#who has the fucking time. like tell me you’re unemployed without telling me youre unemployed lol

[but-the-desserts-were-okay]

dont you kids know how to have fun

[moemammon]

Hi there! I finally snapped and walked out of my shitty job after being there for almost 3 years, so could I please request the brothers reacting to the MC finally quitting their horrible job that they've been encouraging them to for months? Thank you!!! <3

Congrats on Quitting! (Feat. the Demon Bros)

(There's nothing like the sweet sweet release of leaving a shitty job, but it ain't an easy task. Good for you! 😤💪)

Lucifer

He's seen the way your job has been affecting you. The weary look in your eyes, the way your joints constantly ache, the dread on your face when you'd soon have to go into work. Trust him, he knows the feeling all too well.

Naturally he tried giving you that push to leave, but he knew he couldn't make the decision for you (as much as he wanted to). He’d just have to wait until you made the move yourself.

So when you DID? Oh, he was so relieved. He never doubted that you had it in you. Extremely proud of you for taking that leap of faith, and he won't let you regret it.

You're 👏 getting 👏 spoiled 👏

"Where would you like to have dinner? I'll make reservations at once." "...Why are you giving me that look? Obviously this calls for celebration. I won't be taking no for an answer."

Mammon

Even Mr. Money Bags himself knows that no amount of money is worth suffering over (uh, at least not suffering for three years straight)

He's been bugging you to quit for forever now. "If it's money ya need, I can introduce ya to way better jobs! There's this guy I know that can set ya up with something real nice-"

When you announce you've finally quit, he literally sweeps you off your feet and shouts for joy. Fucking FINALLY! He was getting worried, always seeing that gloomy look on your face.

And now? You're not gonna be spending much money. He's spending for you, buying whatever you need (and everything you don't need). You're unemployed, so let him spoil you!

"Nuh uh! Don't even THINK about bringin' your wallet with ya! Didn't I say I'd be payin' today?? Just worry about relaxing a little, and let The Great Mammon take care of everything' else!"

Levi

Working irl was never something that interested Levi, unless he was doing volunteer stuff at concerts and conventions. But seeing what you're going through? Yeah, that's exactly why he stays home.

He's tried to ease your nerves by inviting you over for games and tv, but there's only so much that Ruri-chan can do for an overworked human.

So the moment you announced leaving your dead-end job, he was over the moon! This obviously calls for a movie marathon night! He's got plenty of recommendations, but it's probably best if you pick, right?

Trying his best not to overwhelm you with his excitement, but he can't wait to start spending more time with you!

"Seriously? You finally quit?! That's... that's great! That means you'll be home all the time, and-! Er... if you wanna come over, my door's always open for you!"

Satan

Literally told you right away that you should quit. He's not so oblivious that he doesn't notice how you're being exploited.

You're a hard worker, and your worth was being taken advantage of. Why would he want to sit around and watch you wither away? It annoyed him to no end.

So he did all he could to convince you to leave, suggesting alternative career paths, mentioning he could help you find something, but only you could make that important decision.

And BOY was he thrilled when you decided to leave. He congratulated you immediately, then proceeded to let out every insult aimed toward your job that he’d been holding in this entire time.

"They weren't good enough for you, so I'm glad you've finally realized that. If you want, I could leave them with a 'parting gift' to show them just how much you loved your job? I can even whip up something special for your boss."

Asmo

All the days you had to suffer working at a place like that.. You always looked HAGGARD coming home, and he hated it!

But now that you've quit working at that terrible place? Asmo's gonna make up ever single day that you could've spent pampering yourself. Also tried convincing you to start an OnlyFans-

He'll make sure you're so relaxed and cared for, you'll completely forget about all the grief your job put you through. Work? Who's she??

Massages your shoulders while you tell him stories of all the shitty customers and coworkers you've had to deal with. Spill the tea, hun. Speaking of tea, do you want him to top off your glass for you?

"Ive been worried sick about you, you know! Instead of working, you ought to just stay home with me instead! I know plenty of ways to make money without having to leave the house, after all~"

Beel

He always tried making sure you ate well before you left for work, but it didn't seem to be enough to keep you from being worn out when you got back.

He even tried suggesting that you workout with him to relieve stress. But after a hard day at work, it's understandable that you didn't want to move much.

Beel wasn't the type to outright urge you to quit, since it's nice to have a way to earn money, but after seeing the metal toll it was taking....

He couldn't have been happier when you announced you'd finally quit. Like Lucifer, he immediately wants to celebrate! This calls for eating until you're about to burst! Do you want Madam Scream's? He'll get you a lifetime supply of blackberry cheesecake, too!

"Since you're finally free from that place, we'll be able to spend more time together. It's been lonely, not seeing you as often. The food tastes better when I enjoy it with you, so let's eat together from now on, okay?"

Belphie

Sometimes, you were such a hard worker that it exhausted Belphie to even look at you. But he knew you were only human, and your stamina wasn't as limitless as you tried to make it out to be.

You were growing weary, both physically and mentally, and he could tell from a mile away. Was it really worth all this hassle just to make a buck or two?

He certainly didn't think so, and tried to get you to see it from his point of view. Just find something easier to do that wouldn't wear you out, you know? Or be unemployed. You know his brothers won't let you stay broke-

You tell him that you've finally quit, and Belphie can't help but smile. He won't admit that he was getting worried for your health, but you can tell from the way his expression relaxes.

"The hard worker had finally joined the lazy side, huh? That means you'll be able to make up for all the lost sleep, and I think we should get started right away. No objections, no objections. Come here." ".....I missed holding you like this."

[from-a-reckless-writer]

Supercorp - 49 please

Jess has been with her ever since the beginning of time. It might sound like an exaggeration but it really isn't.

Jess was already assigned with her ever since she was the Junior VP of LuthorCorp's Research division back when Lionel was still alive.

And when Lex inevitably drove the whole company into ruin and forced Lena into the limelight as CEO, Jess remained by her side.

So, really, Lena couldn't refuse Jess's resignation letter when it came, finally telling Lena that she wants to expand her horizons. Lena was beyond happy to hear that Jess was interested in going to grad school and finishing her Master's that's been put on hold. At the same time though, she also doesn't know how to let her go. It might sound a little selfish to keep Jess all to herself, but Lena's sure she's going to die the moment, Jess leaves her office.

But of course, Lena let her go, with a hefty final pay and a promise that Jess always has a place with L-Corp.

So truthfully, she doesn't have a problem with Jess leaving, what she does have a problem with, though, is Jess's replacement.

Jess made sure to choose the best of the best from L-Corp's array of eager interns.

Which means Lena has to work with the smartest, kindest, most fucking beautiful intern to ever grace her office.

How inconvenient.

"I'm her boss," she snipes at Sam, for the nth time that night. It's been 6 months of this. Of Kara coming into her office and making Lena's shitty day, less shitty. Of Kara being the most caring person in Lena's life. Of Kara somehow making Lena eat three full meals a day and getting her to sleep on time. Of Kara making her fall and fall, deeper and deeper.

Of Lena trying hard to suppress every little feeling she has when it comes to Kara by whining about it to her friends.

It's been 6 months of this and now it's Christmas and Kara is looking more and more tempting as the evening passes.

"Right, because that hasn't happened before." Sam rolls her eyes. "I haven't seen you look at another woman this way ever, Lena."

"Again," Lena stresses. "I'm her boss. As in, she works for me. She answers calls for me and she arranged this goddamn Christmas party."

"Then fire her," Andrea deadpans, taking a sip from her champagne flute, arm casually wrapped around Sam.

"Mm. I second that idea." Of course, they're ganging up on her. That's their favorite past time--making Lena's love life a source of entertainment.

"Remind me why I'm even talking to the both of you?"

"Because, you've fallen in love for the first time in your life and you don't know what to do because you're emotionally constipated due to family issues and it's Christmas and Kara's standing right there and I'm pretty sure you want to pull her under the mistletoe and we're the only ones who can help," Sam impressively lets out all in one breath.

"I hate you."

"We love you too, Lena," Andrea automatically responds. "Now, go tell Kara she's now unemployed because you want to rail her for the rest of the night."

"You can do it, sweetie. We believe in you." Sam raises her glass in solidarity.

"The both of you should be ashamed of yourselves." Lena glares at the both of them. "Christ, railing..." she murmurs under her breath at the same time she looks up from her drink and into Kara's eyes across the ballroom floor. Kara gives her a small wave, picks up her champagne float as if to toast, Lena raises her drink in turn.

Kara smiles. Lena flushes.

She's going to blame it on the alcohol when Andrea starts to ask.

Kara is on the other side of the ballroom floor, chatting up one of Lena's tech and bioinformatics staff, Wilfred? Winslow?

Whatever his name is, but Kara doesn't seem to be paying any attention, Lena keeps catching her looking at where she is every 5 seconds.

"Lena, for the love of God, stop with the eye-fucking already. If you aren't going to woman up, I'm gonna get Kara over here myself."

Lena knows Sam isn't kidding with her threat. Sam raises her brow in that 'Well, what are you going to do about it?' way that she always does.

"Fire her and get it over with. I heard Cat Grant is hiring."

"Oh my god, you two! Stop it already, I am not going to fire her, and I am not going to break moral code and for the love of God, I DON'T WANT TO RAIL KARA DANVERS, OKAY?!"

She breathes in deep, her heart pounding from her little outburst. Sam's eyes is twice in size and Andrea's lips bitten in an attempt to hold everything in, her left brow twitching.

"What?" Lena grits. "Why are you looking at me like-"

"Ms. Luthor." Somebody taps her on the shoulder and Lena is confronted with the reason why her friends are completely silent all of a sudden.

"Kara," she whispers in horror.

"Uhm." Kara fidgets with the her dress. "I was wondering if I could take a moment of your time? I want to talk with you about something."

Lena clenches and unclenches her fist and tries to rein it in. Fuck, did Kara hear?

"Is it urgent?"

"Uhm yes, sort of," Kara mumbles. And then more nervously, "I promise, it'll be quick!"

"Alright," Lena acquiesces, heart running a mile a minute. She follows Kara and doesn't dare glance back at Sam and Andrea. She doesn't really want to hear what they have to say about the whole turn of events.

Kara leads them out into the empty balcony, National City gleaming brighter than ever before them.

The jazz notes of the holiday serenade from the ballroom fades out and becomes replaced with the soft quiet of the falling snow instead.

"What did you want to talk about, Kara?" Lena dares to ask, goosebumps running along her arm at the cold.

"I, uhm promise me you won't be angry after I tell you?" Kara says, almost a whisper, a plea.

What could be so bad that Kara looks so afraid at the moment?

"I promise, Kara." The words waiting on the tip of her tongue. Eager to give Kara whatever she needs.

"Okay, okay here it goes, okay," Kara mutters under her breath, hands wringing nervously, clearly itching to fiddle with her glasses.

"I want to leave L-Corp."

Lena's heart plummets.

"What?"

Kara steps forward, looks down at the ground and then back to her.

"I- I want to resign. I want to leave L-Corp. I've been thinking about it for a few months now, and I've finally made up my mind. I wanted you to know in advance. I'll be passing a formal letter to HR in January."

Kara's eyes are so blue under the moonlight and her words are chasing each other around in Lena's head. Kara wants to leave. Kara has been thinking about leaving for months.

And here Lena was, expecting her to stick around for forever.

"Why? I thought you were happy at L-Corp? What could possibly be the reason for you to want to leave?"

I thought you were happy with me?

Lena can't help it, the question comes out of her lips without her permission and she can't take it back.

She thought Kara was happy spending time with her, working with her.

But what Kara says next turns Lena's entire world upside down in a heartbeat.

"You," Kara answers.

Everything slows. Time stops and all Lena can see is Kara and only Kara.

"I want to leave. I need to leave. Because of you, Lena. I'm in love with you, Lena."

Lena's first thought is, Fucking hell Andrea and Sam are gonna insufferable after this. Her second being, KARA'S IN LOVE WITH ME, KARA'S IN LOVE WITH ME, KARA'S IN LOVE WI-

"I'm in love with you. And I think you feel something for me too," Kara utters softly.

"And, I also know how much you value L-Corp and how everybody perceives you and I don't want to start something between us, if it would cost you more than it would cost me," Kara tells her reverently, finally closing the gap and taking Lena's shaking hands into hers.

"Oh, God, Kara, I love you too. God, this is crazy, I love you too. I'm so in love with you."

Lena doesn't even feel the cold, all she feels is this crazy, dizzying rush of happiness at finally being able to say what she's been feeling. And to hear it said back to her.

God, is this what it feels like?

Kara is smiling so wide and it takes a moment for Lena to realize that she is, too. She's smiling so hard her cheeks are hurting.

"I really want to kiss you now."

"I really want you to kiss me now, too, Ka-"

She doesn't even get to finish.

Kara presses their lips together and Lena tastes the cinnamon of Kara's lip gloss, because of course, she's the kind of girl who would wear cinnamon chapstick for Christmas.

They're both smiling too hard to kiss properly for the first time.

Lena breaks away for a moment, only to kiss her again for the second time. This time, deeper, more passionate. 6 months of pent-up emotions and want and love.

"To be clear, you love me, you're not going to fire me and you don't want to rail me??"

"I am never going to let Andrea and Sam near you ever again."

prompts list here

[itoldsunset]

the more i sit on it the more it makes sense to me that 21-year-old teh is vastly different (yet in other ways, very much the same) from the 18-year-old teh who woke up at 4am to help oh-aew study, who tutored oh-aew, gave him all his books and flashcards, and gave up his spot for oh-aew. because high school teh had dreams and a vision, and college teh has been beaten down by the real world and is growing more frantic that that vision will never come true.

21-year-old oh-aew is doing AMAZING, found a major that he enjoys and is getting A's in, found a group of friends who get him, is independent and driving himself around the city in his new car, and becoming more comfortable with who he is. he no longer needs teh to help him get good grades. he no longer needs to ride in the back of teh's motorcycle to get around the city. he is living his best life. oh-aew is literally all the things you don't want to be around when you're a miserable mess of a human being.

meanwhile 21-year-old teh has not been cast for a single role, feels nothing but abandonment because he has one friend/mentor left at school since the other two graduated, is devoting all his time and energy into a career that looks like it will no longer pan out, had his one idol "abandon" this dream which makes him doubt even more whether he's actually on the right path, and worst of all cannot seem to perform his role as the lead actor in his mentor's play which probably feels like his last shot to prove himself.

teh at 21 has nothing to offer oh-aew in the way he did when they were 18, and he feels that and he hates it, because it reminds him of how much of a failure he thinks he is. he can barely compliment oh-aew for getting an A on his assignment. it wouldn't surprise me if oh-aew brings home good news like that all the time, meanwhile all teh has to offer is, "went to another casting, didn't get it again." it's lowkey another form of jealousy, not in the rivalry way like we saw in itsay, but a sadder, dejected kind of jealousy that makes you feel like you don't want to hear about their day and you wish they wouldn't ask you about yours. failure is alienating as hell.

so he keeps building distance between them which is something you do when the world moves on and you're stuck in a standstill, and it's a feeling i know because it was me avoiding my friends for a whole ass year while i was unemployed after getting laid off. there was a whole fucking year of my life that i barely even remember. there is an inexplicable pain of having to answer simple questions like "how are you?" or "what have you been up to lately?" when your career has gone to shit and you feel like you've accomplished nothing and are going nowhere in life, especially as the people around you are making moves and going places. it is especially harder when it's the people who love you, because as bad as it feels to know you're a failure, it's even worse if you let them see you that way too. teh sees oh-aew moving up in life while he keeps sinking further into the ground. and promise or no promise, there is a real insecurity that once you get found out for what a loser you are, the people in your life are gonna leave.

obviously none of that excuses the cheating because nothing does. but it explains how teh created so much distance between him and oh-aew in the first place, distance that led him to get as swept up with jai as he did. teh going to the plays alone? not really paying attention to oh-aew? taking oh-aew for granted? not out of character at all. makes a lot more sense now when i think about what an absolute wreck he is at this current stage in his life. he is absolutely broken and maybe you also have to have been that broken to recognize it. there are a lot of things they could have done to show it better [like for example, having teh narrate oh-aew's new changes was a missed opportunity to show, not tell the audience] but overall he's still very much the same teh, just in a much worse off place than he was in itsay.

the more i sit with it the more i realize p'meen and co have no mercy on the audience, so it makes sense ipytm is not meeting many of our expectations. it is very classic nadao to play with the audience's feelings, but they definitely went too far with the experimentation this time because after four days i still can't log on to twitter without seeing the backlash. and as much as people want to blame p'meen and the new team, p'boss and p'yong are producers on the show and i don't believe for a second they would green light this storyline if they had big misgivings about it. [p'yong is literally the reason we got a coming out scene with hoon in itsay, since it wasn't in the original script. they don't let anything fly by. so the lazy writing comments?? i don't buy it.]

nadao took a risk here that they could sucker punch the audience with episode three and still count on people to come back for some big reveal in episode four. they lost some folks, maybe more than expected, but i'm assuming they made the executive decision that whatever happens in the last two episodes is going to make up for the emotional damage of episode three, and i will wait and see if they were right.

[hoodieofholland]

hey love. I’m obsessed with mob!tom - could you write something where mob Tom and the reader have a really big fight and Tom says something that was really mean and reader storms out and doesn’t come back until late and night and Tom is super worried :) at the beginning angst and at the end fluff.

I actually asked other writers too to write this a while ago but nobody does it and I found your account now and I’m so in love with your writing you are super talented <3

Sorry if my English is not really good- it’s not my first language

A/n: dear anon, you were reading my mind! I was actually procrastinating with a draft of some angst with mob!tom for a while, and you just motivated me to write it again hahah im obsessed with mob!tom too btw, no shame on this lol. Thanks for requesting, hope you like it!

Masterlist Request/tell me your thoughts on this

Warnings bellow the cut!

Warnings: angst, language, mention of gun.

You throw your purse over the table as you storm inside the house, walking up to your room with a stern face, straightened back and confident steps, without saying a word. Tom watched you from behind, sighing as he knew what was about to come - you were pissed.

He followed you slowly, not wanting to hurry the fight that was about to come. He knew pretty well what he has done tonight, but wasn’t planning on apologize, as he was also sure he wasn’t wrong about it.

By the time he reached the main room, you were already in the closet, taking off your jewels and putting them inside their boxes. “Baby”, he called you, but you didn’t raise your head.

Your gesturing was obviously stating your humor - or the lack of it. You wasn’t being so careful with the expensive belongings, as you always made sure to be.

“Baby”, Tom tried again, sighing this time, “Can you at least tell me what the hell did I do?”

That was the breakpoint. You lifted your head to look at him sternly. “Seriously? You gonna really act like you don’t know?”

He snorts, running a hand through his brown curls. “I mean, I know. I just don’t get why you’re so upset about it”

You laugh humorless. “I’m upset ‘cause you fucking treated me like a doll, Tom. That’s why I’m upset about it!”

“What?”, he snapped, narrowing his eyes. “What the fuck, I just told that asshole of a waiter to get his shit together instead of eye-fucking you. For God’s sake, what’s wrong with that?”

"Well, maybe the fact that you made a scene in front of the manager because you were jealous?" You shout, shaking your hands. "Should I tell you the obvious fact that this man is probably fired now because of your speech?".

Tom was growing mad. He couldn't believe you were defending the guy who was flirting with you the whole dinner.

Turns out that what was supposed to be a calm and relaxing dinner quickly became something distasteful, as Tom took notice of the waiter that was serving your table that night looking at you with a dumb smile on his face the entire time. He could even see the guy talking to some other workers about you, staring at you like you were some kind of meal. So Tom did what he thought was right - he made it very clear that you were his girl and a employee shouldn't be looking at you like that.

"I don't give a single fuck if he's unemployed right now. He should take this as a lesson to not disrespect you or any other woman in his workplace", Tom said, undoing his tie and throwing it in anywhere in the wardrobe. He was tired and pissed with the whole situation - and, more important, with you, for making a big deal out of it.

"Disrespect me, or disrespect you, Tom?", you snap, eyes wide with anger. "Cause it didn't look like you were worried about me. Cause all I wanted was a peaceful dinner with my boyfriend, who actually never seems to be available to me, and you made it pretty hard for me to enjoy, just because you were mad for a guy possibly be flirting with your girl! Like I fucking belonged to you!"

"Oh, fuck off, y/n", he hissed, walking past the closet's door and going straight to the bathroom. "It's obvious I'd be pissed for the it too. You're my girl, and I don't think it's nice if other man look at you like that! Don't act like you've never done it too".

You followed him, yelling next. "Shit, you're unbelievable! What is it? Nobody can look at Tom Holland's girl? Because you're the great motherfucker mobster and I'm your fucking prize?"

Tom turned his body to glance at you again. He pointed a finger at you, eyes serious and penetrating. "I've never said it. That's not how I see this".

"Oh, really? So you care to explain me why do you keep doing that? We barely spend time together now, Tom, and when we finally get to have a nice night out, you make sure to state that I'm yours and that no other man can lay an eye on me", you sniff, unable to keep the cracked voice from coming out and show how upset you felt about it. "I don't like to feel that I'm waiting for you like a goddamn doll, Tom".

"Well, darling, I'm sorry if I'm not being enough, but that's how real world works", his voice is cold and he is avoiding looking into your eyes, his jaw clenched in a way that make it clear that he's not satisfied with the conversation's rumor. "I made it pretty clear when we first met that my job doesn't allow me to be here the entire time, so what the fuck do you expect me to do? Or do you think that this nice house and the maids, and all the fucking jewels I give you come for free? Tell me, y/n, what the hell you want from me?"

You watch his usually soft features whenever you were around turning into the one he used with his men. The veins in his neck visible, his pupils huge and thin lips trembling with anger. Tom has never spoken to you that way, and you could feel the pressure on your chest with the pain from his harsh words.

A couple of tears rolled down your cheeks and you were quick to rub them away with the back of your hand. Noticing the way you pressed your lips together lightly, Tom's face softened and he realized his posture and tone.

"I don't- I don't know, Tom", you say in a low, croaky voice. "Think I just wanted us to be a couple. I'm truly sorry if that's too much to ask you for".

His heart pained at your words and he took a few steps in your direction. "Darling, no, that's not what I-"

You stopped him, putting your arm in front of you and shaking your head. "No, that's exactly what you wanted to say. I don't know what I had in mind when we started dating, nor what I was thinking when I agreed to move in here, but I don't want to be between you and your job anymore".

He stared at you, unaware of what you were about to do, thinking about what to say. He didn't want to fight with you like that, but didn't want you to think that what you've said is true neither.

You walked past him and straight to the closet again, picking up your suitcase and grabbing a few clothes from the wardrobe. Tom watched you for a few seconds, startled, and then started to panic.

"What are you doing?"

You ignored him, trying to think what you'd possibly need to get to stay out tonight. You could get the rest of your things later, but right now you just wanted to get out of that house.

"Y/n, love, what are you doing?" He asked in desperation, reaching your arm and trying to pull you away from the wardrobe, but you just shrugged his touch off.

"What does it look like? I'm leaving, Tom! If you can't conciliate our relationship with your job, then I guess I have nothing to do here anymore". You say through gritted teeth.

"What?!" He breathed out. "Darling, you can't leave like-"

"Don't you fucking call me darling!"

Tom stops and stares at you, blinking. His mouth is agape, trying to get his thoughts together. You didn't stop packing, and when he saw the determination in your actions, he simply couldn't contain the anger growing on his chest.

"Know what? Go. Leave me! Get the fuck out of this house. I don't fucking care!" He yelled, and you jumped slightly at the sound of his guttural voice.

You wiped some of new tears and nodded once, not minding to get anything else as you closed your suitcase and walked out of the room, hands shaking from the emotions you were so hardly trying to refrain.

But before you could step out of the room and go down on the stairs, you turn around to see he stagnant at the same spot. "Fuck you, Tom. You can take all this damn jewelry. Take this, the clothes, and everything else you bought me. If I can't have you, these don't mean a single thing to me. I'm not a fucking doll, Tom".

You left, and he couldn't move for minutes straight.

*********

The night passed by and Tom didn't hear from you. He checked his phone more times than he liked to admit, but you didn't answer any calls, any messages. Nothing. He didn't even realize what time he fell asleep on the couch, waiting for some sort of sign from you, but in the morning, when he rolled out of it, his heart pounded in his chest at the realization that you were nowhere to be seen.

He asked Harrison, his best mate and the second person you most chatted with in the house, if he has seen you, but he didn't have anything. So Tom waited, trying to focus on his work for the morning and the evening, as he thought that maybe you just wanted some time to think clearer. He regretted saying those things to you already, knowing that none of that was true. Obviously he did care if you were there in the morning. He wanted to wake up with you by his side like every other day. It was all that mattered for him after all. Not the money, not the jewel, not the house. It all didn't make sense when you weren't there.

And he felt so sick thinking that you truly believed he was seeing you as a prize, as a doll that would stand beautifully waiting for him at the end of the day. He knew he should have persisted and said that you weren't right, that he loved you so much that he could take a bullet for you, right on his chest. He'd do anything for you, but didn't seem to know how to put that in words when it comes to a fight.

