#please note that I am sleepy and not a lawyer

[queerbauten]

Tbh I think Joost should get to sue the EBU for implicitly painting him as a woman beater

[bbsmuts]

Midas's Gift ft. Kiss of Life Natty

A/N: This was a request from @dav1233555. No kinky shit here, just a nice, wholesome smut, if such a thing exists. Just as a note, our main character is supposed to be a high-up executive in a successful engineering/engineering company. I don't know how that works, I'm a lawyer. At the request of the pitcher, we'll call him Y/N when we need to, which isn't something I usually do but not a problem. Enjoy!

-상훈

Length: 5.47k

No TWs today you kinky little bastards 😁

Ok, I lied, maybe some light choking/spanking.

Tags: Wholesome-ish, light choking, light spanking, throatfuck

It was a warm, bright kind of morning; the sunlight shone through the gold-colored curtains in Natty's room, making them look a pleasant, shimmery amber, with a beam of it falling over my back. Faint sounds of other apartment residents could be heard from every side I groaned languidly and rolled over onto my back, the warmth streaming through the window felt nice.

To my right, Natty gave a sleepy moan and turned on her side to face me, her arm sliding across my chest. She pulled herself closer to me, and her other hand took hold of my arm, slowly caressing my bicep.

"Good morning oppa," she murmured drowsily in an adorably high-pitched morning voice, hugging me from the side. I opened one eye and smiled at her cute face gazing back at me.

"Sleep well, babe?" I asked, shutting my eye again.

"The best." She yawned. "I was so tired after last night..."

"Yeah, me too." I put my arm around her slim form and pulled her closer. "What time is it?"

I heard the sound of the sheets rustling and then her voice.

"9 am, just about."

I yawned and kept my eyes shut. "Shit, I have to go soon."

She snuggled in close to me, resting her head on my pec. "But not yet." She was quiet for a moment. "Your morning voice is so sexy oppa..."

I chuckled, slowly stroking her hair. "So's yours."

She gave soft purrs at my stroking. "Really?"

I turned onto my side to face her, smiling. "Really."

She giggled and buried her face in my chest. "Oppa I love you."

"Love you too, baby." I planted a kiss on her head, and I could feel her smile against me. My hand dipped lower, slithering down her back and caressing her supple ass cheeks, massaging a quiet moan from her.

"Mmm, you like that baby?"

"Ohh yes...yes I do..."

I pulled her on top of me and she opened her legs, her pussy pressing on me, releasing a rush of blood to my cock and stirring it from its rest. I pulled her head down and kissed her lovingly, and then she pushed herself up and started slowly grinding her hips on me, letting out soft whimpers.

Natty's breath was shaky and her voice needy as she bent down, moaning in my ear.

"O-oppa...I need you..."

"Fuck, baby, I need you too."

I grabbed her hips, guiding my tip to her entrance, and pushed into her slowly. She and I moaned in unison, the sound's volume increasing the deeper I went. I bottomed out after come considerable resistance, and she pushed herself up on my pecs, starting to ride me. Her arms trembled slightly as she moaned, gyrating and bouncing her hips on me and driving me in and out of her. I times thrusts with her bouncing, ramming my cock deeper inside her.

"F-fuck, you're so big oppa! Ohh my god yes, harder!"

My eyebrows contracted as her pussy tightened around me, her walls squeezing and pleasuring me. "Ugh, you're tight babe, so fucking tight, god!" I groaned through gritted teeth. I pulled her close to me and rolled over, lifting her legs into the air and fucking her pussy vigorously, making her moan louder.

"Oh, oh fuck yes, harder, please!" She yelled. "Fucking pound me, that's it, YES!"

I reached around her thighs and squeezed her tits roughly, drawing more cries from her. She moaned out mindless nonsense, incomprehensibly begging for more.

"Fuck, it's so good oppa! So fucking big in me, I'm gonna cum!"

I knew that, and I also knew my own peak was approaching. I gritted my teeth and rammed into her harder, fucking her raw and driving her to her orgasm like a chauffeur in a limo. I hooked her knees over my shoulders and leaned down, keeping up my hard and fast thrusts while whispering in her ear.

"Are you gonna cum for me baby?"

"Yes oppa, I'm so close, don't stop!" She cried into my ear.

I felt her pussy clenching and contracting wildly around me and her shrieks of pleasure increased in volume.

"I'm cumming! Keep fucking me!"

I closed my eyes and kept postponing my hips forward, allowing her cries to envelop my half-vacant brain. I heard her scream and felt a gush of warm juices spray over my abs. Feeling my own pleasure rising to an apex, I buried myself to the hilt inside her and struck gold, also known as her cervix. She gasped at the sudden contact and the deluge of hot seed that was shot deep down her tunnel, triggering her second orgasm. She let out a small "Oh, fuck", not having the breath in her lungs for a loud sound. Then she sucked in a breath and moaned, her voice breaking a bit.

I rolled off her, panting a lot, feeling the blood start to empty from my softening cock. Natty took a minute to recover before speaking.

"That was - fuck, that was amazing."

I turned her head towards mine and kissed her. Then I caught sight of the clock and groaned. "It's 9:15, I really have to get ready and go."

"Aww, okay."

I reluctantly got out of bed and went to the bathroom, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and styled my hair. I got dressed, putting on the suit I had taken off last night after going straight to Natty's place from work. Black blazer and pants, white button-down, blue tie, the obligatory watch, my black shoes, and my favorite lapel pin. Perfection.

I gave Natty one more kiss goodbye, putting all my willpower into resisting the urge her naked body forced on me, then took the elevator down to the ground floor. I got in my car and then drove away, heading towards the office.

After parking my car in the huge building's parking lot, I made my way inside with my briefcase in hand, the usual morning greetings meeting me from all sides.

"Good morning, Mr. L/N."

"Morning, Y/N."

"Looking sharp, Y/N."

Nodding respectfully at all of them, I immediately made a beeline for the coffee bar. "Morning, Min." I said to Minjoon, a coworker and friend of mine, who nodded. I set down my briefcase at the nearest table and filled a cup to the brim, lidded it, and left, heading for the elevator. A short trip later, I arrived on the 15th floor and marched up to the desk of my secretary, who chuckled as I approached, sat down in front of her desk, and set down my briefcase momentarily.

"Busy day for you, I'm afraid, Mr. L/N. Twenty-two calls, what I count to be a few million emails, a stack of paperwork a foot tall, and a very upset client."

I sighed and facepalmed, wishing heartily I could be back with Natty right now. "Jesus Christ, and here I was hoping for an easy day."

She laughed. "Easy day? Good one. The upset client happens to be Mr. Han Jong-min, the manager of a construction site we approved and sponsored, who has found a major issue with the location that was sanctioned for their foundation."

I sat back in the chair and let my head fall back. "Him again? My god, has there been one site we've approved for him that he hasn't deep searched, found a minor problem in, and tried to sue us all for it?"

"I don't believe so, Mr. L/N." Her amused voice said.

I sat back up, exasperated. "What's this major problem he found?"

"I'm not entirely sure of that. You'll have to talk to him."

I sighed again, stood up, and seized my briefcase. "Alright, let me go and placate this penny-pinching bastard. Thanks, Sunhee."

"You're welcome, sir. Have fun."

I snorted as I closed my office door, dropping into my chair with a groan. I could tell today would be quite the stressful day, seeing as I was dealing with that son of a bitch Han Jong-min, who tried to find as many issues as possible with the construction sites I and my associates approved. Almost every single time, they were minor issues that wouldn't affect the buildings being constructed. And every single time, they weren't my fault, they were the inspectors' faults, but it somehow always became my problem.

There was indeed a large stack of paperwork on my desk. A lot of files. I opened and logged into my computer to see an astronomical 267 emails, killing another small part of my brain.

"Jesus fucking Christ, why couldn't today be a chill day..." I opened my Gmail and looked through said emails. Excluding social emails, promotions, and spam, I had 3 legitimate emails to read. One was from a coworker, reminding me about a conference today. Another was from my boss, saying he wanted to talk to me later today, and the other was from Han Jong-min, and just from reading the first few words in the preview I could tell I was in for a hell of a time with him.

...

After sorting out the other two emails, meeting with my boss, participating in the press conference, it was time to sort out the construction site. Unless he had a legitimate issue this time, I was finished fucking around with him.

With a sigh, I picked up my phone and dialed his number. I tapped my fingers on my desk while the line rung, and then he picked up.

"Han Jong-min speaking."

"It's Y/N L/N." I said, trying to remove all the annoyance from my voice. (I think that's how you'd put a full name, I don't know). "I was informed that you wished to speak about a problem on your site?"

"Ah yes, Mr. L/N. My crew have indeed run into a problem while preparing to lay the foundation of the building."

"And what would that be, Mr. Han?"

"There's a large, eroded underground cavity in the southeast corner of the lot, which has now collapsed into a sinkhole, taking one of my men with it!"

I raised my eyebrows. "He's dead?"

"No, he's been hospitalized with a broken arm and a broken hip."

"Well, I'm terribly sorry to hear that." I paused. "Unfortunately, there's very little I can do to help you right now."

"What the hell do you mean, very little? We can't build here!"

"I'm aware of that, Mr. Han. But I'm not in charge of sanctioning new build sites, nor am I allowed to. I suggest you speak with one of my superiors."

He sighed. "Alright. I'm sorry for troubling you again, Y/N."

Mood lightened and exasperation softened, I spoke back. "That's quite alright, not to worry. Good luck, Mr. Han."

"The same to you, Mr. L/N."

I hung up, surprised that we had ended on a good note. I was expecting an argument at the very least. Shrugging, I returned to the stack of paperwork, mentally steeling myself for another few hours of innately mind-murdering busywork.

...

There was a knock at my door about two hours in, and I heard my secretary's voice.

"Mr. L/N?"

"Come in." My voice was a bit hoarse.

She entered the room and walked to my desk, holding a small stack of paper.

"More paperwork, I'm afraid. But not much."

She handed me the papers, which I added to the stack.

"Anything else?" I asked.

"Well, it's getting quite late, Mr. L/N. Would it be possible for me to leave?"

I looked at my watch, and was surprised to see how late it was.

"Damn, is it that time already?" I shook my head in disbelief. "Must have lost track of time. Yes, you can go, I'll be fine here by myself."

She smiled, bowing respectfully and seeing herself out. "Thank you, sir. Have a good night."

"You too, Sunhee."

I smiled myself, her happiness contagious as always. She had been my secretary for a good 8 years, and had not once failed to be of the utmost help when I needed it. So I never missed an opportunity to let her go early, as was the case today.

I finished up the paperwork as quickly as I could, and then had an idea. I picked up my phone once more and dialed Natty's number.

She picked up almost immediately.

"Oppa?"

The sound of her voice after such a long day was like music to my ears.

"Hey, baby." I paused, smiling. "What do you think about dinner together tonight?"

...

I had planned to head straight home to change and get ready, but on my way home I spotted a familiar sign that read "예작쥬얼리" (Yei-Jak Jewelry), and another idea formed in my head.

I parked my car on the side of the street by the shop and stepped out, taking off my sunglasses and walking into the shop. The store's owner, who I knew quite well, was happy to see me back.

"Ah, Mr. L/N. Long time no see."

I chuckled. "Been about three months, hasn't it, Seo-jun?"

"Indeed, about that. What shall it be today, my friend?"

"Hmm..." I looked around at the various options on shelves, in display containers, and inside the glass cabinet in front of me, and decided I'd let him pick. "I'm thinking something gold. Elegant. Robust, but subtle. Maybe inlaid with a stone...something fit for a woman of unrivaled grace and elegance."

"I see." He smiled. "Well, I happen to have a perfect little piece for such a woman...we just got it handmade..." He walked into the back of the shop and brought out a small box, which he opened and took a case out of. It was a velvety, dark blue case with "예작쥬얼리" stamped in gold letters. Upon my opening the box, a light turned on and shone upon an artistic and sophisticated golden necklace, inlaid with a tanzanite pendant, which was surrounded by tiny diamonds.

"Solid 24 carat gold chain with a titanium lobster clasp, one 120 carat kite cut tanzanite stone, and fifteen .25 carat round cut diamonds. All pure and natural materials, hand-crafted in and shipped directly from Florence, Italy."

I nodded approvingly. "Sounds very good. How much?"

"That will be...$1500." He leaned forward. "Don't tell anyone, but it would normally be $1800."

I pulled my wallet out of my jacket pocket, smiling, and took out my card. After he entered the amount, I swiped it and put it back in my wallet. He handed me the box, shutting it, and I stowed my wallet back in the pocket.

"Thanks very much, Seo-jun."

"Anytime, Mr. L/N." He smiled as I saw myself out.

I hopped back in my car and hurried home with the necklace, already beginning to imagine Natty's face when she got it. Just the thought made me happy, and my mind was consumed with thoughts of her as I changed into my best suit.

I fixed my hair, which the wind from my convertible's open roof had messed up, and secured it with gel, touched up the polish on my shoes, straightened my tie, spritzed my favorite cologne on my purse points, and tucked in my pocket square.

Let's do this.

...

I picked Natty up from her apartment at about 6:20 pm, her looking as beautiful as ever. She was wearing a tight black dress that showed just the slightest hint of cleavage and most of her thighs; just enough to leave me wanting more.

I stepped out and took her in my arms, kissing her neck passionately. "Hey, babe." I murmured into her ear, and she buried her face in my jacket, giggling.

"Ooh, you smell good oppa."

I chuckled. "It's Bleu de Chanel. You like it?" (I know I do)

She took a deep inhale before pulling back slightly, smiling up at me. "Yeah, I love that one."

I smiled back, giving her another peck on the lips. "Great, let's go."

I pulled up to the restaurant in my car with the roof down and sunglasses on, despite the fact that it was 6:30 pm and the sun was entirely set.

I stepped out, walked around and helped Natty out, straightened my blazer, and placed my key into the outstretched hand of the valet. He looked fairly excited to drive it, and I smirked at his expression. He stepped into the car and the engine roared at his touch on the pedals.

"Classy ride, sir."

I nodded and chuckled. "Indeed it is. Be careful, it wasn't cheap."

He nodded. "Of course, sir." Then he pulled away, the car's rear headlights blazing. I waited by the

Arm in arm, we walked into the bustling restaurant, the brightly lit sign on the exterior wall shining in my eyes: 중식당

"Reservation for L/N?" I said to the host, who nodded. "Right this way, sir."

We followed him to a small, two-seater table with a white, gold-laced tablecloth and a candle burning low in a fancy golden candlestick. The host nodded at our thanks and then returned to his post. We sat down, and were immediately approached by a waiter.

"Anything to drink, sir? Miss?"

I considered for a moment. "What do you have as far as wine?"

The waiter smiled. "Allow me to get you a menu."

He returned moments later with two meal menus and a small drink menu. Upon opening it, I immediately found my choice: Argiano Brunello di Montalcino, choice from Tuscany.

"The Argiano, please. Yes, the bottle."

"Yes, sir." He bustled off to get the bottle and we were left to each other again.

"So," I said, loosening my tie a bit in the warmth of the building and looking into her eyes, "got any plans for later?"

"Oh, I think I do." She said playfully. "Or should I say...we do."

I smirked. "Funny, I was thinking the same thing."

The waiter came back with the bottle and filled our glasses, leaving it in a bucket of ice.

"A toast?" She suggested, holding up her glass."

"Alright." I sloshed the wine in my glass around and raised it. "Here's to...a long night of pounding you senseless."

She giggled, blushing, and clinked her glass against mine. "Cheers to that, oppa."

We both took a small sip of the fine wine, the fresh initial notes and tart aftertaste making the drink quite the magnificent choice.

"Mm," she said, after setting her glass down. "Good choice, oppa."

"Indeed." I took another small nip of the wine before setting my own glass down and picking up the menu. "Jungsik's choices of entrees are quite nice as well."

The waiter approached once more, this time with a notepad. "Perhaps an appetizer, sir? Miss?"

I reviewed their options, and almost immediately found the choice option.

"The sea urchin bibimbap, please." (Yes, I did look up the menu. You're welcome.)

"Excellent choice, sir. Miss?"

"Kimbap, please."

The waiter nodded. "Yes, miss."

He left with our orders. Surprisingly quickly, in a matter of minutes, he returned with our dishes on a platter, and handed each of them to us respectively. He bowed and left again.

As always, the food was impeccable, and we hadn't even gotten the entrees yet. I was barely paying attention to the food, since my hands were really starting to itch towards the case in my pocket. But I held off on it, knowing I should save it for later.

After a short time, the waiter came back and collected out bowls, ready to take the next order.

I ordered the langoustine (for reference, this is a dish made with Norwegian lobster), and Natty got the duck (self-explanatory). Then we were left alone to our conversation.

The taste of langoustine is incomparable; a juicy, slightly sweet, and a bit creamy fish, it's not quite like anything else, including its Pacific lobster counterparts. The exquisite substance's flavor and juices spread over my tongue, satisfying every receptor cell, quite like Natty's.

Wait, what?

Before I could stop the dirty analogy from blossoming into a fully fledged fantasy, quite the erotic image floated to the surface of my mind. My mind's eye traveled down Natty's naked body, spread eagled on my bed, wet and needy. I dispelled it's fast as I could before I got hard right there in my seat, but I knew that image would become reality soon enough.

"I know what you're thinking about, oppa." Natty said in a playful tone, though it was laced with a faint trace of seduction. "I know that look."

"Oh, do you?" I leaned forward, swallowing my last bite of lobster. I raised my eyebrows and smirked, knowing she was right. "Then tell me."

The flame light from the candle shone and danced on her face and in her eyes, giving them a dark glow as she looked at me. "You're thinking about me." She said in a quiet voice. "Horny, wet, and wanting you really bad. Well guess what, oppa." she continued, inclining her head towards me. "That's me right now."

"Oh really?" My smirk widened. "Better finish up quick then. You get dessert when we get home."

"Looking forward to that, daddy."

We weren't generally a kinky couple, but her words did in fact make my cock twitch a bit. She took care to chew her last bite very slowly; seemingly savoring the taste with relish and puckering her lips a bit with each movement of her jaw. She swallowed very controlledly, giving a small sigh as though of enjoyment, and looked me right in the eye, as though daring me to do something about it, an initiative I was wholeheartedly willing to endorse but unfortunately couldn't, at least not right now.

The waiter came around, seeing that we had finished, and I asked for the bill, which I already knew would be pricey but entirely worth it. I paid the extortionate bill and then we stood to leave. At the door, I decided it was time.

I took the small box out of my pocket while walking behind her. "Natty?"

She turned and looked at me, inclining her head. "Yes?"

"I have something for you."

I opened the box behind my back and then brought it around. She gasped at the sight of it, her hands flying to her mouth. I held it out and open as if I were proposing, and she took it into one hand silently, eyes locked on the pendant and one hand still over her mouth.

"Oppa..." She looked back up at me, eyes wide. "For me?"

I smiled. "Yes, for you."

She was quiet for a short moment and then she sprang towards me and threw her arms around me, beaming and giggling. "Thank you so much oppa! It's beautiful!"

I couldn't help but smile myself at her elation, a sense of happiness filling me as well. She pulled back slightly, absolutely glowing with joy, and then she sprung up on her toes and kissed me, still smiling against my lips. She broke it off and hugged me again, resting her head on my shoulder.

"You're welcome, baby." I said into her ear. "I love you."

"I love you too." Her voice sounded in my ear.

Her eyes were radiant with happiness as she took a step back.

"S-should I put it on?"

"Yes, of course. I didn't get it for nothing, did I?"

She took the necklace out of its case and clasped it around her neck, and the pendant fell and dangled just below her collarbone, making a very nice addition to the black dress.

"How does it look?" She asked, striking a pose.

"Beautiful. You look beautiful."

She beamed once more and hugged me again.

"Let's get on the way, shall we?"

We walked to the car arm-in-arm, and then we started the drive home.

"Oppa," Natty said a minute into the drive, after reverently putting the necklace back in its case. "How much did you pay for this necklace?"

"Uhhhm...let's not get into that." I replied, and we both laughed.

...

I parked my car in my garage and led her inside, and as soon as the door was shut behind me I pushed her against it, and she moaned as I kissed her, hands snaking around her waist and caressing her ass. She slipped her arms around my shoulders and deepened the kiss. I steered the two of us towards the bedroom, shedding my blazer and laying it over the couch as we made our way to the door. Once inside, I loosened my tie while she let her dress slip down over her slender form, revealing the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra or panties. I unbuttoned my shirt and stripped it off, and she bit her lip at the sight. She approached and slowly ran her hands over my bare chest, and I made her gasp as I reached down and rubbed her exposed pussy lightly. Her eyebrows arched and her breathing became heavier, a small moan escaping her at my touch. I unbuttoned my pants and rid myself of them and my boxers, and she knelt without hesitation, putting her hair back out of her face.

"Fuck," I groaned, her warm lips sliding smoothly over my tip. Within seconds, she had reached the base, gagging obscenely and sending ripples of pleasure through me. "God, Natty..."

She popped off me and replaced her mouth with her hand. "Mm, you like that oppa?"

She didn't give me time to answer before diving back in. I grabbed her head and pumped my hips forward, thrusting deeper into her throat. She kept a steady and unwavering gaze on me even as she throated me. She have herself no pauses, no breaks, and no mercy, impaling her throat on my cock. I moaned and pulled her deeper, and her eyes rolled back as she choked.

I pulled out of her throat, not wanting to cum too soon, and lifted her onto her feet. She panted for a moment and then laid across the bed, legs spread enticingly. I jumped on that opportunity, and knelt at the edge of the bed. A yelp escaped her lips as I buried my face between her thighs, tonguing her folds with expert finesse. She clutched my head and tugged at my hair gently, moaning and giving small shivers of pleasure as I licked her. I swiped and pressed on her clit with my tongue and circled her entrance with well-practiced ease.

"Oh, oh fuck oppa, it feels so good!" She cried. "Yes, yes, oh god yes, keep going!"

I pushed two fingers into her pussy and pistons my arm back and forth at a very fast pace, grazing her g-spot and making her moan louder, body trembling slightly as she neared her peak. The combination of sensations was quickly driving her to an orgasm.

"I'm gonna c-cum oppa it's too good!" Her whines of pleasure filled my ears, fueling me to go harder, faster. I pumped my fingers into her powerfully, her hands grasping my head crazily and pulling me further in. "G-gonna cum..."

I curled my fingers up into her g-spot and rubbed roughly, which finally did the trick to make her cum. She bucked her hips into my face as she squirted onto me, a gush of liquid spraying over my face and upper chest while she shrieked in pleasure, her hands clutching at the bedsheets.

She fell limp onto the bed again, breathing quickly and shakily as if she'd just run a marathon. I got up, letting her recover for a moment, and then climbed onto the bed.

"Get up."

She obeyed without hesitation, maneuvering onto her hands and knees in front of me, presenting her pussy to be fucked. I moved forward and slid into her tight, wet pussy with a loud groan.

"Mmmph!" She squealed, letting her head fall down so her ass was in the air. A sweet symphony of pleasure began to rise from her as I started slowly, moving my hips back and forth.

"Mmmh yes, that's - fuck..."

Her body pushed back against me, wanting more, and I grabbed her waist and pushed harder, drilling past the resistance and probing deep spots in her.

"Ah...oh god, oh fuck!"

I snapped my hips forward, drawing a cry from her, and picking up my pace, fucking her faster. My first touch on her hypersensitive clit made her gasp, her legs quivering, and then I resumed my earlier fingering of it, all while pounding her intensely.

"Fuck yes, don't stop! It feels so good oppa!"

I slipped my loose tie off my neck and put it around hers, and she gasped sharply as I tightened it and pulled her head back, bringing her torso up as well.

"Mmh yes choke me, pound me harder!"

Her pussy clenched around me and drew a moan from my own mouth, a throaty sound that only served to voice a fraction of the incredibly pleasurable pressure that was being exerted on every millimeter of my shaft.

"You're so big inside me oppa! So good, fuck! You fill me up so good..."

"Fuck!" I pumped harder, giving the tie a small yank, which made her gasp. I slapped her ass hard, making her yelp, and reached around to finger her clit. The blend of sensations and pleasures was rapidly pushing her closer to her climax. Her legs trembled and quivered with each forceful thrust, and her moans started to get louder. I smacked her ass again, and she pushed her hips back against me, meeting my at the apex of my thrusts. Pushing her shoulders down and making her ass stick up, I raised the angle of my movements to go deeper inside her, bottoming out with each stroke.

"Oh god it's so deep, you're so fucking d-deep in me! I'm gonna cum!"

I grunted with the effort of keeping up the strenuous pace, the pleasure starting to overtake me as well. It built, slowly at first but then at an exponential pace.

"God, you're so tight, fuck!"

"F-fuck, I'm cumming..." Natty moaned, voice trailing off in the orgasmic pleasure of her peak. A moment later, her voice erupted in a fresh wail as she reached it. Her juices splattered over my balls and thighs, the sensation proving to be too much for me too.

I buried myself as far as I could go inside her and exploded, groaning loudly as my cum spewed deep into her womb. She moaned again at the sensation and then collapsed, body shaking. I settled next to her, thinking we'd get a quick rest before cleaning up.

...

A while later, I got up and headed to the bathroom. I went to my bathtub and filled it full of hot water and soap bubbles, then went back to the bed and picked Natty up. She was half asleep, but came to full consciousness once I lifted her. I lowered her into the water slowly, and she whimpered quietly at the feeling of the hot water on her hypersensitive pussy. She relaxed and sighed softly once she was submerged, and then I climbed into the tub with her. I moved her in font of me so her back was against my chest, and she rested her head against it languidly, resting in the warmth.

"Thank you oppa."

I reached my arms around her and pulled her closer, kissing her neck lovingly. She moaned softly, hands caressing my thighs.

"You're so beautiful, baby."

She giggled. "So are you."

I chuckled. "I'm beautiful?"

"No." She tilted her head back and planted a kiss on my jaw. "Sexy."

I smirked. "That's more like it."

We sat there soaking in the water for a while more, enjoying being with each other, until I got out, churning the water around loudly, and drained it. It was pretty hard resisting the temptation of fucking her soapy naked body again, but I knew she was tired out for now and wanted to rest. I hoisted her out of the tub and dried us both off, then sat down on the bed with her. She covered the two of us with a blanket and snuggled close to me, looking adorable with her hair all wet.

"Oppa we should watch a movie."

I nodded. "Good idea."

I grabbed the remote from the bedside table and turned on my TV.

"What do you wanna watch babe?"

"I dunno, something...action."

I smiled. "Oh, I have an idea."

Heading over to Netflix, I put on Extraction (this movie is SO GOOD), and settled in for a solid 2 hours of nonstop gunshots , punches, and stabs.

It was going to be a good night.

A/N: Might not be perfect, but as always I'm busy, so I have to do things as quick as I can. I hope you enjoyed!

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

the last great american dynasty

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 6.8k (whoops)

summary:

Joel Miller has loved the historic Victorian home in his neighborhood since the first time he laid eyes on it. When the elderly owner passes, he thinks he might get his chance to finally buy it and fix it up.

He doesn’t expect to find you, the granddaughter of the previous owner and trustee of her estate, standing in the way of his dream

author's note:

inspo board this work is inspired by taylor swift's song "the last great american dynasty" and is part of the folklore album anthology! if you enjoy, please consider reblogging/commenting and make sure to check out the other works by the amazing collaborators on this project.

tags/warnings:

explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), explicit language, no physical description of reader, no use of y/n, work contains journal entries as part of the plot, porn with plot, pre-outbreak!joel, grandma is a named OFC, sassy reader, dirty talk, teasing, praise, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, paint as a flirting mechanism, mild enemies to lovers, pet names. let me know if there are any missing!

August 20, 1948

I have arrived in Texas. I am uncertain where to go or what to do. For so long I’ve answered only to George, but now I am my own woman and the world before me has suddenly become much bigger, seemingly overnight.

I just hope it will be good for me.

-R

PRESENT DAY

If there’s one thing you never expected, it’s to inherit a mansion from a grandmother that you’ve never spoken to. As far as you were aware that kind of thing only happened in movies, so receiving a phone call from an estate lawyer that had been trying to locate you for a whole year since this mystery woman’s passing was a complete shock.

Now you find yourself with a car full of your belongings driving cross country to a sleepy suburb of Austin, Texas. The first stop is the lawyer’s office, where a secretary eyes you warily as you sit in the lobby of the lush office suite, fingers toying with a loose thread on the t-shirt you’d been wearing for the last eight-hour leg of your road trip.

A voice calls your name from a door just past the secretary’s desk, an older man with white hair and a deeply wrinkled face smiling kindly at you. You stand, shaking his hand as you pass by him into his office. He gestures to the wingback chairs that face his impressive dark wood desk. You take in the diplomas on the wall and the floor to ceiling bookshelves lined with thick, leather bound tomes. 

“I appreciate you comin’ all the way out here so quickly. You were quite the tough one to find,” the man says with a chuckle. He pulls out a thick envelope, cream colored with swooping, swirling handwriting across the front reading your name. “Your grandmother was a dear friend of mine. She established a trust in your name not long after you were born.”

“I’m sorry, I guess I’m still a little confused. I didn’t even know I had a grandmother,” you admit quietly. He nods solemnly. 

“She never told me all the details, but there had been a falling out between her and her daughter. They kept their distance after that.” When you don’t say anything, mind too busy racing with the questions that you suppose only your mom can answer now, he continues. “Would you like the review the details of the trust?”

“Um, sure. I guess that’s why I’m here, after all.”

He slips a piece of paper from the folder, sliding it across the desk. The same swirling handwriting fills the page.

My Dearest,

You may not know me, but I’ve watched you grow in photographs and letters since you were born. You mean the world to me, even if I could not fit in the world that your mother created for you. I respected that choice, hurt though it may have.  She had her own path to forge, just as I did, and just as you will. I am eternally grateful for the parts of her life she did share after she left.  

In the event of my passing, I leave my estate to you in its entirety. I built my true happiness in those walls, and I hope you can do the same.

-R

You read the letter twice, eyes stinging with tears. A tissue box slides across the desk, and you pluck two sheets out gratefully. 

“In this envelope are the more official documents. The deed transfer that will need your signature, beneficiary statements for her banking and savings accounts, things like that. My office will handle all the paperwork filing,” the man says. A few more forms are laid out on the desk, and you lean forward to read them. 

“Holy shit,” you snap, eyes wide as you swipe the beneficiary statement from the wood. “There must be too many zeroes in this, right? Or a rogue comma? That can’t be the right amount.”

“I assure you that’s the correct amount,” he says with a laugh. “And if you’ll sign down there, it’ll be transferred to your name and designated account.”

Your mouth goes dry as you read through the rest of the documents. In addition to the sizeable amount of money about to hit your bank account, there’s a five-bedroom house being transferred into your name, as well as a safety deposit box. You sign each form where directed, sliding them back over to the lawyer. 

“I believe this is yours,” he says, holding a house key out to you. He drops it into your open palm. “Good luck.”

“I wish they would just put that place up for sale already,” Joel grumbles from the passenger seat of his brother’s truck as they drive by the out-of-place 1920s Victorian home on their way to a job site. 

“You’ve been sayin’ that for the past year since that poor old woman passed,” Tommy says with a laugh. “Give it up, brother. Your dream house is just goin’ to rot away before your eyes.”

“Don’t you say that,” Joel replies. He doesn’t need Tommy speaking his fear into the universe. 

The house has already been showing signs of falling apart in the last ten years Joel has lived in the neighborhood. The roof needs work, the shutters need replacing, the lawn is overgrown, and there’s a sizable hole in the wrap-around porch that seems to get bigger over time.

He’s wanted that house since the first time he saw it while he was house hunting ten years ago, a then three-year-old Sarah on his hip as he toured a nice little house that was available in the neighborhood at the time. While the home he’s built with his daughter through long days of hard work is nothing to scoff at, he’s always dreamed of something with more character and story. 

He just hopes he’ll get his chance.

You stare up at the old house in front of you, shielding your eyes from the late afternoon sun. It’s a beautiful house, though there’s no denying its seen better days – two stories with large bay windows on both floors, white wood siding and chipped red shutters that are clinging to their rusty hardware, a large wrap around porch that has vines encroaching on the banisters, a lawn overgrown with weeds. You tentatively climb the steps of the porch, peeking nervously into the large hole in the wood to the left of the front door.

“That’s private property,” a gruff voice calls out, making you jump. You turn, finding a man standing on the sidewalk with his arms crossed over his broad chest. “You ain’t supposed to be snoopin’ around.”

“Actually—”

“Why don’t you just head home, sweetheart, and I won’t have to call the cops,” the stranger says, cutting you off. You raise your eyebrows at him.

“This is—”

The man huffs, arms dropping as he digs in the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a cell phone. “Seriously, I’ll give you until the count of three. We don’t need trouble around this neighborhood, alright?”

The nerve, you think, narrowing your eyes at the man. Since he clearly doesn’t want to hear what you have to say, you decide to take a different route. You reach into the pocket of your shorts, pulling out the key that the lawyer had given you earlier that day. You take a sideways step closer to the door, keeping your eyes on the man as you pointedly insert the key into the lock and opening the heavy wood door.

His mouth drops open in surprise and you smile at him.

“You were saying?”

Joel had seen the car parked in the driveway of the empty house when Tommy dropped him off after work. He’d quickly checked on Sarah, newly thirteen and fiercely independent, finding her working on her homework at the kitchen table, before making his way across the street. 

He hadn’t expected to find a gorgeous woman snooping around the old house, curves hugged in denim shorts and a tank top that made his mouth water. He also hadn’t expected the woman to produce a key from the pocket of those sinfully tight shorts.

“You were saying?” You ask, lips curved in a smirk and eyebrows raised at him. When Joel doesn’t immediately reply, still too stunned that you have access to the house, you turn and walk through the door, shutting it behind you. 

He finally shakes himself of his shock, bounding up the steps and knocking on the door. You pull it back open.

“I’ll buy it from you,” Joel says immediately.

“Excuse me?” You reply, your hands moving to your hips. “It’s not for sale.”

“Come on, what’s a girl like you need all this space for?” Your mouth drops open, pretty lips stretched wide in surprise and Joel struggles to keep his thoughts from drifting to sinful places. 

“A girl like me? What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re young, that’s all. You don’t need a house this big and this much of a project!”

“What makes you think I don’t have a big ol’ family I’m moving in here? Four kids and a loving husband?!”

Joel blinks. “You got four kids and a lovin’ husband?”

“No, but that’s besides the point.” You roll your eyes, jabbing a finger at his chest. “It’s not for sale. Now get off my porch before I call the cops on you.”

With that final word, the door shuts in Joel’s face again, the sound of your retreating footsteps signaling the end of the discussion.

November 12, 1948

There’s a gentleman who comes into the diner every Tuesday. He always sits in one of my booths, with his perfect hair and suit and handsome face distracting me until he leaves. Some of the other waitresses try talking to him but he doesn’t pay them any mind. They’ve whispered to me before that he comes from money - oil, or something, not that it matters. 

His name is William, and I think he’s trying to steal my heart.

-R

“So, let me get this straight. First, you threatened to call the police on this woman. Then, rather than introducin’ yourself or welcomin’ her to the neighborhood or even apologizin’, you just go straight to tellin’ her she doesn’t need a house that big and that you wanna buy it from her. Did I hear that right?” Tommy says, watching Joel as he throws together dinner the following evening. 

“Yeah, that sums it up,” Sarah says. Joel huffs.

“Well, when you put it like that.” He sips his beer as his daughter and brother share a look. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothin’,” they say in tandem. Joel narrows his eyes as Sarah breaks out in giggles. Tommy stands, heading to Joel’s pantry and rifling through the shelves until he finds an unopened bottle of whiskey buried in the back.

“What are you doin’ with that?” Joel asks. 

“Welcomin’ your new neighbor like the gentleman I am. Sarah, watch the pasta while I show your dad how it’s done,” Tommy replies, heading for the front door, Joel trailing behind him. 

Tommy crosses the street with quick steps, eyeing the porch dubiously as he knocks on the door. Joel stands beside him, hands shoved in his pockets as he curses under his breath about his brother’s stupid antics.

You open the door, dressed this time in a pretty sundress that makes Joel’s mouth go dry. Tommy flashes you a grin and Joel can’t help the annoyance he feels when his brother’s eyes trail over your body.

“Hey there! I’m Tommy Miller, you may have met my dumbass brother over here the other day. I’m certain he didn’t make the best impression, so I just wanted to come over and welcome you to the neighborhood,” he says, holding the whiskey out to you. 

You introduce yourself, ignoring Joel. “Thank you so much, Tommy. Would you like to come in?”

“Sure thing,” his traitorous brother replies, stepping over the threshold. When Joel makes a move to follow, you give him a pointed look before shutting the door in his face. 

“You want a beer, Tommy?” You ask the handsome man in your kitchen. You can’t help but be impressed by the genetics of the Miller family, both men tall and tan and handsome as hell. Sure, one of them could use a lesson on manners, but you’ll admit that since your confrontation your mind has drifted to thoughts of brown eyes and soft dark hair that belong to the brother you left on the porch out of spite.

“Yes, please,” Tommy says politely. You open the dated refrigerator and grab two beer bottles, popping the caps against the countertop and handing one to him. “This sure is a nice place.”

“Thanks. I just inherited it from my grandma,” you explain. “It’s a little…dated.”

He chuckles. “We call it ‘character’ in contractin’.”

“That what you guys do, then? Contracting?”

“Sure is. Miller Brothers Contracting and Construction.” Tommy scratches at the label on the bottle before saying, “Look, I know my brother can come off the wrong way. He didn’t get the social genes. But he’s a good guy, and he’s loved this house since the first time he saw it. Always wanted to buy it, fix it up, raise his little girl here. Maybe add to his family one day.”

You look around the rundown kitchen. You’ve only been here a day and you know you’ve got your work cut out for you. The electrical and plumbing are all outdated, the appliances need replacing, the floors need to be refurbished, and that’s just the first floor. You could use some help with it all, and maybe the grumpy contractor next door who cares about the house could help you with it all.

“I appreciate that he loves the house but…I never met my grandma. Never even knew who she was or that she was even alive, and it’s the only connection I have to her. I don’t know if this is going to be my forever but…I want to at least give it a shot.”

Tommy smiles. “We could help with that.”

It feels like ages before Tommy’s stepping back out onto the porch, a beer in his hand that makes Joel frown.

“Y’all were havin’ drinks while I sat out here like an ass?” He asks incredulously. Tommy throws an arm around his brother’s shoulders.

