourite part of archiving is, that’s the answer she’d give. There’s nothing more satisfying to her than holding a piece of history in her hands and imagining all the stories it would be able to tell if it could speak.

By the time she’s put in a full work day and finishes locking up the basement floor her department occupies, Magdalene is pretty sure they’re ahead of schedule on the project. She genuinely feels terrible about her misperformance and hopes June will be able to forgive her. On the way to Bette and Tyson’s Magdalene listens to the Leonard Cohen greatest hits cd that came with her car. The previous owner was presumably a big fan, and over the years Magdalene has come to appreciate the folk singer. She never got to see him in concert before his death but turns to his music when she needs to relax. Right now is the perfect time to listen to ‘Hallelujah’ on repeat because she’s seriously freaking out about the idea of spending the night talking to Ryan. Though she still wants to properly thank him and possibly become friends, something about him makes Magdalene nervous.

There’s no way for her to tell if Ryan is there when she parks in front of the house. She doesn’t know what kind of car he drives, or if he caught a ride with someone. Magdalene debates texting Bette to see if he’s there already but decides against it, knowing she’s an adult who is more than capable of pushing down nerves.

She doesn’t bother knocking and just steps into the respectably sized home. The music is loud enough that no one would have heard her anyways. It’s much more of a party than Magdalene was expecting – Bette invited her for dinner and drinks, not a gathering that could pass as a frat party. There are bodies everywhere, and she isn’t sure if she’ll ever catch a glimpse of her friend.

“You seem to be dressed for the wrong kind of party,” a voice chuckles from behind her.

Magdalene turns to see Ryan leaning against the wall, eyeing her business casual attire. “I came from work,” she explains, “And didn’t know it was this kind of party to begin with. I would’ve at least brought a change of clothes.”

“You look terribly out of place,” he agrees. “Can I grab you a drink? The hosts are too busy playing beer pong to, you know, be hosts.”

A giggle escapes Magdalene’s lips at the comment. Ryan seems to have a similar sense of humor to her, which will be beneficial for passing the time if Bette is already on her way to being wasted. “A glass of red wine would be nice.”

Ryan pushes off from his perch and heads towards the kitchen. The crowd parts for the six-foot-five hockey player, and Magdalene follows in his wake quite easily. Knowing the space as well as her, Ryan grabs a wine glass from the cupboard Bette keeps them in and pours the dark red liquid into it. He waits until Magdalene has situated herself on the island before handing her the cup. She takes it with an appreciative hum and waits until he’s grabbed a beer for himself before raising her glass in toast. Ryan does the same, and their glasses clink before each of them take a sip.

“What exactly is it that you do? I bet it’s something super cool and studious, but I seriously don’t know what the hell being an archivist means.”

Magdalene explains her job to Ryan, who is extremely interested. He asks nearly a hundred follow-up questions that she answers sincerely, throwing in a few jokes that luckily crack him up. Conversation moves to his career and then life. Magdalene learns that he’s from Nova Scotia, though he stays around Denver these days, and that if he wasn’t playing professional hockey he’d like to have a career in publishing. Ryan doesn’t press too hard when Magdalene refuses to open up about her family, which she appreciates. It’s a delicate subject that she keeps guarded close to her chest, and a friend’s kitchen in the middle of a party isn’t the place for her to divulge her deepest secrets.

The two of them get refills before exiting the room. Even more people seemed to arrive since Magdalene walked through the door, and the kitchen is no longer an empty safe haven. The music is so loud she can feel the bass thumping in her chest, giving the living room a club-like atmosphere, and it’s too much. Magdalene tugs at the hem of Ryan’s sweater to catch his attention. “Want to go somewhere quiet?”

“I doubt there is such a place,” he yells over the crowd going crazy over some early 2000s hip-hop track.

“Follow me,” she says with a smile, pointing over her shoulder in the direction of the staircase to the second floor.

It takes a minute for them to wade through the throngs of people, but it goes much faster once Ryan takes Magdalene’s hand and splits the crowd. A few boys, who don’t look older than twenty-one and almost certainly snuck into the party, notice where the pair are going and shout congratulations. Ryan shoots them a glare so sharp it could cut stone but doesn’t drop Magdalene’s hand. Once safely on the much quieter second floor, Magdalene makes a beeline for the bathroom.

“Are you coming or what?” she asks when there doesn’t seem to be footsteps following her.

Ryan hesitates. “I, uh, can just wait out here while you’re in there,” he stammers.

Magdalene’s laugh rings out through the empty hallway. “I’m not going to the bathroom. We’re going out the window.”

He isn’t sure how that’s any better, but Ryan follows the brown-haired girl into the room. It takes considerably more work for him to fit through the frame, but after some directions from Magdalene he makes it onto the roof. She sits down and pats the space beside her, encouraging Ryan to do the same. They stay out there, discussing anything that comes to their heads, until the party’s numbers dwindle drastically. Magdalene makes sure to properly thank him for both attending her graduation and spotting her coffee money, and she thinks Ryan might blush a little when she offers to get the next round. He asks about her love of The West Wing, and they launch into a long conversation about the show and cast. The sun fades to black and the cold sets in, and Magdalene finds herself wrapped in Ryan’s sweater without asking. It’s only when she notices it’s approaching midnight that Magdalene clues into how tired she is.

“I think I’m going to head out,” she yawns. Ryan nods in agreement and holds the window open for her to slip in through. Once downstairs, Magdalene goes to lift the sweater from her frame but Ryan stops her.

“Keep it for drive home. I’ll get it back next time we see each other.”

Still feeling bold from the alcohol that left her system hours ago, she reaches out to poke him in the chest. “And when will that be, hm? You seem to enjoy leaving our meetings up to chance.”

It’s Ryan’s turn to laugh. “Think you can swing an extended lunch break on Wednesday? I’ll be at Barn Owl all afternoon. Maybe you can join me for a coffee.”

Magdalene likes the sound of that and agrees. She leaves without seeing Bette or Tyson once, but she doesn’t mind. They’d be happy for her blooming friendship – or at least she’s pretty sure they will be once she calls to fill them in on the details.

☼☼☼☼

Wednesday rolls around without incident, and Magdalene is given a full hour to eat instead of thirty minutes. Walking time has to be accounted for, of course, but she should have nearly forty-five minutes to spend with Ryan if she plays her cards right. There’s no crowd this time, and it’s incredibly easy to spot Ryan sitting in the window she loves to claim as her own.

“Hey,” Magdalene greets, “Did Bette tell you to sit here?”

He shakes his head, perplexed at the question. “No, why?”

“It’s just my favourite seat in the store, that’s all. I thought she told you how to gain some extra brownie points.”

“Should I be concerned about the amount of points I have?” Ryan teases, sliding a cup and pastry bag across the table and into her hands.

Magdalene shakes her head, smiling widely. “You’re doing alright so far. Keep up the good work.”

They eat at a comfortable pace, taking breaks to engage in interesting topics of conversation or take sips of their drinks. Ryan insists his life is boring, but Magdalene is enthralled by the stories he tells. It’s completely different from hers and she feels as though she can live vicariously through the tales of walking through the historic downs of the east coast and swimming in the Pacific Ocean on days off in California. After squeezing every story possible from the man Magdalene shifts gears slightly.

“So, are you going on the trip in a couple of weeks?”

“It’s looking that way,” Ryan shrugs with relative indifference, “Nate doesn’t think he’ll be able to come back, something about a development camp he’s running having the dates switched. He’s asked me to take his spot.”

His neutral mood confuses her. When Bette mentioned his probable attendance months ago, it sounded like he was enthusiastic about spending a week with friends doing nothing to swimming and drinking. “You don’t want to go?” Magdalene probes.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, but sometimes the group parties a little harder than I like to,” he sighs, raising a hand and running it through his hair. That’s something she understands completely, having spent a few too many nights being the sober one out.

“I’ll be there.” It’s Magdalene’s turn to shrug, but the comment holds an incredible amount of hope.

“Well then, that changes everything.”

Was Ryan flirting with her? She spends the rest of lunch thinking about the possibility, and truthfully, it occupies her brain for the rest of the day. However, she keeps her focus and June is none the wiser to the butterflies in her stomach. Work finishes without much fanfare, and her dinner is silent save for the few meows of conversation Caligula offers. It’s late by the time Magdalene falls into bed, cat snuggled into the pillow beside her. On a whim she decides to check Instagram and sees a message request from none other than the man who’s smile has been replaying in her mind. A follow request accompanies it.

Thought that maybe we could quit leaving our meetings to chance and plan something next time :)

He has to be flirting. There’s no other explanation for the witty banter they’ve shared this week, or why he’s reaching out to her on social media. The butterflies in her stomach multiply tenfold as Magdalene types out a reply.

I don’t know, it’s kind of fun being shrouded in mystery. However, I now have the opportunity to stalk your profile ;)

Before she can overthink her use of the emoji, Magdalene shoves her phone in the drawer of her nightstand and rolls over. A slight smile can’t help but appear on her features as she falls asleep, already curious about what his reply will be.

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy @samsteel @lovethepreds (add yourself to the taglist!)

[jinmindeulle]

hot chocolate | jyh (2)

part 2/3

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 jeong yunho x reader, yang hongseok x reader

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 2.4 k

𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 angst, fluff / enemies to lovers au, tv news au, newsanchor!yunho x newsanchor!reader

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 mentions of sex and cursing

main masterlist | ateez masterlist

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ 　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚

To say that it was her fifth mental breakdown of the day was an understatement.

Y/n was preparing the report that her boss had asked her as the last part of her application for the job. It was just a simple story that she would later have to present on the live show right after Yunho’s. She had decided to talk about important women around the world as she felt confident in that area. She knew a lot about the topic of feminism and the importance of speaking up. That, however, didn’t spare her from feeling like a total failure when she asked Hongseok to proofread the script for her and he made a face.

“Are you sure you are not going to go off at a tangent if you talk about this topic? You know that your speech should flow, and when you are talking about something that you are passionate about or you know a lot of, you usually beat about the bush”

“What do you suggest? Changing the topic last minute?” she whined, plopping down Hongseok’s couch, right next to him.

“Narrow it down. You’re being too general here. Be more specific and don’t talk just to show off”

“Got it” y/n snatched the paper away from her friend and went back to her ‘workplace’ — Hongseok’s kitchen table.

Editing scripts was the part that she hated the most. Her usual job rarely involved that, because she was in charge of doing the research, checking and double-checking sources and outlining the report. Sometimes she wrote them just to avoid loosing that side of the job, but her department co-workers were the ones who proofread and corrected the script multiple times, not y/n.

That’s why she was staying the night at Hongseok’s. He was an expert in that field, his job as a script-writer for the Night Show helping him improve his skills more and more with every new story. What took the man a couple of hours to finish, took y/n her whole Saturday afternoon, and if it wasn’t for him, she would probably spend her entire weekend crying over her script.

“How’s that going?” Hongseok approached her from behind, placing his arms around her waist and his chin on her shoulder, rapidly scanning the words on her screen.

“Check yourself” she yawned, throwing her head backwards and accommodating it on the space between his neck and shoulder.

“Why don’t you have a warm shower? I have already called the pizza place and it won’t take long for them to arrive”

The girl sleepily nodded and left the chair as soon as her friend released her. He took her seat to keep reading her script, so she moved quickly to the bathroom. Now undressed and with the water warming up, she stretched her back, putting her hair up on a messy bun that prevented it from getting soaked. As soon as she entered the steamy shower, her mind took off.

And it landed on Jeong Yunho. Was that even necessary? She scoffed, turning around to make the hot water ease some of the back pain.

She would never admit it, but back then she had had a massive crush on him. Who would blame her, though? He was the most handsome man around campus, and he was all the time smiling. He had that special grin of his that lit up the darkest room.

But he had never showed that side of his to her. Maybe because she was his only competition in college who could actually beat his perfect records, or maybe because she was all the time with Hongseok. The truth was that Yunho had always avoided and ignored her every time she had dared to speak to him outside college hours.

So it had come as a surprise seeing him at the Seoul Morning News’ building two years before. She had been working there for a couple of months, and all of her ex-classmates knew that thanks to Hongseok, who proudly told the world about her rapid success. Why would he ever apply for a job that involved working with a person he hates? She never understood that, but at the same time didn’t even bother to question his decision.

An hour later and with a full stomach, y/n was all spread on Hongseok’s couch, her head on his thigh and his hands massaging her scalp “You’re too good to me, Hongie” she whispered, hugging his leg.

“I just love you” he replied. Out of shock, she sat up in a matter of milliseconds and looked at him with wide eyes “Don’t be silly. Not like that” he laughed, patting her head “I love you as a friend, and I love fucking you as a friend too”

“I saw my life flashing in front of my eyes for a second” she heavily breathed out, placing her hand on her chest, right on her heart.

“I’m sorry” he grinned, placing a soft kiss on her lips “I like messing around with you sometimes”

“Sometimes?” she raised one eyebrow, sitting on his lap and straddling his waist with her legs.

“Well, that depends what kind of ‘messing’ you are referring to” he smirked, rubbing his hands up and down her lower back.

“Why don’t you show me?”

“My pleasure, hun”

“I messed up” she cried, holding her phone with shaky hands “I messed up so bad, Hong”

“Why? What happened?” his concern was tangible even through the phone.

“I went blank for I don’t know how long. I completely forgot about my script and had to improvise a section of it. It was terrible. I’m a failure, and I’m not going to get the job at all. He was perfect. Yunho was amazing, as he always is. And I won’t blame Mr. Jung when he chooses him because he deserves that place more than anyone in here” y/n sobbed, sitting down on her desk, feeling how the shame and humiliation drowned her in tears.

“Y/n, I’m sure you’re just exagg-”

“I’m not, Hongseok! It was the worst thing I have ever done. I messed up and I know that. I missed the chance to get the job of my dreams. And I will never get another one of this”

When she decided that it was time to let her friend do his job in peace, she realized that she could not to go back outside of her office and face her co-workers who were expecting her to keep on her daily work without recomposing herself first. With heavy steps, she entered her little toilet and removed all of her make up. Washing it off and doing it again was the only reasonable option. Some minutes later, she found herself looking way better, but just hoping for her puffy eyes to go back to normal in a couple of hours top.

She left her office with her heard high but avoiding eye contact. It was hard to admit, but she knew that all of them had seen her embarrass herself in front of their boss. How was she supposed to come back from that? Her reputation was a joke right now.

“Miss Lee, I want to speak with you for a second”

Her eyes opened widely upon hearing her boss’ voice behind her. She turned around in a slow manner, reminding herself not to cry in front of him “Sure” Following the petit man to his office, she took some deep breaths to keep her heart from pounding that hard against her chest.

“So” Mr. Jung spoke up once they were settled “How do you feel?”

Y/n heavily exhaled and looked down, playing with the end of her black pencil skirt, a bad habit of hers when she felt anxious “I could have done much better”

“I believe just the same, my dear. I understand that you were nervous, though. It felt the same for me when I was the one being tried, so don’t worry too much. I know your potential” the man smiled, leaning over his desk “That’s why I’m giving you the job”

She had to have heard him wrong. He was giving her the position after messing up like that on her one and only chance? Was he even there when she went blank on national television?

“Wha-” she cut herself off, feeling how a thousand different emotions flowed inside her body.

“You showed me that you have the skills to be in front of the camera with a script, and without one. It was impressive, how in a matter of seconds you were able to keep on talking with Taeki about the issue like nothing had happened, like you never got lost in your own world”

“But I did get lost” she mumbled, feeling the tears blurring her vision once again.

“So what? It is not about following the script all the time, y/n. You are a professional when you know how to manage, how to get yourself out of a problem in just seconds. Everyone is talking about that, and you should be proud of yourself”

“I… I can’t believe this” she let out a laugh, completely out in disbelief.

“And you know what? You were so good that even Yunho decided to let you have the job”

The tears that had gathered in her eyes fell down her face altogether upon hearing Mr. Jung’s confession “What?” y/n asked, completely out of shock.

“As you hear it. He came to me an hour or so after we finished, and told me that you deserved the job more than he did. That you were capable of that and even more. I didn’t know that you went to college together! You didn’t seem like you were friends to me”

“We are not friends, Mr. Jung” y/n shook her head, drying her tears with the back of her hand “I can’t believe he told you that”

“Me neither. He seemed really enthusiastic about this job last week. But anyways, congratulations! Your training starts tomorrow. We have just a few days to get you ready to be our new news’ anchor”

She left that office with the most contradicting feelings she had ever felt. Of course, she was overjoyed. The fucking job of her damned dreams was hers! She had failed the task, but she got it despite of it. However, the fact that Yunho had given up his chance just to let her have it was not leaving her heart anytime soon. Why would he do that? He would never abandon such an opportunity just because she deserved it. Who thought like that nowadays? Who was that selfless?

Apparently, Yunho was. So she decided to wait for him outside the building three hours later. She knew he had the same schedule as Jaehyun, who always left half an hour after her.

Winter was her favourite season. Wearing long coats and fluffy scarves was her most enjoyable activity. But sometimes, having snow falling on her when she was out and about bothered her a little. Not like she was willing to admit that, especially to Hongseok, who defended summer with all of his passion. Luckily for her, the hot chocolate cups that she was holding kept her hands warm.

Just when she was about to leave, assuming that Yunho had left earlier, she distinguished his large frame going out of the building. He was busy putting on his gloves, so he never realized she was standing right next to him. She faked a cough, and it took a couple more to make him aware of her presence.

“Oh-sorry! My mind was somewhere else. How are you?” he smiled at her, and this time, it felt real. He had no second intentions, no secret plans. Just a genuine smile.

“I’m happy” she admitted, a little smile plastered on her own lips “Mr. Jung gave me the job”

“Right! I heard about that. Congratulations, y/n, you really deserve it. And I mean it”

“You know…” she replied, tearing her eyes away from his, which were looking at her with great intensity “He told me that you gave up the job”

Maybe it was because of the cold, but Yunho’s cheeks were painted a deep shade of pink. He looked across the street, shoving his hands on his coat’s pockets, and fought back a nervous smile.

“Why would you do that?” she pushed, taking advantage of his panicky state.

“You were the best candidate out of the two of us”

“That’s not what I want, Yunho” she scoffed “You made it clear that you would fight for the job, and that you always won. What happened today?”

“Nothing”

Y/n sighed. He was a hard one.

“Yunho, don’t be like that. I messed up and you did an outstanding job. You were the one who deserved that position, and you know that. So why? Why would you give it up?”

“I heard you crying” he confessed, looking at her right in the eye “I heard you when you told Hongseok that it was your dream job, and I just couldn’t do it. How awful as a person would I be to tear your dreams apart when I have the power to just help them become a reality? I know that you think of me as a selfish, competitive bastard. But I’m not like that. It was just-”

“A façade” she interrupted him, feeling how her eyes flooded with tears “But you just put it out for me”

Yunho sighed, and cursed with a deep mumble.

“It’s okay” y/n shook her head, fighting the tears back “You don’t have to explain anything. I get that you don’t like m-”

“It’s not that, y/n, it’s not that at all” the boy took his hands out of his pockets and placed them on the sides of her arms.

“Really, Yunho, don’t worry about that. I just wanted to thank you. I’m not sure if I deserve that but I’ll make sure not to let you down” she exhaled heavily, taking a step back in order to leave “Oh! I almost forgot” she extended one of her arms towards him “This is for you. I know that you don’t like coffee so I bought hot chocolate instead. As a thank you” she smiled weakly.

And with that she left Yunho behind, standing all by himself under the falling snow, and looking at the paper cup with disbelief. She had remembered.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ 　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

[fablesrose]

Tell Me a Story 1

Description: The local mafia has served Y/n well previously, but with the way things are going now, enough is enough. Instead of getting out, why not take everything down? So she makes a few calls, but things don’t always go to plan.

Word count: 2,205

Pairing: cop!Dean x mafia!reader

Square filled: fake dating

Warnings: none this chapter

Masterlist ~ Bingo Masterlist

Remaining parts will be in the Bingo Masterlist

A/n: This is for @girl-next-door-writes‘s Make Me Feel Bingo. I wanted to write a specific scene and then made a whole AU in order for this to work and it became infinitely more complicated than it needed to be. Enjoy! 

“Tell me a story.”

Chuck was a dangerous man. He didn’t look it, but he had an eye and a leash where you would never expect it all over the city. No one knew what he wanted, what his end goal was, maybe that was what made him dangerous.

Those words made me nervous. Chuck loved a good story and if the man next to me didn’t tell one up to his standard, then it wouldn’t end well for either of us.

This was all my idea. It was me who got the cops involved. I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Sam, I know you don’t want to hear from me, but-”

“What do you need?”

“The Fallen isn’t doing too hot right now.”

“I can help you get out Y-”

“It’s not as simple as when you slipped between the cracks Sam,” I hissed at him through the phone. I don’t know why I even tracked him down, he had a good life now, but I needed to do something.

“Simple? You know it wasn’t simple.” Sam sounded offended.

“Exactly. It wasn’t when you did it, and like Hell is it simple now. It’s a thousand times worse in every way since you left. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where to go.”

“Okay, fine, we’ll figure something out.”

“Thanks- Someone’s coming, don’t contact me in any way for at least four days. You know the drill.” I hung up the phone and went on my daily business.

Four days later I received a text with a phone number in it, “He’s clean. He’ll help.”

I saved the number in my phone and deleted the conversation. I had to tread lightly.

I tried to control my anxiety. If I was found out I wouldn’t be surprised if Chuck burned the whole city to the ground.

So needless to say I did a fantastic job of hiding my anxiety.

Eventually, when I was sure that I was alone I pulled up the number Sam gave me. I guess it was now or never.

The phone rang a couple of times before a man picked up and rattled off his law enforcement credentials and his name. Okay, maybe this guy could help me.

I took a deep breath and spoke out loud the sentence I had been practicing in my head for the last few days which was a risk in and of itself, “I’m a high ranking member of The Fallen and would like to be of assistance in taking down the current, highly wanted, leader of said… organization.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, “Pardon?”

I sighed, my anxiety creeping back in, but what came out was an annoyed clip, “I said I’d like to snitch on my boss, a highly wanted individual, now can you help me get rid of him, or did Sam lie to me?”

“You know Sam?”

“Well, no der.” I tried to calm my beating heart, but the more I thought about it, the more it seemed like a mistake, “I’m sorry for wasting your time, this was a mistake.”

“No no, wait.” I heard him swallow, “I’m going to talk to some people, let me see what I can do okay?”

My voice cracked, “Okay.”

The call ended, and all I could think was, Well there’s no backing out now.

Never before had I felt like I was in a dystopian novel more than this chapter of my life. I was nervous, like even the TVs were watching my every move to see if I was thinking traitorous thoughts, straight out of “1984.”

Every meeting, every glance in my direction, every moment of silence, and I swore everyone there already knew what I had done. But I kept a straight face in the serious moments, laughed when it was polite, and I wasn’t dead yet.

The day came when I met him in person. The safest place I could think of was my apartment. I paced back and forth for the whole afternoon constantly watching the clock, then it seemed like ten minutes after four it was six o’clock already. He was due to my doorstep any minute now.

A knock came to the door and I felt stone cold.

Slow steps took me to the sound. I opened the door a crack to see who it was. A tall man stood on the other side, in casual clothes thank goodness. He was casually looking around, but to the trained eye, I could tell he was watching to see if anyone was paying special attention.

“Yes?” Don’t give too much away, don’t volunteer any information. Yet.

He finally focused on me and I took into account the strong structure to his face, one could either call him intimidating or handsome, depending on his mood. Right now he was walking the line while leaning towards the former.

“I believe you’ve been expecting me,” he spoke quietly, his voice sounded very similar to the one I heard on the phone, but one could never be too careful.

“Oh? And what’s the connection between us?” I hoped my face was perfect innocence, but I knew my eyes were calculating and cautious.

“Sam.”

I closed the door to unlock the chain. I quickly let him in.

“I assume it’s safe here?” His eyes scanned the room, looking for anything that could be a problem.

I locked the door behind him, “As safe a place as any. I personally had soundproofing installed. Not many people come here, less chance for bugs. Neighbors are friendly, mostly elderly couples.”

“I was going to say, pretty small apartment for someone in the mob,” he extended a hand for me to shake, “Dean Winchester.”

I huffed, “Yeah, it’s kinda my job to blend in. Not all of us have Hollywood mansions. I glanced at him from the kitchen as I grabbed two glasses, “I see height runs in the family.”

“Somethin’ like that,” Dean sat on the couch in the living room.

I handed him a drink, “So...”

“So indeed,” he swirled the liquid in the glass before setting it on the side table, “I’m currently being transferred from the my current department a couple hours away to the local PD. Once that’s done I will be going under cover. You will be my in. Does that work?”

I drained my own drink, “Swimmingly.” I set my own glass on the floor by the feet of the chair I was sitting in, “I honestly can’t believe I’m doing this.” I spoke it mostly to myself, but he heard it all the same.

“Yeah, why are you doing this? What made you join in the first place only to try and tear it all down?”

I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the chair. I guess I should have seen the question coming. “I joined The Fallen when I was a lot younger. Why does anyone join the mafia?”

“Protection, a safe place to do illegal things, they’re desperate?”

I chuckled, “And usually somewhere to belong, but yeah, you hit the nail on the head. I was desperate. Nowhere to go. And let’s leave it at that.” I started cleaning my fingernails, my hands needing something to do. “It was a classic mafia back then. Don’t mess with us, we don’t mess with you. If you do, you better watch your back. It was okay. It was safe. That was under this guy named Nick. He’s in prison now, but you probably knew that already.”

Dean nodded his head.

“In the power vacuum he left behind, I helped get your brother out. Covered his tracks, but there wasn’t anyone to follow them. Sounds like he’s got a nice life now.”

“Why didn’t you get out with him?”