"Fuck!" He shouted when alone in his office, hands collapsing on the desk. It was past seven at night and he hadn't heard from you. A whole fucking day. He asked Harrison to send the men to look for you. He wouldn't force you coming back home, but he needed to be sure you were alright.

All the bad thoughts he could have were now successfully running through his mind and driving him nuts. He thought that maybe some rival mobster could have laid eyes on you, all by yourself, and tried to do something. You could be in serious danger right now, and Tom wouldn't forgive himself if that was the case.

He took a drink. He needed to clear his mind as time was passing by and his men didn't have any information about you. Your phone would be filled with unanswered calls from him, even voicemail telling you he was sorry and would do anything if you only called him back to say you were doing fine.

"Please, love, if you're listening to it... fuck, I'm so fucking sorry. I never intended to hurt you. I'm a dumbass, and you don't have to forgive me, but, please, just let me know you're fine and I'll give you your time. Just- please. I need to hear from you, y/n", he recorded, a drink on his hand and the other holding his phone firmly.

When it was 9pm, he decided he was going out to look for you himself. He just couldn't sit there waiting for a call or for his men do to something - he needed to take that pressure of his chest and no one was helping.

He took his gun, called Harrison and a few more man before heading to the living room.

"Alright, we have a few more places left" Tom started his instructions, while shoving his gun at the back of his trousers. "Harrison and I are going to her family's house. You two check in her old friend's place. Doesn't matter how far it is, I don't want you two to come back until you've looked through that fucking town-"

"Tom", Harrison cut him off, coughing a bit to get his attention. He was about to snap at him, when he followed his gaze.

And there you were, standing at the door frame in the living room, a confused expression on your face as you tried to understand what was going on in the middle of the room. Usually, Tom never had meetings in any other area than the conference room.

"What's going on?", you asked bluntly, and Tom releases a deep and relieved breath, so audible that you couldn't not take notice of.

"God, you're here", he breathed out, walking towards you in large steps. You were still mad, but also so confused with his reaction that you couldn't stop him from holding you tightly in his arms. "Fuck, darling, where were you?".

Besides his words being a bit harsh, his voice was soft and caring, worried if anything. He didn't let go of you first, kissing the top of your head for a long minute.

Harrison smiled a little seeing the both of you and dismissed the men out of the room, leaving the two of you alone.

"Sorry, you don't need to explain", Tom shook his head and pulled away to look at you. His eyes were bloodshot and tired, a dark circle around it. He brushed your cheeks with the pad of his thumb and furrowed. "Are you okay, though?"

"Yeah, I am- but what was going on?", you insisted.

Tom cupped your face on his hands, still not believing that you were there again. "I was so fucking worried. I thought that something was off, you didn't answer any of my messages or calls... I was heading to a drive with my men to look for you".

You blink a few times, startled that Tom was so concerned all this time.

"I was in a hotel room, actually", you chew in your lower lip, kind of ashamed that you put him through such a concern. "Needed to be alone for a time, so I turned my phone off".

Tom pressed his forehead against yours. "It doesn't matter anymore, darling. It was all my fault", his voice was croaky and you felt your heart pounding inside your chest. "I should never have said those things to you-"

"It's alright, Tom-"

"No, it's not", he shook his head. "Cause it was all lies. I do fucking care if you leave me. I wouldn't stand being away from you, my love. You're everything, everything. And you're right, I don't spend much time with you, and it eats me alive, cause that's what makes me happy, being around you. All I ever wanted was to make you happy, sweetheart. I'm so fucking sorry if I haven't shown you how much you mean to me..."

"Shhh, Tom", you closed your eyes, hugging him by the neck and bringing him closer. "It's okay, I know it. I wasn't thinking straight too, I know you don't treat me like that. I was just too pissed, and yeah, I'd like to spend more time together, but it's alright that you don't-"

He cut you by a sweet kiss pressed on your lips, "Nothing is more important for me than you. I was too mad with that thing in the restaurant to say it right away, but I'll try harder. I'm gonna be here with you, no matter what. Work can wait".

You sigh and pull him closer, breathing his comforting scent.

"My lovely girl", Tom sighs and smile a bit. "You scared the hell out of me".

"You deserved it, idiot" you said and he laughed quietly.

"I love you, darling", he stroked your back, hiding his face in the crock of your neck. "Always".

"Love you too, Tommy".

You spent the rest of the night together, having a nice and cozy dinner at home. Tom never smiled wider than that night, and the following others were fulfilled with his promise - there was always time in your day to spend alone with your boyfriend.

*******

Taglist:

@dreamy-clousds

@pinkrockstar19

@onyourgoddamnleft

@spideyspeaches

@miraclesoflove

@hollands-taste

@zspideyy

[peaceofflights]

Wonder Boy

Rated: T just to be safe. Yes it is based on “We Can Be Heroes” but it’s definitely not intended for kids (no surprise). 

Pairings: Miracle Guy x Reader

Warnings: Language, a lot of cursing. Use of the word god as a curse if you aren’t into that. References to sex. 

Word Count: 3,200

A/N: I wrote this because I realized I could only find one Miracle Guy x Reader fic and I kind of find that unacceptable. This is set before We Can Be Heroes which is why their kids aren’t mentioned. This isn’t beta read because I have no friends, you've been warned. 

If someone had told you three months ago that you’d be strutting around town in a pair of cowboy boots and Daisy Dukes with the fucking Miracle “Wonder Boy” Guy himself you’d have laughed in their face. But this wasn’t two months ago. And here you were ludicrous attire and all sitting in some shity ass diner with the unofficial Heroics man whore.

The job sounded great. Well… not great great, but when you’re in your twenties with no hospitality experience and a new apartment with rent more expensive than your car you’ll take anything. It’s not like you were clueless, you had a plan, well originally. No one is stupid enough to move across the country without some type of plan to make money. Living with your sister seemed like the obvious choice. She was responsible, reliable, and If she was able to get married and buy a house in California she must know what she’s doing. It all seemed to be working out until she told you her very exciting news, she’s pregnant. It’s not like she told you to leave, but you got the hint that maybe it was time to start looking elsewhere for somewhere to live. That’s how you ended up here. Barely six months into living in a new state, working at a country bar. God, do people in California even eat barbecue?

It was your second week on the job, first week working alone. Of course being the new kid meant that you got the worst shifts. Afternoons. Who the hell was coming to a bar at twelve in the afternoon? Losers and sad sacks, that's who. Depressed unemployed bastards that were hoping for any sort of human interaction, and creepy douchebags coming in on their lunch breaks hoping to see a little more than denim when you bent down to pick the old straw wrappers left on the floor. You’d put him in that category.

He walked in like he owned the place, tall, blonde, handsome, all the things you weren't looking for. Too much like your ex. The last thing you needed was another blonde with a god complex looking to “fix” your admittedly fucked up life. He was followed in by a shorter man, if only by a few inches. With skin a warm honey color and coiffed hair falling in front of his glasses he could have stopped a room if he came in on his own, however he hadn’t and was now following behind the other admittedly cocky looking individual.  

The room buzzed with a quiet murmur of whispers between employees and guests alike. The previously dead atmosphere was now filled with electricity. Damn, were you missing something? You knew you were new, but was there some type of spectacle you just didn’t get? No matter, if a man walks into a room with that kind of confidence he was either a big tipper or a pompous asshole, and you were about to find out.

“Hey darlin’”

And you got your answer.

Just smile, be nice. Flirt a little. Bat your eyes and hope for that great big tip.

“Wonder Boy.”

Fuck.

He scoffed, laughing a little and clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Actually it’s-”

“I don’t really care.” You smirked sarcastically. “Wonder Boy suits you fine.”

His friend laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. Damn he was handsome. The kind of person who doesn’t realize just how beautiful they are no matter how many times someone tells them. Wonder Boy on the other hand, he knew. Fuck he knew. He probably has never been turned down once in his life. He could probably spit on most girls and they’d say “thank you very much let’s do it again some time.”. It’s not like you couldn’t play that part. Giggle a little, laugh at his jokes and be handed that crisp fifty that’s probably worth more than the actual bill.  He probably kept it just waiting there in his wallet for a moment just like this, or maybe his underwear because man, was this guy into himself. But who were you kidding, you weren't gonna play that game. Brutal honesty ran too strongly in your DNA, and you had already spent one too many nights in the two weeks you’ve worked here flirting with sixty year old men who were too occupied staring at your tits than to look at your face. Really you were just helping him in the long run. If you didn’t teach him that women were people, who would?

“And what can I get for you dear?” You smiled warmly directly at his friend.

That did it. His face dropped for a moment, before replastering on his cocky grin.

“So what’s a pretty girl like you working here for?”

“Money.”

“Hilarious.”

He smiled before putting his hand lightly over left arm that was leaning on the table. You put on your best seductive grin, batty your eyes before answering. “Oh I know, practically a comedian.”

“Oh really? Why don’t you give me your number so I can put that statement to test.”

This was your moment to lose. You leaned your body in close to the table before whispering in his ear, “No.”.

His smile immediately dropped, instantly replaced by a face of confusion. He leaned back in his chair laughing awkwardly shaking his head at you as if you were kidding. However, before he could ask you any questions you responded to what you imagined was running through his head.

“Because women don’t want to be hit on at their place of employment. Which you would have known if you didn’t have the ego of a prized stallion and took the hint when you sat down. “

Well so much for that tip.

*

*

*

You were right. He tipped you two dollars, on a fifty-three dollar meal! Fucking asshole. When he walked away his friend sweetly slipped a ten into your hand claiming his friend had just never been turned down before. No surprise there. So a week later when the pair turned up at the bar, to say you were surprised would be an understatement, you were fucking flabbergasted.

You hadn’t noticed the two walk in right away until your coworker Kelly loudly whispered that Miracle Guy was at their bar. Who? She attempted to sigh at you but her excitement made it come out as a breathy giggle. You petted the mousy blonde’s head attempting to calm her down, about to tell her she could wait on the guy when you heard a familiar voice.

“Hey darlin’, I was hoping you were working today.”

My god that man was exhausting. You swore he was going to be the death of you, and after your previous encounter you figured it would be the last. You felt like you were going to go insane, however regardless you put on a brave face and turned around to address him.

“Wonder Boy, oh good you’re back.” You emphasised sarcastically, waving in unenthused jazz hands for good measure. “My section is that front left corner, so if you choose to sit anywhere else you won’t have to deal with my snarking comments.”

“You know Miracle Guy?” She whispered in a voice you assumed she thought was a subtitle tone. You weren’t about to explain to her it wasn’t and he and his friend could very clearly hear her. She was nice, if not a little ditzy. Honestly, it just gave you more questions than answers anyway. Who was Miracle Guy and why was he a big fucking deal? Ignoring her excitement you decided playing it nonchalant was the best move here. And by nonchalant, really more annoyed and dismissive.

“Yeah, he was here last week. He ordered the spare ribs. He’s kind of an a-” You turned as you talked to her, only to him sitting in your section a smirk on his face and his hand waving oh so dramatically at you. Game on buddy.

*

*

*

“Aren’t you concerned that your red meat intake is going to lead to heart disease?”  

“Aren’t you concerned that you haven’t had a day off in two weeks?”

You two had been playing this game every day for weeks now, man this guy even came in on his days off. Marcus, whom you had learned his name, stopped coming after the first week of everyday constant bickering. Leaving you and Miracle Guy (something you refused to call him) to duke it out on your own. It was almost fun, something you would of course never tell him. Now that he learned to give a decent tip you looked forward to seeing the hotshot blonde every day. It was almost like having a friend, something you relied on.

“If you must know I picked up a few extra shifts. Not everyone is a millionaire superhero who can afford to eat at this fine dining establishment everyday.”

Your comment through him off guard forcing the laughter came out of his mouth in one strong blow. Taking not only the oxygen from his lunges with it, but also a wapping mouthful of silvia that got shot across the table like a model rocket. His laughter refused to subside as his intake of air was canceled by a generous amount of coughing.

You looked around the room for something to give him, but ultimately ended patting him on the back in a motion you knew was in fact not helping.

“You need to stop making me laugh when I’m trying to breathe, that’s just common courtesy.”

“Damn you’re right, I won’t speak anymore.”

He flopped onto the table dramatically, letting his arms reach the end purposely avoiding his drink. “Thank god! Finally some peace and quiet.”

You smiled and rolled your eyes, settling into the light atmosphere. This had become your new normal, and you were okay with that. It was easy, lighthearted, and made working at a dive bar just a bit more bearable.

“Go out with me.”

The whole room went black, and for the first time you didn’t know what to say. In fact you couldn’t say anything. Your mouth felt drying and unusable. You stood there staring at him for a minute, maybe ten you weren't sure. Finally as the swirls behind your eyes began to fade you swallowed the lump in your throat. You paused after you began to speak realising that nothing was coming out. It was now or never. You closed your eyes counting to ten in your head before you answered.

“No”

“Okay, wait what?”

For the first time since he had walked into your bar you saw his facade crack. No longer confident Wonder Boy with a fake puppy dog pout. Or even the hotshot Miracle Guy with smugness written across his face just waiting to unleash his next comeback. It was like the first day relived, but ultimately worse. What did you do? You knew you were known for putting your foot in your mouth, but never have you told a flat out lie. To who? Miracle? Yourself? You had to fix this, you had to say something to fix this situation. Any was better than this. You just had to tell him the truth, after all it was your distinct quality. For better or for worse you were brutally honest.

“You’re a great guy Miracle, honestly you are. I know there are a ton of girls that want to go out with you.” The room went black. “they just aren’t me.”

Looks like there’s a first time for everything.

*

*

*

The weeks seemed to pass by slowing. Everyday in the same skimpy uniform waiting for your shift to end. You’d love to say that the job had just gotten more dull, but that was a lie. You knew exactly what was missing, and it just so happened to be a cocky blonde with a shit eating grin.

Working with Jack was nice. He was funny, approachable, and everyone seemed to like him. Unlike Kelly, he had a good head on his shoulders. However, if there was one thing to know about him, and was that Jack spoke his mind. All. The. Time. It didn’t matter who he was speaking to or who he was around, he would be telling it like it is.

“Hey, your hot regular is back.”

Your head whipped around so fast only too see fucking Marcus Moreno walking in the front door. Of course you liked Marcus, really you did,  but he wasn't who you were hoping to see.

“That man is so fine.”

“Jack!”

“You should shoot your shot before some else does.”

You ran over to slap him in the arm. However, despite wincing he couldn’t stop laughing at you.

“All i’m saying is that you couldn’t stop talking about how cute he was after the first time he came here. And clearly he’s not back for the food, I mean if you play your cards right he might be eating something later.” He stopped to grab a notebook from your hands that you were about to hit him with before continuing. “You know what we say around here, save a horse, ride a cowboy. If you aren’t going to let me take a turn, it’s a crime to waste that fine ass.”

Before you could probably scold him, he gave you a wink and shoved in Marcus’ direction.

“Hey Marcus, what can I get for you?”

“He misses you.”

It would be so simple to pretend didn’t know who he was talking about. You could play dumb and end this conversation just as quickly as it began. It would be easy and guarantee you being home in an hour watching endless reality reruns with your dog, eating slightly freezer burnt ice cream.

“Marcus-”

“I don’t know what you said to him, but it really broke him. He’s been quiet, and you and I both know that’s not normal for him. I asked him to lay low on a mission the other day, and he did it. Miracle, “Mr. My Face is On Toothpaste”-”

“Yeah I can’t believe I missed that.”

Despite the serious situation he let out a snort, running his fingers uncomfortably through his hair. “I think you’re the first person I’ve met in months that didn’t already know exactly who I was.” He gulped. “And I think that’s the point. Miracle has never had a woman not falling at his feet when he’s shown the slightest interest.”

“So what? You want me to apologize?”

Your fight or flight response seemed to be kicking in. Because you couldn’t exactly walk away right now you instead relied on your second instinct, defensiveness.

“No, I’m not asking you to apologize. Let’s face it you could do a lot better than Miracle.”

“Tell me about it.”

“No, seriously. You’re smart, funny, you could do a lot better than him. But I’ve never seen him like this about anyone. By just coming to see you everyday he’s become a lot less of an asshole, and for a while I was genuinely concerned that would never be possible.”

It seemed like he was gearing up for an uplifting speech. It was no surprise that he was the Team Leader of the Heroics; he seemed like the type that gave them a lot, but you weren’t in the mood to hear it.

“Look Marcus I’m really not-”

“I’m not asking you to apologize. But whatever you said to him I was hoping maybe you might want to reconsider.”

Man this guy was smart.

“You already know what happened don’t you?”

“I’ve pieced some of it together.” But the look on his face said it all. He knew everything.

“He’s been hanging out at that diner a couple blocks down in case you were interested.”

Team leader was good.

*

*

*

And that’s how you found yourself at a sketchy diner at half past eleven dressed like a cowgirl from a 1970’s PlayBoy. He was sitting in a booth in the furthest corner of the restaurant, dressed in a black t-shirt. He had a chocolate milkshake in front of him that seemed water down like it had been sitting for a long time, but was still completely filled. His normally clean shaven face was replaced by the beginnings of a mustache.

“So is shitty dining establishments just your thing then?”

“You look good like that. Nice to see this uniform in fluorescent lighting.”

His tone was light and carefree, but you couldn’t help but notice how his smile didn’t meet his eyes. He looked fine, good even. You didn’t know what you were expecting, him to be a crying mess? It almost hurt that he wasn’t. If you didn’t look too hard he was the exact same Miracle Guy dreamily smiling on all the billboards and magazines… not that you had been looking at them. But he wasn’t. Marcus said that he was different because of you, and the way his eyes no longer sparkled made you hope that was true. Maybe you hadn’t missed your chance.

“Marcus came into my bar today.”

You figured that the best choice was to just be honest. Tell him how you felt. You tried to plan out what you were going to say to him during the three block walk over, but in this moment you didn’t seem to remember any of it.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. He’s not into dudes right? Because I think my coworker is totally into him- you know what it’s unimportant. He said something and I wanted to know if it was true.”

You waited for him to answer, say something, but he didn’t. So you decided to just ask. “He said that you’ve been different since you met me, is that true?”

He nervously fixed his hair. You’ve noticed over the past couple months that he doesn’t run his fingers through it like Marcus does when he’s anxious, he fixes it. Afraid to be seen with anything out of place, afraid to let his guard down or his facade drop.

“I don’t know what answer you’re looking for. Am I supposed to say yes? Is this some type of test where I answer correctly and then you slap me anyway?”

“Will you go out with me?”

You did it. You were on cloud fucking nine. It’s like the world was shitting rainbows and unicorns just for you. All he had to do was say the word and the moment you’ve been replaying trying to fix in your head for weeks would be complete.

“No.”

Wait.

What?

What the actually fuck?

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m just kidding. Not so nice when someone does it to you now is it?”

You hated him. You actually fucking hated him. But as you scooted in next to him in the booth you knew everything was going to be okay. He gently started to pet your hair as you put your head on his shoulder. This is the moment you had been waiting for.

“You are the worst, I hope you know that.” The words may be harsh, but you both knew there was no real venom behind them. As he softly pulled your chin up to look at him you smiled. “I missed you Wonder Boy.”

“So how does this work, do I lean in first? Do you lean in first?”

“I thought you were supposed to be good at this?”

“I mean I am, but if this is my only chance with you I don’t want to screw it up. I can take my pants off now if you think it’ll be easier.”

Oh god. What had you gotten yourself into?

[izzyfandoms]

Lies Have Never Tasted So Sweet

SHIP: Emceit

CHARACTERS: Emile Picani, Janus Sanders and Remus Sanders

WARNING: Lying, mild sexual implications from Remus, swearing

GENERAL TAGLIST: @quillfics42 @aj-draws @phantomofthesanderssides @phlying-squirrel @sly-is-my-name-loving-is-my-game @because-were-fam-ily @imtryingthisout @a-creepycookie @emo-disaster @littlestr @spooky-scary-virgil @fuyel @mimsidoodles @soupgremlin @aroaceagenderfluid @birdsbookshiddeninrealbirdsskin @quirkalurk @gingers-trashy-stuff @iinyxtello @justaqueercactus @melodiread @mrbubbajones @glassferns @pun-master-logan @gayturtlez

Masterpost

A Series Of Soulmate AUs Masterpost

Emile was someone who always liked to look on the bright side of things.

He liked to stay positive – to be cheerful and happy as much as possible, for both himself and those he surrounded himself with. Happiness spread happiness, and he was a sunshiny influence on everyone around him.

But sometimes it was difficult to stay positive, with Emile’s soulbond being the way it was. Out of all the different kinds of soulbonds in the world – and there were many, many kinds – the ability to tell when your soulmate was lying was the one that led to the least number of meetings. It wasn’t a way to communicate, nor was it a way for them to track each other down, nor was it a way to identify their first meeting. It was useful for soulmates who’d already met, but didn’t really come in handy when trying to find them in the first place.

It was difficult, sometimes, to stay positive that one day Emile would meet the love of his life.

He tried, though. He tried to be positive and hopeful, and he also tried to be truthful – or stick to little white lies that hurt no one, because he needed to make sure his soulmate could still find him, even if dishonesty made him uncomfortable.

Apparently, his soulmate had no such qualms.

The fireworks that burst in Emile’s chest whenever his soulmate told a lie were undoubtably a good feeling: sometimes making him so bubbly he giggled. But their frequency was often... concerning, as he could never forget that every firework was set off by a lie.

What kind of person was Emile’s soulmate, if they lied so much and so often?

And what did that say about Emile, that that kind of person was his soulmate?

But Emile wasn’t one to judge so quickly. All he wanted was to meet his soulmate, and he knew he’d love them no matter what.

The first thing Emile noticed when he woke up was the firework-like feeling in his heart, earlier than usual, but not too surprising. It happened once. Twice. Thrice. Four times in a row, before it calmed down again, and Emile took a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling as he waited for it to start up again.

To his surprise, it didn’t, so he sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He patted his bedside table a few times, before finding his glasses and slipping them on.

The fireworks returned once in the shower, startling and causing him to almost slip, though he caught himself just in time.

Twice during breakfast.

(The first happened while he was pouring milk into cereal, making him jolt and spill milk over the side of the bowl.)

And then it didn’t happen again until Emile reached the building he worked at, which was simultaneously both a disappointment and a relief: a feeling which Emile was rather used to at this point. As he approached the front doors, he could hear two young men about his age having a conversation just between the building Emile worked at and the next. They were only a few feet away from him, and talking loudly enough, so Emile overheard them without having to strain to listen.

“Wow, I just love the shirt you have on, Remus,” said a masculine voice, dripping with sarcasm.

The moment the words left his mouth, a firework went off in Emile’s chest, and he paused, his hand freezing halfway to the handle of the door. He swallowed. Was that a coincidence, just some interesting timing? Or...

Another voice laughed loudly, followed by the sound of someone clapping another on the back. “Ha! I see you’re still as dickish as ever, Jan. Never change!”

“And I see your clothes are just as clean as ever.”

Another firework.

Emile turned his head, finally taking a look at the man with either impeccable timing or a soul that would fit his perfectly. He was short, though Emile was, too, with curly black hair, a yellow button-up shirt and a black bowler hat on his head. There was a shiny, coiled snake-shaped earring hanging from the one ear that Emile could see, and he wore a pair of clean, lemon yellow gloves.  

His expression was amused, with a half-smirk and raised eyebrows, and he was by far the most attractive man Emile had ever seen. Emile’s breath caught in his throat, and he knew.

He knew.

Well, he figured he should probably check first, just in case he was wrong, but he knew.

Emile pulled his hand back from the door handle. He snuck a quick glance at his watch. There was still half an hour left until his first patient of the day arrived. He let out a sigh of relief. He had time to wait, and listen to the man who he hoped would start lying again.

His eavesdropping was probably incredibly unsubtle, but the man wasn’t facing Emile, his attention fully on the friend in front of him, so he fortunately didn’t notice.

“How is Roman?” Emile’s maybe-soulmate asked his friend.

The friend blew a raspberry. “He sucks! He’s so annoying. Yesterday, he stole my cereal, and then he wouldn’t even admit to it! Asshole.”

The maybe-soulmate clicked his tongue.  

“You have my sympathies,” he spoke in that same smooth, sarcastic tone, with a slight hiss on the ‘s’, making his friend let out an exaggerated mock-offended sound, hand over heart.

(Firework.)

“Rude! You know, maybe you’d get laid more if you weren’t such a bitch.”

“I’m sure.”

(Firework.)

“Whatever. Did you know that ducks have corkscrew-shaped penises?”

The maybe-soulmate let out a disgusted sound. “Wow. I’m so glad you told me that.” (Firework.) He then let out a sigh. “Why are you like this?” He asked in a regular tone.

His friend shrugged and grinned at him. “Dunno.”

Emile’s heart was pounding harder and harder with every firework that went off inside of him, so loud that he could feel it in his ears. His hands were shaking and he was sure his staring was probably very obvious. It was a wonder he hadn’t been noticed by the pair, yet, though a mother with her child had given him a weird look as they walked past him.

“Well, as fun as this conversation is-” (Firework.) “Don’t you have work, now? It’ll piss Remy off if you’re late, you know how he gets.”

“Ugh, who cares? Fuck that bitch.”

“You should care, he might fire you.”