“Yes, and if you don’t quit your whinin’ I’m not goin’ to tell you about our lovely conversation,” the younger man says as he walks with Joel back to his house.

In the kitchen, Sarah is pouring the pasta sauce and ground beef over the noodles. Joel takes over and waves her away, mumbling his thanks as he mixes the ingredients together. He sets up two plates, setting one in front of his daughter and sitting down with the other. Tommy makes an affronted sound before fixing his own plate.

“So?” Joel asks. Tommy slurps at his food.

“Was the lady nice?” Sarah asks.

“No,” Joel replies at the same time Tommy says, “Yes.” 

Joel glares at Tommy. “You gonna tell me what she said or what?”

“She ain’t sellin’,” Tommy finally says. “But, she wants to fix the place up. Offered our services so you could get your grubby fuckin’ hands in there.”

“Language,” Joel says, eyes flicking to Sarah. The girl rolls her eyes. “Really?”

“Yep. Better start callin’ the guys. From what I saw we’re dealin’ with electrical from the 50s, plumbing from who knows when, not to mention the HVAC and roof will need to be upgraded, too.” He wipes his mouth with a napkin before grinning at Joel. “You up for the challenge?”

“Hell yeah.”

August 23, 1949

William and I have just been married.

I know, I know. I can’t believe it either. But he is truly the light of my life.

The wedding was charming, if a little gauche. I’m still not abreast of all these new societal expectations that surround a man like William, but I’m willing to try. Today he will be taking me around to view houses in the more opulent neighborhoods, the type of homes I used to gawk at but one of them will be mine.

I must be dreaming.

-R

Joel and Tommy start working on the house right away. Every day there’s a line of pick-up trucks parked on the curb and the sounds of construction start early in the morning and continue into the late evening. The electrician and plumber come through first, updating the wiring and pipes through the whole house. The roofers and HVAC come through next, replacing the crumbling shingles and dated central unit with a split system for each level of the house.

It’s not until the big projects are done that you get to have fun with the place, which is how you found yourself methodically painting the front door a muted lime green early one morning. 

“What do you think you’re doin’?” 

You sigh. Despite Tommy’s assurances that Joel is a great guy beneath the grumpy control freak exterior, you’ve continued to only get the side of the man that grates your nerves.

“What’s it look like I’m doing? I’m painting the door.”

“You can’t paint the door that color,” Joel says, heavy footsteps stomping up your newly repaired porch. 

“Says who?” You retort. You smear another stroke of paint over the sanded wood.

“Me, for one. The historical society, for two.” He pulls the brush from your hand and holds it above his head and out of your reach. The movement drags his shirt up, exposing a strip of tan belly with a trail of dark hair that disappears into the waistband of his jeans.  “Why are you bein’ a pain in the ass?”

“I was put on this earth simply to make your life more difficult, Joel Miller. Isn’t that obvious?” You reply sarcastically. He mumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like you got that right. “What are you even doing over here? It’s Saturday.”

“We’re goin’ to the store. You gotta start pickin’ stuff out for the bathrooms and kitchen,” he says, tossing the paint brush into the tray. “And then we’re gettin’ a new color to cover this up.”

Joel leaves the porch and you follow behind him to the black pick-up truck idling by the sidewalk. He opens the passenger door for you and you raise your eyebrow at the gesture but climb inside.

January 3, 1950

Our New Year’s party is the talk of the town. There were so many people in the house I began to lose count. William had so much champagne ordered I swear we could fill an entire swimming pool with it all. 

The ladies at the club have already begun to ask when we would host our next event. I can’t wait to plan another.

-R

“Can you please focus?” Joel begs, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He’s laid out three tile combinations, one for each bathroom in the home, and he needs you to look at them but you keep getting distracted.

“You’re no fun,” you huff. You examine the tiles, pointing to a turquoise blue one he’s picked for the shower in the master. “I love that.”

He looks at you in surprise. “Well, I’ll be damned. She can be reasoned with.”

You giggle and Joel can’t help the smile it prompts from him, the sound of your laugh so sweet compared to your sharp tongue. 

“I like the white and blue combinations for upstairs, but in that powder room I want a pink theme,” you tell him. Your eyes search the displays, landing on a blush pink glass subway tile option. “Like this!”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” Joel replies without thinking, taking the sample from you and comparing it next to the floor tile he’d chosen for that bathroom. When he glances at you, you’re giving him a confused look. “What?”

“Nothing,” you reply, shaking your head. “What about the kitchen?”

“What were you thinking for in there?”

“Green cabinets. White and black backsplash, the kind with the little hexagons that look like flowers. I gotta pick out appliances now that the electrical can sustain newer ones, too.” You pause. “And how do you feel about wallpaper?”

“It’s the devil,” Joel replies.

Your grin is downright mischievous. “Excellent.”

February 2, 1956

William had a heart attack. It scared me so badly that I haven’t let him out of my sight since. The doctor said he’s been working too hard, drinking too much, and not sleeping enough. Maybe the parties have started to be too much for him. 

I’ve been feeling unlike myself. Tired, nauseated. Hopefully my heart isn’t troubled, too.

-R

Joel places a hefty order for all the items you’ve picked out today from nearly every aisle of the store - tile for the bathrooms and kitchen, vanities and plumbing fixtures, countertops, lighting, and appliances. While he’s preoccupied with calculations and measurements and pricing things out, you pick out paint and wallpaper for the projects you’ll be able to do on your own.

He finds you a while later, a cart full of paint buckets and supplies. To your surprise, he grins. 

“More paint, huh? You pick a new one for the door?” He asks. You smile back at him, butterflies erupting in your tummy. 

“Yep. Does navy blue suffice, your highness? I thought we could paint the trim the same color.”

Joel nods. “Good choice. Look, I’ve kept you here so long for all the orderin’. You wanna get lunch?”

“Careful, Joel. I’m like a stray cat - once you start feeding me, I might never leave,” you reply with a laugh. You push your heavy cart of paint towards the exit.

You miss the soft smile he gives to your retreating figure.

September 23, 1956

Our daughter is here. She’s the sweetest little thing, though she can screech like a banshee when she sees fit. William is so besotted, he keeps looking between the two of us with stars in his eyes like he can’t believe how lucky he is.

I love them both with my whole heart and soul.

-R

Joel takes you to a retro family diner with black-and-white checkerboard flooring and red vinyl accents with a vintage jukebox in the corner. You’re delighted by the themed menu, eyes immediately zeroing in on the classic malt shakes and french fries. 

Over lunch, Joel actually opens up to you. He tells you about going into construction right out of high school and dragging Tommy into it when he’d gotten back from serving his tour with the Army. He talks about his daughter, Sarah, and you can’t help the smile that stretches your lips as you watch his eyes light up while he talks about his little girl. She’s at a sleepover this weekend, which gave him the extra time to visit the home improvement store this morning.

In turn, you tell him about getting the call from the lawyer one afternoon that changed your life forever. How you’d packed up everything you owned and driven across the country to find out that you had a grandmother that your mother never told you about that left you her entire estate. 

“Wow. That’s…wow,” Joel says when you’ve paused to take a sip of your chocolate shake. 

“Excuse me?” A voice asks. You both look up at the elderly woman dressed in a  t-shirt with the restaurant’s logo and pressed slacks. She smiles. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation and ever since you sat down I’ve been wrackin’ my brain tryin’ to place your face and it’s just hit me.”

She holds out a framed black and white photo of six waitresses standing beneath the same sign that’s still out front, all of them grinning at the camera. There’s one face, however, that looks familiar despite you never having seen her.

“Her name was Rebecca. We used to work together. That’s me, right there,” she says, pointing to the girl standing to the woman’s left. “Rolled up to town at eighteen, fresh off a divorce and hardly a penny to her name. My daddy, god rest his soul, he owned the restaurant and gave her a job when she’d come through lookin’ for work.”

“Wow,” you murmur. “This is insane. Do you have any other pictures?”

She gives you a sympathetic smile. “‘Fraid not, darlin’. Just the one. But I know she kept a lot of journals. Was always scribblin’ in one and spent what little extra cash she had makin’ sure she had a new notebook ready. Maybe they’re still around?”

July 16, 1958

William…

William is gone. My light, my love, my world. The doctor said his heart just…stopped. In his sleep, right beside me. 

I have to continue to live with a hole in my own heart, the piece that William stole years ago gone with him. 

But I have to be strong for our daughter. Our brave girl, my little bird.

-R

When Joel brings you back to the house, you stare up at the facade, wondering if the journals the woman had spoken about could still be inside. Lost in thought, your eyes land on the little window that sits above the bay windows on the second floor, where the master bedroom is. You’ve been sleeping in that room for months now and you know there’s no window there that you can see from the inside. 

“Hey, Joel?” You call out, eyes still fixed on the little window like it might disappear if you look away. “This place is only two stories. How come there’s a window there?”

He looks up at the roof. “Huh. Might be decorative?”

“Or it might be a secret room,” you tell him.

“Okay, Sherlock. Let’s go see.”

You lead him upstairs to the master bedroom, most of your grandma’s furniture still present save for the bed that you replaced upon arriving. You stare up at the ceiling, but it’s smooth - no trap doors to be found.

“If I were a secret door, where would I hide?” You ask.

Joel, who’d been poking his head into the walk-in closet, replies, “Probably the closet.”

There’s a creak of old hinges as Joel reaches up high and tugs the brass pull handle fixed in the ceiling. A descending ladder falls to the ground and you both stare at each other in surprise.

“I’ll go grab a flashlight,” Joel offers, sprinting from the room. You stare up at the hole in the ceiling, anticipation thrumming in your veins.

He returns quickly. “I’ll go up first.”

“Ever the gentleman,” you tease, watching as he ascends the ladder, your eyes shamelessly fixed to his ass as he climbs. You hear the click of the flashlight and see the sweep of the beam through the opening in the ceiling. “Anything?”

“Lots of suitcases. Hang on, let me grab one of the small ones,” he calls down. There’s the sound of something being dragged across the floor before he’s slowly lowering a leather suitcase into your hands. 

It’s surprisingly heavy and you drag it by the handle to the bedroom, kneeling on the ground to pop the latches and open the dusty lid. Inside are stacks of leather bound notebooks, edges of the pages yellow with age. 

“I’ll be damned,” Joel says, wiping his palms against his jeans. “We found the journals.”

Joel drags the suitcase downstairs, setting it in the living room for you while you order pizza and open a bottle of wine for the occasion. You sit beside each other on the couch and he hands you a journal that you carefully open. 

May 17, 1974

We had another argument last night. She claims that I’ve been too overbearing, too protective, too stifling, but what else is a mother meant to do? 

-R

May 18, 1974

Her bed was cold and empty this morning. Her piggy bank smashed to bits on the floor and her drawers cleared. Despite my tight grip, my little bird has flown away.

It appears that history does repeat itself. Imagine that.

-R

“Holy shit,” you say, sitting back on the couch with your glass of wine in one hand and one of your grandma’s journals in the other. “She ran away.”

“Who did?” Joel asks, biting into a slice of pizza. 

“My mom. She just…packed up and disappeared.” You glance at him. “Guess that’s why I never knew about her.”

“Maybe you should stop uncoverin’ dark family secrets for the night,” Joel suggests. “You know, the dining room could stand to be painted.”

You glance over to the room in question. Joel must have set down the drop cloth on the floor while you’d been engrossed in your discovery.

“Sure. Why not,” you acquiesce. 

October 29, 1976

I’ve received an envelope of photographs in the mail, pictures of my daughter holding a little baby. She’s written notes on the back of each one. I’m a grandmother.

My daughter looks happy. Healthy. That’s all I can ask. She didn’t provide a return address. 

As for the baby…I love her so much. She takes my breath away. I keep one of the photos on me at all times.

-R

Joel turns on the radio while he works, humming along to the classic rock station selections. He’s been working on painting the wall near the wood molding while he left you with a paint roller to cover the middle of the wall. He looks up at you occasionally, admiring the way your muscles work as you wash the wall with color. 

You must sense that he’s watching, turning your head over your shoulder and looking at him curiously. “What?”

“Nothin’,” he says. You smile at him, setting the roller in the tray. He can’t help but look at your ass in your tight leggings as you bend over.

You straighten up, walking over to him. There’s a glint in your eye that has Joel on high alert.

“You got a little something on your face,” you tell him. 

“No, I don’t,” he counters. He’s a master at painting. He knows damn well he doesn’t have a drop on him.

“Yeah, you do,” you argue. You reach out, and your fingers smooth across his forehead. “Right there!”

Joel’s mouth drops open in surprise and he lets out a bark of laughter, bringing his fingers up to his forehead. When he pulls his hand away, they’re stained blue and you’re grinning at him like a mad woman.

“Yeah? Well, you got some right—“ He smears his paintbrush across your chest and you try to step back, but it’s too late. “—there,” he finishes.

You rush back to the paint tray and dip your hands in the liquid, brandishing your palms like weapons. He starts to advance on you, smirking as you back up.

“Stay back,” you command. Joel laughs, dodging your swinging arms as he charges, dropping low to press a shoulder into your belly, dragging you down to the ground in a heap of limbs.

He presses his body to yours as he reaches an arm out to the paint tray, covering his own hand in paint. Your eyes go wide and you squirm beneath him, your paint covered palms reaching up under his shirt to press the cold liquid to his ribs. He flinches away, giving you enough room to scramble out from under him.

Joel grabs your arm, paint smearing on your skin as he tugs you back down. You wrestle together, paint getting everywhere as he lets you straddle his waist. His hands grip your hips, fingers pressing tightly as he stares up into your face.

“You win,” he murmurs, voice low. Your lashes flutter, hips canting over the obvious bulge in his jeans. He groans, hands urging you to do it again.

“What’s my prize?” 

Joel slips his fingers beneath the hem of your tank top, dragging the paint stained material up and over your head and tossing it aside. His gaze burns across your newly exposed skin.

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, you know that?” He says, a hand sliding up your belly to palm one of your breasts. Your head drops back as you moan. 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you reply. He chuckles, a deep rumble in his chest as his eyes grow darker, his gaze more heated. “Come on, Miller. What’s my prize?”

With a growl Joel sits up, wrapping an arm around your low back and twisting your bodies until you’re on your back, staring up at him as his lips stretch in a devious smirk. His fingers curl into the waistband of your leggings, sliding the fabric down your legs. His touch paints your skin blue as he does.

His hands press your thighs apart, opening you up. Your cheeks heat as he stares down at you like he’s trying to commit every curve of you to his memory. Finally, he leans in and you can feel his breath ghosting over your heated flesh.

Joel’s tongue traces through your slick folds, a broad stroke that has you gasping and arching your back. He hums against your sensitive flesh as he repeats the languid motion, his stubble catching on the soft skin of your inner thighs.

You reach your hands down to tangle in his hair, paint catching on the strands as you tug and pull. He groans against you, tongue moving faster as he circles your clit before pulling it between his lips. A hand leaves your thigh, the one not coated in paint, and two thick fingers press to your entrance, sliding inside of you as you gasp out Joel’s name.

“Christ,” he groans as he presses in deep before withdrawing slowly, curling his digits against your front wall, “you’re so fuckin’ wet, pretty girl. That for me?”

“Uh huh,” you reply, breathless as you work your hips to the rhythm of his fingers. Joel watches you, his lips and chin shiny from his efforts. “Joel, please!”

“Please what?” His hand moves faster, fingers pressing harder as his lips spread in a lascivious grin that makes your toes curl. “Come on, baby, ask me real nice and I’ll give you anythin’. Ain’t that right? You know damn well you’ve had me wrapped around your sassy little finger since the moment we met, don’t you?”

You whine, nodding your head quickly. “Knew you were a glutton for punishment.”

“Could say that again,” he says, chuckling as he lands a smash to the outside of your thigh with his free hand. “Now, come on, baby. Follow directions. Tell me what you want.”

“Wanna cum, Joel. Please!”

“Good girl,” he growls, lowering his lips to your pussy to lick at your clit. He hums as he lavishes the sensitive bud with attention and it’s the final push you need over the razor's edge you’d been teetering on since he started. You press your thighs against his head as your nerves light up and your muscles go tight with pleasure, his movements slowing as he works you through your release.

Your muscles go limp, head dropping back to the floor with a thunk. Joel sits up, crawling up your body and trailing kisses across your tummy and chest in the patches of skin not covered by paint. He grips your chin, holding you steady as his lips press to yours in a kiss so deep you worry you’re at risk of drowning.

Your hands fumble with his belt, pulling the leather free of the loops in a frenzy. He stands quickly, freeing himself of his jeans and boxers in one motion before reaching behind his head to tug his shirt off while you admire his labor-toned body.

Joel drops to his knees, pressing his hips to yours and dragging the thick head of his cock through your sensitive pussy, bumping your clit and making you both groan in tandem. His forearms rest on the floor beside your head as he teases you like this, slow drags of his length through your wetness, the tantalizing catch of him at your aching hole. You tilt your hips slightly, hoping he gets the hint, and he chuckles.

“You know the drill, baby,” he says, breathless with his own desire. “Just say the word.”

“Fuck me, Joel, please.”

His cock slips inside of you with little resistance, the stretch of him making you gasp. His eyes remain fixed to yours as he bottoms out and you smile up at him, reaching up to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

Joel gives a small, experimental thrust that makes your eyes roll back with pleasure. He does it again, a sharper snap of his hips making you cry out and dig your nails into his shoulder. He builds his own rhythm, one that has your hips chasing his on every pull from your body, one that has you chanting his name and staring up at him like he’s a god and you’re simply a sacrifice on his altar. 

He sits back on his heels, the angle changing as your hips get lifted onto his lap. His hands wrap around your waist, fingertips pressing tightly to your ribs as he uses your body for his pleasure, pounding into you roughly.

“Cum for me again,” he demands, bringing a thumb to your clit in quick circles. “Come on, sweetheart, want you to cum on my cock. Was so pretty on my fingers.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes at the near overstimulation but you nod, wanting to give this man whatever he wants if it means he’ll keep touching you, holding you, looking at you. 

You cum again with a shout of his name and he groans, deep and visceral as he presses in deep, holding your hips to his as his cock pulses inside of you with his release.

Joel slowly lowers your hips to the ground, withdrawing from your body as he does. He flops gracelessly to the floor beside you, sweat damp chest heaving with exertion. His head turns to yours, grin wide and eyes bright.

“You’re covered in paint,” he comments, reaching out to run his hand across a streak on your collarbone.

“So are you,” you reply, mimicking the gesture against his ribs. 

“What do you say to a shower?”

You smirk at him before jumping up and racing to the doorway. 

“I’d say last one there doesn’t get the hot water!”

You can hear his curse as you rush up the stairs, making it halfway before a strong arm wraps around you and stops you in your tracks, your laughter echoing through the house.

June 27, 1993

The neighborhood has changed so vastly. Much of the older homes have been torn down and replaced with less handsome architecture. The residents grow younger while I continue to age. Just last week a handsome young man and his darling daughter moved in down the street. He looks exhausted. I remember those days.

Not all the neighbors are lovely. Harold next door has an annoying dog that barks at all hours. He prances her around like a show pony, when she’s just a yappy little creature.

-R

ONE YEAR LATER

The house is finally finished. All the tile has been laid, everything has been painted, appliances delivered, holes repaired, fixtures installed, and wallpaper glued. You go downstairs for coffee in the morning, you take it to the parlor room you’ve made into a study. Floor to ceiling bookshelves display every journal you’d unearthed from the hiding place in the attic, each one read through cover to cover. 

When you finally told your mom about what you’d been up to, her surprise and hurt could be felt even through the phone. You mailed one of her mother’s journals to her.

“I’m sorry,” she said the next time you spoke. “So much time had passed and I didn’t know how to fix what I’d broken.”

You don’t begrudge her decisions. Your grandma left you her story, and through that you’ve been able to know her.

Heavy footsteps on the stairs precede Joel’s appearance in the study, his hair messy from sleep and his eyes half shut. He drops beside you on the couch, grabbing your coffee from your hands and taking a sip of it.

“Is it everything you’ve always wanted?” You ask him, tilting your head to his shoulder. You still remember the way he’d been desperate to buy the house from you and you laugh at how the world works, given that he now wakes up in bed beside you and is tasked with the lawn maintenance every weekend. He presses a kiss to your head. 

“It’s even better.”

June 29, 1993

I don’t think the dog will be bothering the neighborhood again anytime soon.

Turns out he doesn’t hold as much pride for the dog when she’s been dyed lime green.

Imagine that.

-R

Want more Joel Miller? Check out my masterlist!

[marsplastic13]

'Complicated' (Part 5) - Kaz Brekker x reader

Idea - Kaz Brekker hires a prostitute to overcome his touch aversion, and be a better man for Inej, but things take an unxepected turn. Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Prostitute!Reader, (had to use y/n because I'm bad at names) Genre: modern AU, slow burn word count: 7.8k notes: please let me know what you think <3 @millercontracting @coldmermaidhologram @syd649

He saw her stop in the middle of the room, peek outside, and gesture for him to come up. His heart raced as he climbed the stairs, his mind a swirl of alcohol-fueled thoughts and emotions.

The lights in her apartment were soft, incense was burning, and low music was playing. “What do you want?” she asked, crossing her arms. Her tone was challenging, yet familiar.

Kaz looked around, his eyes stopping on the open luggage on her floor. “Are you going somewhere?” he asked, trying to focus on something mundane to steady himself.

“Yeah, a week away with a client, in two days.” Kaz thought that at least they wouldn't risk running into each other when Inej was there. He tried to feel relieved, but the feeling eluded him.

“Lawyer again?” he asked, forcing a casual tone.

“Surgeon,” she smirked.

He chuckled, nodding. The tension between them was palpable, and he struggled to find the right words. “Inej is coming, and you are panicking,” she stated, sitting on the bed and moving her book away to make space for him.

“Yes,” he sighed, sitting next to her, the familiar comfort of her presence not quite soothing his nerves.

“You're going to be good, Kaz. Don't worry.” She reached out, placing a reassuring hand on his arm.

He glanced at her book, desperate to change the subject. “What are you reading?” he asked, gesturing to it.

“Fairy porn,” she said seriously, meeting his eyes with a deadpan expression.

“Is there a moment in your life when you're not thinking about sex?” he asked, half-amused, half-exasperated.

“No,” she replied with a grin.

He hummed, leaning back against the pillows. The soft lighting and soothing incense did little to ease the turmoil in his mind. “I'm sorry for the other day,” he said, the guilt gnawing at him.

“I am too,” she replied, her voice carrying a hint of regret. She shifted slightly on the bed, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the blanket.

Kaz looked down at his hands, the memory of their last encounter vivid in his mind. “I hate your nails,” he muttered, a weak attempt at humor to mask his discomfort. He couldn't shake the feeling of inadequacy that had settled over him.

“I know,” she said, a small smile playing on her lips. She glanced at him, her eyes softening. In such a short time she managed to know him well enough to see through his facade, to recognize the vulnerability he tried so hard to hide.

Kaz closed his eyes, the euphoric rush of the alcohol leaving him sleepy. Inej would arrive in less than 10 hours, and he was far from home. “You never told me what piercing you got,” he mumbled, making himself comfortable between the pillows.

She snorted. “My nipples. Wanna see?”

He laughed, more a growl than a laugh. “Of course you did.”

“Kaz, answer me,” she sing-songed, getting closer.

“Actually, I want to see them,” he said, forcing his eyes open. Curiosity and a strange sense of defiance stirred within him.

She smiled, lifting her shirt. He had never seen her completely without a bra, never seen a pair of breasts in front of his eyes, to be precise. “Did it hurt?” he managed to say, finding that he couldn't look away.

“A lot.”

Kaz hummed and poked one of her breasts with his finger. “Soft,” he mumbled, his voice a mix of awe and embarrassment.

She burst out laughing, pulling down her shirt. “Baby, I know that you're drunk, but please remember to never, and I say never, poke your girlfriend’s tits with your finger.”

He chuckled, flushing. “What should I do with them?” he asked, poking her again.

“You should touch them above her shirt, like squeezing a bit. You can kiss them, you have to, trust me. Oh I could talk about them all night.  Bite them if she likes, play with her nipples, use your fingers, your tongue, your teeth—”

“I can't,” he said, frowning, his eyes closed again. He felt overwhelmed by the flood of information and the surrealness of the situation.

“You'll get there.”

“No, I mean, your piercings must still hurt. I can't play with them. I'd really like to, though.” The honesty slipped out before he could stop it.

She held her breath. “Kaz, we were talking about your girlfriend.”

"Right, right, no problems then. I should go now." He tried to sit up, but his body felt heavy and uncooperative. His limbs felt like they were made of lead, weighed down by the alcohol and the intense emotions of the evening.

"Kaz, you're drunk. You can't drive. Can I call you a taxi?" she asked, her voice softening slightly with concern.

"Can you drive me back?" he mumbled, trying to muster enough strength to move.

"My license is suspended," she admitted, looking away for a moment.

"Why?" he asked, genuinely curious despite his inebriated state.

"They caught me drinking and driving a few times," she replied nonchalantly, as if it were no big deal.

"Bad girl. Inej would never," he said, a mix of disapproval and envy in his voice. He couldn't help but compare the two women, his thoughts a tangled mess of guilt and desire.

"I'm sure she wouldn't," she said with a small, almost sad smile.

She studied Kaz getting sleepier and sleepier. “Kaz, if you want to stay here, just ask.”

“Can I stay here?” he said without hesitation, the need for comfort overriding his better judgment.

“Yes. Do you need a hand to undress?”

He shook his head, determined, his long fingers stumbling across his buttons. “Maybe I do.”

She got closer, helping him out of his clothes until he was in his underwear and shirt.

They lay next to each other. He couldn't keep his eyes open, but he pulled her closer leaving some space between them. “You're really handsome, do you know that?” she said, tracing his nose.

He smiled into the pillow. “You're not bad too.”

She smiled. “Goodnight, Kaz.”

“Wait, can I get a kiss?” he pleaded.

She sighed dramatically, planting a delicate kiss on his cheek. “Did you become shy?” he asked with a cocky smile, eyes still closed.

She chuckled, leaning in again and kissing the corner of his lips. “Such a tease,” he murmured.

“Show me what you want, Kaz,” she whispered back. Without looking, he reached for her, kissing her lips with an intensity neither of them expected.

“I won't stop you,” she murmured against his lips.

“I'm drunk,” he said, as if it justified him in some way.

“I don't care.”

“I don't believe it,” he leaned in to kiss her again.

“You paid for having me. I will have you, Kaz, right now.”

“I can't even think straight.”

“I'm not Inej, love. I won't hesitate.” That made him stop and curse under his breath. The name of his girlfriend snapped him back to reality, and he let her go.

Kaz woke up with his head pounding from the alcohol, the shame about how he behaved the night before, and nervousness for Inej's arrival. His girlfriend was arriving, and he was in another woman's bed. He had to get a grip on things again.

She was sleeping beside him. She always looked a bit sad when she was sleeping. He shifted position, trying not to wake her, but he failed miserably. She opened her eyes abruptly, “Kaz! Are you trying to stick your dick in my ass without warning or something?” she said, annoyed, squirming away from him and closing her eyes again.

He sighed, asking himself why she was always so direct and vulgar. “Wake up, I have to go,” Kaz felt so guilty toward Inej he needed to leave as soon as possible.

“Breakfast?” she asked with her eyes closed.

“Fine,” he conceded. It would be rude to say no, right?

She slowly got up, stretching a bit. “What do you want? I have coffee and weird things.”

“Whatever you're having is fine,” he started to get dressed. “Are you sure?” she grinned sleepily.

“Yeah.”

She left the room and came back with two cups of coffee and two large glasses of water. They both sat on the bed, balancing them on the nightstand. Then she proceeded to align pills: “Iron, Vitamins, Hair supplements, collagen.” She slid two of each, one toward him and one toward her. “Birth control for me, aspirin for you,” she completed, satisfied.

Kaz raised his brows, concern etching deeper lines on his already tired face. “This is your breakfast?” he asked, disbelief evident in his tone.

She nodded, unfazed, and started to pop pills into her mouth one by one. Kaz watched her, his skepticism growing. “Have you ever tried, I don't know, to eat real food?” he pressed, taking only the aspirin she had handed him.

She shrugged nonchalantly, taking the last pill with a sip of water. Kaz frowned, his concern mounting. He knew her lifestyle was far from conventional, but this was a new level of worry for him. “You can't keep living like this,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

She met his gaze, her expression indifferent. “I’m fine, Kaz. This is what works for me.”

He shook his head, frustration mingling with his concern. “But it’s not healthy. You need proper nutrition, not just supplements.”

She rolled her eyes, clearly tired of the conversation. “I get what I need. Don’t worry about me.”

Kaz sighed, feeling helpless. He couldn’t shake the image of her popping pills like candy, the empty routines she was trapped in. He wanted to help, but he didn’t know how. “You deserve better than this,” he said softly, more to himself than to her.

She smirked, brushing off his words. “I deserve whatever I can get, Kaz. Don’t make this into something it’s not. I am not your problem.”

He fell silent, the weight of their complicated relationship pressing down on him. He wanted to argue, to tell her she was worth more, but he knew it wouldn’t make a difference. So, he simply nodded, his heart heavy with unspoken concerns.

 “I saw Inej's last post.” y/n quickly changed topic, “She's so fucking flexible, I almost envy you,” she said, sipping the coffee. “We would make so much money working together,” she blurted out, before covering her mouth with her hand and widening her eyes. “Fuck, that's a terrible thing to say, given her history. Don't tell her I said it.”

Kaz openly laughed. “Sure, because I usually tell her everything you say to me.”

“No, right,” she chuckled.

Kaz was about to leave when his eyes lingered on her. “Enjoy this time, Kaz. You're going to be great,” she encouraged him, and he felt a bit better.

“Enjoy your trip,” he said back before leaving.

The moment Kaz spotted Inej in the harbor, all of his doubts and confusion shattered. There she was, beautiful as ever in her blue flowy dress, smiling brightly at him. His heart ached with the realization of how much he had missed her. He hugged her tightly, inhaling deeply her familiar scent, pressing a kiss into her hair. “What happened to you?” Inej asked with wide eyes, pulling back to look at him.

“I missed you,” he shrugged, trying to downplay the intensity of his feelings. He felt a mix of relief and guilt, knowing that he had been seeking solace elsewhere just hours before.

They got in the car, and Inej started fidgeting with the music. “Who did you let in this car?” she laughed, “What's with all this Taylor Swift?”

Kaz shook his head, trying to keep y/n out of his mind. “Probably Nina,” he raised his shoulders, trying to sound nonchalant. He stopped at a traffic light, and absentmindedly placed his hand on her thigh. 

“What are you doing?” Inej shoved his hand away with a laugh, breaking the momentary connection he was trying to establish. Kaz hoped that his disappointment wasn’t written all over his face.

They spent the day running errands around the city, the normalcy of it all a stark contrast to the chaos in his mind. By the time they collapsed on his couch, he was exhausted. Inej pulled a small toy from between the cushions, the same one y/n had found in the Happy Meal. Kaz realized in that moment how present y/n was becoming in his life, even in small, unnoticed ways.

“What's this?” she asked curiously, holding up the toy.

“I got a Happy Meal some time ago,” he tried to sound casual, but his mind raced with the implications.

“What are you, four? I can’t leave you alone for a second,” Inej nestled against his shoulder, her warmth a comfort. Kaz thought about how true her words were, how much he shouldn’t be left alone.

Inej turned on the TV, and Kaz just opened his mouth to suggest a show, but she cut him off. “We are not watching your crime show, it’s boring.”

Kaz rolled his eyes, sighing as he leaned into her. The familiar routine was soothing, yet his mind kept drifting back to the previous night. He felt a pang of guilt and worry, knowing he was hiding so much from Inej.

Inej noticed how tired he was and suggested, “You can go to bed if you want to sleep.”

“We could share the bed if you want,” he said softly, the words slipping out before he could overthink them.

“Are you sure? It won’t bother you?” she asked, her concern genuine.

“I’ll survive,” he said with a cocky grin, trying to mask his nervousness. They settled into bed, closer than they had ever been. Kaz wanted to kiss her, but he thought that they had seven long days ahead of them. It could wait.

When he woke up, he felt disoriented. The familiar scent of cherries was missing, and it took him a minute to adjust his thoughts to the situation. Inej was already up; he heard noise in the kitchen. “Morning,” he whispered in her ear, kissing her head.

She was shorter than y/n, he thought, the comparison unbidden and unwelcome. 

Inej hummed happily, making breakfast. They ate, chatting about the news. At a certain point, a sequence of messages made Kaz's phone vibrate incessantly. Kaz frowned, seeing Jesper's name in the notifications. He forwarded Kaz a link to the Ketterdam Daily.

“Four girls arrested in the middle of the night: young illegal sex workers caught in an unsuspecting neighborhood.”

Kaz's stomach sank as he rapidly read through the article, catching snippets like “constant noise,” “men coming and going,” “large quantity of cash found in the house.” At the end, there was a picture of the arrest. Three girls were in the background, but the focus was on y/n. She was in panties and a bra, with 50 kruge hanging out of it, leaning toward the camera, giving a good look at her cleavage. A policeman was taking her hands behind her back to put her in handcuffs, and she was sticking her tongue out, grinning like a fool. They blurred her eyes to protect her identity, but it was unmistakably her. And she looked like a movie star.

For a good instant, Kaz stared at the picture, amused by her carelessness. He couldn’t help but marvel at her audacity. Here she was, in a situation that would have most people feeling terrified and humiliated, yet she treated it like a game. That grin, that defiance in her eyes—she was a force of nature, untamed and unpredictable. Then, concern crept in. It was 10:03; her plane was supposed to leave in 10 minutes. Kaz got up, going outside to call her, while Inej called for him, not understanding what was happening. She didn't pick up, maybe she was still in jail. The most selfish thought made its way into his mind: maybe she wasn't going to leave for a week, maybe the police wouldn't let her go. He didn't want her to suffer, and yet, he couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of relief at the idea of her being nearby, where he could keep an eye on her.

He tried to ignore the thought and started texting her.

‘y/n, I just saw about yesterday, where are you?’

‘Are you okay?’

‘Do you need me to pick you up?’

Kaz was about to type a fourth text when she answered with a picture. She was on the plane, probably first class, a shot of two glasses of champagne clinking together. One in her hand, and the other in that surgeon's she was supposed to be with. ‘Don't worry,’ she wrote.

Kaz let out a breath. How was he supposed not to worry when she was arrested just the night before and he didn't know it?

‘He's taking good care of me :)’ she added.

Of course, that surgeon must have known some good lawyers and got her and her roommates out in no time. Kaz refused to acknowledge that what he was feeling was just jealousy for not being the one she called for.

Inej reached him with a worried face. “Kaz, what happened?”

“Nothing, Nej, just work,” he tried to sound light.

“Uhm, if you say so,” she replied, still looking concerned.

***

Kaz did it. He finally gave a proper kiss to Inej. It was a shy kiss at first, anxiety knocking on his brain, but then he was able to let go. After all, he had practiced a lot. A pang of guilt hit him—using one of y/n’s “great kissing moments” instead of coming up with one of his own.

Kaz and Inej were in his car, parked outside her house. He was dropping her off for the night before heading to the Crow Club to do some work. They had just gone out for dinner, and their conversation flowed easily, laughter punctuating their words. She looked beautiful, her smile bright in the dim light, and he couldn't resist any longer. The moment felt right.

As he leaned in, Kaz felt a wave of nerves, but he pushed through. He felt her holding her breath when he let his tongue slip into her mouth; she definitely did not expect it. The kiss deepened, and for a moment, everything else faded away. When they finally pulled back, they smiled at each other, a silent acknowledgment of a new step in their relationship. His gaze followed her as she entered her building, and he couldn't help but feel a rush of joy.

Driving to the club, Kaz smiled so widely that his cheeks hurt. His mind was buzzing with excitement, but amidst the euphoria, a nagging thought kept resurfacing—he wanted to tell y/n. He tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the happiness of the moment. Kaz considered telling Jesper, but Jesper spent the whole night talking to a boy, and Kaz didn't want to interrupt.

Around 4 AM, Kaz pulled out his phone, deciding to text y/n. But before he did, he checked Instagram to see what she was up to. The first picture on his dashboard was hers: she was on a yacht at sunset, in a gold bathing suit. The girl was on her knees, head thrown back, pouring champagne from an expensive bottle onto her body. A man, probably the surgeon, was caught in the act of licking the champagne, his tongue just above her navel. His face wasn't very clear, and of course, he wasn't tagged.

Kaz froze, his happiness suddenly feeling trivial. Here he was, ecstatic about a single kiss, while y/n was living a life of wild extravagance. The image of her, carefree and bold, made him feel like a fool. He shoved his phone back into his pocket, a heavy weight settling in his chest. The night felt colder, and the euphoria of the kiss was replaced by a gnawing sense of inadequacy.

***

Inej left the same day y/n got back, promising to return in two weeks. They had spent their time together exploring the depths of each other's desires, though Inej never explicitly signaled what she wanted. Kaz wanted to feel every centimeter of her body, but he cursed himself for being used to y/n’s responsiveness. They kept their hands mostly in neutral places, which was a significant step forward for him, but it left him wanting more. A few months ago, such intimacy would have been impossible, so he tried to stay positive.

He wanted to sleep with Inej so badly that it consumed his thoughts. He laughed at himself, thinking about how proud y/n would be if she could peek inside his mind. But with that thought came a wave of anxiety. What would happen between him and y/n once he finally dealt with his issues? Would they just stop seeing each other? Rationally, yes, but y/n was the only person who listened to him talk about his favorite show. A sad thought crept in: "Because you pay her." Bitterness filled his mouth as he wondered where the character ended and where the real y/n began.

Kaz tried to distract himself by assembling some dinner. The house felt empty without Inej. He checked his phone to text her but found a message from y/n instead.

‘New address’

Of course, she had to move after the arrest. He was about to leave her on read when she sent a picture of a small shop bag that looked like it came from a touristy shop.

‘Got something for you, love-bird’

‘Do you deserve it?’ she added.

Kaz snorted. ‘I guess you’ll be the judge of that’

‘Come over?’

Kaz sighed, torn between what he should do and what he wanted to do. Inej’s perfume still lingered in his house, and he was already considering spending the evening with another girl. But he was curious and wanted to share the progress he had made. Kaz always felt like y/n never really judged him, apart from playful banter.

He considered it. He was just going to have a chat, he told himself. He wasn’t paying her, so they wouldn’t touch. It was basically like seeing Jesper, Kaz tried to justify.