“Still didn’t have anywhere to go. Sam, he’s smart. Got back into school, had a nice girl waiting for him on the other side. I didn’t have any of that.  The Fallen was all I had, figured this was better than being on the run from myself.” I sighed, “Anyway, Crowley comes in. He’s a businessman at heart. He  made the community safer. Kept local businesses afloat. It felt like we were doing something good.”

I smiled to myself. Happier times.

“I guess I got soft.” I looked up from my hands into his serious face, “Now Chuck has the whole city wrapped around his twisted finger. No one knows what he wants. He’s got no honor system-”

Dean scoffed.

“Hey, it might not have been much, but Crowley and Nick? They had their own code that if you knew what it was, then nothing surprised you. Chuck’s a wild card. He’s destroying everything good about this place, and like it or not, I don’t. And if I can do something about it, I’m going to. Okay?”

Dean set his jaw and nodded.

“So how do you wanna play this mister hot shot cop?”

“That’s a good question, one that you are gonna answer.”

I raised my eyebrows, “Oh?”

He shifted to a more relaxed position on the couch, “Yup. You’re the expert, so how are you gonna bring me in? I’ve got to observe, gather information and evidence, and hopefully set him up so we can catch him in the act of doing something ‘life in prison’ worthy.”

“Can we get a death sentence?”

Dean slowly gained a more guarded posture, “And why would you want that?” As Dean relaxed he seemed more personable, but with that one statement he looked suspicious of me and my motives. His eyes gained that hard look that could break steel and I was terrified to see him angry.

I curled in on myself, “Past experience.”

“I’m gonna need to know this kind of stuff sweetheart.”

“Look, we both know life in prison isn’t a guarantee. Nick was supposed to get a life sentence, but he got out. Now Crowley’s dead and Chuck is in power.” There was a pause where neither of us spoke. “There’s always something. You’re in law enforcement. You should know that.”

He sighed before nodding once again, “Fine, we’ll see what we can do and what we can get, okay?”

“Okay.”

“How are you going to get me in?”

I rubbed my temples. How was I going to get him in? “I think our best option is for me to just bring you in as a new recruit. No deals, tell him the least information possible. Whoever brings someone new in becomes their mentor so that’ll work out...” This was going to be hard. Chuck was a difficult target. “We’ll say you’re new in town. You desperately need some extra cash, so you’re willing to join. You don’t really care what you have to do. The trick is to lie the least amount as possible. Chuck doesn’t like liars, and he can always find out information. So I hope there aren’t many people who know you’re doing this.” I locked eyes with him.

“No, not many at all.”

“I hope you’re right, or we’re both dead.”

This conversation ran through my head as we stood in front of Chuck. It was the monthly meeting, where everything you could think of was discussed, including new members.

“So, there’s a new face.” Chuck was looking at the pair of us, a passive invitation.

I stepped forward with as much confidence as I could muster, “Yes, this is new recruit-”

“Officer Dean Winchester, yes I know.”

I nearly choked as my eyes widened in fear and surprise. I glanced at Dean and all I could think was, “We’re dead.”

“Now the question is, why does the new cop in town want to join the local mob?” Chuck stood from his chair and walked around, “Little short on cash, need a little excitement?”

Dean chuckled, but I could tell he was hiding his nervousness, “Yeah, something like that.”

“Good, what’s one more cop on the payroll? You’re in.” Chuck finally looked back at the two of us, and my heart was still pounding out of my chest despite how impossibly well this was going, “Oh, you didn’t know he was a cop did you? Looks like some couples therapy material.”

I swallowed, but couldn’t hide my confusion, couples therapy?

“Oh come on! It’s obvious!” Chuck hesitated, “Well maybe not obvious, but Y/n’s not the hook-up type.”

I blushed, this was getting out of hand, but as long as Chuck wasn’t going to kill me, I would put up with it the best I could.

Chuck clapped and rubbed his hands together, “Oh I love a good romance. So how did you guys meet?”

Dean seemed to snap into it, or maybe it was me who was out of it, I’m not sure, but Dean grabbed my hand and intertwined our fingers.

“I don’t know, sir, I’m not much of a story teller.”

“Come on Dean.” Chuck smiled, a little too eagerly.

I tightened my grip on Dean’s hand, mostly out of anxiousness. I was out of options and stocked up on fear. It was up to him to get us the hell out of here.

“Tell me a story.”

Best Buds Taglist: @kitkatd7 @snarky--starky @confetti-its-an-imagine-blog @kaogasm

Dean: @akshi8278 @msmarvelouswinchester

[tonio-dawson]

A crossroad

Antonio x Halstead!Reader

Word count: 1,783

Summary: AU where Antonio stays in the unit until season 7 (because I don’t like how he got written out :)). He found himself at a crossroad where he thinks he isn’t the right fit for the team anymore. Reader is Jay’s sister working as a Detective at another precinct.

Antonio walked up to your place, you could hear his footsteps even before his keys reached your apartment door. “It’s not lock-” you screamed from your kitchen but he already made his way inside. He took off his boots and his jacket, and made his way to the fridge and pulled out a beer.

You looked at him, he hadn’t said a word but he glanced at you finally recognizing your presence. “Sorry babe, thought you’re still at work,” he said while taking a swig leaning back to the fridge. His jaw clenched, his eyes were filled with fire, as if he’s ready for a fight.

“Woah, I’d say welcome home, but what happened? Rough day?” You turned to him, spatula on your hand. “Something like that,” he sighed.

“Wanna talk about it over this Arroz con Pollo once it’s ready?” You asked softly.

“I guess,” he gulped his beer this time.

“And maybe give your girlfriend a kiss before you go shower and change?” you walked toward him this time, pursing a smile.

His gazed softened as he reached his arms out to you and pulled you into a hug, “I’m sorry. It’s been really tough at the office today. And we’ve promised each other not to let work gets in between us.” he mumbled on your shoulder. You can feel that something is weighing on him.

“And you did not. Not yet anyway.” you pulled away and kissed his cheek, “Now go shower and we can have dinner,” he nodded and made his way to the bathroom.

Antonio was much calmer after his shower, much more after he filled his stomach with food, “This is soooo good, almost as good as mine.” he smiled. Usually you’d throw a napkin or anything within proximity at him but knowing he had a rough day you just chuckled, “If that’s your way to say ‘thank you my beautiful girlfriend, food is delicious’ I say you’re welcome,” you smiled.

“Of course I meant thank you, ‘almost as good’ is the highest of compliment,” said Antonio while finishing his plate. His expression changed to a tired face as he let out a sigh, “You don’t know how much I need this after today,”

“What happened? Ruzek picked a fight with you again?” You asked.

“Hmm.. yeah, he was on my list of problems today. But…” He trailed off and left his word hanging.

“But what? I’m sorry, it must have been a very hard day.” you looked deeply into him.

“Yeah, I don’t know if this is right… but I’m thinking to quit Intelligence.” he was hesitant at the beginning however his raspy voice was loud and clear when he mentioned about quitting.

You’re at loss for words, trying to control your expression. You didn’t even know whether to stop him from doing it or to support his thinking.

“I…are you, are you sure?” You stuttered.

Antonio sighed even longer this time, “That’s the thing, I’m not sure.” He grabbed another beer from the fridge and took a seat on the couch after clearing up the table.

You’re still sitting at the dining table, frozen, running different words to say to him.

“Babe?” He glanced at you.

You snapped back to reality and made your way to the couch, sitting next to him. “I’m sorry. I’m at loss for words. Don’t know what to say.” you said honestly, “I thought you love working at Intelligence,” you gazed softly at him.

“Yeah, I do. I like working the case. Our cases are always the toughest one, we put away the evil of evil and make the city safer. That’s what I love about being part of the team.” Antonio explained, you sensed a but coming.

“But…you know how Voight and the unit works. It’s not always conventional,” he continued.

“Yes, but you already know that.” you replied and he nodded at your sentence, “Most of the time it worked to our benefit. But lately, every one is trying to be like Voight, you know? Using any means necessary to solve a case. Maybe, except your brother. But Jay’s also has his way of letting things happen. And I can’t. I can’t do it. Not anymore.” he shook his head.

Antonio went on explaining how the last few years went down for him and the team. How they dealt with Al’s murderer - how Ruzek blamed him over not standing up for Voight though it wasn’t the case, how Voight handled Lopez, how Burgess let Q brought a gun to a sting and ended up killing the target, how Upton took care of Vanessa’s mess by planting evidence, the list goes on. And Antonio always got caught in the middle not wanting to condone their actions though not condemning either. But because of that, he was seen as the enemy of the team.

Beyond from short stories that Jay and Antonio shared with you, you didn’t actually know about how the Intelligence team works. As Jay’s sister and Antonio’s girlfriend you have good relationships with the team outside of work. You’ve known them to be good people and solid cops. But getting all of this new information, you can only feel for your boyfriend. You know that Antonio is the boy scout cop who does everything by the book. So these questionable methods that the team uses really challenge his ethics.

“I don’t care how Voight runs his shop. He brought me in to the team knowing already how I handle cases, and we always know how to work with each other despite our differences. But the rest of the team? I’m not sure anymore. These young folks think that Voight’s way is the only way forward. That doesn’t sit right by me.” he complained.

After Jules death, Lindsay’s departure, and Al’s gone, you suspected that Antonio’s feelings towards the team has changed. Team dynamic and roles have shifted and you’re not sure where Antonio sees himself within the team, and how the team positions Antonio. 

Your suspicion only grew stronger after he told you what happened today.

A patrol officer got killed under Intelligence assignment to do a search at a suspected drug dealer’s home. But it was the wrong house, the officer came in hot and drew his gun already when coming inside. Much to everyone’s surprise, they only found a couple who are eating their lunch. Things got real bad, real quick when the husband - an ex-marine - panicked seeing a gun pointed at his direction and pulled his gun from under the table. In a matter of seconds, multiple shots were fired. The first officer died at the scene, the ex-marine is clinging to life at Med, the wife and the officer’s partner got several GSWs albeit not lethal.

The problem? They didn’t have a search warrant. It was an intel from a CI, a real bad one. Ruzek rushed it because a suspected drug dealer has been threatening Michele Sovana, Al’s only remaining daughter. With Ruzek now being questioned by Internal Affairs, the team turned to Antonio to pull in favor from ASA Peter Stone to issue a back dated search warrant to get Ruzek out of trouble.

“I think Jay’s against this. A fellow soldier got shot over a bad police misconduct? But he didn’t say a word.” Antonio’s eyes were filled with concerns, “The thing is, not only the warrant didn’t come through, but an officer shouldn’t draw their gun to a civilian unless necessary.” he sighed and remembered his almost altercation with Ruzek earlier today.

“They thought they’re walking to a lion’s den for fuck’s sake!” Ruzek yelled at him, “Well they weren’t, were they? Now you got two civilians injured; one of them served to protect the country!” Antonio yelled back.

“You always do this, man. A brother is killed and you’re worried about some political correctness? He worked patrol for 10 years, sacrificed HIS LIFE and one simple mistake you wanted to strip from his honor?”

“YES! Because that’s what we do! We sacrifice our lives as cops! Not only him. And because we’re the police we should be held to a standard. All the fucking time. You think you can knock on someone’s door and starts shooting?!” Antonio was boiling, in fact he was so close to hit Ruzek, but Voight broke them off and told people to go home and pick it up tomorrow.

“So, what are you going to do?” you asked.

“I figured I’d do what they say one last time and maybe…hand in my transfer letter the next day.” He replied.

“Wanna transfer to my unit?” you asked cheekily.

He laughed, “Only if I got to boss you around,” as he snuggled to you.

“Not gonna happen!” you threw a light punch.

“I honestly don’t know, you think transferring out is a bad move?” he asked.

“Well, I think working for Voight in the first place was a bad move. Same thing I said to Jay,” you scoffed, “But who knew you guys could go this far and rose to be a unit with the highest solving rate in the department. Whether or not you enjoy it, that’s for you to say.” you smiled this time.

“Hmm…” he hugged you closer and placed his head on top of yours.

“But whatever you decide, I’m behind you. One thing I know is that you’re a damn good cop don’t matter in which unit you work at,” you continued with a proud girlfriend tone.

“Thanks for always having my back. I love you,” He cupped your face and kissed you long and deep, “I love you too,” you replied as you pulled away. He leaned in closer for another kiss, more heated this time. His touch was more intense and you let out a soft moan. His hands traveled inside your shirt as he nipped at your neck. You both were all cozy until his phone rang. You both stopped and looked at the caller ID, “Your brother’s timing is impeccable. You sure he didn’t put a nanny cam around here?” he raised his eyebrows.

“Ugh. You have to answer him?” you asked.

“Actually I do. So tomorrow I don’t have to explain myself why I missed his calls. I’ll be quick,” Antonio replied and got up to answer the phone. He stepped outside to your balcony while you turn on the TV.

After three minutes or so, he stepped back in with a much brighter face. “Why are you so happy?” you asked. Whatever it was that Jay said on the phone has put Antonio at ease.

“I know I’m sure about one thing. That I always can count on a Halstead.” he smiled, pulled you in and continued where he left off.

[rmtndew]

All I’ve Ever Known

Summary: Fiona’s life is a shattered fraction of what it used to be. She’s trying to navigate her new normal when she meets Detective Marshall, who gives her something more to look forward to.

Pairing: Marshall and OFC.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Mentions of death, cancer.

A/N - This was intended as a short drabble but it got out of hand and became a multi-chapter story instead. It’s my first Marshall fic and the first fan fic that I’ve written in over a decade. The title comes from the song ‘All I’ve Ever Known’ from Hadestown: ‘I was alone so long, I didn’t even know that I was lonely. Out in the cold so long, I didn’t even know that I was cold. Turned my collar to the wind, this is how it’s always been. All I’ve ever known is how to hold my own, but now I want to hold you, too.’

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

The first Wednesday in October was the first day that truly felt like fall had arrived. There was a chill in the air that morning and the fallen leaves had taken on a lovely earthy smell after the rain from the night before had blown them off the trees and pummeled them to the ground. I made a mental note to ask one of the neighbor boys to clean the leaves off the driveway and stone path through the yard so Mom didn’t accidentally slip on them. She’d been so cooped up that summer, I didn’t want anything to be in her way of finally getting to enjoy the weather.

The drive to work was quiet and lovely. The sun warmed my car and when I reached the catering shop where I worked, I sat there for a few minutes, drinking my coffee and soaking up the feeling on my skin. I always got to work early so that I could have those few peaceful moments before the chaos of the day started.

Once inside the shop, I started working with my boss Darcy on filling the boxes for the day's orders. We had two major deliveries that day - a work conference at a hotel, and a training seminar being held in the public library late that afternoon. Other than that, we had our standing order for the homicide unit of the police department. At the beginning of the year, a man had been murdered and according to the news that covered it, there was next to no evidence and the case was sure to go cold. But a couple of the detectives wouldn’t let go and against the odds, they found the murderer and got a full confession out of him. The victim’s wife had been so grateful that she decided to have an ongoing order every Wednesday to buy lunch for the detectives who’d solved the murder, as well as their colleagues. She had received quite a bit of money after her husband’s death and decided to use some of it to pay them back in a small way. That order was always mine. It was fairly small and I could carry it in my car. The detectives were always polite but never tried to make small talk, which I enjoyed. The chatty orders went to Darcy’s nephew Nick, who could hold a conversation with a brick wall and enjoy it. 

Once the boxes for the detectives were filled and loaded into my car, I drove down to the station. I took the dolly from my trunk and strapped down the two insulated containers that had the boxed lunches packed in them. The wind whipped around me as I worked, blowing my hair in my eyes. I pushed it away and held it back with my free hand as I wheeled the food behind me. When I got into the building, an officer went through the containers, as always, to make sure I wasn’t bringing in any weapons, or whatever. The first few times he checked them, I was nervous that he’d find something, knowing full well that there was absolutely nothing illegal in them. Then, once I got to know him a bit, I had considered bringing him a cookie from the shop since I saw him every week, but then the irrational fear that he would think I was trying to bribe him to overlook the non-existent illegal materials I wasn’t trying to smuggle in took over. So, like with everything else in my life, I pushed away any urge, no matter how small, to socially interact with anyone longer than absolutely necessary. That’s why, after delivering there for several weeks, I knew he was Officer Bates (he wore a badge) and I was just ‘Waverly’, as in Waverly Box Catering, my company's name. 

Once Officer Bates checked to make sure everything in my containers was safe, he walked me to the elevator and hit the button for me. Thankfully the elevator was empty so that I wasn’t forced to make small talk with the officers or detectives outside of the homicide unit that always questioned why none of the other units got free lunches. The first few times I’d been asked it was awkward, all the other times after those were both awkward and annoying. 

When I reached the homicide unit floor, I made my way to their break room, where some of the detectives were waiting for me. I started unpacking the boxed lunches, placing them on the table, making sure that the names were clearly visible. As I placed the empty insulated containers back on my dolly, my phone rang. Normally I didn’t take calls on the job, but it was from Mom’s doctor’s office. 

I left the break room and found a quiet hall to answer the phone. It was a nurse called Karen confirming Mom’s appointment the following week. We’d made sure to write it on the calendar to remember it, but I thanked her for the reminder anyway and told her that we’d see her next Wednesday. After hanging up, I went back to the break room to collect my equipment. I was surprised to find that every single box had been claimed but one. I glanced at the name: Detective Marshall. Normally I didn’t keep track of who ordered what after the boxes had been filled and labeled, but I knew Detective Marshall’s order by heart. While every other detective switched their orders up, trying different things on the menu, Detective Marshall’s had remained the same every week. A cuban sandwich - whole, plain chips, and a peanut butter cookie. There were times when I’d be doing mindless tasks - washing the dishes, brushing my teeth, filling Mom’s pill box - when their order would randomly play through my mind, like some strange mantra. It was an odd thing to find calming but it reminded me of one of the exercises my therapist had me do as a teenager when my anxiety attacks would get bad. She had me multiply numbers, or mentally list every detail of my bedroom that I could think of, or recite the alphabet backwards. It was simple, mundane, ground exercises and without ever knowing me, Detective Marshall had become my adult version. 

I was about to leave when a uniformed officer came in. He went to the coffee pot but kept eyeing the box. It was nothing to me, really, if he took it. Detective Marshall could probably handle themselves against a lunch thief, but my gut wouldn’t let me let it go. So instead of leaving, I decided to take the box and hand deliver it.

I left my dolly behind and made my way back down the hall where I’d taken my call earlier. I’d noticed several detectives had private offices there and assumed their office would be there, too. I was right. I found Lieutenant Detective Marshall’s name engraved in a gold name plate mounted on a closed door. I took a deep breath before giving a hard and loud but short knock. 

“Yeah,” a man’s voice called out. 

He didn’t say anything else but I took it as an invitation to open the door. When I did, I was met with my first sight of Detective Marshall: A tall man with a short beard and a head of messy brown curls. He was wearing a forest green sweater, the sleeves pushed up to show his forearms. A gun and badge were clipped to the side of his jeans that hugged his muscular thighs. He was holding a folder, looking at it intently. After a moment, he looked up at me. He must have expected it to be someone he worked with because his expression went from neutral to confused in less than a second. He tilted his head, a crease appearing between his eyes - his beautiful blue eyes - as his brow furrowed. 

“Can I help you?”  

“I, um…” I swallowed hard. “I’m from Waverly Catering. I brought you your lunch,” I said, frozen on the spot at the entrance to his office. 

He looked more confused. “Don’t you usually leave them in the break room?” he asked. He sounded like he had a British accent.  

“Yes. And I did. But you didn’t come to get it. I was about to leave and it was the only one left and an officer came in, eyeing it, I was afraid that they would take it.” I suddenly felt my face get hot as this handsome man stared at me while I mumbled out some weird explanation for why I was interrupting his work. “Sorry,” I said, holding out the box. “Here.”

The slightest hint of a smile tugged at one corner of his mouth as he walked towards me. “Thank you.” He took the box from my outstretched hand, his fingers lightly brushing mine as he did. I was sure it was an accident and yet it instantly made my pulse race. “I appreciate it.” 

“You’re welcome,” I said, then turned to get out of there before I could embarrass myself further. 

“Do you make the cookies?”

I stopped and looked back at him. “What?”

He held up his box. “Are you the one who makes the cookies in here or do you just deliver?” 

“Oh. Yeah, I make them most of the time.”

He gave me a short lived, closed lip smile. “They’re very good.” 

My brain reacted as if I’d never heard a more flattering compliment in my life and I had to physically restrain myself from giggling. “Thank you,” I managed to say without betraying my giggling brain. “Have a good day.”

I left his office feeling like a teenage girl who’d just said something embarrassing in front of her crush and I couldn’t figure out why. The feeling lasted until I was back in my car. 

“Come on, Fiona, you’re a grown woman,” I whispered to myself, massaging my temples. “Don’t do this. Don’t do this.”

The last thing I needed on top of all of my responsibilities and already emotionally complicated current life situation was an unnecessary crush on a man just because he had pretty eyes and liked my cookies. But good heavens his eyes were pretty.

    _____________________________________

When I got home that afternoon, I found Mom in the living room. She was watching a cooking show. I went and gave her a kiss on the top of her head. Her hair was growing back just enough to feel like soft baby hair. I jokingly called it her duck feathers.

“How was your day, sweetie?” she asked.

I sat on the arm of the couch, facing her in the big recliner that swallowed her up. “It was good. Not too busy. I had my delivery to the police station again,” I said, letting myself grin. “I met one of the detectives, too. He was very handsome.” 

She looked at me, her cheeks a pretty pink color. It was such a wonderful sight after months of her being pale and gray. “Oh! What does he look like?” 

“He looks...manly,” I said. She laughed. “He was taller than me, which is always rare and attractive, and he has curly hair, and a beard, which I’m not usually attracted to but it really worked for him.” I sighed. “And his eyes. They were such a lovely blue.”

“Is he single?”

I shrugged and laughed. “I don’t know. I didn’t check for a ring. It wasn’t really that type of interaction,” I said. “I was just giving him his lunch and was surprised by how gorgeous he was.” I stood up. “Oh, and I think he’s English. He sounded like it anyway.”

“Honey, look for a ring next week!” 

“I won’t deliver next week, Nick will. You’ve got your appointment with Dr. Turner,” I reminded her. “I’m going to start dinner. Do you want anything special?”

She pointed at the TV. “They’re making chicken carbonara, it looks awfully tempting.”

I smiled. “I think I might be able to rustle some up for you. I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

“Thank you, Fi.”

[dalamjisung]

read my mind ✿ park jinyoung

word count:6973

genre: hospital!au, fluff

pairing: psychiatrist!jinyoung x resident!reader

description: you work as a barista at night and as a psychiatry resident during the day, what happens when those two lives start to mix?

Fridays are the busiest nights; and consequently, the worst nights. Working at a bar isn’t exactly what you want to do for the rest of your life, but it pays the bills and the tips are too good to just give up on– medical school isn’t cheap, and neither are the loan interests you will have to pay for the next twenty years of your life. You didn’t have time to complain about your job; you had to do it and that’s it.

“Hey!” Someone scream as you continue to gather used cups from the counter. “Another double!”

“Coming right up!” You shout, looking at the older man waving his empty cup. “Be right there.”

“Thank you,” He smiles as you pour his drink, and your skin crawls. With the job came the instinctive reaction to sleazy man, the one that makes the hair on your arm stand, signaling the danger and discomfort to come. “Now, what is a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?”

“Working,” You offer him a smile, knowing it will give you points for a good tip. “Excuse me.”

In a bar, there are many different types of people. Desperate people, sad people, happy people, anxious people; it seems that once an emotion overrides all the others, the bar is the place people go to. A bar is a place for celebration, for laughter and good memories; but it can also be a place for misery, for crying and forgetting. It was only a matter of time until you learned how to read people– their desires, their thoughts, their next moves,– eyes intent on the clients, honing the ability to the point that a person didn’t even have to say anything, you just know what they want. Just like how you know this man only wants to flirt, looking for a boost to his ego from a young woman. He wants to feel empowered by all the wrong reasons and you smirk, amused by his antics. However, men like this one don’t easily let go, offended by the realization that you actually have to work and don’t have time for them; therefore, they resort to physical strength.

“Stay for a little bit,” He murmurs in your ear, brining you close by grasping your arm. “I could use the company.”

“Sir, I have other clients to tend to,” The smile on your face contrasts the harsh tone of your voice. “So if you could let me go, that would be great.”

And just like that, you lost your tips. 

“Don’t be like that,” He tries again, and in his eyes you see the look you hate the most: anger. “I’m being nice, here.”

This is usually the time you call your manager with a very smooth and secure shout of his name, but it seems like today is your lucky day and someone wants more tequila shots. 

“I have to go,” You pull your arm but he doesn’t bulge. “Sir, please, I have to do my job–��

“Can you let her go, already?” A man, sitting to the right of your current situation speaks, loud and clear, sounding as fed up as you. “Even I heard her, man… she has shit to do.”

“Mind your own business,” The guy holding your arms spits and you chuckle humorlessly, taking a chance with the sudden distraction and successfully pulling your arm from his grabby hands. You know that it will leave a bruise but you couldn’t care less. 

“Now I will,” Your helper rolls his eyes and looks at you. His hand instinctively move to his empty cup and you are on it before he even opens his mouth, pouring whiskey enough to last him a while. His eyes are wide in surprise and he even cracks a small smile. “You didn’t have to, I was just–“

“You wanted more, so I gave you more,” You shrug, going back to your work. 

“How’d you know?” He asks, cynical of you. “You read my mind or something?”

“Call it an educated guess,” You say, and keep moving, knowing that if you stop, tiredness will wash over you like a tsunami. “I’ll add it to your tab.”

The night ends seamlessly; nothing much happening after that one incident. It’s when you’re cleaning the counter alongside Jisung, your coworker, that it hits you. You never thanked him for his help. But then again, you think, I never asked for it. 

“Y/N,” Jisung calls from where he is putting the cups away. “I think this is for you.”