“He’s my cousin! He won’t fire me.”

“It’s Remy. You’re annoying, of course he would.”

The tiniest of fireworks went off in Emile’s chest at the word ‘annoying’. Apparently, the maybe-soulmate was fond enough of his friend that he only sort of found him annoying.

The friend huffed and crossed his arms. “Whatever. I don’t care.”

“You should care. If you’re unemployed you won’t be able to afford all that inedible food you like so much.”

“I can eat garbage!”

“Literally, how are you still alive? You’re going to poison yourself and die young.”

Emile waited for a firework that never came.

The friend shrugged again, showing that he apparently had no qualms about poisoning himself and dying young. The maybe-soulmate sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes for a brief moment as he took a deep breath.

“What am I, your mother?” He asked his friend. “Go on, shoo!” He made shooing gestures with both hands. “Get to work!”

The friend tilted his head back and cackled, but began to walk backwards in the gestured direction.

“Ha, kinky!” He called out as he turned and continued to walk down the street.

“There is nothing kinky about me making you go to work so you don’t get fired,” the maybe-soulmate shouted back, louder than he probably intended, as his expression turned sheepish at the few stares that came his way after that.

He sighed again, and Emile was suddenly struck by the realisation that he really, really needed to talk to this man now, before he walked away, or he might never get the chance to find his soulmate again. And he was now almost certain that this man was his soulmate. So many fireworks at just the right times had to mean something. This couldn’t have just been a coincidence.

He took a deep breath, grounding himself and clenching his hands into fists.

Then, he marched over to the man he hoped was his soulmate – perhaps a little too determined and aggressive, as the man gave him a slightly alarmed, confused look when he stopped in front of him.

The first thing that slipped from Emile’s mouth was a lie.

“My name isn’t Emile Picani,” he said, before cringing internally.

Perhaps that wasn’t the best introduction.

The other man gave him a bewildered look, but the moment the lie came out, his hand shot up to cover his heart.  

“What?”

“I- just- hear me out. Humour me. Please lie to me, just- just quickly. I’m testing something.”

Realisation crossed the other man’s face, and his eyes widened. He looked Emile over quickly: a down and up that was over in an instant – just a quick flick of his eyes – but made Emile’s heart beat harder and faster.

“That’s-” the other man breathed. “Okay. Uh... I hate your cardigan.”

Firework.

“I hate your hat,” Emile said back, and the reacting twitch of the other man’s eyebrows at just the right time made him feel like he was floating.

“Your make-up is appalling.”

Firework.

“I don’t like your hair.”

“Wow...” the other man looked back at him with an astonished expression that Emile was sure was mirrored on his own face. “That’s- that’s not a coincidence.”

Emile shook his head. “No, I... I don’t think it is.”

“That’s- you’re my-”

“-Soulmate,” Emile finished.

The other man took a deep breath. “Wow...” he repeated.

“Yeah...”

There was a beat.

Then, the other man lifted and held out one gloved hand for Emile to shake. Emile took it without hesitation, shaking it easily and enthusiastically. Before he could stop himself, the delight that was filling up inside of him bubbled out of him with a giggle, and the other man gave Emile a soft smile in return that made him feel like he could do anything.

Climb a million mountains. Dance amongst a million stars.

It felt like he could do anything, anything he wanted, just as long as this man kept looking at him like he hung the stars in the sky.

“I’m Janus,” he finally introduced himself. “Janus Sanders.”

“Emile Picani.”

Janus’s smile turned into an amused half-smirk. “Yeah,” he said. “I got that.”

“I, um...” Emile trailed off, finally releasing Janus’s hand and adjusting his pastel pink tie. “I have to go – work. I have a patient coming soon, and I have to finish my paperwork before then. But, um... can I get your number, maybe?”

“Absolutely.”

Emile smiled, relieved, especially at the distinct lack of a firework in his chest. The astonishment and enthusiastic smile on Janus’s face spoke for themselves well enough, but it was always nice to know for sure. They exchanged numbers quickly, before pocketing their phones again.

“I suppose I’ll see you around, Emile,” Janus said, speaking his name slowly, like he was tasting and savouring it: like dessert.

It made Emile feel warm and fuzzy inside.

“Have a horrible day,” Emile said.

Janus’s smile grew at the resulting firework, making Emile’s matching smile grow, too.

“Have a horrible day.”

(Firework.)

[oatmilkovich]

not sure if you've shared your acting thoughts on j.a.w. but would love to hear if you have any stand-out moments. it keeps hitting me what a powerhouse he is and his arc (and especially the incredible power of his scenes with emmy) pretty much singlehandedly kept me watching through seasons 6-8 when a lot of other storylines dragged on! i'm still happy with the show in a post-fiona world but i really miss the lip and fiona dynamic as it really felt like the backbone of the show and the gallagher family!

hey! <3

you sent this weeks ago and i am profusely sorry about that. i haven’t talked about jeremy yet but since it was lip love hours on the dash today, i decided to have a crack at it. lip’s storyline has definitely been the most consistent and solid throughout the entire show – there’s never really a time i don’t enjoy watching his scenes (though i do find it difficult to watch the helene sl in s6). he and emmy consistently worked phenomenally off one another and though i really miss emmy now, i do think we need to hand it to jaw and his contribution to carrying the show for it’s run. 

there’s a lot I could talk about with jeremy’s work so i’ve had to pick a couple of my favourite things for today, otherwise i’d be writing for hours. discussion under the cut! 

remember: this is all my opinion! i’m just an unemployed actor in a pandemic. 

one of my ultimate favourite things about jeremy’s performance is the way he approaches lip’s monologues. in my personal opinion as an actor, monologues fucking suck. they’re unnatural, difficult to pull off and so easily end up being a vehicle for the self indulgent actor to just hear their own voice. luckily for us, jaw manages to knock them out of the park every single time. the key to a successful monologue is a hell of a lot of prep work before hand – you’ve always got to remember that no one monologues and talks at a great interrupted length naturally, that’s just not how humans exist and interact in the world, so an actor always has to consider why their character continues talking and doesn’t stop after the first line. their objective for the scene – what they want to gain – has to be so solid, so vital to the actor/character that we believe they can’t stop talking until they achieve it. an objective is the only thing that drives dialogue forward – we only speak out loud because we want to achieve something. now, there’s an incredibly fine line between pushing to achieve your objective during a monologue and allowing the objective to push you. this is never a problem with jeremy’s work. 

a good objective goes hand in hand with how the lines of the monologue are delivered. every line a character speaks is new to them – the actor rehearses a line but the character doesn’t – each thought behind a line, even if it’s something they’ve thought about before, is new to them. when you’re working in a scene with another actor and trading dialogue, it’s easier for that new line of dialogue to feel more natural as a response to your partner – when you’re on your own in a monologue this can be a huge challenge. monologues are badly done when everything sounds rehearsed – you can tell when the actor isn’t working from moment to moment and is simply saying the lines they’ve learnt in a huge chunk. you don’t believe they’re speaking to achieve their objective, they’re simply speaking the lines on the page and probably are thinking about how good they sound. again, this is never a problem with jeremy’s work. 

now let’s look at this monologue from 5x08:

this is a really well done and subtle monologue on jeremy’s part – it’s one of my favourites and it does a really good job at highlighting how detailed and personalised his work is. before he even begins to speak, you can tell jeremy is prepared for the circumstances of scene. lip is completely riddled with tension – you can see it in the way he clenches his jaw and wipes his hands on his trousers – as an audience member, we already know there’s a hell of a lot on his plate. this monologue is a moment where he allows it all to bubble over. 

lip’s obviously trying to get some leeway on his college finances by explaining his situation to his adviser – perhaps that was jeremy’s objective (to achieve help with his finances) but as he continues talking, it morphs into really heartbreaking glimpse into lip’s pov of being the ‘golden goose’ of the family. it’s the first time we really hear his thoughts on ian’s diagnosis, monica’s illness and how guilty he feels every single day being away from his family. lip asking for a favour becomes less about financial help and even more so about being heard. he needs someone to understand and hear him out. to understand the heavy pressure he feels to achieve what everyone else expects of him. 

a monologue has a mini storyline arc within it and jeremy takes us on journey as we watch lip continue talking, continue exposing himself, putting himself in a horribly vulnerable position. he starts by easing himself in – cracking a joke about how they should get to know one another because he’ll be there a lot – but as soon as he starts going into detail about ian and why he needs an extension on payments, there’s a significant shift in jeremy’s delivery and lip’s relationship to how badly he needs this. jeremy allows himself to fully experience each thought before he delivers a line – he doesn't rush and allows moments to breathe. every single line he says, every single sibling or situation he mentions, we get a glimpse of his pov on the subject. these moments of pause allow lip’s journey throughout the speech to be so clear to us as audience members, there’s never a moment where a piece of dialogue feels delivered falsely or preplanned. jeremy doesn’t push to achieve anything and we follow lip throughout the speech on his journey without a clue where he’s going to end up. 

by the end of the monologue, lip’s desperation to be understood is clearer than ever. he’s panicking but jeremy never overplays it. even as it builds and he begins to visibly get more emotional with tears in his eyes, it never becomes a performance. jeremy always manages to get the balance right and it’s just a really, really beautiful reaction to his circumstances and truthful acting coming from the moment. it’s a huge deal to bare his heart like this to someone – a stranger at that – and jeremy manages to capture that vulnerable dent in lip’s pride perfectly. he’s not yelling, he’s not pulling his hair out, but we still completely understand why this is so important to him. although I'll never know how he actually prepares his work, his text work here is deeply personalised – you can tell jeremy has given lip’s pov a good thought. I believe him the entire way through, his objective is clear and whatever it was that jeremy decided to use worked perfectly for both his motivation and our belief. 

as someone who has shed a tear over performing many a monologue, he makes it seem so fucking effortless – i think that’s what really gets me. i’d love to see him do work on stage one day. as i said, there are about a million things I could talk about when it comes to jaw’s work on the show. this baaaaaarely even scratches the surface! I wanted to talk about another monologue here too, but i think this got long enough only talking about one! 

please always feel free to ask me about any specific moments if you have any pressing questions, i can’t promise i’ll get to it very quickly (i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry!) but i will always try.my inbox is always open for anything, acting or otherwise. it takes me a while, but I really, really do love talking about this stuff. 

thanks for reading! <3 

[btsslowburnfic]

Series Summary: For Namjoon, the moment he set his sights on being the #1 rapper, he pushed the symbol to the side and hated it. Love should be chosen, not forced on you. He didn’t believe in fate and this mark on his wrist was a big “fuck you” to all that.

AN: a loooong update where we get YN to Korea Previous Chapter here

The three of you made it safe and sound to your new brownstone across the river in New Jersey. Joe has a job lined up, but at the moment you and Xavier are unemployed. On this particular day, you are in your room job hunting when you hear a knock on your bedroom door and then see Xavier gently push it open. “Fly your ass to Korea. Now. Here,” Xavier throws a book at you. “I bought you a Korean dictionary.”

You roll your eyes. “Namjoon speaks English. And I can’t read the characters or whatever so how will a dictionary help. And, I’m not going to Korea.”

Xavier crosses his arms in front of his body. “Girl. You are still in your twenties. You have no job. There is a hot man who is also your soulmate across the ocean. GO TO KOREA.” You pick your phone back up, ignoring him. You hear him let out a frustrated sigh and leave the room. You didn’t know what you wanted. You didn’t tell them that Namjoon had passed along his schedule to you and that he would be in Korea for 6 weeks starting in two weeks and that he had offered to buy you a plane ticket. You kept going back and forth. Fine. Fuck it.

YN: Hey! I’ve been thinking and I would like to come visit. As long as it’s not too much trouble and won’t interfere with your schedule

You let out a breath and put the phone down. One thing you have learned is that he keeps very strange hours and there is no way of knowing when he will be awake, when he will be performing, or even what country he is in. You are shocked when you receive a reply instantly.

NJ: It’s no problem. I will be working a lot of the time, but there is also some free time blocked out so make sure you’re ready to do some sightseeing as well on your own. I’ll rent a noona for you.

YN: I have no idea what that means but ok. Sounds exciting.

NJ: You can rent tour guides. An “older sister” to translate and show you around on some of the days.

YN: That would be amazing! Ok. Sounds great!!

NJ: I’ll book the flight and email you the information.

YN: Awesome ^_^ Thank you so much.

You try to keep your cool. You really do. But it doesn’t last long as you sit the phone down and walk out into the hallway. “Xavier!”

“What? Brat.” You hear him call from the living room.

“I’m going to Korea!” You say with a big smile on your face.

“Holy shit. You’re doing it!?! Really? When?” He sits up straight on the couch.

“I’m not sure. He’s booking the flight.”

“Oh my God. Oh my God. IT’S HAPPENING. Come. Sit here. Let’s watch some Kdramas. We need to prepare you.”

You roll your eyes but join him on the couch anyway.

--3 weeks later--

The flight isn’t too bad. When Namjoon booked your ticket you did secretly wonder if he would spring for an upgraded seat since you know...you guessed he was rich. You did not expect that he was going to pay for a first class seat though. The comfort of the seats and the fact that food was actually delicious helped to balance out the longest flight you had ever taken in your life. You managed to get some rest on the plane, but not very much since you were so excited and nervous. You had not seen each other for a while. And the last time you saw him you were both naked.

When you arrive you don’t have any bags to collect; you just brought your carry-on. You know you are going to do a lot of shopping while you are there and had decided you would just buy a suitcase there. You walk down to departures and scan the crowd looking for your name. This was so exciting. You had been the person in the crowd holding a name placard before, but you had never had it done for you. It helped that it was one of the few names written in English. You smile and walk over to a man in a suit.  After confirming each other’s identity, you follow him out to a black SUV with tinted windows. He takes your bag and you slide into the backseat. 

YN: Hey! I’m on my way to the hotel. When will I get to see you?

NJ: Yeah….about that. There is no way I would be able to just be going in and out of a hotel without anyone here noticing. This isn’t LA. We can’t really go out in public much here. The driver will be taking you to my apartment complex. Once you get here, you will let security know who you are. They will provide you with a key and directions.

You weren’t expecting this at all, but it made sense.

YN: Umm ok. Sounds like a plan. 

You hoped to God someone at the security office spoke English. Oh well. You typed some things into your translation app just in case and tried to enjoy the scenery. It was a city, but it seemed a lot cleaner than LA. Less sunny, and more modern. At least the parts you were driving through.

After a fifteen minute taxi ride that has brought you into a very fancy part of Seoul you try to keep your cool as your driver assures you that this is the location you are supposed to be at. It is fancy looking as fuck and has a giant ass gate around it. The driver pulls up and shows his credentials and then pulls up and rolls your window down.

The security officer stands there, looking at you. You pull out your passport and state your name. He looks over a sheet of paper and nods. Handing you an envelope that feels like it has a keyboard and some papers in it. You thank him in shitty Korean and the driver closes the window. You open the envelope.

“Hey. If you’re getting this, I wasn’t able to get off work in time to meet you. The driver knows which building to go to. Use this key to go to unit 4106. Text me when you get there. Sorry!

Namjoon”

The chauffeur drives between several of the buildings. The streets are lined with trees and there appeared to be several small gardens between the buildings. The car comes to a stop outside building 4. The driver gets out to open your door and hands you the bag. You thank him and head into the building.

The apartment building was a lot like a luxury hotel, you find yourself thinking. It was decorated similarly with gilded light fixtures and a marble floor. You scan your key card at the elevators and head up to the 10th floor. 

It becomes very obvious from the minute you walk in that this is Namjoon’s actual apartment. His giant shoes are all over the foyer.  You purse your lips and take out your phone.

YN: YOU DIDNT SAY IT WAS YOUR APARTMENT

NJ: Relax sweetheart, the guest bedroom is for you. I’m hardly ever there. Make yourself at home and I’ll see you later ;p

YN: THATS NOT THE POINT

NJ: You’re welcome. Stop being a brat and enjoy.

You pout a little bit. Fine. Fine. You’ve already slept with him so why does it matter if this is his apartment. Because it feels so much more intimate, you think. You enter into the space while texting Xavier.

YN: New chapter in the Kdrama series. 

You knew Xavier would normally be sleeping, but he was so excited and wanted to make sure you made it safely he was wide awake.

X: Oh no, what?

YN: he didn’t arrange for me to stay in a hotel IM AT HIS APARTMENT.

X: AHAHAHAHAHA HOLY SHIT. Is it nice? Is there like a waterfall? Does it smell like rich people? Send pictures!

YN: I don’t think I should send pics since he’s famous, but there are no waterfalls that I can see. It smells normal. Actually no, it smells new, like people don’t really live here. Stay tuned for updates.

X: Has he dicked you yet?

YN: -_- he’s stuck at work. And I’ll be in the guest bedroom thankyouverymuch.

X: Yeah….ok…..suuuuuuure.

You put your phone back in your pocket and continue to wander around the apartment. It is the size of a house. There is a small terrace running  along the side of the unit and three open rooms that flow together. I guess rich people need more than one living room? You wonder. They are all furnished with couches and art. The floors are a beautiful Marble. Or Granite. Some expensive imported thing. You notice several plants on the wall as well as out on the terrace. Huh. I did not think he would be into plants, you find yourself thinking.

YN: Nice plants

NJ: My pride and joy

You smile and walk into the kitchen. It looks like a showroom. You doubt much cooking goes on here. If you could afford to eat out all the time you would too. You open the fridge and as predicted, it is mostly empty. There are a few bottles of water and some random condiments. Panic strikes you as you begin to wonder if there’s a coffee maker in this apartment. This could be a deal breaker; you might have to flee to the Marriott. There isn’t one sitting out. You frantically open cabinets. You make eye contact with a very fancy looking Espresso maker. Ok. You will learn how to use this beast. You sit it out on the counter and plug it in. Crisis averted for now. You continue through the rest of the house. You quickly find the master bedroom. Big bed. That’s all you take note of before closing the door. You don’t want to be nosy. You wander to the other end of the apartment and find an extra bedroom and an office. You don’t go to the office, but do take your stuff into the guest bedroom. You are feeling tired and starting to feel hungry.

YN: When will you be back? Is there a convenience store nearby? I need coffee and/or food.

NJ: Sorry. It will still be a while. Actually there are several stores on property. The closest one is in building 2. Here, download the app. I’ll send you the login info.

YN: Thanks.

You change out of your traveling clothes into real clothing and head to the market. The apartment complex’s layout is fairly easy to understand once you look at the app. You walk over to tower 2 and ride the elevator to the market level. It looks like the atrium of a cruise ship. There is a giant crystal chandelier hanging in the middle of the lobby area as well as beautiful indoor trees, glass art bulbs, probably a peacock or two wandering around, and some light music playing in the background. Oh God. I should just starve. This is too fancy. I need to leave.  

You turned to leave when you heard a voice speaking politely in Korean. You ignore it, and then hear the same voice ask in English,  “Excuse me, Miss. Can I help you?” A short man in his 50’s walked over. “I’m on the concierge staff here. You must be new.” 

“Ah yes. Thank you. Umm...Coffee please?”

“Of course. Take-away or beans?”

“Both please?” You ask, trying to keep it simple and very thankful for the English.

“Yes of course. If you just get me the unit number I can actually just have it sent there. Also there is an ordering and delivery app you can use next time if you would like to save yourself the walk.” The man explained while he typed some information into a tablet. 

“That’s very helpful. Thank you. For today, now please.” 

“Very well miss, please insert your chip or resident card here and sign,” he turned the tablet towards you. You inserted your debit card.  

“Thank you. Please wait.”

You take a seat in the fancy lobby area and get out your phone. You had some messages from Namjoon.

[NJ]: Oh, there is also an app you can download and order groceries to the apartment. 

[NJ]: I usually eat at work so I forget about it.

[NJ]: Sorry, you probably already hiked there.

A smirk crossed your face as you started to type a response.

[Y/N]: Sorry, I just saw these. And no worries. It’s a beautiful part of the complex. I was a little overwhelmed to be honest but the concierge was very helpful!  10/10 recommend.  

You take a picture of the lobby area and send it to him.

[NJ]: wow, yeah that’s beautiful. I haven’t actually been there myself.

The concierge returns, handing you a coffee and a bag of coffee beans.  You thank him profusely one more time.

“My pleasure. Take care.”

You sit the beans down and pose with your coffee cup, snapping a selfie to send to Namjoon.

[Y/N]: There, now all is right with the world ^_^

[NJ]: :) See you soon!

You travel back to the apartment and unpack your suitcase. You try your hardest to stay awake, but at this point you have been up for over 24 hours and you can feel the pull of sleep. You’ll just lay down for a nap. 

---------

It is dark outside by the time Namjoon gets off work. He feels bad he couldn’t meet you in the car at the airport, and even worse that he’s kept you waiting for hours. You haven’t answered any of his texts these past few hours either. He opens the door to his apartment. The lights are off. Did you leave? He wonders. He flips on the light and sees your shoes by the door which put a smile on his face. You must be sleeping. He hasn’t actually been in his apartment for about 2 months. It was mostly the same as he left it, except most of the time when he returned the apartment had a stale smell from having been left empty. This time it smelled like coffee and girl.

He enters the main living area and finds you laying in a small blanket nest on the couch with a laptop on the table; a coffee cup resting on a coaster next to it. He smiles and goes through to his bedroom to deposit his travel bag. He washes his face and changes clothes and then proceeds to nervously pace. Should he wake you up? You were probably tired, but at the same time, to prevent jet lag you shouldn’t sleep too much, and he wanted to hang out with you. He wrestles with this issue for a while and then decides he will try to wake you up.

He gently shakes your foot, “Hey sleepy. Wake up.” 

“Mmmmmmmmmmm…” you respond. What’s happening? You kick the thing bothering your foot. So annoying. You hear a deep voice laugh. Oh shit, where were you again? The shaking of your foot resumes and you crack open one of your eyes and see Namjoon sitting on the couch. “Heyyyy.”

“Hey there sweetheart. Nice seeing you in Korea.”

You feel your heart do a little flip flop at the way he’s talking to you but you want to play it cool. “Yeah. It’s good to be here.” You stretch out and move to sit up.

“How are your legs doing?” He asks.

“Good. They get stiff pretty easily and I still have to do my exercises everyday but they don’t hurt most of the time or anything. I get pretty bad headaches from time to time, but you already knew that. Sorry about that by the way.”

“It’s fine, I just carry aspirin around with me now.” He shrugs. “Did you get any food? Should I order something?”

“Yeah. Order some super Korean food.” You are fully awake now.

“Yeah? You serious? It’s not going to be like Koreatown food.” He teases

“Might as well jump in. If I don’t like it, there’s always rice, right?” You smile.

“That’s true,” he takes out his phone to order dinner.

“What did you do today?”

“Today was planning for the Festa. Even though it’s months away we have to make sure we have enough content planned just in case there are any unforeseen delays.”

“Cool.” You say. You had done your basic level ARMY research so you were somewhat familiar with their different activities.

“How was your flight? You should probably get up and stretch those legs around. Get up.” He pushes your shoulder playfully.

“Ughhh….fine. By the way. Nice apartment. Is rent like 20 grand a month?” You stand up groaning slightly like an old woman. Damn stiff legs.

“Uhh...I paid 6 million dollars for it up front so I don’t pay rent. Do you want anything to drink?”

It’s a good thing you weren’t drinking anything when he dropped that little factoid on you or you would have spit it out comic-book style. Jesus. That explained the security and Gucci grocery store. “Uh water please.” You walked over following him to the kitchen. “It’s good to see you by the way. Thanks for inviting me.” You slowly remember how to speak like a human again.

“Sure. I wish I had more free time to spend with you, but I’m glad you were able to make it.” He fills a glass with water for you. “Wait a minute! Before I forget,” he jogs out of the room and returns with a small box. “Here, this is for you. We were in Australia last month and I wanted to get something for you.”

You are surprised. It didn’t occur to you that he would think about you or buy you something. Until a few months ago you had considered yourself a nuisance. “Wow, thank you so much. You didn’t have to do that.” you say, taking the box, “I hope it’s a tiny KNOIFE or tiny koala or tiny kangaroo,” you open the box. It is an adorable mug with a Koala on it superimposed on the Australian Continent. It says in English, “Lucky Australian Koala.” You burst out laughing, cupping the mug with both your hands in front of your face. “This is perfection. Thank you so much for my authentic LUCKY AUSTRALIAN KOALA, I cannot wait to drink out of him tomorrow. Seriously. “ You sit the mug on the kitchen table. Fuck it. “Come here,” you gesture, and pull him in for a hug. His body feels solid against your and he gently wraps his arms around you. You give a firm squeeze. “Thank you for the mug and for flying me out here.”  You pull away and smile at him. 

He looks away almost shy, “It was nothing. I figure I still owe you a few for the pen incident.”

You take a drink of the water. “Yeah. You have had some dickish moments.” 

“Speaking of dickish behavior...do you want to talk about what happened with Ben or…?”