‘Be there in an hour’  he replied, feeling a mix of excitement and guilt.

y/n opened the door of the new house, her cheeks and nose still a bit sunburnt, giving her an innocent look that definitely did not fit her usual demeanor. But she looked beautiful, Kaz admitted to himself.

“Do you like the new room?” she asked, letting him in. It was bigger than the old one, with a lot of her stuff still in boxes and her luggage half unpacked on the floor.

“Yeah, not bad,” he commented, looking around.

“Can I sit? My leg is killing me today,” he said, motioning to the bed.

“Take a chair,” she said quickly. “Nasty things happened on that bed.”

Kaz raised a brow. “You came back a few hours ago and already had a client over?”

“Oh no, I had sex with my roommates,” she said nonchalantly. “When we move, we do it in every bed of the house.”

Kaz avoided her gaze to process the totally unrequested information. “All together?”

“Yeah, it’s like tradition,” y/n shrugged, a bit satisfied at making him embarrassed.

They updated each other about her holiday and his days with Inej. “I kissed her,” he finally said with a grin.

“With tongue?” she leaned in, intrigued.

“Yes,” Kaz sighed, satisfied, and she squeaked, hitting his arm.

“You're an animal, Brekker. So proud of you. How was it? I want details.”

“Of which time?” Kaz leaned back with a cocky grin.

y/n screamed in excitement, and he marveled at her reaction. How could a person so used to kissing people be so happy for a few pretty much innocent kisses? Well, his thoughts weren't exactly innocent, but that wasn’t important.

y/n retrieved his gift and handed it to him. “Condoms, how thoughtful,” he laughed nervously, the usual blush creeping in. It was the first time he had one in his hand; the colorful packages had writings of the cities she'd been to.

“They are just for display. I got them in a gift shop. Never use them, love. I swear your dick is going to fall off, and she's going to get pregnant even before you put it inside,” she said, half serious and half laughing.

“First of all, why do you always have to be so graphic? Second, why does this feel like something that happened to you?”

y/n actually froze for a moment, her lips parted. For the briefest second, Kaz felt like he was seeing her for the first time, her mask slipping. It was so fast that he doubted he had really seen it. Her usual smile returned. “Oh baby, that's a story for another time. I made my mistakes so that you won’t,” she tapped her finger on his nose, like a mother lecturing a child.

Kaz wanted to ask more, to know what he had triggered with what he thought was an innocent joke. He searched her face for a crack in the facade, a sign of the vulnerability she had shown for just a heartbeat. Did she get pregnant at some point in her life? Was she forced to make difficult decisions? Kaz had always been a private person, but maybe she could beat him. He asked himself how someone could be so careless and chat about the most uncomfortable things ever like it was nothing, and never reveal anything at the same time.

He watched as she turned away, her movements deliberate, as if she were putting distance between them to hide the truth. The thought of her experiencing such a thing gnawed at him, a mix of empathy and frustration swirling within him. How could she talk so freely about graphic details and yet keep the most important parts of her life so well-guarded?

Kaz's mind raced, piecing together fragments of their conversations, trying to make sense of the puzzle that was y/n. She had always been an enigma, someone who seemed to live without fear or hesitation. But now, he saw a glimpse of the cracks beneath the surface, the scars that she kept hidden.

“So, what do you have in mind for our next session?” she asked casually, checking her phone.

“Foreplay,” he said quicker than he intended.

“Someone’s got his ideas straight,” she commented, looking at him over her phone.

“When are you free?” he asked.

“Now,” she said, letting her eyes wander over him. That was unexpected. “Saints, Kaz, I’m kidding.”

“Sorry, I—”

“Making impure thoughts, love?” she asked, leaning in. Yes, he definitely was. Since he had managed to kiss Inej, it was the only thing he could think of.

“Shit, go take a cold shower and stop looking at me with those manic eyes. I’m such a bad influence on you,” she laughed, and Kaz thought she was absolutely right. But apparently, she wasn't done playing with him. She slowly moved to sit on his lap, giving him all the time to stop her if he wanted to. He didn’t.

“Tell me more about these kisses,” she whispered, cradling his head in her hands. “Were they like this?” She gently pressed their lips together. “Or were they like this?” y/n let her tongue slip into his mouth, and instinctively he hugged her tightly, letting the familiar cherry scent invade him.

“We should stop,” he whispered in her mouth after a while.

“Then stop,” she replied simply, pressing their lips together again. It took him more than he cared to admit to let her go, leaning back to create some distance between them.

“Good boy,” she said, licking her lips.

Kaz sighed heavily. “Time to go,” he whispered, and she got up to let him leave.

***

"Say it again," y/n said seriously, her head resting in his lap, while Kaz absentmindedly scratched her head. The bra she was wearing that day was without cups, completely see-through, and her piercings kept stealing his focus. He sighed, trying to stay composed despite the distracting view. 

"Always take my time, never rush her, make her come at least once," Kaz recited dutifully.

"And?" she urged him to continue.

"I'm not saying or going to do that," he protested, clearly annoyed.

"And?" y/n repeated, moving his chin to redirect his gaze back to her face.

Kaz hesitated, obviously embarrassed. "Never force her head down and ask before coming into her mouth," he muttered under his breath. "I would never do that. Why do you make me keep saying it?" He felt almost offended by the implication.

She redirected his eyes again, laughing at how red he kept becoming every time she caught him staring. "Because no one ever sucked your dick and you have no idea how much control you're going to lose."

Kaz felt a rush of shame about his inexistent experience. He hated feeling this vulnerable, hated the way her words cut through his defenses.

Her voice softened, he never heard her talking so tenderly, “Remember to tell her she's pretty” she said tracing his nose, before going back to her usual demeanor. 

y/n got up from his lap, stretching a bit. "So, enough theory. Time for practice, seduce me baby."

Kaz looked away, his mind racing. The intimacy they shared was confusing, a mix of instruction and genuine connection that left him feeling exposed. He knew she was trying to prepare him, to make sure he didn't mess things up with Inej, but it was hard to reconcile these lessons with the reality of his feelings.

Kaz let out a nervous laugh. "I don’t know where to start," he admitted simply.

"Liar, you’re just embarrassed," she said, raising a brow.

"Yes, I am embarrassed, y/n," Kaz said, frustrated. "Why is it so hard for you to see it?"

y/n frowned at his reaction. "Calm down, love. I was just trying to lighten the mood. We can keep talking if you want."

Kaz took his head in his hands, feeling a mix of annoyance and self-reproach. He didn't know if he was more upset with her or with himself. "I'm just nervous," he said more softly. "I don’t know how to approach this without betraying her."

y/n made her way between his arms. Kaz was really surprised to find out how clingy he was; he never thought of himself as that kind of person. He had always prided himself on his independence, on his ability to maintain control and keep others at arm's length. Physical closeness had always been a challenge, something he shied away from, but here he was, craving the comfort of her touch.

He wondered when this change had occurred. Was it gradual, creeping in slowly over time as he grew more comfortable with y/n, or had it always been there, buried beneath layers of self-imposed isolation? He had always been wary of relying on others, afraid of the vulnerability that came with it. Yet, with y/n, he found himself leaning into the very thing he had avoided for so long.

Kaz realized that despite his initial reluctance, there was a part of him that needed this connection, this human touch. It was a need he had never acknowledged, even to himself. y/n's arms around him, her gentle touch, provided a solace he didn't know he was missing. It was a confusing mix of emotions—guilt for finding comfort in someone other than Inej, gratitude for y/n's understanding and patience, and a deep-seated fear of what this newfound dependency meant for him.

As y/n scratched the back of his head, he couldn't help but relax into her embrace. He felt a pang of guilt, knowing that this comfort came from a relationship that was, in many ways, transactional. But he also recognized the genuine care she showed him, the way she listened and supported him without judgment. It was a rare and precious thing, and he couldn't deny how much he needed it.

"Let's set some boundaries then," she said, scratching the back of his head. Kaz hated how good her paid cuddles made him feel, how desperately touch-starved he was. He had always considered himself strong, resilient, but this vulnerability exposed a different side of him. A side that longed for connection, for the warmth of another person. It was a humbling realization, one that forced him to confront the walls he had built around himself.

He sighed, leaning into her touch despite himself. "Inej means everything to me. I don't want to do anything that would hurt her or make her feel less important."

y/n nodded, her expression thoughtful. "I understand, Kaz. And it's good that you feel that way. It shows how much you care about her. Let's make sure whatever we do here is about helping you be the best for her, okay?"

"Okay, uhm, I don't want you to do... things to me," Kaz forced the words out of his mouth, the weight of his anxiety heavy on his chest, "but I... would like to get accustomed to doing some things to you. To know if I can do them with her."

y/n nodded thoughtfully. "Seems right, but remember that you won’t know what she likes until you are with her, so you might have to adapt to that."

"I know," Kaz said, his voice wavering. "I have to be sure I won’t panic and throw up or run away or—"

"Kaz, breathe."

He took a long, shaky breath, feeling like all the progress he had made was slipping through his fingers. The girl sensed his weariness and settled herself on top of him, her eyes locking with his. "Tell me to stop, and I will," she said, waiting for his nod before she proceeded.

With slow, deliberate movements, y/n unbuttoned his shirt and helped him out of it. She guided him to kiss her neck, his hands resting on her waist. As he started to get comfortable, she moved his head to her cleavage. His kisses were hesitant, his hands trembling slightly as he reached for the back of her bra.

"Go on," she encouraged, and he managed to unclasp it easily. His fingers, so skilled at cracking safes, adapted to this new task effortlessly. y/n removed her bra, and Kaz felt a surge of panic, his mind filled with confused images of Inej, Inej whom he had never even seen change clothes.

"Breathe, love. Stop when you want," she reassured him. But he didn't want to stop. He wanted to push through the fear, to prove to himself that he could do this.

y/n tenderly talked him through it, her voice a soothing anchor. "Start with your hands, you won’t hurt me," she murmured. "Try your mouth, baby." 

Kaz followed her guidance, his touch growing more confident with each passing moment. He traced his fingers delicately across her skin, feeling the warmth of her body beneath his touch. y/n's soft moans escaped her lips, muffled and heavy with desire, and Kaz found himself emboldened by her responses.

"You're so good," she whispered, her voice breathless with arousal, her head arching back slightly. Her piercings, cold against his tongue, added a layer of sensation that heightened his awareness of every movement, every touch.

As Kaz explored her with a mixture of curiosity and determination, he couldn't help but emit quiet, satisfied hums. Each sound was a testament to the growing confidence he felt in his ability to please her, a reassurance that he was on the right track. Despite the lingering guilt and uncertainty, he found solace in y/n's encouragement and the genuine pleasure she expressed.

Her body responded to his touch, arching subtly beneath him, and he continued, guided by her subtle cues and occasional whispers of approval. The intimacy of the moment enveloped them both, forging a connection that went beyond physical sensation.

For Kaz, this experience was a revelation—an opportunity to confront his fears and insecurities, to push beyond his comfort zone. In y/n's reactions, he found validation and a sense of accomplishment, despite the lingering doubts about his own readiness.

As he explored this new territory, Kaz felt a mix of emotions—fear, excitement, guilt. Each touch, each kiss was a step closer to the intimacy he craved with Inej, but it was also a reminder of the distance he still had to cross. y/n's moans were real, her guidance sincere, and in that moment, he was grateful for her patience and understanding.

His mind flickered back to Inej, the girl he truly wanted to be with, and he hoped that when the time came, he wouldn't be paralyzed by fear. He wanted to be ready, to give her the intimacy she deserved without hesitation.

Kaz's hands moved with more certainty, his kisses deeper. y/n's reassurances wrapped around him like a safety net, and he allowed himself to get lost in the moment, knowing that this was a crucial step in overcoming his fears. 

After a while, she cupped his face and kissed his lips, guiding them to lay on their side. y/n threw a leg over him, pulling him closer. Kaz had one arm under her, hugging her, but he wasn’t sure of where to put the other. They left each other's lips for a moment, and she took his hand and placed it on her thigh, then went to kiss him again. His hand was trembling, “Breathe” she reminded. 

Kaz was painfully hard, the friction between him and y/n threatening to unravel his restraint. She moved with a sinuous grace, arching her back, rolling her hips against his, and kissing his neck provocatively. Each movement intensified his arousal, making him struggle to maintain composure.

"Should I stop?" y/n's voice was breathless, filled with anticipation.

"No," Kaz managed between heavy breaths, his desire building with each passing second.

Her moans grew louder as she pressed closer, urging him on. "Kaz, please, touch me," she pleaded, her voice a mix of desperation and desire.

Her plea sparked something primal in him, a surge of power he never felt. His hand hesitated briefly at her lower abdomen before trailing lower, teasingly slow, as he explored the contours of her body.

But just as things were escalating, Kaz's phone buzzed loudly, shattering the intense moment with an annoyed grunt. He reached for it reluctantly, glancing at the screen with a sinking feeling. "y/n, it's 8 pm."

"What? Fuck, fuck, fuck! I have a date. How could you tease me like that for three hours?" y/n exclaimed, scrambling to find her clothes in a hurry.

Kaz motioned for her to be quiet as he called Jesper back, his mind racing with excuses. "Jes, I know I'm late. I was sleeping," he explained as soon as his friend picked up.

"I'm at your house, Kaz," Jesper replied curtly.

"Fuck," Kaz sighed, frustration mounting as he saw y/n still searching frantically. "Yes, Kaz, fuck," Jesper retorted before Kaz ended the call abruptly to avoid any further chastisement.

"Can you drop me off at that bar with the French name? It should be on your way home," y/n asked as she finally located what she needed from the wardrobe.

Kaz considered his lateness but relented with a nod. "Be quick," he urged.

As y/n grabbed his hand, she maneuvered him in front of her wardrobe. "Pick me an outfit, love? I need to shower," she said hurriedly.

"What? No, how can I?" Kaz protested, feeling out of his depth.

"He's a man, you're a man. Just pick something," she insisted, rushing out of the room with a small towel wrapped around her body.

Kaz sighed heavily, feeling the weight of the situation, but reluctantly selected two outfits. To his surprise, y/n returned sooner than expected, munching on a tomato.

"What are you doing?" Kaz asked incredulously.

"Having dinner. Where's my outfit?" she quipped casually, prompting Kaz to point out his choices.

"You have taste, baby," she teased, a playful grin on her face. Kaz found himself unexpectedly charmed by her banter, a reminder of the easy familiarity that had grown between them over time.

While y/n changed, Kaz emptied his wallet onto her nightstand, sorting out the cash he owed her. "I don't have any more cash. I'll send the rest to your card," he informed her.

"Thanks," she replied casually, unruffled by the business-like transaction.

He always wondered about her earnings, knowing she was usually booked solid even before he arrived. The thought of how much she made, especially on extended holidays, intrigued him, though he never quite dared to ask outright.

They got into Kaz's car, and without hesitation, his hand found its place on her thigh, seeking the closeness they both craved. "Fuck, I can't believe you left me so on edge. I'm going to die before I get home," she remarked, unable to hide her frustration.

y/n shifted restlessly beside him. "You're not sleeping with him?" Kaz asked casually, trying to ease the tension.

"He wants to take things slow," she replied with a hint of amusement.

"How are you going to survive?" Kaz teased, lightening the mood.

"I'll manage," she sighed dramatically, her hand resting comfortably on his.

Kaz hesitated briefly before admitting, "Inej didn't like it. She shoved my hand away."

"Oh, Kaz, I'm sorry. You really seemed to like it," y/n replied sympathetically, her tone softening.

"You like it," Kaz pointed out, giving her a sideways glance.

"Yeah, I don't have a problem admitting that," she shot back with a grin. "I like it too. She never rejected me before. I know it's stupid, it's just a hand, but it felt weird."

"Your feelings aren't stupid," y/n reassured him, her voice gentle as she stared out the car window. "And I imagine for you, a hand on a thigh is like climbing a fucking mountain."

"It is," Kaz admitted quietly, grateful for her understanding.

When they reached the bar, Kaz dropped y/n off and drove on to face a very angry Jesper, knowing he would have to deal with the consequences of his delay.

***

A few days later, Kaz and Jesper were talking outside a shop. Jesper had convinced Kaz to go shopping together, and since Kaz still had to be forgiven for disappearing the other day, he couldn't refuse. As they chatted, Jesper's brows suddenly shot up. "Can't believe this, turn around."

Kaz turned and spotted y/n leaving a lingerie shop with several bags and a stroller. She seemed to be chatting animatedly with the baby inside. Kaz thought that she would probably talk to a rock if left alone long enough. The two men exchanged puzzled looks as y/n noticed them and waved with a smile, crossing the street to reach them.

"Who's that?" asked Kaz, a mix of curiosity and confusion in his voice. Could she be so private about her life that no one knew she had a toddler?

"Oh saints, don't make that panicked face. It's not like it could be yours anyway," she said lightly, rolling her eyes. "It's my friend's. I'm letting her parents have some time together."

Kaz let out a small sigh of relief. "What's with these hideous glasses?" he asked, reaching to take off her large sunglasses. y/n quickly shoved his hand away.

"I just got Botox. I'm all purple," she replied nonchalantly.

Kaz raised an eyebrow. "You took a toddler to get Botox and to a lingerie shop?"

"And now we are going to do our pretty nails, right baby?" she cooed, and the baby nodded enthusiastically.

"Fucking finally, they're horrible," Kaz commented, taking her hand in his gloved one to study it better.

"Isn't he a sweetheart this morning?" y/n said toward Jesper, pinching Kaz's cheek.

Jesper scoffed at their interaction. He had never seen anyone, not even Inej, touch Kaz's face like that. "And then are you going to have lunch at some point?" Jesper marveled at how Kaz's voice softened.

"If I have time. How should I do them?" she asked, looking at her nails.

"You know how I like them." Kaz's response made Jesper's jaw practically hit the sidewalk, but the two seemed totally unbothered.

y/n took out her phone to reply to a text, and both men's eyes widened. "That's your card?" asked Jesper, pointing at the black credit card in her phone case. Not even their boss had a black credit card.

"I wish. A client gave it to me to get a little treat," y/n said with a satisfied smile.

"Surgeon?" asked Kaz, puzzled.

"CEO," she winked. "Don't ask, I had to sign an NDA."

Kaz thought about this really rich and powerful man waiting on the same couch as he did, to spend a few hours with y/n. He couldn't grasp the concept. 

Jesper scoffed heavily again, his disappointment written all over his face. "You know, you were much funnier before you decided to judge me for my job," y/n said harshly.

"You call that a job?" said Jesper.

"Yes, I call it a fucking job."

"Jesper, let it go," Kaz intervened with a dangerous glare.

"The girls were thinking Crow Club for tonight," said y/n to Kaz, steering the conversation away from the conflict.

"Do you need a table?" he asked immediately.

"It's fine, some guys are taking us," she replied with a tight smile. After y/n left, Jesper looked at Kaz, disappointed.

"Kaz, come on, how are you not seeing it?"

"See what?" Kaz's patience was wearing thin.

"She has you wrapped around her finger."

"She's a professional, Jesper."

"And what were all those laughs and touches, and what the fuck does it mean that she knows how you like nails? The only nails you're supposed to like are your girlfriend's," Jesper spat, his tone dripping with disdain. "You're letting some hooker play house with you, Kaz. Do you even hear yourself? It's pathetic."

"She's also a human being, Jes. You can't treat her like that," Kaz snapped back, his eyes narrowing with anger. "And you know what? I'm a fucking human being too, even if no one seems to care about that."

"Oh, spare me the self-pity. You think anyone else would put up with this crap? You're losing it, Kaz. You're letting her turn you into some lovesick idiot," Jesper shot back, his voice rising.

Kaz felt his blood boil, the anger and frustration bubbling over. "Fuck you, Jesper," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Just because you can't understand it doesn't mean it isn't real."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that," Jesper sneered. "You're fooling yourself if you think she gives a damn about you."

Kaz stormed away, his fist clenched around his cane. He didn't need this. He didn't need Jesper's judgment or his condescension. As he walked, he tried to shake off the bitterness and focus on what mattered: finding his own way, no matter how messy or complicated it might be.

[idy-ll-ique]

All Mine.

Pairing: Andy Barber x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Warnings: age gap, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, squirting (damn)

Requested: nope

Summary: Andy Barber has been through a lot. After getting a divorce from his ex-wife, he moves into the house next to the Y/L/Ns. And he has his eyes on Y/N since day one. Little does he know, Y/N likes him too and things get interesting one night.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! Before you ask, no, I haven't watched Defending Jacob yet because I do not have the attention span to watch an entire series. So yeah, this has no spoilers. Also, I'm asexual so don't @ me for the smut please and thank you. Enjoy!

---

"Good morning, Mr Barber!"

He looked up from his phone and saw his neighbor smiling at him. He grinned back at her, his mood immediately lightening. "Hi, Y/N! How many times have I told you, call me Andy," he chided gently, keeping his phone away. "Okay, okay, just feels a little weird, ya know? Anyway, what are you doing here? You almost never take the bus," Y/N chuckled.

He flashed her another grin, his boyish side automatically coming out. It always happened when she was near. Y/N Y/L/N was Andy Barber's cute neighbor, but the only thing is, she was way, way younger than he was, her parents were just a couple of years older than him. Despite the huge age-gap, Y/N had won his heart. And he didn't mind in the slightest.

"My car broke down yesterday, it's at the auto repair shop. I got no other vehicle," he shrugged. Y/N nodded just as she saw her bus approaching. "Are you getting on this one?" she asked him and he squinted. "Nah, not this one. Are you?" She verbally confirmed a yes and turned to look at him fully. "I'll see you later, Mr Barber, bye!" With that, she waved at him and stepped into the bus.

"Andy!" he mouthed when she sat near the window seat, giggling. "Andy," she repeated, winking at him just as the bus turned around the corner. A laugh involuntarily escaped his lips as he ran a hand through his hair. Oh, what am I gonna do with you, angel? Inside the bus, Y/N had to keep herself from fidgeting, too overstimulated after her conversation with the handsome lawyer.

She had had a crush on him ever since he had moved in next-door. Her parents had immediately invited the lone man to dinner and he had, thankfully, accepted. They had a lot of fun; Andy was a proper gentleman, well-spoken, intelligent and extremely handsome. Y/N got a crush on him on the first day itself. She knew about the things his family had been through, and the thought crushed her.

Can't even imagine, your own child, guilty of murder?

Andy and his ex-wife, Laurie had divorced immediately after their son's trial. It was all months ago, though, Andy was doing much better now. He had Y/N, after all. In his thoughts only, but that would suffice. Because he knew, she'd never fall for him. Why would she? He was much older than her, a divorced man, with a son who got convicted for murder.

But Y/N didn't care about any of those things. She liked the Andy who was her awesome, good looking and smart neighbor. That's all that mattered to her. But then came another problem, Y/N's parents. Would they be okay with her going out with him? Of course not! Y/N sighed and leaned her head against the window of the bus; oh God, what ever was she gonna do?

Andy had ruined all men for her.

---

"Come in!"

Looking up, a surprised gasp left the mouths of both; the person inside the office and the person at the door. "Y/N?" Andy blurted out. "Mr Barber?" Y/N blinked as well. "Andy," he corrected incessantly and she waved her arm in dismissal. "Wow, I, uh… I didn't realize— you don't have a name plate outside—" He motioned to the chair in front of him and she sat.

"What happened, darling?"

Y/N unconsciously shivered at the nickname. She loved it when he called her that. "I don't know, my colleague sent me here, she was busy… gave me the address and said there was a file she needed…" Y/N spoke unsurely. Her eyes quickly skimmed over his figure; he had taken off the trenchcoat he was wearing in the morning, leaving him in a tight, white shirt, black trousers and a tie hanging loosely around his neck.

The top three buttons of his shirt were undone, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. Y/N concluded that he looked insanely gorgeous. "Does your colleague happen to be Mrs Renoir? She told me she was coming to get the file." She smiled and nodded at him. "Yes, Mrs Renoir, that's her." Andy smiled back and took out a file from his drawer. "Here you go."

She accepted the file, stowing it away in her bag. "I'll see you!" She moved to get up but Andy tutted, checking his watch. "Why don't you stay, Y/N? It's getting late, we can go home together," he spoke, his eyes soft as he gazed at her. She froze for a moment. "Um, it's fine, I can—" He was shaking his head. "Y/N, if something happens to you, I'll not be able to forgive myself."

What's going on? "Mr Barber—" "Andy." "What do you mean?" He got up from his chair and moved to the couch that was in the room. She sat next to him. "You never stay out this late, Y/N, your parents told me you're usually at home by 8:30. It's almost midnight, and I can't let you venture into the city all alone at this hour. Do you know the dangers that lurk at night?"

Y/N's heart started thudding in her chest. Indeed, this was new to her; and before even meeting with him, she had been scared of roaming the city alone at night. "I don't," she muttered truthfully, looking up when Andy placed his hand on her thigh. "It's okay. You can stay, I just need to go over a few more things and then we can go home, hm?" Y/N grinned and nodded.

Andy lifted his hand off her thigh and went back to his desk. He began scribbling something on a paper, which Y/N realized was a form. After admiring him for a few minutes, she took out her phone and scrolled through her messages. She had already texted her mom about staying out late, and her mother had complained until Y/N told her she was out for business, not fun.

As time passed, Y/N's shoulders sagged. Her eyes drooped, heavy with sleep. "Andy," she whined in a sleepy stupor and his head shot up, "Are you done? I wanna go home!" His dark eyes softened instantly and he chuckled. She looked cute when she was sleepy. "Just a moment, darling, I'm almost finished." Y/N simply groaned and threw her head back against the couch.

"All done."

Y/N opened her eyes and saw Andy fixing his appearance, before shrugging on the coat. Then he turned to her, offering her his hand with a smile. She took it and heaved herself up, stumbling a little but Andy was there to hold her up. Effortlessly wrapping an arm around her waist, he guided her out of his office, switching off the lights and locking the door.

Both of them walked out of the building and Andy got Y/N seated in the passenger seat of his car. "I thought your car was at the auto repair shop?" Y/N remembered. She felt his chuckle next to her ear as he reached over and fastened her seatbelt and then his own. "Went to get it in the afternoon because I realized buses aren't for me." She giggled and leaned back against the seat.

"Why don't you try and fall asleep? I'll wake you up," he whispered, his heart swelling in his chest when she nodded meekly. "Goodnight, Mr Barber." He still corrected her, "Andy." Truth be told, Y/N didn't want to call him Andy because that would only make her feelings worse. If she called him Mr Barber… that was a constant reminder that he was a man much older, a successful lawyer, and just her neighbor.

Nothing else.

"Such a sweet doll." Ever since he heard her whining his name in his office, his mind had clouded over with lust. She sounded so fucking beautiful when she said his name. And suddenly, all he wanted to do was to claim her on his couch. He had controlled himself easily, he knew he had to wait till he had her consent. Which he thought he'd probably never get.

---

"Thank you so much, Andy!"

"Oh, it's not a problem at all, Mrs Y/L/N. Y/N is great company and I admit, the house does get a little lonely at times," Andy chuckled as Y/N's mother beamed at him. Y/N was looking down at her feet, clutching the handles of her travel bags. She was going to move in with Andy for a few weeks, since her room was getting renovated. There was no other place in the house.

When Andy heard that, he had instantly offered that she move in with him for the time-being. And Y/N's parents were, surprisingly, ecstatic at the idea. "She can move into the guest bedroom," he had spoken at the time. That's how she ended up here; now following Andy into his house as she yelled her goodbyes to her parents. "Welcome! It isn't much, I hope you like it still."

Y/N looked around in awe. The place was well-kept, the colour theme for almost everything was either beige or brown. It all looked very modern and cool. "Are you kidding? This is awesome!" He chuckled at her enthusiasm. "Let me show you to your room." Both of them walked up the stairs and stopped at the first door. Andy opened the door and another gasp left her lips.

"Wow," she whispered automatically and Andy smiled to himself. "I take it that you like it," he drawled, closing the door behind them as they walked into the room. Y/N kept her luggage on the bed and sat down, swinging her legs. "Thanks for all this, Mr Barber, it's appreciated." He scoffed. "Andy," he rectified, "And it was not a problem at all, Y/N, you're my friend."

A chill ran down her spine. His friend? He considered her to be a friend? "A friend, huh, I'm… I'm honored," she chuckled and he grinned. "I'll leave you be now, get comfortable." He waved at her and left the room, going downstairs to get a glass of water for himself. Y/N spent the rest of the day at her place, only returning at nighttime after dinner.

That's how it went for a week. She'd be at her job most days, would have dinner with her parents at night and then would finally walk into Andy's house to get some sleep. She liked the routine, and so did he. When she wasn't at her job, she'd spend the day in the living room of her own, or rather, her parents' house. Only, something changed a week later.

Andy was running late that day. As he drove home, at nearly 1:30 am, he was sure that he was going to be greeted by a quiet and empty house, Y/N already asleep in her room. She always fell asleep before 11:30, he didn't know how she did it. After parking his car in his garage, he walked into the sitting room only to see Y/N sitting in front of the television. She looked up and swtiched it off when he walked in.

"Mr Barber, hi." Her voice was hoarse. "Y/N? Darling, is everything okay?" he asked worriedly, sitting next to her. The dried tear stains on her cheeks made it clear that she had been crying. "I'm fine," she insisted, in vain. Andy gently cupped her cheeks, running his fingers over the stains. "You've been crying, honey, tell me what happened. I'll make it better," he whispered and Y/N melted against him.

"Um, can I… can I please… can I hug you?"

Without another word, Andy pulled her to him, her head resting on his chest as his arms wrapped around her middle. She snuggled into his side. "I just had a bad dream," she mumbled, burying her face in his chest. His arm rose and he delicately cradled her head, massaging her hair with his fingers. Y/N whimpered at the soothing sensation and Andy's heart raced.

"I'm here now, sweetheart, you have nothing to be worried about. I'll protect you, come what may," he uttered softly, almost in a daze. Something inside Y/N stirred deeply when he said those words. She pulled away slightly and he looked down at her, a questioning look on his face. Y/N blushed under his intense stare. "I, um… can I… kiss you?" Her question made Andy's heart beat faster.

Consent? Check.

Gently grabbing her jaw, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, pulling her into his lap. Y/N kissed back just as fervently, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Do you know how long I've wanted to do that?" Andy asked huskily upon pulling away. "How long?" Y/N squeaked. "Ever since I first saw you. You won my heart right there, Y/N, right at that dinner. The moment I saw you, I knew that you had ruined all women for me."

"Same. I mean, I— not women, obviously, I'm not attracted to other women— men, but—" Andy chuckled and kissed her again, cutting off her rambling. "God, I need to feel you, love, why don't we go upstairs?" It turned out to be a rhetorical question as he immediately stood up, easily carrying Y/N up the stairs. Y/N wrapped her legs around his torso.

He placed her down on his bed, in his bedroom and settled between her legs, hungrily kissing down her body. He used his tongue to stimulate her first, pulling orgasm after orgasm after her. She had never had these many orgasms in one night and that wasn't lost on Andy. "No one has ever made you feel this good, right, darling? Only I can do it this good." Y/N whined loudly when his tongue circled her bud.

"Bet those nasty boys your age have never made you feel this way. Worshipped. You're mine, Y/N, only mine. Say it." Y/N was too overwhelmed to respond, only a pathetic "yours" leaving her lips as she came again. For the… third? No, fourth time? She definitely lost count. "You're so fucking gorgeous," Andy moaned as he emerged from between her thighs, his jaw and chin covered in her juices.

He had eaten her out so well, like her a hungry man offered a meal after a long starvation. Like she was his last meal. Y/N blushed at the sight of him, covering her face with her hands. Andy easily shoved the hands aside, leaning in to kiss her. "All mine. Beautiful. Mine, only mine," he grunted possessively and Y/N gasped when she felt something poking her thigh. She looked down and saw him. He was giant.

"It's too big," she blurted out and Andy chuckled, giving her a soft kiss on the forehead. "You'll be okay." Grabbing the base of his shaft, he slowly pushed inside of her, giving her time to adjust to his size. Y/N winced at the burn on her hips but when he bottomed out inside her, all the pain was replaced by pleasure. "Fuck, so fucking tight," Andy helplessly groaned, leaning forward and resting his forehead against her shoulder.

"Please, please move." Andy complied, thrusting into her at a slow pace at first but when he was certain she was able to handle it, he sped up. Y/N moaned right into his ear as he nibbled on her neck, leaving behind dark, red marks. Now everyone will know she's taken. The moan fueled his libido and he sped up more, growling deep in his chest.

Y/N's eyes flew open at the animalistic sound and she gripped his shoulders, trying to steady herself as she moved like a rag doll against him and his powerful thrusts. "Scream my name, darling, tell everyone who's making you feel so good. Tell everyone you belong to me and me only. You're mine, all mine. I'm never letting you go," he snarled as he neared his release. "Andy," Y/N screamed shamelessly.

"That's it, doll. Months, for months I've tried to get you to say my name. Is that why you've been avoiding it? Can't help but imagine being under me and moaning my name every time you heard it?" he groaned brusquely and Y/N jerked, her orgasm hitting her unexpectedly. "Yes," she whimpered at his previous comment but Andy couldn't speak. Holy shit, she just squirted all over my bed.

His taut abdomen, his shaft, his thighs and his bed were all drenched. Y/N was lying on the bed, her eyes closed, convulsing as she reeled in from the first-time experience. "Shit, baby, do you see this? You just squirted all over me," Andy laughed breathlessly, leaning over to press his lips to hers. Y/N cocked an eye open as a blush spread across her cheeks.

"I what?! Oh my God, I'm so sorry—"

Andy entered her core with one swift motion, shutting her up. "That was fucking hot, doll, do it again," he urged and resumed his fast pace. Y/N cried out tiredly, her eyes landing on the clock in the corner of the room. It's been an hour?! How much energy does this man have? "Andy, I'm—" He was already close to his release and when she took his name, he was done. He pulled out of her and spilled his seed all over her chest and face, groaning loudly.

Then he spit on his fingers and brought them to her bud, furiously rubbing until she squirted again, right on his face. "Oh my God," Andy groaned, licking up and swallowing all her juices. "Andy, I'm tired…" She couldn't even lift a finger, that's how spent she was.

Andy was a sight. All wet, from top to bottom, covered in her juices, he looked like he had just stepped out of a swimming pool. "Okay, baby girl, get some sleep. I'll take care of you." And he did, he gently cleaned her up as she dozed off, and carried her to her room. He then hopped into the shower for a quick wash, dried himself up, put on some boxers and went to Y/N's room as well.

The bed in his room was… well, let's just say it was done for. He was going to be throwing the mattress out the next day, he knew that. When he walked into her room, his heart melted at the sight of her deep asleep, still naked, curled up on her side. He shut the door behind him and walked towards the bed, easily sliding in next to her. He pulled the covers on top of them and pulled Y/N into his arms, dropping a kiss to her shoulder.

"I love you, angel. So sweet, only mine."

---

A/N: This is the first time I've posted smut and a non-marvel fic 😳 I know it's probably not that good but thanks for reading anyway! Leave a like if you enjoyed!

[wonlouvre]

pairing: doctor!wonwoo x lawyer!female oc genre: modern royalty, arranged marriage, fluff and future angst word count: 1,787 warnings: mentions of food, skipping a meal, fainting

author’s note: part 2 is here and i am excited! i received the support that some of you have given by liking and reblogging and i appreciate it so much! please do share some of your thoughts. i’d love to hear from you. for some reference on what our Prince Wonwoo wore on this chapter during the first few bits: here. 

two: what could have been | masterlist

“What?”

One of these days you’re going to start blaming Wonwoo for the unusual accidents that happen whenever he is around or whenever his name is brought up. It’s a relief that you didn’t trip, again, because you were more than sure that making an abrupt stop while wearing heels can lead to several painful possibilities. 

“You okay?” Jeongyeon was quick to hold on to your arm, helping you find your balance again. She’s definitely not risking anymore injuries especially now that there’s no Doctor Jeon around. 

“What did you just say?” You repeat as you try to compose yourself and start walking across the hallway like how you were supposed to in the first place. 

Jeongyeon blinks at you for a few seconds before gasping, “Oh, right! According to my sources, apparently the long term girlfriend was actually the one for Prince Wonwoo,” she says casually as if she’s just dropping the weather report for the day. “He had plans to propose.”

Propose?

“By sources you mean?” You ask. The lawyer in you is making sure that this is nothing but a baseless rumor and also the rational person in you is making sure your head doesn't get clouded by jealousy.

Me? Jealous? Your left eye twitches at the thought.

“Dr. Kwon also known as Hoshi,” she answers like they have been friends for ten years. “He’s the Prince’s friend from primary school up to medical school.”

“How do you even know this Dr. Kwon?” You ask while narrowing your eyes at her. You are nowhere near done verifying her sources.

Jeongyeon sheepishly smiles before giggling nervously. “Well…”

You sigh. Jeongyeon can be brilliant but she could go overboard at times. “Don’t tell me he works at the same hospital as Wonwoo and you yourself went there?”

“I had to!” She defends, stomping her feet. “You told me to go look up some info and I did. I just wanted to do a good job while I was at it.”

You close your eyes in defeat before pulling her close to whisper a reminder to her ear, “Next time, let’s tone down the enthusiasm, alright?”

She just grins. “No promises.”

Were you threatened by the recent information your assistant just shared to you?

No, of course not.

Were you bothered?

Yes. Absolutely. One hundred percent. 

You’re bothered because you can’t help but think about what could have been.

What could have been for Wonwoo and this mystery girl. You suddenly feel terrible. All this time you were okay with this arrangement. In fact, you were beyond okay already. But, how about Wonwoo? Sure, maybe you thought he could be against this marriage. But, it didn’t cross your mind what he could have left behind back home. What he had to give up and what he had to let go.

“Hey.”

All your thoughts and worries flushed down the drain in an instant at the sound of the voice you’re starting to grow fond of.

Wonwoo arrived like a breath of fresh air with his light blue button down and jeans. The glasses are a bonus that you are lucky to see for the first time. You weren’t aware that he wore them. In fact, you have never seen him wear casual clothes until today. If you were frowning earlier, you are blushing now because of how good he looks. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he sincerely apologizes as he walks towards you. “I’m not gonna lie. I overslept.”

Come to think of it, you have been standing outside this terrace for quite a while now. Thinking too much can be a good distraction to the point that you won’t even notice that you have been waiting.

You cleared the rest of the afternoon to sneak in some wedding planning. Meanwhile, Wonwoo decided to take the night shift yesterday and take today off to join you. 