“Throw it away,” You say not even looking at it. “I’m not interested.”

“Tsk, still trying to die alone?” Jisung laughs, and you laugh with him, knowing that he means well. “You are too beautiful to be alone, Y/N.”

“And you are too beautiful for that boyfriend of yours, but I don’t see you two breaking up anytime soon,” You tease, poking him on your way to the back. “Is he coming to get you?”

“Yeah,” Jisung shouts. “Want a ride?”

“Please,” You answer, relieved that you won’t have to wait for the bus. “I have a big day tomorrow.”

“Nervous?” Jisung asks when you meet him outside, the smoke of the cigarette coming out of his mouth in a swift puff. “Changing hospitals in the end of residency is always hard…”

“I’ll be fine,” You smile tightly. “I had to leave, and you know that…”

“But people don’t,” Jisung looks at you carefully. “I’m just worried about you.”

“It’s going to be okay,” You promise as his boyfriend’s car pulls up. “I’m going to a better hospital with a better paycheck; I’m as good as it gets.”

“Aish, do you only think about money?” He chastises you, frowning. 

“Yes,” You smile cheekily, and his boyfriend laughs. “Until I pay all of my loans, money is the only thing I’ll think about.”

“This girl…” Jisung mumbles, moving to grab Chaewon’s hand. You look at them fondly, knowing that no matter how many times you tell these two that you are fine by yourself and that you don’t want to waste time and energy on a relationship, the truth finds you and, from time to time, you catch yourself wondering how good it would be if you had someone to pick you up from work, too. 

                                                                      ————————

“Hello, I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” You bow with a wide smile, trying to hide the nervousness that comes with a situation like this. “I’m a fourth year resident, nice to meet you all.”

“Fourth year?” Someone whispers and you pretend you don’t hear them. “Isn’t that a bit late to be switching hospitals?”

“It’s good to have you, Dr. Y/N,” One of the nurses step forward, shaking your hand. “We are happy you’re here. I’m Jimin, or Nurse Park, whichever you prefer.”

“Yeah,” A girl steps forward. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Wheein.”

“Hi,” You wave shyly, glad that at least someone is talking to you. “Are you also a fourth year?”

She nods. “Yeah, but I’m with the Pediatrics department.”

“Ah, that sounds like fun,” You chuckle and she laughs with you. “I’m Psychiatry.”

After you say that, it feels like the words could echo in the silent room. 

“W-What? Did I say something wrong?” You whisper with wide eyes, looking at your new friends. Jimin shakes his head and scoffs at his peers.

“Not at all,” He rolls his eyes. “The doctors are just being stupid.”

“It’s just shocking to see such a cheerful person like you working in such a sad place,” One of the doctors says, laughing as his friends nod. “It’s a hard job, but someone has to do it, isn’t that right?”

“Well, of course, Dr… Ahn,” You squint at his jacket, carefully reading his name. “Let me guess; surgeon?”

“Oh!” He exclaims, eyebrows going high. “How’d you know?”

“The hands,” You smile, pointing at his hands. “You’re holding your cup in a way that your hand won’t get burned with the hot coffee…”

“Wow,” He elbows his friend. “Consider me impressed.”

“What makes the Psychiatry ward so sad, Doctor?” 

Your smile is gone, voice cold and cutting. Anyone could see your change in demeanor; eyes suddenly sharp, chest puffed, and chin high. 

“Well, the–“

“Careful there Doctor,” You whisper close to him. “If you say ‘people,’ what will your colleagues think?”

He clears his throat, looking angry and confused. “It’s not–“

“Because if I can recall,” You interrupt him once again, going back to your smiley self. “The surgery room isn’t all that happy, with all the people desperately hanging onto their lives, trusting people like… you.”

“I don’t–“

“Don’t look down on people that can’t be fixed with surgery,” You breath, bowing to him. “I only ask that of you.”

You hear a mumble with some work you dare not to repeat and leave, a stampede of feet following him suit. 

“That,” Wheein point at the leaving hoard of white jackets. “Was fucking cool.”

“I’m not a fan of people like him,” You say, suddenly blushing. 

“And neither is our boss,” Jimin says throwing his arms around your shoulder. “Wait until you meet him.”

And you meet him. Around two hours later, after you are done with rounds and new patients’ admissions. When you see him, however, your heart stops, because that man does not look happy. 

“Who are you?” He asks, not even looking up from his clipboard. 

“I’m your new resident,” You bow. “Y/N Y/L/N.” “What year?”

“Fourth,” You say, feeling embarrassed for the first time.

“Fourth?” And he finally looks up. You don’t think he recognizes you, and you are not dumb enough to ask, choosing to nod instead. “Why?”

“Because I went through the first three already?” You try to joke but it clearly doesn’t work. “Sorry, bad joke. I just thought a change would be… good.”

“Good?” He frowns and his eyes scan you. “Did you get in trouble in the last hospital?” 

You freeze. 

“No,” You shake your head, looking down at your feet. As long as he didn’t recognize you, you’d be okay. 

“If you are lying, I have ways to find out,” He says, and although his voice is soft, his words are harsh. 

“Then please do,” When you finally gather the courage to look at his piercing eyes, you notice how they don’t look as intimidating as his attitude. They are understanding, and you are confused. “I’m here to do my best, Dr. Park.”

“That’s all I ask, then,” He nods. “Have you done rounds?”

“Yes, Doctor,” And you are back in your comfort zone, doing what you do best. Taking care of people that need you. “I also admitted two new patients and they are waiting for your assessment.”

“How long until you are a fellow?” He suddenly asks, reading the information in the chart. His eyes are quick and he scans everything with such precision that leaves you amazed. 

“Three more months, Doctor,” You know this won’t help your case, but you also know you can’t lie to your boss. 

“Hm,” He hums, and gives you the okay on the documents. “You’ve done a better job on these two files than most my fellows do. Keep it going.”

You blink, suddenly whiplashed. Was that a compliment?

“I give credit when credit’s due, Dr. Y/N,” He sighs, chuckling a little and you feel your whole body melt under that voice. “Don’t look so surprised.”

“Yes, Doctor, thank you,” You are quick on your feet and back with Jimin, discussing procedures.

“Ah,” Dr. Park calls again. “Y/N?”

Your body tenses, and you think, shit, he recognized me. This is it. He can fire me if he wants and–

“Those two patients you admitted,” He continues, hand on his pockets, looking so flawlessly cool.

“What about them?” You ask, suspicious of his easy going attitude.

“They are yours.”

And he leaves. 

“Did he jus–“

“Oh wow,” Jimin’s eyes are wide, hands suddenly forgetting what they were doing. “Congrats, Y/N.”

“Is this normal?” You sigh. “He’s giving me more headaches than I’ve ever had in my life, and we talked for literally fifteen minutes.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jimin laughs. “That’s Doctor Park Jinyoung. He loves his job and he is not really easy on people, but once you get on his good side, it’s all good.”

“Are you on his good side?” You ask, jokingly poking him in the waist.

“Most definitely,” Jimin says. “He told me once I was the nurse he trusted the most… it makes me sad that he actually has to trust people to do his job. We are medical practitioners, you know.”

“Has any incident happened before?” You frown.

“Yeah,” His voice sounds strained and tired. “One time he caught a nurse referring to patients as “crazy” and he fired her on the spot. Two residents and a fellow committed the same mistake… don’t misunderstand this, they were good doctors, but Dr. Park Jinyoung doesn’t put up with people that invalidates or disrespect the patients.”

“I wouldn’t either…” You whisper, eyes finding the tall man in the hallway, talking with a wondering patient. She is old and looks lost, but he smiles– the most wonderful and peaceful smile,– and guides her back to her room. When he laughs, his cheeks puff and you can’t help but breath out in relief. Maybe this won’t be so bad, after all.

                                                                     ————————

“Sorry I’m late!” You call out from the back, already putting on your apron and moving to the front of the bar. “Things got a little hectic in the hospital.”

“Everything alright?” Jisung asks, and his eyes take you in; tired, messy, but overall happy. 

“All good,” You smile. “I got it over here. Thanks for covering for me.”

“No problem,” He offers you a pat on the back and goes back inside. “Shout if you need anything.”

You just nod, already pouring a few regulars their orders. Cranberry vodka, Long Island Ice Tea, Tequila and lime. Whiskey. 

“I knew it was you.”

You look up, and to your surprise, it’s Doctor Ahn. His tie is a little loose and he looks drunk enough to make a dumb mistake. 

“Ms. Smart Mouth,” He laughs humorlessly. “Guess you’re not all that high and mighty now, are you?”

“How can I help you, Sir?” You smile, going over the basic script. 

“Oh, gonna pretend you don’t know me?” He snarls and leans forward, almost tipping his drink over. “Do you know how much trouble you got me in with Dr. Park Jinyoung?”

Dr. Park?, you think, but say nothing, maintaining your ground even if all of your body was screaming to run away. 

“He heard about our interaction,” Dr. Ahn grabs the front of your t-shirt and you sigh, knowing that Jisung would show up anytime now. “And threatened to take me to the board. On what ground? Huh? You tell me, since you’re so smart, Dr. Y/N, on what grounds that motherfucker can take me to the board of the hospital?”

“Disrespectful behavior, prejudice against the ill, and now, to top it all, harassment of a coworker.”

Jinyoung stood behind Dr. Ahn, arms crossed over his chest, and eyes shinning a weird glint– something like rage working inside him. 

“Let go of my resident, Hanseok,” Jinyoung mumbles, and the sheer power of his words are enough to make himself heard over the loud music. “Or I’ll make sure those hands can never operate again.”

You are free just in time to hold Jisung back, putting your arm in front of his chest. He looks at you and you just shake your head, asking him to leave it. 

“Doctors,” You call out, trained smile on your face and voice chirpy. “Why don’t we just all take a breather and have a drink? On the house.”

“Wha–“ Dr. Ahn starts to say something but Dr. Park passes by, hitting him with his shoulder, and sits on a stool. 

“Whiskey, please,” He says, and this is more like the man you’ve met. Voice calm and soft, even offering you a small smile. 

“Coming right up!” To say you’re relieved is an understatement. You weren’t looking for trouble, specially with your superiors. 

“Can you guess if I want ice or not?” Dr. Park chuckles and looks at you, and something changes. His eyes, the glint you saw before is gone, and there’s a new light in them, something more relaxed and oh so endearing. 

You offer him a smile. “That goes beyond my abilities, Dr. Pa–“

“Jinyoung,” He clarifies, blushing a little. “We’re outside of the hospital, so just call me Jinyoung, will you?”

“Sure thing, Jinyoung,” You giggle, continuing to clean the cups. “Anything you need, let me know. It’s on the house.”

“This is all wrong,” He says, looking bothered. “I should be the one buying you drinks.”

“W-why?” You stutter. 

“As your sunbae, I should be the one buying my residents drinks,” He smiles and there they are, the cheeks. You control the urge to pinch them and smile. 

“I’ll take you up on that some other time, sunbae,” You laugh, already moving to fill up someone else’s cup. “I have work to do.”

“What time does your shift end?”

“Late,” You sigh, tired just from thinking about it. “But don’t worry! I’ll be at the hospital on time and ready for work!”

“That’s not what I was worried about,” He says, downing his drink and gets up. “But that’s good to hear. Have a goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Jinyoung.” 

                                                                     ————————

“Dr. Y/N,” Someone calls. “Patient on room two needs you!”

“Dr. Y/N, there are two emergency patients waiting!”

“Dr. Y/N, they are asking for your help in the Neuropsychology department!”

“Dr. Y/N–“

“Oh my god,” You groan, struggling to maintain your false composure; it’s now been two months since you first started at the hospital and you still wondered where were the other doctors. “Where are the other residents?”

“Dr. Yoon is having breakfast with a few fellows and Dr. Han is late,” Jimin giving you more folders. “You’re the only one here, at the moment.”

“For fuck’s sake, I can’t take care of a whole wing by myself, Jimin,” You breath out, suddenly having a hard time to concentrate. 

“Hey, breath, Y/N, just breath,” He instructs, patting your back. “I’ve already called Dr. Park, he’ll be here as soon as possible, but for now, you need to do this.”

You close your eyes, pulling your hair back and retying it in a high ponytail. Just the mention of his name gives you energy; you know you need to do good by him. 

“Okay, let’s go,” You put on your jacket and you start all over again, assigning nurses to each case as they demanded it. “Jimin, go to the Neuro department and see what they want, I’m sure Dr. Park’s opinion would be better than mine, so ask if they can wait until he’s here. Nurse Baek and Nurse Kyung, go to the emergency patients for an initial assessment and get back to me; I’m going to room 2.”

Y/N, those two patients you admitted, Jinyoung’s voice ring in your head. They are yours.

“Ms. Lee?” You smile, entering the room where the sweet old lady from before laid. “I’m your doctor, Dr. Y/N…”

“It’s nice to meet you, Doctor Y/N,” She laughs and you smile. She might not remember you, but the light in her eyes shine like no other. 

“It’s nice to meet you too, Ms. Lee,” You shake her hand carefully. “Do you know where you are?”

“The hospital?” She asks. “I don’t remember coming here…”

“Yes, ma’am,” You nod. “You were admitted yesterday… but you don’t have to worry, though; we’ll take really goo care of you.”

“Oh I’m sure of that,” Her hand holds yours. “Can you tell me why I’m here, though? I don’t remember…”

Taking a deep breath, you started to explain her condition, going over the medical details in the simplest terms you could, giving her time to process and ask questions. Ms. Lee had suffered from a brain injury that lead her to have long term memory loss, resetting her brain every few hours, which would lead to issues such as taking care of herself and others. Her daughter admitted her to the hospital in hopes that she could be properly taken care of, and that’s what you’d do. She cries a little bit, but is pretty understanding of her situation over all. 

“Will you come back later, Dr. Y/N?” She sniffles, and you chuckle. 

“Of course, Ms. Lee,” You wink. “I have to visit my favorite patient at least twice a day.”

“I hope I’ll remember you later,” She says and your heart clenches. “If I don’t, it’s been a pleasure, Doctor.”

You just smile, not trusting yourself to speak at that moment. This was the hard part of the job; the feelings, the defeat, the acceptance. All doctors, surgeons or not, go through the same process of training, where you have to deliver bad news to the ones responsible for the patient… and that was the hardest part for you. Always’ been. 

“Dr. Y/N, good morning,” Jinyoung calls, jogging past you to his office. Surprised with his sudden appearance, you take him in, and his jeans and t-shirt make you smile. 

“Good morning, Doctor Park,” You mumble, even though you know he won’t hear you. 

This has been the routine so far; you get in for the early morning shifts, on the nights you don’t have to stay for the overnight shift and miss work, with barely four hours of sleep, and no one is there besides Jimin. You take care of emergency patients and the patients in the rooms assigned to you. Then, when the clock hits an acceptable hour, Dr. Park shows up, wishing you a ‘good morning’ and running to his office, where he will change and look like the professionally stern doctor she usually does. Once your shift is over, you go to work at the bar, where you will pour greasy men their drink until Jinyoung shows up, and you two will talk for the couple hours he usually stays, then he leaves and you have to get back to your real life. And then repeat. Every night, though, Jinyoung brings you coffee; lattes, fast whites, americanos– always something to make your night better. And that’s how it happened, you realize; the slow growth of your feelings for him, one coffee at a time.

Today however, once Dr. Park finally takes over the ward, and your shift is over, and you go to your job where Jisung is waiting for you with redbull and a sandwich, you feel yourself slipping. You move slower than usual and some clients even have to call you twice before you can actually process it.

“What’s going on with you?” Jisung asks as he decided to help you with the counter. 

“Nothing,” You shake your head, hoping it would wake you up. “I think I’m just a little tired.”

“A little?!” He laughs. “You’ve been overworked for years now. A little is underestimating it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say–“

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

You look to the group in front of you and now you feel like you could actually pass out.

“Dr. Kim,” You breath out, eyes wide in surprise. “W-what are you d-doing here?”

Not sure if Jisung heard you, your glance at him and he nods– he’s keeping an eye on you. 

“So this is what you’re doing now?” Dr. Kim lets out a humorless laugh. “As expected of someone like you.”

Stay calm, you think to yourself, taking a deep breath. Stay calm, Y/N, and do your job. 

“What can I help you with today?” And smile.

He laughs again and you don’t think you could ever forget this sound; it haunts you at night when you try to sleep and it follows you during the day, sneaking on your when you’re distracted. The only way to push it away is to focus on something else– like your patients. 

“Oh, so now you want to help me?” He murmurs and leans forward and you’re scared.

For the first time since you started this job, you are terrified. 

“Whiskey.” 

Your hand flies to the bottle instantly, your body reacting on its own and moving to the new man sitting next to Dr. Kim. You feel his eyes on you, heavy on your back as you serve the costumer, unable to look up from your feet. 

“Thanks, Y/N.” 

Jinyoung. 

“Ah,” Now you’re looking at him, begging him with your eyes to stop. “If it isn’t Kim Jungseok…”

“Park Jinyoung,” Dr. Kim smiles and you just want to sit down and cry; for two months, ever since you left your old hospital, all you’ve been wanting to do is cry. “How do you know my old resident?”

At this Jisung is right next to you, pushing you behind him. 

“Because she’s my new resident,” Jinyoung point at you and takes a sip form his cup. “Best one I’ve ever had, to be honest.”

“Oh yeah, Y/N was the best at her job,” Dr. Kim looks at you and winks.

“Funny you say that,” Jinyoung chuckles and a weird sense of deja-vu hits you. You’ve seen that look in his face before, when he fired one of the fellows for inappropriate behavior towards a few of the nurses. From what you knew, he kept hitting on them and intimating them to go on dates. “Why’d you fire her?”

This is when you know you need to intervene.

“Dr. Park, I don’t–“

“She chose to leave,” Dr. Kim shrugs. “Can’t force her to stay, can I?”

Jinyoung laughs and finishes his drink. All the while, alarms are sounding in your head as your current boss turns to face your old boss. Everything in Park Jinyoung screamed powerful at that moment and you know that something big is about to happen.

“No, but apparently you can force her to do other things, right?”

Jisung is quick to pull you to the back as soon as the first punch is thrown. You scream Jinyoung’s name but he is too busy to look and the door closes, leaving just you, shaking and crying, and Jisung, who’s on the phone with the front door bouncers. As soon as they give you the okay, you are running to the front, looking for the man you see everyday, hoping to see him just one more time before tomorrow. 

“No,” You mumble through your tears, banging your fist on the counter. “No no no, fuck no!”

“That was your old boss,” Jisung breaths out, looking at you. “And what Jinyoung said–“

“I have no fucking clue how–“

“Your file,” Jinyoung says, coming out of the bathroom with a wet napkin to his mouth. “Did you really think I’d never find out?”

“I didn’t–“ You stop, trying to think back to what you wrote on your file. “I didn’t say anything about it on my file.”

“You wrote issues with the staff, the rest I assumed,” Jinyoung sighs, sitting back on the stools, flinching a bit. “Harassment is not something I take lightly, Y/N.”

“Assumed?!” You shriek. “How the fuck–“

“You forget that’s my job,” And he looks at you like no one did before– like you are there, shinning brighter than the lights; like you are speaking louder than the music, and presence bigger than the room. He looks at you as if you are the only one present and you feel your heart do a weird thing. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why would I?” You ask. “If people at the hospital knew, I’d be the talk of the department. I’d be labeled as either he girl that couldn’t just put up with it, or the girl that put up with it for too long… so I left before it got worse.”

“I didn’t say people,” He seethes, and you’ve never seen him look so devastated before. Not when Ms. Lee had one of her episodes, not when he was called in to evaluate the mental condition of an inmate, not when you were swarming with emergency patients. Never. “I said me. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I-I don’t know…” You whisper, drying the few tears that still dared to fall and turning to the freezer to get a couple of drinks. “I just didn’t.”

“Do you not trust me?”

“Jinyoung!” You chastise, turning to face him with now two beers. The bar had been closed a little early thanks to the fight and Jisung was nowhere to be seen. It was just the two of you now, and you sit next to him. “Why would you say that?”

He shrugs. “I’m the one responsible for you now,” He sighs, turning to you. “And how can I take care of you if you won’t let me?”

“I’m your employee,” You roll your eyes. “Not your girlfriend.”

“…yeah,” Jinyoung takes a sip. “Sure.”

Something shifts, as you sit there, alone with Jinyoung, drinking beer, after he had just been punched because of you. His words, slow and sad, hit you like a ton of bricks. His eyes, looking down at his hands, make their way to you. And now you know. Now you are sure. 

“Jinyoung,” You breath out, sounding as surprised as you are sure you look. “Do you like me?”

His head hangs low, and he chuckles. “Read my mind again, did you?”

“I–“

“Don’t,” He asks, eyes shinning with strength. “We’re old enough to not have to explain.”

“I work,” You blurt out, ignoring him completely. “Two jobs; the hospital and here. Not because I like, though… here, I mean. I don’t work here because I like it, but the tips are good and I need money.”

Jinyoung just nods. 

“I need to pay my school loans,” Words keep coming out of your mouth and you are not sure why. You’ve never felt the need to explain yourself before, but with Jinyoung everything is just different. “I need to pay them as soon as possible because I don’t want this huge debt interfering with my career. I’m sure I’ll be able to do it in a few years, if I manage to get my fellow in this hospital. All the time I don’t spent with you and Jimin, I’m here. I’m constantly tired, hungry, stressed, and overworked. I smile to men that are disgusting because I can’t tell them fuck themselves without losing my job and I don’t have anything to look forward to, anymore. I like you, too. You are caring, and kind, and an incredible doctor. But why do you like me? I’m not the best at what I do, but I’m not the worst. I’m not particularly skilled, or impressive, or–“

“Somedays,” Jinyoung interrupts your rambling, hand moving to cover yours, resting in the counter. “I have no faith left in humanity. The things I’ve seen, the things I’ve done… I’m not sure exactly why, but somedays I just don’t think there is anything good out there. And then I see you. In all my years of working in that hospital, I’ve never seen anyone like you. You work diligently, without skipping a day, although you’ve not slept for nights, and you do what your told, but you follow your gut. You know right and wrong and, better yet, you know people. You have this freaky ability to read body language and the patients love you, because they know you know what they need and what they want. That is what makes you an incredible doctor.”

You just look at him.

“You say you’re not particularly skilled,” He laugh. “That’s bullshit, Y/N. You are one of the best doctors I’ve seen. Hell, you are one of the best people I’ve met. I literally took a punch for you, because you are so worth it.”

“Jinyoung–“

“Don’t do that again,” He asks, stroking his thumb on the palm of your hand. “Tell me things. I want to know them, so I can help you. I know right now seems hard, but you will get through this. I know you will."

“How are you so sure?” You whisper, entranced by this man.

“Because I did,” He smiles. “Five years ago, I worked this same job, at this same place. And I did it; I payed all of my loans back, turned into a pretty good doctor, and dare I say, met you. Things seem pretty fine to me.”

“Oh my god, you are so cringey,” You groan, laughing with him. “Who knew? Intimidating Dr. Park is actually the softest boy.”

“Just for you,” He says and you laugh even harder. “Now why don’t I take you home? You can hopefully get a full eight-hour-sleep if we leave now.”

The ride to your house is silent and comfortable. But that’s all that is– a ride. Jinyoung drops you home, and, after declining your offer for coffee, drives away. 

You go to bed confused and lost. 

He did say he liked me, right?

                                                                     ————————

“And he left?!” Wheein shouts, banging her fists on the table. “Wah, that man really is heartless…”

“Yah,” You frown. “Don’t say that.”

“Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to offed your boyfriend,” Wheein laughs and you chuckle with her, eating your lunch in silence. 

Jimin looks at you with a little smile, but says nothing, so you nod at him. “You are awfully quiet today.”

“Ah, am I?” He chuckles. “Didn’t notice…”

Wheein elbows you and you look at her, suspicious of your friend. “Spill it, Park.”

“Spill what?” He makes an innocent face but he can’t fool you. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” You ask, resting your face on your hands.

“Like I’m kidding something,” He mumbles and looks to the side.

“Ah!” You shout, pointing at his eyes. “Why’d you look away? What are you hiding?”

“I really hate you and your mind reading abilities,” He groans and hides his face in his arms. “I can’t say.”

“Why not?” You whine, looking at Wheein as she laughs. “We have no secrets among us!”

“Yes we do,” Jimin scoffs. “And this one I really can’t tell.”

“Come on, Jimin-ah,” Wheein begs, curious as well. “Tells us.”

“Nope,” He says and gets up. “Gotta blast.”

“Does this has anything to do with Jinyoung?” You ask, and he flinches a little before running away.

“What was that?” Wheein asks pointing at your friend. “He’s the worst at keeping secrets!”

You shrug and go back to work, waving goodbye as she runs after Dr. Kim Yugyeom with some files that need his signature. Jimin is at his station but he refuses to talk to you, certainly afraid that he will spill the beans. The day goes by slowly like this, and right before you leave, you remember a few papers that need Dr. Park’s signature. 

“Jimin,” You call, running to the front desk. “Where is Dr. Park? I need his–“

“Not here,” He says quickly and leaves. “Goodbye, have a goodnight!”

“So fucking weird,” You mumble watching him speed walk to Ms. Lee’s room. 

You leave the papers in the front desk with a post-it note and decide to call it for the day, thankful that you are out on time and that you won’t be late for your shift at the bar. You are on the elevator when you pull your phone, ready to text Jisung but surprised to see that he texted you first.

I won’t be at work today. Just you ;)

You swear you almost have a heart attack. 

What the fuck do you mean it’s just me? Jisung, I can’t take care of the bar by myself!

We’re not opening tonight, chill. I just need you to check inventory and you’re done. 

Why can’t he do that? You sigh, knowing that you can get that done within the hour and then go home and rest. 

Okay.