You shrug. “There’s not a lot to say. Ben apparently met his soulmate about 4 months before the car accident. He tried to stay away since we had already agreed that we didn't care about stuff like that. But he couldn't. I don't know when he started seeing Jessie behind my back. They were apparently banging all summer in the apartment and while I was in the hospital.” You take another gulp of water. Namjoon is surprised that he isn’t feeling much anger or sadness coming off of you. “After I got all my shit out of the apartment and had a chance to calm down, I couldn't be too mad about it you know? You and I had already slept together and most people aren't as stubborn as us. So really, how could they resist? I mean I was angry and sad at the time but at this point it seems like a lifetime ago. "

Namjoon had never asked about what had happened with Ben before, assuming that if you wanted to talk about it you would have brought it up. " Wow. "

"Yeah. I mean that's waaaay oversimplified but that's the gist of it. Anyways. Everything was a mess for me for a while. You know I stayed with Xavier and Joe and then  Xavier's husband got a really good job offer here so we all picked up and left LA."

“And now you’re in New York.” He finishes your thought

“Yeah. Well Jersey technically because rent is $1000 less a month. But I’m applying for jobs as assistant director at tv stations and theaters. I’m hopeful something will come up. I can’t really teach fitness classes anymore.”

Namjoon listens thoughtfully, feeling like a jackass for never asking about this stuff before. What kind of soulmate was he? 

“Well, let me know if you need a job reference.”

“Ahahahaha,” You laugh awkwardly. “No way. I don’t want people thinking I only got a job because I know someone famous.”

“Sweetheart, that’s how everyone gets jobs in the industry.” He leans against the counter.

“I don’t know, I’ll think about it.” You fidget

“You know I’ll just text Xavier and he’ll tell me the companies you applied for.” Namjoon flashes his dimples at you.

You scowl. “I didn’t realize you two were so chummy.”

“Hey, we bonded a lot in the hospital.” His phone let out a chirp. “The food is at the security office. I’ll be back in a few. Make yourself at home.” He heads over to the foyer to slip his shoes on. 

You decide to unpack and then wash your face and brush your teeth before returning to the main area where he has just returned. “That was fast”, you comment, meeting him near the door and taking a bag from his hands.

“I rode my bike over.” He replies, following you to the kitchen. 

“They let your clumsy ass ride a bike?” You tease, pulling food out.

He lets out a laugh, “Yeah. Just remember, only one of us has got hit by a car.”

“Touche. Touche. Alright. I don’t know what any of this is, so I’m going to go wait at the table like a lazy bitch.”

“Haha, fair enough. I’ll bring it over. “

You head over and have a seat at the dining table, placing your water down. This feels so weird. So intimate. He joins a few minutes later placing a bunch of food on the table along with a spoon and chopsticks.

“I’m sure there’s a fork around here somewhere if you need one.” He says as he opens the lids on the containers.

“I lived in LA where we ate sushi almost every day, I think I’ll be ok.” You sass back, ,looking over all of the delicious food. You start to dig in. He sits waiting to see what your reaction will be. You flash him a thumbs up as you chew. It’s definitely good. He smiles and begins to eat as well.

Dinner is relatively quiet. You had no idea how hungry you were until you started to eat. Some of the foods had a texture you didn’t quite care for, but overall you liked it all.

“Wow. That was delicious. Thank you so much.” You smile

“It was. You’re welcome.” He gets up and starts to clear the table and you join him. 

You continue to yawn involuntarily as the two of you straighten up the kitchen,

“Do you want some coffee or a nap?” he asks.

“I’m going to try and stay awake a little bit longer. What does the rest of the night look like?”

“Relaxing. I am exhausted from work. And you don’t look so fresh yourself. LEt’s watch a movie or something.” He says it so casually. Like this is a normal thing the two of you do. Like it hasn’t been months since the last time you saw each other and you left him naked and alone in a bed. You feel your heartbeat speed up.

“Hold on, I’m changing into some comfy clothes before I make this commitment.” you get up and head towards your room.

You come back in leggings and a shirt. Namjoon has re-positioned himself on the end of the couch. You sit next to him. “Ok, all set,” you grab your blanket. 

“You take your comfort quite seriously,” Namjoon laughs as he hits the play button. 

“Definitely,” you respond, yawning. After about half an hour, It’s dark outside, the night spilling into the living room. You are trying to keep your eyes open. You feel Namjoon put his large arm around you. You don’t resist, you nestle into it. You feel the warmth of his body radiating against you. It feels so nice.You try to stay awake but your eyelids grow heavy.  The next thing you know, you wake up slowly, not quite oriented to where you are. Your face is sweaty. You take stock of your surroundings. You are still in the living room. You must have fallen asleep while watching the movie. You move a bit and realize you are not alone. Namjoon is asleep as well. Underneath you. Oh god. You probably trapped him. Is that your drool on his shirt? You wonder. But you know that yes, it definitely is. Jesus [Y/N].Not making a great impression here.  Must sneak out so the drool will dry before he wakes up. You move as stealthy as possible off of him, which is very difficult since you found yourself laying between his legs. How did you even get like that? You had gone in for a light snuggle to see how it would be received and then apparently passed out dead. No more starting movies when you were tired. You knew it was your weakness. 

The poor man probably had to pee and was stuck, forced to lay underneath you until he fell asleep.    Is he snoring? Huh. Well ok. You drool and he snores. Very attractive individuals. You grab a blanket from your nest on the other side of the couch and put it on top of him. You sneak down the hallway to your bathroom, pee and sneak into your bedroom. You lay down and try to fall asleep, but your heart is beating fast as all you can think about it falling asleep on Namjoon. You feel your face grow warm. You are  a mix of turned on and embarrassed. You turn off your light and wonder if he will still want to go sightseeing with your drooly-ass tomorrow.  @calling-dips-on-j-hope​​  @ghostkat23​​ @cuteipat​​ @marianeamine​​@thisisval​​ @almonte12​​  @themisunderstoodblackswan​ @bobbyboops​  @betysotelo18​ @katerbees​

[matthiasschoenaertsdaily]

Matthias Schoenaerts full interview for De Morgen Magazine (original in Flemish, translated into English by @matthiasschoenaertsdaily​)

Interview by Els Maes, published on November 28, 2020

Even a global pandemic will not destroy the optimism of actor Matthias Schoenaerts (42). Because he knows from his own experience how much beauty can emerge from the most hopeless situations. "I've had my back against the wall often enough, I'll always find a way out."

A bleak autumn day on a concrete square. There is lukewarm coffee, lukewarm Chimay and rolling tobacco. At dusk we see the silhouettes of fat rats that shoot past our ankles. And yet Matthias Schoenaerts will tell us in a glowing argument that this, here and now, is the very best place to be. That there is so much beauty to discover, he says. Le paradis c'est ici. As long as we want to see it.

"It's strange to say in this unpleasant period, but I've enjoyed the past few months enormously. It's the first time in ten years, since Runskop actually, that I'll be home for a long period of time. This is so beneficial: I am photographing, painting, writing. I can devote time and attention to the very simple things we'd otherwise race past."

"Seriously, look at that," he says, picking a leaf off the ground. "Those colors, that pattern. I can spend hours looking at the pure beauty of the things that surround us."

Above us a pigeon is wreaking havoc between the thinned out foliage. "While you are singing about the wonderful beauty of nature, that animal is going to shit on our heads," I say. "And that too will be a s-p-l-e-n-d-i-d moment," Schoenaerts answers.

Matthias Schoenaerts is Belgium's most successful international film star. But here and now, on a bench in his hometown, he is a technically unemployed actor, an all-round searching artist, but above all: fighter of cynicism. "I refuse to go along with all negativity and fear. The true battle today is cynicism versus courage. And I always choose the latter."

We're on the Oudevaartplaats, the square that everyone knows as the Antwerp Bird Market, and where Schoenaerts' childhood memories are waiting to be picked up. It comes into the conversation just like that: Brando, the cute chow chow that little Matthias got from his mom on this square, when here on the bird market puppies were still sold. "My dogs were my great loves. The home situation was often difficult, and with my dogs I found security. We had three chow chows, those fluffy lion dogs with a blue tongue. Brando was the first, I loved that animal."

"We lived in a small apartment with three dogs, anything but ideal. One day we let them go, to people with a large estate. That was heartbreaking."

There is a beautiful lesson in that, about love and letting go. It would have been selfish to keep your dogs if you could give them a nicer life elsewhere, wouldn't it?

"Absolutely, but I obviously didn't process that departure properly. Brando still appears in my dreams, after all these years. Then he returns home unexpectedly, and am I mad with joy.

"I often dream about my parents too: that reunion is so intensely beautiful and warm. Oh, there you are, finally! Those dreams are true to life, and the awakening is rock-hard."

Is that one of the reasons why you like being here in Antwerp, because here you feel more connected to the people that you loved?

"This is my home, my zero, I can't imagine a place in the world where I would rather live. When my mom was alive, and especially when she got sick, in between filming I tried to be with her as much as possible here in Antwerp. In the meantime I have an apartment here, my first permanent place of my own, but I've hardly been there in recent years. Now I can finally enjoy my home, I find peace, tranquility and inspiration there. I have seen fantastic sunsets on my roof terrace in recent months. So much beauty, and you can just admire it there, every day, for free. As long as you take the time to enjoy it.

"Normally I would have started filming again in April, and left for a hectic ride of at least two years, with projects that would follow each other quickly. I was at my limits, sooner or later I was going to bang my head against the wall. I feel how beneficial it is to slow down for a moment. David Lynch said that: 'Just slow things down and it becomes more beautiful'.

"As an actor you have to work in a big machine, according to a tight schedule. I have now discovered the pleasure of creating things for myself very spontaneously in my own cadence."

Is that work something you ever want to go public with?

"I want to do something with my photography someday, but I'm in no hurry. I'm also writing a film script, I've had an idea for a trilogy for a long time. It's a very personal project, and it takes time for it to crystallize into something very pure and proper. Maybe those films will come within ten years, maybe never.

"The most important thing is to keep busy. You have to look for something, anything, on which you can focus your passion, love and attention. Of course I would like to return to set, and those projects will come back later. But if I can't change anything about a situation, why worry about it?

"From a very young age I learned that there are not many certainties in life, I adapt easily to unexpected circumstances. There is one thing I can't stand, and that is feeling powerless. I never want to be the victim of a situation, I will always think: what can I do myself? Which way can I go? I have often enough stood with my back against the wall, I will always find a way out and take matters into my own hands."

So Schoenaerts decided to use this period to put Zenith - his artist name as a street artist - to hard work. Since the lockdown he has already created nine impressive murals, including one in the courtyard of the Oudenaarde prison, and one at the beginning of this month in the Antwerp Begijnenstraat, on the bare walls that form their furthest horizon for the prisoners. A moving event, he says. Not only by the touching conversations with inmates, and the forty-minute applause with which the prisoners welcomed him. "The mural contains a poem by my father. While I am there painting those beautiful words of my dad on the wall, I suddenly remember that my mom used to give meditation lessons to the prisoners there in the Begijnenstraat. I had completely forgotten about that until I stood there. How beautiful that is. Suddenly I felt my parents very tangible, very close to me."

It's a bit funny: a long time ago you were arrested for graffiti, now they invite you to prison to make a mural.

"I used to tag a lot, but I really don't like the vandalism that sometimes comes with graffiti. Defacing a facade, that's just ridiculous. But trains, bridges, tunnels.... frankly I think that's the max. Soon I'm going to do another oldskool graffiti wall, with some friends, back to the roots. But with permission, yes."

Scary dudes

The problems of the Belgian detention system are well known: outdated infrastructure, overcrowding and a system of pre-trial detention which means that some people are innocently stuck for years. Schoenaerts: "These are human lives that are destroyed by the Belgian state, isn't that scandalous?"

Schoenaerts' engagement started years ago, after meeting Hans Claus, prison director in Oudenaarde, who contacted him when he wanted to organize a screening of Le Fidèle, the film by Michaël R. Roskam starring Schoenaerts. Claus has been fighting for many years for a reform of our detention system, among others with the non-profit organization De Huizen, small-scale centers that are more focused on rehabilitation and reintegration of the detainee. How does Schoenaerts see his role? "Those murals are a kind of lubricant for me, to get attention for this problem. I am not the expert and I am certainly not a politician. This injustice touches me as a human being, and my message is clear: please listen to the people who have been working hard for decades to reform the system from the inside."

In The Mustang, your last feature film to be seen here before the lockdown, you take on the role of a prisoner who learns to tame wild horses and his demons. Has that role changed your vision?

"That rehabilitation program with mustangs really exists, and the chance of recidivism is almost zero percent. I had a conversation in the Begijnenstraat with the minister of Justice Vincent Van Quickenborne (Open Vld, ed.), and he told me that the chance of relapse here is 40 to 50 percent. Isn't that madness?

"That's what fascinates me most of all: what do we do with those detainees while they're stuck? How can we help to break the destructive patterns that put them in prison? Imprisonment is a punishment in itself, but someday we'll send those people back into society, so let's mainly support them in their self-development.

"In preparation for The Mustang, I visited prisons in the U.S., and talked to men who had been detained for 20, 30 years. Heavy guys: Aryan Brotherhood (powerful crime syndicate of neo-Nazis in American prisons, ed.), Mexican gang leaders... real scary dudes. You know what those say to me? That they live in fear every day, but they must not show weakness. Psychological counseling and things like that have their value, but that's often very cerebral. I especially believe in the healing power of art. Imagine that inmates can express all those fucked up emotions through art: I think that there is an enormous potential in this."

I heard you're playing with the idea of giving acting lessons to inmates?

"That's not a concrete plan yet, but I would love it if people from the creative sector would commit themselves to this: musicians, sculptors, dancers. Or writers who help prisoners put their own story into words.

"The cultural sector needs to start sticking its neck out. The sector is lying flat, and that's terrible. But we have to keep moving. We can all do something for the community, without being paid for it. Planting small seeds, doing something good for your fellow man, something beautiful always comes out of it."

Had you been to a prison before The Mustang?

"To visit friends, yes. In Merksplas, Hoogstraten, Hasselt, Dendermonde... We shouldn't talk about that any further. A prison is deep tristesse. Who dares to call that 'a hotel', shame on you."

This summer you painted an impressive mural in Paris in honor of George Floyd, murdered by American officers. And in Ostend last week a new mural was unveiled, with a 'decapitated' Leopold II. Is activism an important part of your street art?

"Graffiti used to be more of a style exercise for me, you want to create things that get noticed within the scene. But gradually I felt like communicating with a wider audience. I like to incorporate a lot of symbolism in my paintings, such as the cracks I photograph all over the world and then magnify them in another place. And the praying hands, a universal image of hope and faith in yourself. Art has the power to speak to our deepest emotions, and that is what binds us to the other. Connectedness, empathy, harmony, solidarity, that's the essence for me."

The corona crisis is one big exercise in empathy and solidarity. Sometimes we seem to lack that.

"I refuse to surrender to cynicism, and I surround myself with positive people who do beautiful things for others. This period would lead us to insights: how do we deal with each other? Do we help each other, or is it every man for himself? A human is such a wonderful creature, but we mess it up so much for ourselves.

"Yeah, I know. Some people who read this will think: this guy is smoking too many joints. (laughs) I don't smoke joints, and I'm not an unworldly idealist. But I will always focus my attention on the good, in spite of everything."

If you always want to see the good in people, are you sometimes disappointed?

"Yes, of course. I'm not a naive brat, I've learned to guard my boundaries. I can't please everyone all the time, and I don't let anyone rush me. I react badly when people put pressure on me because they want things from me. The perception of me that others have of me, I can't control. I don't let myself put out of balance easily anymore."

I saw that on your Instagram Stories you warned about fake profiles on social media, of people pretending to be you. That made you visibly angry.

"Really, that makes me angry. Every day I receive screenshots from people who have been tricked by crooks who approach innocent victims with my name and my pictures. There are stories of fans who have paid thousands of euros because they were promised a meet-and-greet with me. How disgusting is that? One person has transferred 14,000 euros to someone who pretended to be my manager.

"Of course, that raises questions about how gullible some people can be. But I've seen those chat conversations for myself: those criminals are terribly sneaky. They know how to play on the vulnerabilities of their victims in a very cunning way. This is manipulation and swindle of the filthiest kind.

"Really, I get physically unwell when I think about it. How can someone be so mean? If I ever catch these guys, I'm gonna bash their skulls in, I'm not kidding. Sorry."

Or: those crooks get a jail sentence, where you're going to give them acting lessons.

(laughs) "Okay, let it be clear that I think everyone should be punished for their crimes. My commitment to the prison system is not a plea for impunity, and I certainly don't want to romanticize crime.

"But when someone abuses innocent people's trust in such a cunning way, the question is: how did you derail so morally? And above all: how can we initiate a transformation in that person? Surely you can't lock someone up and expect that person to suddenly make better choices years later? First such a person has to take responsibility for his own actions."

Do you have something criminal on your conscience?

"No." (Thinks for a second) "No. Thank God. I couldn't live with that.

"I've probably hurt people in my life, like everybody else. Sometimes we just hurt people because of who we are, or because we can't fulfill what others want from us. But I have never harmed anyone consciously or criminally, no."

As a teenager you sometimes came into contact with the juvenile court, for vandalism. Do you think you could have ended up on the other side of the bars?

"Probably, a life can take strange turns sometimes."

What made you sit here today, and not get on the 'wrong' path?

"Wait... that's a good question. There's the one terrible dramatic event that caused a total turnaround in my life: when my dad went into a coma after a psychosis, and I was told he only had 24 hours left to live.

"I was 21 then, thrown out of school for the umpteenth time. I was doing graffiti and wanted to find my way creatively. But I was messing around, going with friends who... Anyway, there was latent danger, it threatened to go a little bit the wrong way.

"And then I got that phone call: come and say goodbye. Bam. The relationship with my father had been sour for years, we hardly saw each other. Until I stood there at his deathbed in intensive care... I only felt love, a wave of emotions that I had pushed down very deeply. That realization was rock-hard: this was it. My father and I will never get the chance to figure shit out, I thought.

"Long story, the rest is known: after 72 hours my father woke up from a coma against all odds. Like a plant: he could not speak, reacted to nothing or nobody. According to the chief psychiatrist, we had to accept that his condition would never improve. That was without the fighting spirit of my mother and me.

"It's because of that unlikely event that I've changed my whole lifestyle. For eight months, my mother and I went to visit my father every day. We talked to him, but he seemed to look straight through us. For hours we sat with him at the psychiatry department of Stuivenberg, how desperate those first months were also. We continued to fight, taught him to talk, to eat, to walk. A miracle, the doctors called it. Bullshit of course. It was love, dedication and stubbornness. Especially thanks to my mother, the lioness who kept fighting for him. And see how much beauty came out of it. My life then received an entirely different impulse.

"I suddenly think of an anecdote I've never told before. After a while we were allowed to take my father to the cafeteria once in a while, or to the garden. But he was absolutely not allowed to leave the hospital. Fuck it. I hid a bag of clothes for him, secretly dressed him in the toilet and took my father to the city. By bus, because I didn't have a driver's license. I wanted to stimulate his senses, test if any memories would come back. He was fond of Our Lady's Cathedral, so that's where I wanted to take him."

Matthiaske, why am I crying?

He plays it out. The written version here is only a dead script compared to the lived-through performance, right there on that dark square, just around the corner of the Arenbergschouwburg, where Matthias made his stage debut as a 9-year-old boy next to father Julien, as The Little Prince.

Matthias shows how he supported his frail dad, and how they shuffled in small, careful steps towards the cathedral. Dad looking at the ground to be sure not to fall. "I say, 'Dad, look up'. He looks up, and I see the tears rolling down his cheeks. I had never seen my father cry. 'Matthiaske,' he says, 'can you tell me why I'm crying?'

"I had already decided then that I would take my father into my house. Overconfident, yes, at that age, but they have become the most beautiful years of my life. Mom came by every day to help. Suddenly we were a bit of a family again, something we had only been for a short time when I was young."

It was at that time that you decided to become an actor. Why did you decide to become an actor?

"I had always resisted following in my father's footsteps. In my youth I mainly wanted to break away from my father, and seek my own path. I didn't want to have anything to do with him and all those loudmouths around him in the theater world. But most of all I was terrified that compared to the great Julien Schoenaerts I would never be good enough.

"Only now do I understand why I then decided to go to the conservatory. Not to become an actor, but to understand my father. We had so many years together, and now that we had been given a second chance, I wanted to get to know him as well as possible. By acting, maybe I could get closer to him." (pauses)

Sentimental fuss

He banishes the tears. It's one of the many things he has in common with his father, he says: they're both very emotional, but they hate sentimental fuss. "Come on, Matthias: breathe," he commands himself.

"Voilà, see how much beauty can come out of misery. What a chain of beautiful things came out of the fight my mother and I put up in the most hopeless situation. Who knows how differently my life would have turned out?"

"There are so many lessons in that. If we just talked about the rehabilitation of detainees, for example. It takes commitment. Not a workshop of two hours. You have to persevere, even in the event of a setback, with no guarantee of a happy ending. That's why I think it's so important to keep telling that story about my dad. Those are the values I believe in: dedication, stamina, attention, love. You can apply that to everything in life. Love is the fuel."

You often talk about your parents as if you want to keep them alive with your words.

"Because my mom and dad are the people I've loved most. With them I shared the most important moments, built the most beautiful memories. That loss is enormous. Life has been really fucking tough since they've been gone.

"That's what grabs me so much in this period. How many people have died of corona in Belgium?"

According to Google, today, on the day of the interview, the counter stands at almost 14,000 deaths.

"Fourteen thousand! Imagine how many people that has an impact on? How many people have suddenly lost their mother, father, brother, sister, best friend or neighbor? Behind those figures lie tens of thousands of poignant stories, of people who see a loved one torn from their lives. That is a mountain of unresolved grief, and far too little attention is paid to it."

Earlier during our conversation a guy had walked past coughing and maskless. It pissed Schoenaerts off: "And whining about masks or strict measures. Grow some fucking balls. Having to say goodbye to a loved one, that's the worst thing."

"Isn't that what this period teaches us? That our time here is limited? And what really counts in life: sharing moments of beauty with the people you hold most dear. All the rest is wallpaper. Having success, making movies, that's all fun. But the day you lie on your deathbed, you really don't think about the professional successes on your resume. No way."

[kiefbowl]

Hi, im 23 and my boyfriend is 44. We've been together for just over a year and have been good together, we have open communication and mutual respect. I guess I'm just wondering, in your opinion, because I respect you and value your thought processes, if its still wrong or predatory? I love him very much, he seems to love me too. Am I being naive?

Thank you for the appreciation. I’d like to put a caveat up front that I can’t know what your relationship looks like, and the only one who knows what it’s like and how healthy it is is you. Additionally, a relationship can have healthy qualities and unhealthy qualities, and good people can have a bad relationship. Healthy parts doesn’t mean the whole is good. 

No, I don’t think you’re being naive. I don’t think there’s any value judgement to attach to a 23 year old entering a relationship with a 44 year old. It does make my eyebrows raise. I find it extremely difficult to believe a 44 year old and a 23 year old have a healthy, mutually beneficial relationship. I don’t think it’s impossible for large age gaps to exist in a healthy relationships necessarily, but when it happens with someone in their 20s, that rings alarm bells to me. Your 20s are still formative years, and it can be hard to see that while you’re living them. There’s a lot of growth you’re going to do before you turn 30. Your career probably hasn’t really taken root yet, your earning potential is going to (probably) increase (maybe even very drastically at some point), you probably don’t really own a lot of stuff and the stuff you own is most likely not all that important to you or of good quality, you’re still young enough to be under your parents insurance, your credit is likely not that great (not that it’s bad, but age of credit lines is a big factor in your credit score), among other admin things that might not seem that big of a deal but do help you form an identity. When I was 23, my responsibility as a consumer was nonexistent because I was poor, at points unemployed, at points living at home...it’s only in the past few years I could start challenging myself to live up to my values and a sense of character that’s important to me as a consumer because I can move around the world more freely. It comes with money, but also career position. So that’s one aspect of being 23...

The other aspect of being 23 is you are very, very, very young, and even without a lot of money it can be very fun to be very, very, very young. It can be a lot of fun being older, too. I’m not old, by any means, but from this point in my life looking forward I’m much more excited to get older than I was at 23. At 23 I dreaded it because it felt like I was running out of time to be young. You get older and you learn to accept it and you realize how much in your life can change in a short time and you realize there’s wisdom, position, and status to gain in each decade of your life. Obviously, not every one is fortunate and not everyone is going to have increasing good fortune as they age, but regardless of what you make or do, you learn and grow as you get older, and I think it’s easier to appreciate as your enter your 30s. So don’t worry about getting older, but let me tell you 23 is FUN. 