You shake your head and give him a small smile in understanding. “It’s okay. I just arrived too.”

That was a lie, but it doesn’t matter. Especially now, in spite of getting the right amount of sleep, you can tell that he is still tired and sleepy. And, adorable. But you would never let him know that.

“It didn’t look like it though,” he counters, making your brows raise. “You looked like you were already here for a while. A penny for your thoughts?”

Your eyes roll at his teasing tone while he just smirks. 

But then, you figured since he already asked, this could be the right time. “Can I ask you something?”

Wonwoo crosses his arms, pretending to contemplate your request. “It depends. Am I in trouble?”

“No,” you deadpan. “You don’t have to answer though. That’s what I can guarantee.”

“Fine by me.” He relaxes his arms to his sides and stands close to the railing you were leaning your body weight against. 

Well, okay.  Your palms suddenly started to sweat. Maybe it’s a bad idea to pry about his past. What’s the point of bringing it up? What do you need out of this anyway? Why the bother? 

Yeah, let’s just not, you decided to drop it but Wonwoo already beat you to it.

“Let me guess,” the Prince noticed your silence and decided to take the matters in his hands. “Is it about my ex-girlfriend?”

Heat immediately rose to your cheeks, embarrassed by how could you let it get this far. “I’m sorry. Nevermind. Let’s just go inside. They’re probably ready for us.” 

You were fast to lift your feet from the ground and honestly,  if you could, you’d run away and never return. But, Wonwoo was faster. He was faster to grasp your hand and make you stop from taking another step in a heartbeat. 

You’re not one to let your head hang low and avoid eye contact, but here you are doing everything in your power to not meet Wonwoo’s eyes. You’re also not one to grow flustered easily. You always know what and how to make the last say.

But again, here you are tight-lipped and wishing to be buried underground. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he promises while tilting his head to the side, searching for your eyes. “I’m not making fun of you and I understand that it’s inevitable for this to be not brought up.”

You relent by nodding and finally turning your body to face him. “Okay.”

Wonwoo smiles and caresses the top of your head. “This is not something you should be worrying about.”

His brazen touch made you feel small yet comforted. 

“Do you really want to marry me Wonwoo?” You whisper between the two of you. 

He blinks then furrows his brows. “What kind of question is that?”

You frown, you’re supposed to give me an answer. “I just thought that maybe it’s better to call it off already before we regret anything in the future.”

“Y/N,” he calls for your name for the first time. “My past relationship is already in the past. I am not dwelling from what happened and what could have been. I am here now and that’s all that matters.”

“Don’t play smart with me,” you scoff and pull yourself away from him.

But Wonwoo just laughs and tightens his hold. He now holds both of your hands and strangely enough, having his hands entwined with yours is nice.

“Why? Does the princess don’t want to marry me?” 

“I don’t actually have much of a choice, do I?” 

Now it’s Wonwoo’s turn to scoff. “Who’s playing smart now?”

You burst into a fit of giggles and Wonwoo does the same. 

It’s kind of scary to feel this way. Feeling so reassured and secured with your relationship with Wonwoo like it was the two of you from the get go. It seems so easy. You are at ease and it terrifies you. 

It’s time for work, you slap yourself back to reality. You can’t continue thinking about Wonwoo especially now when you have matters to take care of and clients to satisfy. You sigh and pick up your coffee mug to sip some only to see that it’s already empty.

You quickly reach for your telephone to request for a refill.

“Coffee? Again?” Jeongyeon reprimands before you could even speak. “Your Highness, this is your third cup and it’s only nine o’clock in the morning.”

You ignore her exasperated tone. “I know.”

“How about some bread instead? You’ve had enough caffeine to last the week.”

“Please just bring me one more,” you plead while resting your palm on your forehead, feeling a headache coming up that could actually last the week. “I promise that would be my last cup.”

You can hear Jeongyeon sigh in defeat before muttering a soft okay.

You should have chosen the bread instead of the third cup of coffee because not less than 15 minutes after drinking it, your stomach feels like it’s burning inside by how painful it is. You thought a glass of water can help minimize or dwindle down the pain but it’s of no help.

What’s worse is you suddenly feel hot in spite of the air condition inside your office being on full blast. Your hand brushes against your face and it is wet. Why am I sweating? You quietly groan as another pang of pain hits you. You think you might vomit. 

Maybe you should go to the restroom or whatever. For now, you just want to move in the hopes that this uncomfortable and sickening feeling would go away. You push yourself up from your chair with a lot of effort because your body doesn’t seem to have any more intention to cooperate with your mind.

You decided you’d rest at your apartment for a while and just go back in the afternoon on the assumption that you’d be fine by then.

Slowly and painfully, you walk to the huge doors of your office and with every step you take, you’re catching your breath. You reach the door and clutch the knob tightly, desperate to grab some painkillers and just sleep this off. 

However, before you could twist the knob and take further steps, you were falling to the ground. Your body doesn’t want to act on your decisions anymore and the pain on your stomach is just way too unbearable, you can’t even stand straight. 

And just on time, Jeongyeon opens your door and enters, chirpy as usual, “Your Highness, you have a visi--- Your Highness!”

You were not sure if your eyes could still register what you saw before you blacked out. But, you were positive that you saw the one and only Prince Wonwoo, one moment smiling and the next rushing towards your limp body on the cold tiled floor.

[mcfiddlestan]

WinterFrost Single Dads AU

Hey, ya'll. Told ya I was working on this thing. I've got about six chapters done, but I'm not ready to post it to AO3 just yet. One big reason for that is I don't have a title yet. So I thought I'd post a couple of chapters, let ya'll get a feel for it, then take any suggestions you might have.

Just a small note: I tend to name fics after song titles that inspired the story or somehow fit with the plot.

Anyhoo...here's the first chapter. I *might* post the second tomorrow. We'll see how the response to this goes.

xoxo, La

Pairing: Loki x Bucky Barnes (there are others past and future, but I'm not giving them away just yet)

Rating: M

Word count: 1,775

Summary: Loki is living a great life as a Manhattan lawyer and constantly partying with Tony Stark, his best friend. Loki's life before he came to New York more than a decade ago is a mystery for those close to him. But it's all about to come to light when he gets a call from someone in his past.

Bucky is just trying to catch a break. A few hookups with a fellow soldier led to a quickie marriage and baby -- and two years later, a quick divorce. His daughter is now eight years old and the light of his life. But he can't seem to get his shit together. Struggling to find a job and keep a hold on his sobriety, it's a one-night stand that gives him the kick in the ass he needs to be the man his daughter believes he is.

Warnings: Mature language and situations, some drug use, and talk about addiction.

Chapter 1

The sound of his front door opening and closing pulled Loki from a deep sleep. So deep, it took him a moment to remember where he was and how he knew that was his front door. His eyes opened slowly, once, twice, and then again, to nothing but the darkness of what he was sure was his bedroom. Then he felt the pounding, incessant, pulsing around his entire head. Damn migraines. Loki let out a low groan, thought fuck it, and buried his face deeper into his pillow. Moments later, the door to his bedroom pushed open.

“Rise and shine,” a deep voice sang.

Loki grumbled at the familiar voice, and slowly, he turned his body, rolling onto his back. “Why are you always so chipper in the morning? Oh, for Norn’s sake!” He threw a pillow over his face as the curtains pulled open and let the blinding daylight flood the room. “Close them! I’ve got a damned migraine!”

“Ooh. So sorry, Mr. Friggasson. There’s a cup of tea on the nightstand. Would you like me to get you some water and a couple of ibuprofen?”

Another groan sounded through the room as Loki forced himself to sit up. “Yes, please,” he answered as he rubbed at his face before reaching for the two pillows to prop them up behind him. In his sleepy haze, he remembered to pull the bedsheet over his lap to keep his modesty. Loki reached out for the teacup first, cupping it in his large hand as he took a gentle sip. “Mmm, perfect. Thank you, Fandral. And, for the thousandth time, please stop calling me Mr. Friggasson.” He sipped again, ignoring Fandral’s giggle as he rummaged through Loki’s closet. “What time is it?”

“A quarter to eleven.”

Loki sputtered into his tea. “Quarter to eleven? Why did you let me sleep so late? I have meetings today.” Loki hurriedly set his drink down and started to rise, gathering the sheet to wrap around him. Fandral was suddenly there, nudging Loki back into the bed, “Relax, Loki. You’re fine. Your early meeting was canceled, the board meeting at the Tower was pushed to Thursday, and Mr. Stark canceled your lunch meeting.”

“Cancelled? Why?” Loki settled back in the bed, rubbing at his neck. “He didn’t say. But he left the message for me before three am, and there was a lot of noise in the background. So, take a guess.”

Loki snorted softly. “That’s your boss, Fanny. Don’t judge.”

“You’re my boss. Mr. Stark only signs the checks,” Fandral said through a smile as he laid out a pair of pants and a shirt on a chair in the corner for Loki to wear for the day. “Once the morning meeting was canceled, I thought I’d let you rest a little longer since you didn’t have to rush into the office.”

“Thanks,” Loki muttered from behind his cup.

Fandral gave him a nod and turned to head around the corner towards the master bathroom.

“Any other messages?” Loki called as he set the teacup back on the nightstand. He sat back, his face contorting in pain, willing the migraine to ease up. He made a mental note to see an optometrist already.

“Yes, a few. Natasha called. She got a lead on the security break from a couple of months ago, I guess? She said she’d have a report for you on the improvements she’s already made with F.R.I.D.A.Y.” Fandral stepped out with a small white bottle in one hand, a glass of water in the other. He handed the water to Loki before popping open the bottle and dropping two white tablets in Loki’s open palm. “Also, someone’s been trying to get a hold of you all morning. He’s called four times already. No real message, just ‘need to speak to Loki urgently.’ Someone named Thor.”

Loki went still. He swallowed down the pills and water in his mouth, watching Fandral’s retreating back. A million different questions ran through Loki’s mind, but he couldn’t decide on just one to ask, nor would Fandral be able to answer any of them, judging by what he’d just said. Fandral returned from the bathroom, and Loki hoped he didn’t look as panicked as he felt. “Someone named Thor, you say?”

Fandral, staring at his phone, made a noise of agreement. “Sounded foreign, but I couldn’t place the accent.”

“Norwegian.” Loki shook his head dismissively when Fandral looked at him with a quizzical look. “Did he say how to get a hold of him?”

“Yes. At least, I have the number for you.” Fandral lowered his phone, eyed Loki, who’d gone much paler in the last thirty seconds. “Are you all right?”

Not in the slightest. “Yes. Uh, Fandral, I’m going to take a shower.” Loki rose from the bed, his migraine still there but hardly forgotten. He held the bed sheet tight at his waist and walked around Fandral. “Listen, if he calls again, tell him I will call him back as soon as I’m free. If he doesn’t, when you hear the water stop, give me twenty minutes, then put the call through.”

Fandral frowned at Loki as he followed him with his eyes. “Sure, boss. Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

“Fandral. I’m fine. Will you order some food? Get me a sandwich, please. Something toasted, turkey.” Distracted, Loki didn’t wait for Fandral to confirm. He walked into his bathroom and started the water in the shower, then moved to the sink. He stood before the mirror for a moment, thinking, fretting, irritated. Why would Thor be calling him after all this time? What could he possibly have to say to Loki? After more than ten years of no communication, Loki felt as if they were strangers.

The steam began to fill the room, fogging up the mirror, so Loki dropped the sheet and stepped under the spray. He let the hot water wash over him, easing the ache of his muscles. He took the showerhead in hand, adjusted the setting of the water, and held it over the back of his head to let the hot water pummel the skin of his neck and his scalp, hoping to make the migraine go away. Though with the newly added stress of a phone call with someone from his long-forgotten past, Loki wasn’t sure it would go away now.

Washing his body and hair quickly, after just fifteen minutes, Loki stepped out and went through the motions of grooming then getting dressed. When he stepped out into the living room, Fandral was just taking his food from its delivery packaging.

“Did he call?”

“No. Feel any better?”

Not at all. “Much. Fandral, could you give me some privacy?”

He froze with a wrapped sandwich half out of the bag. Only his eyes moved in Loki’s direction, “Um, sure? Do you want me to come back in, what, an hour?”

Loki shook his head. “No. In fact, why don’t you take the rest of the day off?” Fandral dropped the sandwich on the table and faced Loki fully, crossing his arms. “Don’t look at me like that. Nothing is wrong. I just don’t know how this conversation is going to go, and I’d rather not have an audience if you don’t mind.” He spotted a bag of chips and snatched it up, ripping it open to pop one into his mouth.

Fandral, still frowning, reached into the bag once again to split the napkins between the two of them. He repacked his meal, then lifted the bag from the table. “All right. Your phone is on the counter. I input the phone number since he called the office, not your cell phone. And – I’ll be available, just in case.”

“Thank you. Fandral.” Loki gave his back a quick pat as he paused beside him. “I mean it. Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Well, I think we both know that’s a mutual feeling.” He reached for Loki’s arm, giving his wrist a quick squeeze. “Call me later? So I know you’re all right?”

Loki nodded and didn’t move until he heard the door close behind Fandral. It was true; he didn’t know how he would function without Fandral. They were classmates in law school, and both started at equally prestigious firms upon graduation. They were good friends but fiercely competitive, too. Loki credited that manic drive to one-up each other for getting him to the top five percent of their graduating class. But after a few years, while Loki had been on the up-and-up, Fandral was drowning, barely keeping his head above water as a tax lawyer. Loki watched one of the first friends he’d made in New York crumble under pressure and struggled to help him find a way to deal. Eventually, Fandral walked away from the six-figure salary, the company car, and all the perks that came with it. Loki was impressed that Fandral

dared to do it. After a few months of getting help and finding a better mental space, Fandral moved off of Loki’s couch into a modest apartment that was a fraction the size of the loft he was in before and looked for a less-hectic job. Loki had snagged a cushy position as Stark Industries’ in-house counsel, thanks to his friendship with its C.E.O., and was still getting settled. Managing New York’s richest son’s money, company, and public image was turning out to be a full-time job. And Loki needed help. He’d already recruited Natasha Romanov, a former N.Y.P.D. Officer, he brought her on for her computer and investigative skills. So he offered Fandral a position as his assistant. Fandral took it and promised to be the best right-hand man. Loki expected he’d be bored within a month just answering phone calls and setting up meetings. But Fandral’s duties, mostly taken on of his own volition, had grown exponentially in the past five years. He acted as assistant, maid, valet, and social buffer for the notoriously introverted Loki.

Loki would be a mess without him.

Because he was starving, Loki wolfed down half his sandwich and chips, grateful that the shower, the food, and the medication had helped relieve the worst of his migraine. Taking a deep breath, Loki picked up his phone from where Fandral left it for him. His thumb hovered over the screen, over the unknown phone number. And with his heart in his throat, Loki tapped it. He listened. He waited. And, finally, after three rings, the line picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Thor.”

[kittensjonsa]

Trophy Wife

Another day, another detective-lawyer tag team duo Jonsa AU nobody asked for lol. Has this been done before? No idea but for some reason, this was dying to get out of my system, so I just had to -so please bear with it. Or not, up to you (trigger warning below). 

Summary: Sansa needs help in bringing down one of the worst criminals of the century - and save her abducted best friend. Jon, a shy elusive private investigator offers a helping hand. Sparks fly when things heat up, while going undercover. *winks*

Rated NC-17 to E for language and content. Major trigger warning for abuse (various). I am neither a lawyer nor a PI so forgive me if I get some of the terms wrong. Part One of (maybe, let’s see) Three. Enjoy! x

---

Part One

Eviction. Jon hated that word. He hated hearing it, hated being threatened by it and now there it was, written all over his door on a notice in red capital letters. Fuck you too, he thought as he tore off the paper. I'll say when I'll go. This was not a time for moving houses or looking for a new place. He was busy, there were things to do and places to hide in. If only they could spare him a couple more months, that was all he needed, if the rent he owed was correct in his head. Jon had lived in his car once and he couldn't live through that again.

Besides, he was on a roll. At least, he'd like to think so. Clients were coming in and he had more jobs that he did a year ago. Of course, that was largely due to his success in uncovering the biggest scandal in all of Westeros - involving the Lannisters and a certain pair of twins who had relations with one another, in a biblical sense, or so it seemed. It did not help one bit when the Lannisters were also the family everyone loved to hate, and Jon probably did the country a huge favour when the news went public. Within days, it was reported that any Lannisters who planned to run for government office were rejected, shunned and ridiculed. So much so, that they went into hiding. Good riddance.

You reap what you sow. They had it coming, Jon told himself. And truthfully, he relished every second of it, bringing down the notorious family - such a satisfying accomplishment it was. It was just ironic that a member of the Lannister family had hired him, turning the evidence into a weapon and declaring war against the Lannister legacy. So much for a happy family.

The pay check from the Lannister job was substantial enough and managed to pay his debts that he owed but when it came to maintaining the business, the cash quickly ran out. Furthermore, it did not help that his clients would only pay once they had received proof that their suspicions were right all along, which took some time. Jon hadn't even counted his gas money and meals during stake outs or the electricity bills that soared after spending late nights playing and watching video tapes over and over. Surveillance was a costly, slow and painstaking process but essential, in getting the dough and the job done.

Maybe I'm too nice. Jon wished he had stipulated a clause in his contract that required a deposit before he accepted any assignments. But frail crying wives desperate to get out of loveless marriages were not people he wanted to take advantage of and a lawyer, he was not. If he had a therapist licence, perhaps it would be more useful in bringing in the bucks. Still, through word of mouth, steadily the business grew - apparently, spying on people was a lucrative outfit. Jon couldn't recall earning this much when he worked at his former security firm at Castle Black.

“So, you'll do it?” the gentleman asked, sliding an envelope towards him. Jon opened it and took a peek, in it had a flash drive and a rolled up wad of cash, which looked like a few thousands.

“I would. But you must know that I work best alone,” Jon agreed.

“Oh no. Not for this one. It will be difficult to crack this one without a partner.”

Smart ass. Trying to tell me how to do my job. The cash looks good though. It'll help tide over a couple of things.

“All right. So I need a partner. You have to give me some time to look for one. And that's going to cost you, you know that right?”

The gentleman smiled and drummed his fingers on the dining table. “Oh, I know that. But what if I already have a partner for you? She's ready to work on this with you.”

“She? Whoa.. back up for a second. I didn't say I needed female partner. Besides, this isn't a job for a lady, if what you told me is true.”

“Trust me, she's on board with this a hundred percent. I trust her to do the job, above and beyond.”

Jon was still reluctant. The quick and easy cash advance had come with its own conditions. “Okay. Does she have a name? I'd have to do background checks, you know and all of that, for safety reasons.”

“Of course. All you need on her is on the flash drive in there,” he pointed to the envelope Jon was resting his hands on. “Besides, she's my niece.”

“Your what? And you're okay with her getting involved?”

He nodded and turned his attention back to his newly refilled coffee. Jon couldn't believe his ears. What kind of uncle are you?

“She feels as strongly about this than just about anyone. Maybe more. And she volunteered. I suppose she has her reasons. How can I say no that?”

“Yeah... but we're investigating an alleged sex ring. Are we not? Seems a little inappropriate, don't you think?” Jon whispered as he leaned in, wondering what kind of shenanigans people are up to these days.

Jon watched as he put down his mug and adjusted the glasses that sat low on the bridge of his nose. He didn't strike Jon as a sleazeball, the kind who would sell and pimp anything or anyone to make a buck. He was mysterious yet friendly, sophisticated yet ruggedly worn, as if he had seen enough ills in his lifetime.

“A human trafficking ring, to be exact. We've been trying to go after them for years but they get away with it every time. You know why? Because all evidence pointing to them were ruled inadmissible. Come on, you've read about it in the papers, on the news. Day in, day out we built the case and every time we find something worthwhile, another detail or another statement comes up and render the leads useless.”

It was true. It was all over the media - the Boltons and the Freys accused of allegedly running an illegal sex trade. But to Jon, it seemed that there was all there was to it. People wanting to have a bit of fun at a party isn’t that new or illegal, he thought, even though he depised the Boltons and the Freys as much as the next decent guy on the street. Unless of course, if the ring was made up of abducted girls or worse, minors. That would truly be despicable and one that warranted medieval torture and capital punishment. This is going to be quite the undertaking, Jon suddenly realised.

“Have you considered going to the police... or your client going to the police for help? Instead of a private investigator.”

Jon waited for an answer as both their eyes met, one was smiling and the other was not.

“You don't think the police isn't involved in this? Not investigating, no that. We have reason to believe that members of the police are themselves the perpetrators. I'm talking high ranking officials, son. So, you see why we have to.. approach this in another way.”

“Okay, I see your point. All right then. I'll need to meet this niece of yours, so I can clue her in on how to go about this. Though, I'm not sure how it'll work.”

“I am sure you'll try your best. Believe me, Jon, if we win this case, it'll be the biggest one yet. It's something greater than all of us. It's for the greater good. I can't quite discuss names or details than what I've just told you or who my client is but the money? There's more where that came from. Here's my card, should you need anything.”

Jon looked at the name card. “ Well, you sold me there. We'll be in touch, Mr Stark.”

“Likewise, Jon. Oh, and call me Ben. I hope to hear from you soon.”

Jon watched as Benjen Stark left the diner and into his Mercedes, as he contemplated his next step. This was a big job, and Benjen was right, he probably could not handle it alone. Still, Jon was curious and intrigued, wondering whom his partner was.

Jon jolted up from his bed when the doorbell rang. It was only eight in the morning and Jon did not recall ordering anything that required an early morning delivery. Ugh, what..

Jon stumbled out of bed, clad only in yesterday's jeans and stepping on notes scattered everywhere in his room. His living room wasn't spared either, with boxes of carefully labelled tapes stacked haphazardly in every corner.

“Jon Snow? Hi, I'm Sansa Stark. My uncle.. he spoke with you yesterday..”

Jon rubbed his eyes and squinted at the blurry figure in front of him. His eyes were stubbornly still asleep. Slowly but gradually, in the few minutes that it took for Jon to recover from his sleep-ridden stupor, his vision came round and found himself gazing at a tall redhead standing before him. Whoa.. okay.

“Bad time? I can come back later,” she said, sheepish at the sight of a sleepy half naked man yawning at her.

“No.. wait. You're the niece? Of Benjen?” Jon said, as memories from last night's meeting came to mind.

Sansa nodded. “The very one. He says I'll be working with you. On the case?”

It was way too early to be discussing details about work or anything, really and Jon needed a cup of good strong black coffee to stay awake. Shouldn't have read the file at three in the morning.

“Right. Come on in.” Jon opened the door wider as he led her into the living room. Sansa accepted the invite, albeit with caution as she stepped in, carefully steering clear of the boxes and files around her. 

“Pardon the mess, I don't get visitors much. Coffee?” Jon apologized as he helped himself to a cup of chilled coffee from the fridge. It was a norm now, keeping coffee from the night before, to save money. It didn't taste as good as freshly brewed coffee but it woke him nonetheless.

“Uhh.. no thanks. Water's fine.”

Jon watched the lady seated on his couch waiting politely for him to finish. He had gone through the file on her as Benjen had given. Graduated with honours at the top of her class at University of Westeros' Law School. Interned for two years at one of the top firms right after graduation and now a junior partner at Stark, Tully & Reed. Perhaps one of the most fascinating fact was that Sansa Stark had been on the prosecuting team in the 'Lannister vs the people' case. It was no wonder the Starks had come looking for him. He guessed he probably didn't need any further introductions, for now.

“So, how about we start about why you're here, Miss Stark,” Jon said, handing her a glass of tap water.

Sansa thanked him as she took the glass from his hand and set it down on an empty spot on the cluttered coffee table.

“Sansa, please. First of all, I apologize for not letting you know that I was coming. I did call and text yesterday but I suppose you were asleep. It was late anyway. Sorry about that.”

Jon then remembered his phone, which was now likely dead since he forgot to charge it. Oops.

“Oh, did you? Lately been trying to kind of de-plug every once in a while. But yeah, I might have fallen asleep too. Had some notes to go through and kind of forgot about my phone. My bad.”

Sansa smiled and took a small sip of water. “Oh.. that's all right. Anyway, let's start over. I'm Sansa Stark and I'll be working with you. I believe my uncle has filled you in? Pleased to meet you, Mr Jon Snow.” Sansa offered her hand.

Jon returned the handshake with a wary smile. “Pleasure's all mine. And please, Sansa, call me Jon. So, I'm guessing you know what we're working with?”

“I do. I was the one who put it together so I should know more about it than anyone.”

Benjen said he couldn't share details about who the client was and now Jon was curious. Sansa Stark seemed a force to be reckoned with - coming up and putting together a case of this magnitude could either be the ruin or the highlight of her law career.

“I see. Well, I must say I'm impressed. But you do know this can be dangerous work, right? If what your uncle says is true.”

“If it means saving hundreds from a cruel fate then I'm all for it. Besides-”

A loud rumbling growl startled Sansa to a pause mid sentence.

Jon's cheeks reddened, patting his stomach. “Umm..Do you think we could talk about this over breakfast? I.. I had a light dinner yesterday.”

Sansa bit down her lip as tried to stifle her giggle. This man is hilarious. Cute though. She didn't mind at all working alongside him. “Sure. I'm buying.”

Awesome. I don't mind it at all. Nothing more Jon loved than rich people willing to spend. But a cheap greasy diner breakfast with all the works was just what he needed right now. He can think of other fancy things later.

“I hope you don't mind. Not many fancy places around here,” Jon pointed to a booth in the diner, right in a corner where he usually sat every day and night. Grenn, the owner and chef who was also a friend and neighbour, made sure it was always empty and reserved just for him.

Sansa beamed at him, her striking blue eyes sparkling in the morning sun. “Are you kidding me? Diners are the best. The only places that helped through mid terms and finals. And man, they were gruelling. I would retreat to a diner and have a chocolate banana milkshake whenever things got a little tough. This.. is nice.”

Jon felt at ease immediately. Something told him he was going to have a great time working the case.

“So, tell me. Why 'Trophy Wife'? I mean, can't you call it what it is?” Jon asked, in between mouthfuls of bacon and French toast.

“Well, it's a code word you know. Human trafficking, sex ring.. these are terms people are not comfortable hearing, especially in public or in an office. Besides, not many people know about it and it is absolutely crucial that it stays that way. Too much information shared with anyone else won’t be good for us. Plus, I think it's also because.. it seems the victims are forced and paraded as wives of these predators. You know, so it seems legit. But that’s just a guess. I know deep down, there's nothing legitimate about it.” 

“Good point.” Jon concurred, shoving the last piece of French toast into his mouth. 

“You want to hear a story? We actually managed to get hold of a marriage certificate, you know, one that shared a victim's name on it. But get this - it was fake. There was no such church nor was there any minister with that name. It was a bust.”

“Yikes. Okay, so that should be proof enough right? I mean, right there is already fraud.”

Sansa sighed. “Yeah, up until someone accused us of fabricating the marriage certificate. I mean, we couldn't use it at all since it was fake. It definitely derailed the investigation for a while and it was the only promising lead we had. I believe there are still many. Out there. We just have to make sure the case won't go cold.”

Jon had to ask, seeing how fired up Sansa seemed about the whole thing. “Can I ask you something? If you don't mind my asking. Why this? I mean there are so many easier cases out there waiting.. but why this one?”

Sansa looked at him and looked away, turning towards the window.

“Jeyne Poole was twenty five years old when she went missing last year. Next month would be her seventh month missing. Her parents are worried sick and her mom had a stroke because of it. Jeyne was last seen at her place of work and that was it. She just disappeared and dropped from the face of the earth. That's not Jeyne to pull something like that.”

“What do you mean?”

Jon's furrowed brows prompted her further. “She's my age and my best friend, Jon. And no matter what, I have to search for her. Whether she's dead or alive.”

Jon was no stranger to hearing heavily personal details and he thought he could handle all the doom and gloom thrown his way, but this had him a little shaken up.

If he wasn't convinced before, he was sure as hell now. It was a dark treacherous path ahead but Sansa was a woman on a mission. And Jon knew well already, not to get in her way.

“Right. So, what do you need from me?”

It was a quiet walk back to his apartment as the brevity of the situation started to sink in. He may be a mediocre private investigator but a mediocre human being, he was not planning to be. Armed with new information and Sansa's fervour rubbing off on him, Jon was determined to find and annihilate the fuckers, if they really were the Boltons and the Freys, even better. Two less scumbags in the world would be a huge win; they won’t be missed. Sansa and him would be saving, hopefully, not just Jeyne Poole but dozens of vulnerable young women from the very clutches of evil itself.

“I can share the workload with you, if you want. You know, go over the details, help out on surveillance, research all that stuff,” Sansa suggested, as she flipped through the pages of the folder Jon had compiled. It had only a couple of handwritten notes with addresses and names along with documents he printed from the flash drive he was given. He was keen to find some kind of link and honestly, two brains were definitely better than one for it.

“Don't you have a job to attend to? I mean, I don't mind the help but I don't think it's fair that I take you away from what pays your bills. If... you do that sort of thing.”

Sansa shrugged. “One of the perks of living with your parents, I guess, is not paying bills and still having a roof over your head. I've got some money saved and since this is my case, I managed to get an expense budget for it. So, that's covered I guess.”

Jon scoffed. Rich people. “And this expense budget... is from your client?”

“I am not at liberty to say but up to you what to believe. All I know is, what we need for this case, is settled and paid for. Nothing is spared.”

Must be nice being rich.

“Well, you don't say, this client could give us a temporary office to work in, no? I mean, I don't mind doing it out if my house but-”

“You're being evicted in less than two weeks. I know. I had some checks done on you, Jon. Safety reasons, I'm sure you know. But granted, it's not ideal, But I think we may have just the place.. I mean, for the time being. Though.. it's going to take some work and I'll brief you on that soon.” Sansa offered as Jon unlocked his apartment door.

“Okay..that’s a first for me. I mean, if it’s no imposition, I-”

“Yeah, it’s totally fine. But hey love to chat but I kinda have to go. Can I take this with me? I'll make you a copy,” Sansa grabbed the folder and walked up to the door, casually glazing over the bit where he was about to be homeless soon. Damn lawyers.

“I was going to pay, you know. It's just that I had to settle other bills first,” Jon explained, though it was futile knowing who he was talking to.

“That's all right. Doesn't make you a bad person. You had priorities, it's understandable. Although if you’re planning on living in your car, I don't think all the boxes in your living room would fit.”

It didn't faze Jon how she had known about him living in his car once upon a hard time and he couldn't agree more. He couldn't exactly afford a storage unit either since the material he had was sensitive and would spell trouble if anything got lost or stolen.

“So, I'll show you the new place? You can come pick up your stuff later this weekend if you want.”

Jon found himself with renewed enthusiasm, relieved that he said yes to the assignment. Whatever tomorrow brings, he'll face it head on, with a swanky new roof over his head. 

Bring it on.

[ohemgeeitscoley]

Rey doesn't think when she calls Ben to go into her emails to send off her draft email with her final to her professor. 

It isn't until she's off the phone that she remembers all the other draft emails are to him and vary from confessing her love to him and describing in detail what exactly she wants to do to his body. 

No, Rey didn't think this through at all.

These letters to you (1/1)

Fandom: Star Wars

Pairing: Rey/Ben Solo (Reylo)

Note: This came from this prompt from the ReylosPrompt Twitter account.

Curious Cat Prompt: "Ben finds a draft on Rey’s email addressed to him confessing her love and lust for him."

@andyouweremine​ and @storiesofimagination​ are some of the best betas a girl could ever ask for. They make sure that my tenses stay correct and reassure me the entire time that I’m writing. They are the best cheerleaders and I wouldn’t know what to do without them. <3 

Read below or on AO3.

Please pick up. Please pick up. If there is any sort of fairness in the galaxy, please pick up your fucking phone--

"Hello?" Ben's voice is low, deeper than usual. It's his mostly asleep voice. Rey hates that she has thought enough about the variances of Ben's voice to know the different tones almost as much as she hates the fact that a sleepy Ben Solo is almost always her favorite version of Ben.

Ben had been one of the first people Rey had met when she transferred in as a sophomore. He had been in his first year at the law school. They both fought for the right to study under a specific tree toward the edge of the campus. It was quiet, far enough away from the hot spots to really attract much attention or noise. The leaves were big and provided plenty of shade from the sun. The ground was soft and mostly free of any large rocks or bouts of even landscaping. 

It was Rey's favorite spot. 

They fought over the tree for two months, both of them refusing to leave and each attempting to annoy the other into giving the spot up. It didn't take long for them to realize that when they were just sitting under the tree, quietly, together studying, it wasn't so bad.

It was actually nice, not being alone. 

Rey moved into Ben's apartment the following fall and they'd been best friends ever since. 

Rey's fairly certain she's been in love with him for roughly the same amount of time. 

Not that she has the time to be getting lost down that particular rabbit hole.

"Thank God, you answered," Rey responds, twisting the cord of the phone around one of her fingers. Everything about the diner she works at is a little bit kitschy and old, but having to make a call on a phone actually attached to a wall with cords is a whole different experience. "I'm so sorry I woke you up. I know you were up late studying."

"Rey?" Ben asks while yawning. Rey can hear him shuffle around in his bed. "It's not even 6 AM, is everything okay?"

"You answered," Rey smiles, hoping Ben knows that she is practically beaming at him through the phone. "Everything is going to be fine. My final paper is due at 6. On the dot. I was too nervous to send it last night when I finished it. I was going to send it in this morning, after I had a chance to at least look over it for grammar and spelling, but I'm me and I--"

"Slept through your first four alarms and barely made it out the door for work?" Ben interrupts.

"Yes." Rey sighs, rolling her eyes. "Anyways. You know I can't use my cell at work, I'm probably going to get shit for this call, and you're the only number I have memorized. So I really, really need you to get on my computer, go to my email and send in my paper. I have a draft saved and everything. All you have to do is get in my drafts folder and hit send."

"Sure," Ben agrees. "Password for your laptop?"

"Capital d-y-at sign-d-hashtag-number 3-exclamation point."

"I'm on it." Rey can hear Ben's door open, the same squeak sounding over the phone that she complains about every night when he's anxious from studying and walks back and forth from his room to the kitchen every twenty minutes. "Consider it done."

"You're the best roommate, slash friend, slash just all around hero of my life," Rey blushes, stopping just short of adding 'probably the love of my life' at the end of her sentence. Thinking about her feelings for Ben is definitely a rabbit hole she is better off to avoid. "I don't know what I would do without you."

"It's the least I can do if I'm really the only phone number you have memorized."

"It's 2020, Ben," Rey teases. "The fact that I have your number memorized is really impressive."

"Why mine?"

Rey can hear water running in the background, a cabinet opening and a drawer shutting. Rey hates that she can clearly see Ben in their kitchen, making coffee, probably with a slightly grumpy look on his face because Rey knows that she put the grinder and the filters back in the wrong spot. She hates it the same way she hates knowing that Ben won't say anything about the misplaced items to her, and that if she were home he would make her cup of coffee first. 

The way Ben always takes care of her first drives Rey crazy most days. 

"I figure the only time I'm ever going to need to call someone without having access to my phone would be in a real emergency. And you're the person I would want to call." Rey bites her lip, shaking her head as if she could shake away how vulnerable she sounds to her own ears. "Or, if I've been arrested. And if that's the case, you're the only lawyer I know."

Ben snorts. "I have to actually finish next semester and pass the bar to be a real lawyer."

"You're going to pass," Rey gently reminds him. It's the same conversation they've been having since the beginning of the year. "And then you're going to kick legal ass all over New York."

Ben's laugh is warm. "You should go back to work, don't worry about your paper. I won't let you down."

"I know you won't. Text me what you want for dinner. I'll pick it up on my way home from my last final." 

Rey hangs the phone back up on the wall and walks back out into the diner. She smiles, grabbing a rag to wipe down the front counter. Her nerves finally calm knowing that Ben wouldn't let her down and she no longer had to worry about failing one of her last classes. 

Ben would just go into her draft emails and send the email on to her professor.

Into her draft emails.

Her draft emails.

Fuck. 

***

Ben is not surprised when he opens Rey's email and sees that she has 37 draft emails. It's honestly exactly what he expects. 

He blows across the top of his mug, watching as the steam from the cup scatters. The coffee's still too hot to drink, but it's 5:57 in the morning and Ben's only had 2 hours of sleep. 

If he survives law school and passes the bar, Ben is going to need a three week long nap.  

Taking a drink from the mug, Ben grimaces as the too hot liquid burns his tongue and throat, and yet at the same time warms his soul. Ben opens the draft emails, seeing the one at the top to Rey's professor. It's easy enough to look at, make sure that there's an attachment attached and that Rey's message isn't full of 2 AM Rey snark. 

It's sent by 5:59.

Ben's glad that he woke up to his phone going off and that he answered. Usually, answering unknown numbers isn't something Ben does, but he's always a little more cautious when Rey is gone and it's a local number. Just in case. 

Answering a spam call and wasting 5 seconds but knowing Rey is fine is worth it. 

Everything about the call fell into the 'reasons to tell Rey about his feelings' column in the pro/con list he kept in his mind. Rey had his number memorized in case of emergencies. 

Somehow Rey Johnson had decided that he was worthy and could be trusted to be someone she could rely on.  

And for Rey, with all of the abandonment issues Ben knows about, to trust him to be there for her… it means more than Ben can say. 

Falling completely in love with his best friend was not on his list of things to complete before finishing law school. 

Though he thinks it might be the most worthwhile thing he's done in the three years. If he wasn't absolutely terrified of Rey not feeling the same way and ruining their friendship, Ben knows that loving her, being loved by her… that would be the honor of a lifetime. 

Tilting his head back, Ben reaches for his mug and takes another drink. These are the kinds of thoughts that Ben knows he cannot dwell on so early and on such little sleep. He's going to fuck up one day and send her a text message confessing that he does actually reorganize their kitchen cabinets sometimes just because he thinks that the way she scrunches her nose when she's confused and angry is the cutest thing in the world.  

Maybe he'll just text her that he loves her and not in a friend way. But in a ‘very real, very romantic, wants to take her on dates, and make her toes curl in pleasure’ kind of way.

Which is why Ben needs to go back to bed and try to sleep before studying again. His last final is tomorrow and if he isn't smart enough to list ten reasons why texting Rey about how pretty he thinks her freckles are in the sunlight, well, he has no idea how he's going to pass his trademarks and false advertising final. 

Ben is just starting to close the laptop when he sees his email on one of the draft emails. He knows that he shouldn't snoop in Rey's draft emails, but it's addressed to him and it's probably just a dumb meme that she forgot to hit send on. 