You get to the bar already exhausted and you drop your bag in the door, taking a second to breath. You admit, you loved this place. The wooden tables and counter, the atmosphere, the freedom. You’ll miss it when it’s gone. You feel so natural in there, not having to hide anything from anyone. You feel comfortable, even though sometimes you have some trouble. 

Is this why Jinyoung comes here every night?, you wonder, walking to the counter to check the bottles. Is he looking for comfort, too?

You are halfway through inventory when you hear the chimes of the door. Knowing that Jisung was probably on the seventh heaven with his boyfriend right now, you make your way to the front, shouting as you walk.

“Sorry, we’re not open tonight!”

“Not even for me?” 

You look up to Jinyoung, not exactly surprised, but still impressed. He looked flawless, in jeans and a jumper. His hair, ruffled by the wind outside, covered his eyes a bit and you smile, thinking he looks adorable in his glasses. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask, walking to him. “You weren’t at the hospital…”

“I had a consultation at the penitentiary,” He sighs, and his shoulders drop at the confession. You feel the stress coming out of him, and you grab his hand, hoping that maybe some human touch is exactly what he needs. “But I wanted to see you.”

“Hello, then,” You smile bright. “Want a drink?”

“Thought you were closed?” He teases, sitting on his usual stool nonetheless. You laugh and walk behind the counter, and everything feels oddly familiar. 

“I’ll make an exception for you, kind sir,” You joke. “You did help me even without knowing me…”

“Ah, I was wondering if you recognized me from that night,” He smiles and that is all you needed. “I hated seeing that man grabbing you like that, to be honest.”

“Why? Were you already so in love with me that you got– Hey, where are you going?!” You laugh as he rolls his eyes and pretends to leave the room. He comes back when you ask him to, grabbing his cup and your hand in the process. “I missed you today.”

“Yeah?” He asks shyly, blushing a bit as you lean over the counter, face really close to his. “Missed you, too…”

“Jinyoung,” You groan. “When will you kiss me?”

You think he chokes on his drink and once you reach over to tap him on his back, he pulls you by the wrist, covering your mouth with his. You can’t help but chuckle at this man; he always looks so demanding and stern in the hospital, but his kiss is nothing short of shy and gentle. He takes his time, and your neck even hurts a bit after he pulls away, but it’s oh so worth it. 

“There,” He ‘tsk’s’ and takes another sip. “Happy? I was planning something more romantic, but you are just too impatient.”

“Oh shut up,” You hit his arm lightly. “It was visible how much you wanted to kiss me.”

“Okay, this can’t do,” He gets up and goes behind the counter, caging you in between his arms. “Y/N, this won’t work like this.”

“What do you mean?”

“For this,” He motions in between you two. “To work, you need to stop reading me.”

At that, you laugh, throwing your head back and wheezing. “It’s not something I chose to do!”

“I want to surprise you at leas once!” He whines.

“Oh,” You gasp, looking at his pouting lips. “Is big bad doctor whining?”

“Stop teasing me!” He begs, hiding his face on your neck. “I’m not good with these things.”

“Oh, I think you’re great,” You say, kissing him once more. “The best, really.”

“I hate you,” He groans, lips finding yours again. 

Jinyoung pulls you closer, sitting you on top of the counter and finding a place in between your legs as he kisses you like there is no tomorrow. Now, he is much more firm then he was before, and you can’t hide your excitement, grabbing his neck and hair and pulling him closer. 

“We need to stop,” He murmurs on your lips. “Seriously, I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself if we keep going.”

“Behave yourself, we’re at my work place,” You laugh and, pecking his lips one last time, jump out of the counter. “I still have some stuff to do, but you can go home if you want.”

Jinyoung shakes his head. “No way, I’m dropping you home after this. Jisung said he can’t come pick you up and I don’t like you walking home by yourself at night.”

“Jisung? Since when you guys talk?”

“Since I needed to find out when you’d get here,” Jinyoung smiles mischievously and he looks so young and carefree that you don’t dare to tease him, afraid that he’ll close himself off again. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“You did,” You smile. “Is that why Jimin was acting weird all day?”

“Ah, that boy can’t keep a secret for his life,” Jinyoung sighs. “Poor him, I bet you and Wheein interrogated him.”

“You bet we did, he was acting so weird!”

The banter occupies most of your time and soon enough you find yourself home, on your bed, with Jinyoung’s arms wrapped around you. The comfort is unlike anything you’ve felt before and you snuggle closer to him, happy at last.

As sleep caught up to you, you couldn’t help but think how excited you were for work tomorrow, when you’d finally have someone to pick you up, too. 

-----------------------

Hello lovelies! As promised, here is the update of the week! Jinyoung’s turn <3 This was so much fun to write, although I will admit, it’s been the hardest one so far. What do you think? Let me know in the comments :P Love you all and thank you for the constant support <3

[mysterycheerio]

Lights Up, on Washington Heights up in the break of day…

Peter closed his door, keys rattling in his hand. Across the street sat his little corner shop - the coffee shop he had worked in since he was small, and in front of it, the gang of graffiti artists painting the roller door in front of it.

The customers were gathered around, watching the artist, mumbling to themselves in disagreement for the pseudo Banksy.

Frustration filled him, and he ran towards them, shouting, "Hey, HEY!"

They ran off.

I wake up and I got this little punk I gotta chase away,

He entered the shop, asking the polite customers to bear with him a moment while he got everything ready, humming to himself as he did his chores.

Pop the grate at the crack of dawn, sing while I wipe down the awning-

He stepped outside, flipping the sign to 'open', and said in a good-natured tone, "Hey, y'all, good morning."

Piragüero, the man selling a sweet, shaved ice type dessert, called a 'piragua', rounded the corner, like he did every day, "Ice cold piragua! Parcha, China, Cherry, Strawberry, and just for today, I got mamey!"

"Yo, Piragüero! ¿Como estas?"

"¡Como siempre, Señor Parker!"

He smiled as the old ladies brought in their grandchildren, pulling them up to the desk. He greeted them the way he knew the ladies wanted.

"They call me Peter, and you prob'ly never heard my name - reports of my fame are greatly exaggerated," he said in a sing-song voice. The guardians began to shop, leaving the children at the front of the store listening to his story - how he's a first generation immigrant, who now sells coffee in his little corner shop.

He went into the back for the second, talking loud enough so that the kids could hear him. He opened the fridge and sniffed the milk, checking to see if it was still fresh, but all that met his nose was the scent of putrid dairy.

The door opened, and in stood Maria Carbonell, known to the community as Abuela Maria.

"Abuela, my fridge broke," he said, voice hinting at desperation as he tried to speak quietly so the kids wouldn't hear him, "I have café but no con leche!"

She smiled, "Try my mothers old recipe: one can of condensed milk."

They walked back out, winking at the kids, "Nice!"

"Ay, Paciencia Y Fe!"

He turned his attention to the kids, "That was Abuela, she's not really my Abuela but she practically raised me, this corner is her esquela," he said, the kids laughing as he turned on the spot.

"Excuse me," a middle aged man said politely, "Can you tell me how to get here?" He pointed at a picture of downtown.

"Ah, you're probably thinking, 'I'm up shits creek'. Have you ever been North of 96th Street?" He shook his head. Peter figured as much, "Well, you must take the A train, go even farther than Harlem, to Northern Manhattan. Get off at 181st and take the escalator. And you're there!" 

"Thank you so much," he said, grateful, before holding his hand out to one of the kids and pulling him out of the shop, "Come on Michael."

"But dad, I want to listen to the man's stories!"

He smiled.

Soon the kids had to depart with their guardians, and he gave a friendly wave at their departure.

I'm getting tested, times are tough on this bodega, two months ago somebody bought Ortega's. Our neighbours started packing up, and picking up, and ever since the rent's went up-

"It's gotten mad expensive," a kid said, making small talk as Peter handed him his coffee.

"But we live with just enough," he said, smiling.

"Amen, brother."

Next up to bat, the Starks! They run the cab company, and struggle in the barrio, see - their son Harley is off at college, tuition is mad steep, so they can't sleep, everything they get is mad cheap.

"Good morning, Kid," Tony said, hand in hand with his wife, Pepper.

"Pan caliente café con leche!" 

Tony nodded, "Put 20 dollars on today's lottery-"

"One ticket, that's it!"

"Hey, a man's got a dream."

Peter laughed at the couples banter, when Pepper addressed him, "Don't mind him, he's all excited cause Harley flew in at 3 am last night-"

Peter set down the drinks, "Don't look at me."

They took their drinks, and as a parting message, Tony said, "Underoos, come over for dinner, there's plenty to eat!"

Peter barely got five seconds before he heard the sound of distinct chatter, "So, then Yesenia walks in the room-"

"-Uh huh."

"She smells sex and cheap perfume, it smells like one of those trees that you hang from the rear-view!"

"No!"

"It's true! She screams 'who's in there with you, Julio!' Grabs a bat and kicks in the door, and she's in bed with Josè from the liquor store."

"No me diga," the younger of the two said.

"Wanda and Nat, going to the salon?"

Nat nodded, and the two chorused, "Thanks Pete!"

Monday is a busy day for him, to say the least. 

The bell on the door dings for the umpteenth time that morning, but instead of a customer, it's a small, black boy, fourteen, who's rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

"Miles, you're late," he says, his tone annoyed, but Miles knows there isn't any real bite behind it.

"Chillax," he says, making his way to the back of the store, "You know you love me."

He rolls his eyes.

Me and my cousin running just another dime-a-dozen, Mom-and-Pop, stop-and-shop and oh my god, it's gotten two darn hot-

He turned on the AC. The weather man said this summer will be one of the hottest in history.

People come through for a few cold waters and a lottery ticket, just a part of the routine, everybodies got a job, everybodies got a dream. They gossip as I sip my coffee and smirk, the first stop as people hop to work.

That's his day really. An endless blur of one dollar, two dollars, one fifty, one sixty-nine, I got it, you want a box of condoms what kind?, that's two quarters, the New York Times, you need a bag for that? The tax is added.

Like he was saying to Miles when he first came into his life, "Once you get some practice at it, you do rapid mathematics automatically."

Miles then comes out of the back, preparing himself to work the counter so Peter could do the coffee's - Peter was the only one who knew the secret recipes that kept the customers coming- successfully snapping him out of his thoughts.

"How are they today?"

"Practically everybody's stressed, but they press through the mess."

Miles nodded.

"You ain't got no skills," a voice said, as they walked into the store.

"Ned!"

Ned smiled, leaning against the counter. Peter and him were best friends growing up, so naturally, Ned was a regular in the shop, despite working long hours for a boss that didn't respect him.

"Yo, let me get a-"

"Milky way?" Peter guessed.

"...Yeah. Let me also get a-"

"Daily news."

"And a-"

"Post."

"And a most importantly, my-"

"Boss' second coffee, one cream, five sugars."

Miles wrinkled his nose at Ned's boss's absurd amount of sugar, and Ned began to talk to Peter about his job while he waited.

"I don't get it! I'm the number one earner! He can't keep me on the damn back burner-"

"Yes he can."

"I'm making moves, and I'm making deals, but guess what?"

"What?"

"Ya still ain't got no skills!"

"Hardee-Har," he said, sarcastically, pouring the creamer in.

"Has Michelle shown up yet?" Ned asked Miles, who was smiling.

"Shut up!" Peter said hastily.

"Hey, dude, don't be upset. You should tell her how you feel. Buy the girl a meal,on the real, or you ain't got no skills."

The doorbell dinged. This is why Peter was so anxious to be talking about Michelle. She normally came in around this time. Right now, she was looking at the ground, phone to her ear.

"Mr. Johnson, I have that security deposit. I've been saving to make a down-payment, and pay rent… no, no, I won't let you down-".

Ned whispered to him, "Here's your chance, ask her out."

"-I'll see you later, we can look at that lease," she said, before hanging up.

"Do something, make your move, don't freeze!"

"Hey," he said, buzzing with nerves.

"You owe me a bottle of cold champagne," she said, her voice soft and soothing. Despite this, her words made a heavy feeling form in his gut. It was something they'd thought about years ago, but only if-

"Are you moving?"

She shrugged, "Just a little credit check and I'm on that downtown train."

He tried to shake off the sad feeling, "Well, your coffee's on the house."

"Okay," she said with a smile, before turning to leave.

"Peter, ask her out."

"No way," Miles said.

But Michelle turned around, "I'll see you later… so…"

And with that, she left.

"Oh, smooth operator, oh damn, there she goes," Ned teased, before taking a look at Peter’s still kinda sad face, "Hey, dude. Take five, get some fresh air, a walk outside. You look exhausted, lost…"

"I kinda feel that way," he joked, but was it a joke?

Ned looked at him with sympathy, "Hey, the whole neighbourhood is struggling, and times are tight, and you're stuck to this corner like a streetlight…"

Ned looked at his watch, and rushed out of the shop, saying he was gonna be late and bidding adieu to the two guys, but Peter could say it back, his friends words bouncing around in his head.

Yeah, I'm a streetlight, choking on the heat. The world spins around while I'm frozen to my seat. The people that I know all keep on rolling down the street, and everyday is different so I'm switching up the beat.

Cause my parents came with nothing, they got a little more, and sure, we're poor, but yo, at least we got the store. It's all about the legacy they left with me, it's destiny, and-

One day, I'll be on the beach with Miles writing checks to me.

That's what he wants to do. His parents died, along with his aunt and uncle, leaving him in the care of Abuela. He longs to go to a beach, and reconnect with his roots. A better life, one where he isn't stuck serving coffee's.

It gets more expensive every day, in their little corner of the world. 

Turn up the stage lights, we're taking a flight to a couple of days of what it's like-

In Washington Heights.

[2018shawn]

prohibited | th x oc

If you grab a dictionary and look up the word ‘inconvenience’,

 you’ll find Tom Holland’s name printed in huge, bold letters. 

a/n: yoooo I actually forgot I wrote this so I'm pretty nervous about posting it actually. this is obvs gonna be a multi-part fic, no idea how many parts lmao. any feedback appreciated 💓

warnings: none 

troupe: strangers → f.w.b → lovers (aka a rocky road)

word count: 1.7k

⌜intro⌟

One of Evie’s most annoying habits, and believe me, she’s been told more than enough times to know, is biting the end of her pen - or pencil - and twisting the plastic cap in-between her teeth. She’d done it since she could remember, it was just a way of releasing tension and nerves, but, considering it’s her boss’s pet hate and he picked up on it every time he entered the room, she really needed to nip it in the bud. 

Evie twirled the black biro in between her index finger and thumb, the lid rattling against her teeth as she sunk further into the chair. Her chair was almost central in the line, pulled up to the longest conference table she’d ever seen in what she believed to be the largest meeting room of the building, and boy is it a gigantic building. “Lindsay on sixth floor said we’re finding out some new big ass movie plot,” Evie’s colleague and friend, Paris, whispered whilst leaning over to her chair from her own. Evie and Paris had been tight ever since she’d started as an intern after leaving school, she almost took her under her wing, showed her the ropes - even went as far as showing her where the fancy coffee capsules were kept. Evie soon learnt that coffee was very much needed when you worked at Sony Picture Entertainment, fancy capsules or not. 

“Yeah well, Lindsay on sixth floor also said Tom Hardy tried to follow her into the ladies bathroom...” She rolled her eyes and turned to her friend, who simply shrugged and pulled away, sitting back straight in her chair. The door to the meeting room buzzed open, a key card access needed for entrance and everyone’s quiet muttering and speculations came to an immediate dead silence. 

Much like the rest of the room, Evie straightened her back, crossing her legs underneath the table in an attempt to sit as presentable and professional as possible. As quick as everyone poised themselves into business mode, they relaxed just as quick. Maria, the super cute food and drinks assistant, who always snuck Evie an extra piece of bacon in her Friday morning sandwich, rolled in her trolley, laughing at the unsubtle atmosphere from the participants in the room. Paris leant over to Everly again, her blonde hair falling in between them both. “Champagne?” Her aggressive whisper drew more attention than she’d wanted, resulting in everyone else concentrating on the huge and expensive looking bottles of fizz on Maria’s trolley. 

Evie’s mouth pulled to the side in confusion, knowing that Champagne only came out on the most appropriate of occasions. Maria set up her display, making sure the champagne flutes were crystal clear as she delicately placed them on the serving table. Another 5 or so minutes of muffled chat and theorising went by when the buzzer sounded again, only this time it wasn’t Maria and her trolley of tricks. 

The amount of nerves that filled the room were uncountable as Mr. Big Boss walked in, otherwise known as Michael Stud. Michael Stud had intimidated Evie, since way back when, but she wasn’t the only one who felt like that. It was normal to be scared of your boss, sure, but when he came storming down your office hallways just because someone from the floor had tweeted about a movie review - it was extra scary. Said twitter user was never seen in the offices again, FYI. 

Michael Stud wasn't alone. Behind him followed a small bundle of five individuals, talking and laughing amongst themselves, which made a nice contrast from the extremely silent room. Evie pulled the lapels of her spring coloured suit jacket together, trying to cover the stupid slogan tee-shirt and she suddenly wishes she picked the formal white shirt this morning. She also wishes she opted for a nice pair of heels instead of the white, canvas converse that she tucked under her chair, also in a bid to hide. Michael began with the formalities, introducing the crew behind him, some of who he offered to sit down, apart from the man with incredibly styled run-your-fingers-through hair who stay attentive at Stud’s side, eyes scanning the room as he admired all the faces in front of him.

Evie felt Paris’ presence yet again, Michael getting knee deep into the reason of why all senior department supervisors were bundled in the extremely warm room on a Thursday afternoon. “He’s been in... films n’ stuff,” she whispered, and Evie tried her hardest to remain professional, keeping eyes forward at all times. “I think maybe that tsunam...”

“Ms. Kershaw, is there something you’d like to add?” Michael asked, his eyes being the only pair that didn’t turn to face her because Michael could hear anything and anyone that would try talk over him. Evie winced, internally, lips pulling into a straight, thin line as she clicked eye contact with Miles who sat opposite. He slyly brought his hand up to his neck and mimicked running a knife across it, making it even harder for her to remain professional. 

Paris shuffled awkwardly in her seat, picking up her pen and looking at her notepad as if there was going to be some miracle excuse written down on there. “Sorry, Mr Stud. I was just speaking aloud really...” Her palms were sweaty, but once she started talking she could never stop. “I thought I recognised our new friend here, and I think, maybe it’s just clicked, from that tsunami... impossible?... film?” 

The handsome boy next to Michael beamed a wide smile, raising his eyebrows, “remind me to hit you up for the next pub quiz” was the first thing the young man had spoken since he’d entered the room and he even sounded attractive. Evie had dealt with her fair share of movie stars, she composed contracts for them for crying out loud, but never in her life had she come across someone who was so incredibly sexy and cute at the same time. 

Luckily, Michael seemed to be in a good mood - probably something to do with the champagne announcement - and laughed along with the guest and everyone else in the room, only making Paris sink further into her chair, wanting the ground to swallow her whole. The five minute introduction felt like five years, not just for Evie but for the entire room. No thanks to Michael’s long and in depth ramblings about the man stood at the front of the room, anyone who didn’t already know learnt his name, the movies he’s been in and yes, it did include the ‘tsunami... impossible... film’ - to which Paris hid her head in her hands as everyone joint in the laughter again - and finally that he was here because he was going to be involved in the remake of something incredibly exciting. “So, everyone, meet Spider-Man!”

Joyous cheers and claps filled the room, not one person in there ashamed to say they were huge fans. Evie was most definitely not ashamed to be fan-girlling, she loved the previous movies and had always been a fan of superhero’s but she pinned that down to the fact she grew up with brothers, and chick flicks were the last thing on the movie menu. The drinks were poured and passed around, Tom giving a small speech about the usual - how grateful and excited he was to be working with everyone, how he couldn’t wait to get started and put his take on the classic.

Tom was his usual, charming self as he made his way around the room to meet everyone and introduce himself; all the time keeping an eye on the girl in the yellow suit. He admired the way she looked smart and professional, but also how her converse and tee shirt brought her back down to normal level. He loved the way her caramel hair hung in loose curls from her pony tail, the shorter front parts of her curls framing around her face, apart from when she would reach up and took them behind her ears.

Evie kept her flute in her hand, not once taking a sip from the fizzy liquid in the glass. She wasnt one to mix business and pleasure, and considering she was head of contractual agreements, she figured she’d have to be drafting up a pretty quick signable paper for Tom to ensure he would not leak the news. Michael was big on secrets, he thought it added to the suspense of a film release. “This is our quiz buff and apparent movie researcher, Paris Kershaw,” Michael spoke, interrupting the conversation between Paris and Evie. Paris’ cheeks flushed red, once again, as Tom outstretched his hand, shaking hers firmly. He’d probably given more handshakes than he’d had hot dinners, so it was very strong and Evie couldn’t help but bite her lower lip as his bicep muscle flexed, the hem of his shirt sleeve stretched against his skin. “And this young lady, is here to make sure what happens at Sony, stays at Sony,” he smiled, holding his hand out to her to signal who he was talking about and she brought her own hand up, modestly waving and smiling. Tom outstretched his arm again and Evie reciprocated, taking his gentle offer. She thought she stopped breathing for a short second when they touched, his thumb wrapping around the back of her hand and gripping with power.

“Evie.” She smiled, realising she was yet to introduce herself, most probably embarassing herself in front of not only her boss and colleagues, but now a movie star.

Tom’s hand tugged at Evie’s arm, surprisingly to her, as she stumbled forwards, the front of her body crashing into his. “Tom.” he had smiled back in the process, as if he hadn’t been introduced a million times and was the sole reason everyone was there. His other hand snaked around Evie’s back, resting on the lower part and she became suddenly nervous, only continuing to hold onto the hand shake in the meantime. “Nice to meet you.” He added, face hovering next to hers and breath fanning against her ear. It was at that moment she got goosebumps, tensing up and only able to nod in return. 

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

You caught my attension with the "Bad end Wizard Wally" Au, what else goes down in there?

A lot of things anon, a lot of things:

-Instead of even so much as humoring the thought of telling Conner, Wally straight up quits and gets a job elsewhere.

-A few years later both Wally and Henry get letters asking them to come to the old studio; one from Joey asking Henry to ‘come visit the old workshop’, the other from Thomas begging Wally to destroy the machine because he can’t do it himself.

-Henry and Wally show up to the inked studio.

-Curiosity leads the pair to activate the ink machine. (Wally thought that Thomas was referring to the other ink machine, not the one suspended by chains.)

-The Ink Demon breaks down the boards and chases them through the studio before the floor breaks beneath them.

-Post-machine activation: the studio fucks with Wally’s magical powers, often having spells backfire on himself. (i.e. if he tries to make something levitate, it automatically flings itself into his face.)

-Due to the fact that Joey found out how to successfully make living cartoons out of people early on, there are no searchers in the studio.

-The Lost ones are still here but they’re much rarer, they flee from sight whenever you see them, and they aren’t made by the machine like canon implied, instead they’re human beings who drank the ink.  

-The two unwilling heroes try to escape via the music department’s flooded stairwell, but they get stopped by Sammy and dragged deeper into ink hell.

-Sammy doesn’t worship the Ink Demon in this AU. In fact, his mind and body are not affected by the ink at all.

-Instead, his mental decline is brought on by his own psychic abilities which he became aware of due to Joey’s meddling. He can’t even think about the past and present anymore, only the future.

-Thus, the man’s new role is not of a desperate madman clinging onto a false savior, but instead a cold and calculating wildcard of an oracle who constantly stalks the two heroes from the shadows and throws wrenches in their escape plans, but also keeps them safe from the wrath of the ink demon whenever he can.

-Boris is still a friend, but he’s a little less chipper and much more on edge than canon.

-Either Wally or Henry can find a tape recorder buried in Boris’s stuff that was made by a gofer who’s talking about the fact that while the living cartoons came out of the machine looking exactly like their animated counterparts, they often try to change how they look, behave coldly and are hostile towards everybody, and are especially hostile towards Joey Drew.

-“The Cameraman is probably the worst out of all of them, it’s almost like he’s trying to make everybody quit their jobs!”

-You know how dogs sigh like they had the roughest time in the world? The only noise Boris makes is that sigh and he only makes it when that tape recording is played.

-Who attacks our heroes if searchers aren’t in the enemy roster? Simple: a hoard of deformed toons.

-We’ve got our classic Butchered gang members, Sliced-Split-n-Stitched Back up SSSB members, and Woolly troubled trios.

-But these appear in the music dep, Bendyland, the village, and the administration offices. Instead of being regular deformed, the enemies in the Heavenly toys department have seemingly been forcefully fused together.

-This makes them slower and weaker, but they also have three times as much health now.

-Susie is referred to as “Twisted Alice” in the studio. This is because she doesn’t look like a more human-proportioned Alice Angel with a deformed face, but instead a mashup of Alice Angel and Miss Twisted.

-Looks like misery loves company.

-Instead of seeking ‘perfection’ Twisted Alice sends Wally and Henry to do tasks for her because she’s trying to make herself be one or the other, she doesn’t care which one she’ll end up as anymore but trying to be two (technically three) different people at once is really messing with her.

-The tasks she gives are still the same, instead of the swollen searcher task, that’s instead replaced with “Gather thick ink from the flooded level”.

-You know how the Projectionist is already scary?

-Imagine him with the ability to raise the dead.

-Like, Henry and Wally are in level 14 gathering severed hearts...

-And then an ear-splitting scream echoes through the area.

-And.

-Then.

-The.

-Fucking.

-Corpses.

-Of.

-The.

-Dead.

-Toons.

-Start.

-Rising.

-And.

-Attacking.

-Norman’s ‘I sees everythang’ tape is slightly altered to include more corpse puns.

-When all the chores are done, Twisted Alice does keep her word and lets Henry and Wally up.

-When they’re *this* close to seeing daylight again, *BAM!*

-The Elevator drops like a hot coal.