23 was also the worst year of my life. I couldn’t afford chicken nuggets. But my friends and I were also working a crummy starbucks job that gave me almost no responsibility. I would wake up at 11, smoke weed and eat cereal, watch netflix, walk to work, work 2:30 - 11, then go out to a bar with my friends and eat cheap wings until 2 am, go home and play with my cat and go to bed literally whenever in an apartment with no furniture to take care of. I’d be off on a random weekday and grab another random friend who was off to go on day trip in their shitty car to Milwaukee for the hell of it, or go take a long walk on the beach listening to music all day, or go downtown and go to a museum on a discount day because no one was there, or ride my bike in the summer sun to nowhere in particular in the middle of the day because people were at work, and then come back home and do fuck all. Then I’d do it all again, plus steal croissants from work and drink endless coffee all day. And it didn’t matter, I could wake up the next day energized. Yes, I was stressed out, and I didn’t always appreciate the joy that can be found in that life because of it also sucked ass, but the energy and fortitude you have as a young 20 something is a beautiful thing to live through. I wouldn’t go back to that life now having the space I’ve made myself in the world, but I love thinking back to it and I’m glad it happened. I had to work really really hard to carve my little place in the world (and I’m not done yet!!), but there was a moment right before I hit the pavement to make that happen where my life felt endless, fresh, uninhibited, palpable. 23 has a different freedom than 30 for me. Money allows me to move in the world freely at 30, time allowed me to move in the world freely at 23. At 23, you can do dumb things, party, hang out, be lazy, be reckless, make quick decisions, change your mind...and it’s good, not bad. It’s learning, and it’s fun. It’s celebration, and it gives you hard lessons worth learning.

A relationship is a lot of responsibility, and it can take the place of some of that youthful freedom. That’s not always a bad thing, love can be very fulfilling. When you’re strapped for cash, it can also be financially helpful. Two 20-somethings joining forces can get each other on their feet to be independent at a time it’s a struggle to do it alone. You’re in the same boat, you have the same struggle. But a 44 year old isn’t experiencing life the same way you are. And believe me, 44 year olds know that. A litmus test to to your bf’s intentions might be how he talks about that fact. Does it ever come up? Does he speak about it freely? Does he laud it over you or do you share experiences with each other like companions?

This isn’t the only factor to consider when trying to figure out if your bf is “predatory” in your words. Who your boyfriend may be and his intentions aren’t the only thing to consider when you want to figure out if you should be in a relationship with him. Who YOU are is equally important. I don’t know a 23 year old who wasn’t different the very next year. I don’t know a 24 year old who wasn’t different the very next year. I don’t know a 25 year old who wasn’t different the very next year. Maybe that’s true for every year, but the differences between my life one year to the next between 20 - 26 were striking. I walked out on two jobs when I had nothing in my bank account simply because “fuck this”....this year I was terrified to lose my job because what about my retirement fund. I work for “the man” now when 6 years ago I caused a mass walk out at work. I’m probably not going to have a radically different life next year. That wasn’t true of my early 20s. The switch from “my life is a mess but it can be anything” to “next year I should start a will and keep care of my assets” happens quicker than you think. Is he letting you live that life right now? Is he encouraging it? Believe me, you can be a mess at any age (and it can be a fun mess, too), and you aren’t old at 30 or even 40 or honestly even 50, you’re just not as tided to things in your 20s. Is he clipping your wings to be kept, or is he letting you fly recklessly into the sun just so you can see how far is too far? You just can’t get 23 back. It’s a lot harder to crash and burn and then pop back up without a scratch after your 20s. Does he want to crash and burn with you? Will he even let you without him? Does he know if you go out into the world young and messy you might learn a lesson or two that makes won’t make him appealing to you anymore? Is his love coming from a place where he wants you to thrive by your own mistakes? Is he excited to watch you walk out the door to take on a new day blind but fearless, just so you can come home and tell him the adventure you took and how it changed you? Or does he find that childish, exhausting, unfitting? Does he want to see you grow into “his” adulthood? Does he need you to fit into his established life more than he wants to live and work beside your unestablished life? I couldn’t even date someone younger with your age difference. They would be 8. But would I tell an 8 year old not to learn to ride a bike because I can just give them a ride in my car, or would I tell them it’s worth learning even though I know they’re going to scratch their knees up? If I loved an 8 year old, I know to see them thrive they have to scratch their knees up a little and I can’t get in the way of it, or they might not learn to ride their bike to take long rides in the summer sun. 

[copperbadge]

Hi. I love your blog! I’m in the middle of a second major depressive episode (my first was in my teens) and like you were, I’m unemployed and living with my parents. I’m now on medication and getting help and applying for jobs, but no luck so far. How did you ‘turn your life around’ and how long did it take you – going from depressed to starting a successful career in the non-profit world? Any advice on how I could do the same?

Oh, Anon. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this but in no way did I turn my life around, and I definitely didn’t build a career intentionally. 

A lot of the below is general advice -- you are already doing great! -- but I figure some people who are where you are but not quite as far along could be helped by it. Thanks for the opportunity :)

So, here’s the thing: depression is the kind of mental illness that can just be with you for the rest of your life even when it’s not impacting your life. Some depression is situational and therefore (theoretically) escapable, but some of us are just never going to forge enough serotonin on a regular enough schedule. So it’s not a matter of beating depression or backing away from it, but of learning good coping mechanisms: how to recognize an episode is coming, how to keep functioning in a depressive episode, when to ask for help. 

And unfortunately while I can tell you what works for me, this is going to vary by person. Some people feel sad all the time; some people feel numb; some people feel okay but are overly impacted by minor setbacks or frustrations, or can do normal life stuff but any deviation from routine sends them into a spiral. These are just examples; there are more. My methods of coping are stuff like building lists, making sure that those lists have stuff like “communicate with friends” on them, being on specific platforms that make that communication easy, and inasmuch as I can, avoiding drama and volatile emotions. Doing the bare minimum of housework to keep myself from being MORE depressed. Making sure my work gets done so that I keep my job, even if I feel like other parts of my life might be out of control. 

And as I’ve recently mentioned, I write fiction as a stress response. If I’m not writing but I’m doing okay -- keeping my house clean, feeling good, having fun -- that’s fine. Not optimal, I like writing, but it’s fine. If I’m writing, I’m probably a little stressed, but I’m managing it. If I’m not writing AND I’m not functioning well, or I know I’m unhappy, then I know that the depression is probably worse than I think it is, and I need to go into survival mode. 

Some people need meds -- taken year round, even when you’re not depressed. There’s no shame in that and if you aren’t currently using medication, I would recommend at least investigating its use to see if it could help. [ETA: Sorry I 100% missed the part where you are on medication, but this is still useful for others so I’m leaving it in.]

So like...”how long did it take me” is a tough question to answer because I’m still in it. I will be, all my life, and once I came to accept that, I could figure out ways to keep it from devastating me. How long it took me to establish good coping mechanisms? Well, I was diagnosed at 17, which is a rough age to be when it starts happening, but I managed to survive college (barely) and I feel like I had a pretty good handle on managing it by the time I was, I guess about 25. The point at which I was unemployed and living with my parents was the absolute low point of my life, when I was 23-24, but that was compounded by external factors. As soon as I got out of my parents’ house, things improved; as soon as I had a job, even a truly shitty one, I felt like life was survivable. (A huge coping mechanism in those days was actually Netflix, back when it was a mail-you-a-DVD service, because I knew at least a few times a week I would get mail addressed to me with a nice surprise in it.) 

And the thing about being here now is -- my parents gave me three grand to get out of the house, find a place of my own, and survive 2-3 months until I could find a job. I couldn’t have done any of what I’ve done without three solid thousand dollars, and even then I got lucky. I quit my first, super shitty job (the only time I have EVER quit a job) and got a job with my last place of work literally two week before the 2008 financial crisis hit. That job happened to be a very visible if very ground-floor administrative position, and from there I was able to impress people who wanted to hire me up to the next administrative level, and from there I was promoted into the department because I showed an active and visible interest in the work they did. That was intentional, but literally nothing before it was anything other than “I need a job and this one offers health insurance.”  

Once you have a job in which advancement is possible, which again is a matter somewhat of luck, advancing is just a matter of maintaining a good work-life balance while doing good work and showing you’re interested in supporting the mission of the company. Documenting the work you do, asking for raises, asking or applying for advancement -- putting yourself forward. That’s not so hard. But that’s kind of like starting on third base and telling someone you just need to run 90 feet. You’ve got to get to third base first and for me that was a lot of luck. 

But here’s the kicker: you can’t win the lottery unless you buy a ticket. So for you, right now, waiting on that opportunity, your job is to keep yourself alive and reasonably looked-after, gather all the energy you have, and start figuring out a game plan. Whether that’s a shitty job that you agree with yourself you’ll only do for a year, or asking your parents for a huge financial leap of faith if they’re able -- three grand was a LOT for my parents but they knew it was probably going to save my life -- or applying to better jobs that could push you up the ladder. And of course we’re in a pandemic so like, fuck the world, all of this is just that much harder. But people are being hired, and people are moving into apartments, and going to therapy, and doing their best. So there’s hope, as long as you start homebrewing it first. 

The thing that has helped me the most in the last twenty years, and which I think may be most helpful and simultaneously most frustrating to you, is that I never just said “I don’t like where I am or what I’m feeling”. I started there, absolutely, but then I asked, “What can I change to stop feeling this way?”

You have to rule out “nothing” as an answer. You probably will have to sit with the question for a while, maybe even a few weeks. You may need to google some weird shit to figure it out. And maybe what you do is a stupid stop-gap like buying yourself a $1 blind box toy once a week so you can feel surprise at something again. Maybe you admit that right now you need to pass the baton and you unfollow or blacklist political activism and activists and just fill your social media with people making dumb dad jokes and posting cat pictures. Maybe that gives your brain breathing room to find more permanent solutions.

But once you get in the habit of “how can I change this”, solutions do start to appear. 

So, yeah. Truth is I worked super hard but I also got super lucky. But part of being lucky was being there when the luck finally hit. So I’m wishing you, wholeheartedly, the best of luck. 

(Also if your parents have money and aren’t assholes I can’t recommend “Make them give you a long-term loan to get on your feet” strongly enough.)

[et-lesailes]

lockdown lust

pairing: johnny storm x reader

word count: 3270

summary: video chatting with your best friend johnny during quarantine turns a bit steamy.

themes: smut

taglist: @evanstush​​, @tanyam93​​, @bval-1​​, @wonderwinchester​​, @patzammit​​, @rohaintahquil​​, @deidrashouseofpain​​, @sammyslonglostshoe​​, @jadedhillon​​, @bohemian-barbie​​, @whysparker​​, @sebastian-i-stan​​, @sebabestianstan101​​, @lille-kattunge​​, @teller258316​​, @peach-acid​​, @allsortsofinterests​​, @xoxabs88xox​​, @heyiamthatbitch​​, @cptn-sgrogers​​, @heyyouwiththeassbutt​​, @bangtan-serendipity​​, @troublermalik​​, @beardburnsupersoldiers​​, @bookish-shristi​​, @kind-sober-fullydressed​​,  @gingerninjaprincess16​​, @straightforwardly​​,  @denisemarieangelina​​,  @frencchfries​​, @xlanawriter​​, @littlemoistcarrot​​, @pottxrwolff​​, @arianatheangelworld​​, @ifuseekamyevans​​, @southerngracela​​, @nsfwsebbie​​, @rororo06​​, @savemesteeb​​, @raveviolet​​, @inactivewhore​​, @hurricanerinwrites​​, @captainamerica-is-bae​​, @shaddixlife​​, @tessa-bl​​, @marvelouspottering​​, @pppsssyyyccchhhiiiccc​​, @thegetawaywriter​​, @dwights-new-plague​​​, @rynabarnesrogers​​​, @fckdeusername​​​

notes: man i wish my quarantine was going like this. graphic creds go to the @thewritingdoll​, also patreon saw this first! click here to join :)

You’re laying on your side on your bed, dressed in a simple tank top and shorts with your sports bra just barely peeking out from either side of your shirt, clicking through YouTube video after YouTube video on your laptop. Ever since being unemployed thanks to the pandemic, each day is the same as the previous. Wake up, eat breakfast, watch TV, play some video games, eat lunch, read, try and teach yourself a new language, sit outside on the deck for a bit, eat dinner… you’re slowly going crazy not having anything productive to do, but it at least helps being able to chat with your friends via FaceTime and Zoom. It’s rather depressing being alone and stuck at home, but one of your best friends in particular manages to help quite a lot. Even though Johnny’s going just as crazy as you are, he’s still his fun loving, goofy, and energetic self, and it’s safe to say he knows how to cheer you up whenever you’re feeling the quarantine blues.

A notification pops up on your screen indicating that he’s video calling you, and you gladly answer. “Hey there, gorgeous.” He greets you in his typical flirtatious fashion- as usual, he’s shirtless (you’re assuming also only in underwear) and lounging back in his bed with a beer in one hand. “Fuck, I’m so bored. What are you up to?” You laugh softly, sighing as you look at the YouTube videos on the side of your screen. “Literally nothing. Honestly considering just going to sleep because I have nothing else to do.” 

“You know what I miss?” he suddenly speaks up rather than responding to you, taking a swig of his beer. “Sex. No, I miss even just touching a girl. Like even if it’s a fucking handshake. I’m starting to think I should have just picked a quarantine girlfriend so I could get some action.” You blink and laugh, shaking your head to yourself though you can’t help but admit you understand the feeling. “I’m not gonna lie, I definitely miss the feeling of having someone in the bed with me.” You don’t have a boyfriend, but you did sometimes have a fling every now and then. As Johnny said, though, it’s not just about sex. You simply miss the comforting, reassuring feeling of having a male’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close to his body in his slumber. 

“Yeah? So have you been masturbating a lot?” he asks bluntly, and you laugh; you and Johnny are extremely close, and so questions like these never throw you off or make you uncomfortable. “Kind of, yeah, but I’m sure nowhere near as much as you.” You tease with a smirk, and he snickers in return. “Touche, darling. I can’t help it, okay? I have a high sex drive.” He suddenly arches a brow, lifting his drink up slightly. “Hello, why am I the only one drinking? Go get some alcohol, c’mon!” You roll your eyes fondly at his severe ADD, but nod your head. “Alright, alright, be right back.”

You return a few moments later with a glass of wine, settling into your previous position laying on your side and propped up on your elbow, sipping from your glass. “Happy now?” you ask, and he scoffs playfully. “Wine? What are you, forty?” You blink and laugh loudly, making a face. “Beer makes my stomach feel weird! It’s all… carby or whatever.” He hums thoughtfully before reaching out of the frame to pick up something- a bottle of liquor. “Okay, what about shots?”

You look at him in amusement and disbelief, but honestly, you actually feel a little sympathy for him. He just wants company; he’s an incredibly social guy who absolutely loves going out, clubbing, dancing, and meeting new people- of course he just wants a drinking buddy right now. “Alright, alright, I literally just settled down but I’ll get out of bed again just for you.” You wrinkle your nose at him and he cheers happily, pumping his fist in the air. “Hell yeah, that’s my girl! Hurry now before my buzz dies down.” You chuckle softly and get up again, setting your wine down and going back to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of fruit flavored rum. It’s probably going to be a long night if Johnny’s this hyped up already, but you’re actually looking forward to it. You really do love talking to him, especially during this period of time.

An hour flies by without you even realizing it. You’ve been drinking with Johnny the whole time, laughing and chatting and joking around with each other as you usually do; there’s no one who can make you smile as much as he does. His enthusiasm and rowdiness is contagious- you’ve felt so groggy and lazy during these lockdown days, but he always knows how to snap you right back. 

“Hey, Y/N.” Johnny reaches over to grab another can of beer from the table and you catch even more of a view of his rippling abs. “Yeah?” you ask, wondering just how much you’ve drank to actually be checking Johnny out. You can acknowledge he’s an attractive guy, but he’s only been a friend to you all this time- for some reason, you never really entertained the thought of anything more. Perhaps because you’ve seen the way he is with women; not necessarily bad or toxic, but not exactly boyfriend material either. 

“Let’s play a game.” He suggests, giving you a little smirk. “How about Never Have I Ever?” You blink but smile, nodding your head. “Alright, sure. Wanna start?” He suddenly lifts a hand, shaking his head. “Uh uh uh, hold on. This version of the game has a catch.” He downs the rest of his beer before wiping his lips with the back of his hand, grinning at you mischievously. “For every single thing you have done, you have to take off an article of clothing.” 

“What? You know, like, everything I’ve done!” you argue in amusement, and he grins, wiggling his eyebrows. “And you know everything I’ve done. So? C’mon, it’ll be fun. But we can’t do stupid stuff, like “Never have I ever kissed a girl” or “watched hardcore porn”. It has to be more specific.”

You roll your eyes but find yourself agreeing. “Okay. Fine. Shouldn’t you, like, maybe put on clothes first though? You know, so you actually have something to take off?” He blinks and looks down at his half naked body before laughing loudly. “Oh yeah, good point!” You watch as he stands up, eyes directly met with his boxers as he goes to grab a shirt, pants, and even socks and a watch. “You are ridiculous,” you remark, taking a sip of your wine though giggling nonetheless. As always, he knows just how to make you laugh. 

“Alright, I’ll start.” Johnny gets himself comfortable again, dressed in a simple wifebeater and basketball shorts. “Never have I ever… gotten so drunk as a freshman at a college party that I ended up making my really handsome best friend carry me all the way back to my dorm.” You blink and laugh loudly making a face, whining playfully, “Johnny! God, you didn’t even go to school there, why were you there anyways?”

“To carry your ass back home. Now go on, get stripping.” You scoff but take off your tank top, revealing your patterned sports bra underneath. You see him staring and for some reason, you actually feel… excited. This has to be the alcohol, right? You clear your throat, tossing the top aside. “My turn. Never have I ever had sex with someone new five minutes after breaking up with my significant other.” You fire bluntly, the corner of your lips tugging upwards. He laughs, shaking his head to himself. “In my defense, we had only been dating for two weeks, and she went psycho on me. You remember! Right?”

“Just take off the shirt, Johnny.” You laugh, and he arches a brow, playfully retorting, “Wow, bossy. I like it, baby.” He lifts off the wifebeater revealing his abs once again, and you force yourself not to look at them- you know he’d make a comment otherwise. “If we’re going to bring sexcapades into this,” he murmurs thoughtfully, “never have I ever been caught hooking up in a movie theater.” You immediately blush, hiding your face. “Why did I ever tell you about that? It was barely hooking up, it was just making out! And you’ve done that several times at the movies, there’s no way you haven’t.”

“I have, but I’ve never been caught.” He winks and nods towards you. “So, the bra?” You roll your eyes and shake your head, shifting yourself so you’re sitting up on your knees to wiggle out of your shorts. You’re thankful you at least put on some cute underwear today, looking down at the sky blue material with little tiny icons of penguins on it. Johnny shamelessly looks too, chuckling softly. “Wow. Those are fucking precious.” He barely bites on his lip though as he keeps staring, and you feel yourself blushing deeper, quickly settling yourself back down again. 

It’s obvious where this game’s heading. Both of you know it. You don’t know if it’s because of the alcohol, or the fact that you’re just extremely sex deprived, but you’re completely fine with how this night will end. It’s just a fun little game. Nothing wrong with that.

“My turn.” You snap him out of whatever daydream is running through his head, raising an eyebrow. “Never have I ever dated a freaking supermodel.”

“Is that jealousy I hear in your voice, Y/N?” he teases, but easily kicks off his basketball shorts. “No. Also why aren’t you just taking off your socks and the watch first?” you ask, and he grins, shrugging playfully. “I’m perfectly fine with just chilling with my dick out wearing nothing but a few accessories. What’s wrong with that?” You shake your head to yourself, though you can’t help but find the thought hilarious. How this boy became so bold and confident, you have no idea, but you have to admit it’s even a bit inspirational at times.

“Okay,” Johnny begins, taking a drink of his beer. He looks more excited now, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Never have I ever had sex with a long term significant other.” You blink and make a soft incredulous noise. “You’ve never even had a long term significant other!”

“That’s right, baby girl! Which is it gonna be, the bra or the panties?” 

“Neither.” You smirk and bring your feet into view, wiggling your toes in the fuzzy socks you had been wearing. “I’m guessing someone here doesn’t have a foot fetish at least, because you didn’t even notice that I’m wearing socks.” Johnny groans in playful annoyance as you take them off, crossing his arms. “Fine, you got me there. Your turn.”

You have to pause for a second. Not to think of what you’re going to say- God, you know Johnny better than he does, you could write a book of all the bullshit he pulls. No, you have to pause because this is where things are going to start getting intense. You’re going to see your best friend naked, and he’s going to see you naked. Both of you are horny out of your minds. Both of you are intoxicated. Do you really want to go through with this? 

“Hello? You there?” he asks impatiently, in classic Johnny fashion. You swear the boy has the attention span of a turkey.

“Never have I ever had a wet dream about my best friend.” You suddenly speak, looking at him intently- he looks at you in surprise for a few moments, but before he can move, you’re suddenly the one slowly lifting your sports bra up and over your head, your breasts moving up with it before lightly bouncing down.

He’s completely speechless, his eyes on your chest as if he’s never seen boobs before, his facial expression getting more and more serious from shock. “Holy…” he finally mumbles, nibbling on his lip. You’ve never seen him look so hungry, so full of desire, and it’s only turning you on. There’s a certain thrill and adrenaline rush that comes with getting intimate with someone you’re “not supposed” to, and you’re definitely feeling that buzz right now. 

“Well?” you ask softly, tilting your head to one side. “I have. Have you?” You’re taking a big chance here, but considering what a sleazeball Johnny can be, you’re certain it’s had to have happened at least once. He looks at you for a few moments before slowly smirking, moving his hands down…

… only to take off his socks. Your expression is one of complete disbelief as you’re about to ask him if he’s actually serious, but then he goes to take off his watch. After that, he moves his hands to the hem of his boxers and pushes them down- his erection jumps up, tall and thick, and you can feel the heat in your core simply from looking at it. He lounges back against his headboard, completely nude, his chest visibly heaving slightly from excitement.

You clear your throat trying not to be too obvious about staring at it. “Why’d you… um… why did you take more than one thing off?”

He leans over and he’s out of the frame for a second. You hear the sound of hands rubbing together. Lotion. “Because I’ve had more than one wet dream.” He answers simply upon returning, keeping his eyes on you as he slowly wraps his hand around his cock. “Do you want to hear about one?” You widen your eyes, now only paying attention to this shaft at this point, watching him pump himself slowly. Fuck, you’re so turned on right now. “Yes,” you breathe out, starting to shift uncomfortably as you subconsciously rub your thighs together.

“In the dream you were dating that dumb ex of yours. I can’t even remember his fucking name anymore. The one I hated, you know who I’m talking about.” Johnny begins, eyes briefly roaming your body on his screen. “I came over one day and he was out somewhere. You were wearing this sexy ass lingerie, to surprise him when he got back. When I walked in, you just immediately jumped up on me without realizing it was me- when you did, you looked all shocked, but I just kept holding you in my arms.” He breathes heavier, starting to pump faster. “We start kissing. Making out. My tongue’s practically down your fucking throat, my hands squeezing your perfect ass, I bring you into the bedroom.”

Your cheeks feel flushed and your own breaths are becoming a little more uneven, completely focused on everything he’s saying. “Then what?” you whisper; you don’t even realize your hand is moving to your breast. He lets out a groan simply from watching you, continuing, “I push you down on your hands and knees on the bed and slap your ass so hard, it leaves a mark. I tell you that you belong to me now, and that I don’t care if your boyfriend has to watch us fuck for me to prove that.” He stares at you as you start massaging your breast, watching in awe as your fingers pinch your nipple ever-so-slightly. “Fuck, you like this, don’t you baby girl? After that, I finger fuck you over and over again, I make you cum so goddamn many times. You’re fucking screaming by the end of it, you’re still on your hands and knees like a good girl, your face is against the mattress and your perky little butt’s up in the air for me. You fucking love every second of it.” He grits his teeth slightly as he keeps pumping, eyes dark with lust. “Then you want to know what happens next?”

“Y-yes, yes Johnny, please,” you practically moan, now practically trying to squeeze your thighs together to relieve the frustration. “Then take off your panties,” he suddenly demands, and you instantly obey, wiggling them off your legs. “Sit up so I can see your pussy,” he growls huskily. You adjust the laptop so that it’s in front of you, sitting and leaning back with your legs spread so that your bare entrance is in view, resting yourself on your elbows breathlessly. “I’m so fucking wet, Johnny,” you whine, moving your hand down your torso and using your fingers to start rubbing yourself. “Please, please keep going…”

“God damn,” he groans deeply, the mere noise in itself making you shiver in pleasure. “After I have you cumming over and over again, I grab your hair and thrust inside you, holding your ass and smacking it whenever I fucking want.” You let out a moan as you push one finger inside, tilting your head back. “Your tight little pussy felt so fucking good around me, babe. I had my big dick poking out your goddamn belly from how hard and deep I fucked you. I was tugging your hair, choking you, spanking you, playing with those perfect tits- you made the perfect little fuckdoll, so obedient, so damn needy.” He smirks, hand moving up and down faster, staring at you play with yourself as he murmurs, “Just like how you are now, hm?”

“Fuck, Johnny,” you whine breathlessly, pushing another finger in and pumping even faster. “I need you right now, o-oh… oh my God. I need your big dick inside me right fucking now…”

“Holy shit, Y/N,” he groans just from hearing you, rolling his neck to one side and shutting his eyes, head tilted upwards. “Would you cum all over my dick, just like you did in my dream?” You gasp, nodding immediately, lips parted and cheeks pink. “Yes! Yes… fuck… I want you to cum inside me, too…” He grins wider, chest heaving as he watches you weakly, hand working his long length intensely. “I can definitely do that, baby girl… o-ooh fuck, I’m close… I’m going to fucking cum right now…!”