Because Rey sends Ben a lot of dumb memes. It's one of the things he loves about her. 

Ben pushes the screen up and is stunned to find that there are a bunch of emails to him.

Before he can think his way out of doing it, Ben opens the first email.

Dear Ben:

I came home early from work and you were shirtless and exercising in the living room

First: rude.

Second: I've decided it's unfair for you to ever wear shirts and you should be shirtless all the time

Third: actually, no one else needs to know about this gross injustice and you should only not wear shirts around me

Fourth: have you always been so... big?

Fifth: I need to go to bed and think more about this.

Yours,

Rey

Ben takes a deep breath. That was not a dumb meme.

That was the furthest thing from a dumb meme.

Ben slowly releases his breath, closing out of the draft email. He should stop. He knows he should shut down Rey’s computer and that he absolutely should not open another draft email to him. 

But he needs to know what else they say. For the first time in three years, there's a spark of hope inside Ben that maybe Rey feels something for him. So he looks down the list of drafts and opens one from 6 months ago on his birthday.

Ben,

It's your birthday. I know you aren't comfortable with attention being solely focused on you, but I'm so glad that you seemed to be enjoying yourself tonight. 

You deserve it. You're always so hard on yourself. I wish you could see you the way I see you. How kind and caring and thoughtful you can be. It never fails to amaze me, just how wonderful you really are.

You looked gorgeous. I had to stop myself from telling you just what seeing you in that suit did to me. I almost told you how badly I want you. 

I drank too much. I hate that you thought you had to leave the club to make sure that I made it back home okay, but I also… God Ben, you are always taking care of me.

No one else has done that for me.

You got me in bed, made sure I could change out of my outfit (which did you like my outfit? I thought you looked like you appreciated it when I walked out of my room, but you didn't say anything. I mean of course you didn't say anything. But I hope you did. I wore it for you.) you even brought water and aspirin for me to take tomorrow morning when I wake up. 

You kissed my forehead when you tucked me in.

I just want to kiss you. 

Well, I want to do more than just kiss you. But kissing seems like a good place to start. 

Which is how I ended up here. Reading all of these unsent emails to you. I almost hit send on the first one I wrote. My feelings for you haven't changed. 

But I'm so so scared.

I am terrified Ben.

I can't lose you. You've become the one constant in my life and I don't know what I would do without you in it. 

What if you don't feel the same way? What if I ruin everything?

I should go to bed. I just wish that I were in your arms instead of alone.

I'm so tired of being alone.

Anyways.

Happy birthday, Ben.

Yours,

Rey 

Ben reads the email four times before it really clicks in his brain that Rey likes him. Rey has apparently liked him for at least six months, but maybe even longer since she referred to sending her first draft email and that her feelings hadn't changed.

Her feelings. For him.  

His birthday had been the best birthday he could remember. Rey had planned the entire event. She had been so excited to celebrate him that it was hard not to embrace it. 

Ben's birthdays usually consisted of a phone call from his parents, maybe lunch or dinner if they were in the same city, and a few text messages from others. 

Rey woke him up with pancakes and waffles, because no one should have to choose between the two best breakfast foods on their birthday, and a detailed itinerary of all her ideas for the rest of the day. 

She spent the entire day with him doing whatever he wanted to do. Watching his favorite movies, ordering lunch from his favorite restaurant, confirming with everyone the dinner plans and post-dinner drink plans she had made. 

Ben had almost told Rey about his feelings for her that night. After reading her email, he wishes that he had.

How much time had they missed out on being together because they were both scared?

Ben shakes his head, he still isn't sure that this all is real. Maybe Rey hadn't really called and he is still asleep. Maybe this is all a dream. 

He downs the last of the coffee in his mug, running a finger across the chip on the side. 

Rey had tried throwing the mug out after she moved in, saying something about how they could just use his mugs. Ben had ignored her, placing the pastel colored mugs, chips and all, next to his glossy black ones in the cabinet. He told her the blue one was his favorite and it wasn't going anywhere. 

The smile she had given him lit up the entire room. 

He sets the mug back down on the table, scrolling down until he finds the first draft to him. I almost hit send on the first one I wrote. The email is dated the day before she moved in. 

He opens it.

Ben,

I will probably never send this email, but I also don't know that I won't. I know that I want to send it. I want to be brave and to know the truth.

The thought of doing it is just scary though. 

You know that you're my best friend right? It's hard for me to imagine a world without you in it, which for me is a lot. You haven't even been in my life for a year and you've already managed to make it so that I don't know what I'll do when you decide to leave.

That's what people do, Ben, they leave me. 

It's just a fact in my life and knowing that, honestly, has kept me safe. I keep people at a distance, which wasn't hard growing up because I just bounced around from foster home to foster home and school to school. But now I'm here and I'm not going anywhere new anytime soon.  

And then there's you. 

For some reason, I believe you're not going anywhere either. 

Which is scarier to me. I've never had anyone stay before. I don't know what to do with that. 

A part of me needs to believe that you're going to leave. So when you do eventually move on and leave me behind it'll at least be something I knew was going to eventually happen.

Anyways. I've gotten really sidetracked here. 

I've been going to therapy. Which you already know, since you're the one who kept telling me that it was something I should look into. Thanks for that by the way. You were right. 

She suggested that I write letters to the people who have left or hurt me. Not to send, but to just, get my thoughts and feelings out of my head. 

It helped. 

Which is why I'm writing this email to you, even though I'll never be brave enough to send it. I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about you, Ben. I need them out of my head.  

I love you. 

I am in love with you. 

Not in a platonic way. In a very romantic way.

Almost everything you do drives me crazy and makes my heart warm and my face glow. 

I want to kiss you and hold your hand. I want to find out if my head will fit in the crook of your neck when you hold me the way I think that it will. I want to commit the taste of your skin to my memory. I want to know the marks on your body better than I know my own. I want to know what you look like when you lose control and give into pleasure. 

It's really apparent, I think, the way I feel about you.  

Only you don't seem to notice. And I need to admit to myself that it's because you don't think of me that way. 

Which is fine. I get it. 

You're you… and I'm just, well, I'm just me. 

But I'm moving in tomorrow and I just needed to get these thoughts out. Otherwise I'm a little worried I might just blurt it out when you help me wash the dishes or eat dinner with me. Which I'm sure sounds a little strange, but after a lifetime without these moments… 

I imagine living with you is only going to make me fall more in love with you. 

Maybe I'll just have to write you more. 

Yours,

Rey

Ben doesn't bother to count how many times he rereads the email. He just keeps going back to the top as soon as he reads her name and starts again. He doesn't stop until he is sure he could repeat every word without looking at the screen. 

And then he continues to read the email again, just to make sure.

Rey loves him.

Even with the words clearly on the screen for Ben to see, it's hard for him to believe. He's been in love with Rey since before she moved in. The idea that Rey has felt the same way the entire time doesn't make sense. 

Ben is objectively smart. He isn't even shy about his intelligence. In fact any given classmate of his would likely describe him as an insufferable know it all. Rey loving him without Ben catching on for over two years is inconceivable. He would have noticed. He would have seen the signs.  Certainly he would--

He reads the email again. And again. And again. 

Every time he tries to find a way to read anything into it beyond 'Rey has admitted in three different emails, to various degrees, that she is physically attracted to you and that she is in love with you' he rereads the emails. 

He doesn't read any more beyond the three. There are plenty of drafts to him that are unread, but he grasps the threads between them to form the overall picture without needing to read the individual emails. 

He feels guilty if he thinks for too long about reading the ones he did. He has information now that he didn't have before. He reasons that it is information that he should have though. Because now that he knows and he thinks to any given memory of Rey, with just a tiny bit of certainty that Rey loves him…

Well it's the easiest thing in the world to see. 

When he really thinks about it, Rey doesn't hide the way she loves him, she shines with it. He can see it in the way she smiles at him when he pulls the blanket from the back of the couch and tucks it around her during a movie. Her face soft and warm as she instinctively burrows into the heat. 

He can see it in the way she keeps finding reasons to touch his arm when they are walking. Her hand guiding his elbow when she's giving directions. A finger tapping on his wrist when she wants him to follow her gaze. Her arm interlocked with his when she's had just a little too much to drink to still be steady in her heels. 

It's certainly the way she trusts that he won't let her fall. 

Ben closes the laptop, stretching as he stands. He places the empty coffee mug in the sink, rinsing out the small drops of coffee lingering in the bottom of the glass. The time on the stove clock mocks him. 

7:34.

Rey isn't going to be home for hours. She'll go straight from the diner to her final. And he doesn't want to worry her by texting her. Especially when he knows she won't have a lot of time, if any, to text him back.

He isn't even sure what he would say to her. 

He could study. He should study. He tries to study, but it's pointless. He can't really focus when at least half of his brain is still focused on Rey's emails. 

Ben waits. Impatiently watching the clock and attempting to will time to pass faster. He reads his note cards in between planning the possible ways his conversation with Rey may go when she finally, finally gets home. 

It's a long day.

***

Rey glances down at her phone for approximately the millionth time on her walk from the diner to campus. She's almost run into ten different people while walking because she's too focused on her phone and not where she is going. 

There are no messages from Ben. No missed calls either. 

Maybe Ben didn't see the emails. There's no way Ben would see the draft emails to him and not read them. And if he read them he absolutely would have texted her about them by now. 

Right? Right.  

Unless he thought that letting her down over a text message or a phone call is too impersonal. Maybe he is just waiting for her to get home to break her heart. 

She should have just turned in the paper late. So what if she failed and had to retake the class over the summer and figure out a way to pay for it out of pocket? At least she would still have her best friend.

A drop of water hits Rey's face, Rey looks up from her phone and glares at the darkened sky. She doesn't remember rain being mentioned in the weather forecast, but that hardly matters as it starts raining harder.  

Rey checks one more time for any messages before sliding her phone into her bag and running the rest of the way to class. She makes it inside of the building just before a large round of thunder and the rain starts to pour.  

She sits at her desk, waiting for the rest of her classmates to show up. She pulls out her phone, debating if she should send Ben a message. 

Hey! By now you probably read the emails. This is really embarrassing and obviously I should have deleted them instead of saving them. I'm an idiot. Please let me know when you need me to move out by. Sorry for making this so awkward.

Or

You find two years worth of love letters and you have NOTHING to say to me??????

Or

I assume that if you felt anything similar toward me you would have said something by now. Can we just pretend that you never saw them? I don't want this to change everything. 

The professor walks in, handing off the test packets to another student to begin passing around. 

There's not enough time for Rey to address any of this with Ben in a message. But she can't stomach the idea of not hearing from him at all before going home. 

Rey: Hey! Getting ready to start my final, you never said what you want me to grab for dinner on my way home?

***

Rey hands in her test to her professor with a tight smile and a small wave. She's pretty sure she passed, which at this point, is all she can hope for. 

She spent half of the time thinking of different scenarios that could be a possibility when she went back to the apartment. Anything near passing would be fine. 

She walks out of the classroom and pulls out her phone. She has two messages from Ben.

Ben: Actually, I was thinking I would make dinner. Something to celebrate your last final. 

Ben: Maybe something to distract me from studying. 

Rey sighs as she walks toward the exit of the building. Maybe Ben didn't read the draft emails after all. Even if he didn't have feelings for her, surely they'd be enough to at least distract him. 

Rey had poured her heart out in some of those emails. She knows there are at least a few where she went on and on about what she thought about Ben's body and the way his hair looked with him growing it out. A few where she made it clear about her thoughts about how kissable his lips looked, how she wondered what his fingers would feel like tracing her curves. 

Even if he didn't have feelings for her,  certainly he would be distracted by some of those emails.

Maybe she won't go home. Maybe she can avoid Ben long enough that she won't have to find out if he read the emails or not. She won't have to find out if she's ruined one of the best things in her life.

The sun is bright when Rey steps outside. The sidewalks are a darker grey, small puddles pooled around the cracks and uneven slabs. 

Rey zips her jacket up, shivering slightly as the wind picks up speed. 

She spends most of the walk home trying to fight against her disappointment at the thought that Ben hadn't gone through the emails to him. She had spent so much of her energy imagining Ben breaking it to her that he didn't feel the same way, but a part of her had been hoping that maybe, maybe he felt the same. 

The idea that Ben just didn't read the emails was worse.

Maybe Rey should just tell him. Get her feelings out in the open and see what comes from it. There was a chance, a small chance, but still a chance that he felt the same way. Or that he could be open to the idea. 

Rey: Sounds good! Need me to stop for anything? Dessert? Wine? Hard alcohol to help with the studying?

Ben doesn't respond until she's almost home. 

Ben: No. The only thing missing is you.

***

Ben fidgets with the pen in his hand, twirling it in between his fingers. The pasta is done, the french bread is in the oven.

The only thing that is missing is Rey.

He glances down at his phone to check and see if Rey had responded, but there's no notification. She should be home soon and Ben still doesn't know what he's going to do when he sees her. 

He knows what he wants to do. He doesn't want to waste anymore time. He wants to tell her that she's beautiful, because she is, even if she'll fight it because she always complains about how gross she feels after a shift at the diner when she has to head straight to class. She’s always beautiful though, and now he just wants to tell her that. He wants to be able to tell her that when she wakes up in the morning and she’s scrunching her face up against the harshness of the sun sneaking in, or when she is passionate about something and it lights up her entire face.

He wants to tell her that he loves her. That he has been in love with her the entire time too. He’s just not sure how. 

It doesn't seem like enough to just say that he loves her. She wrote him fucking love letters. And even though Ben only read three, he knows that there are more and that they are just as lovely and somehow all about her feelings for him. She deserves more than just him saying that he feels the same way.

She deserves to know about the day he realized he was in love with her. She deserves to know about the way the slope of her neck into her shoulder drives him crazy. She deserves to know that he pretends to fall asleep during their movie nights because then she'll fall asleep and curl herself around him on the couch. 

The oven beeps and Ben stands from the table, he closes his book, grabbing his note cards and pens and highlighters. He dumps the items into his bedroom, before walking back into the kitchen to pull the french bread out from the oven. 

Ben's sliding the bread onto a cutting board, knife in his hand, when the door opens and Rey walks in.

Ben struggles to remember how to breathe as he stares at her. She looks beautiful. But she's nervous, her fingers are playing with the sleeve of her jacket, pulling and twisting at the loose fabric. She shuts the door, taking a step into the kitchen. 

She's staring at Ben and he can see it now. She loves him and he can see it. How had he never noticed it before?

Maybe he really was an idiot.

He had spent all day fighting his own nerves, trying to come up with the perfect plan on how to tell Rey that he never thought about what she must have spent the entire day doing.

Obviously, she knew that she sent him into her draft emails and that there was a chance that he would see the emails.

Did she know that he read them? Is that why she is looking at him with wide eyes, her mouth slightly open, as if she is almost about to say something, but she doesn't. 

Of course she's worried that he doesn't feel the same way. Why else would she keep writing him draft emails while not saying anything or giving him any real signs about her feelings?

He sets the knife down next to the bread and takes a step toward her.

"Dinner smells good," she says, a little breathless. 

Ben doesn't say anything in response, he just takes another step, closing the distance between him. Rey glances up at him, her body tense as she takes a small step back. 

Ben reaches out for her, his hand settling against her lower back, gently urging her to come closer to him. 

"Ben," she breathes, stepping forward, her hand hovering over his bicep for a second before she commits and rests her hand against the sleeve of his shirt. 

"It was the first night you stayed over," Ben says, brushing a stray piece of Rey's hair behind her ear. "It was… two, maybe three months before you moved in. You came over to study. We had dinner first and then you demanded that we watch a movie before we started studying. Something about how our brains needed a break and we'd be better off waiting for a few hours to get started on our all nighter."

Ben smiles, mostly for himself, remembering how cute she had been arguing with him. 

"We didn't study," Ben continues, running a finger down her cheek. "You fell asleep twenty minutes into the movie. You looked so peaceful and beautiful and I just… all I could think was about how all I wanted in life was to share it with you. Because I was in love with you."

Rey's expression is soft and a little bewildered as he continues. She turns her head slightly, her lips quickly pressing against his thumb.

"I've been in love with you this entire time. I'm sorry I was too scared to tell you. I was nervous… I am nervous that I'm going to ruin this. I love you and I know, Rey, I know that nothing is ever going to change that. I'm going to love you forever. I can feel it in my bones. Be with me? I know it's scary--"

Rey pulls at Ben's shirt until he bends down and she cuts off his sentence by kissing him. Ben sighs against her lips, his eyes closing as he places her free hand on her hips. She deepens the kiss, her tongue running across his, her fingers burying themselves in his hair.

The way Rey feels pressed against him, the pressure of her mouth on his, it's better than he could have imagined. 

It's over too soon, Rey breaks the kiss, a large smile spreading across her face. Ben's grin is just as large and toothy. He stares at her for a second, trying to memorize the way she looks in that moment to his brain. Then he pulls her into his chest and kisses her hair.

"I love you too," Rey says after a moment. "And I agree that it is scary. But I want to be with you. It's worth it."

***

Ben's kisses are something Rey could get addicted to. He kisses with his whole body, the way he angles in his legs to brush against hers, the pressure of his thumb pressing into her hip, his fingernails lightly scratching down her spine. And his lips.

God his lips.

She had been right about his lips. They were absolutely made for kissing.

He left kisses all over her face, her cheek, her jaw, just above her eyebrow. Rey tugged at the bottom of his shirt with one hand, the other quickly moving to run along the exposed skin of his stomach. 

He is so warm and solid underneath her hand. 

Ben pulls away just long enough to pull his shirt off. Rey spends a few seconds taking in the sight of him shirtless, his eyes darker than she has ever seen them as he watches her watch him. 

"You're so gorgeous," she says because she can. Then she moves to pull her own shirt off.

The black bra, which was mostly see through mesh, that she had picked out that morning appears to have been a good choice, judging by the way Ben swallows at the sight, his eyes slowly moving down her body. 

He places one hand over her right breast, gently squeezing before taking her nipple and rolling it in between his fingers. 

Rey moans, pushing herself forward into his hand, desperate for more friction. he repeats the actions on her left breast and Rey can't control the needy sounds falling from her lips. 

Ben pulls away then, dropping his hands to her waist as he takes a step back to put distance between them. 

Rey whines, instinctively following after him.

"The food is going to be cold if we don't stop," he explains, nodding at the pasta that's on the counter. 

Rey shakes her head, lifting up on her toes to kiss him again.

"Ben," she says, her fingers digging into his shoulder as she tries to find her balance. "I don't give a fuck about the food."

***

Ben groans at Rey's words, helpless to pull away when she's saying things like that and smiling against his lips. 

He kisses her, while moving them until her back is pressed against the wall. His fingers making quick work of the button on her jeans.  

This is going too fast. He knows that he should stop, that they should eat and he should ask her to go on an actual date, or to be his girlfriend, or fuck, his wife,  whatever she wants. 

But he can't stop kissing her. And judging by the way she's trying to undo his belt, she doesn't want to stop either. It's hard to argue against the side of his brain begging him to give into the pleasure and to take her into his room when she's pushing his pants and boxers down just enough to run her fingers down his cock.

"Rey, look at me," he begs, his hand grips the corner of the wall as he fails to stop his hips from pushing forward. The way Rey's hands feel wrapped around him, moving at a slow and steady pace as she raises her eyes to his face. Her hand picks up speed, and her eyes slightly narrow in concentration, like she's trying to decipher every twitch of his face so she can make him do it again is too much. 

"Yeah, Ben?" Rey says as an answer, her eyes not leaving his. She looks like the picture of innocence as she holds his gaze, her eyes full of love, her cheeks slightly pink, and her lips turned up in a smile.

It's difficult to believe that she can keep that expression on her face while giving him the best hand job of his life. 

"We should, uh, we should talk," he manages to get out, his grip on the wall tightening. "About all of this and what it means. I don't want… we don't have to rush into anything. We have time."

Rey's hand stops moving and if Ben was capable of holding on to more than a few of his brain cells he would have been embarrassed at the way he kept moving his hips long after she stopped. 

She holds his chin in her other hand, tilting his head down so she can look directly into his eyes before she leans up. The kiss is chaste and short, it leaves Ben wanting more.

"I don't want to talk," she says, moving her hand down his length again. "I don't want to wait either Ben," he shudders at the combination of her words and the way she twists her hand around the head of his penis. "I just want you."

***

Ben doesn't say anything, he tilts his head and looks at Rey like he's trying to decide what he did to deserve her and what he wants to do next. He's all action once he's made up his mind. 

He places his hand on top of Rey's, and Rey pumps him faster, feeling emboldened by the feel of Ben's hands on hers. He moves her hand away off of him, pinning it above her head and against the wall. 

"Ben," Rey sighs, half heartedly fighting against his hold, "I wasn't done--"

Rey stops talking while she watches Ben push down his pants to the floor. He picks her up and Rey wraps her arms around his neck, and her legs around his waist. 

Heat pools in her stomach when he starts to walk them towards his room. His mouth is on her again. Ben's room is only about 30 steps away from the kitchen, but it seems to take forever before Ben finally makes it to his door. 

Ben holds her against the door, carefully shifting her in his arms so that he can move one hand from her to open the door. Rey uses that as an opportunity to suck at the skin just below his jaw. The arm wrapped around her tightens and Rey can hear Ben's sharp intake of breath once she's moved her lips away. 

So she does it again to the skin below his ear, just to see if she gets the same reaction from him. 

Ben carefully sets her down on his bed. He settles his knees on either side of her and bends down to kiss her. His mouth is hot and desperate against hers as he unclasps her bra. Rey leans back on the bed and helps him slide the straps down her arms. 

Rey lifts her hips up so Ben can remove her underwear and jeans. She runs her fingers along the edge of his hip bone.

"You're beautiful," Ben says, his voice lower than Rey has heard it before. He drags his thumb along the curve of her breast and across her nipple.  "You're so beautiful Rey--" his fingers trail down along her waist and stomach until he barely grazes her clit with the pad of his finger. 

But it's enough to send small tendrils of pleasure throughout her body. He moves lower, running a finger through the wetness at her opening. She nods at the questioning look he gives her. 

He pushes a finger inside of her, curling it up as he sets a slow, leisurely pace with his movements. Rey moans, trying to urge him on to go faster.

"Ben, please," Rey begs, though she isn't quite sure what she's asking him to do. "I need more."

Ben drops to his knees, hooking Rey's legs over his shoulder. He adds another finger, picking up speed while he places wet kisses on her thighs and hip bone. His nose brushes against her clit when he moves his head to pay attention to the other side of her body. 

Rey whines, lifting her hips to try to find something to give her friction where she needs it most. Ben grins into her thigh. 

"You're a tease," Rey huffs. "An absolute damn tease and I need--"

"I know what you need," Ben whispers, his breath hot on her center and then he finally, finally lowers his mouth to her clit. 

Rey's brain ceases to function when he sucks and pleasure washes over her body.  She lifts her hips up and she's only slightly annoyed when Ben's hand pushes her back down to the bed. 

Ben works her up easily. He isn't shy about trying different things, and the way he manages to work his tongue with his fingers and his mouth is magic. 

Rey threads her fingers in his hair, she tugs on the strands as he brings her closer and closer to the edge. 

"Ben," Rey whimpers, her back arching. She's fairly confident the grip she has on his hair is actually painful, but she can't bring herself to let go and Ben doesn't seem to mind. At least, it isn't stopping him from devouring her. 

She doesn't want to come yet. She wants to stay in this moment forever. She needs it to last longer so she can commit the way her nerves are buzzing with pleasure and her heart is swelling with love and comfort to her memory. 

Ben sucks harder. The hand on her stomach moves up and he is pinching her nipple and she comes. 

He works her through her orgasm. His mouth and tongue slowing their movements against her clit until she swats at his head. 

"Too sensitive," she mutters, her eyes still closed. He laughs against her skin, resting his chin just above her pubic bone. 

Rey leans up, pressing her elbows into the mattress. "Hi," she says, grinning down at him.

"Hi." Ben sounds a little breathless, but he matches her smile and presses a kiss against her skin. 

His hair is a mess and Rey's stomach swoops with the knowledge that she did that. She's the reason this gorgeous man was out of breath and his usually perfectly tousled hair was all out of place. 

He moves up her body, running his tongue along her exposed skin until his head is hovering just over her own. 

"I love you," he says. And if it were possible Rey knows that he would be able to see her heart beat out of her chest. 

His face is so open and honest it surprises Rey. Because she knows that he said he loved her earlier, but there's still a part of her that isn't sure that he can mean it.

But then he looks at her with such adoration in his eyes and she's not sure how she could doubt him.

"I love you too," she says, beaming up at him as he closes the distance between them.

She can taste herself on his lips, but she isn't complaining as he opens his mouth to deepen the kiss.

"Condom?" she asks, breaking the kiss before placing smaller kisses along his jaw.

He nods, moving off of her and moving to the other edge of the bed. He opens the top drawer of his nightstand and pulls out a condom. Rey just watches as he tears open the wrapper, pinches the tip of the condom and rolls it down his length. 

"Come here," he says and Rey rolls over and makes her way to Ben. She settles herself over him, resting her hands on his shoulders and sinks down on him.

Ben let's her set the pace, but he meets her thrust for thrust and it makes Rey clench against him. He feels so good inside of her, and then he uses his hands, dragging them down on her spine, across her chest, down her stomach until he reaches her clit and he presses down and Rey starts to see stars. Her movements above him stutter and she knows she isn't going to last long if he keeps that up.

"That's it," he says, "Are you going to come for me?" He puts more pressure on his finger, drawing small circles on her clit. 

Rey sighs his name, squeezing her nails into his shoulder. He's taken over, controlling the speed of her thrusts as she just let's him, too lost in the pleasure pulsing through her veins.

"Ben," she groans when his mouth wraps around her nipple, his teeth sharp against her skin.

She comes when he bites down, her vision blurring. He keeps fucking into her chasing his own orgasm.

He comes silently, his breath hot on her neck. Rey catches her breath, enjoying the way Ben can't keep his hands still. He runs his hands over her collarbone, a finger trailing across her jawline, another down her spine.

She rolls off of him once she feels like she can take a full breath without immediately trying to suck in another. He moves around, removing the condom and tossing it into a trash can near his bed.

Rey is glad to discover that her head does fit into the crook of his neck just like she imagined. She tastes the salt on his skin when she leaves an opened mouth kiss to his shoulder. She wraps her arm around his chest and curls herself around him.

"So, you read the emails then?" Rey asks with a small laugh.

Ben kisses her head. "I read three of them, yeah."

"Just three?"

Ben sighs, his fingers continuing to run across her body as if he can't get enough of her skin. "I felt bad. Reading through emails you didn't send me, it felt like I was invading your privacy."

"I'm glad you did," Rey admits, pulling him closer to her. "Otherwise we might not be here."

Ben hums, his chest vibrating underneath her hand. "You have a point."

"Which ones did you read?"

"Um," Ben hesitates. Rey can feel his heartbeat pick up pace. "A recent one about me working out? And then the one on my birthday and the first one."

"Those were good ones," Rey laughs. "You could have read the other ones."

"You could send them to me." Ben drags his fingers through her hair. "I don't want you to hide from me anymore."

"Maybe I will," Rey teases. "Now that I know you might feel the same way about me."

"I do feel the same way," Ben amends her words. "I'm crazy about you. I've been crazy about you."

"But will you be tomorrow?" Rey asks, hating how needy her voice sounds to her own ears. "And the next day?"

"Always," Ben answers. There's no hesitancy to his answer. 

"Always is a long time," Reys says, kissing his neck. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

"I never do," Ben promises. "I'm always going to love you."

"Me too," Rey says, her voice heavy with sleep. "I'm always going to love you."

"Maybe tomorrow we can read the rest of them together?" Ben asks.  

"Yeah," Rey smiles. "We can do that."

[willowknee]

Betrayal - Will imagine

Title: Betrayal People: Willx reader, Gee Word count: 1,039 Warnings: Swearing, idk?  Songs to listen to: N/A Prompt/request: “I need a place to stay,” A/N: This is my first imagine so I apologise for the poor writing, and I couldn’t think of a way to end it so sorry if it feels really abrupt. Also please feel free to send in requests!

You don’t exactly know how it came to this, one minute everything was perfectly fine, you were sat on the sofa of your apartment catching up on the latest episodes of your favourite show which you had been meaning to watch while your roommate sat on her phone. She was sat in an awkward way, in a position that you knew couldn’t be comfortable so you had turned towards her to ask if she needed more room and that’s when you noticed her phone screen. It was a straight-forward picture and with her accompanying smile, that’s all it needed for you to flip your absolute shit. 

“Why the fuck is my boyfriend sending you pictures like that?!” You shouted, making her jump in surprise.

“It’s not what it looks like!” She pleaded, trying to hide her phone, but you reached out and grabbed it, looking through the messages, confirming exactly what you saw.

“It’s exactly what the fuck it looks like!” You seethed, as you threw her phone on the cushions. “How long?! How long have you been going behind my back? You’re supposed to be my friend!”

“I am your friend!” She cried.

“Friends don’t sneak behind their backs with their boyfriends!” 

You glared at her and she finally broke, tears streaming down her face. “Since the beginning,”

Since the beginning. You had been dating for two years now. You let out a massively aggravated sigh before looking at the floor, no longer able to look at her. 

“I want you out. You can stay here tonight and pack your things, I’ll stay elsewhere. You have three days to move otherwise I’ll be getting in touch with my lawyer and I’ll take you to court.”

“But-”

“No, you don’t get a say in this. It’s my apartment, it’s in my name and I pay most of the rent, you better be gone when I return in three days,”

And that’s how you’ve ended up here, stood in front of the door of an apartment owned by the only person you felt like you could trust at this moment, you felt lied to, you felt betrayed, and nobody feels safe anymore. Nobody but one. Nobody but your best friend, Will. 

Should I knock? Would it be okay? 

It was roughly half three in the morning, you were stood there with a rucksack full of clothes and your handbag shoved with essentials. Without giving it another thought and giving yourself enough time to back out of it, you knock on the door quickly before shuffling backwards, getting ready to sprint for it. Just before you turn to leave the door opens and a dishevelled Will Lenney appears, staring at you with a look of confusion and concern. 

“I-I need a place to stay,” You manage to squeak out before bursting into tears.

Will races to your side and collects the bags in one hand while holding you in his free arm close and guiding you inside the apartment, gently kicking the door closed behind him as to not wake the neighbours who already have it out for him. He guides you to the sofa where a sleepy and disgruntled Gee was sitting before she noticed your state and ran to give you a hug before walking off with the promise of her signature hot chocolate.

“Here, have a seat,” He says gently, dropping your bags off to the side of the sofa before covering you with the throw that was previously on the back of the seat. 

“I’m so sorry to wake you both,” You apologise in between fits of crying.

“Hey, I’m just glad you came here instead of wandering the streets or even worse, want to talk about what happened?” 

You shook your head, but your mouth uttered the word ‘yes’.

You calm yourself down for a few minutes and in that time Gee had returned and sat by your side gently hugging you while WIll was perched on the coffee table in front of you, his hands resting gently on your knee and his eyes scanning your face, looking for any damage. The only damage caused was the break of trust and the crack in your heart. 

“You know my roommate, right?” You say, looking up at him and noticing them both grimace.

“Yeah, a bit of an odd one, that girl,” Will comments and Gee nods in agreement. 

“Well, she has been hooking up with my boyfriend, for two frickin years,” 

“Wait, isn’t that the same time-” 

“We got together? Yeah.” You bluntly say. 

Will shakes his head. “I’m going to kill them both.”

“It’s fine, I’ve already sent him a text saying it’s over and broke up with him and I’ve given her three days to move out, I’ll send an email to my lawyer soon to make it official,”

After a while of sitting around talking about nothing in particular with youtube playing in the background, Gee finally admits defeat and goes to sleep, after giving you one last hug she crawls off upstairs to her room, leaving you and Will alone. You sigh and pull the blankets closer to you.

“Cold?” Will asks.

You shake your head. “Comfy,” 

He nods and sprawls across the sofa, resting his head in your lap. You find yourself playing with his hair and take note of his soft breaths. 

“He doesn’t deserve you, you know, he never did,” Will says out of seemingly nowhere, his eyes still closed, almost as if he was too afraid to look at you.

“Maybe so, I suppose I was just too desperate to believe in true love I was looking for it in the wrong place,” you sigh softly, resting your head on the back of the sofa. “I don’t feel as bad as I should do, what’s wrong with me?”

“There’s nuffin wrong with you love, your relationship with him wasn’t exactly the most conventional, was it? You know you’ve done nothing wrong, it was all them,” 

You nodded even though Will couldn’t see you. After a while, you ended up drifting off into a restless sleep, your fingers still curled up in Will’s hair and his arms wrapped around your waist and a small, gentle smile playing on his lips.

[misscampacyn]

Chapter 6

Matt called his border patrol connection to detain any of the immigrants, so he could question them. They boarded a plane back to Phoenix, where they were met by Reggie.

“Are you okay?” he asks both Alexis and Kate.

“Their fine,” answers Matt.

“I didn’t ask you,” snide Reg.

“And yet I answered,” says Matt.

Alexis entered the car sitting in the middle of Matt and Alejandro. Reggie and Kate had a word or two before entering the car.

“You alright lex?” asks Reggie again, glancing at Alexis.

“I’m fine,” she answers simply.

“We can switch seat if you want,” says Kate.

“It’s fine, lets just get this over with,” says Alexis.

It had been a long day, she was annoyed, hungry, and sleepy. Matt continued to stare at her with concern written on his face.

“Since when do you let people call you Lex?” asks Matt.

Alexis only looks over at Matt but doesn’t say anything. After several minutes of silence Reggie turns on the radio, and Alexis tries to get comfortable. Not wanting to sleep on anyone’s shoulder, she leans her head back and closes her eyes falling asleep quickly.

Matt chuckles, “She’s stubborn as ever, she prefers to have pain in her neck than lean on me or on you Alejandro,” says Matt.

Alejandro only looks over at the sleeping girl. Matt notices the look in Alejandro’s eyes as he looked at his sister. With a wicked smirk Matt nudges Alexis onto Alejandro’s shoulder. Being a heavy sleeper Alexis does not wake, instead she nudges her face into Alejandro’s shoulder.

“Look at that she likes you,” jokes Matt.

“She’s going to kill you,” says Reggie who is glancing at then through the rearview mirror.

Matt only chuckled. Kate glances over at her sleeping friend and smiles.

“She hasn’t been sleeping well, she’s always rummaging in out apartment,” says Kate.

Matt and Alejandro only nod.

“You should sleep too Kate,” says Reggie.

Kate nods and leans her head to the window closing her eyes trying to catch a hour or so of sleep.

They arrive in Tucson at 2:00 am, where they are to meet up with Bob Fisks.

When Reggie parked the car behind the border patrol vehicles and turned off the car. Alejandro nudged Alexis who didn’t stir. Matt looks over at his sleeping sister and pokes her side playfully.

“Wake up sleeping beauty,” says Matt.

“Fuck you,” murmurs Alexis nudging further into Alejandro’s shoulder.

“You use that mouth to eat?” asks Matt. He continues to poke your side until you sit up straight and push his hand away from you.

“I’m awake,” says Alexis groggily. She glances over at the person she was nudging against, praying it was Reggie or Kate, instead she found out it was Alejandro. Alexis blushed and looked away from Alejandro sliding out of the car after Matt. Alejandro smiled softly at her reaction.

“Why are you holding up my transport?” asks Bod.

“Don’t worry Bob we’ll be quick,” assures Matt.

“How’s the auditor going to react with the 8,000-dollar charge of Domino’s Pizza?’ questions Bob.

“Don’t be so dramatic, alright?” asks Matt placing his hands-on Bob’s shoulders. “This is Kate Macer FBI, My sister Alexis FBI, and their friends what’s his name. It was their call,” defends Matt blaming it on the agents.

“It wasn’t our call,” says Kate. She then asks Bob for a smoke, and he advised her to finish it before she reached the detainees.

They reached the detainees and Bob asked it they need to interview all of them.

“We just need the ones that were detained around the Nogales area,” answers Alejandro.

Bob points out three groups.

“Okay the rest of them can go,” says Matt.

“Josef,” orders Bob.

“Atención, todos de nogales grupos A, D, E, grupos A, D, E, se quedan sentados todos los demás. Guardias a los autobuses,” orders Josef. (attention all from Nogales groups A, D, E; groups A, D, E stay seated. The rest guards get them into the buses)

All the people except the three groups stood up and were placed in their buses.

“What are we looking for?” Kate asks Matt.

“Just keep watching,” says Matt walking away.

 Reggie approaches both Kate and Alexis. “What are we doing here?” he asks them.

“Don’t know,” says Kate.

Reggie looks over at Alexis, but she starts walking after Matt.

“She knows what’s going on,” says Reggie.

“Yeah, but she won’t tell us,” says Kate.

“We’re going to have to ask Matt then,” says Reggie.

“You ask see where that take you,” says Kate.

Alejandro crutches down in front of one the groups. “Quienes de aquí han estado en los Estados Unidos anteriormente?” he asks. (Which ones of you have been in the U.S. before?”

Some raised their hands other did not. Alejandro nodded and looked over at Matt and Alexis. He gets up and walks through the group. Reaching some of those who raise their hands. He crutches down again. “Donde?” he asks (Where?)

“En Arizona,” answers of the men.

“Arizona,” confirms Alejandro. “Esta casado?” he asks. (are you married?)

“Si señor,” answers the same man. (yes, sir)

“Hijos?” asks Alejandro. (children?)

“Si,” answers the man. (yes)

“Donde?” asks Alejandro. (where?)

“Chihuahua,” answers the man.

Alejandro nods, “enseñeme sus manos,” he orders the man.(show me your hands)

The man places his hands in front of Alejandor who inspected them. His hands war callous from working. “Tienes tatuajes?” asks Alejandro. (have any tattoos?)

“No señor,” answers the man. (no sir)

Alejandro nods moving on to another man, and so he did to all the people that raised their hands. He was only interested in the people that had been in Arizona. Alexis joined in the questioning to so that they could get in their buses and taken to where they needed to go.

“Matt can we talk for a minute?” calls Reggie causing Alexis to look up.

Matt motions for Alexis and Alejandro to join the meeting.

“You look very serious,” points out Matt.

“We don’t want to be kept in the dark. You tell us what we are doing, or we are walking,” says Reggie.

“Me too,” confirms Kate.

Matt glances over at Alexis, but she just shrugs.

“Guillermo told us about a tunnel we are trying to see where people crossing avoid so we can locate it,” says Matt.