-Was it sabotaged? Was it just old and dangerous? Was this just bad luck? That’s up for interpretation depending on who you believe first.

-Boris is kidnapped by a much more Miss Twisted-looking Twisted Alice while the old men are out.

-Intentional murder to commit dog theft, or Miss Twisted being opportunistic?

-Giant cavern? Lame carnival minigames? Air vent maze? Nah, screw that, instead Bendyland gets some more rides.

-Fight off foes in the ferris wheel!

-Avoid killer bumper cars with running chainsaws attached to them while trying to get the haunted house’s power back on!

-Can’t forget Bertrum! In the fight, if he puts down all four of his arms and pushes down hard enough, he can actually walk around the room.

-Kinda like a giant mechanical spider with only four legs.

-This makes it harder to hit his weak points and makes it easy for him to fucking stampede over “Joey”, which is why he does it. But it takes a lot out of him, so he can’t do it for very long.

-And he can’t do it anymore if two or more of his arms are ripped off.

-The Projectionist’s section is the same but with more toon corpses around.

-And if you didn’t get caught in his light or touch the hearts, when Wally and Henry pile into the miracle station and The Projectionist is *just* about to open the door until getting interrupted, instead of screaming at the ink demon and getting into a fight, the Projectionist opens the door and fucking squeezes himself in there.

-Not very comfortable, but better than the alternative.

-Congrats to Henry and Wally, who graduated from ‘trespassing thieves’ to ‘weird but sorta okay flesh things who didn’t take my hearts again and let me in their safe territory in spite of me trying to kill them’.

-Boris actually can be saved.

-Did you give the dog a bone back at the safe house?

-Good, now give him three more.

-The Janitor and the Animator have no fucking clue why throwing bones at this deformed, beefed-up version of Boris managed to melt off the excess ink and junk, or why he can speak now, but they’re not going to look a gift wolf in the mouth.

-Did somebody say back-to-back boss battle?

-I did!

-Sadly, it’s kind of a short fight as it can range from ‘three on one and one of them is a fucking wizard (just because recoil is hell doesn’t mean it’ll stop Wally in dire situations)’ to ‘four on one and one of those four can bring back the dead by screaming’.

-Allison and Tom wrangle the team up and stick ‘em in the “guest room”.

-Tom chews Wally out for re-activating the ink machine, Wally can’t take him seriously when he’s that fucking small and sounds like a mechanical snob.

-It’s even funnier when the Projectionist has been befriended.

-Let him have his tiny camera-headed son back, Allison.

-The river boat chase is longer and there seems to be more than just one hand coming out of the ink.

-Wally swears he sees a bunch of teeth in the river while the hands are down.

-In the village, the group are immediately attacked by a swarm of deformed toons when they approach the boarded up hovel.

-They shout things like “STAY AWAY FROM THE PROPHET!” and stuff like that in their garbled voices.

-When all of them are gone, peering through the boards in the hovel the team approached in the first place reveals that Sammy is indeed in there, just staring off into space and muttering about something the team can’t quite make out.

-Breaking down the said boards might seem logical, but it triggers a brutal boss fight against him. That musical bastard is fast and hits like a freight train. Also psychic powers, you have to be the luckiest person in the world to win a fight against a man who sees your every move before you can even think of it.

-Just... leave him be... and focus on getting outta here.

-The administration maze is as annoying as ever thanks to not having any weapons and the maze itself being magically disabling.

-Beast Bendy gets some bigger legs to go with his giant torso and head.

-Now he’s even faster and more annoying!

-but can’t do shit against the team.

-Good Ending: getting the biggest team you can in game, breaking the machine and punching Joey in the face for doing ...that. It sucks that everything got this bad but at least you helped the others make it outta there.

-Neutral ending: “Come by the old workshop, there’s something I need to show you”

-Bad Ending of the ‘Bad end Wizard Wally Au’  (Worst possible ending): Henry and Wally have fully succumbed to the ink through a path of violence, evading death by the toons, and have fully lost themselves, they do not remember their lives and families before the ink anymore. And Joey couldn’t be more tickled pink! It’s a shame that making perfect demon toons is such a complicated process compared to making an object-headed toon, a ‘human’ toon, or an animalistic toon, but all the trouble was worth it as a trip through the machine later, Joey finally has the last two he needs: A Perfect Papa Pluto and a Perfect Bendy.

[capo-cedes]

Invasion

INVOLVED: Mercedes D’onofrio, Nicholas D’onofrio TIME FRAME: LOCATION: D’onofrio Estate; New York City, New York NOTES: Nicholas and Mercedes house are invaded. 

Mercedes sat at the end of the dinner table, looking at the empty chair on the opposite side of it. She watched the staff  as they set the dinner table to accommodate her for the night, wondering if she’d be eating it all alone. “I will go fetch Mr. D’onofrio” the servant said to her quickly before she rushed off to do as she had stated, going to seek the man out in the massive house before the food got too cold. Or the Mrs. grew fiery over his absence. Mercedes watched the woman as she moved to exit the dining room space, in pursuit of Nicholas and she sighed heavily. Knocking twice on the man’s office door, the older woman stood there upright, waiting for the man to grant her the permission to come in. 

Nicholas' long arm reached out and steadied him against the window seal. If there was something stirring outside, honestly, he couldn’t see it.  Yet, he tried with every ounce of his being.  His eyes caught a brief flicker of motion. His eyes pricked up, shoulders tensing then relaxing just as quickly as he realized it was only his guards on patrol. He righted himself, casually and nodded down at the men, before turning away from the window all together.  He walked towards his desk, his motion directed even if his mind was wondering.  He could stand being sequestered in his own home.  But what the Don wanted…. He thought, as he heard a knock on the door.  “Come!” he yelled, sitting down behind his desk. 

The older woman moved to open the door and walked in to see Nicholas sitting down at his desk. She lowered her head a bit at the man, out of respect. “Mr. D’onofrio… will you be joining the Mrs. for dinner tonight?” she asked him softly. “We prepared a spinach salad with warm butter dressing, roasted lamb chops, lemon garlic butter roasted potatoes, steamed asparagus, and carrot souffle” she breathed, falling quiet as she waited for his response. 

Even the mere mention of his wife's moniker brought a twist of anger, bitterness, and sadness to Nicholas. The latter he pushed down almost immediately. He formed his mouth to say "no", his  hand  waving the woman dismissively away. However, his mouth water involuntarily at the menu and he modified his original plan. "Second thought… yes, I will. Thank you” he said on his feet once more.  He didn't wait for the escort. And made his way to the dinning room quickly. The winter's chill still lay thick between him and his… wife.  Nevertheless, more up he moved beside her and dropped a kiss on the side of her forehead.  "How is my son doing today?" He asked moving to the other end of the table. 

The woman waited for the man’s response, he dismissed her and it didn’t surprise her at all. However, before she could really depart from him he changed her mind, which in her mind was amazing considering the fact that his wife had been less than pleasant lately. She was sure his stand on their feud would just add more fuel. “Great” she breathed softly to him as she moved to leave the space moving back to her post. Mercedes looked at her plate and her glass as it was placed before her and her glass was filled. As her husband surfaced for dinner to her shock she didn’t meet his gaze she instead picked her fork up and moved to eat her dinner. His kiss burned against her skin, for the fact that she was boiling on the inside since his little comment about Sara whom she to her deepest regret discovered was still very much so alive. Out of him, Al, and Freddie she didn’t know which was going to die first. She licked her lips slowly at his question and placed some food into her mouth. Her eyes flickered up at him as he sat down across the table from her, dark green eyes darkened and she blinked before she looked back down slowly. “Your son…” she repeated to herself uncertainty laced in the comment, an evil chuckle leaving her lips amusing herself with her own pettiness as she continued to eat her food. 

Nicholas watched the deep emerald of her eyes flash with pure danger.  He smirked at Red’s statement, then jabbed his finger at the dishes laid out on the table, to indicate what he wanted to be served. Under Nicholas’ eye the butler quickly moved into action preparing his plate, the mobster watched lamb and potatoes were piled on his plate. He had a need to be more of a carnivore tonight. Once his food was in front of him, he turned his attention back to his wife. “Spirit. I’ve always liked that about you” He said in a mocking tone. 

Picking up her knife, Mercedes cut a piece of lamb off its bone and popped it into her mouth. She rested the fork down against her plate and her fork. Chewing lightly, she looked at her husband only for a moment before she lifted her glass. A chuckle left her “I would’ve sworn the only like you had was for my figure” she said sarcastically. “It’s what Sara and I have in common after all” she said with a bit of a growl she wasn’t expecting to release. She sat the glass back down and tended to her food once more. 

Nicholas shook his head, stabbing a piece of potato with his fork. He waved the spired vegetable with a shrug of his shoulders.  "No, with Sara it’s about the breast. I'm more of an ass man nowadays." He said eating the potato.  He could soothe her but he didn't want to.  "I want to see the recordings."  He said, going back to his plate. 

Mercedes rolled her eyes so hard they hurt when he mentioned which body part he lusted after the most when it came to his ex wife. She forked more food into her mouth, shifting in her seat lightly. At his next statement she chuckled to herself “of course you do” she replied. “Why? Why does it matter?” She asked him. “You aren’t going to honor my wish, it’s in the hands of the man who will. Who might as well be his father considering how much more he tends to him over his… “ she stopped short looking him up and down. She chuckled again lightly to herself as she forked more food into her mouth. 

Nicholas looked up from his plate and stared across the expanse.  "I don't give a fuck about any of that. But thanks for setting up a Godfather for my kid. Considering you've already consigned yourself to death, it's a moot point. You should have spent more time wondering just who was  to play mother to our son. At least that seems to give you some sort of passion." 

Mercedes looked up at the man slowly, her smile falling, no longer seeing the amusement in the tit-for-tat now. Her chest rose and fell a few times before she moved to get up from the chair bitterly. Slamming the chair up against the table rattling the fine china as she moved to walk away fuming from the inside out. She bawled her fist tightly as she walked past Freddie, whom much like her husband she hadn’t spoken to either, moving for their bedroom. 

Nicholas turned his head nostrils flaring as he looked across the table.  Mercedes eye shown with the light of death.  Which amused him. At least they were giving off some kind of fight, this resolute bullshit, turning his stomach.  As she stormed off he stabbed his fork into another piece of meat, chewing it bitterly.  Sucking his teeth he stood, "tell me Freddie is my wife truly afraid.  Or is she seeking some kind of resolution? Cause I'm not actually sure." He said, throwing his napkin down on top of his plate. 

Freddie looked at Nicholas as he threw out an unexpected question at him, he watched the woman of the house depart from them. He knew he needed to follow her, wait and watch at her bedroom door. However he also knew he couldn’t not answer the man’s question considering the state the two were in right now. Not to mention his lovely boss just alluded to them having messed around to her husband. “Yes, she is,” he said seriously. “Afraid is an understatement.” 

Nicholas gazed towards the steps his wife had just ascended. His mind turning over and over the events of the last few days.  Which could he accept from his wife? Love or respect. Was it too much to want both? He heard Freddie through the haze of his own thoughts. "You believe that? Don't you? We will see." Nicholas wiped his mouth with a napkin and through it down on top of the unfinished meal. He left the room long legged strides carrying him quickly upstairs.

Freddie looked at the man as he replied with a very different response than he expected. When the man got up in hot pursuit, he licked his lips with a head shake. These two happened to turn out as two shit shows, which was not what he thought would pan out from the marriage at all. He moved to follow behind slowly. Mercedes moved for the bedroom and slammed the door so hard it echoed throughout the house and she growled angrily again to herself as she plopped down on their massive bed. “You know I really hate your father sometimes” she said speaking to their unborn. 

Nicholas pushed the door to their bedroom open, the hinges cracking light as he did. He snared looking down over Red's form. "Sometimes," He chuckled.  "That is an understatement." He moved deeper into the room and dropped down onto the bed. "I want to see the tapes. Please." He said, looking her directly in the face.  

Mercedes didn’t physically move as her husband joined her in the bedroom, dropping comments of which did not amuse her right now. As he sat down beside her she swallowed hard, shifting over and away from him. She didn’t say anything for a very long time, and then she decided to stand up. Moving for where she had hidden the tapes, which subsequently was closer to him than he thought. Getting onto her hands and knees which was quite the task, she pulled the box from under their bed and opened it. There was a stack of SD cards adorn in the same box all of their positive pregnancy tests lied. She licked her lips and pulled them out, moving to pick her laptop up off of the nightstand and opened it, connected the SD card to the computer before she handed it to him to press play wordlessly. 

Nicholas licked his lips, saying nothing for the long moment Red sat quietly.  The mental distance between so large, the physical distance she invoked didn't even register. He cracked his knuckles looking down at his hand.  Waiting. Finally she rose then turned back presenting him with a laptop. Rolling up right he looked at her face then down at the  camera as the video played. Frame after frame he watched her stammer through explaining then starting again. He didn't want to process the emotion but it was too visceral to overlook.  He paused the video and rose to his feet going to stand in front of the window. Guilt and pain tearing at him physically.   He sighed and watched nothing for nothing for too long a time. “I love my kid.” He said breaking the hard silence. “I’m selfish and I guess cruel. You love that child more than anything.  Understandable. But I love you that way. By not telling me any of this you’ve left yourself open to be taken away from me.” He said, dropping his head.  “I…” He uttered, lost for words. “I don’t know what I’m doing or how this feels.  My job is to protect you. I understand the need for these I suppose. But for the love of me why don’t you just tell me what I need to know?” 

Mercedes sat back down silently as Nicholas took the opportunity to listen to the records and watch them. When he paused the video and rose walking across the room she swiped a few tears away from her eyes, swallowing down her sadness. She made the videos, yes. But listening to them was still hard. As he spoke of their child and her current problem, she sighed softly to herself and turned her face away from him, swiping another tear from her eye. At his question she didn’t say anything in response to that. She was so upset and so angry, if only people around her thought about how she felt about all of this and how it made her feel. This wasn’t what she expected out of any of this, and she didn’t know how to fix it, not alone. Not without incorporating everyone and potentially causing them harm. She sniffled “I don’t know what you mean…” she said in a somber tone. “You’ve been so detached my entire pregnancy I just don’t think you get it” she said with a shrug. “And now it doesn’t matter…” 

“How?” Nicholas looked up at her.  “What was I supposed to do Mercedes? I don’t know and what I get from you is hotter than fire then colder than ice.” He said, taking care to ensure his voice was calm and patient. “We are all we have… Isn’t that what we promised. Then you don’t come to me.  You love me but you must not believe I love you the same way.” 

Mercedes looked at Nicholas as he continued to explain his feelings. “Honor my wishes for a change. Listen to me and grasp what I am telling you” she breathed simply. It was simplicit even if what she was asking him to grasp was extremely hard. “You promised me a lot of things,” she said with a slight chuckle. “I can’t fire off what you’ve kept outside of the marriage. I promised you love until death do us part. I never promised you that was 20 years from now or 60 years or even 2 days” she sighed. She shifted on the bed “the life you want to continue to partake in doesn't give us the freedom to be immortal. There is danger all around us” she breathed. “You don’t respect my wishes when I am a lion, or a sheep” she growled. “Weak or strong, you live to misunderstand every damn thing I tell you” she said as she blinked heavy tears out of her eyes. “I even now, insistently put you first. I don’t want you or Al, or Rebecca… anyone harmed. You didn’t create this problem I did. Al always told me my irrational need to kill everything that moves will eventually bite me in the ass” she said sniffled. “I’ve accepted that…” 

 “So” Nicholas retorted to every phase she uttered. Stepping closer to where she sat on the bed. He could not get a word in and could not rally against the fiercest on slot of truth. As she spoke the fear and pain in her face mixed with the undeniable love he knew she had for him and only. He gave way. "Okay!" He yelled.  "Okay." He said again, calming himself. "We'll leave." He said voice just above a whisper.

Mercedes looked at Nicholas as he moved closer to her on the bed. She licked her lips and looked up at his face moving to press her hands on either side of herself, shifting on the bed. She didn’t believe him, that was too easy. “You’d only renege later” she breathed just as rapid fire sounded off around the home, bullets hurling into the structure. 

Freddie who stood guard by the bedroom heard the loud yelling and screaming coming from downstairs. Instantly the house was laced with rapid bullets and he took off down the hall, grabbing an AK-47 he ran back in the opposite direction. He rushed down to the end of the steps before he ran back up them, on guard at the top of the steps as his heart pounded rapidly against his chest. “Fuck” he breathed. He stepped back slowly two steps as he stood waiting, hearing the near invasion of them home feet away. 

Nicholas' head was already shaking, plan as he may there were somethings that were trump moves.  This whole situation qualified.  He was about to say just that when a familiar sound of death split the air. He grabbed, pulling to her feet. He placed his body between her and the door. Drawing his side arm all in one motion.  Mouth hard as bullets rained in the distance.  "We gotta move." He said, pulling Mercedes behind. 

Mercedes' eyes grew wide as Nicholas tugged her to her feet, her fear drowned by the sounds of screaming and total chaos. Instantly her eyes were wet from tears she’d been right they were going to get her one way or the other. “Nicky” she squealed utterly petrified in the moment. As he said they needed to move she tried to follow behind him as quickly as her short legs and rounded belly would allow her. 

Nicholas was focused on one thing. Getting to his  closet. The custom build mirrored the opulence of his wife’s walk in. Cedar lined walls, shelves and drawers. Perfect. Everything from Hugo Boss to Scabal.  And the centerpiece was an accessory island that housed luxurie ties, watches, wallet, guns of course and sun glass. Currently that was the only place he wanted to get to.  The thought of calling for Freddie entered the fringes of his mind.  But no, right now the only thing they had working in their favor was misdirection.  At the door of the closet, he pushed Mercedes in before him, hands steadying her waist as he moved in the relative darkest with precision. Re holstering his gun, his finger reached out for the accessory island. He ran his hand down the side then  pulled the shades drawer open, fingers knowingly pressed down on the hidden button underneath the rim. Without a sound a suit lined wall began to slide open a streak of line spreading across the closet floor.   "Get inside!" He urged in a rough insistent whisper. 

 Mercedes moved with Nicholas to his closet, body hurling inside as he pushed her. She stood with him looking back behind them nervously, where was Freddie? What if everyone outside of them were dead? What were they going to do? As she looked back at her husband she called his name again “Nicky?” She said with a trembling lip. As he pushed her into the hidden panic room she looked at him with terror in her eyes, tears still falling. 

Nicholas could see his wife better now. Newer.  Most likely the best view he’d had of her since she became pregnant. Her ideal became crystal clear.  As if he should have gotten them this whole time.  He backed her into space. “You and our son will be fine.” He said eyes burning bright green fires. He touched her face, lightly, brushing away tears.  That only pissed him off more. He was tired of people fucking with his wife.   The room was stocked with food, water, and a back wall of guns and ammo that boarded on the obsessive.  He moved away from Mercedes with purpose drive steps. At the back wall, he grabbed the AK placing it around his neck and then pulled two Glock 17s with extra long magzines down. 

“Don’t leave me in here alone” she cried, she reached for him as he moved to grab weaponry. “Please,” she begged him not wanting to go and get himself killed in the midst. Her hand instinctively moved to her large stomach and she leaned against the wall feeling so helpless and scared. 

Freddie heard the sounds of heavy feet and he raised his gun higher aiming for the individual. He watched as David came running up the steps falling back against the wall near him. “It’s a bloodbath down there,” he said to Freddie. “I could only get a few staff to safety” he said out of breath. “But Freddie I can’t, I can’t do this-“ he stammered. “I can’t die like this, for what?” He said to him. Freddie continued to stand there on the edge of the steps waiting for anyone and everyone. “You took this job and vowed to do whatever it took to ensure their safety. And you will do just that. Until your dying breath” he said never looking at the man. “Get on guard” he commanded.

Nicholas turned, placing his forehead on Mercedes, “I’m coming back. You hear me? I’m coming back.”  With that he ran from the room. He took care to hit the button and replaced the trap door closing the draw.  The sound of bullets rang out louder now.  They were closer.He thought at the door to their bedroom. Nicholas readied the glock 17, and pulled the door open, stepping out into the darkened house, the glocks leading the way into the hall. He could see Freddie and another man… David, he thought. He was on them in a second, “how many? He asked, cooly not bothering to lower his weapons. 

Mercedes looked at Nicholas and swallowed hard at his words nodding her head and wiping her tears. “Okay” she said softly as the man ran off leaving her alone in the room. She didn’t even know this happened to be in the house, she tried to calm down as much as she could. Considering there was a mini war going on in her house she didn’t know how plausible that was. 

Freddie heard shuffling behind him and he looked back for a moment before he turned his eyes back to the stairs. With the command of an estimated count leaving Nicholas' lips he wondered where Mercedes was. “Forty of more” he breathed out in a calm voice to Nicholas. “Is she okay?” he asked him curiously. “We need to get her out of here” he said as he looked to David for a moment. 

“40 or more.” Nicholas nodded his head, not even registering the rest of Freddies questions. “Let move.  I’ll take the left, you two the right.” He looked down at the men now,  “Not a one of these mother fuckers are leaving here alive.  If one does...  Both of you better already be dead.”  Without another backwards glance. His eyes, already adjusted to the darkness, caught the slight movement of  bodies.  The flash of the glock lit up the hall like fireflies on a moonless night. If there were screams Nicholas didn’t hear them, he did register, great thuddes as bodies hit the floor. 

David looked at Freddie and then to Nicholas at his command “h-huh” he breathed softly. “We should call Al and get more soldiers over here” he breathed to them. 

Freddie looked at Nicholas and nodded his head moving as the man commanded him to. At David’s words Freddie looked at him and then to Nicholas, “you heard him,” he said knowingly. His eyes snapped back to the direction that Nicholas was firing at and he began to release rounds, moving down the steps one step at a time as he prepared to hit the bottom step where he knew there were far more bodies to rid them of.

Nicholas stepped over the three bodies that lay in his way now.  Issuing a bullet to the head of each he went.  Flash to the right, he began his descent.  Mixing the automatic firing of the Glock precision. He aimed for heads with each round..  “You come in to my house with this mother fucking bullshit! Come on!” he yelled with each round.  There was great advantage to having the high group and currently he and Freddie were using it to their advantage taking down men with ease. 

David looked at Freddie and Nicholas moving behind the men as they fired round after round, dropping bodies in their wake. David reached the landing with Freddie and he took off trying to find the nearest exit by them. 

Freddie reached the landing to see a wounded Pierce trying to hold his own weight. There were literally 4 men outside of David’s scary ass that was down stairs dying for Mercedes’ sake. Freddie watched David as he darted for an exit and he shook his head at the man. Wordlessly, he moved swiftly shooting at every moving thing he didn’t recognize, the poor staff members. Innocent people in all of this, whose lives were taken, that infuriated Freddie.   

Like fish in a barrel Nicholas shot man after man.  He caught one in the side of his head,  spattering, brain over the face of another. He only had time to touch the gore before he too was shot through the eye. Both landing on who looked to be the downstairs maid. Which only added to the fire raging him.  HIs people were dying.  In the midst of the commotion, David flashed into view, running.  It was the wrong time, and Nicholas was the wrong man. But he’d made the man a promise. He took the man in the back legs.  Fitting for such a coward.  Steel brushed across Nicholas’ cheek as he barely sidestepped the knife aiming at his throat.  He used the momentum to fall back hitting the wall hard, he raised the AK up from his chest pulling the trigger. Serval holes punched holes punctured the man's midsection.  Getting to his feet, Nicholas finished him with single shots to the face at point blank range.  As the room fell silent. 

Freddie took man for a man who was moments away from shooting Pierce in the head and he whipped around hearing David’s loud yell. He ignored him for now, knowing he all but deserved that from Nicholas. He fired off another rapid succession of bullets before he lowered the gun slightly. He still moved around the floor, checking around every corner slowly but swiftly. He wanted to make sure the bottom half was clear of all current enemies. He licked his lips slowly turning back around and despite his first attempt Pierce missed when trying to shoot whom they thought was the last intruder, causing Freddie to eat the bullet that was now lodged in his side. However Pierce didn’t miss the second time he shot and killed the man behind Freddie. 

David moved past flying bullets and falling bodies only to end up wounded anyhow. He fell against the floor yell out as he did, he shifted rolling on his side as he tried to figure out just where he’d been hit. 

Nicholas looked up to see the ragged assemblage of what was left of the household guard.  “This can’t be all of them.” He said, counting the bodies laid out. “We need to clear the rest of the house.” Nicholas picked his way through the bodies,  gun still at the ready moving towards the men, he stopped at David where he lay holding his leg. Nicholas spit directly in the man’s face. Death just might be too good for you.” He said flatly, sucking his teeth, “let me know when you find out.” With that he stood and pulled the trigger. “Anyone still able to move let check the grounds and the backstairs”.

Freddie tried not to groan out from the bullet wound he was sporting right now, when Nicholas commanded they moved he watched as Pierce slid to the ground. “Hang tight” he said to him seriously as he moved to walk outside checking the grounds of the home. Pushing through the discomfort and pain he was feeling as he bleed out. 

Dragging the older woman by her head of hair down the hallway, Viktor was on the hunt for Mercedes. He had a job to do and that was kill her by no circumstance could she live. “Where?” he barked at the older woman, who pointed at the double doors down the hall and he continued to pull her along. He held her up against the wall and he opened the door pushing it open. Seeing no one inside he shoved the woman into the room and after he did so he wrapped his arms around her head and neck snapping it before he let her body rest against the floor gently. When he was done with that he moved to the large closet and maneuvered his way to the little hidden room he knew she was in. Once the doors opened he looked inside to see her, heavily pregnant and he furrowed his brows. 

Mercedes waited impatiently for Nicholas to return, she was counting every second and minute he was away. What was happening down there? Was he still alive? How could she get out of the room? When the doors rolled open she looked “Nicky” she breathed softly only to see a taller man she'd never seen before. He had a machine gun and she froze, gazing at him like a deer in headlights before she looked down seeing the pool of bodily fluid covering the floor and her bare feet. 