“Me too!” you cry out, leaning against the headboard and rubbing hard; it’s not long before Johnny gets a view of you releasing, and the sight is enough to set him off with a loud groan- you can’t help but stare at how much he cums, wishing you could be there to taste all of it. 

“God damn.” He slowly exhales, leaning back entirely. “That was… wow. I fucking needed that.” He barely straightens up to grab a tissue from his nightstand, cleaning his mess but glancing up at you breathing heavily. “And especially with you. You’re so hot, Y/N, I’ve wanted to fuck you ever since I met you.” You widen your eyes surprised, trying to catch your breath as you stare at him. “What? Really…? I… I didn’t think you saw me like that, we were always just such… best friends.”

“Yeah. That’s why I didn’t do anything.” He admits, carelessly tossing the tissue aside, but you’re too shocked to even show any disgust. “You’re the only girl friend I’ve had. I didn’t want to treat you like everyone else. But fuck, it’s been hard.” He pauses and nods towards his length, “This has been too, every time I’m around you.”

Despite the otherwise serious conversation, you can’t help but laugh, even feeling somewhat flattered. You move to sit more comfortably, biting your lip. “Well then,” you mumble tilting your head, “maybe on the next video call I can tell you about my dream…”

[unloved-cadillac]

The Wrath of Two Worlds. (Levi x Reader Multi-Chapter)

Set in the ancient times of Japan, where Samurai and war existed, Emperor Smith of Paradis alongside his guards, General Ackerman and Lieutenant L/n, were met by Emperor Zeke of Marley. But things take a turn when Zeke demands things that weren't in his favor.

Chapter One:

———————————————————————

Cherry blossoms. They were always so beautiful. So calm and elegant and when they fell, it showed that even the strongest could fall.

Samurai warriors were assigned to protect the Emperor of Paradis. The Ackerman name was known throughout the country since they were the strongest clan and were said to be soldiers sent by God to protect the Royals.

The General of the Samurai Army, Levi Ackerman, was the strongest soldier in Japan. Wars in Paradis were won because of his leadership and strength. Levi was the right hand of Emperor Erwin with his second in command, Y/n L/n. The L/n family was also a name known everywhere. But they mostly worked undercover as ninjas for most of their lives, but Y/n was the first in her family to work in the army and become a Samurai. Levi, Erwin and her were as close as could be since they did grow up together. Levi and Y/n decided to join the army since Erwin was in line for the throne and after his father had passed, Erwin chose them to be his guards.

But Levi and Y/n were closer with each other. Mostly because they trained together and after Erwin left their little group, Levi and Y/n only had each other. They trusted each other as no other and battles fought together were ones that went down in the history of Japan.

Training in the grounds, Y/n and Levi sparred. They pushed each other to their limits and made sure each other were at the top of their game. Levi and Y/n sword fought, and Levi disarmed Y/n and pointed his wooden sword to her throat. “You’re getting slow,” he pants out and she chuckles. “No fair, Ackerman,” she says and smiles. Levi pulls back and picks up her sword. As they were about to spar again, a messenger arrived with a notice. “General Ackerman, Lieutenant L/n,” he bows to them, “The King summons you to the throne room,” he begins reading, “Emperor Zeke is visiting the kingdom for unknown reasons. Please be here at 7 pm to prepare. Emperor Smith.” The messenger finishes and Levi and Y/n share a look. “Thanks. We’ll be there.” Y/n says and the messenger bows and leaves the pair. “Zeke? What could he want?” Y/n asks Levi. “Beats me. That fucked better not cause shit like how I heard he does in his kingdom. Come on. I’m sure we can get one more match in before we go,” Levi says and throws Y/n’s wooden sword to her. She smirks and gets into her battle stance. “You’re on.”

After cleaning up, Y/n and Levi make their way to Erwin’s throne room. It was a big, open room with many paintings of his ancestors and previous rulers. Erwin was the Emperor that was hardly in the palace. He was always either in the garden or with his people, but he never left without his two warriors with him. He wanted to help his kingdom to flourish and to do that he wanted everyone to be sufficiently stable and made the experienced, unemployed people get jobs, fired sabotages and overall, kept the peace in the kingdom.

Levi and Y/n walked into the room, being greeted by guards and servants in the way. When they saw Erwin walking up and down the room, they knew something was wrong. “Emperor,” Levi and Y/n say in unison and bow down. “You summoned?” Erwin looks at his two closest friends and clears his throat. “Levi. Y/n. I’m sure you heard. Zeke is coming here. Tomorrow.” He says and Levi and Y/n wake up, looking at their friend. “We shall make sure everything is prepared for his arrival, sir,” Y/n says. “It’s not that. I don’t know what he wants. He had some business with my father but it didn’t concern me. So, I want the both of you here with me when he arrives. I don’t trust him nor that I like him. I’ve read up everything I had on Zeke and he is a horrible person.” Erwin continues and sighs. “But I can’t judge him based on other people's words. But I’m going to trust my instincts in not trusting him. So the both of you, I order you to be here,” Erwin looks at the pair and they nod. “Yes, sir.”

~~~~~

“Oh my god! Are we there yet?!” A young girl shouts while climbing on Zeke. “Gabi. Hang in for a second. Almost there.” He assures her and she pouts. “I’m hungry.” She complains and Zeke chuckles. “Lord Zeke. T-minus 10 minutes to Paradis,” Zeke’s main man, Reiner, says from his horse outside his carriage.

“Hear that, Gabi? 10 minutes. We’ll have what we want soon..”

~~~~~

The palace was lively and busy. Many people walked up and down, cleaning, preparing food. Levi walked around the garden to go to the cherry blossom tree that he and Y/n go to relax. So he wasn’t shocked when he saw her sitting there, napping. He smiles to himself and makes his way to sit next to her. Keeping his two katanas on his lap he closes his eyes and exhales. “Why do you breathe so loud?” Y/n asks without looking at him. “Sorry for breathing, I guess.” He responds, making her giggle. “We haven’t been here in a while, huh?” Y/n asks him and he hums. “We’ve been too busy to relax,” Levi says and opens his eyes to look at her. Her eyes were still closed, with her short hair opened falling on her face. Levi quietly moves to move her hair behind her ear. He sees her smile and Y/n turns her head to look at him, leaning into his hand. “When will we marry, Y/n?” Levi asks her and she sighs holding his hand. “I don’t know, Levi. We still need to tell Erwin.” She responds. “I’m going to tell him. After Zeke leaves. Just the three of us, like when we were young. I’m tired of hiding.” Levi says and looks at the ground. “Levi, I-..” “EMPEROR ZEKE HAS ARRIVED! EMPEROR ZEKE HAS ARRIVED!” The chant startled Y/n and Levi. They quickly woke up, fixed their uniforms and walked to the gates to accompany Erwin. Y/n ties her hair back and holds her katanas while Levi gathers his hair and ties it up, showing his undercut and head tattoos. The guards were all in awe of Ackerman and L/n, the two samurai that should never be messed with.

With Levi on Erwins right and Y/n on his left, the gates opened and revealed a carriage, carried by three men on either side and a horse with a soldier too. When the carrier settled in the middle of the pathway, people murmured and tried looking into it. To see who was going to pop out. The one soldier hopped out of his horse and cleared his throat. “Presenting, Emperor Zeke of Marley!” When the cloth was moved, a tall man with dirty blond hair stood up and looked around. Everyone was dead silent. They didn’t know what to expect or say because his aura was so...weird. Erwin, Levi and Y/n looked at him. Levi and Y/n looked at each other behind Erwin’s back and furrowed their eyebrows. Zeke had picked up on the tension and bent down to pick up Gabi. When he did and Gabi cuddled into his neck, the whole crowd went “Awww”. Zeke walked up the stairs with Reiner and his other guard, Porco, Erwin stepped forward. “Emperor Smith. How lovely to see you,” Zeke charms and Erwin smiles. “Emperor Zeke. Likewise. Please,” Erwin motions inside his palace. The two emperors walk in the palace which left the four samurai face-to-face with each other.

“I’m Reiner, Zeke’s right hand. This is Porco.” Reiner says and Levi and Y/n nod in acknowledgement. “I’m General Ackerman and this is Lieutenant L/n.” Levi introduces them. “A girl Samurai? How ridiculous.” Porco snickers and Y/n scoffs, not feeling the need to entertain his sexist remarks. “Guys! Come in! This place is amazing!” Zeke excitedly says, tearing the two pairs away. Reiner and Porco walked past Levi and Y/n and walked inside. Levi looks at Y/n to see her face turned into a bull face. She was a ticking time bomb now.

“She’s very cute.” Erwin compliments on Gabi. “Oh thank you,” Zeke smiles, “She’s my angel. Little sis can’t go anywhere without her big brothers.” “Brothers?” Erwin asks. “You see that man right there?” Zeke points to Reiner. “That’s my brother. He’s a great samurai. One of the best. But you already knew that” Zeke brags to Erwin. All the humble emperor did was nod and smile. He didn’t need to prove anything to this outsider. He had an Ackerman and a L/n with him. That already spoke volumes. “Well, let’s go to our dining room while we discuss why you’re here. I hope you like Kabayaki.” Erwin says and Gabi wakes up at the sound of it. “Onii-chan?” She cutely calls out to Zeke. “Funny how you wake up to the sound of food, Gabi,” Zeke says and Erwin looks at Gabi. She was so small and cute, nothing like her brother. “Hungry.” She says groggily and Zeke laughs loudly, startling Levi and Y/n. “Let’s eat, I guess,” Zeke says.

Erwin and Zeke with Gabi went to the dining hall and sat around the round table in the middle of the room. It was filled with delicacies that Erwin had told the kitchen to prepare the best meals for the visitors. Gabi sat on Zeke’s lap while his men stood behind him. Erwin sat across from Zeke, with Levi and Y/n behind him. Gabi begins eating while Erwin and Zeke look at each other. The whole room was silent apart from Gabi’s munches and the sound of cutlery hitting plates. Levi and Y/n had their hands behind their back, but they were ready to fight if need be. So was Reiner and Porco.

“So, let’s cut to business, shall we?” Zeke says while drinking his sake. “Please,” Erwin says. “Your father promised me 100 million pieces of gold that were here before you took over or better yet before he died. I’m here to collect that gold,” Zeke explains and Erwin tilts his head. “Any documentation to prove it?” Erwin asks, smoothly. Before becoming the emperor, Erwin was told by his father to go through old scrolls and documents so he could understand what to expect and do as Emperor. There were dealings that his father made with other Lords, which Erwin had solved in his first week as The New Emperor. So, Zeke was spewing bullshit.

“There was no documentation. It was a promise. A deal. I told your father that if he didn’t give me his promised gold pieces, I will force my hand and take it. That obviously made him flinch and I almost made him beg for me to not do it,” Zeke says while fixing his glasses. Erwin scoffs then chuckles. Zeke suddenly looks at him as well as Reiner and Porco. “How dare you?!” Zeke bangs his fist on the table which made Levi and Y/n grab the handle of their swords. “I’m sorry, Lord Zeke. But do you expect me to believe that? A man’s word means nothing when there’s no written agreement and especially doesn’t mean anything since he’s dead. All of the other Lords that my father was in debt to, I went and settled it all. And, frankly, I haven’t even heard of you before I found out you were coming here. But I did read up on you, ruler of Marley after your parents mysteriously disappeared and left you the throne.” Zeke suddenly stands up, pushing Gabi off of him and Levi steps forward but Erwin stops him. “You will regret this. I guarantee it.” Erwin smiles and wakes up. “Zeke, all I’m saying is: there’s no need to lie. If you’re a little broke, I’ll be more than happy to help, just ask. But,” Erwin motions to the door, “if you ever come into my home and disrespect my father by lying again, I guarantee that you will regret it.” Erwin growls and Zeke storms off with his guards carrying Gabi. Levi and Y/n watch them leave as many people did as well. Zeke was mad. He was really mad. Before leaving he turned and looked back at Erwin. “I’m giving you one last chance, Emperor! Give me what I want and nothing needs to happen!” Zeke shouts making everyone look at Erwin. He stayed quiet but his silence said one thing: no.

Zeke scoffed and went inside his carriage with Gabi. He was lifted and carried out of the gates of Paradis and hopefully, wouldn’t dare come back. Erwin sighs and his guards look at him. “What is it, Emperor? Something wrong?” Levi asks and Erwin looks up at the grey sky. “Yes. Something is wrong.”

———————————————————————

🖤🤍Thanks for reading🤍🖤

-Caddy.

[mostlycompetentwriter]

On Track

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Lee Minho

Genre: Married Life AU, Romance

Warnings: Smut and Language

Word Count: 11K

Summary: Despite her reputation, Y/N is considered one of the very best agents in the music industry. Of course, it doesn’t help that she married one of her clients---notoriously stubborn and arrogant Lee Minho AKA the extremely talented Lee Know whose silky voice and amazing choreographies appeal to an enormous fan-base. A pop singer who prefers to work alone, Y/N usually obliges Minho’s preferences...until her boss demands that he collaborate with the up-and-coming and multi-talented trio, 3racha.

Well, nobody ever said that married life is easy.

For: @hwngjn​

There’s a certain decorum involved with the management of arrogant pop singers who think the entire world revolves around their singular existence. In my experience, if you want to tame these wild inclinations, then it’s best to do one of the three things: 1) leave the company ASAP with a two-week notice and a heartfelt plea for a good recommendation, 2) tolerate the existence of this pop singer and hope that he matures with age, or 3) marry this pop singer because you fell in love without understanding the fraternization clause of your contract. 

Allow me to elaborate: options one and two will leave you with enough room to continue rising through the ranks without much conflict with upper management. You see, I have firsthand knowledge because I lived through the ensuing outcomes, leaving my first job at the tender age of 23 with very little knowledge and then arduously suffering at my next position with a female artist who insisted on testing my patience. But then again, if you choose to skip options one and two and pursue option three, then you better learn to live with the consequences because it will bring the most long-term effects.

Let me start from here because, for the most part, the consequences for me were fairly minimal. The record company was, of course, incensed when they found out about my unauthorized affair. Unfortunately, Minho liked to brag about the things he cherished, and he made no secret of our relationship outside of the company. I knew it was only a matter of time before the issue was brought to the attention of Mr. Park, the company’s CEO and head producer. 

I can still remember sitting in his big office, ignoring the lingering smell of smoke, while Mr. Park shoved my management contract in my face. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked, to which I had no response other than my weakness for Minho’s cunning smile. “You’re done here,” he announced and my heart broke in my chest. 

Fortunately, before I could finish packing my belongings on the same afternoon, Minho had appeared at my desk with a very unhappy Mr. Park trailing behind him with an intense scowl. “Tell her,” Minho growled.

“Y/N,” he sighed. “You’ve been reinstated. Mr. Lee made a convincing argument on your behalf. Apparently, he can’t possibly work here and renew his contract without you as his manager.”

I remember glaring at Minho for his intervention, since our impromptu marriage was entirely his fault. “Thank you, sir.”

Thereafter, I was determined to do the best job I could as famed singer Lee Know’s manager, even if it meant facing scrutiny from jealous fans or bowing my head when I faced another agent in the hallways. I suppose I could deal with their scrutiny because it was better than the alternative of finding myself lounging away in Minho’s expensive condo unemployed and ruined because of my reputation. Even so, I was walking on thin glass everyday, and Minho continued to make things hard by insisting that he didn’t need to follow the rules, especially since he insisted on some one-sided feud with Mr. Park. 

For example, today Minho was scheduled for an interview with a very distinguished magazine, but my husband had decided to prioritize his never ceasing libido over regular responsibilities. “Hold still,” Minho said, smirking against the side of my neck while his hands made quick work of my skirt and panties, shoving them harshly down my legs to make room for his greedy touches. Inhibited access to the heat between my legs, presented to him in just the way he liked, meant that his fingers were currently teasing the swollen folds of my labia while I fell apart at the seams. 

I could tell that Minho wanted to take his time, but one glance at my wristwatch told me that we weren’t allowed such liberties today. “No, sir,” I said, reaching behind me to scratch my nails along his forearm. “You have an interview in ten minutes!”

“Relax,” he said, kissing delicately down the individual knobs of my spine. “I missed you today.”

“How romantic,” I deadpanned. “Can you hurry before the agency sends someone to look for us?”

As I said before, Minho was never the type to follow clear instructions, and he didn’t like the fact that his agency was rather strict when it came to scheduling. He liked to spite the men upstairs whenever an opportunity arose, such as prolonging needless foreplay when I was already dripping down my thighs because of his ministrations. I reached behind me for his belt, attempting to undo the zipper and release the erection straining the material.

“What’s your hurry, sweetheart?” he purred, knocking away my hand. 

“My job as your manager,” I returned, fervently trying to hasten our unexpected intimacy. 

“Well, as your favorite client, I suggest you bend over for me so I can fuck this little pussy.”

His words went straight to the tight coil offering no resistance the longer Minho continued to speak dirty words into my ears. “Did you lock the door?”

“Why? Are you expecting someone?”

I frowned, ready to offer a snarky retort before the words were wiped clean from my head when I felt the tip of his cock sink into my awaiting heat. “What was that, sweetheart?” he asked and I moaned loudly because he was suddenly intense with his movements, leaving no room to gather my bearings before he was fucking at a harsh pace.

Actually, in hindsight, I should’ve seen this coming when I met Minho in my office for the very first time. He walked in wearing a loose-fitting tank top and tight skinny jeans like he was attending a fraternity party instead of a company meeting. Minho’s steps were completely assured, sunglasses framing his face perfectly and standing out against the smooth tone of his skin. “Y/N?” he asked with a smirk.

“Miss Y/L/N,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “The agency assigned you to my care.”

“Really?” Minho asked, cocksure and smiling bright as he made himself comfortable on my futon without permission. “Miss, you say?”

“We go by professional titles, Mr. Lee,” I said, glaring at him from behind my computer screen. 

“Sure,” he dismissed, reaching for the flower vase on my coffee table. “How does this work exactly? You do whatever I ask, right?”

“Put the vase down and pay attention.”

Minho’s smile vanished at my tone. “What did you say?”

“Mr. Lee, the agency forewarned me about your...behavior. I must assure you that it won’t be tolerated because my job is to make sure that you do everything outlined in your contract. I’m sure you didn’t bother taking the time to read it, but there are certain things the company expects of you other than posting to your Twitter at 3:00 AM in the morning.”

I took a deep breath, satisfied that he appeared to be listening. “For example, the company expects your first album release this October. It’s my job to make sure you attend all recording sessions. Furthermore, promotions will be anticipated leading to the album’s delivery to applicable streaming platforms. That means interviews, photoshoots, award shows, and radio performances. Please understand that I’m one of the very best this agency has to offer, which means my clients demonstrate respect and high aptitude for their work and how it reflects on the company. From the moment you first stepped through that door, I knew that you lacked both of those capabilities.”

I stood up from my desk, walking around to the front to regard the man who suddenly found it difficult to look at me. “Here’s a warning, Mr. Lee. If you fail to adhere to my standards, then I won’t hesitate to ask the company to find you a new manager, understand?”

Minho scoffed, snatching his sunglasses away before nodding his head. “Fine.”

Satisfied, I reached behind me for the manila folder I prepared for his arrival. “Now, let’s review your schedule.”

Of course, that was two years ago and despite the whirlwind of mischievousness that encapsulated Minho, including several scandals, an endless barrage of paparazzi, and several intense arguments with upper management, I wouldn’t trade our relationship for anything else in the world. You see, I never counted on falling in love with an idol singer, but he managed to charm his way into my good graces with an irresistible smile and warm personality masked beneath his arrogant facade of indifference. He always brought a smile to my face, even in the midst of an intense orgasm bent over my desk as his cock hit deep inside. 

He fingers wrapped around my wrist, dragging my watch into his line of vision. “Two minutes, Y/N.”

I groaned in complaint, wondering how someone who graduated college with a flawless 4.0 GPA continuously broke company rules on a daily basis.

The following morning, I found myself crushed between several executives for an undisclosed company meeting. “Everyone!” Mr. Park announced. “I have exciting news for this year’s Christmas theme.”

A chorus of groans greeted his words. “Sir, I thought we were leaving the decision for the talent?” another agent spoke up.

“Yes, but I think this will work better for our core demographics,” Mr. Park said. “Y/N!”

I sat up straighter, attempting to look more alert than I felt inside. Unfortunately, Minho had kept me up all night in the small recording studio he built in our shared condo, asking me for continuous feedback on his latest project. “Sir?”

“Mr. Lee gave us a very interesting demo last week for a recent project.”

“Oh?”

“I’d like to make it a collaboration effort with our talent,” Mr. Park said and my heart seized in my chest because I knew firsthand just how much Minho despised working with other people. “3racha have landed their first platinum album. We need to capitalize on their success!”

“You want a collaboration between 3racha and Minho?” I asked, swallowing hard at the idea of telling my husband. 

“Exactly,” Mr. Park said with a smile. “For the music video, I was thinking we could also invite Hwang Hyunjin and Lee Felix to choreograph something for the project.”

“How...exciting?” I offered, cringing at my tone. Thankfully, Mr. Park was already addressing 3racha’s manager while I stared at my empty coffee mug and wondering if I would need more caffeine to survive.

Afterwards, Mr. Park adjourned our meeting and I returned to my office to find Minho waiting for me perched on the edge of my desk. “Sweetheart,” he greeted me, pulling me in by my waist to press a welcoming kiss to my pout. “You seem worried?”

I leaned back enough to meet his gaze. “You better promise me that you won’t get upset and scream.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “When have I ever done that?”

A million scenarios filtered through my mind before I decided to leave those memories in the past. “I just finished a company meeting.”

“Oh yeah?” he nodded, playing with the necklace resting against my collarbone. “What happened?”

I took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “Mr. Park had an... interesting suggestion.”

Minho glanced up and narrowed his eyes. “This doesn’t sound good.”

“He wants a collaboration,” I said, deciding to go for the killing blow before I could lose any more of my fading confidence. “The new demo you played for the company. He wants you to work with 3racha.”

Minho was quiet for a moment before he chuckled. “Really? Well, I don’t think so, sweetheart. You know how I feel about those things.”

I released an unsteady exhale. “It might be an opportunity?”

He shook his head. “You just march your cute little ass back into Park’s office and tell him I’m not interested.”

I groaned, pulling out of Minho’s arms to walk around my desk. “I have no power to tell Mr. Park anything.”

“Why not? You’re my manager!”

“Yeah, but he’s the head producer and owner,” I remarked, offering him an unimpressed look as I sat down to unlock my computer. “Besides, I think it’s a cool idea for the fans.”

Minho frowned. “Fuck, if I’m collaborating with anyone, then it’s gonna be Sam Smith or Post Malone.”

“As likely as that sounds,” I started with a dramatic sigh, “I think you should start small and work your way to the top.”

“But 3racha?” Minho grimaced. “Those fucking guys think they’re the absolute shit around here.”

“That sounds familiar.”

“Not funny,” Minho grumbled. “It’s my demo. I should be able to choose who I work with.”

“I think you’ve forgotten the fine print in your contract,” I said, reaching across the desk to offer his hand a gentle squeeze. “Please don’t make a big deal out of this. Can’t you make an exception...for me?”

Minho sighed, and I offered my absolute best pout in return.

“You’re lucky that I love you.”

Later that afternoon, I was surprised to meet Mr. Kim in the elevator on my way to the lobby. It was heavily rumored around the office that 3racha’s manager was notorious for locking himself away in the studio with his favorite clients. “Y/N,” he greeted me. “Are you busy?”

“Not really,” I said, holding up a folder. “I was bringing some files to Mr. Park.”

“Leave them with his secretary,” Mr. Kim insisted. “I thought it might be a good idea for you to meet my clients since we’ll be working together.”

“Minho is busy with an interview right now.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Mr Kim said. “Maybe it’s better if you talk to them first?”

I considered his offer, noting the disheveled appearance of his suit. “How long have you been trying to find me?”

“Does right now work for you?” he continued, pointedly ignoring my question.

“If you must insist,” I grumbled. “But they’ll have to meet at some point.”

“Yes, but I think we can delay the inevitable,” Mr. Kim said with a pointed look which I knew was directed at my husband.

“Fine.”

My easy agreement was met with a satisfied smirk to which I resisted the urge to remind Mr. Kim that I was only meeting his clients to make things easier for everyone involved in the collaboration. Of course, I had no room to talk down to my superiors and Mr. Kim’s credentials were practically golden compared to the minimal mark I had left on the company and its prolific talent. Instead, I let out a shaky exhale, wondering if it was too late to reconsider the fight I endured on a regular basis to keep my position with the company.

“Here we are,” Mr. Kim grinned. The elevator stopped on the top floor with a resounding alarm. “I think you’ll find my clients to be satisfactory.”

“In comparison to Minho, you mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes as Mr. Kim urged me to follow him down a narrow hallway. I vaguely recognized our destination, but I usually never lingered around the studios.

“Did I say that?”

“It was implied,” I sighed, crossing my arms.

“Well, that wasn’t my intention, Y/N. You, of course, understand that nothing between us is personal?”

“We’re colleagues, Mr. Kim,” I replied. “That defines our relationship.”

“In that case...” he trailed off, pausing outside one of the doors. “I’m excited to work together.”