“Okay that’s all we wanted to know just don’t leave us in the dark anymore,” says Reggie.

“You afraid of the dark?” asks Alejandro.

Matt turns to look at Kate and Reggie, “You two can go home, we’ll find a ride home,” says Matt.

“Alexis are you coming with us?” asks Kate.

“No, I’ll stay help them here, I’ll see you at home,” says Alexis.

Reggie and Kate leave to get some rest.

“That’s why I hate fucking lawyers,” says Matt.

“Reggie is just looking for us,” defends Alexis.

“It be easier if he didn’t question anything, I didn’t bring him you and Kate did,” says Matt.

Alexis ignores his comment and goes back to the group. After a couple of hours, they allowed most of the people back to the buses.

Steve arrives to give them a ride back to Phoenix. They had rented motel rooms for the whole team, but Alexis wanted to go home.

“I’ll give you a ride home,” offers Steve.

Matt had sensed that Steve had a thing for his sister, but he knew that Alexis did not see Steve that way.

“I take her, go get some rest,” says Matt.

Steve only nods. Alexis knew Matt wanted to ask her about her time with Diaz, but she didn’t want to share.

As they walked away, Steve looked longingly at Alexis. “I hate saying goodbye but love to see her go,” voices Steve.

“You want her to kick you in the balls again?” asks Alejandro with a chuckle.

“Well no but you got to admit she’s a looker,” says Steve.

Alejandro says nothing to the man and walks into his and Matt’s room.

The car ride was silent until Matt spoke up.

“Did you get Counseling?” asks Matt.

“Mandatory,” says Alexis.

“Fuck the last time I saw you was two years ago,” says Matt.

‘Well you didn’t call,” says Alexis.

“Would you have answered?” asks Matt.

“For you? Always,” says Alexis.

Matts smiles and holds back tears. He decides to change the subject.

“I saw you get cozy with Alejandro on our way to Tucson,” points out Matt.

“What? No, I was asleep, I had no control,” defends Alexis.

“Don’t worry Alejandro seemed to like it too,” says Matt.

“You mean your Sicario friend?” asks Alexis.

Matt glances at his sister, surprised that she picked that up so quickly.

“Did you tell Kate or Reggie?” asks Matt concerned.

“Of course, I didn’t,” says Alexis.

“He’s trying to stop Diaz and Alarcon,” says Matt.

“Why?” asks Alexis.

“They killed his wife and daughter,” says Matt.

“Ah so I was right, he is Alexandro Gillick,” says Alexis.  

“I’m surprised that you didn’t question me during the mission,” says Matt.

“I’m just here to do whatever I have to do, clear this world of dangerous men,” says Alexis.

“I think you and Alejandro share the same philosophy then,” says Matt.

Alexis turn in her seat and looks at her brother. “Are you trying to hook me up with your friend because if you are I will shoot you,” says Alexis.

“Oh, please you’ll be thanking me,” says Matt.

“Asshole,” says Alexis.

“Yes, we are, anyways I’m here,” says Matt.

Alexis opens the car door about to go to her apartment.

“Wait, I’ll walk you to your apartment,” says Matt.

Alexis doesn’t complain knowing that beneath his cool persona Matt was a softy.

Authors Note:

I hope you guys are like this story so far.

[hockeylvr59]

Life Changes Part 6 || Paul Bissonnette

Summary: It’s crazy how quickly your life can change...one minute you’re a struggling personal injury lawyer and the next you’re working for one of the hottest sports podcasts to supplement your income. A new job and the end of a long-term relationship was just the beginning for Leigh Thompson when it comes to life changes. Thankfully she has the one and only Paul Bissonnette at her side to help her handle them all. 

Authors Note: Splitting this next segment up into at least two parts because otherwise, it will be insanely long (this part contains 2 of at least 6 events that I have in mind for this short span of time). I’d love to know what you think of this chapter, especially considering that Paul is very much present. Also please feel free to send me any songs that you think I should add to the series playlist. 

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no    Warnings: cursing.   Word Count: 2,865+ text convos

_____________________________________________________________

“True life is lived when tiny changes occur.” 

From the moment I’d been hired by the podcast, I’d been working on putting together all of the details for a Vegas trip for the NHL awards. Now, after months of hard work, everything was set for the guys to spend a week in Vegas. Our title sponsor for the trip was one of the many hotel-casinos who had reserved a 4 bedroom suite for the podcast hosts as well as a few standard rooms for the camera and production guys. Additionally, all of the media passes for the event were ready to go and I knew the boys had lined up quite a few guests. With everything set and the awards only a week away I was hoping to maybe be able to take a mini-vacation myself at home while they partied it up and got tons of content to last through the summer. 

It had been maybe an hour from when I sent the boys an email with all of the important details for the trip when my phone buzzed with an incoming text from Paul. 

______

So, because I lacked all capability to tell Paul Bissonnette ‘no’ when he asked me to do something, I was currently pulling my suitcase through the Vegas airport at almost midnight the night before the awards. Checking my phone I saw that Paul had texted me one message with the room number and which room in the suite was ours as well as another saying that the rest of the boys had gone out but that he’d be there when I got in. I had previously told him not to wait up for me and had even fought with him when he wanted to come to pick me up. It was completely ridiculous for him to even think about taking an Uber to the airport just to uber back to the hotel. 

Grabbing a cab, it wasn’t long before I had arrived at the hotel and after stopping at the front desk for a key to the room and to make sure the boys hadn’t had any problems with the reservations, I took the elevator upstairs and let myself into a dark and silent suite. Part of me had expected Paul to be up watching tv or something but it was too quiet for that. He’d said that we were staying in the first room on the right and so I quietly headed over, pausing in the doorway when my eyes caught sight of him. 

The only light in the room was coming from the open blinds letting in the city lights and Paul was sprawled out on the bed on his stomach fast asleep. The way the light and shadows highlighted the muscles of his naked back made my body react involuntarily and I took a deep breath trying not to gasp. Reminding myself that this was definitely just the pregnancy hormones getting the best of me, I slipped into the room and closed the door to the living room behind me. 

As quietly as I could, I hung my dress up in the wardrobe and got my pajamas and things for bed out of my suitcase before sneaking into the bathroom to get ready to go to sleep. It was beyond late and with the time change, I was exhausted. Paul was still taking up most of the bed when I stepped out of the bathroom and flipped off the light, using the flashlight on my phone to guide me across the room to close the curtains and then to the edge of the bed. Perched on what little bed was not occupied by a large man, I gently reached out and rubbed my hand over his back trying to stir him just enough that he’d roll over and make room. Getting no reaction I sighed. 

“Paul...are you actually gonna share the bed like you promised or am I stuck sleeping on the couch tonight?” I whispered. Rubbing his back once more I felt his muscles twitch and suddenly his body was moving, arm reaching out to take my hand and pull me into him. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes as I settled into his embrace, his solid chest pressed into my back. As his body shifted to surround me further, the hand that had grabbed mine moved to drape over my waist. 

We’d snuggled like this before, but back then I didn’t have a 21-week baby bump protruding from my front. It was clear that in his sleepy state he expected what he was used to before because the moment his arm didn’t drape the way he expected he froze against me. A change in his breathing signaled that he was now actually awake and his hand gently caressed my stomach for a moment. 

“Holy shit Leigh…” His sleep laden voice murmured from behind me. “You...that’s...I didn’t...wow.” Shaking my head at him a little I rolled onto my back so that I could look over at him. As I shifted, Paul reached over to tap the bedside light on, allowing us to actually see each other. 

“It’s called a baby bump Paul...this is kinda what happens when you’re pregnant and the baby starts to get bigger. There’s only so much space in there for the baby to grow otherwise.” His gaze was dark and lazy as our eyes met before he swept a look up and down my body taking in the changes that he’d missed due to living on separate sides of the country. 

“I knew that…” He declared, glaring at me softly. “I just...I don’t know. I haven’t seen you in a few months and I don’t know why but I wasn’t expecting you to be showing. Not like this.” I knew he wasn’t implying that I was fat or anything, just that his brain hadn’t actually processed the changes that my body would undergo during pregnancy. 

“Not so easy to hide anymore huh?” I questioned and he nodded but his eyes hadn’t left my stomach, nor had his hand. 

“Fuck...I...are you okay with me touching?” He asked at least being conscious enough to know that women frequently complained about people touching their bellies. It was clear that he wanted to touch and explore. To make the connection between the baby that we so frequently talked about and how said baby currently existed inside me. Smiling over at him I nodded, though he wasn’t looking and therefore didn’t see it. 

“Go for it,” I assured him. “You are one of the few people I think I can put on my approved bump touch list.” I teased. Part of me had at least expected him to crack a smile at that but I don’t think he was paying attention to my words since the second I gave him permission to touch. 

The way his strong fingers grazed over my belly so gently caused a shiver to run up my spine and I just watched him for a moment before closing my eyes and relaxing. For a few minutes, he just caressed and pressed his palm to my stomach before his fingers dipped down to the edge of my shirt. Peeking up at him I could see the adoration in his eyes as he looked at the way my body had adapted to growing the little boy or girl inside of me. I felt blessed to know that he already loved this baby so much even though he had no real reason to and it made me want to give him as much as I could so far as letting him bond with the baby went. 

“Here…” I breathed, rolling just slightly to adjust my shirt so that it rested just under my breasts, exposing the skin of my stomach to him, stretch marks and all. I knew that touching through clothes was one thing but letting him see the way that my skin had stretched, and letting him touch without that barrier in the way was something else entirely. 

Paul’s hand quickly found its way back to the bump and when he looked up at me again his eyes were moist with tears. Meeting his gaze with concern, I reached over to brush my thumb against his cheek. 

“Sorry.” He mumbled, his body leaning into my touch as much as I had his earlier. “I just...this is incredible. I...I didn’t expect that this would affect me so much.” It was totally understandable for him to have that reaction and I did my best to communicate that to him without words. My own voice was stuck in my throat seeing him get emotional over something that I’d personally gotten used to because it was my new normal. “You...I hope you know that you were beautiful before...but you’re absolutely gorgeous like this. Pregnancy suits you.” The intent behind his words confused me but he was so sure of them that I couldn’t help the flush that came over my entire body. Catching my breath after a moment I glanced over at the alarm clock beside the bed. 

“So...can we go to sleep now...because it’s the middle of the night back home and being pregnant is exhausting.” My words seemed to snap Paul out of his trance. 

“Fuck...of course. I...goodnight Leigh.” His words were spoken with a soft kiss to my temple, but before I could attempt to roll over, Paul had shifted, leaning over me. “Goodnight dustbunny.” He added and for a split second his lips were pressed against my stomach before he was laying back down beside me, a sheepish look on his face. “Didn’t want baby to feel left out.” He mumbled before switching the light back off so that we could all get some sleep. 

Tucked back against his chest, I was nearly off to dreamland when I heard him whisper softly into the room. “I’m here for whatever you and your mama need dustbunny...that’s a promise.” 

__________________________

When I woke the next morning, Paul was still passed out beside me. Gingerly, I slid out of his arms needing first to use the bathroom and then to get some food before the baby decided to protest. After taking care of my bladder needs and slipping on a pair of shorts, I quietly opened the door to the living room wondering if the boys had any food in the kitchen or if they’d eaten out for every single meal since arriving in Vegas. 

Padding softly through the living room around to the little kitchen in the suite, I could hear RA and Grinnell talking softly from over by the patio doors. When I arrived in the kitchen I found a couple of small boxes of cereal as well as a small bottle of milk in the minifridge. Pouring myself a bowl of cereal, I rubbed the remaining sleep from my eyes before moving back to lean against the counter dividing the kitchen and living space while I ate. It was only then that I addressed the crew’s oldest host and our production manager by saying good morning. 

Both quickly returned my greeting but didn’t look over at me right away. However, upon finishing their conversation, they turned to me and it was comical to see the double-take that Mikey did when his eyes saw me. 

“What the fuck is that?” He asked only to be scolded by RA murmuring a ‘dude…’ in his direction. Swallowing the bite of cereal I’d put into my mouth I started laughing at how thrown these two grown men seemed at the sight of a pregnant woman. 

“Um...surprise?” I stated, trying to downplay things in order to not generate a large reaction. 

“Why didn’t Biz fucking tell us he’s gonna be a dad?” Mikey exclaimed, visibly getting worked up and speaking without really thinking about his words. Again RA tried to get him to shut up for a minute but he continued to rant for a moment about how ‘this was a big deal’ and ‘since when did Biz keep secrets like this….’ 

“Michael Grinnell...will you shut up for a minute?” I declared, setting my now empty bowl down on the counter. “Biz didn’t tell you that he’s gonna be a dad because he’s not…” I immediately motioned for him to let me continue but before I could, a voice sounded from my left.

“How far along do you think she is dumbass?” Ryan Whitney chirped as he made his way into the kitchen for his own breakfast. His lack of reaction to what he’d just walked into caught me off guard for a moment before I turned to look at him. 

“How long have you known?” I asked accusatorily.  He at least had the courtesy to look guilty as he mumbled that I probably already knew the answer to that. Carding my fingers through my hair, I sighed and shook my head. “You’ve known as long as Paul has…” I was slightly annoyed by that and it clearly showed on my face causing Whit to backpedal. 

“I didn’t know know…” He explained. “Yes...Biz texted me asking if you being sick the way you were was normal and the suspicion was kind of unspoken. He never actually told me that you were though...it was just pretty obvious when the two of you posted scenic pictures when I knew he was taking you to the doctors’. If it was a bug you would have been in bed resting, long drive implies a distraction and it wasn’t hard to figure out from that, that his suspicions had been right.” I couldn’t really be angry about the fact that he’d deduced it based on information obtained before anyone knew for certain that I was pregnant. “Plus...Biz has been different the past few months and it’s pretty obvious why…” He added, gesturing toward my stomach. 

“So….if Biz isn’t the dad…” Mikey jumped back into the conversation, his expression suggesting that he’d been thinking a little too hard about all of this. Suddenly his eyes went wide. “Oh...shit.” He murmured like it had all hit him at once. Needing to take control of the situation back I placed a hand on my stomach, taking a deep breath. 

“Yes. I’m pregnant. No, we’re not talking about the whole paternity situation. Yes, Paul and evidently Whit have known for a few months. I didn’t tell my parents until last month and I’m not ready to go fully public with an announcement yet which is why I hadn’t said anything. Now, if we can just move on...that would be wonderful.” 

Thankfully Whit was able to distract RA and Grinnell with a discussion of setting up for the interviews they were recording before the awards tonight and I was able to slip back to the bedroom, suddenly feeling like I needed a nap even though I’d just woke up. 

I’d been staring out the window, trying to clear my mind and decide what I wanted to do until I had to start getting ready when a pair of arms wrapped around my waist and I was pulled back into a firm chest. 

“You okay?” Paul asked, his fingers once again rubbing gentle circles over the expanse of my stomach. Leaning into him I nodded and just focused on his touch and soothing presence. 

“The boys know.” I eventually whispered and I could feel him chuckle softly. 

“I mean...I kind of figured...it only takes one look at you like this.” Feeling his lips press against my hair I sighed. “Plus I could hear Grinnell freaking out. Are you okay with the cat being out of the bag so to speak?” Shrugging I sighed but didn’t say anything. I kind of had to be okay, though it did again bring the fear of the world finding out tonight on national tv to the front of my mind. I could only pray that the dress I’d found would do a sufficient job of hiding my growing stomach in the way that a pair of shorts and a clingy tank top couldn’t. 

Spinning me around Paul pulled me into a hug. We stood like that for a few minutes before there was a knock on the bedroom door with RA calling out that Paul needed to get his ass into gear so they could get started. When he pulled back reluctantly, he kissed the top of my head. 

“I’ll be fine...go,” I assured him. “Dustbunny and I are just gonna lay back down for a little while. I’ll set an alarm to wake me in a couple hours so I can start getting ready for tonight.” 

With one more caress of my bump, Paul retreated to the living room to work and I slipped back into bed, pulling his pillow from his side of the bed to cuddle. With sounds of laughter coming from the next room I quickly drifted off to sleep, hoping that I would wake up more excited for the awards than I currently felt. 

No Social Media for this Chapter. 

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

October 20, 2020

Heather Cox Richardson

Trump is acting as if he expects to lose the election. Today, on the Fox News Channel, he hammered again on the discredited Hunter Biden laptop story and lashed out at Attorney General William Barr for not pursuing it. “We’ve got to get the Attorney General to act,” he said. “He’s got to act, and he’s got to act fast. He’s got to appoint somebody. This is major corruption, and this has to be known about before the election. And by the way, we’re doing very well. We’re going to win the election. We’re doing very well.”

Today the FBI declined to comment on the story, saying in a letter to Senator Ron Johnson (R-WI), who had asked for information about the alleged laptop, that “consistent with longstanding Department of Justice… policy and practice, the FBI” was not getting involved in this political effort. “If actionable intelligence is developed,” Assistant Director of the Office of Congressional Affairs Jill C. Tyson wrote, “the FBI in consultation with the Intelligence Community will evaluate the need to provide… briefings….”

Trump also lashed out at Lesley Stahl, the host of CBS’s 60 Minutes, after he walked out of an interview. On Sunday, 60 Minutes is running a special featuring interviews with Trump, Vice President Mike Pence, Democratic presidential nominee Joe Biden, and Democratic vice presidential nominee Kamala Harris. Trump was apparently angry that Stahl asked him about coronavirus, his attacks on Michigan Governor Gretchen Whitmer and infectious disease authority Dr. Anthony Fauci, and the size of the crowds at his rallies.

Trump’s people were taping the interview themselves, allegedly to archive it, but after he left, Trump took to Twitter, where he threatened to release the video himself to undercut 60 Minutes. “I am pleased to inform you that, for the sake of accuracy in reporting, I am considering posting my interview with Lesley Stahl of 60 Minutes, PRIOR TO AIRTIME! This will be done so that everybody can get a glimpse of what a FAKE and BIASED interview is all about…” he tweeted. “Everyone should compare this terrible Electoral Intrusion with the recent interviews of Sleepy Joe Biden!”

While there has been some tightening in the polls, giving a boost to Trump, there are signs he is right to be worried. In the Washington Post today, Greg Sargent noted that at the congressional district level, Trump is significantly behind his 2016 polling with both working class and college-educated white people. Interviewing David Wasserman of the Cook Political Report, Sargent quoted Wasserman’s observation that Trump is consistently running 8 to 10 points behind where he did in 2016. He is doing even worse in wealthy suburbs. He is doing better than he did in 2016 in heavily Hispanic districts in Florida and Texas, but that will not help him much in Pennsylvania, Michigan, and Wisconsin. He needs to build more support among white voters, but he has only two weeks left to do it.

After being on-again, off-again for a new coronavirus relief bill, Trump is now eager to have one before the election, and House Speaker Nancy Pelosi (D-CA) and Treasury Secretary Steven Mnuchin appear to be close to a deal. But news broke today that Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-KY) has privately told Republican senators that he opposes the idea, and has warned the White House not to negotiate with Pelosi before the election.

Some Republicans object to the price tag of a big measure; others don’t want to have to choose between agreeing with Trump or upsetting their relief-hating base. McConnell is also determined not to let anything interrupt the tight schedule he has established for the confirmation of Amy Coney Barrett to the Supreme Court before the election. It is also likely the Republicans are not eager to pass a big relief bill just before an election that might put a Democrat in power, thus boosting his chances of rebuilding the economy.

It is also true, though, that Trump has less clout with Republican lawmakers than ever before, and they are trying to distance themselves from him.

Meanwhile, Democratic presidential nominee Joe Biden today stayed out of the news as he prepares for Thursday’s presidential debate. It hit me, as I was reading the news today, how blissfully normal it sounds to imagine a president who actually prepares for things, and who is not in the news all day, every day. Apparently, I’m not the only one to feel that way: Axios reports that this month popular engagement with Biden’s Twitter account and videos have passed Trump’s. So have Biden’s follower numbers. Biden’s town hall last week also drew more viewers.

Just why this election is so important received powerful illustration tonight. In 2017, the Trump administration began a pilot program to deter refugees from coming to America by taking away migrants’ children. It broke up more than 1000 families. The next year, the program became official, and the administration forcibly removed more than 2,800 children from their parents in May and June of that year. Most of those families were still in custody when a federal judge ordered the program stopped and the families reunited. Today NBC broke the story that lawyers appointed to identify the separated families have not been able to find the parents of 545 of the children, and that the administration actually deported about two-thirds of those parents during the pilot program while keeping their children behind. Those children are now in America with relatives or foster families.

Almost immediately after this news broke, the administration put out a press release announcing that “THE TRUMP ADMINISTRATION IS COMMITTED TO COMBATING HUMAN TRAFFICKING AND PROTECTING THE INNOCENT.” It listed the ways in which the administration has taken on this crime. Pedophilia and human trafficking are the central concerns of the conspiracy theory QAnon, so the press release both addressed the administration’s policy of stripping children from their parents and nodded to QAnon supporters.

Other revelations today included news from the continuing investigation by the New York Times into Trump’s tax records. It turns out that, for all Trump’s attempts to smear Biden by claiming he is too close to China, Trump himself has a bank account in the country which he did not list on his public financial disclosures because it is held under a corporate name. The account paid $188,561 in taxes in China from 2013 to 2015. Biden’s income taxes, which-- unlike the president-- he released, show neither business dealings nor income from China.

Today, in a plea deal, Elliott Broidy, a major Trump fundraiser and deputy finance chair of the Republican National Committee, pleaded guilty to acting as an unregistered foreign agent. Broidy admitted to lobbying the Trump administration for Chinese and Malaysian interests in exchange for millions of dollars. Broidy forfeited $6.6 million, and agreed to cooperate with prosecutors in return for their recommendation of lenience at sentencing. Like Trump, Broidy was one of Trump fixer Michael Cohen’s clients.

In the midst of all this, there is, today, what appears to be excellent news: two new studies show that deaths for hospitalized Covid-19 patients have dropped sharply since the start of the pandemic. When it began, hospitalized patients had a 25.6% chance of dying; now that rate is 7.6%. There are a number of reasons for this apparent drop, but the three that seem most important are a better understanding of the disease, standard procedures for care, and mask wearing, which reduces how much virus initially infects a patient. The disease remains vicious, of course, but mortality rates 18 percentage points lower now than they were at the start of the pandemic are definitely moving in the right direction.

—-

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

 Heather Cox Richardson

[oh-theatre]

Objection!: Chapter 15

Chapter title: I Get So Emotional

A/n:  Me: Make it angst Also me: But what if he's fine? Also me: More characters to hate?? ANYWHO, I’m love all of them so much? Sorry, it took an extra day! I needed some time! Also, I am seriously regretting this slow burn because I have so many good ideas but they have to be together and I just- fojdosjldjs argh! ALSO, I REALIZE I MIGHT NOT HAVE GIVEN YOU ALL THE LETTERS SO I JUST GAVE THEM TO YOU NOW. Anyway! I hope you enjoy and please do leave me some comments!!

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words: 4973

summary: The precinct runs amok after the discovery of a tense situation

pairings: Eventual logicality, eventual prinxiety, platonic demus, romantic remile

warnings: Murder mention, child murder, Law and Courtroom, swearing, blood, murder, gun mention, guns, hinted abuse, LIAM AND BAD PARENTS, Angst

Ao3 Link  

It was the soft brushing moment, the brief touch as they walked into the courthouse, silent as they connected just for a second. The twins slept peacefully in their stroller, the amber sky yet to awaken to the fresh blue tides. It was a short and quick shock, as the energy from their fingers transferred to one another. The soft giggle escaping his mouth as he pushed the doors open. Not a single word spoken, not that there needs to be.

“Good morning Lo” Patton greets pushing the twin's stroller further in, Logan holds open the door making sure all three members escape the chilly air brought from the November wind.

“Patton” Logan returns, it's almost coy as if the pair share a secret. He turns his attention to the huddled twins, smiling at their sleepy demeanor. “Need a hand?” He offers watching Patton balance quite a few items easily, even so, he wishes to help.

“Oh! I'm alright thank you” He responds, the redness gathering upon his skin subject to Logans offer, although he will claim it was simply the cold extremities. Logan hums in return as they make their way to the desk to check-in, a brisk conversation with Jenny. “What's on the docket for today?” Patton asks, the pair wander down the hallowed halls, the early morning court proceedings spreading a gentle murmur.

“Well, we…” He gives a side glance as he includes Patton, Patton pays no mind simply listening “Have a few hours until the trial...I was wondering if you would want to work on...our case?” They turn the corner towards the offices.

“That sounds wonderful!” Patton pauses “Well not wonderful but good, t-that we are working on it ya know? Together and it-” Patton rambles

“I understand Patton” Logan takes his hand stopping him. A grateful glance is administered while the pair continue walking, Logan leads now making their way to his office. The twins shuffle but ultimately prove to be fast asleep, charging through their dreams with delight. Once they arrive Logan mimics an earlier movement, holding open the door for Patton, allowing him to just barely squeeze the stroller through. He places the twin carefully next to his chair before sitting down across from Logan as he had done so many times.

“Hmm” He hums as he rocks the twins slowly back and forth, Logan watches a small smile spread across his face. Feeling more comfortable than usual, the prolonged time they had been spending together no doubt the cause.

“I have questions” Logan prompts, Patton meets his eyes, his brow furrowed with curiosity. He smiles returning to the soft rocking of the stroller.

“I might have answers” He replies, Logan deems this satisfactory and uses this as an invitation.

“The twin's mother-” He stops himself wondering if that's the right term, it implies the woman had anything to do with raising them which would not be fair to Patton. “Uh…”

“Maya” Patton responds “Her name was Maya, she was very kind” He informs, Logan nods.

“Maya did she...was she…” Logan begins to realize he might not have been as thorough or organized as he had hoped. Patton takes a deep breath, his gaze still fallen on the twins.

“She was very very kind” Patton begins, Logan looks towards him allowing him to push forward “She didn't want kids however and well...I did.” Logan had mastered how to take notes quickly and hidden, it was useful. “She picked me right away and it was…” Patton sighs, his eyes stay planted on twins. Logan accounts for the singular perspective, no ‘we’ or ‘us’.

“Did she name them?” Logan wonders, he knows some details but the circumstances surrounding the day they were born were always a little cloudy. Patton laughs carefully, oozing sweetness.

“Oh no no...Maya was very sweet but she didn't want anything to do with them. Not in a malicious way, of course, she simply just didn't want children. I named them” Logan can picture it perfectly. “I miss her sometimes, she was so sweet. We wanted to stay friends but we agreed that we didn't want her to be apart of their life.”

“You know you haven't mentioned Liam once” Logan reminds, Patton gives a coy smile, a glint of pride in his eyes. “That's...I am proud of you Patton” Logan declares, Patton finally meets his eyes. A slight tint of red spreading across his freckles.

“I am too” He agrees

“He isn't...technically-”

“No, he has no legal claim over the children. He ...well he refused to sign the papers which I am grateful for. It made the split a lot easier for them” He explains “I have sole custody over the children…” Patton trails off, he purses his lips “Lo, show me your notes” Logan coughs, tapping his chest lightly.

“W-what...I” Patton continues his stare, it's one he uses on his children. Logan sighs handing his notepad to the lawyer, Patton smirks as he reads them, his words scribbled on the page.

“You could have just told me it was for the case, I did come to you for help” He assures, Logan bites his lip taking his notes. “Although, I don't think the twins will be a pivotal point, as I said, there was no issue with them. He can't claim custody or parental claim over them” He hates to admit it but sometimes Logan forgets Patton himself is a lawyer.

“True but even so…” Logan hands him a couple of files, opening his own copy on his side. Patton skims through recognizing them instantly. “He has tried to fight you for custody before”

“Yes he has, and lost almost immediately” Patton leans back, melting into the chair. “I see your point however, do you mind?” Patton asks hovering over the pens, Logan gestures allowing him to take one, they continue looking over old files for a while somehow ending up slightly fiddling with each other's fingers over the desk. It's soft, almost playful... However, the twins soon become restless as their minds itch for a taste of reality. Remus wakes first, sitting up grouchy on his side of the stroller. Patton wishes he had seen it coming, the little pout that forms...it always leads to-

“Dada!” Remus cries sniffly tears run down his cheek. Patton bounces out of his dazed state recoiling his fingers from Logans touch, a disappointment to both. Remus continues crying, Pattons used to it. Valerie was better about it but something always set the little boy off. He always awoke to a bad dream, rushing for his father's comfort.

“I've gotcha” Patton strains as he lifts Remus out of his stroller, cradling him in his arms. He wraps his small arms around his father, crying gently into his shoulder.

Logan awaits on the side, he understands. He once read a study that thoroughly described the many reasons that a child might wake up crying. ‘Inappropriate’ sleep onset associations, as explained by Doctor Ferber deemed that a child might become used to sleeping circumstances that are not later present causing them to feel unfamiliar. A set schedule is another reason, a child has had the same sleeping schedule for too long and it no longer fits their needs, causing them to feel uncomfortable. And finally, environmental factors. Doctor Ferber described how things in the environment can unsettle a child, a TV, various noises, the temperature, etc.

Logan expected the crying to stop or falter, he didn't mind but he would like to see Remus happy. However, it continued, possibly growing louder. Patton sighs rocking Remus back and forth, clearly trying every method that usually works. Remus mumbles incoherently and Patton does his best to listen but nothing seems to soothe the child.

“Patton” Logan gains the lawyer's attention, he extends his arms cocking his head slightly. Patton hesitates for a moment before placing Remus into Logan's arms, the lawyer takes him not sure how to hold him at first. It doesn't seem like he’ll need to figure it out as Remus takes his cue to adjust cozily in Logan's arms, he sniffles as Logan begins a careful hum. Patton stops his body sending a striking shiver down his spine, he’s heard Roman sing and heard his own musings but this was different. The voice was so quiet, an angelic tune carried, not that he noticed through his entrancement but Remus slowly fell calm. Logan finishes stroking Remus's cheek lovingly as he does so.

“That was amazing Logan” Patton compliments, if hearts could pulse from his eyes they would. “You have a beautiful voice” He admits, Logan stares up at him.

“My mother used to do that for me, while my mom was at work” Logan recalls, Patton nods listening, he had met Logan's mothers before. Patton adored them, and though unknown to Patton, they loved him. “Is this a frequent occurrence?” Logan ponders

“A little lately, I think he's just been having some bad dreams,” Patton says reaching over the desk to hold Remus’s hand as he makes silly faces up at Logan. “I wan-” He wants to finish his sentence but the door swings open quite abruptly, three figures overshadowing the desk. Patton turns to face them his face drops in dripping fear. “Mom? Dad?” He whispers

“Hello Patton” They confirm

~~~

“Morning Emile” Virgil yawns his greeting as the doctor slumps his way into the precinct. He turns facing Virgil's desk now, his eyes darting around Remy's area. “You ok?” He checks

“Have you seen Remy? I called him last night but that was about it. I thought he might be here with you, or still working on the case” He rambles checking his watch. “We have a pretty important lunch today” Emile accentuates, Virgil nods. He's known Emile long enough, he was less worried about the lunch and more worried about Remy.

“Why don't we go ask Carlton? He was the last person to see Remy” Virgil suggests, the room is quiet as the department awakens to the sound of fresh coffee and early morning perpetrators. Though not part of his plan, Haley striding by was also a good option. He stops her gently grabbing her arm, she turns disheveled, her eyes sunken. “Hey uh...you good?” She purses her lips, Virgil rushes “We were looking for Remy, do yo-

“You haven't heard, have you? No makes sense, we just got the news” Emile fidgets harders as Haley's words fall from her mouth.

“Haley” Virgil questions, his face darkens as the possibilities race through his mind. Imprinting themselves into his brain. He shakes them out, they couldn't be that bad, they just couldn't.

“We have a hostage situation” Haley mutters, Virgil's grip loosens but he can't hear anymore. Just simple mumblings as Haley describes something even worse. Virgil picks on a few words, each making his blood boil. “Carlton...mole...Remy...crime scene...Emile!” Virgil spins just in time, catching a very pale Emile. He regains his posture fanning himself, whispering a very timid apology.

“I want to help, please” Virgil begs, Haley bites her lip, clicking it.

“Fine, but I'm warning you, Virgil. You cannot get emotional” Haley threatens, Virgil nods about to follow her towards the conference room. As though a chain, he feels his arm grabbed. “Emile?” He fears knowing what he will have to decline.

“Please...get him back” Emile begs, Virgil's eyebrows raise, his face softens. He isn't...he doesn't...he pulls Emile into a brief hug. Something they both needed. “Make that son of bitch pay” He jokes sadly through tears, Virgil nods as they pull away. Virgil gives him a last glance before rushing into the room, the clamoring of people would typically overwhelm Virgil but he has more important things on his mind.

“Alright, where do you want me?” He asks Haley adamant to do anything, the captain finishes her conversation turning to the detective. Her face drops slightly, Virgil understands.

“Look, I'm letting you help but you can't be apart of-” Virgil taps impatiently, Haley continues “I want you to unscramble these goddamn letters. They might have something in them” Haley moans, handing him a board with neatly printed letters.

“Well, guess I should tell Patton his clients innocent” Virgil sighs, a dry laugh caught in his throat. Haley tilts her head pulling out her phone.

“This doesn't take George off the table” Haley declares, she opens up her phone clicking play. Virgil was not prepared to hear his voice.

“So...its you” Remy's voice, though muffled, remains calm.

“Not necessarily” Carlton replies, his voice dripping with evil. Not to be dramatic of course. “I had to, unfortunately, take care of a few...bodies. But fret not, I'm no killer” The line goes dead and Virgil can't help but smirk.

“Fucking brilliant” He marvels “His call with Emile, he added you on didn't he?” Virgil questions, Haley joins his smirk nodding.  “So George could still be guilty but have Carlton do some of his dirty work?” Haley shrugs unfortunate “Alright, letters” Virgil snaps, he races towards his desk, avoiding looking through the window in Emile's office. He just can't look at him, not now. He will look at him when he can cause a smile to spread, pointing him towards the direction of a hopefully unphased Remy. He returns fast setting up magnet letters upon the board, ordering them alphabetically first, nothing proves of them so in order of how he got them.

“E, L, I, T, A, L, W, S, L, I, A, A” Dylan lists, Haley had instructed he help Virgil. “It's like a really dark game of scrabble” Virgil's eyes widen, he turns to Dylan aware of the slight murderous look on his face.

“Not Latin, not secret code, no it's simple” Virgil mutters, Dylan will admit, he's frightened. “It's so so simple” And he sets off for the next moments no one could see what was happening. Virgil works quickly rearranging the letters in every possible way. Some words appear, but nothing, nothing makes a sentence, nothing gets him a step closer. The frustrated grunt he releases confirms his failure. Not like it matters, he was sent on a fool's errand, a distraction. He knew this from the moment Haley asked him to do it, the letters, while they might provide something, were not relevant. Remy would disagree.

“But what if they reveal the name of the murderer? Or the final murder? Or why he's doing it?” Remy rambles, clearly recovering from a coffee high. Virgil moans, plopping his head into his arms. His desk feels cold, like the pillow once turned over.

“Or maybe you've been watching too much-

“Don't! I have not! I have not! Nopety nope!” Remy bounces scrambling the letters they have once more, Virgil groans spinning in his chair. “Bet you twenty bucks it's gonna reveal something!” Remy shoots out his hand awaiting Virgils.

“I'll take that bet, I think it's just a final message or a game” Virgil shakes his hand, instantly regretting it as his hand bounces. “Oh my god, can we go now? I'm exhausted and Dam-

“Shush! I'm having an epiphany” Remy decides, he sits on the ground crossing his legs. His eyes shut as he begins to hum.

“No darling, you're having an energy rush” Emile points, Virgil thanks him with a gesture. The doctor leans over kissing his partner on the forehead softly, he takes his reluctant hand leading the detective away. Virgil waves them farewell with a smirk.

“Hey! We got it! We found our entrance!” Haley calls, Virgil turns towards her, she sighs…”Detective Tormine, you coming or not?” Virgil claps delighted, grabbing his things.

~~~

“What are you...doing here?” Patton stands, Logan can not read his face. Its morphed so much in the past few seconds, Logan stands with him. He clutches tighter to Remus as he stares the figures down. He had met Patton's parents a few times, but they never said much to him. And honestly? Logan had a hard time staying around them for a long time, he cant listen to them talk about Patton in such a way, which seemed to be the only way they talked about him. Remus yawns squirming softly in Logan's arms.

“Oh, he's precious” Patton's mother, Gloria, compliments. “Is he yours?” She wonders Patton releases a desperate breath.

“No, he's...he’s mine” Patton begs, Glorias sighs recoiling, disappointed. Logan struggles to restrain himself, he baffles at the two of them. “Mom?” Patton's voice is so soft, he can't manage the words.

“Patton, don't get emotional” Gloria warns, Patton flares his nostrils, the phrase was spoken so much it was seared into his mind. “I didn't recognize your son, it is not a big deal” Logan...needs to walk that off. He can't fathom…

“Yeah guess that happens after five years doesn't it?” Patton quips, finally another voice pipes up. Liam stands behind Patton's parents, he laughs a sickly smile across his face. Patton laughs regretfully, a scoff escapes. “You called my parents? Are you five? I-” He stops himself “I'm not doing this in front of my children” He declares

“Why is this man holding your child?” Patton's father, Arlo, questions. Logan wonders if he really doesn't recognize him or if he's being petty. Logan goes to speak but Patton's ready.

“His name is Logan and he is…” Liam peaks over, a knowing coy smile “Doing more than you have ever done” Patton claims staring pointedly at his former partner, Logan asserts his posture. “Lo?” His voice shifts instantly, it's quiet and gentle. Logan would've swooned had he not been staring daggers, at...certain people. Logan understands however, he moves around the desk placing Remus carefully into the stroller, assuring the boy is secure. He starts to roll away stopping in front of Patton who takes his hand. “Thank you” He whispers, Logans not sure how to express how he would do anything in a heartbeat. He squeezes Patton's hand, lingering only slightly as they pull away. He pushes past the trio without giving them a single look, leaving his office he decides to settle in Patton's office, knowing the twins would be able to play there.

“I'm disappointed in you” Gloria hasn't moved, her hands stay crossed in front of her, her gloves in her hand as she takes a less than happy look around. “And is that man your new boyfriend? Is that what you chose?” She insults, Patton ignores it, he’d rather not go into what he...feels for Logan at the moment. (Or the fact that she would ever degrade him in such a way when he means...everything...)