Nicholas moved off alone. By choice.  His office held two bodies, both staff. It was almost funny to see the picture windows shattered.  At least this time it was his fault.  In the kitchen he found the cook who must have been surprised.  The was face down over the stove fitting.  In total that had to be five of the in house staff members.  The back door swung open, and Nicholas duck down behind the island looking at the newcomer through the legs of the cook. 3 pairs of men enter, cautious at first then bolder after discovering what they thought was empty space.  Nicholas gave himself to the count of 10 then sprayed, bullets tear way cloth and flesh all at once. He missed one. “Shit.” He barked and returned fire, filling the island with holes. “You want to tell me why you’re here?'' he asked, once the bullet stopped.  “Come on.. Pretty baby talk to me.  If you do, maybe i’ll let you live.” 

Viktor watched the woman’s water break in front of him and he moved quickly on his feet. “Abort mission” he breathed lifting his wrist “get out of here” he commanded anyone who was left. He went rushing bank into the direction he came in and exited the home. Going out back he jumped on his motorcycle, never mind the helmet as he zoomed around the large estate and down the road. He looked back to see one man in pursuit of him who easily gave up. 

Watching the two men before him drop like flies, ducking was his only choice at this point. He heard his voice but didn’t quite have time. They were told to abort and that’s exactly what he needed to do. He fired off a few more bullets towards the voice before he tried to dart through the house further only to be seen by another heavily armed man. “Look, the deed is done,” he said raising his hand defensively. He knew this guy, it was Red’s right hand. 

Mercedes looked back up at the man expecting him to do his job however he left. Left her with the door wide open and exposed, never mind the very serious issue that was still trickling down her thighs. When he was no longer in view she took a step back, too scared for so many reasons now that she had begun to cry again. 

Freddie walked around outside slowly, making sure he was watching his own back, sides, and front. He saw the Hummer’s there were 8 out front. Stepping over a body he moved for the backyard slowly, where he stumbled upon a man speeding off on a motorcycle. He turned around and tried to dart towards the front of the house however the man got away. “Shit” he said as he moved back into the house, quietly hearing bullets rang out. Moving slowly downstairs his heart pounded rapidly as he tried to decide within himself which was more important. Finding Mercedes or where the chaos was coming from. 

"We didn't come for you?" Said a deep voice with a heavily Russian. "We come to kill the black woman. Don't worry we'll be gentle when we find her.  Give her up and I'll let YOU live." Something burned on his body, but Nicholas shoved that thought to the back of his mind. "Nah," he said, tracking the man's movements by his voice. "You are in the wrong house." Wrong house!" [Abort mission] the radio cracked and the sudden invasion of unintended noise drew the gunmen attention. Opening.   Nicholas slid out from behind the cabinet and fired. Hot shells fountained from the gun cascading to the floor. There was no beauty or precision in the onslaught. Only death. 

Freddie eyed the man hearing his words and he fired multiple rounds into him. No more ammunition to use. He dropped the AK and picked up something nearby swiftly hearing shots fired once more. He moved in that direction, hun raised and cocked. “If there is anyone else in here” he breathed “I am going to kill you” he said as he moved for the kitchen. 

The rain of bullet casing ended with no more movement in the kitchen. Nicholas moved to stand and hissed. Something had grazed the meat of his thigh.  He did bother to even look at it as he moved to inspect the body's of the men. He reached down with no regard for the gore to pull the out the man's radio "Shit…" he said as the radio broke into pieces in his hand. 

Freddie entered the kitchen to see Nicholas and said “they said the deed is done, where is she?” All seriousness in his voice. He just knew she was dead, done for, he’s failed at his only life’s mission. He couldn’t believe it. “Someone got away on a bike…” he breathed. Lowering his gun finally at his side, he used his free hand to grip it. “He might have gotten to her… I don’t know…” 

Nicholas dropped low reaching for the gun on his side. Pointing the gun at the man's midsection. He exhaled with relief. "Freddie!" He rose to his feet, "that's impossible." He railed, yet already moving towards the stairs. There's no way.” 

As he commented that there was no way he sighed softly “I don’t know” Freddie told him rushing behind him as he moved for the stairs. “I tried to chase him down I swear”. 

Nicholas slipped his injured leg going out from under him as he vaulted the bodies on the land to the upstairs.  He caught himself on the banister stumbling to remain on his feet. Back on his feet he was in their bedroom sliding to halt in the doorway… the closet door was open. Not only that he light spilling out over the suits meant so was the safe room. He never even slowed, his small frame bolting through the safe room doors.  The look down finding Merecedes huddled on the floor crying he wrapped around her, hand tangled in her hair… too stunned to speak. 

Freddie moved behind Nicholas keeping up with his pace. Rushing towards the bedroom with the man and he gripped his gun tightly just in case it was an ambush. When they made it there he moved inside unknowing where the man was gone. When they moved in the closet he looked around the space and looked for some sight of blood. But he didn’t see anything out of the norm, until he looked at the floor. He gripped his side again “we have to get her to a hospital” he breathed to the man. 

Mercedes heard a nose and she lowered herself to the ground defensively, maybe the man changed his mind and came to kill her. As Nicholas came into the space and she cried a little harder, he hadn’t been killed thank God. He wrapped her up and she hugged him tightly, clinging on to him. Groaning softly, she gripped into his despite the comfort she was starting to feel sniffling hard. 

Nicholas held Mercedes hats against his chest.  Eyeing the ground where Freddie indicated. Squinting… understanding was slow to come but then came like a flash.  "The baby. Shit.  Baby" he said softly “can you walk?" 

Mercedes nodded her head at him “y-yes” she told her softly. “I thought he was going to kill me, and my water just broke, I didn’t know if anyone else was still alive...” she explained to the both of them. Her hand moved her rounded stomach. 

Freddie looked at Mercedes and Nicholas, after her explanation he nodded his head. “We can go through the garage, just in case” he said. “Come on,” he said, offering Mercedes his hand. “Let’s go, I’ll drive”. 

Nicholas rose steadying his wife as he did.  "How did they know where I hid you? ..." He whispered to himself. In disbelief. "What made them stop." He mused, holding his side as Freddie led the way. 

Mercedes grabbed Freddie’s hand and Nicholas' hand, holding them tightly as she moved to get up off the floor with their help. Once on her feet she walked alongside Nicholas holding onto him as they lived through the house. Her hand moved below her round belly, biting down on her lip. She released only to see the two of them bleeding. “Are you guys okay?” She asked them curiously. 

Freddie looked at Mercedes once she was on her feet, still looking her over gently. After he’d done so he loved forward maneuvering through the house with his gun raised and cocked to shoot if need be. “Don’t mind me” he said to her as they moved to where a car could be. 

Nicholas looked down at his leg, blood only trickled from it a little as they moved. “It’s nothing, a scratch.” He said, moving along with the group head on a permanent swivel.  “We get you to the hospital then everything will be right as rain.”  It wouldn’t be. Most of the house guards were dead or wounded.  He needed to speak to Al and quickly.

[lia-jones]

Growing Stronger - Chapter Thirty - Fifty Shades of Gold(man)

Author’s note: I have to say, I have tons of fun writing for this fic, but this was one of the chapters I had the most fun writing! This is an hommage to our dear assistant, always away from the spotlight, but with a sweet spot in our hearts! Thanks to @attackonmyself for the inspiration and incredible support, this project wouldn’t be the same without you!

It was 7 am when he arrived at LFG, his mind already busy listing all the things he had to do for work. And it was going to be a big day. He had to be the best he possibly could be.

“Good morning, Jeff.” He greeted the reception clerk.

“Good morning, Mr. Goldman. Is the boss going to be in a bad mood today?” Jeff joked. Although Goldman knew it was only half a joke.

“Not if I can help it!” Goldman smiled, feeling important. “Boss is waiting for a critical package today. Let me know as soon as it arrives.”

“Will do, Sir!” He heard the clerk say as he entered the elevator.

People say behind a great man there is always a great woman. Well, that’s because they never met his assistant. Some look at the assistant job as a menial one, playing maid while the CEOs do the big boy stuff. But the truth is, assistants are there so CEOs can be at the top of their game, and come home with a smile on their lips, perfectly relaxed. The way Goldman saw it, he should get two paychecks: one from Victor, and another from Andrea. He felt like their mother most of the time.

He quickly scanned the space as he got in the Financial Department. Victor was an observant man, and even a simple detail out of place would catch his attention and divert him from more pressing matters; in particular things he hated, like misplaced objects or uncleanliness. The floor was clean, the desks were spotless, the chairs were perfectly aligned with the computer keyboards and screens. Good. The cleaning lady was still there though. He looked at his watch. It was 7:05 am.

“Jody, you have ten minutes to leave. You know that if he sees you here he’ll start scolding the staff for being too messy.” Goldman warned.

“I know, Mr. Lee is always so considerate. I won’t burden him today, I’m leaving already.”

Goldman turned to Victor’s office, taking his key to open the door.

Step one, turn on the AC. The CEO felt like the cold temperature made him think clearly and sharp at all times, not to mention that he hated to perspire and would rather freeze than to feel his shirt wet, so the temperature of the room always had to be icy cold.

Step two, organize the reports by priority and then date. Victor hated things out of order and would function better in a particular one. Priority, then date.

Step three, make sure the CEO had a cup of steaming hot coffee on his desk. It had to be extremely hot, because the temperature of the room would make it cold too fast. Black, no sugar.

Step four, check the lighting. Victor liked the lighting in his room at a certain intensity, or else it would hurt his eyes after working on the computer for too long.

Step five, check if there was toilet paper, if the soap dispenser was full, if the towels were soft and clean.

Goldman checked his watch. 7:20 am. Some of the employees had already arrived and were chatting loudly in the coffee room. His phone signaled an incoming text.

He’s here.

Goldman goes to the corridor, raising his cellphone high.

“Got the text. He’s coming!”

Like an incredibly well-rehearsed team of dancers performing an intense choreography, everybody hastily took their place . Finishing their coffees in one big gulp, they went to their respective desks, turning on their computers and taking whatever documents they have to work on and putting them neatly by the keyboard. Goldman walked by, quickly inspecting the place, noticing a coffee mug on one of the desks.

“Coaster. Coaster!” He warns hurriedly. The employee promptly produces a coaster from the drawer. “And you better have that report I asked you for in 10 minutes, or he’s not going to like it!”

“Sure, Goldman.” The employee answers, already sending a document to print.

“Everybody, remember to put your phone on mute!” Goldman warned again, running to the elevator.

By the time he reached the elevator door, the Financial department was absent of chatter the only audible thing being soft strokes on keyboards and the ding of the elevator door opening. Out of it came Victor, minding his phone.

Schedule . That was what Goldman was expecting to hear. But he got something else instead.

“How big is a small wedding?” Victor asked, still tapping on his phone. Goldman looked over his shoulder, and instead of finding a report or the Financial Times in the CEO’s screen, he found… Flower arrangements?

“Excuse me, Sir?” Goldman paused, dumbfounded, as Victor continued walking alone. Not that he noticed.

“How big is a small wedding?” Victor insisted. “Fifty people? A hundred? Andrea says she would rather have a small wedding, but sometimes she is so vague…”

“I think around fifty people would be accurate, Sir.” He ran to the CEO, opening the door of his office for him. He was so distracted with his phone that he would probably have walked right into it.

“Understood. Now, does a small wedding include a string quartet? How big do you think the venue should be?” Victor asked again, taking off his suit jacket and handing it to Goldman. “It’s cold in here. How cold is that AC?”

Goldman took the AC remote, adding a few degrees to the temperature.

“Should I give you your schedule, Sir?” He asked as he hung the CEO’s jacket inside the closet.

“Right.” Victor put down his phone, paying attention to what Goldman had to say. “Also, stop calling me Sir. I was the best man at your wedding.”

“Sorry. Old habits die hard, I guess.” Goldman grabbed his tablet, ready to inform him all about the schedule.

“Andrea must need some help with the dress. Send a list of all our designer contacts to her.” Victor ordered.

“Right away. So, at nine am--” Goldman started.

“On second thought, call the designers and ask them to have a few designs ready for her, along with fabric samples. Then schedule a meeting for them and Andrea. On a weekday, after work hours. LFG conference room.”

“Absolutely. Like I was saying--”

“Oh, tell them by all means necessary they must not inform her of any costs. She must never know how much the dress will cost.”

Goldman sighed.

“Anything else, Sir?”

“No, go ahead.” Victor turned on his computer.

“Nine am sharp, meeting with the design team to approve the new LFG logo. Nine twenty, meeting with the financial department. Ten am, meeting with the account managers. The rest of your morning is free after that. In the afternoon we have a meeting with Cooper and Sons at two-thirty pm, and Loveland’s Mayor is here to talk to you at four. The reports you need for the Cooper meeting are on your desk, and I sent you the logo design to your email. Did you have a chance to see it?”

“Hmm.” Victor mumbled, his eyes stuck to the screen of his computer.

“Did you?” Goldman repeated, but the CEO didn’t answer. “Victor.”

“Yes, it’s nice.” Victor wasn’t very convincing.

“Shouldn’t you be discussing these wedding issues with Andrea? She’s the bride, after all.” Goldman frowned.

“The University wants her to publish at least some of her study before spring. There is a team in Germany on the same subject, they just found out.” Victor closed his laptop, taking the reports on his desk. “When do I have my meeting with the financial department?”

Goldman looked at his wristwatch. Ten minutes past eight.

“In fifty minutes.” He replied.

“Better get to work then.” Victor opened his laptop again. “Is Diane coming today? I need to talk to her.”

“She is coming later. I’ll let you know when she arrives.” Goldman offered, leaving the office and closing the door behind him.

As an assistant, it was his priority to give the CEO some space to do some financial magic, and Victor needed the solitude to focus. That day was very important to the company. Victor had spent months’ worth of meetings trying to buy off or at least fund Cooper and Sons, but it always fell through the cracks, for some reason. Well, in all honesty, the reason was plain to see, although no one would admit it: Jason Cooper and Victor Lee were both acting like stubborn old farts, butting heads instead of actually doing business. They had a natural ability to push each other’s buttons, and in each meeting, without exception, one of them would leave the table before negotiation could ever be done. This time, Victor swore to focus on the hardcore facts, and not let the old man get to him. He wasn’t going to give up on something for which he fought so hard for so long, but the situation was starting to wear him down.

Goldman went to the conference room, making sure everything was working perfectly, that the room was spotless, and that it was at the right temperature. Well, today a few degrees higher, because Victor had decided he liked the room warmer.

After a while, the members of the design team started arriving.

“How is he today? Bad mood?” One of them asked.

“He just got engaged. He’s getting laid on a daily basis. With Andrea.” Another employee bantered, before Goldman could answer. “He hasn’t been in a bad mood since then. She tames him.”

“Our CEO’s sexual activities are not watercooler gossip!” Goldman chastised. “But yeah, Andy’s a good influence on him.”

“I think I speak for all the men when I say any of us would love to be under her influence. Or on top.” The first employee wiggled his eyebrows at the second. “She may have a temper, but she’s hot.”

“Andrea is a remarkable woman and my friend, so you guys better watch it.” Goldman scolded them in a hushed tone. “Besides, that’s the kind of talk that will get you fired, so quit it.”

He looked at the watch. The CEO was five minutes late. Not like him at all. Maybe he needed some assistance.

He found Victor still working on his computer, trained eyes on the screen.

“Shall I inform the design team that you are going to be late?”

“Hmm?” Victor looked up from the screen, looked surprised to find Goldman there, until it apparently dawned on him. “Oh, the meeting. Coming right over.”

It wasn’t that the meetings didn’t go well. The meetings were productive, and the CEO managed to be somewhat present. But everyone could tell he was different, and that was making everybody nervous. He didn’t seem as focused as usual, like there was something else on his mind, and it was driving people crazy. And, obviously, Goldman was the one who had to instill some calm in the very worried employees.

“He’s selling LFG, isn’t he?” One of the members of the design team asked, during a coffee break. “It’s like he doesn’t care, he didn’t even criticize the logo, he just nodded. What does that nod mean, Goldman? Are we getting fired? Did he hate it and he’s hiring someone else to do my job?” The employee grabbed Goldman by the shoulders, shaking him. “Please, tell me, WHAT DOES IT MEAN?”

“Victor is not firing anyone, he just liked the logo.” Goldman didn’t want to disclose what was making his boss so preoccupied. “Come on, you complain when he scolds you, and you complain when he doesn’t?”

“Oh no, he’s acting weird.” Cindy chimed in. “Yesterday I presented a report, and he found some mistakes. I was expecting a lecture, instead he just took the report and wrote some notes, told me to change it. I got so nervous I started crying.”

“Not your best moment, Cindy.” Goldman glared at her, remembering Victor had to call him to calm her down.

“Oh and I haven’t got to the really weird part.” She spoke again, her eyes dramatically wide. “When I started crying he got all weird and came to me. He started patting me in the head and saying There, there…”

“That is weird.” Another employee commented. “Something’s wrong. Definitely.”

“Ok, let’s all calm down.” Goldman put his hands up, trying to get everyone’s attention. “As you know, he is getting married, he’s been a little preoccupied, that’s all. Your jobs are not in jeopardy. Just do your work as usual, and I’m pretty sure he’ll get back to his old self soon.”

The answer seemed to please the staff, as most of them knew Andrea from the time she worked there, and found it plausible that she would have some influence in the normally overbearing CEO. Still, Goldman had to mention this to the CEO. He couldn’t afford to have his staff running around like headless chickens. The matter was how to bring the subject up. Perhaps after lunch, when the CEO was given some time to relax.

It was a good idea, in theory, but the reality was much different. As Goldman prepared himself to knock on the CEO’s office door, he overheard him talking, probably on the phone.

“A million and a half is not that much, I can make that in a day… (pause) Andrea… It is nothing, compared to how much you mean to me. (pause) I wouldn’t allow you to have a cheaper ring. You are my future wife, I want you to have the very best. (pause) No, you cannot have a replica. (pause) No. (pause) Absolutely not. (pause) We’ll discuss it over dinner. I love you. Goodbye. (pause) Ugh, that woman!”

Nope, Goldman thought, not getting myself into that. He decided to turn and leave when he heard Victor call him. Bullocks.

“You called, Sir?”

“Yes. Remind me of my afternoon schedule again.” Victor frowned as he looked at his computer screen.

At least the boss was back in business, not wanting to talk about weddings.

“Two-thirty, Cooper and Sons. The Mayor at four.” Goldman informed him with a smile.

“I do not have the patience to deal with that man today.” Victor grunted.

“Should I reschedule?”

“Reschedule with the Mayor. You’ll handle Cooper for me.”

“ME, SIR??” Goldman couldn’t help raising the tone of his voice. He would talk to Cooper instead of the CEO? That had never happened in the 8 years he spent working for Victor. Victor never delegated, especially in such important matters.

“Who do you think will replace me when I’m on my honeymoon?” Victor smiled. “Speaking of which, I was thinking Bali, maybe also Morrocco. Do you think Andrea will like it?” He returned to his computer to search for honeymoon destinations.

“Sir, I cannot in good conscience accept to go-” Goldman tried to divert the subject back to more pressing matters.

“Diane told her about the ring. She’s afraid to lose it, she wants a replica. Do you think she didn’t like it? She’s not handling the money issue very well.” The CEO looked sad, all of a sudden.

Goldman sighed, conceding he would have to talk about the wedding once again.

“It’s normal that Andrea feels a little…uncomfortable with such luxury. But in the end, she will see that no matter how much you have, you’re still you. Besides, brides always get nervous for whatever reason. I remember when I was getting married, Diane was insufferable.” Goldman smiled, as he remembered.

“Andrea called her Bridezilla.” Victor chuckled. “You are right, this is probably just wedding jitters. Besides, she is under a lot of pressure at work, it’s normal she would lash out a little. I will deal with her temper and give her the wedding she deserves... Even if she opposes it at first, she will be happy when she sees the result.”

“Sir, about the meeting with Cooper…” Goldman tried again.

“Right, it’s almost time. Don’t let me keep you. Good luck.” And with that, the CEO retreated to himself, ignoring Goldman completely.

If anything, he was prepared, he pondered as he walked into the room. He had spent numerous hours discussing the matter with the CEO, reading every report, attending every meeting for that purpose. And surprisingly, Mr. Cooper welcomed his presence and was willing to listen, commenting every now and then how Victor was an ass--difficult person. The meeting ended in the best terms possible, and Goldman achieved the unthinkable. Not only were they funding Cooper and Sons, the set terms were incredibly beneficial to LFG.

The assistant practically danced all the way to the CEO’s office. Victor would be so incredibly proud of him. He could already hear him praise him: Good job, Goldman. LFG will be in the best hands.

To his surprise, Victor was in an incredibly good mood…bantering with his wife.

“Bernard Meer. He’s the one you have to get. He planned the wedding for the Princess of Sweden. Very solicited. Apparently very hard to get.” Diane bantered with a very engaged Victor, showing him one of her gossip magazines. “Look at this banquet room. It’s magical.”

“He does have good taste.” Victor analyzed the picture meticulously. “The tables look exquisite. Do you think Andrea would like it?”

“Who wouldn’t?” Diane gasped. “It’s a fairytale come true. And we both know, she is all tough on the outside, but deep down she’s just a dreamy little girl like the rest of us. I’m sure she will love it.”

“Then it’s settled.” Victor closed the magazine with resolve and turned to Goldman. “Get in touch with this wedding planner. Schedule a meeting with him as soon as possible.”

“And the date, is it still going to be March 21st?” Diane spoke, taking Victor’s attention again. “It is a great season for flowers! You’ll have peonies, tulips, hyacinths…”

“Yes, the flowers will be in bloom, which is great for scenery and pictures.” Victor bantered, excited. “Andrea loves nature, so it’s the perfect time without having to deal with the very hot weather.”

“Sir, about the meeting…” Goldman tried to divert Victor’s attention again to work. To this incredible work with Cooper and Sons.

“With the planner, yes. As soon as possible. If you have to reschedule something to make time for him, do it. The planner is your top priority.” Victor quickly dismissed him with his hand, looking at the pictures on the magazine again.

Top priority, right. Goldman left the room with a sigh. Now that he was finally able to prove his worth to his idol, he was too busy to notice. He quickly wrote a report of that meeting and sent it to Victor’s email, already knowing he wouldn’t read it. Then, he started making some phone calls, trying to get a hold of that planner.

It was easier to catch water with a sift than to get in touch with that man. He wasn’t taking calls or clients, for that matter. No matter how much Goldman would drop Victor’s name. The wedding planner was unavailable.

He wouldn’t relent, however. His boss had requested that Bernard fellow, and he would get him. If he couldn’t show diligence with his fabulous entrepreneurial work, he would do it with some outstanding assistant work. He would achieve the impossible. He would get what Victor wanted, and Victor would be proud.

All he needed was a different approach. And he knew exactly the person that could help him. The CEO would forgive him, but there was no greater genius mastermind in the entire planet than his loving wife, Diane. After all, Victor would have to thank her for getting married in the first place. She would know what to do.

When he finally found her, he noticed she was already busy talking with someone on the phone, probably a client. He started to walk away, not wanting to disturb her work. At least someone was taking her job seriously today. That is, until he heard a little of the conversation.

“Come on, Andy, cut him some slack! You should have seen him, so engaged in planning your wedding… And the way his eyes sparkle and his tone softens when he says your name… So cute.”

“Is that Andrea on the phone?” Goldman asked, seeing red.

“Yes. Do you need anything?” Diane asked, innocently.

“Hand me the phone.” He demanded with gritted teeth. Diane immediately obliged.

“Ok, I don’t have much time to spare, so I need you to listen to me very carefully.” He heard a confused OK on the other side of the line, and continued. “If it’s not too much to ask, will you please take a moment out of your very busy life to sit down with your fiancé AND PLAN YOUR DAMN WEDDING? It’s your wedding, not mine. I HAVE A DEGREE IN ECONOMICS, I AM NOT A WEDDING PLANNER!  Also, the ring you refuse to wear took three months to pick and numerous trips to thirty exclusive jewelry stores! Victor was completely obsessed with finding the perfect ring, it was all he would talk about. I HAVE NIGHTMARES STARRING YOUR RING! You won’t lose it and nobody will steal it from you, but even if they do, it’s insured! SO JUST STOP COMPLAINING AND WEAR THE DAMN THING!” He paused, and it dawned on him that he had been screaming at Andrea, who was not only his friend, but also his boss’s future wife. She remained silent, probably in shock over his outburst. “And congratulations on your recent engagement. Best wishes to the happy couple, please don’t tell Victor I yelled at you.”

He gave the phone back to Diane, who was looking at him in shock, mouth wide open. Time to try to get the planner again, Goldman thought, with a sigh. He just wanted the day to be over. Even though he was happy for his boss, Victor was clearly letting his personal life slip into his professional one, and it was bound to affect results. Of course, he knew his boss wasn’t a machine, even though most times he worked with the efficiency of one.

And then it hit him. Of course! Personal life! Goldman had been worried about getting through the wedding planner through professional means, he had never considered the more personal ones. Highly unethical, but great tasks require unorthodox measures. He started calling his contacts and calling a few favors, when he found his gateway to the wedding planner: Bernard and Victor frequented the same hairstylist.

He was already on his way home when he called the stylist, Diane by his side driving and listening in the conversation. The guy was just going to the salon, and would call back when he arrived with the planner's personal contact, provided Goldman would promise he would try to have him and his team as stylists at the wedding.

“Victor really made you run for your money this time, didn’t he?” Diane asked, seeing him all flustered.

“And then some.” Goldman tried to rub the stress and exhaustion from his face.

“Don’t worry, our day will end on a sweet note. I have some very good news.” Diane beamed at him, while she parked the car in front of their building.