I rolled my eyes when he turned his back, but held my tongue as he reached for my hand to drag me inside the room. Immediately, my eyes were drawn to the plethora of monitors and screens dragging the walls of the entertainment studio. It reminded me of my early time as an intern during college, overwhelmed by the inner workings of the record company I was privileged to support, learning everything about the business. There was also a time, however briefly, when I first entered my current company as nothing more than an executive assistant for Mr. Kim who enjoyed reminding me of the fact, especially when his clients continued to eclipse mine in popularity. And that included the three men who offered us polite smiles when we interrupted their session. 

“Y/N,” Mr. Kim said, dragging me further into the room. “I thought it might be nice to formally offer introductions. I’d like you to meet Bang Chan, Han Jisung, and Seo Changbin.”

“I’m very excited,” I said, taking on a professional tone as I extended my hand to Chan. “My client is looking forward to your future collaboration.”

Chan accepted my outstretched hand, curling his fingers around mine. “Likewise.”

I withdrew my hand slowly, offering Jisung and Changbin a courteous nod. “Mr. Kim insisted that we meet today.”

“Yes,” Chan nodded. “But your client is noticeably absent.”

I swallowed hard as I met his gaze. “Minho is busy with an interview.”

“I see,” Chan remarked, taking a step back. “Well, 3racha is working until this evening. Perhaps Minho could join us here after his meeting.”

I turned around to look at Mr. Kim who only shrugged in response as if it hadn’t been his idea to keep Minho as far away as possible until necessary. I rolled my shoulders, schooling my expression as I gave Chan an airy laugh. “That only makes sense, doesn’t it? Let me send him a message.”

“In the meantime,” Changbin sighed from behind us. “We can continue with the recording.”

“Keep us updated, Y/N,” Chan said, returning to his work while I started on drafting a message for Minho.

To Minho: Tell me when your interview ends

“Y/N,” Mr. Kim cleared his throat. “I hope Minho’s schedule is cleared for tomorrow?

I raised one eyebrow in question. “Tomorrow?”

“We’d like to start the first recording session,” Chan replied. “Mr. Park played us some of Minho’s demo and we have some ideas for the track.”

“Oh,” I responded, completely out of my element when it came to the actual creation of music despite the many nights I spent with Minho in our home studio. “I’m sure we can make it work.”

“Perfect,” Mr. Kim declared, pulling out his cellphone with a grin. “I’ll make the arrangements on my end.”

Mr. Kim stepped out into the hallway, leaving me alone with his clients who were all watching me with barely concealed curiosity. “You know,” Chan started, “I’ve listened to Minho’s albums. He doesn’t seem like the type of person to write love songs.”

“He likes to experiment,” I said, blushing when I recalled the way he had intimately explained the meaning behind his new demo, but there was no way I was telling anyone that the song was about me. 

“Is he...open to criticism?” Jisung asked hesitantly.

“Why? Is there something wrong with the demo?”

“Of course not!” Jisung immediately corrected. “I just thought I’d ask because we have some cool suggestions to improve the overall quality. But I don’t know if Minho would listen.”

It was highly unlikely. “I’m sure he’s open for improvement,” I lied, wincing when I felt my phone vibrate from inside my pocket.

Minho: Call me.

“One second, gentlemen,” I said, cringing at my tone before escaping into the hallway. I held up my cell phone reluctantly, tapping on Minho’s contact name to place the call. He answered almost immediately. “Minho?”

“Sweetheart,” came his voice from the other end. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Yeah,” I said with a heavy exhale. “I’m with 3racha.”

He was silent on the other end for an uncomfortable duration. “Why?”

“Mr. Kim caught me on the way to Mr. Park’s office,” I said. “He insisted we meet.”

“Really? Are you having fun?”

I inwardly groaned at Minho’s tone, recognizing it as the same one he reserved when he was feeling particularly annoyed. “They want to meet you too.”

I was met with another long silence and then- “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

I paced outside the studio entrance, wondering if Minho had suddenly had a change of heart in the brief amount of time he had been notified of the collaboration project. After all, everything would be a lot easier if my husband wasn’t so stubborn, a perfectionist in every sense of the word who had trouble delegating work to other people, especially when he didn’t trust them. But for this to be successful, Minho would need to respect 3racha as capable artists who knew what they were doing when it came to creating hit singles.

“This feels more like an intervention,” Minho suddenly announced, trudging down the hallway and pulling me out of my foreboding thoughts.

“Then don’t give me a reason to be nervous,” I said, accepting his brief kiss before reaching out for the door handle. “Promise me you’ll behave?”

“I’ll try,” Minho grumbled, and that was the only confirmation I received before letting the literal beast into the jungle..

Chan was the first to realize Minho’s arrival, standing up from the couch to greet Minho with a professional smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Minho glared at Chan’s outstretched hand. “I’m not thrilled about this collaboration.”

I shook my head, resisting the urge to grab Minho’s hand and force him to feign politeness for once in his life. “Oh,” Chan said, retracting his arm. “I just thought we should get along since we’re working together.”

“A temporary arrangement,” Minho said, clicking his tongue as he turned around to look at me. “Y/N can handle the PR stuff.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” I quipped, trying to lighten the air even though Minho had more or less successfully generated enough tension to last a lifetime. 

“Mr. Lee, my clients were hoping to schedule a session tomorrow,” Mr. Kim said. “We’d like to start on the collaboration as soon as possible.”

“Sure,” Minho said, jaw clenching to betray that he wasn’t entirely happy. “I’d like to work quickly.”

A long, insufferable silence ensued while Minho took his time studying the three artists he was expected to share his newest creation. Finally, Mr. Kim interrupted the never-ending staring contest, flashing a forced smile. “Bring the demo with you, Mr. Lee, and anything else you’ve been working on.”

Minho nodded. “I’ve already finished most of the song.” I took a deep breath, waiting until Minho turned around to look at me. “I have something to do, so I’ll see you at home.”

I bowed my head, holding my tongue until the sound of the door closing broke whatever spell Minho had cast over our sullen group. “Pleasant isn’t he?” Changbin snorted.

“He’s just busy,” I tried to excuse, but the sentiment fell short and I suddenly had the desire to run down the hall with my arms flailing above my head.

I guess we can consider day one a complete and total failure.

Despite the awkward tension of Minho’s first meeting with 3racha, I was determined that the remainder of the collaboration would endure no further obstacles. Accordingly, I woke up early the next morning with every intention of playing the part of the mediator, which meant doing everything possible to improve Minho’s mood. For example, my husband was notorious for being intimidating at work, but he was nothing short of soft at home and I took advantage of his early-morning clinginess by surprising him with breakfast in bed and open arms without worrying about rushing through our usual routine. 

“You want something,” Minho said, one arm pulling me close to his chest while his other hand made busy work of his breakfast.

“What makes you say that?” I asked.

“In general? Maybe it’s the fact that we’re already twenty minutes behind schedule and you aren’t losing your shit.”

I opened one eye, watching him as he swallowed down the remainder of his orange juice. “I’m comfortable.”

“Really?” Minho snickered, looking down with a knowing glance. “Sweetheart, you’re usually pushing me out the door right about now.”

“Well, things have been hectic at the company, so I thought it might be nice to treat ourselves.”

“I assume you’re talking about my required collaboration with the three idiots,” Minho said. 

“I’m concerned,” I continued. “Minho, you hate working with the other artists, but this isn’t something we can just walk away from.”

“I understand,” Minho sighed. “I don’t want you to worry about me or the collaboration. I promise to be a good boy.”

I rolled my eyes at his tone. “That’s a great way to instill confidence.”

“They’re irritating,” Minho continued. “My inbox is full of messages and I hate email.”

“Welcome to the 21st century.”

“Are you sure Mr. Park wanted this?”

“Minho,” I said, slowly pulling myself out of his arms. “Stop thinking about the project like it’s some sort of punishment. Consider it an opportunity instead.”

“Please feel free to elaborate.”

“3racha are incredibly famous and they have a considerable fanbase,” I said. “When those fans hear your voice on the record, they might start paying more attention to your music.”

Minho exhaled, chest falling beneath my hands. “I see your point, but I don’t like it.”

“Nobody said you had to like it,” I reminded him. “Be nice to them.”

“What are you asking me to do?” my husband groaned, rolling over onto his stomach.

I quickly straddled his waist, working my fingers into the tense muscles of his shoulders. “I know you don’t like the collaboration, but it won’t last forever and then you can go back to working on your solo projects.”

“I guess, but only if you come to all the recording sessions.”

I grinned triumphantly, even if it was only one victory in a long history of tedious arguments with my stubborn husband. 

Mr. Kim was a very impatient man, and I was only somewhat surprised to see him standing by the main entrance when we finally arrived at the company.  “Minho, you needed to be in the recording studio...” he trailed off, glancing at his wristwatch with a frown. “Ten minutes ago.”

My husband scoffed. “I don’t work on your time, Mr. Kim.”

“We had a late start,” I intervened. “I’ll make sure he gets there soon, Mr. Kim.”

The older man grunted, clearly displeased with Minho’s behavior. Thankfully, Minho had the decency to wait until he was well out of hearing range before further disparaging Mr. Kim’s character. “Sweetheart, I’m doing this for you,” Minho said, glaring over my shoulder at Mr. Kim’s retreating form. “But I don’t appreciate being told what to do.”

“That’s how he is,” I said. “I used to work for him as an assistant. He was always keeping everyone busy. Time wasted is money lost.”

Minho snickered at my poor imitation of Mr. Kim’s accent. “I’d kick his skinny ass if I was any less patient.”

I resisted the urge to laugh at Minho’s “restraint” because my husband was notorious for acting without consideration for the consequences. “Don’t be late for your first recording session.”

Minho pouted, looking down at me with wide, brown eyes. “You aren’t coming?”

“I’ll be there soon,” I promised him with a quick kiss. “I have something to do first.”

Minho was hesitant to leave me behind, but I offered him another encouraging kiss before retreating in the opposite direction to my office. It seemed that I would need reinforcements for this particular occasion, and I knew there were only two men who I could force to help me. As such, I found Jeongin and Seungmin loitering around their desks, passing back and forth what appeared to be a paper airplane. “I wasn’t aware I made any prior aviation requests.”

Jeongin let out a small whine, quickly disposing of the distraction in the bin next to his desk. “Sorry, Mrs. Lee.”

“Look, I’m actually in a hurry today and there’s too much going on for me to handle your hijinks,” I said, beckoning the interns to follow me into my office. “I have an important assignment for you.”

“Of course!” Seungmin agreed, walking ahead to grab the door. “Whatever you need, Mrs. Lee.”

“It’s about Minho.”

“Lee Minho?”

I turned around to glare at Jeongin. “Who else? Or did I receive notice of another client with the same name?”

Jeongin shook his head furiously. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Lee. It’s just...”

“Minho has a history with interns,” Seungmin finished. “And maybe people in general.”

I laughed at their suggestions. “You’ll be with me the entire time, alright?”

They both visibly relaxed. “So we don’t have to help him?”

“Not directly,” I affirmed, moving around my desk. “Sit down, boys.” They both complied quickly, looking up at me with wide and innocent eyes that reminded me of my days in university. “Minho and 3racha have a recording session scheduled for this afternoon.”

Jeongin squealed from his chair. “The 3racha! I love their music! Oh, do you think it’d be too much to ask for an autograph?”

Upon seeing my glare, Jeongin quickly apologized. “Would it be too much to resist that urge, Mr. Yang?”

The younger boy sighed. “Sorry, Mrs. Lee.”

“Anyway,” I continued, ignoring their antics. “I have your assignments.”

Seungmin leaned forward expectantly. “Whatever you need, Mrs. Lee!”

“Your job,” I said, glancing back and forth between Jeongin and Seungmin, “is to make sure that Minho doesn’t piss off 3racha.”

“How?” Jeongin asked with sad eyes that almost forced me to change my mind on the spot.

“Just make sure you’re at their recording sessions with me,” I said. “Intervene whenever it seems like they might argue.”

“Intervene?”

I sighed impatiently. “I don’t know, improvise or something, but nothing bad needs to happen or Mr. Park will chew my ass out for disrupting a perfectly good collaboration opportunity.”

Seungmin and Jeongin looked at each other before sighing in defeat. “Does this mean we’ll be getting a raise?”

Here’s the thing about my job: despite Minho’s insistence, he was not the only client I represented. For example, I was also currently working on the debut of a new boy group who were incredibly talented and highly charismatic. They were also obedient and respectful, doing whatever they could to make my job easier even though I never asked them to sacrifice their free-time to practice their dancing and singing. When I worked with their leader, I couldn’t help but think that my job was considerably easier in comparison to the extra effort sometimes required to fix Minho’s mistakes, like the time he showed up an hour late for an interview because I forgot to set the alarm in our bedroom. Nonetheless, it always seemed like I was doing something extra to remedy Minho’s abrasive nature, which explains why I was prepared to sacrifice two of the company’s interns for the betterment of the future.

“Are you ready?” I asked the younger boys, lingering by the doorway to the studio.

Seungmin managed a nod while Jeongin murmured something that I decided to interpret as his approval. I knocked on the door expectantly, slightly relieved when Minho greeted me on the other side. “There you are,” he said. “We couldn’t possibly start without you.”

I rolled my eyes, but followed him inside with my interns hot on my heels. Minho retired to the couch, hunched over his laptop as he worked with a frown. Meanwhile, Chan, Jisung, and Changbin were busy adjusting the sound equipment while Mr. Kim watched his clients with eager eyes.

“Stay here,” I said to my nervous interns before joining Minho on the couch. “Do you actually plan to help them?”

“Believe it or not, Y/N,” Minho said. “I’m not actually procrastinating...just putting the finishing touches on the initial demo.”

He lifted one of the earbuds, offering it to me with a grin. “Are you trying to ask me something?”

Minho scoffed. “Will you please listen to my finished demo?”

I snatched the earbud from him in response, plugging my right ear and blocking out the lingering noise from the studio. The soft cadence of the piano started to play from the computer, shortly followed by Minho’s familiar breathy vocals that never ceased to amaze me. My husband was gifted with a profoundly gorgeous voice that could reach high notes that even I would struggle to obtain.

“My voice sounds angelic, wouldn’t you agree?” Minho asked.

“I see your ego has somehow managed to grow overnight.”

Minho chuckled, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to my lips. “Don’t worry, I don't intend to sabotage the collaboration...I worked too hard on this demo.”

“I guess we can start then,” I said, stretching my arms high above my head as I waited for Minho to eject his flash drive. From the corner of my eye, I spotted Jisung approaching the two of us with a hesitant smile. “Good morning, Jisung,” I said, nudging Minho when he continued to remain silent.

“Let’s get this over with,” he said, holding up the flashdrive. “I prepared most of the song.”

“Really?” Jisung questioned, accepting the device from Minho. “I’d like to listen.”

Jisung returned to the sound booth and Chan accepted the flash drive with a brief glance over his shoulder at Minho. My husband remained silent while Chan opened the corresponding file on the computer and everyone listened with admirable concentration while Minho’s sweet music and tender voice filled the empty studio space.

“It’s good,” Changbin acknowledged at the end, even though his tone was somewhat reluctant.

“Good enough on its own,” Minho muttered and I shot him a warning look. “Fine,” he begrudged. “I have some ideas on the arrangements.”

“Sure,” Chan nodded, leaning back against the sound booth. 

“We can split up the parts,” Minho continued. “I’ll handle the chorus.”

“I see,” Chan acknowledged. “I guess that means you want us to take the verses?”

“Logical, isn’t it?” Minho snarked. “I suppose you can add a rap verse or two since that’s your...thing.”

“I could try and sing as well,” Jisung offered. “We could harmonize over the final chorus.”

“You sing?” Minho snorted. “I thought you were a rap group.”

“Does that automatically disqualify us from being singers?” Changbin asked gruffly.

“Of course not!” I interfered, inserting myself effectively between Minho and Changbin. “I’ve heard some of your vocal work and it’s absolutely beautiful.”

Minho grumbled something indecipherable under his breath from behind me, but I ignored him and continued to do my absolute best to ensure the recording session progressed as smoothly as possible. “I hope you don’t mind, but my interns will also be joining us today for their field work.”

“That’s fine with me,” Chan spoke up from his position behind the sound station. “Should we start with finalizing arrangements?”

I ushered Minho forward whose expression revealed his reluctance. However, since he was on his best behavior, Minho started conversing with Chan and the others about arranging the vocals and rap verses for the song. In return, I sat down on the couch with my interns since I wasn’t skilled enough to comprehend their impressive knowledge of song production. I knew Mr. Kim was also quite unfamiliar with their vernacular, but the proud man continued to linger around the artists as if he could possibly offer something beneficial to the professionals.

I scoffed at the idea, turning to look at Seungmin who was busy playing some sort of application on his phone. “Is this your way of doing a good job?”

He jumped at the sound of my voice, closing out of his game before shoving his phone back into his pocket. “I’m paying attention!”

From my other side, Jeongin sighed happily. “Han has the best voice.”

I tried not to laugh at Jeongin’s starstruck expression, especially since Han Jisung was a very impressive vocalist, singing Minho’s lyrics like they had come from his own imagination. “He’s quite talented,” I agreed, studying my husband to try and determine if he also shared the same opinion.

But Minho was difficult to read when he was focused on his music. He never spoke during Han’s performance, waiting until the younger boy was finished before addressing him expectantly from the recording booth. Minho sighed, pressing the button to allow him to speak directly to Jisung. “It was alright for a rapper.”

I resisted the urge to bang my head against the wall as Jisung glowered at Minho. “I’m not just a rapper.”

“The tone isn’t right,” Minho carried on as if Jisung hadn’t spoken, “we need tighter vocals.”

“My vocals are fine!” Jisung bristled and I shoved at Jeongin’s arm who immediately jumped into action. The younger intern stood up abruptly, the unexpected action commanding the attention of the entire studio...

“Who wants coffee!”

I sighed at his dramatics, but it was a decent distraction. “Why not?” Chan asked, reclining back in his chair. “It seems like we have a lot of work to do.”

Sadly, truer words had never been spoken.

Graciously, Minho managed to keep his more radical opinions to himself for the remainder of our scheduled recording sessions with 3racha. Of course, my husband always had his ways of insinuating an insult through carefully chosen words. Nonetheless, I think all parties involved knew it would be to everyone’s benefit if we finished recording the new song without arguing about Minho’s dismissive comments. 

In any case, Mr. Park was thrilled with the final result, inviting me and Mr. Kim to his office after listening to the finished product. “This is exactly what I envisioned,” he said with a bright smile. “The fans will love this!”

“It was a process, sir,” I admitted, sheepishly offering Mr. Kim what I hoped was a sincere apology.

“I’ve scheduled a shooting day for the music video,” Mr. Park said. “I have the perfect concept for the song!”

“I’m sure it’s brilliant, sir,” Mr. Kim added.

“Lee Felix and Hwang Hyunjin have agreed to choreograph the track,” Mr. Park said. “They have some very interesting ideas for your clients.”

It was only then when I remembered that Minho liked to arrange his own dances, but since we were already this far into the collaboration, he might reluctantly agree once more. “We’ll be there,” I reassured my boss.

Unfortunately, I knew it would be a horrible shooting day when I walked outside with Minho and saw a gray sky and light misting of rain. “This is already a mess,” I said, dragging my still sleepy husband to the car. 

“How long will this take?” Minho grumbled.

“If you’re willing to cooperate,” I said, fixing him with a stern glance, “then I’d imagine we can finish by this evening.”

Minho yawned. “I hate music video shoots.”

“You poor thing,” I sighed. “Whenever you finally decide to become a director, then I’m certain you’ll insist on controlling that aspect of music production as well.”

“I feel like you understand my vision, Y/N,” Minho said with an airy laugh. “I’m too tired to argue today.”

I exhaled a sigh of relief, hoping that he was being honest. “Mr. Park invited the company’s best choreographers. Please don’t insist on doing your own performance.”

“As long as they won’t have me doing anything less than artistic,” Minho said. “We should be fine.”

I chose not to take my husband’s words to heart as we drove to the shooting sight together in silence. It had started to steadily rain the longer we drove, and I had a feeling that the sky itself was foreshadowing the impending breakdown threatening to destroy all the progress we made. But I was also an optimist, and Minho was usually the least abrasive when it came to shooting music videos.

I parked my car next to the company’s van, watching a few regular staff members unload equipment from the back. “Y/N, it’s not too late for us to drive to that adorable little breakfast restaurant we like so much,” Minho reminded me.

“Shoot the video and I’ll treat you to a gourmet dinner,” I said, reaching across the console to squeeze my husband’s hand. 

He was still reluctant, but I was proud when he reached into the backseat for our umbrella. We stood close together, Minho’s hand firm around my waist. In the distance, I easily found Mr. Kim talking with his clients as they fought to stay dry under one of the company’s tents.

Mr. Kim saw me first, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Y/N, you’ve decided to keep us waiting again.”

“Blame it on the weather,” I said, closing the umbrella as Minho wandered over to talk with one of the directors.

“Oh! You mean the rain pushing us into a delay? I guess I didn’t notice,” Mr. Kim returned, rolling his eyes as he led me further into the crowd of people. I faintly recognized the younger men dressed in gorgeous outfits, recalling their appearance in various music videos from some of the company’s most distinguished artists. “Y/N,” Mr. Kim smiled. “I’d like you to meet Lee Felix and Hwang Hyunjin. They have some excellent suggestions for the music video.”

“The honor is mine,” I said, bowing respectfully to Felix and Hyunjin. “Minho is eager to work with you.”

Felix smirked. “You don’t have to lie to us, Mrs. Lee. We know your husband prefers to work alone.”

“Ah,” I murmured. “His reputation precedes him.”

“I hope he can appreciate our efforts,” Hyunjin added. “Felix and I have been working on some new choreography for the track.”

“He’s being compliant today,” I said. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate everything you’ve done.”

“There isn’t much of a choice,” Mr. Kim said, startling when the director attempted to speak over the white-noise of the tent’s occupants.

“Attention! We’re starting inside the school for the first scene.”

I met Minho’s eyes over the crowd of moving staff, nodding for him to obey the director’s command. “What’s the concept, Mr. Kim?”

“Friends-to-lovers?” Mr. Kim shrugged. “Your pretty husband is the main character, which I’m sure will please him greatly.”

“It’s a high school setting?”

“Yes, and he has a crush on a school girl,” Mr. Kim said. “You should know this very well, Mrs. Lee, didn’t he seduce you in the same way?”

I ignored his jab. “And 3racha?”

“Protective friends, I guess,” Mr. Kim said. “The director assured me that it wouldn’t take long to film.”

“I hope not,” I said. “The less Minho has to be here, the better.”

“Cut!” the director growled. “Mr. Lee, this is not the same choreography that we discussed with Felix and Hyunjin.”

“I tried to improvise,” my husband defended himself.

There were less than two scenes left to film and I was very close to dragging Minho away from the film shooting and knocking some sense into him. “Follow the script we discussed,” the director said. “Let’s take five.”

Chan glared at Minho as he snatched a bottle of water from the snack table. “Is it too much to ask you to cooperate, Minho?”

My husband ignored Chan, pausing in front of me to bring his forehead against mine. “I’m tired.”

I shot Chan an apologetic smile as I smoothed my hands through Minho’s hair. “I’m sorry.”

He pulled back to look at Chan who was engrossed in conversation with Jisung and Changbin. “He’s impossible to work with.”

“What’s wrong now?” I sighed, feeling another impending headache courtesy of Minho’s behavior.

“I hate Bang Chan,” Minho said. “He keeps looking at your ass.”

“Who cares?” I nearly shouted, attracting the attention of a few camera workers. “Minho, the shooting is almost over. Please, for the sake of my mental sanity, can you try to listen to the director?”

Minho’s eyes betrayed his exhaustion. “I want greasy food for dinner and a cheesy movie when I get home.”

I laughed, amused by Minho’s behavior. “Whatever you want.”

“Minho!” the director yelled. “We need you back on set.”

Minho closed his eyes and sighed. “He’s lucky I’m a professional.”

I was lingering by the snack table, picking my way through the bowl of skittles because I only liked the red kind, when I heard the unexpected sound of yelling from somewhere inside the school. My husband’s voice was easy to detect about the noise, and I stuffed a handful of candies into my mouth before deciding to investigate. As much as I’d like to imagine that the yelling was a part of the music video, common sense told me that my husband had likely gotten into another confrontation with the director.

However, the last thing I expected to see was Minho marching through the open doors of the school with Chan following him with clear annoyance. “I’m telling you it’s not good enough,” Chan said, frowning when Minho stopped by my side.

“I don’t want to film it again,” Minho said. “Besides, your reaction was genuine. The best ‘acting’ you’ve done all day.”

“What’s going on?” I demanded.

“Nothing,” Minho said, glaring at Chan as he reached for my hand. “The collaboration required a song and we have a finished copy and a music video. I’ve done my part, so if you’ll kindly excuse my wife and I...”

Chan shook his head. “Do whatever you want, Minho. I don’t care anymore.... But the sad part in all of this is how much I was sincerely excited to work with you, despite your reputation.”