“Oh, that's new” Patton replies dryly “Moms disappointed everyone! Gather around while she tells you everything wrong with you” Patton mocks, he realizes how much he's bottled up. Five years has caused so much and staring in the face of the woman who has caused more agony than should ever be set upon a person. “Oh! And don't forget the yelling match she’ll have with dad later while you and your sister cower in fear” Patton adds, Gloria's face might as well have been dipped in red.

“Patton Hart, you will stop right now” Gloria demands, Arlo nods warning his son.

“Five years mother” Patton states, he keeps steady, precisely picturing images of his children smiling, Logan doing his rare laugh, Roman and Virgil and…

“Yes I see that that was not a good decision now” Gloria looks around, Patton hates how she views his office. Logan's office was one of Patton's favorite places, how dare she see it with such contempt, what right does she have? “Patton you're going to come home with us, Liam is going to help you through this and-” Patton almost laughs, almost.

“Uh, that's super interesting mom” Patton smiles nodding a little to ecstatically “That's great, you know, I'm just gonna squeeze by you and go uh...anywhere else” He decides pushing past his parents, nudging Liam maybe a little harder than needed. Ignoring the seized calls for his name he marches through the courthouse. He stutters a breath before walking faster until he lands outside his office. He knows it's his, but he was programmed to knock. If his parents refused to teach him anything about kindness, he was going to stay up, sleepless nights, learning about what to do.

“Come in?” Logan supposes, Patton trembles over the knob before turning it open. Logan stands as he enters closing the door behind him. “Hi” Logan whispers, Patton gives a small wave, his eyes falling on the twins in the corner. They play excited with their toys, building mountains and palaces.

“Hi” He smiles at them, they smile back demonstrating their talent. He feels an overwhelming sense of warmth wrap him, the room becomes brighter. He allows the moment to work its way into his lungs, his breathing matches the steady pace of the world. It's ok, take a breath, it's ok. The twins return happily to their game sending Patton to sit across his desk, Logan watches frozen.

“Are you alright?” He checks, its the standard question something he's been asked many times. Its starts something, it gives way for Logan to continue without misinterpretation or danger of making it worse.

“I just wish...things were easier” Patton admits, Logan gives a soft laugh “You know that's the first time they've seen the twins, in person?” His voice is hushed, allowing the children sleepy serenity. It's also the first time Patton has seen his parents in five years, besides elongated silent calls and the sparse photos online, it's been distance.

“And they thought he was mine” Logan recalls, Patton taps his fingers on the desk, a smile hinted. “Not that I'm complaining” Logan adds, Patton gains a small twinkle, barely visible behind his glasses.

“Neither am I…” Logan being seen as the twin's father was far from bad, it hurt that it was his parent's own mishap. “I think they should adopt Liam” Patton sighs firmly, Logan releases a scoffed laugh, a glint of amusement upon his face.

“Ah, I don't think you should do that to Barbara” Logan retorts, Patton snaps his fingers lazily “It wouldn't be fair to her, what a downgrade, might I add” Patton chuckles, a sweet smile across his own lips. “Not to mention, Marcy would implode” Logan brings up many good points and many good distractions. And yet again, somehow, the pair meet across the desk. As if the only thing they can hold on to is one another, the soft twiddling of each other's hands and fingers, the excitement of the tickle.