“I do need some good news.” Goldman heard his cell phone ring. “Oh wait, let me take this.”

The stylist was chatting his ear off, and while Goldman knew he had to be polite and listen, he just wanted the goddamn number already. He ran around the apartment, looking for a piece of paper and a pen, frustrated that he would always have those items at hand, laying around, except when he really needed them. Finally, he found some post-its and a weirdly shaped marker, that should do.

“Ok, you can give me the number now.” He took the cap off the marker and tried to write with it, but it wouldn’t work. “Crap! Just something work already!” He whispered in frustration. Diane gave him another pen. “Ok, go now. Two, four, four…” He scribbled the number on the post it. “Got it! Thank you very much. The CEO will be happy to hear of your help.”

Goldman felt himself relax when he looked at the piece of paper. He had done it. All he had to do now is call the guy in the morning and convince him to meet Victor. And the client being Victor, it wouldn’t be very hard.

His phone beeped and he looked at the screen. It was a text message from the CEO himself. Probably to know if Goldman was able to get him what he wanted. He sighed, opening the text. It read: Excellent work with Cooper and Sons. My trust was not misplaced.

Goldman let himself get inebriated with the sweet taste of victory. He had done it. HE HAD DONE IT! This day couldn’t possibly get any better!

Diane approached him, with a knowing smile on her face, and handed him the malfunctioning pen again.

“Just throw it in the trash, honey, it doesn’t…” He trailed off, staring at his hand, not believing his own eyes. It wasn’t a pen, after all. It was a pregnancy test. She hugged him and spoke softly to him.

“Congratulations! You’re going to be a daddy.”

Oh boy.

[heykillmongerluhme]

Meet Me In The Breakroom

Erik Stevens x OC Reader

I N S P O: I had a daydream about this the other day, plus I’m being a Filthy McNasty now; Need to get my creative sauce back up

N O T E: Read while alone hehe or be a filthy McNasty like me and react all loud; Could listen to I Wanna Sex You Up x Color Me Badd

W A R N: Smut

T R I G G E R: None

W O R D: 3.9k

“Let’s get down to brass tax here” Mr. Whittington, CEO, said abruptly through your presentation “What is it going to cost me?”

The room, including yourself, fell into laughter as you clicked through the next three slides heading towards the graph indicating cost. This was the presentation that you had been preparing for. The company was going down for being too old fashioned and targeting the older demographic and they needed a fresh new perspective. Mr. Whittington himself called you to be lead on the project, promising you a spot for VP of Communications. You were beyond excited because since you stepped foot into that office, it has been your goal to eventually lead a department for the firm.

“Roughly, we estimate the cost to be around $532,000 but profit would be projected to” you dragged out as you clicked out to the next slide “$1.7 million”. Low audibles of gasps surrounded the room and smiles from your team shone to you.

“And how do you suppose we are to receive those funds?” he interjected the elevating atmosphere. Erik Stevens. It just seemed like he had a vendetta against you, every idea you had, even if it was great. He just always had something to say. Something to ask, just something to nitpick at. Maybe because you were the only other younger, black executive on the team. He was the “star” before you came along and he really didn’t care for it.

“Well, Mr. Stevens” you kept a tight smile but your eyes were burning him “We still have leftover funds from our charity raised last month, I have compiled 5 different investors, even those relationships that were lost” the shade that was thrown from you to him. No one really likes to bring up the 2017 investors meeting, that was not one of Erik’s best moments.

Eyes roamed between you and him trying to see who was going to fight back first. The office knew that you two were in competition with one another and that tensions were high. His jaw clicked before you watched his thick tongue cover the plump bottom lip before it tucked in anger.

“Any other questions?” You called out to the room and no responses availed to you.

“Great job, Y/N!” Mr. Whittington clapped before standing to his feet. The room followed suit as you stood proudly. Shoulders back, chest forward, and head held high. A reluctant Erik stood up last as you looked at others directly. A smile on your face and grimace on his.

x x x

“I can’t believe that Mr. W is going to name you VP!” your coworker gleamed as you guys brought in the remaining materials.

“We have to wait and see” you calmly reminded her “It is between Erik and me, and he has a longer track record than me”

“So! He’s been here for how long and only has been promoted once. Besides ever since the fuck up in 2017, Mr. W is making sure that he is monitored. Who knows, he might be in your department” the brunette bounced before placing down the rest of your materials.

“Thank you” you mentioned breathlessly before pushing your curls out of your face “Who knows, but I am completely starving and I am about to head to lunch. Do you want anything?”

Shaking her head ‘No’, she opened the screen on her phone before stepping out of your office. You took a well needed to exhale before preparing for the next half of your day. Meeting after meeting after meeting. You already knew that caffeine was in your calling, so before you decided to leave campus for lunch. You needed your third installment of coffee.

x x x

With the company being as prominent as it is, it created a break floor for all their employees. It was implemented that current year but not a lot of individuals wanted to use it. Due to the comfort of their own break rooms or they simply did not know about it.

However, it had become a sanctuary for you. Some days you had the whole floor to yourself, like today. It just seemed like the universe was working in your favor all day. First, you killed your presentation that you finished to the brim of the minute before the meeting. Next, Mr. W is making more hints for your promotion. Then, You had this break room floor to yourself to unwind from the first half of the day. And lastly, you finally had your chance to embarrass Erik. Today was beginning to look like the best day ever. It was shortly interrupted when you heard the blaring of a rap song come around the corner and the clicks of loafers followed suit. Annoyance grew in your body because you just wanted to be quiet. You still had your back turn as you pressed the brewer to begin the making of French Vanilla coffee. The scent, you knew anywhere. His Calvin Klein cologne invaded your nose before you could even turn around.

Erik looked up from the tweet that he was going to send before seeing you stand at the machine. His chocolate orbs danced across your heels, leading up to your curvy calves that connected to your holdable hips. He may not have liked you as a coworker but he couldn’t help that he was a man. He definitely found you attractive. As you did him. However, y’all pride and the race to be successful in the company got in the way of seeing each other as you really wanted to.

“So, you kissed the bosses’ ass today?” his banter began as he stood beside you, shoulder to shoulder. Your eyes focused on the machine, not really paying attention to anything that was going on. You just didn’t want to look at that handsome face. That really bothered you, that you found the one person that you could not stand in the entire office to be the one that you would throw your juices too.

He sucked his teeth when he did not get a reaction and began to prepare himself a cup of coffee as well. Knowing one way to get you to react, he smirked to himself before stating “Those pretty ass lips must be good for something then”

Your head snapped in his direction as he tried his best to keep his excitement to himself. He was always so vulgar and you hated that you loved it. Trying to keep your professionalism, your eyes lowered “Keep those nasty ass comments to yourself, clown”

His head had thrown back as he laughed. It was like you were trying to hide the fact that you were affected by what he said. He turned his body towards you, keeping his eyes to scan over the top half of your body now. The beautiful mane of afro-curls down to your illuminating face, it connected to a gorgeous neck that exposed your robust chest. He couldn’t help himself but his eyes stayed stagnant.

“My face is up here” you reminded him sharply while you examined his lustful look. The curves of his face that lead to the plumpness of his lips drove your imagination wild. You tried so hard to not dig deeper into your fantasy but it has been a bit of a minute before you felt a penetrating warmth between your legs. So anything was liable to turn you on, even your sworn enemy. Your eyes decorated along with the blue striped colored button-down he wore that day. You could see that he was active in the gym, due to the strength his upper body displayed.

Catching you doing the same dance he was doing “My face is up here” he mocked you. Snapping back to reality, an eye roll followed suit before hearing the beep of the machine go off indicating that your coffee was ready. Erik needed the coffee and you needed the additives, which were on the opposite side. You realized that you guys had to actually cross paths. “Excuse me” you stated before making your way sidestepping to the condiments table. Erik obliged but being a man, and who he was, he stepped back with just a bit of small space allowing you to step in front of him. He was not slick as he wanted to be, in reality, he wasn’t even trying to be slick at this point. You walked in front of him but not before he pressed his lower half against you, taking his hand to the small of your back guiding you to move. Electricity ran up your spine as breathy shudder fell from your lips. You tried to contain it but he heard you.

Erik turned his head to you before scanning you once more and it didn’t help that your pencil skirt showed off your shape. “Why you be so bitter all the time?” he asked breaking the growing tension between you.

“Excuse me?!” you asked while concentrating on your coffee, getting it to the way you like. You blew along with the hot contents before taking a sip of the sweet, warm liquid. “I am not bitter, I just don’t like when men have hissy fits because a woman is in power and have just as much, or maybe even more, hold as them”

“Nah, that ain’t it” he dismissed, pressing the button for a brew while he looked at you. His eyes now dark, his voice in baritone, and heat of his body closing in on yours. “I think it’s because” he started as he stepped forward and without thought, you stepped back, literally backed into a corner “You ain’t got nobody hitting it right”

How could you be so disgusted but turned on at the same time? Only you would know but it seemed like Erik knew it too. His frame towered yours, though you had on heels, you were still relatively under him. Your throat dry, you cleared before placing your coffee down “I-I do have someone ‘hitting’ it thank you” you lied. Hoping that would have him back off but it only engaged him more. Dammit.

“You ain’t hear me? I said hitting it right. Don’t give a fuck if someone is hitting it or not if they ain’ t doing it right? They ain’t doing it at all” Erik informed you. You wanted to melt right in front of him. Breath staggered, the background noise of coffee pouring surrounded you two before the unthinkable happens.

His powerful lips covered yours, a yelp leaped from you between your lips. Your hands raised to slap him before it lowered slowly once the connected kiss between you two began to reign supreme. You have been thinking about this moment for quite a while, frankly. So did Erik. Once he knew that you were not resisting, his kisses became hungrier as he tried to fill your mouth. Erik’s large hands ran down your waist, taking a nice hold of them before he mounted you up against the wall. Taking your left leg to rest on his hip, he grinded into you. The friction of his dress pants against you caused you to squirm. This would happen on the day that you decided not to wear panties.

“Oh? You a freak, too?” Erik smiled playfully on your lips before taking an intense grip on your thigh. Now there was no need for modesty, you smirked back into his lips before kissing him back.

“There is a lot that you don’t know about me, Mr. Stevens” a subtle moan left you feeling him grind against you again. He groaned back into your mouth as his unoccupied hand, drew his fingertip up your inner thighs to you waiting center.

“You keep calling me Mr. Stevens, you going to be in a world of trouble” he warned before biting your bottom lip popping it back.

“Mr. Stevens” you enticed seductively.

He warned you, but you didn’t listen. Erik’s callused fingers drew along your throbbing clit before drawing it down your lips to your hole. One finger, he dipped into the pot as he felt your wetness beginning to build. He smiled knowing that you were just as much into it as he was. Two fingers, now drawn into you as he began to slowly pump it back it and forth. Your eyes fluttered with mouth agape feeling the fingers enter you without warning. Erik has been wanting this since the moment he had laid eyes on you. He knew that you were strong, independent, level-headed but he wanted to see you vulnerable, submissive, illogical. He knew he couldn’t do it that way my work, so why not through pleasure. However, with that being his first agenda, it changed once he actually saw the look on your face. How you rhythmically moved with him, how your face contorted to pleasure as he continues to play with your ridge walls.

“Oh..” you moaned out taking your gel tipped nails along his shoulder.

By the moment, he had you completely in his care and you did not want to combat him. Erik’s coated fingers drew up your lips in a ‘V’ fashion before keeping his eyes on yours, taking them in his mouth. He was a freak just like you, however, you did not want to reveal all your dirty little kinks. Even if it was in the office break room. Once again, his fingers found his way back to the place that they had become familiar with. Now completely covered in his saliva, the battle on your clit had become one that you were not prepared for. His fingers drew quick circles on your hardening clit, as you felt your walls pulsate as if you contracting on the imaginary dick inside of you. An echoed yelp left you before he plunged his fingers into your honey pot again, realizing where you were, you tucked in your lip resting your head back along the wall, completely falling victim to Erik’s fingers.

His grip on your thigh became tighter, as your walls became the same. It was if he was matching your journey to orgasm.

“Haa..” you moaned as you reached your peak, hearing the slapping of your wetness between his fingers and your coated opening. “Mmm,” he followed before kissing you loosening his grip on your thigh. 

You grinded along with his fingers, not feeling satisfied with the orgasm and Erik’s rod immediately jumped in his dress pants. You kept your eyes on him, wrapping your hands around his neck locking your fingers. You continue to ride on his fingers, showing him that you can still be dominate, even if he was trying to please you. You knew his angle and feeling bad about embarrassing him in the meeting, you allowed him to take control. This time. Moving your hips up and down his fingers, Erik’s bottom lip hangs down as you guys’ eyes locked in time. Panting on your end and lust on his, you croaked out another moan while still keeping your eyes locked on him and Erik smirked at how you took yourself there.

“Damn, Y/N” he congratulated you.

He wanted you now and you needed him. He dropped you down, making sure that you landed on your heels correctly. A gentleman of sorts. However, within a flash, Erik knew that it was his turn to take control and he did just that. Turning you around, his grip that was on your thigh made its way to the bottom of your skirt hiking it all the way to your waist, exposing your brown, round, ass. His eyes were mesmerized and his mind was filled with the various positions he wanted to twist you in. However, the lunch break was only for an hour. Hearing the clacking of the belt buckle, turned you on as you looked over your shoulder peeking to see what he was working with.

Erik’s dark laugh surrounded you as he started to bring his pants along with his briefs down “You tryna get a peek huh?” Being as nasty as you wanted to be, you nodded a pleasing ‘Yes’ before your eyes dropped down to his package. Your mouth watered as you saw his length spring into action. “Fuck..” you whispered to herself in awe, your pussy began to form more wetness waiting for him to enter.

“You a big girl, huh Y/N?’ Erik asked sweetly as he drew your curls over your shoulder, taking the base of his head, teasing it up to your lips to your clit. A few taps before sliding it up and down teasing again.

“Hmm..” you moaned to the touch of his warm shaft going up and down. Your right leg stood but trembled as you waited for him to enter.

“I need you to speak, baby. I asked if you were a big girl?” Erik’s now quivering head waiting to enter you. He was dying from the teasing just as much as you were, but both of you not wanting to give up first. The whole dynamic of y’all relationship.

“Yes, Mr. Stevens. I’mma big girl” you moaned out feeling his head touched your hole. With that statement finished, he guided his stiff inside of you causing your head to hang low and his drawback.

“Fuck..” he groaned to your tightness, it was one thing with his fingers but feeling you around himself, he had to think of the scenery you guys were in to not bust quickly. He was a ladies man and he was very much into the ladies. He knew good pussy when he felt it. And baby, you were the platinum record to all the other records he kept.

It was if you both were confused about how good it felt that he just stood inside of you catching his breath, then he began his rhythm. Erik being the freak that he was, watched as his member pumped in and out of you. The glistening of your juice caused him to watch in awe, letting him continue to thrust inside of you. Your hand palmed on the wall and gripped along the counter as he began to rough his strokes. Rolling of moans covered your lips while Erik concentrated on his movements. The clapping of your ass crowded the entire floor and the symphony of your moans and his groans mixed followed up.

“Oh..fuck..Erik!” you whined aiding in the movements that Erik was destroying you with.

You kept your back arched and began throwing it back on him. Something that other women didn’t do, that Erik loved. They would always want him to do all the work.

He stood back and watched you go to work. He curved his hips to get your spot and by the scream of his name, he did just that. He kept his length right at your spot as you stopped throwing it back due to him grazing over it.

Eyebrows furrowed, he took his hand and a ‘SLAM’ covered your ass causing your freaky ass to whine out. “I ain’t say stop! You a big girl” he gritted throwing his hips directly back at your spot “You gon’ take this big dick, c’mon” ‘CLAP’ on your ass again.

The stinging turned you on as you continued to throw your hips back, your goal was to grab every inch of Erik inside of you. You reached that goal with the sliding of your walls falling down and the growing orgasm building up inside you. One you don’t think that you can handle or ever had experience before. Moaning again, you stopped feeling weak of how much of his dick is causing you to crash. Smirking that he has you now totally under his control, he slammed inside you once again. Dropping his callused hand to your hips, he gripped tightly and threw you back on him as he pumped in you. Different shapes filled your eyes, what felt like helium clouded your brain, and pressure that felt like a pipe bursting filled your body.

“Oh-Oh my G–” you almost belted out before he took your throat beneath his hand. He was growing close to, based on how quick his strokes were growing. The first orgasm ran through your body as you felt the literal cream leaving you onto Erik’s dick and down your lips, to your hard quivering clit.

“Mmmhm..that’s it” he coached “I know you got another one, Y/N” he groaned keeping his grip on your throat, tight but lustful. It was true, another one was building and now your body was completely under the control of Erik as you came again. Both of your movements became faster as you began to not give a fuck if someone heard y’all or shit, even if they saw you. You wouldn’t care until both of y’all nuts were finished. Groaning as he grew to close, he pulled out his throb and spilled himself on both of your cheeks.

“Fuckk..” Erik moaned as he squeezed out what seemed like a pint of cum onto your ass. Adrenaline coming down, both your panting bodies and itches scratched. You remember where you were and who you were with. Feeling a mixture of hate but lust, covered you as you turned around seeing a spent Erik. An ended kiss shared between the both of you before you snapped back to reality pushing him back, causing him to almost trip over his pants wrapped around his ankles.

“This never happened” you warned, grabbing the hard brown napkins cleaning off your cheeks before pulling down your skirt.

Erik’s licked lips shown before a smile “You got my word”

x x x

It has been two weeks since you and Erik’s escapade. Since that afternoon, you never stopped flashing back to the moment. You never came like that before. You never had public sex. It was like all of your first was being pushed by him. Since then, he has not talked to you. Not even an insult was thrown your way. You knew that you told him that “it never happened” but you went to the break room every day. You would wait for your whole break, just to see if he would show up to ignore you. But each day, you were left alone. Guess it was just a fling.

“And here, this is where our Communications department is and the VP office will be there” you heard Erik’s voice crowd the hall before approaching your office. It was normal for him to be the tour guide of the company to different partners and investors, hearing him approaching with the traditional speech you fixed your appearance just to look good to see if he would see you. Every day, you tried to go out of your way to look good but to no avail, he did not even look your way. It didn’t help that you guys' office was across from one another.

Perking up, he looked in the office and then looked forward as he began the other part of the tour “And over here is where..”

For real? You just huffed at defeat once more as you sat back going back to the project at hand. Moments had passed and it was closing into lunch. You sat back in your swivel chair and was disrupted with a chime from your phone, your heart began racing once you saw the message.

Erik: You think I ain’t noticing.. I’m tryna keep cool but today, fuck that. 5 mins. Meet me in the breakroom..

And guess what you were doing for your lunch break? Meeting him in the break room.

x x x

I hope y’all like it! I haven’t written smut in awhiiiiiile, just been trying to get back on the wagon. It will get better. Just a short for y’all McNasties :)

[sasuhinasno1fan]

Finding Fire Fang- Klance Month Week 1

So part of me is really terrified to upload this because the last time I posted a story with prompts from @monthlyklance which was so not their fault, it didn’t get a lot of love and I’m terriffied my writing has gotten worse so we’re gonna hope I’m proved wrong. Since there’s 2 prompts per week I decided to try writing two stories that went with it. The connecting one to this will come at the end of this week. The outfits come from @aku-usagi video game au because I was trying to think of extra outfits and their au came to mind. Not a whole lot of klance in here, but hopefully the next story will have lots. Enjoy. Dawn/Trust

Lance pulled the red scarf tighter around him. It wasn’t very wide, but seeing how his outfit included a massive keyhole back and two openings at the front, not to mention being sleeveless, the scarf helped ward off the early morning cold.

“Here.” Lance looked up at the man with cat ears and tail the same black as his hair. His face was mostly covered with a metal looking face mask and while his clothing looser than Lance’s, he knew he wouldn’t be nearly as cold.

“Thanks. Did you heat this up?” he asked, taking the warm can of coffee.

“That’s a waste of using my power.”

“And using it to set fire to buildings isn’t?”

Lance ignored the glare as he opened the can and took a small sip of the drink, humming as the warmness seemed to spread throughout his body.

Hanging out with the same villain he’d been chasing around last night wasn’t exactly his idea of how he would spend his morning, but granted, he’d never been out this late.

Lance always had control over water. He loved Avatar: The Last Airbender because they seemed just like him. He knew from a young ago however that he wouldn’t be as widely accepted as the show. Hiding his power was easy but when he moved to Japan to work as a translator in a company, he didn’t realise he’d become a hero at night. The guy sitting next to him, Fire Fang – which was a stupid name in is opinion, seeing how he never took that stupid mask off – was known for setting fire to certain buildings that belonged to the Galra Industries company, the same one Lance worked for. He tended to steal things from them in the midsts of the confusion. The first time it happened, he actually hit the building Lance worked at. He was working late and before he knew it, he heard glass shattering and the room getting hot with the fire alarm going off. It was just instinct to use his powers to douse the flames and control the fire. After that, after contacting a online builder to make his outfit. Waterproof but still allowed the water he could control move easily off of it. Long overcoat to hide the containers of water he carried with him, along with a few other gadgets. The excessive amount of exposed skin was what he got for leaving the design up to the guy. He did like the scale patterned cloth used. It probably contributed to what the newspapers were calling him, Ryujin, after the water dragon.

The latest battle had dragged on. Another person, who called himself Prince, had been attacking Fire Fang all night. Seeing how Prince had been attacking a shipping centre owned by Altea Corp, Lance decided maybe he should help Fire Fang. Which lead to Fang offering a warm drink in the early morning light. Usually Lance would call it a night at 1 am, knowing Fire Fang didn’t attack on most nights, but this fight went on until Prince got away in the early morning, as the sky started going from black to the barest light. Knowing it was nearing when he’d have to start waking up anyway, Lance said yes to when he was offered the coffee. he’d still been surprised when the red scarf was pressed into his hands when he mentioned how cold he was.

“I don’t usually see the sunrise unless I’m pulling an all nighter. It’s a nice break.” Fang said, rolling the can between his hands. Guess he didn’t want to take the chance of Lance seeing his whole face.

“I’ve never actually watched the sunrise before.” Lance said.

“What?”

Lance shrugged. Coming to Japan had been his dream and while in college he’d been known for sneaking off campus to go partying, he’d always be back before 1 am to get sleep. Lance would be a night owl for papers and important documents but he’d stay holed up in a room to keep focus.

“I’m up late fighting crime but I always leave at a reasonable time so I can get sleep. My day job is stressful as it is without no sleep added to it.”

Fang stared at him, his disarming purple eyes seeming to take Lance in. “Even though I’m usually the reason you’re stuck out here, I’m glad you got to experience this.” This being the dawn slowly getting brighter as the sun started to rise over them. “Everyone deserves to see a beautiful sunrise.”

“Not to be rude, but it’d be better if I could enjoy it after not chasing you and Prince all night.”

“Hey, that wasn’t my fault! he’s the one that’s got some issue with me.”

As the sun got higher, Lance and Fire Fang, enemies most nights, dissolved into petty bickering like they were old friends.

                                                 ________________

Lance hid another yawn in his shoulder, trying to focus on the morning meeting. He got as much sleep as he could on the train ride over, thankful more than often that he never needed to transfer trains. It took everything in him once he arrived at the office and was checking his emails to not just fall asleep there. He was so sure he’d be fine but even the coffee he shared with Fang that morning had lost it’s effect by now.

“And McClain-san?”

“Yes?” Lance jolted, looking over at the head of his department.

“You’ve been asked to assist in a meeting for translation of Spanish to Japanese. It’s with our head executive.”

The head executive of the whole section of their department. Usually the person who had meeting with the clients, he was always in his office, only the heads of the departments being the only ones allowed in. he might only be the head executive of the translation and languages department, but he seemed to exude the power of a CEO.

“Yes sir.”

“Excellent. Head over there when we’re done. that’s it for tasks. Are there any questions before we conclude morning meeting?” Everyone shook their head. “Alright, dismissed everyone.”

Lance went over to his desk and switched out his notepad for a notebook and grabbed his prefered pen for notes and took a deep breath. It was just a regular meeting with translation. He could do this. He went to the famed office, taking in the name plate.

K. Kogane. Whoever this person was, they were a mystery to everyone on the floor and he was about to get a glimpse of this mystery. He knocked on the door and waited to be called in. sitting behind the desk was a man, about his age if not a bit older, with long black hair pulled back.

“McClain-san correct?”

“Yes sir.”

“Come in and close the door behind you. Guess I should introduce myself. I’m Akira Kogane, but call me Keith. My father is from Texas and rarely ever calls me by my Japanese name so I’m not expecting the same from you.”

“Yes Keith-san.”

“Just Keith, no honorifics.”

So he wasn’t as terrifying as some people made him out to be. Interesting.

“So, we have a meeting with our partners in Florida, but I was just made aware that head CEO is out of town and his right hand is doing the meeting. Spanish is their first language and while I’m sure they wouldn’t mind doing it in English, I’d rather try to make them feel comfortable. Your file says you speak Spanish fluently.”

“Yes sir. Parents are from Cuba. If I’m lucky, she might ba able to get a grasp on what I’m saying, since different Spanish speaking countries have different ways of saying things.”

“Very well. we’ll see how this goes. The meeting should be set up by now in the conference room. This way.” Lance followed as Kog- he meant, Keith picked up his tablet and headed for the door, which swung open.

“Akira! Sincline-sama wants to see you.”

Keith let out an annoyed sigh and turned to Lance, handing him his tablet. “Go ahead to conference room one. Tell them I’ll be there shortly. We have about 20 minutes before it starts so use the time wisely.”

AKA, make tea for them. Lance could do that. As he went to the break room to make tea, he went over his mystery boss in his head. He seemed firm and trustworthy. Everyone had such wild stories of who he could be or what he was like but all Lance saw was a pretty decent guy. As he waited for the water to boil, he struggled to reach for the trays. Some asshole had shoved them all the way at the top and the last time Lance saw the floor’s step stool, it was in the copy room. Lance jumped, hoping he could knock it and then catching it, but he over estimated how hard he’d hit it. Maybe all those nights fighting crime worked out in his favour of being strong. Though the tray hitting his boss’s tablet could have been avoided in his opinion. He quickly took stock, hoping the crack wouldn’t be bad but he was surprised to find no crack on it. The screen lit up with a notification, allowing Lance to see the picture in the background. Most computers and tech items owned by the company had the company logo as the background picture. This one had a familiar looking motif. One of from a villain he knew rather well.

“Fang, next target is the Galra Industries hotel construction? No other building near it will be damaged. Strike at 10 pm.”

Wait, was his boss...Fire Fang?

[ohmsservice]

Double Os Over Ice

Q hated Christmas.

No. Scrap that. He _loathed _Christmas.

“Fancy some punch, Sir?” R stood next to him in a Santa hat looking entirely too festive.

He didn’t want punch. Punch something maybe…

His smile was strained. Despite his feelings about the season he wasn’t about to take it out on his staff. “No thank you, R. Perhaps later,” he replied, returning his attention to his laptop.

“Oh by the way,” she said, smile encroaching those pink cheeks while she reached into the back pocket of her pants suit to hold aloft a red envelope.  “This arrived for you today.”

Q looked at the thing like it might be carrying a transmutable disease. “All scanned and checked out,” she said cheerily, thrusting it under his nose.

He took it tentatively. No one ever sent him post, let alone something resembling a Christmas card.

“Any word from 007?” she enquired innocently, sipping from her mug.

“Not a peep,” said Q, “it’s been nine bloody days. If he’s not dead already, I’ll kill him myself.”

He put the card next to his laptop when he heard the lilting voice of Eve pointing in his direction. “Aren’t you going to open it then?”

R and Q turned simultaneously. “Why, Miss Moneypenny. You look very Christmassy!”

Q rolled his eyes. “Surely M has something to say about you parading around Six wearing a tinsel scarf and…” he paused squinting at her hair. “Is that mistletoe?” Eve leaned forward to kiss R on the cheek. “Does that answer your question?” Eve said, grinning smugly. R was blushing, and grinning like a loon.

“Anyway, I just came down to deliver these,” she said, popping a bag of mince pies in R’s hand to distribute to the minion mass, “and to tell you to come to the bridge at 3pm.”

Q frowned. “Can’t. Busy.”

“Must. No argument. M’s given me carte blanche to boss you all around today.”

“Really?” R said, eyes bright and enthusiastic. “What’s the plan?”

“Just because it’s Christmas Eve…” Q grumbled.

“Precisely!” said Eve, with a brisk clap of her hands. “So hop to it, Q! No excuses. See you at 3pm!” she said with a curt tease, turning away with a twirl of her fingers in parting.

“You should just ask her out you know,” Q said quietly to R.

R sighed. “Way out of my league, Sir” she replied longingly. “Can’t wait to see what’s she’s got planned though!”

Q could. Q could wait until hell froze over. As if on cue and as though she knew he was thinking how to get out of the gathering, a message popped up on his screen.

Don’t be late Q. Remember. I’m an agent and M’s right hand.

A promise and a threat all rolled into one. Wonderful.

When 2pm rolled around, Q, who had been glancing with growing trepidation at the red envelope finally caved.

It was indeed a Christmas card, with a London postmark.

He took it out and stared. It had a photo of a kitten on the front, wearing a Santa hat looking like an anchovy wouldn’t melt in its mouth. The words “MEOWY CHRISTMAS!” printed along the bottom.

He opened it.

It turns out that Bond was capable of giving Q a headache even when not in the nearby vicinity.

“Equipment all present and accounted for. If you want it back, see you at the bridge by Six at 3pm.

Hugs and near misses, 007.”

Q calmly closed the card, feeling anything but. Oh he’d be at the bridge alright. The absolute nerve of the man…

The cold snap in London was hard and vicious enough to convince Q that climate change may be closer than even the experts thought. He wasn’t particularly fond of the cold, his thin layer of flesh doing little to protect his organs from its chilling bite. The inlet of water next to the river, because it was not especially deep, was completely frozen over. As Q and R made their way there at the designated time, Q glanced occasionally at his number one. “You know what’s going on, don’t you,” he stated. Her fake gasp told him all he needed to know.

“Really Sir! As if I’d keep secrets from you!”

“You may work with spies, R. Doesn’t mean you can lie like one,” he grumbled.

She was still beaming when they rounded the base of the bridge and Q was brought up short.

“Q!” shouted Eve, gesturing him over to where she stood amongst the Double Os who seemed to turn as one body to watch the approaching boffin. “So glad you could tear yourself away!” He squared his shoulders, determined not to buckle under the scrutiny of the intimidating bastards.

She thrust a starting pistol into his hands. “Would you mind doing the honours?” she asked, eyes twinkling. She made her way to the line of agents who’d in the intervening seconds organised themselves in a line standing on the edge of the inlet. She took position next to 004, Felicity Honour. 005 was there. And of course, 006 and 007. He just caught the end of whatever Trevelyan and Bond (the wanker) had been arguing about. As per usual.

“….you seem to forget, moy malen'kiy angliyskiy keks. I am Russian. I was born in this climate. It’s my home. You don’t stand a chance.”

“We’ll see about that won’t we, Alec? Scotland isn’t exactly known for its balmy temperatures either,” retorted Bond.

“Focus boys! Three circuits of the pond and no cutting corners!” barked Eve. She looked over at Q who was standing looking dumbly at the pistol. “When you’re ready, Q!” she called out.

R nudged him. Oh well, he shrugged inwardly. He was outnumbered anyway. May as well go with the flow. He held the gun aloft and pulled the trigger.

“And may the best agent win!” shouted R above the cheers of the small gathering of MI6 staff who had turned up.

“What exactly is it that they do win?” enquired Q, secretly hoping Bond would fall flat on his arse and embarrass himself.

“Oh,” said R airily, watching as Eve and Honour tried to trip each other up. “Just dinner this evening with a Q-Branch staffer of their choice.”

Q looked mortified. “What the—?!” he spluttered. “I never agreed to that!”

R, ever the plainspeakinug associate, didn’t hesitate. “Of course you didn’t but we all voted on it and I voted for you by proxy.” He was about to argue when R put a finger against her lips and he found himself silencing.

“Those singles amongst us have sod all of a social life as it is. Time to let our hair down. Sir. Even if it’s just for one night. And it is Christmas after all.”

Q sighed. Well, he may be a miserable bastard at this time of year, but he did promise himself he wouldn’t take it out on the minions. He turned to watch the agents on their second lap of the pond. Eve, light and graceful on her feet marginally held the lead.

He’d just have to make sure that whichever agent did take the prize, didn’t abuse the privilege.

Because it’s Christmas, and miracles do sometimes happen, Alec beat all the other agents to the punch, but Eve, the host with the most, always found a way to ease the pain of an arsekicking by a fellow agent of their prideful colleagues. The small group of panting, sweaty Double Os were standing across the pond, about 15 feet away from the group of onlookers. Alec was disagreeing with Eve about something, while pointing towards what appeared to be Q’s position. Bond was standing with his arms folded, looking smug while Eve was evidently putting Alec in his place. And it was then, when Alec raised his tone, Q and R caught onto the nature of the conversation.

“….. said any _any _Q Branch staffer, Moneypenny.”

“You’ll have to ask him yourself then,” she said primly, glancing Q’s  way to give him fair warning of what was to come. “If he’s not comfortable, don’t be a bully about it, Trevelyan.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Q mumbled under his breath. Of course, there were more than 40 staff under his care, but 006 wouldn’t settle for anything less than the top dog.

“Time nip this in the bud,” he stated firmly before moving to march across the pond towards the group.

Bond had fixed his steel blue, hawk-eyed gaze on Q while Moneypenny and 006 continued to banter. Q was halfway across before he realised that perhaps the actual centre of the pond might not be the safest place to be. After all, the agents had skated their little race around the outer edge, where the ice was considerably thicker.

And Bond, ever vigilant, was moving towards the Quartermaster before the sheet of ice beneath his feet had even begun to crack.

It wasn’t especially deep water, 8-10 feet at most. But was enough to immerse Q completely. The shock of the cold hit his system so hard that his body went into a moment of paralysis that felt like an eternity. He was only vaguely aware of the muffled splash above him and strong hands grabbing his waist to shove him upwards. Numb to the core as he was, he barely felt another pair of hands - Trevelyan’s - reach into the water to take him by his armpits and drag him up to the surface and onto the ice.

The next thing he hears is Eve barking orders about Medical and hot showers and bugger it all to hell if he hasn’t gone and lost his glasses to the murky depths. Felicity hauls him to his feet and Q finds himself anchored between the solid forms of herself and 006, shuffling him quickly across the ice back towards the looming safety of River House. R is hot on his heels, he barely feels her hand on the small of his back through his sodding wet parka and jumper but it’s there, doing what she can to reassure.

The cold feels as though it is gripping his very heart and consciousness is slipping away. The last thing he senses once they hit terra firma is the sensation of being swept into 006’s arms and hears himself mumbling in quiet protest. Good God, he thought to himself as logical thought departed from his mind, I am never going to live this down…

The cocoon of warmth in which he work up some hours later felt like heaven. The memory of the cold biting his bones fading in the cosiness of the blankets. He felt something pop into his ear and was about to bat it away when he realised it was Dr Jones, Head of Medical, taking his temperature.

_BEEP! _went the device. “All looks fine. Core body temperature back to normal,” he said with calm reassurance.

“Lost my glasses,” Q heard himself mumble. It was only a few seconds later, when he felt a gun-calloused palm against his own and the solid feel of his frames being pressed into his palm. Q slid up the pillow and put on them on, clearing the haze to reveal 006 and 007 standing on with side of the bed, watching him. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt suddenly a little too hot.

“You rescued them,” he whispered. Bond shrugged. “Eve made me. Said you’re blind without them.”

“Speaking of Eve…” Q asked, looking around. “She’s gone to yours to grab some fresh clothes,” Bond stated. “Can’t have you parading about Six in a terry robe now can we? Half the staff might get the crazy idea that it’s Christmas…”

Q allowed himself a small laugh, more relief at the warmth than anything else. “Thank you. For saving my glasses. And pulling me out of a watery grave.”

“I was just quicker of the mark,” Bond said casually, looking at Trevelyan would kept his peace during the exchange. “If Alec hadn’t been so busy arguing with Eve about winning your company for dinner this evening…”

Q - feeling suddenly emboldened by his near brush with death (OK. Maybe a tad overdramatic but still…) - heard, not without a slight sense of disbelief, the next words to tumble from his mouth.

“Well. Technically 006 did win the race,” Q said thoughtfully. “Though you did ruin a nice suit in the process of saving my sorry arse, 007.” He paused. “Ergo, logic demands that I take you both out to dinner.”

The look the agents exchanged was borderline shocked but quickly recovered. “I think we’d both like that very much, Quartermaster…”

This may in fact be the understatement of the year, but dinner, was a revelation.

Between the strength of their mutual respect - and Q would even go so far to say love - combined with the needling banter he observed throughout the evening, he was left in absolutely no doubt that these men could survive anything in the world of espionage that life could throw at them.

Bond was on his third martini and Trevelyan on his fifth vodka when they redirected their attention towards Q, who up until that point had been more than happy to watch and enjoy their playful interactions. Now he found himself once again the object of a focus that would have been flattering for anyone else, but unnerving for him.

“I think it’s time we heard a few stories from the life and times of our esteemed Quartermaster,” said Bond, leaning back in his chair and unbuttoning his jacket.

Q fingered the stem of his wine glass, which Bond recognised as a slight tick. He had observed the same treatment of his favourite mug when Q was talking to M in person or via comms.

He cleared his throat. “Oh my life experience pales in comparison I’m afraid,” he said with a smile. “Careening down the sides of mountains, jumping from planes and rescuing damsels in distress is a far cry from what I can offer.”

And with those words, Alec saw his opening and made his move.

“You underestimate yourself Quartermaster. Personally, I find you quite fascinating.”

Q chastised himself inwardly at the rising, betraying blush. “I find myself quite fulfilled with my work and my cats.”

“You know, I think he’s attempting to feign dull to try and throw us off, Alec,” Bond’s smile was blatantly sensual. “Would you like to know what we see when we look at you, Q?”

Q tilted his head in curiosity. Such a statement could only mean that he’d been under observation for some time. And so engrossed had he been in making his mark on MI6, had completely failed to notice. A Quartermaster’s mind is put together differently from that of an agent after all. He could hardly be blamed for missing the signs.

“I’m not sure—“ Q began, shifting in his seat.

Bond ignored him, Alec giving his fellow agent an encouraging nod before he continued.

“People like Alec and I? We don’t have many people whom we can trust in the world. For obvious reasons. It’s come as second nature to trust each other, having been through so much together in the field. But aside from M, there is no one within the walls of MI6 than we trust more than you.”

“When I watch you, I see isolation. A safe space you have created around yourself that no-one is allowed to invade. You fear intimacy as much as you crave it.”

“We want to share the trust we have in each other with you, Q. Let us in.”

And Q? Q was tempted. There was no denying his interest and attraction to the two men… But… he knew. Understood himself too well.

“No.” Q stood and straightened his jacket. “Thank you for a lovely evening, agents, but I think here’s where we call it a night.”

He departed. And Bond or Trevelyan didn’t try and stop him.

“Worth a shot, James,” said Alec as they both watched their retreating Quartermaster’s back.

“Never say never, Alec,” said Bond. He wouldn’t be the agent he was today if he turned away from a challenge.

And he always did so enjoy a challenge.

Three Months Later…

“Vy absolyutnyy ublyudok, Alec!”

James was back from a mission in Warsaw not twelve hours, and despite its harrowing circumstances, exhaustion and a deep, dreamless state had won him over. He’d fallen in a comatose state, alone in bed, not long after arriving at Q’s flat and woken up ten minutes ago, to find himself tied firmly to the bed frame. Not only tied by knots that he had himself taught Alec, but tied with the stockings Q had bought him for his own birthday.

Across the room, Alec had Q pinned to the wall, large hands clasping a slender waist, one leg between Q’s while he was currently subjecting Q’s collarbone and chest to a savage onslaught like that to which a lion would the rapidly diminishing carcass of a wildebeest.

Now fully awake (in more ways than one), the effects of the mission were kicking back in his mind and he was desperate for some - ANY kind of release to soothe the comedown. Bond closed his eyes against the sight of the two of them locked against each other, opening them again at the sound of Q’s breathy, shuddering moan. His head was pitched to the side, held in place now by Alec’s hand buried in his hair while he ravaged his throat.

Alec turned his head towards James then, shameless grin plastered across his face, releasing Q and giving him a moment to catch his breath. “Really James,” he tutted, “has the mission taken so much out of you you’re not even going to try?”

And that was what did it. James wrenched his wrist hard, bruising his flesh and causing a sharp rush of pain but tearing the stocking in the process. Alec moved swiftly towards the bed before James could free his other hand. He had him pinned beneath the length of his body though wasn’t going down without a fight bucking angrily against him. “Get the fuck off me, Alec,” he growled.

“Ask nicely now James,” Alec said teasingly, wrestling the exhausted agent, just as another breathless moan sounded behind them causing them both to pause in their battle for dominance. Alec rolled off Bond and both men took in the sight of Q, completely focussed on his own pleasure, one hand caressing his scalp while the other moved with a beautiful, steady rhythm against his cock. His eyes closed, head thrown carelessly back against the wall, both agents just watched for a few seconds more before Bond yanked his other hand free and rolled off the bed. In a few quick strides he was in front of Q, grabbing his occupied hand and dragging him towards the bed. Alec had made space and kept to the side while Bond, completely aroused, climbed on top of Q and with fuelled determination and purpose ground their hips together hard and fast.

Their climax was quick and dirty and beyond satisfying. Bond glanced to the side, his smug comrade, looking very pleased with himself. Bond pulled Alec into a kiss while a sated Q watched.

“Beautiful, fucking Cossak,” grumbled Bond, falling to Q’s side and pulling the boffin close against him, burying his face in his hair, content and soothed.

Missions would drain him dry, leave him cold and empty, but this.

This.

Again and again, Q and Alec pulled him from the cold, murky depths and reminded him to simply breathe.

[tendertenebrosity]

Another scene with TJ and Danny, my Path and handler OCs set in @wildfaewhump‘s Path Verse! Thanks Vic for letting me play in your world! Check out the tag for Vic’s writings in it!  

The Agency building was familiar to TJ, a labyrinth of halls and rooms and corridors that he oriented himself in by memory, sound, the touch of the air conditioning on his skin. TJ could hear the voices of handlers, but the hand on his upper arm still seemed to come out of nowhere.

“Move, you’re in the way,” someone said, voice loud and strident with annoyance. The hand yanked TJ’s arm, hard enough to hurt, and then fell away. 

One of the handlers. But after that initial jolt, the handler didn’t give any indication of what direction he wanted TJ to move in. He froze in indecision, head turning this way and that.

“Are you deaf, Path, I said move!”

A hand fisted in his shirt, and then sharp white pain cracked across TJ’s face. A slap. He cried out, stumbled to the side, one hand coming up to the side of his face before he forced it down. He wasn’t supposed to reach for things like that, it might look like he was trying to touch the handler but he wasn’t, his face just hurt…

“Sorry,” he whimpered. “S-sorry, I’ll move, wh-where…”

The hands repositioned themselves, gripping TJ by both upper arms, and he was thrust backwards, inelegantly, so that he overshot the mark and his shoulder hit the wall of the hallway with a thump. More pain, deep and dull and bruising compared to the sharp heat on his face.

“Stay there, don’t take up the whole walkway,” the handler snapped.

“Okay,” TJ said, his head hanging, one hand tentatively coming up to grip the opposite elbow. “O, Okay, I’m sorry…”

No response. The handler had, perhaps, walked away. TJ huddled against the wall, a little grateful for it as a landmark even as his arm throbbed. The side of his face felt like it was aflame, blazing. His eyes stung with tears under the blindfold, and he could feel moisture soaking into the cloth at the corners. He lifted his hand up to tentatively brush his cheek. It felt hot, but not as much as he would have thought given how it hurt. He sniffled miserably, and settled down to wait for his handler to come for him.

He didn’t have long to wait.

“All right, kid, let’s get a move on.”

A steadying gloved hand touched his elbow and drew him away from the wall, and TJ could feel the reassuring bulk of his handler beside him. He didn’t leave any doubt as to where TJ was supposed to go, guiding him forwards and out into the walkway with one hand on his elbow and the other a light touch on his shoulderblade.

TJ couldn’t help a little sigh of relief, shoulders relaxing. His handler was here. TJ didn’t have to worry about where to go or if he was doing something wrong anymore, his handler would tell him.  Gently, since it was this handler, Danny.

TJ’s eyes itched under the blindfold. He scrunched his nose up and sniffled, surreptitiously. He wanted more than anything to rub his eyes, but there was no way he could do that, not reach up and touch the blindfold with all these people around.

“What’s the matter with you?” his handler snapped.

TJ flinched. “Oh! Nothing!”

His handler paused beside him, and then they were both slowing down. His handler’s big hands exerted gentle pressure on TJ’s arm to get him to stop, then again to make him turn.

“What’s wrong? Are you crying? What happened?” The tone was impatient, angry, and TJ flinched a little.

“Nothing,” he repeated, his voice wavering, treacherous eyes starting to sting again. “I’m not. Nothing.”

Silence, as Danny regarded TJ from directly in front of him. TJ’s face was still burning where he’d been slapped, and something must have been visible, because when Danny spoke again, his voice was harsh and incredulous.

“Did someone just hit you, kid?”

TJ squirmed, his chin ducking down against his chest. “I – I – yes? I’m sorry.”

“Why the fuck are you sorry? What’d you do to get them to hit you?”

“I, I, I didn’t mean – nothing, nothing, I was in the way, he, he said move but I didn’t kno-ow where…”

“God fucking damn it, I was all of half a minute late! Where were you? Just there? Before I came and got you?”

“Y-yes, of course… I’m sorry…” TJ rubbed his shoulder where it hurt from hitting the wall. He finished the sentence: I only left you alone for half a minute and you still managed to get into trouble! His voice went hushed, pleading. “I didn’t mean to. I was waiting for you but I guess I was in the way.”  

He heard a sharp breath out through his handler’s nose. Danny’s voice, when it came, was flat. “Fucking hell. Tell me who it was.”

TJ took a deep breath, tipped his head back, and did his best to will the tears back from his eyes. “Don’t know. A handler. I don’t know.”

“Someone from our department? A trainee, or a full handler?”

TJ gulped, overwhelmed by the rapid questions. He had no idea. The voice hadn’t been familiar, it had been young, slightly nasal, angry, probably male… he had no idea who it was. He felt tears starting to build again, the familiar unease bordering on panic he always felt when people asked him questions and he had to say he didn’t know. “… I don’t … I’m sorry… I d-don’t know…”

His handler shifted, and then there was a light but firm touch on TJ’s shoulders. “Don’t cry, kid, I’m not angry at you. The fucking nerve, that’s all… You’re still going to be all right to work, though, aren’t you?”

“Yes, oh yes,” TJ agreed, relieved, as he was turned around by his handler’s touch. “I’m not hurt. The readings will go fine.” His cheek still felt hot, but that was nothing. He’d done readings while more hurt than this, all the time with previous handlers, but he didn’t say that. He blinked his eyes behind the cloth, resisting the urge to rub his face on his sleeve or lift a hand to them.

“Well, if you think of who it was, tell me, all right?”

“Sure. I c-can do that.”

 It was later in the day that TJ heard the voice again, while he was sitting in the row of padded chairs outside the offices waiting.

He tilted his head, listening, trying to confirm for himself that it was the voice he remembered. It certainly sounded like him, young and slightly nasal, talking animatedly to somebody else about a topic that TJ didn’t really understand. There were a lot of other voices, too, which didn’t make it easy – distant voices, close up voices, footsteps and paper shuffling, phones ringing. It took effort to make the voice stand out amongst the wash of noise.

The chairs creaked as his handler shifted beside him. “What is it?”

“Oh, um… I think that’s him,” TJ said, his voice soft. “Th-the handler from before. You said to tell you…”

“The one that hit you?” Danny sounded surprised. He twisted in the chair beside TJ, his tone sharpening. “Which one? The person talking now?”

“The, um, the one that just laughed.”

A moment of silence. Then Danny pushed himself upright, out of the chair. TJ sat up, expecting to be pulled up too, but his handler pushed him down into the chair with a hand on his shoulder.

“Stay here and don’t move, kid. Understand?”

“Um, yes….”

Footsteps as Danny walked away. Then Danny’s voice joined the hubbub of voices, asking a question that TJ didn’t quite catch. The conversation went too low for TJ to hear, even though he sat rigid in his chair when he’d been put, head turning from side to side in confusion. He gripped the seat of the chair tightly with his fingers, uncertainly, not liking the vulnerability of being left to sit alone here but knowing better than to protest.

His handler’s voice was rising, anger making it growl in the back of his throat. “… overstepping your authority, sonny-fucking-jim, so if I was you –”

“It’s just a Path, man, calm down….” The voice was defensive, tinged with laughter.

“Wrong, it happens to be my fucking Path, and I know for certain that he didn’t…”

“I don’t get what your problem is! Didn’t damage it, did I?”

Then there was a clatter, the shuffle of clothing.  

“All right, let’s make it simple, then,” he heard Danny snarl, over the sound of one or two people murmuring disapprovingly. “If you touch my Path without my say-so again, I’ll fucking deck you, understand?”

The other voice went higher-pitched, appeasing. “Jesus, man, all right! Whatever you say…”

“Glad to hear it. Carry on, then.”

TJ rocked back in his chair, bewildered. What had happened? Danny had told the other handler off for hitting TJ? That didn’t happen. That never happened.

He wondered with a queasy start if the other handlers were looking at TJ right now. Was he making trouble? But he hadn’t even done anything! He tried to sit up straight, elbows against his side, hands in his lap, clenched to stop them trembling.

Then Danny’s figure was approaching, his breathing loud and distinct as he stopped in front of TJ. “Up you get, kid,” he said briskly, and TJ hastened to obey.

As Danny’s hand closed around TJ’s wrist and they started to walk away, TJ heard a mutter from behind them. “Bloody psycho…”

If Danny heard that, he didn’t let on.

“Fucking junior handlers thinking they own the place,” he muttered under his breath, and it was one of those times when he seemed to be talking to TJ, because nobody else was in earshot, but he was probably talking more to himself. His tone sharpened, and then he was definitely talking to TJ because it was an order. “You’ll tell me if he does that again, right?”

“Yes,” TJ said. He hesitated, fingers twisting in the cuff of his undershirt. He ventured a question, tentatively. “But I, um… are you really going to d-deck him? What does that mean? It doesn’t sound like, um, like something you should do?”

Danny snorted with laughter. “No, TJ, I probably won’t, although it would be nice, wouldn’t it? No, I’ll send a snippy email to his boss. But that doesn’t sound very threatening, now does it?”

TJ shook his head, letting go of his undershirt with a sigh of relief. His handler’s hand was wrapped securely around his wrist, showing him where to go. Whatever this was, it was over.

Of course, he’d do as he was told and tell Danny if that specific handler hit him again, but… maybe it was for the best TJ didn’t tell him everything, if it resulted in him getting into arguments and being called a psycho.

The thought of TJ protecting Danny from something was all wrong, topsy turvy but not in a bad way, and it made him smile a little bit at how foolish he was being, and maybe his heart was a little light at the thought that Danny had believed him over the other handler when he said he hadn’t meant to do anything wrong. “I guess it’s not,” he agreed. “That’s good, then.”