“Oh! That's my phone, sorry” He pulls away, not expecting to feel so cold as their fingers part. “Patton Hart!” He greets, his face turning quickly sullen. Logan braces for the worst, his position becomes alert. The call finishes, Patton lowers his phone. “Its Remy”

~~~

“Carlton its been a day, I'm exhausted” Remy moans, he's tempting fate but if he's right…”Either kill me or let me go or get me food or coffee” His eyes widen at the mention of caffeine, anything to feel a buzz.

“I always found you so strange” Carlton muses, Remys impressed. He's been holding the gun almost all night, directed at Remy. Neither has dared move, but both felt the agonizing sore all over themselves. “More so, your partner” The same all night, he was looking, aching for a reaction. Emile seemed to be his way in but Remy used that, its fuel that he's going to get the hell out of here.

“You can't kill me can you?” Remy quips, Carlton tilts his head craving more “Waiting for mommy to give you permission?” Remy pouts mockingly, he hopes his chest emanates a steady pace.

“You got a death wish Nyx?” Carlton questions, further assuring the position of the firearm, Remy can't help but wince. Far from it, he thinks. He feels his heart pulsate in his ears. He takes a heavy breath, allowing his lungs to restart, it's harder than he thought it would be. A new trial as he stares down his death, hard to breathe, stay conscious.  

“Just a little longer” He whispers while Carlton checks his phone for what seems to be the umpteenth time. He can feel his knees grow weaker under him, the need to buckle growing only as time goes on. “Hey, what's my letter gonna be?” He asks, quickly shaking his knees before Carlton turns back.

“Are you kidding?” Carlton faces him, Remy smirks now feeling an entire breath released from his body.

“Nope, I'm stalling” He states dropping to the ground. The door swings open as cops pile in, he can hear shots fired but he feels himself intact. Incoherent shouting bruises his soft ears as something grabs him, a moment of panic sets in until he's hoisted into a hug. “Virgil” He barely whispers, tightening his grasp. Now, in the arms of his best friend, he just allows himself to fall away. Tears stream down his cheeks, staining his cheeks in permanence. He pulls away being led out of the apartment into the hall.

“Are you ok?” Virgil questions checking every inch of his friend, Remy lifts up his shirt revealing a small bruise, Virgil traces it. Remy expects the cold hands, but not the seized chill causing his body to vibrate into itself. “Did he…?” Virgil inquires, his eyebrows furrowed, a pinch of anger.

“I got cocky” Remy admits shrugging, Virgil sighs, a smirk on his face. They make their way to Virgil's car, heading to the precinct. Meanwhile…

“Emile!” Patton cries running towards him, the doctor accepts his hug instantly. Anything to stop him from chewing his nails down, until there's nothing left. “Are you alright?” He checks once they've separated, Logan catches up giving him a light squeeze.

“I think so” Emile stutters a breath, Patton keeps his hand on Emile's shoulder “I just really miss him” He admits with a sweet smile, Patton nods understandingly. “Distract me, please,” He asks softly, Patton coughs but agrees.

“Um...my...parents are back?” Patton tries, Emile looks at him clearly interested. “They want to take me- I'm sorry, Em are you ok?” Patton continues feeling awful doing so, Emile laughs dryly waving him off.

“Please, I just-” His eyes widen quickly, he slithers out of Patton's brace rushing towards something. Patton and Logan spin quickly, both faces light up as their eyes befall unto the pair hugging. “Remy!” Emile cries burying his head into the detective's shoulder. Remy falls into the hug quickly, grasping his partner tightly. He moves his kisses all around the cheek, Emile giggles through his tears. Virgil pats his friend on the back before joining the others. The pair pull away “Are you ok?” He whispers, cupping his face as he checks his partner.

“Em, I'm ok” He assures taking Emile's hands in his own, Emile sighs content landing a kiss on his lips. Remy gasps quickly, hitting himself on the forehead “The lunch! I missed the lunch, god I'm sorry” He rushes, Emile laughs wiping away his tears.

“Only you, my darling” He states shaking his head “I called the people, they understood and we rescheduled” Remy smirks, Emile shoots an ever grateful glance towards Haley and Virgil as he leads a slightly shaken Remy to his office, closing the door behind them.

“You alright Virgil?” Logan checks, Virgil releases a pented breath but nods.

“I've heard that question so many times today...but I'm good. I'm just happy he's ok” Virgil says watching the pair through the window, his eyes emanating adoration. Patton releases a squeal, Logan nudges him softly, it's playful.

“Excuse me, Mister Hart? Mister Tolentino? Mister Tormine?” The trio turn, they nod as their names are recited. “I apologize for the interruption” The man states, he holds out three golden letters, each beautifully imprinted with their names. Patton takes his, bouncing on his heels. Virgil, approaches warily, taking it nonetheless. He groans reading the insignia in the corner, Logan sighs as he reads his.

“Eek! The gala!” Patton squeals reading his invitation. Coyly he reads the letter. “Dear Mister Patton Hart” He pauses looking to Logan “That's me!” Logan's resilience crumbles away as the bright figure smiles up at him. “We cordially extend our invitation to you for this year's annual Cordenza Court Gala” He does a quick shimmy as he reads it, Virgil scoffs happily. “We hope to see you there, yours truly” He finishes, the mystery hangs with the name.

“I hate the gala” Virgil groans, Logan tilts his head in agreement.

“You just don't want Roman to ask you” Logan slips, both his and Patton's eyes go wide.

“Logan!” Patton exclaims, hitting him carefully on the shoulder. Logan sucks in a quick breath, Virgil turns to them, they can't tell if he's mad or shocked.

“What?” He starts slowly. Patton giggles awkwardly.

“Nnnnnothing, we were just talking about-” Virgil furthers his glare and Patton stomps his foot pouting. “Romans planning to ask you to the gala” He moans disappointed in himself, Virgil joins his moan shutting his eyes tight.

“I can't do this right now” He sighs waving them off as he retreats to anywhere else, Patton waves goodbye weakly. Logan turns to him, a dry smile upon his face, Patton pouts, his fatherly side apparent.

“Forgive me?” Logan hopes a slow smile spreads across the opposing lawyer’s face.

“Fine…” He says unable to continue his pout. “Now come! Preparations to be made!” He incites gallantly striding away, Logan sighs following him. Knowing he would do just the same no matter the situation. At this moment, he wishes he had Romans confidence…

Would you...like to…

He pauses watching Patton make his way out of the precinct.

Come...to the..gala...

“Lo? You coming?” Patton asks holding the elevator open for him.

...with me?

“Yes, of course”

[wordsturnintostories]

show me your rosettes, baby (g)

summary: The world tour is over and the Bangtan Boys finally get their well-deserved break. When Namjoon suddenly can’t find Jimin anywhere, things take an unexpected and pretty unbelievable turn. “Kim Namjoon!” “Hyung. How common is it for people to turn into cats?” word count: 11.7k note: sorry for not updating this baby in sooo long. i struggled with this chapter for three months and would have never gotten to this final version without @justanemptydream’s help. you saved me. thank you, love. anyway, last time i thought the chapter was long but now we’ve got an 11.7k monstrosity. let me know if you enjoyed reading it. toodles  ✨

masterlist | moodboard masterlist

[ prologue | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven ]

The room is stunningly quiet apart from Jimin’s sleepy hiccups, the soft buzzing of the fish tank and the beeps that signal that the call is not yet connected. Unsure about what to expect, Sihyuk and Namjoon hold eye contact. Then, suddenly, a woman’s voice appears on the other side of the phone.

“Welcome, Bang Sihyuk, Kim Namjoon. I am your automated call agent today. We apologize for not being personally available to take your call at the moment. To continue, please choose an option from the menu. Press 1 to access all gathered data about Park Jimin, press 3 to-“

They both look at each other.

“What the hell.”

A bird caws outside the window. The fish in the tank swim in wobbly circles. Jimin sniffles and fails to lick his side. The silence - okay, it’s more of a shock-state, but the silence seems electric, like any word will change the current and any action will push them to a point of no return.

Namjoon starts a short body-mind check, feels his brain reboot. There are not many updates; he’s still sitting in the same chair in Bang Sihyuk’s office, Jimin is still wriggling around on his lap and they are still on the phone with the weird robot lady whose number they got from a magic business card. But his heart is pounding like it wasn’t before, and his eyes and mouth hang open wide. Actual shivers flow over his skin, matching the light reflexes from the tank, and Namjoon has a weird premonition that he will break something today. The silence is almost damp with shock, and probably only rings in his ears, like he’s a hero in an action movie who’s lost his sense of hearing after the explosion of the century.

Now, Namjoon knows a lot of things other people don’t know. He knows how to make music, great music according to ARMY and the charts, and he knows how to lead a group (although most of the time, he feels like he’s not actually doing anything, thanks to his hyungs). He knows how to survive a 40-event concert tour and he knows how to dislocate a shoulder without trying to. It’s the things Namjoon doesn’t know that scare him.

He doesn’t know how anyone could have possibly found out about Jimin’s condition - he’s been extra careful the past days, restraining himself from posting cat photos on their twitter and only letting Jimin out into their private backyard to avoid prying eyes. The only people he’s told about Jimin are Min Yoongi and Bang Sihyuk. Not even the other band members know about the leopard cub roaming their apartment and gnawing on their cushions. And yet, some company or organization has found out. 

Namjoon doesn’t know what to think - on the one hand, it could be very good. It could mean that the other company has no intention of blackmailing them. It could mean that there is interest in the topic but no pressure. On the other hand, this could be bad, very bad. To know that someone else is out there, with unclear motivations (because seriously, they could still blackmail BigHit for this), with an unknown amount of information - it could mean anything. Namjoon knows as well as any other person working for BigHit how fragile success is - no matter the foundation of work underneath. BigHit and BTS have worked years - long years that cost them their all - to rise up as far as they have today and the whole business is based completely on popularity, on opinions. Opinions can change quickly, especially in the music industry. One wrong move and your career is over. Namjoon knows all this. What he doesn’t know is whether Jimin will shift back, become human again (the doubt still lingers despite what Jackson says), whether BTS will be able to go on normally, whether their next shows will happen, whether Jimin will be okay. Because if he isn’t, BTS isn’t, and if BTS isn’t, BigHit isn’t either. That’s how it works. Namjoon knows that. And that’s why he looks up to Sihyuk for help.

Namjoon is sure that Sihyuk knows all these things too, that he’s thinking about them right this moment while Namjoon has to remember to breathe properly and both ways, in and out, to stuff back his rising anxiety (just like his therapist told him, in and out, in and out). Sihyuk stays pretty quiet for a long moment, looking back at Namjoon but not really looking at him directly, more like… through him like he’s not focused at all. Then, he shakes his head and himself out of his trance and grabs his phone. Another thing Namjoon knows (by heart) is this new look on Sihyuk’s face as he looks for the contact and dials. It’s the I’m-concerned-for-my-kids look that he’s been sporting less and less nowadays but that had been a constant companion during their first couple of years. 

The voice on the phone reels Namjoon back in from his observations, enough to catch the relieved “Good morning, Mrs. Kang”. It’s enough to let Namjoon know that the situation is very serious but hasn’t quite reached catastrophic levels yet. Mrs. Kang is their lawyer, not their emergency response unit. Mrs. Kang clears things up, does law research and manages their contract details. She’s not responsible for decisions concerning anything related to music or marketing or member conditions, so Namjoon manages to find some hope in the thought that all these things are not endangered. PDnim will take care of any new legal issues. We’ll be fine. 

Before he reroutes his full attention back to the words filtering through his phone, Namjoon takes a second to feel himself in the room - he thinks back to his therapist talking to him about unsettling situations and anxiety. Just ground yourself in the sounds and in the feeling of your body in the room - against the chair, against the floor, wherever you are. Feel the air around you and breathe in and out. What is near you? Feel it. Focus on that rather than the anxiety inside. Namjoon breathes in and for a second, he wishes he had Jungkook’s sense of smell because the office scent in his own nose is rather weak. He does smell Sihyuk’s perfume and the lingering residue of his own cologne on the soft collar of his coat. He feels the chair’s armrests that enclose his hips and the way his shoes line up perfectly with the floor. And most importantly, he feels Jimin pawing at his ankles in an eager attempt to be scooped up and cuddled, probably. It forces a pleasant smile on Namjoon’s face that he welcomes - as if the little leopard cub has managed to shush his anxiety completely. Rightfully so, Namjoon thinks as he grabs Jimin’s tiny body, legs and arms flailing around cutely in the air, tail curling around Namjoon’s wrist. Jimin’s eyes are wide and blue and just like a little plushie’s - big enough to stand out from the rest of his body proportions and big enough to lower your defenses to attack you with cuteness. Namjoon sets his dongsaeng down on his lap before picking up the call again only to realize that he hadn’t even responded last time - so now, the robot voice is tirelessly repeating the same menu choices as before.

“-mation we have gathered about Park Jimin, press 3 to apply for a regular membership or a VIP membership, press 5 to request medical or legal support, press 7 to be connected to our Shifter and Hybrid Needs network or press 9 for other issues.”

When his mind registers the options presented to him, Namjoon doesn’t know what to think. In all honesty, those options sound nothing like his paranoia had suggested to him before - it sounds like normal customer service and that bothers Namjoon because this is a magical number that Jackson had given him… right? To be honest, Namjoon doesn’t know what a phone call with a magical number should sound like, if there’s any sample he could go by - is there any K-drama he could watch that is even halfway accurate with these magical things? Maybe he should text Jackson later.

“H-Hi,” he cringes at how shaky his own voice sounds, “w-who am I talking to?”

“Forgive my manners, Namjoon-ssi. I am your automated call agent today. Our office staff is currently not available to take your call-“

It’s so strange. Namjoon has never encountered any automated call agent that responds to his voice, or rather, his words. Normally, those things present the options menu, wait for the number he presses, and react accordingly. He’s slightly confused by how this call goes right now and Jimin whines when the big fingers in the fur on his back still. Namjoon goes back to gently stroking the cub’s fur and frowns. What if this is not a normal machine?

“Are-are you an AI? Or are you a new kind of technology somehow?”

“I am an AMI, Namjoon-ssi, designed specifically to accommodate our many clients’ needs individually.” 

An AMI. He isn’t sure if that name was given on purpose, if that is part of the message that the other side wants to transmit - an AMI? Like, ARMY? Is it meant to… be a joke? A threat maybe? Does the female robot voice introduce itself (herself?) as AMI to everyone or just him? Namjoon’s brows are furrowed and he really doesn’t know what to think, only that wilder ideas arise the more he keeps thinking, so maybe he should stop. What if- what if this is not really a robot voice but an actual ARMY that uses some sort of voice contortion device? What if this is a Sasaeng? Alarm bells ring in Namjoon’s head. He isn’t sure whether that’s possible, whether this is a valid idea, but in the handful of years he’s been an idol, he’s learned that the world is crazy. Anything is possible, especially in BTS. He brushes his fingers through Jimin’s soft fur, letting the tail drag through his hands, relishes in the warmth under the fuzz and risks a look at Sihyuk, who is still talking to their lawyer. 

“There’s no sense in waiting longer, you’re right. Is there anything you can do to activate the contract clause faster?” and then, “Yeah, same as last time.”

Namjoon sits up a little straighter. A contract clause? What does he mean by that? What kind of contract clause - he sucks in a breath. Does BangPdnim - did he plan this somehow? Was he prepared for this kind of thing to happen? Also, same as last time? Has he done this before? Is there… maybe someone else like Jimin? Another shifter in the group? Wouldn’t Jackson have mentioned that? His thoughts swirl and Namjoon feels like he’s falling through his chair, into the ground, like there’s an endless bottom opening up underneath him. Like his world changes and all his breathing exercises from before have been completely useless. Once again, the voice - AMI - pulls him back into reality. He breathes unevenly and finds Jimin’s eyes. Innocent. Unknowing. Trusting. Namjoon’s heart pounds. It aches from his yearning to take care of Jimin well. To protect him.

“May I ask you to choose from the options, Namjoon-ssi. Main menu. Press 1 to access-“

“AMI, how can I change Jimin back? Is there anything I can give him? Maybe medication, or something?”

It’s a rushed question, a question tasting like panic and helplessness. Namjoon doesn’t know what’s going on, it scares him, and he needs to find a solution. If there is even the tiniest possibility of Jimin’s contract being changed up now that he is like this, and Jimin being at a disadvantage because of it, Namjoon will make sure to make it right. He shivers because normally, he wouldn’t hesitate to ask for Sihyuk’s help, but now? It’s all messed up, he doesn’t know what’s happening and what he can do. He needs to come up with solutions, and fast.

“Shifting is a process induced by hormones, Namjoon-ssi. There is medication to trigger a shift either way but it will majorly affect hormone levels of the patient and is not recommended to be taken on a regular basis.”

“Is there any other way?”

“Would you classify this situation as an emergency?”

Namjoon thinks. He looks at Jimin, then at Sihyuk. Catches the mumbled “Can’t have that happen. No one can find out” from the CEO’s lips. Feels breathless, like endless shame is gnawing through his heart for even allowing the mere thought of Sihyuk doing anything that could harm the members. He wouldn’t. Right? Right? But right now, Namjoon can’t really judge the situation well. He doesn’t have all the information, doesn’t know what a contract clause could do in this case, what it would be for, he doesn’t know. He kind of wishes he had Hobi or Yoongi by his side right now, to help him make decisions but also to help him keep a clear head. It would certainly make things more bearable. It feels like he’s actually stepped into that alternative universe from their Heartbeat music video, where impossible things are the norm and magical creatures float around everywhere. He doesn’t understand.

“Yes, I would say so,” he breathes.

“Understood,” AMI replies promptly, “Emergency response team has been alerted. Estimated arrival in 5 minutes. Please prepare to assist the medical examination by-“

Namjoon rushes to yell into the phone, “What- NO! No, no, no! It’s not that kind of an emergency! Jimin is fine, please don’t, there’s no need-“

Sihyuk sends a worried look into his direction, but Namjoon ignores it.

“Emergency response team on standby. Please confirm your previous directive. Is this an emergency?”

“We don’t need medical attention. Jimin is fine.”

“Understood. Main menu. Please choose from the options. Press 1 to-“

His shoulders sag in relief but he feels annoyed that AMI has moved back to the main menu again without even leaving room for discussion. It beeps when Namjoon presses the 1, maybe because he actually wants to know what this AMI knows about Park Jimin, maybe because he really feels bad for making her read the main menu so often and maybe because he doesn’t know what to do and needs to kill time so Sihyuk can do this phone call together with him and maybe even because he doesn’t know if this is important or not. So, he waits for AMI’s voice with bated breath.

“1,” AMI enunciates, “general data regarding Park Jimin. Nationality: Korean. Date of birth: 1997, June 5th. Gender: female. Species: White -“

“Wait, no. That’s uh, you’ve got the wrong Park Jimin.”

AMI is talking about Park Jimin who Namjoon had first met on the set of the After School Club together with Eric Nam, and he releases a breath of relief - and loses Jimin, who takes the chance to start exploring. Like the little troublemaker his kitty alter ego is (not really a big surprise when you think about how human Jimin’s mind works), he jumps right up where he probably shouldn’t be - on the desk. The desk where documents lay, where electronic devices buzz and where little objects look interesting enough to trigger a little cat’s curiosity.

“I apologize, Namjoon-ssi,” AMI says, sounding a little confused with her robotic voice, “would you like to change Park Jimin’s profile?”

“No, no. It’s just the wrong one. There’s another Park Jimin.”

“I apologize, Namjoon-ssi,” AMI repeats and Namjoon figures it’s just how she’s programmed, “would you like to register a new profile?”

“I don’t want to register anything, I just want-“

“Main menu. Press 1 to access-“

He groans. And there she goes again. Namjoon shuffled on his seat nervously, ignoring the little growls from Jimin somewhere further away. He risks a side glance to Jimin and feels soft amusement riding up his face when the cub rolls around playing and nibbling on a small BT21 Cooky’s ears. But then he hears AMI talking, persistently repeating the main menu and Namjoon isn’t sure if he can go wrong by choosing any of the options so he just dares to ask questions. He hopes it won’t get him into trouble.

“You mentioned legal advice. Why would we need legal advice?”

“Currently, there is very little official legislation regarding the Shifter and Hybrid community in Korea. Our legal department’s services are free and extend toward every member of the Shifter and Hybrid community in Korea. We offer-“

“And what about medical support? What kind of medical support would Jimin need?”

“Our organization connects clients to a network of professional veterinarians from all over the nation. However, we have specific 24/7 on-call staff trained to assess and treat Shifters and Hybrids specifically. We also connect to therapists, nutritionists, and skin & fur care professionals if needed.”

Namjoon isn’t sure what that means, only that it actually sounds like robot lady is trying to sell them something now. Hadn’t she talked about a membership before? He feels his leg bounce impatiently. When will Sihyuk be done? Should I just wait for him? Maybe we should just discuss this before anything else-

“Namjoon-ssi, Park Jimin is currently ingesting Samsung printer ink, which can be very toxic for a leopard cub his age, please-“

As if hit by a sudden strike of lighting, Namjoon feels his body move on its own. His eyes shoot up, focusing immediately on his kitty dongsaeng playing with a dark little ink cartridge by the printer. His thumb smashes that end-call button before letting the phone collide with the table in an ugly crash. He lunges forward to grab Jimin from the desk.

“Jiminie! Don’t do that,” he scolds and feels terror spread at the sight of the little leopard wiggling in his grasp, ears drawn back in shock, cheeks and chest soaked in splashes of blue, magenta and yellow ink. “What are you thinking!”

The cub meows pitifully but doesn’t let his words match his actions with all the feisty squirming. Once again, he seeks out the help of his claws that definitely pierce Namjoon’s skin. With his concentration completely on Jimin - it’s honestly a relief that the call is over so that he can deal with one issue at the time - he jumps when Sihyuk suddenly yells a curse through the room.

“What is happening!? Namjoon-ah, what did you do?”

Namjoon whines. It’s not his fault Jimin is prone to get himself into situations like this - he’s too curious, too adventurous and too tiny for the world right now and apparently, he likes making a mess with colored liquids. The toothpaste had been harmless of course, so it wasn’t a big deal, but Namjoon can’t deny it doesn’t give him a half a heart attack looking at Jimin with those stains in his fur. He looks like a little rainbow-kitty somehow. If this wasn’t so serious, Namjoon would take photos. He knows Jimin would coo and laugh at this later and Taehyung would declare it authentic art.

“I’m sorry, hyung! I didn’t pay attention for a second and- do you have tissues?”

Sihyuk throws him a package of wet tissues from some shelf by the wall, but like Namjoon expects, it basically doesn’t do anything to get the ink out of the leopard’s fur. It doesn’t look like Jimin minds or like he even understands the fuss (he purrs when Namjoon rubs his body down), but the humans certainly do. Namjoon sinks back into his chair and sighs, one of his hands brushing through his own hair in an attempt to calm himself. It takes a second to just calm down from the pulsing shock, so he just lets Jimin play with his hands until the little leopard loses interest and starts nosing Namjoon’s belly, the pockets of Namjoon’s jeans, and puts his tiny paws on Namjoon’s thighs, looking up.

“How are you so tiny and still such a troublemaker, Jiminie?”

Jimin stays in his position for quite a bit as if he wants to say something but Namjoon doesn’t get the hint, doesn’t know what Jimin wants, and realizes AMI is still talking. By now, he considers just hanging up and calling Jackson. Or one of the hyungs. He could really use a hyung now, just a steady, calming presence next to him like in English interviews or Award Shows. Jimin, who still has his nose buried in Namjoon’s jeans (where his pockets are), whines. 

“What is it, baby, huh? What do you need?”

The little leopard only snuffles wetly along Namjoon’s pockets (which are empty) and when the rapper tries to grab the cat, Jimin hisses. But then he slips because he’s a clumsy little thing with only a short, shivering tail that doesn’t know how to balance the body attached to it and his paws lose grip on Namjoon’s thigh so he glides off the side. Luckily, Namjoon’s reflexes are quick enough to shoot after his dongsaeng and grab his leg so that he can lift the kitty back up his lap before anything can happen. (He pictures the scene like one of those Dads grabbing their kid falling from the couch in those Dad-compilations. It’s epic.) He yelps when Jimin’s tiny fangs sink into his hand. He receives a vicious hiss on top and feels betrayed.

“Jimin! Don’t bite me like that! I saved you. No need to be so ungrateful.”

But the cub doesn’t seem to feel grateful or repentant and continues his search for whatever it is he hopes to find in Namjoon’s pockets. It’s a tad irritating to be ignored like this when normally, Jimin is so thoughtful and kind.

“If you feel bratty like this, you can gladly spend the rest of our time back in the box.”

At this, Jimin does look up and for a second, Namjoon feels something spark in his chest. Did he understand that? Did he understand me?

“The box? Do you want to go back into the box? Maybe that’s not such a bad idea, huh? You could nap a bit and you’ll feel much better.”

He gets up slowly, trying to grab Jimin on the way, but the little cub struggles too much so that Namjoon has to set him down to not have his hands torn up.

“C’mon, baby. We’ll put you back until you feel better, huh?”

All his hope is crushed when Jimin avoids the box like it’s hell even if he seemed to like it so much before. Any attempt to shoo him near the box fails and after a couple of minutes chasing the kitty around, Namjoon gives up. He goes back to his chair, plopping down and watching as Jimin tapers off to run circles in front of the fish tank and eventually trods over to Sihyuk’s feet. That, in turn, has Namjoon on edge, because Sihyuk is busy and concentrated on the phone call and Jimin is tiny and Namjoon knows from experience how easy the cub is to overlook and almost step on. But the CEO smiles at Namjoon and gives him a thumbs up. He straightens up and stands with his feet planted firmly on the ground, not bouncing on the balls of his feet like he usually does when on the phone. When Jimin starts to roll around, making it his mission to catch Sihyuk’s shoelaces, the man chuckles fondly. It’s a relief and Namjoon can’t believe he thought Sihyuk would somehow maybe make a bad choice just because Jimin turned into a baby animal.

“Yes, please let me know what options we have,” the CEO says. “Thank you.”

Namjoon uses the minute of peace and quiet to send a text to Jackson.

> Hey man, what exactly is the number on the card for? Why do they call themselves an AMI? Is it the same as ARMY?

He doesn’t get an answer immediately, so he stares at the little 1 in their Kakao chat for as long as he can and sighs when he turns his phone back off. 

“Who are you trying to reach?” Sihyuk whispers, covering the microphone with his hand. 

“Jackson.”

“GOT7 has their promotions in Europe now, don’t be disappointed if he doesn’t text back quickly.”

Jimin seems to get tired of playing with Sihyuk’s shoelaces and goes back to doing his own tour of the office. His little tail quivers in excitement as he sniffs every corner and rolls around on the carpet. Every now and then, there’s a little squeak that Namjoon finds adorable and that he wishes he could save in his heart for bad days. Namjoon focuses back on Sihyuk’s phone call. He can already see the many meetings with managers and staff this change could potentially cause; meetings to accommodate Jimin’s needs and to make sure everything stays under wraps for as long as possible. Or, depending on the outcome of the phone call, (Namjoon has assured himself by now that it will not end in a cancellation of Jimin’s contract because Sihyuk would never let go of Jimin, who is basically one of his fifteen children), a new round of contract negotiations. For the entire group, possibly, depending on the details Mrs. Kang will present to them. Namjoon hopes they can find a beneficial solution for everyone.

Suddenly, a strange sound moves into his focus, persistently interrupting his strategic thoughts. Scratch, scratch, scratch. It’s a weird scratching, not like a scratch on skin or wood or maybe clothes. It sounds different, like fabric snagging on something sharp and being released and Namjoon turns his head to look for the origin of the sound. There’s something in the corner of his eye that rouses suspicion. Jimin. Jimin is kneading the carpet. Alarm bells ring in Namjoon’s mind immediately. Kneading, scratching, peeing. It’s an established pattern that he’s observed during the past days. So far, his success rate of removing Jimin from a place like this (aka. a place that’s not his litter box) and carrying him some other place (aka. the backyard) stands at a proud 80%. However, the memories of the other 20% spur him on and Namjoon is out of his chair faster than he can even think about a plan. 

Jimin startles at the sudden movement and jumps out of the way when the rapper tries to grab him. He’s much quicker than his tiny legs suggest and runs to hide behind the big pot that holds the pretty rosé-blossom tree by the wall that backs against the hallway. He probably thinks the big pot will hide him well until Namjoon shows up again, still aware of what’s at stake here (the carpet, Jimin’s new reputation, and both Namjoon’s and Sihyuk’s sanity). In a determined effort to keep Sihyuk’s office sanitary and welcoming, he sneaks up on the leopard. Hands grab air and Namjoon groans. When he turns around, he notices the little tail peeking out from below Sihyuk’s desk. 

The CEO by the window himself doesn’t seem to notice what’s going on and Namjoon kind of feels like he could have used AMI’s emergency team after all. This is the second, no third emergency of the day and maybe, okay just maybe, Namjoon thinks he might have done something bad in his previous life so that the universe thought it would be fair to make him his dongsaeng’s babysitter. Suddenly, a VIP membership sounds tempting… do they offer babysitter services?

“Jimin-ah,” he whispers, “I swear, if you even think about peeing under hyung’s desk…”

Namjoon approaches slowly. If anything, he figures he should approach the leopard in a smart way. He’s aware that he probably doesn’t have much time left before the cat’s urge to relieve itself becomes insurmountable, so he tells himself to get it all over with quickly. What’s the best way to get Park Jimin to do almost anything you want? Sweet-talk. Namjoon approaches slowly and kneels. Before him, he sees the paper bin underneath the desk, a ton of (neatly bound) cables and the wooden legs of the table. Crouching, he grabs around the garbage can, meeting an amused meow that almost sounds like he’s laughing. Again, Jimin flees before Namjoon can get a hold of him.

“Ah, come on Jimin-ah, my cutest, prettiest, loveliest dongsaeng,” he coaxes, “You were doing so good yesterday, kitten…”

But Jimin doesn’t come back. He just sits on the carpet, tauntingly close, with a lively glint in his eyes. Jimin is watching Namjoon and the rapper doesn’t fail to note the excitement that lets the cat’s tail whip around wildly. So this is a game to you, huh?

When suddenly two legs appear right next to Namjoon’s face, he yelps. His hand gets tangled in some cable on the floor. He slips and slams his head against the metal paper bin, making it fall and spill everywhere. A nasty burn hits his temple and when he reaches up to touch the skin there, the cable around his hand pulls taut. Namjoon’s bad luck is endless, apparently, because something tumbles and crashes upon the table. Sihyuk lets out a yelp. Like a miscalculated movement in the shower, a quick burst of water hits Namjoon from above. He shrieks, feeling the wetness settle and hopes Sihyuk didn’t have any important documents out on the table. He doesn’t pay attention, but he can feel Jimin watching him from the carpet with amused eyes. When he looks, the little leopard rolls around, looking the most Jimin-like ever - like he’s laughing so hard that he just has to throw his body against something.

“Namjoon-ah!” Sihyuk yells, albeit more urgent than angry, “where are you? Kim Namjoon!”

“I’m here,” Namjoon groans, still rubbing his forehead. He’s sure the spot’s gonna be blue tomorrow. Yoongi’s gonna have a good laugh for sure.

“Where is here?”

The rapper crawls out from underneath the table. He sees movement from the corner of his eye but focuses on Sihyuk.

“No, I’m talking to Kim Namjoon,” he says into the phone and looks up only to have his eyes widen with a really panicked look in them. He jumps up, pointing into the room. “Don’t let him pee in there! That Sakura tree is from the President!”

When Namjoon whips his head around, making a cascade of water fly everywhere, he finds Jimin not on the carpet like he’d assumed, but in the big plant pot along with the Japanese tree. Jimin is walking around the stem of the little tree like he’s got a monopoly on the spot. From the body language, Namjoon can tell that the cat is calm and relaxed. Ideal for business. Oh no.

“Yes, hyung!”

Namjoon runs like he hasn’t in a long time (the couple days that he’s been on this pseudo-vacation) and finally snatches an unassuming Jimin right out of the tree pot, hands grabbing for the cat with so much determination that he even scoops up some earth. He hears mewling. It doesn’t matter, nothing matters in this emergency, and Namjoon looks around, nerves strung high, adrenaline rushing. He frowns when he realizes that there’s no litter box over here in the office. That leaves him with only one option: A dash for the bathroom. 

Quickly, he runs to the door. There’s a moment of hesitation. He isn’t sure how he should hide Jimin from all the people in the building but considering that the bathrooms aren’t really far away, he hopes no one will cross his way. (Especially now that Jimin looks so violently colorful). A thought crosses his mind. What if Sejin is still outside? There’s a possibility that the manager has gone to his own office to get some work done while waiting but there’s also the possibility that he’s out there and springs up at the door opening and sees Jimin right away. It’s nothing I have control over, Namjoon reassures himself. He feels Jimin’s little cry in his heart and nods. Let’s go.

Stepping out into the hallway feels a bit like coming out of the shower - out of the cozy, safe warmth and into the frightening cold outside. When Jimin keeps wriggling, softly crowing his discomfort, Namjoon repositions him so that his hands won’t press on the leopard’s belly so much. He looks to the side and freezes. Sejin is on the sofa. Luckily, he’s got his eyes glued to his phone and doesn’t seem to have noticed Namjoon yet - and Namjoon is determined not to let it happen either. Before Jimin can make any loud sounds, Namjoon turns and runs. He does manage to run with Jimin in front of his torso so he isn’t visible from behind. Even if Sejin were to look after them, Jimin would be out of view. Namjoon keeps his eyes on the hallway door until a yell comes from behind.

“Kim Namjoon! Wait up!”

Don’t stop, keep running, Namjoon tells himself, glad that the 6km are a result on his step counter every day, not Sejin’s. Sure, Sejin jogs and stays in shape but Namjoon dances and runs around and is much younger too, so he doesn’t even pant as he takes the next turn to the left and runs towards the men’s bathrooms. The door doesn’t budge when Namjoon uses the handle. A flare of adrenaline-induced panic drips down Namjoon’s chest and he wants to curse. He finds a sign that says “Out of order”. Great. Now, where to?

It’s a good thing that Namjoon is so familiar with the building. Practically, this is the building’s office level that BTS members don’t necessarily have to visit very often. But Namjoon is a regular guest in all kinds of offices, so he is not at a great disadvantage. He knows the way, knows a couple of bathrooms strewn all over the levels. It takes a few risks to bring Jimin there as fast as possible - Namjoon dodges people but almost knocks the head of the PR department off his feet as he rounds a corner and gets drenched in coffee. He runs on, apologizing with a quick but deep bow that almost makes him stumble, takes the stairs and finally, finally reaches the end of the next hallway, the men’s bathroom, an empty stall, and holds a trembling Jimin over the toilet. The leopard fusses, not liking the feeling of being held like this, in the air over an abyss of water. He whimpers. 

“C’mon Jiminie, look at me, I ran all the way over here for you,” he says, “give it some effort.”

It’s a moment of desperation but Namjoon feels warm inside (well, he’s sweating). He’s looking at Jimin and suddenly, he feels like he’s in a film, like he’s a Dad trying to potty-train his kid. Jimin shivers, ears flicking and turning constantly and even Namjoon’s gentle attempts to coax him into peeing don’t help. Those big blue eyes look like they’re gonna burst with tears at any moment. Can cats cry?

“You’re doing it wrong,” someone says behind him.

Namjoon jerks and swears he would have almost let Jimin drop. It’s Sejin and that means that Namjoon’s only got two options. Maybe Sejin knows what’s going on, maybe he doesn’t. In this moment, Namjoon doesn’t even let his fear of being discovered bubble up. He’s here to fix an issue, solve a problem, so he’s gotta get on with it. Sejin is on his side, so whatever happens, he’ll help. Namjoon is sure.

“Sorry,” Sejin says, breathing a little heavy as well, “just let him sit. Cats don’t like to be touched while peeing.”

Namjoon nods, suddenly feeling grateful that it’s Sejin who’s come after him. Sejin is the kind of hyung who just sees the need and helps, no matter what. There’s not a single occasion Namjoon can think of where Sejin has refused to help any member of the group. Of course, one could argue that it’s his job but Namjoon has seen people do their jobs and finds that Sejin is doing more than just a job - he’s taking care of Bangtan with passion and foresight, and sees their relationship as a way to install his substitute-Dad-wisdoms in them.

“He’s too small for the toilet though. He’ll fall in.”

“You need something like a litter box.”

Sejin moves around, drawing out a plastic container from below the sink. It’s a plastic container filled with wet tissues, deodorant the PR people keep in here for emergencies, and some excess paper towel rolls. Sejin fills it up with toilet paper and lets Namjoon place Jimin in it. Jimin circles the container, meows and finally seems satisfied. Namjoon looks away when the cub crouches. He doesn’t need to see that, cause it’s creepy, and rather turns his attention to Sejin.

“Not that I mind, but… why does your cat look like my three-year old’s drawings?”

Namjoon doesn’t know why but somehow, this question is so funny to him that he just starts to laugh - he laughs and laughs and when he’s done, he feels like somehow, a knot around his heart has loosened. He feels lighter than before and breathes. He’s tired but Sejin is here with him, and he knows it will be okay. Here on the cold tiles of the bathroom door, Namjoon finds a revelation coming to him. It approaches as he watches Sejin prepare the litter box for Jimin and unravels as Jimin joyfully runs a circle in it before crouching. It hits, however, in this moment of innocent glee, when Namjoon just enjoys the fact that their manager and friend is here with him. I’m not supposed to do this alone, Namjoon realizes, I was never meant to do it alone. He almost feels stupid that this feels like a revelation to him - he’s the leader of a seven-member group and still, his mind had automatically turned to selfie mode. But then again, he had felt so alone, this morning in the cold apartment, without any of the other members yelling around and sneaking Namjoon’s breakfast off his plate. His heart warms up as he watches Sejin smile at Jimin.

“Thanks for running after me and helping, hyung,” Namjoon says, grateful for the way the bathroom acoustics make it sound so much bigger, “I really appreciate it.”

Sejin smiles. “I’ll always help you, Namjoon-ah. Just let me know what I can do.”

There are some occurrences in life - sort of like déjà-vus - that make Namjoon hold his breath. Maybe it’s not that significant, but the way Sejin sounds like Seokjin almost makes Namjoon tear up right now. In his heart, he feels himself looking forward to the moment Seokjin’s banter echoes through their apartment again, the moment Namjoon steps through the door and looks into his hyung’s face. The moment Seokjin will hug him whether Namjoon wants to or not, and the moment he’ll feel his hyung breathe against his neck in a warm, friendly embrace. And the moment of relief, where Namjoon tells all the members what’s going on, where they talk over one another in an attempt to encourage Jimin and make him giggle in glee. It’s all gaining color and shape in Namjoon’s mind and with the image, hope and courage rise inside of him. Everything will be fine, and even with Jimin’s nagging self-doubt and perfectionism and whatnot, they will find a way. They will push the bad things away. Together.

“It’s great to have you on the team, hyung, seriously. I don’t know if I ever said this, but I’m really grateful for you.”

“Aw, cute. Why are you so sentimental all of a sudden?”

Namjoon shrugs, eyes turning back to Jimin so Sejin won’t see how mushy Namjoon feels inside, how much more he could say but won’t because he doesn’t want his hyung to suffocate under the avalanche of compliments and heartfelt emotions he’s still got in store. The right dosage is important, Namjoon-ah, he remembers Yoongi saying back in the dark, one shared night in their four-year-old studio chairs with takeout in their hands, don’t overwhelm people with your words. You’re too powerful with words sometimes, people don’t know what to do with it. It’s your superpower, so use it responsibly.

“I still don’t know why your cat looks like he’s just come back from a children’s birthday party.”

“PDnim tried to fix his own printer again. He left an ink cartridge on the desk and this little baby,” Namjoon pokes Jimin, who just meows, “was a bit too curious.”

“I don’t understand hyung. I told him he’s got an assistant for stuff like that.”

“He’s stubborn.”

“Yeah,” Sejin chuckles and they both watch how Jimin lifts one leg over the walls of the make-shift litter box, one after the other, very carefully. He catches on the rim with the last paw and lands on his snout with a soft thud. Following the momentum, he stumbles right into Namjoon’s shin and looks up wide-eyed like he can’t believe he just did that. Namjoon isn’t sure why he expects to see tears - probably because Tae is making him watch all those baby and toddler videos lately - but Jimin just whines, stands up and starts climbing Namjoon’s leg. 

“Aish, always so clumsy, baby,” Namjoon mumbles, cooing at the tiny cat in his arms. “You scared me, baby. I thought you hurt yourself. Are you okay?” He kisses Jimin on the head but lets him sniff at Sejin’s hands when he tries to. He doesn’t give much of a reaction, which is not necessarily bad - it’s not a rejection. Sejin smiles and scratches Jimin behind the ears. The cub purrs against Namjoon’s hand, happily closing his eyes.

“What’s going on?”

“Didn’t hyung fill you in already?”

“When? In the five seconds when you ran from me?”

“Good point. So, er-“ Namjoon takes a deep breath. There’s something about sitting on bathroom floors, something cold that makes you share your warmth and your inner thoughts, Namjoon thinks as he looks at Sejin. It’s a BigHit bathroom, so it’s clean, nothing like a public bathroom, but still - the floor under his feet makes him feel a bit bare, a bit lonely even if he’s not, and makes him want to not keep secrets.

“So, I uh… Well, Jimin, and I know it sounds er-strange, turned into a cat two days ago and I basically don’t know what I’m doing.”

Sejin does look surprised, looking back and forth between Jimin and Namjoon a couple times, as if he’s trying to figure out whether he’s become a victim to a prank or something.

“Are you serious?”

“I am. It’s not exactly… a great time but I’m glad this didn’t happen during our tour last year.”

“Wow. How are you so calm about this?”

“Well, I’ve had two days to come to terms with this now. But still, it’s a mess, hyung. I think I did well taking care of him so far, but it’s all a mess.”

“Remember when we first met, you and I?”

“Oh God,” Namjoon groans, “I don’t think I will ever forget that.”

“You were a mess back then too. So it’s okay, I can deal with a mess. I’m used to it,” the manager nudges Namjoon in the side with his elbow and Namjoon nods. It’s nice hearing that, and fitting, if Namjoon honestly thinks about their relationship. Yeah, Sejin has seen and has fixed messes left and right. Namjoon’s heart feels a little lighter when he hears those words. Jimin nuzzles into his hand in his lap and Namjoon feels a pang of affection travel through his body.

“Life is life, huh?”

It’s what Jimin and he have always been saying, ever since their first trip to LA. Life isn’t always fair, not always good, actually a lot less than good a lot of the time, but together, it’s not as bad and even great sometimes. Jimin curls into Namjoon’s lap, letting his body drop as if he’s too tired to hold it up much longer. He wants to be carried like the little maknae line member he is, starving for affection and attention.

“Should we go back?”

“What do we do with the litter box?”

“Do you have one at home?”

“Er, no. Jimin went outside for the past couple of days.”

“In the backyard!? Where people walk? Yah, Kim Namjoon! Also, think about your dongsaeng. That can’t be hygienic! Don’t tell me you really let Jimin outside every time he-“

Namjoon has to grin because of the scolding but blushes. “I’m sorry, hyung.”

“Well, that’s not allowed anymore. Do you at least have cat food or anything?”

“Not really. I promise I’ll work harder to be well prepared, hyung!”

“I see. Let’s drop off Jiminie and go cat-shopping. If he is a baby like this, we need to take care of him well, right?”

“Drop him off where?”

Sejin just pulls out his phone and dials a number. Namjoon can’t see the caller ID, but he doesn’t feel the need to ask either. When someone picks up and Sejin starts to rant, he sounds almost like a fake-enraged Seokjin. It’s like the familiar feeling replaces a little cavity-like hole in Namjoon’s heart that’s started to build the moment the members left for their vacations. It forces him to smile.

“Yoongi-yah, I’ve told you a dozen times not to bring your sick children to work.”

“Jimin is here?”

Sejin falters when the enthusiasm that breaks the mumble that is Yoongi’s work voice sounds through the speaker. Jimin squeaks suddenly, asking to be let down, so Namjoon lifts him up and makes him look right into his eyes. For a moment, he ignores that Jimin doesn’t understand and just hopes that his plea will get through. Namjoon tells the cub firmly not to create any trouble right now. Then, Yoongi speaks to him.

“Namjoon-ah, how are you holding up? Everything okay?”

“Honestly, hyung? It’s a mess. I’m a mess. Jimin is fine, but I don’t think I am.”

His thoughts fly back to the office. Sihyuk’s phone call with their lawyer, all that secretive talk about contracts and even the phone call with AMI. He remembers his confusion, his doubts, his fears - fears for Jimin, who innocently tries to climb up Sejin’s shins. There’s a rustle on the other side of the line that makes Namjoon’s heart beat suspiciously fast with some sort of anticipation. 

“Okay, stay where you are. Don’t worry, hyung is coming, hyung will take it from here.”

Sejin makes a face and Namjoon feels the exact same way. Baffled. What’s going on? What’s with the sudden rush of affection? 

“No need to baby me-“

“Oi, hyung is on his way, yeah? Where are you guys?”

“The bathroom by the PR department.”

Namjoon feels oddly confirmed. As if Yoongi’s sudden overbearing and sweet response was a wink from the universe. You’re not meant to do this alone, Namjoon. His stomach does a little jump at how much comfort Yoongi offers to him just by referring to himself as hyung (which Yoongi rarely does for him). Namjoon’s mind tells him that Yoongi will only baby him now that Taehyung and Jungkook are gone but in secret, behind really thick doors, Namjoon feels a tiny voice wishing for it to be a regular treatment. Namjoon has got Yoongi’s full hyung focus, even if he hasn’t explicitly asked for it. He knows that all the hyungs are attuned to the younger members’ needs but sometimes he forgets that he’s one of them. The leader position can be both a blessing and a curse. 

When Yoongi opens the bathroom door and steps in and Jimin pounces forward with a string of excited chirps, not letting himself get held down by anything or anyone, Namjoon’s eyes widen. Yoongi kneels, scooping up Jimin, totally enveloping the leopard baby against his chest.

“Did you miss me, baby? Ah, I bet you missed hyung so bad, huh? Aish, what did they do to you, hm? You’re all messy. Don’t worry, they’re all idiots who mean well. But hyung will take care of you now.”

Namjoon listens to Jimin’s sweet, chirpy responses that really sound like the kitty is trying to answer Yoongi. They look perfect together, Lil Meow Meow and the cub. Sejin seems to think the same because he’s sneakily taking pictures from the side. Namjoon makes the mistake of thinking that it’s all Yoongi is going to say. He doesn’t expect Yoongi to step forward and look right into his eyes even while Jimin keeps rubbing his cheeks against Yoongi’s heart.

“And how’s my other baby? Running around, destroying everything, coloring his dongsaeng? Tell hyung how to fix it, yeah?”

It’s the weirdest thing ever - Namjoon doesn’t know what exactly it is with Yoongi’s words (maybe it’s the way they float over to him like the steam over a cup of his favorite tea, like they aren’t meant to tease when you just allow yourself to feel them properly) but they make Namjoon’s composure crumble. His cheeks feel wet all of the sudden and he’s sniffing (not bawling, thank God) and leaning into Yoongi’s big hand cupping his cheek.

“It’s not your fault, hey,” Yoongi hushes him and he finds himself under the direct but tender attention of his hyung. “I wish you would have let me know that you needed me so I could come to help you out, you know. That’s what I’m here for.”

“You’re here to rap,” Namjoon sniffles, trying to swallow down his wild emotions.

“And yet I dance like a god.”

Namjoon snorts. 

“It’s not like I can only do one thing at a time, Namjoon-ah. I thought you knew that.”

“I’ll keep it in mind, hyung. Thank you for your support.”

Jimin begins nosing around Yoongi’s chest and arms now. Namjoon nudges Yoongi.

“Hyung, he’s been doing that since a while, what-?”

“He’s hungry. Did you bring any food?”

Wow. That makes so much sense. Jimin is hungry. How did I not understand that? It makes so much sense now that Namjoon knows what it means. 

“I-I brought shrimps.”

For some reason, Yoongi doesn’t look impressed or happy. 

“It’ll do,” he mumbles and moves to walk out of the bathroom. “Let’s go.”

“Manager-hyung and I thought we could go shopping in a bit, we wanted to leave Jimin with you. We’ll buy everything Jimin needs.”

“We could definitely need some cat equipment. Bring one of those fluffy little stick-thingies that cats like to play with. Those are fun.”

“Uh, sure,” Namjoon nods, absolutely not sure if a) he knows what Yoongi means, b) stores will have a “fluffy little stick-thingy that cats like to play with” or if c) a store employee will be able to translate the term for Namjoon. He’ll give it a try anyway. “I just need to get my jacket.”

“Maybe buy some rubbing alcohol as well.”

“What do you want with rubbing alcohol, hyung?”

“Clean this little baby. As much as the color explosion is cute, I doubt it’ll be good for him if he licks it up. Isn’t that right, Jiminie?”

Jiminie doesn’t respond. He’s fallen asleep, probably overwhelmed by the chaos around him. Namjoon feels slightly guilty for putting him through so much stress. Yoongi is obviously so much better at this. I should have just asked him to watch over Jimin. Namjoon knows that’s his own shadow talking, his disappointment at his own clumsiness that still haunts him sometimes. But it still feels like a real feeling, even if it’s a lie, and Namjoon’s shoulders sag at the sight of the little leopard breathing softly into Yoongi’s neck. 

Namjoon doesn’t say a word on their way back to the office and doesn’t even listen to Yoongi and Sejin discussing which cat toys and foods should be bought and how big their monthly budget should be for cat necessities. When the three of them enter Sihyuk’s office, it kind of looks a bit thrashed - Namjoon’s chair is on its side in the middle of the room (it must have toppled over when Namjoon had rushed to grab Jimin), there’s clearly a wet spot around Sihyuk’s desk, an even bigger mess underneath the table and a trail of earth leading from the Sakura plant to the door. Namjoon’s head threatens to hang even lower at the visible chaos (and the “oh wow, what happened here” that slips through Sejin’s lips) but Sihyuk’s voice cuts through his thoughts.

“Option 1. Let’s hear what you have.”

Namjoon’s brows furrow. How-? Is he on the phone with AMI? Then, curiosity rises. Will AMI tell Sihyuk the same as him?

“Option 1. Park Ji-” AMI pauses, almost as if she is thinking, “Good morning, Min Yoongi, Kim Sejin.”

Namjoon shivers. How does this supposedly automatic robot know who is in the room? How can they know? Maybe it’s this uncertainty that makes him feel so uneasy. Could it be that they are watching us? It sounds a little crazy in his mind, but he honestly doesn’t have a clue how else she would know. Maybe it’s magic. Namjoon sighs.

“Option 1. Park Jimin. Date of birth: 1997, June 5th. Gender: female; Nationality: Korean; Spe-“

“That’s not what I asked. Tell me what you have on my kid.”

Sihyuk sighs, visibly disgruntled with how this call is turning out. But the way he said my kid, it makes Namjoon grin fondly. Even if he’s not the person in question, he feels loved. Namjoon can’t help but smirk at how strictly Sihyuk deals with anything that has to do with the Bangtan Boys. Now that the CEO is on it, everything will be fine. AMI stays silent for a while, almost as if she is processing the request or gathering information or something.

“Option 1. Park Jimin. Date of birth: 1994, October, 13; Gender: male; Nationality: Korean; Species: Korean leopard; Genetic Expression: Dominant; Blood Type: A. Species warnings: strong predatory drive, exceptional senses and strength, possibly sensitive to aggressive behavior, solitary and nocturnal behavior; Species requirements: meat-based diet, extensive territory, regular physical exertion; Currently scheduled appointments: Physical Exam 1 by on-duty Shifter Staff of Seoul District.”

“Finally. Now, I would like to know how you have attained this load of information about Park Jimin and how you justify keeping it without our consent.”

“Sir, may I remind you that I am merely an AMI, and cannot substitute for your assigned customer client. I am however able to book an appointment for you with one of our staff…”

Yoongi makes a noise next to Namjoon. Even Sejin shuffles around on his feet. Namjoon feels slightly nauseous. He goes to sit down and Yoongi chooses to stand by his side, hand touching Namjoon’s neck, a soothing message of reassurance. Which is needed. This is a lot. A lot more than expected and somewhat scary, even in the face of 14 million wild Armys knowing more than is healthy about each member of BTS. As the information sinks in, Namjoon realizes that there are two options with this. Either, this is a terrible situation in which the robot lady and her organization are actually a threat, or they are a help and genuinely assist Jimin without any hidden agenda or contract. Heck, this would be so much easier as a commercial offer. Commercial offers are easy to deal with - you either accept, negotiate, or decline. BigHit gets hundreds of them every month, but this-? This is something else entirely.

“Who is your employer?”

“I apologize, Sihyuk-ssi. I am not authorized to communicate confidential information to clients.”

“I’m not your client.”

“Sir, please understand that the law requires for every shifter to be listed in our registry - which includes the scheduled check-ups and following classes-“

“Classes?”

“Sihyuk-ssi, we are required by law to ensure that every person in our registry knows their rights and understands their body. We are simply providing an educational tool to prevent diseases as well as help Shifters and Hybrids to live well. Our organization was founded with these goals in mind.”

“Let’s talk this through with our lawyer. I would like to make use of an appointment. For now, please do enter Park Jimin into your registry.”

“Very well. I will now propose a date for you with one of our customer service staff.”

“Sorry for making you wait,” Sihyuk says once he puts down his phone (he has to look for a good spot for a few seconds because there’s printer ink all over his desk). He looks into their faces. Namjoon can see how affected he is by this situation - a situation that turns tables and reshapes their group dynamics, possibly.

“Hey Yoongi,” he smiles. “Did you get the USB stick I sent you?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi nods, “I got it. What I’ve heard so far sounded great but I’ll look though it tomorrow. Thanks, PDnim.”

Sihyuk also greets Sejin but Namjoon doesn’t really listen anymore. He just wants to get the box and go home - no, right, he wanted to go shopping with Sejin. Namjoon is so tired. It’s like with a high-focus test where you hold up your concentration for so long but when it’s over, you feel your entire existence slack with exhaustion. He shifts in his chair.

Sihyuk’s eyes fall on Namjoon. “You okay?”

“No.”

“Namjoon, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but you’re probably overthinking.”

“Hyung, how are we supposed to have our comeback like this? I looked at the schedules, it’s soon. What if Jimin shifts in the middle of a concert? What if we can’t get him to shift back? Even this robot lady said there’s no medication. It’s impossible to be an artist like us when you turn into a cat like this. It’s impossible.”

“Okay, listen. This situation is not unfixable and not impossible to solve, Namjoon-ah. We can do anything.”

“We can’t do everything, hyung.”

“Did I or did I not set you up to meet Warren G before you were famous?”

Namjoon blushes. Right.

“You did.”

“I did. That was impossible, wasn’t it? You guys became global stars. That was impossible, wasn’t it? You guys are one of the greatest artists in history. That’s impossible too, isn’t it? Raise your standard. RM is impossible. This,” he points at Jimin, who slowly begins to stir against Yoongi’s throat, “it’s just a page in your story. We’ll get through it and it will be okay. Okay?”

Namjoon nods. His head bobs much heavier than usual, as if it suddenly weighs more. He hears Yoongi coo at Jimin and watches him boop the tired little cat’s nose. Then, as if he’s actually attuned to the cat’s thoughts, he reminds Namjoon to look for Jimin’s snacks. He pulls his jacket off the chair, grabs the little plastic bag (the little bag almost rips in his hands but Namjoon manages to just prevent the fourth emergency on the day - a pile of shrimp on his CEO’s office floor) and hands it over to Yoongi, who walks out with the sleepy leopard cub, leaving only Sihyuk, Sejin and Namjoon behind. To some, it might look like disrespect, especially in terms of Korean society rules, but in reality, it’s both an open display of trust towards Namjoon to fill him in on all the important details later, and a display of responsibility as a hyung who prioritizes taking care of his dongsaeng. Namjoon doesn’t care. His fingers smell gross. Like dried shrimp. There’s no sink. Focus, Namjoon. Focus just for a little bit. You’re an adult, behave like one. You can wash up and be tired later.

“Hyung, what does this phone call mean? Do we really have to register Jimin and all that?”

“Yes. We have to take them seriously. That organization does its work well.”

“But what is it that they do? I talked with AMI for at least ten minutes but I still don’t know who they are.”

“They are a government-funded agency who protects shifters and hybrids in different aspects. I only know that they dragged two entertainment companies to court because they had not registered a couple of their trainees. The court decided that it was mistreatment even if they were treated like everyone else.”

“Why?”

“Apparently, there are different laws for shifters and humans but I don’t know much about that yet. I’ll have to go through it with our lawyers.”

“But… if they are government-funded, how did I never hear of this? A court case with other entertainment companies, I’m sure that would have been on the news, right?”

“That was many years ago. I don’t know when this organization was founded, but they must have been working hard to protect every shifter since then.”

“I didn’t even know stuff like this existed…”

“Well, the community is rather small. People don’t talk about it and I’m sure many people don’t know that this stuff exists. As far as I know, most magical creatures are hiding the fact that they are magic. Even the organization runs secretly.”

“Hyung, isn’t that contradictory? How could they be part of the government if they run secretly?”

“I really don’t know much, but I think they aren’t part of the government… just consultants with a special status. And funded. I’m not sure how it works. But they execute laws, like registering shifters and hybrids.”

“Okay… so now Jimin is registered. What now?”

“I’ll take care of the contracts and you take care of Jimin.”

“Okay, I’ll ask Hobi what we can do about-“

“You can’t tell the members, Namjoon-ah.” 

Namjoon isn’t sure he’s heard right. All the mushiness and good warmth from before vanishes in a second. His heart actually skips a beat. He feels awfully cold and like he’s been electrocuted at once. At least it wakes him up. What!?

“What?”

“Don’t tell the members.”

“Why? Jimin will need all the support he can get and I don’t want him to feel any less loved than before. I know that all of the members will feel the same.”

There are a hundred issues lining up right now, but Namjoon knows that their biggest problem of all will be Jimin himself. Because in the end, Jimin’s soul is not a bird that nests easily in a new environment. Of the last eight years that Namjoon has spent by Jimin’s side, he’s witnessed the boy go from believing horrid lies about himself to starving himself like even his worst enemy wouldn’t do to him. Sure, Jimin has overcome these things, has found firm footing in the muddy path called identity. He’s come to love himself, riding on the wave of fresh wind that his brothers’ love is for him. Nonetheless, Namjoon can’t stop worrying about every new wave that comes crashing on the shore. Namjoon knows Jimin is particular about his body. Knows the boy is strategic and sometimes painfully pessimistic in his thoughts without even trying to be and prone to driving himself into feeling lonely. Jimin is so precious and Namjoon just wants to see him be happy. The possibility of the truth coming out to the public and at the wrong time almost hits Namjoon harder than he thinks it could hit Jimin. It resonates in his bones with an evil ache. To think that Jimin will face yet another challenge, that the look of desperation and anger might appear again in his eyes. And that Namjoon can’t help, can’t make it better. And even if Namjoon knows that it won’t be bad forever, that Jimin will get through this and feel better about it all someday but Namjoon just doesn’t know the price. And that hurts. But the members - the members should know. Because they won’t judge him. They will carry it all with him. 

“He won’t. Listen, I don’t want him to feel pressured by this. It’s a huge change for him and he will need some time to figure it all out. And especially now, with the comeback approaching, I want you all to be focused. I know you guys always work hard and you always do your best. But we all know how fragile such a preparation period before a comeback is and how quickly it can become oppressing if bad news hits.”

Namjoon’s mind wanders back to when he’d undergone surgery and the schedule had only allowed it at a time when their next comeback had been on the horizon already. Like a cloud flying overhead, Namjoon’s trip to the hospital and the slight (secret) complications had thrown a shadow over their preparations. Back then, it had definitely stressed the other members, even if their dance practices and recordings had all been on time and perfect. 

“Hyung, we’ve always got stuff going on. After the comeback, we have shows lining up, then the next tour and a hundred different events in between, like the Summer package, like mv shoots. There’s no better time to deal with this than right now. I can’t keep this a secret from the members and then expect them to be happy about it when I tell them later. They deserve to know.”

“I’m sorry, Namjoon. As long as the contracts aren’t renewed…”

“Hyung, I can’t accept that. Jimin won’t do well with this secret. You know how he treats himself sometimes and how difficult changes are for him. Especially Hobi should know since they are roommates.”

“I trust Yoongi and you to be by Jimin’s side until everything is prepared.”

“What do you need to prepare?”

“Well, a change like this… needs to be reflected in his contract. If something happens, he needs to be secure. If there are any special needs he has, we will make sure to provide and help but it all needs to be written out in his contract first. We’ll have to check what laws are relevant for us and align ourselves with it. Until Jimin signs the new contract, I will make sure there will be as little pressure on him as possible. I want him to feel like nothing has changed, like he doesn’t have to feel bad or judged for what happens.”

“What if he shifts again and I’m not there, hyung? Or Suga-hyung? What if he’s left with the maknaes? They should know.”

Sihyuk swivels in his chair and stares at the window for a good minute before answering. Namjoon can hear the fish tank’s soft whirring. He wonders if one day, all this will be the next chapter in a film for Army. Or part of a song. Something to brag about. Because right now, it doesn’t feel that way - not glorious, not beautiful and definitely not comfortable. Sihyuk’s voice sounds quiet, as if he’s had to dig deep for his next words and hasn’t returned from the depths yet. 

 “You don’t know this because I never told you, Namjoon. But when our Park Jimin signed with us, his parents had one major condition. At first, I thought it would be about money, free time, or maybe dating. Actually, they asked me to sign a confidentiality agreement between me and them. I promised to never tell anyone including Jimin that he was a shifter, to treat him normally and to ensure that he would receive his medication - suppressants.”

“Hyung.”

Namjoon feels like someone has punched him in the gut. He can’t breathe somehow, but it’s like he doesn’t want to either. He never thought Sihyuk would do something like this. It’s so wrong, he doesn’t even know what to say. One look into Sihyuk’s eyes, however, makes Namjoon’s tumbling sea still. Sihyuk knows how wrong it is, to keep such a huge secret from Jimin, to restrict his personal… worldview like this. And he regrets it. Deeply.

“So you knew from the beginning. Did you never think that we deserved to know?”

“I wanted to tell you so bad, especially you, Namjoon. At least the leader should know, right? But that was the condition: I don’t talk. His parents said that there are traditions that needed to be followed and kept in their culture and I believed them and wanted to respect that. I wanted to keep my word.”

“But… Jimin’s parents didn’t tell him either, did they? He doesn’t know anything at all.”

“I believe so, yes.”

Namjoon sighs. That’s - crazy.

“We’ve always made sure Jimin received everything he needed to be in top condition as a normal human being. We constantly supervise his health as we do with all of you. Based on that, I kind of expected his body to build a resistance to the suppressants someday. It took a while until we had adjusted them well - do you remember when he lost so much weight?”

“That was because of the suppressants?”

“I almost canceled that stupid contract back then. Jimin shouldn’t have had to suffer through this - he should have known what was going on with his body, he had every right to.”

“Hyung, that’s horrible-“

“Yeah. He just blames it on that genetic disease his parents say runs in the family.”

“So there’s no genetic disease.”

"I mean, it’s one way to describe your genetic makeup. If you’re trying to suppress it, it probably feels like a disease.”

Namjoon nods. It’s understandable from a logical viewpoint. It’s inexcusable from an emotional one. Namjoon swears to himself that he will never call Jimin’s ability to shift a disease. Even if his parents had used that term to hide their shifter side, Namjoon will never allow anyone to call it that. He wants Jimin to feel like it’s a regular part of his identity, like he doesn’t have to feel bad about it.

“So… will that organization drag us to court? Because we didn’t register Jimin until now?”

“I hope not. I will definitely meet up with them and organize a meeting between all parties. Communication is key, so I’ll do my best to fix this. I apologize for causing such a mess but I still have to ask you to keep quiet about this until it’s all cleared up.”

Namjoon nods. He feels a little burnt out, a little defeated to be honest. How could this all be true? 

“May I leave, PDnim?”

“Of course. Please do put all your expenses for Jimin on my card.”

“Thank you, hyungnim.”

When Namjoon walks out, he hears Sihyuk talking to Sejin.

“Please tell our head of staff to give the cleaning staff a raise.”

masterlist | moodboard masterlist

[ prologue | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven ] tags: @xmagicxshopx, @taeshuworld, @justanemptydream, @hoodmeup, @gingerpeachtae  (wanna join? send me an ask!) ✨

[navalcriminalimagines]

Comfort zone - 2

Author's note: the first part was well received and I'm really happy about it!! I don't really know how many there will be but I love writing this series and many more ideas keep growing in my head 😊 I write a lot about panic attacks and anxiety in this series, because it's been one of my problems for years now and I want to express myself about it! If anyone is going through this and wants to talk about it, DM me anytime!! I know how lonely we can feel! ♥️

Tag list (if you want to be tag, just let me know!): @madpanda75 @zombz78

Once again that night, you slept at Rafael's. He gently offered his bed but you felt bad about him sleeping on his couch once more so you told him you don't mind him sleeping next to you. But the two of you were uncomfortable in bed, both on your back, staring at the ceiling and no one dare to move. The only thing you could here was his breath. "Thank you for everything, Rafael," you whispered, in case he was sleeping. "We barely know each other but you are here for me while no one else is," tears field your eyes. The truth was hard to accept. You used to have friends when you were with Jeff. At least, you thought they were friends but none of them called or texted to ask how you were doing.

"You are someone I appreciate, y/n, and that's what friends are for," he answered.

"That's the thing! Are we friends? I mean, we were just co-workers before-"

"Like I said, you and your squad changed me. You opened my heart, while I worked so hard to close it years ago. So yeah, if you want me to be your friend, I happily am," you stayed silent for a moment. It felt good to know Rafael is your friend. And he already proved you could count on him, day or night.

"So my friend won't mind to hold me?" you shyly asked and you heard him chuckle.

"Come over here," he opened his arms, and you rested your head on his chest. He kissed your hair and put his hand on your shoulder, he didn't want to touch you lower, in case you would feel embarrassed. "Try to get some rest, y/n,"

When you opened your eyes, it was still dark outside. You could hear Rafael slightly snoring above your head. You stayed there for a while, considering what to do. Leaving? Staying? Trying to fall back to sleep? You hated when you asked yourself too many questions, instead of appreciate the moment. It was a good thing at work but it ruined your personal life. You managed to controlled it with Jeff but the complicated, lost, anxious and scared young lady was coming back very quickly. It's been a few weeks since you considered taking your meds again. But you remembered the struggle it was to stop taking them. Plus, it was totally incompatible with being a detective.

You finally decided to surprise and thank Rafael with a really nice breakfast. It's been a long time since you didn't have a typical french breakfast. You looked on your phone for the nearest french bakery. It actually was almost half an hour from Rafael's place but you didn't care since it was only 5am. You brought a baguette (french bread), croissants, pain au chocolat (basically croissants with chocolat in it), some raspberry jam and coffee. You got back to the apartment, hoping that Rafael was still asleep but you saw the light in his bedroom. "Y/n?" You heard his sleepy voice. You walked to the bedroom, where he was still under the covers, slowly waking up. "Morning Rafael," you smiled.

"Morning," he mumbled, "where were you?"

"You'll see, but until I say you can, you are forbidden to step outside this room," you smiled and he chuckled.

"You know that's my apartment,"

"Yea but you don't want to get the best detective you've known mad, do you?"

Rafael stayed in his bed until you allowed him to come out of it. A large smile crossed his face when he saw all the food on the table and the smell from it was just intoxicating. He didn't controlled himself when he came close to you, hug you and kissed your temple, "You're the best," he said. You are breakfast silently. It would have been much easier if you were in love with Rafael, or just still in love with Jeff but you hated yourself for only wanting Sonny.

Everything was okay until you prepared coffee to go for you and Rafael. The lack of sleep and thinking of Sonny made you split the brown liquid all over your shirt. "Damnnit! What a dumbass y/n," you yelled at yourself. Rafael rushed at you and saw the disaster in his kitchen. He wanted to help you clean but you refused. He went to his bedroom and came back to the kitchen with one of his shirt. A pale pink. You wanted to refuse but the look on his face didn't let you the choice.

It was big for you but you tucked it in your black jeans. "You look great, don't worry,"

You drove him at his office and went to work. Everyone noticed it wasn't your shirt but they all guessed it was Jeff's. Except for Sonny. He shadowed Rafael for long enough to recognize that shirt. He got it weeks ago that you were closer to the ADA and your partner didn't appreciate it. But who was he to tell you something? You still had your engagement ring. Were you having an affair? He couldn't believe it. You told him once how faithful was important to you, you truly believed in it. You couldn't have break one of your principles for the lawyer. But doubts drove him crazy since you entered the precinct. You look like you didn't have much sleep last night. And you were awfully quiet.

Bored and full of questions, Sonny decided to bother you. At first it was just making faces at you but it didn't work. Then he played with his pen and changed the ink. Sonny threatened to shoot you with the ink. He didn't mean to but when he pressed, the ink split at your chest. The shirt. "Are you fucking serious, Carisi?" You yelled and rushed to the ladies room. Amanda gave Sonny an accusing look and he decided to follow. He knocked but came in before you told him to enter. You were in just your bra, trying to wash the Rafael's shirt with soap and cold water. You turned to see who came in and Sonny just stood there, literally frozen in place as he stares your chest or maybe your "underboob" tattoo. "What do you think- about turning around, Carisi?" You said and he came back to reality. He did turn his back at you and you continued to wash the shirt. The blue ink's stain just kept getting bigger and it was making you madder at yourself and your partner. Sonny could hear you swearing at yourself, he took a little look over his shoulder to see you desperately attempting to clean it. "I'm sorry y/n, I'll take it to the dry cleaner," he apologized.

"It's not mine, Carisi. I have to give it back tonight," you almost cried. You were desperately crying over a little - and not so bad - thing. What was wrong with you?

"Ya, to Barba," he bitterly said. He knew it. You sarcastically laughed between your cries.

"Yes, that's his. And it probably costs more than my rent and yours, reunited,"

"Don't worry, he won't be mad at his precious detective,"

His back was still turn at you but you turned the water off and moved to look at your partner. "A problem, Dominick?" You asked, wiping your tears.

"You changed, y/n. You are really close to Barba and now you're wearing one of his shirts. Did you spend the night with him?" He had to ask. He needed to know. But you couldn't see the look on his face. You let the shirt in the sink and put your blazer on, just enough to cover your torso. You walked in front of Sonny to look at him in the eyes.

"What if?" You simply said. He didn't answer, just took your hand in his and showing off your ring.

"I can't believe you cheated on Jeff. That's not you. That's not my partner. Unless you aren't the person you used to be," you stayed silent for a moment, considering to tell the truth. But it was too easy, and he has a girlfriend anyway. What would be the point to tell him you're in love with him? That Rafael is the only one that knows? That all of your mental issues from the past were coming back? Why would you?

"You don't know me, Carisi."

You grabbed Rafael's shirt and left Sonny alone in the ladies room. You rushed to your locker and luckily one of your NYPD shirt you use to workout was there and clean. You put in on. In the squadroom, Sonny looked miserable but it's better this way, isn't it? He is with someone and seems happy with her, why would you ruin that? But why would he care if you were dating Rafael? You felt your chest compressing, and you started to suffocate. You left the precinct before anyone noticed your panic attack. You drove to the only place you would be able to calm down.

Carmen let you in but informed you that Barba was in a mood. You knocked and heard him, "Carmen, I said no interruptions," he didn't raise his head to see who it was. But the silence distracted him. He didn't see anyone at first until he heard you heavily breathing, sitting on the floor against one of his books shelf. He put his pen down and stood up. As he came closer to you, he noticed you were nervously scratching his shirt. Your eyes were fixing an invisible point. He quickly went to Carmen and asked her for a big glass of cold water. Rafael sat next to you and brought you against his chest. "I'm here, y/n. You're not alone," he whispered. He understood that's what you needed. Someone to lean on. Someone to be here for you. Someone to love you. Just someone.

"I'm sorry," you cried. Carmen came in with the water, she gently asked if you needed something else, but Rafael said it's okay. He watched you drink the full glass. After many panic attacks when you were younger, you realized drinking cold water was helping to go through it.

Rafael patiently waited next to you until you were finally calmed. "Wanna talk about it?" He asked, his arm still around your shoulders.

"I ruined your shirt, I'm sorry," you answered.

"Please, tell me you didn't panic because of it?"

"No, no. It's not- about that," you reassured him.

You decided to tell Rafael about your conversation with Sonny. For the ADA, it obviously was jealousy but you were not buying it. You stayed in his office for a while until Sonny called to tell you, you have a job to do. Outside of the courthouse, your partner was standing against your car, waiting for you. "You didn't have to come all over here, I said I was on my way,"

"You're lucky I didn't say Liv you were with your boyfriend when she asked where you were,"

His ton was driving you crazy. Is this jealousy?

"I didn't ask you to cover me, Sonny," he shook his head in disbelief. What was happening to his partner and best friend?

"Great, next time I won't,"

No matter what how tense it was between the two of you, Sonny still opened to door of the car for you, just like always. The ride to arrest a suspect was long and silent. Both of your phones buzzed. You concluded it was his girlfriend, and Sonny concluded it was Rafael. The rest of the day was heavy. You and Sonny barely talked to each other, you spent your time with Fin, while Sonny was with Amanda. By the end of the day, a decision was made. You entered into Liv's office before she left to see her boy.

"Liv, I want to change my partner,"