Minho seemed at a loss for words, glancing back and forth between me and Chan. “I can’t share your sentiment, Chan,” he finally said. “I think it’s best if we make this a one time thing.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Chan agreed with a disappointed sigh.

I could only helplessly stand aside as the two bickered, wondering if it was too late to formally retire.

Sunday was the only day of the week where I could actually enjoy myself without having to worry about the company or the never-ending demands of my clients, with the exception of my husband. “Y/N,” Minho slurred from next to me in our bed.

I made a vague noise of recognition, pulling the blankets closer to my chin because it was too cold in the apartment. “What?”

“Your phone is vibrating,” Minho said, and I managed to crane my head back just enough to realize that he was right.

I reached out my hand to feel for the stupid thing on the nightstand, pulling it close enough to read the message displayed across the screen:

From Mr. Kim: Mr. Park planned some sort of elaborate interview/performance for the new collaboration. Make sure Minho is at the company tomorrow by noon.

“Who is it?” Minho asked, using one arm to drag me closer to his welcoming heat.

“Mr. Kim,” I murmured in return.

“Why?” Minho growled.

“Apparently, you have an interview with 3racha tomorrow. Mr. Park wants a live performance for the debut of the collaboration.”

“I thought I was done with them,” Minho said with a tone that suggested he was anything but pleased with the news.

“It’s just one performance,” I argued. “And you promised me that you would finish all your responsibilities.”

“You keep adding more things,” Minho gruffed.

I smirked, rolling onto my side to face my husband. “I think it’s a great idea to let the fans hear it live on the same day it starts streaming.”

“Can’t they just play the recording of my parts?”

“It won’t be the same,” I said, leaning in closer to brush my lips across the seam of his pout. “I’ll be the loudest fan screaming your name from the back.”

He chuckled, allowing one hand to pull me in closer. “Aren’t you always my biggest fan?”

“Lee Know, will you sign my albums?”

“You’re a good negotiator, sweetheart,” he said, diving in for a passionate kiss that reminded me of when we first started dating and Minho was always eager to shower me with affection. 

“Minho,” I gasped, barely restraining a moan when he suddenly moved between my thighs.

“I’m sorry I’ve made things difficult,” he said, pressing sweet kisses to the skin around my calves. Tender moments like this reminded me of the person I fell in love with, slowly learning that there was more to Minho than his arrogant stage persona. 

“Please,” I whispered, helping him remove my sweatpants before weaving my fingers through his hair.

“Anything for you,” Minho said, breath hot against my sensitive skin. He stuck out his tongue, tasting the heat between my legs with languid strokes that promised the best wake-up call to start the day. Not that Minho and I did anything substantial on Sundays since we preferred to watch movies and indulge in the glorious high of junk food.

More often than not, we always ended up in this position with my husband doing his best to please me. And I had no room to complain because Minho was awfully talented with his tongue, and he had me writhing against the mattress like a complete mess. “You’re too good at this,” I complained halfheartedly.

His nails dug into my hips, holding me in place while he continued to drive me over the edge. “Are you going to cum for me?”

I always broke at his husky tone, lying spent in my post-orgasmic haze as Minho feathered light kisses across my legs. In moments like this, it was impossible to think about the negative aspects of working for the company, or the drama of the collaboration. Besides, it was only one more day and Minho never broke his promises.

I found a strange, but calming quality to pacing back and forth when I came across a problem that was incredibly difficult to solve. For example, arriving at the office early to prepare last minute forms while fully expecting my husband to show up to his scheduled interview and performance without my intervention. Yet, despite my expectations, I was currently backstage with Mr. Kim and his clients while we listened to a crowd of eager fans waiting to hear the new collaboration. Unfortunately, my husband was nowhere to be seen, and that meant our schedule was in jeopardy.

“Where’s Minho?” Mr. Kim nearly screeched, raking his hands through his balding hair while remaining heavily engrossed in his phone screen.

The performance was supposed to start ten minutes ago and the fans were clearly confused. A distinct murmuring of intermingled voices echoing throughout the soundless concert hall. “Y/N?”

I turned around, using every last ounce of strength I could muster to meet Chan’s gaze. “I don’t know where he is.”

“Is that so?” Chan asked, and the anger in his eyes was enough to nearly give me a premature heart attack.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, desperately ringing Minho’s number once again only to be met by the familiar greeting of his voicemail inbox.

“I knew that bastard would ruin this,” Changbin said. “He was determined from the start to see this fail.”

“It was one performance,” Jisung bemoaned, and I could only feel absolutely miserable listening to their shared complaints. But, in the words of my formidable boss, the show must go on and I couldn’t bear to disappoint the eager fans waiting to hear the song they loved.

Speaking of which, I reached out a hand to support myself against the wall when I saw Mr. Park walk backstage with his assistants. Our eyes met from across the room. “Mr. Park,” I managed, but my throat was suddenly dry despite the three empty bottles of water I had consumed.

“Y/N,” Mr. Park sighed, eliminating the distance between us. “Tell them to have 3racha perform without Minho. Our phone conversation today has certainly changed my mind about the viability of his collaboration.”

“You talked to him?” I growled, feeling nothing short of betrayed since my husband had repeatedly ignored my phone calls.

“We’ve reached an impasse,” Mr. Park explained solemnly. “Please tell Mr. Kim about the change.”

“But sir!” I tried to protest because I was extremely confused and had no idea what we needed to tell the fans.

However, Mr. Park was already focused on a new task and instead of delaying the inevitable, I found Mr. Kim talking urgently to a stage hand next to the curtain. “Introduce 3racha,” I said. “Tell them that Minho had an unexpected emergency.”

Mr. Kim, if it was even possible, grew even redder to the point where I hesitated to call for help backstage. “This is an outrage!” he finally growled, crowding me against the wall. “If this goes wrong, then I hope you know that it’s entirely your husband’s fault and his mistakes reflect poorly on your performance.

I bowed my head, because I knew that part of the blame rested on my shoulders as Minho’s manager, especially in regard to the mysterious phone call he shared with Mr. Park. In the meantime, I could hear the crowd cheer for the arrival of 3racha who performed to the best of their ability without my husband. Still, it broke my heart to know that he had somehow been excused from the performance after promising to complete the remainder of his responsibilities. 

But I still wanted to give Minho the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps something happened when I left for the company and he was forced to call Mr. Park? Still, my optimism didn’t stop my hands from shaking from my grip around the steering wheel, pulling into my usual parking spot with a heavy sigh. Before our marriage, there were plenty of times when Minho tested my patience. For example, on multiple occasions I had come very close to handing in my request to have him transferred to someone else because he was sometimes impossible to handle. However, each time I would threaten to leave, Minho always convinced me to stay, turning his entire attitude around and doing his best to make up for his mistakes. He was usually successful, but today’s mishap forced me to question whether or not he was capable of recovering from this unexpected slight. And it wouldn’t just jeopardize my relationship with him as his manager, but also the close intimacy I shared with him as his wife.

I paused at the door to our apartment, trying to listen for any sound of movement from inside. “He’ll have a good excuse,” I attempted to justify, unlocking the door before dragging my feet into the entryway. “Minho?” I called out, greeting nothing but silence before I walked downstairs to his studio where Minho often liked to escape when he wanted to be alone.

I was surprised to see him inside, working on his computer as if today was just another ordinary session. “Minho,” I snapped, opening the door without bothering to knock. “We need to talk.”

Minho sighed, glancing away from his computer screen. “I know Mr. Park cancelled my performance.”

“Yeah? And you don’t think that there’s something wrong!”

“Y/N, don’t worry about the interview,” he replied. “Park called me earlier and told me he would take care of everything.”

I slowly exhaled. “I know he called you, but I don’t understand why it happened.”

“He said it wouldn’t be the last time I was involved with marketing,” Minho continued. “I told him I was under the impression that today would be the last performance. We argued for a while and he told me that I shouldn’t bother showing up today if I wasn’t committed to the project.”

I blinked twice, trying to process his words. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, barely restraining the anger. “I called you several times before Mr. Park showed up backstage.”

“I knew you’d be disappointed,” Minho said with a vulnerable tone I could hardly tolerate. “It’s not a big deal. Park knows about everything, and tomorrow we can forget about the collaboration.”

He looked at me like he was expecting me to just agree with him, but I was beyond words. Instead, I turned my back to him and retreated upstairs to our bedroom. I had fought with my husband before, but this was an entirely new level of anger and frustration.

I could hear Minho following me, but I refused to acknowledge his attempts to gain my attention. “You’re an asshole sometimes,” I growled, storming around the bedroom to find a spare set of sheets in the closet. “Let me know when you’re done being the world’s biggest jerk.”

“What are you doing?” Minho asked, blocking my path to the doorway. “We’re not done talking about this if you’re upset.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m done and you don’t always get your way,” I snapped, pushing past my husband into the living room.

“Y/N,” Minho said, reaching for my arm despite my attempts to ignore him. “I’m sorry.”

“No you aren’t,” I said, spinning around on my heel to confront him. “If you were sorry, then you’d try to make things right, but your ego has grown to such a monumental size that you can’t even accept the added weight of another mistake.”

“What are you saying?”

“You can’t make this right,” I said, tears obscuring the vision of my husband. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Sweetheart,” he said, expression transforming completely when he realized I was truly on the verge of a breakdown. “You know I’m not mad at you! Park knows everything, he was the one who told me not to show up!”

“It doesn’t matter,” I cried. “I asked you to do something that’s surprisingly simple for most people. Not because I wanted to punish you, but because I saw an opportunity to help Lee Know! But after the stunt you pulled today, I don’t think I’d bother helping you anymore.”

The single tear that fell from Minho’s eye would have normally been enough for me to recognize his guilt, but I wasn’t in the mood to fall back into the tedious cycle of forgiving him only to deal with another mishap in the future. “Y/N,” he said softly. “Please don’t leave me.”

I shook my head. “I need some time to think about things.”

“What do you mean?” he asked with a desperate tone. “We should talk about this, I can make it better!”

“Just let me sleep,” I begged him and he broke even more, releasing my hand with an uncharacteristic whine.

I tossed my blanket onto the couch, attempting to find a comfortable position on the leather. It was a far cry from the mattress in our bedroom, but I desperately needed space away from Minho. For now, I didn’t want to deal with the reality of our situation, which is why I was more than willing to drown myself in the familiar darkness of sleep.

The smell of bacon was surprisingly overwhelming when I woke up the next morning with lower back pain. I groaned, attempting to sit up despite the near constant throbbing. Apparently, leather sofas were built for style instead of comfort.

I opened my eyes slowly, feeling my heart jump inside my chest when I saw Minho holding a plate in my direction. “Y/N, are you okay?”

I swiped a hand across my face, remembering my argument with Minho from the previous evening. “I’m fine.”

“You should eat,” he insisted so I accepted the plate from him, shaking my head when I realized the toast was burnt, but Minho had never been a great cook. “I want to talk about last night,” Minho said. “Because you’re obviously hurt and that’s the last thing I wanted.”

“What did you expect?” I asked. “You weren’t there for the performance, you ignored my calls, and then my boss tells me that one of his artists decided he was done promoting his new single?”

Minho winced at my tone. “It’s all my fault because I decided to take everything personally. He forced me to do the collaboration when I didn’t want to participate, and it felt like he was taunting me...like I had no control over my music and he could do whatever he wanted.”

“He can, Minho,” I said. “You signed a contract with the company.”

“I know,” he sighed. “I keep forgetting that part, and it’s really stupid how much I let it affect me, but I hate it when things are out of my control.”

“But that’s no reason to take it on the people who were only trying to do their job,” I snapped. “Or refuse to tell your own wife!”

“I understand,” Minho nodded. “I was too caught up in my problems to realize that everyone was suffering because of my decisions.”

“What are you going to do about it?” I asked, holding my breath because I was dreading his answer.

“I’ll apologize to them,” Minho said, hanging his head in shame. “I need you to know that I’m sorry for everything.”

My heart broke at the sorrowful expression he wore, completely uncharacteristic of my husband...as was his decision to apologize since I halfway expected Minho to threaten his leave from the company. However, I also sometimes forgot that Minho was more than the way he acted around other people, and his sincerity was perfectly evident for me to recognize. “I know you are, but sometimes you do things without thinking about the consequences.”

“I’m aware,” he chuckled. “And I usually don’t really care, but that’s selfish...especially when it hurts you.”

“It is selfish,” I agreed. “How do I know you won’t do this again in the future?”

“Because I’ll remind myself of this moment,” he said. “I’ll remember what happened last night and do whatever I can to prevent it from happening again.”

I was stunned by his determination. “Are you really going to apologize to everyone?”

“I am,” he nodded. “Of course, your forgiveness matters the most.”

I took a deep breath, processing his words and the steady way he continued to hold my gaze. “You know I forgive you.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly, leaning in to press a chaste kiss against my lips. “I need you more than anything else in the world.”

My heart warmed at his declaration. “I wonder what everyone at the company would think if they saw how cheesy you are.”

“Are you going to tell on me?”

“Not as long as you behave,” I returned, laughing at the way he held me tighter, feeling nothing short of safe and secure in his familiar embrace.

Mr. Kim was surprisingly calm when I requested a meeting between our clients. In fact, I was shocked that he even accommodated my request considering our bad relations. However, I recognized an opening, walking down the hallway next to Minho who was clearly nervous as he hugged the bottle of champagne we brought as an apology gift.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Mr. Kim greeted us upon our arrival, sparing Minho a grimace before inviting us inside the studio.

Chan and Jisung were sitting together on the couch, glancing up only when Minho paused in front of them. Meanwhile, Changbin stood against the wall, watching my husband with narrowed eyes. Minho held tightly to the bottle of champagne in his hands, glancing between the three men who all wore similar expressions of disdain. “I’m sorry for the interview,” he said. “It was really selfish and immature.”

Chan arched one eyebrow, glancing between me and Minho. “Really?”

I quietly offered Minho a small push against his lower back, encouraging him to continue. “I rehearsed this,” Minho chuckled, “but it’s hard to swallow my pride.”

“Take your time,” I whispered to him softly.

“Well, let me start by saying that I was wrong about the whole collaboration thing,” he said. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be and you guys did everything to help us succeed.”

Changbin scoffed. “You certainly made it more difficult.”

Jisung nodded furiously in agreement. “I don’t think I’ve ever had this much trouble with promotion.”

“I know,” Minho agreed. “I was just upset because I have this stupid thing with Park and he knows that I have...problems working with other people.”

“That’s an understatement,” Changbin said, glowering at my husband with obvious disapproval.

“Honestly,” Minho said, swallowing hard. “The song is one of my favorites. I wouldn’t mind collaborating again in the future.”

“Well-” Jising broke off, staring at Mino with something akin to shock. “Huh?”

Chan frowned. “You really made us look bad on stage.”

“That wasn’t my intention,” Minho sighed. “I was being an enormous jerk, trying to stick it to the man or something ridiculous and it played out better in my head.”

I reached out a comforting hand, squeezing Minho’s shoulder for support. “I think he knows his decision was wrong.”

Minho nodded. “You might be upset with me and I understand. I’m sorry for everything that happened, and if you decide I don’t deserve to be taken seriously, then I won’t blame you.”

Minho ended his speech with a nervous cough, thrusting out the bottle of champagne in Jisung’s direction who accepted the bottle hesitantly. “Minho,” Chan said, closing his laptop with a sigh. “I know about your history when it comes to working with other artists.”

“It’s not exactly a glowing resume,” Minho admitted.

“No, but that’s the only reason why I know that your apology was sincere,” Chan said. “If you’re really serious, then I think we can move past this.”

Changbin nodded his agreement. “Mr. Park also explained some of the...politics behind the interview fiasco.”

“I guess it’s hard for you,” Chan shrugged. “I’m glad you came here to make things right.”

“And the champagne is nice,” Jisung added quickly to which Minho managed a smile.

“I’ll do whatever I can to make it up to you.”

“Well, if you were serious about collaborating again, we can start with line distributions,” Changbin said, leaning in with a smirk. “I want to sing next time.”

Minho laughed, nodding enthusiastically. “I think that’s a great idea.”

“In that case, we have cause for celebration,” Jisung cheered. “Mr. Kim, do we have spare glasses?”

In the meantime, I took a step back to allow the four men space to talk together, distributing several glasses of champagne before laughing at Jisung’s failed attempt not to spill anything on the carpet. It was certainly admirable, and I found myself simply watching Minho from across the room. This was nothing short of substantial progress, and I cherished the moment because it promised very good things for the future.

And at one point, Minho snuck away from his new collaborators to join me at the sound booth. “I love you,” he whispered. “I’m glad you’ve always been at my side.”

I reached out for his hand, watching Chan, Changbin, and Jisung hold up their champagne glasses in our direction. “You know? I’m really excited about your next project.”

Minho grinned, leaning his forehead against mine. “I think I could get used to this...as long as you’ll be there.”

I sighed happily, closing my eyes to remember this moment. “That will never change.”

[thatsbucknasty]

she used to be mine (v) waitress au

summary: Inspired by the broadway musical. Y/N Beck is a pie baking force to be reckoned with. She’s pregnant with her lazy ass husband, Quentin Beck’s baby. As everything around her turns upside down, Doctor James Buchanan Barnes charms his way into her life.

pairing: Y/N x Bucky

I will put some warnings in the tags cause I don’t want to spoil everybody but I feel like there are sensitive topics in this one, so go ahead and check the tags!

chapter 5: you will still be mine

You’d think that having an unplanned pregnancy, an unemployed lazy husband and an exhausting job that underpays would be just enough to realize you’re having a bad year. But now, on top of that, said unemployed lazy husband’s truck broke down and I just can’t afford to fix it right now, he’s asking for money cause he already took it to the shop without consulting with me, and it’s not like I can just give him my savings.

He was out all night yesterday, drinking I assume. I have to tell him I’m pregnant. And also, I have to walk to work and to my doctor’s appointment later today, because I can only afford one bus ride per day and usually it would be the one back home from work cause Quentin would drive me in the morning. Life’s just fine and dandy isn’t it?

I’ve seen those videos where women will make a big deal showing their spouse the little pregnancy test and record their reaction. It usually involves tears and hugs and all things pretty, and I can’t help but feel like I’m never gonna have that kind of life. The one with balloons and cake and glitter for the gender reveal party and the baby shower. And I’ve never even wanted those things, but I’m pretty sure Quentin’s reaction will be the farthest from tears and hugs and all things pretty.

-

“Morning, Y/N, you’re late again. It’s the third time this month”. Sam looks angry at me from the counter, at least he’s back to his grumpy self but I feel bad nonetheless.

“I am so sorry Sam, I swear I’m not doing it on purpose, it’s just that I had to walk and you know 4th street’s closed and-

“Hey, calm down girl. I understand. I know y’all think I’m rude and moody all the time but I just like teasing ya... if you ever need help I can give you a ride in the morning”. Great, now even Sam is pitying me.

“And I know what you’re thinking. ‘He’s pitying me’”, he rolls his eyes at me, “but I care about you girls despite all of our bickering. I’m just offering my help cause we’re pals, aren’t we?” He offers me a cup of coffee and I decline but sit down on the stool.

“Why aren’t you drinking coffee Y/F/N?” Oh shit.

“I uh, I-” Shit, shit, shit.

“Y/N?, tell me what’s going on?”

“Fuck, Sam, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. We are pals, we are! But I didn’t want Nick to know cause I thought he might fire me. I’m pregnant”. I finally sigh and hide my face in my hands, trying hard not to cry in front of him. “God, this is embarrassing”.

“Hey! There’s nothing to be ashamed of here. I understand, actually a lot of things make sense now. The girls know, don’t they?” I hum my answer, my face still in my palms.

“Have you told Quentin yet?” I shake my head and look down at the orange juice he puts in front of me instead of the usual coffee, huh, he can be nice when he really wants to.

“You’re in a real conundrum, aren’t you?”

“Yes I am. He hasn’t been working for the past three months. He didn’t come home last night and we fight almost every day. I don’t know when I’ll start showing but my uniform barely fits and my feet are swollen from walking here. It’s just a matter of time until he notices. I can barely afford my doctor’s appointments. Oh! And I might have a tiny crush on him”.

“Your doctor? Wasn’t he married?”

“How did you- nevermind. Well, he’s getting a divorce, but I am married so nothing’s gonna happen either way”.

“Jesus, I wish I could do something to help you. My offer on the ride still stands, okay?”

“Thank you, Sammy. You’re very kind but knowing my husband, he would never allow it. He’d rather I walk with my swollen feet everyday and I don’t wanna fight with him. I’m just so tired”.

“Y/N, I know this ain’t my place but, why are you still with him?”

“I honestly don’t know anymore. I keep making up reasons when Nat tells me to ‘leave his ass’ but I can’t think of any more good ones”.

-

The diner was very quiet today, most Tuesdays it is because Al’s Pancake World has a discount. Sam swore he’d keep the secret about my little crush. I just don’t want Nat to have more material for insisting I should leave Quentin right now. And now I’m walking over to the doctor’s office.

The air tonight is so crisp and I appreciate how summer is about to end. Fall has always been my favorite time of the year. I can’t wait for the diner to smell like pumpkin pie every day. Speaking of pie, I brought Bucky some leftovers.

“Good evening, Y/N. Oh gosh, you brought pie?” 

“I said I would, didn’t I?”

“I’m starting to think I should give you something back, you really didn’t have to”.

“Oh don’t worry about it, it’s just some leftover ‘Kick in the pants pie’, I know, the name’s a little too aggressive but I had a bad week, don’t judge”.

“No one’s judging here. But care to explain the name?”

“I just- I had a fight with my husband earlier, and whenever I wish I could do something that’s not very nice, I just make it into a pie, you know… to express my feelings in a non-violent way”.

“So you wish you could kick your husband’s crotch but you made a pie instead, got it”. It’s insane and we both laugh about it for a minute and he leans back into the exam table. This is nice, having a friend who I can openly talk about my issues with. Wait, are we friends?

“Do you and your husband fight a lot?”

“Um… why are you asking me this?”

“Oh, nothing, it’s just- stress is bad for the baby and, I don’t know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay”, I lean into the exam table next to him, close to him, “we do, we fight a lot. He drives me nuts, and I’m a pain in his ass. That’s just us I guess”.

“I get it. I was a pain in Dot’s ass too”, he scoffs out a cynical laugh and looks at me, “guess she couldn’t deal with that anymore”.

“Can I ask what happened?”

“You can, but I wouldn’t know how to answer. She just got up and left one day. Said she got an internship in New York and we weren’t working anymore, so- she didn’t even give me a real reason, nor a chance to work things out”.

“I’m sorry, Bucky”.

“It’s fine. We always wanted different things. I was raised in a small town and when I went to Chicago for college I was miserable. But I met Dot and I thought life in a big city wouldn’t be so hard if I had her by my side. But then she wanted to do even bigger”.

“Like New York?”

“Yeah. I’m not cut out for that. I love this little town of yours, always did”.

“Oh, so you’ve been here before?”

“Yeah, my grandparents lived here and I would come visit for the holidays. You actually remind me of my grandma”.

“Gee, thanks?” He throws his head back laughing.

“No, I mean because she used to bake like, ten different pies for Thanksgiving. She loved baking. And she was also a little-” He eyes me sheepishly and makes a face.

“A little what, huh?” I smack his arm and try not to laugh at his stupid, cute antics.

“Well, a little strong willed?”

“That’s a euphemism for stubborn”.

“Yeah, it is”. He has the audacity to smirk at me and I can’t help but smile because he says it in a way that feels like a compliment.

Bucky finishes the examination and tells me he’d like to see me again in three weeks. He opens the door for me and we do a little dance of who gets out first. We laugh at each other’s clumsiness and I feel like a teenager. He smells nice, like always. I say goodbye and I find myself hoping the next three weeks go by quickly. I glance at my watch and notice the time. Fuck, has it really been two hours? My appointments usually last thirty minutes tops.

-

“Hi, Y/N”. Fuck, he’s here already?

“Jesus, Quentin, you startled me. What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to see the game at Phil’s tonight”.

“Yeah? And I thought you were supposed to come home early, you said no extra shifts on Mondays”.

“I- I was-”

“Now don’t lie to me, cause I found your money! That’s right, I did! Why were you keeping money in the closet, huh? I took the money, paid Carl to fix the damn truck and drove over to Nick’s and you weren’t there. That angry redhead chick said you left early, so where, the fuck, were you?” He grabs an empty bottle of beer and throws it against the wall.

“Quentin. Stop it, you’re scaring me! Calm down!”.

“I won’t calm down until you tell me where you were!” He grabs another bottle and raises it above his head, aiming straight at me, I’m frightened and I don’t know what else to do but-

“I’m pregnant!”

Silence. Complete and utter silence. He lowers his arm along with the crystal bottle he’s holding. Tears cascade down my face silently and I can’t help them. I hate crying in front of Quentin but he truly scared me. He’s never been violent towards me. Sure he yells a lot but he never gets like this, and I’m sure he would’ve thrown that bottle at me if I hadn’t told the truth.

“Please say something”.

“You can’t be pregnant, Y/N, and if you are it isn’t mine”. He whispers and I don’t know if I heard him right. I’m at a loss for words for a few seconds.

“Why would you say such a thing? It is yours!”

“No it isn’t! I don’t want it!” He’s yelling again and his words break my heart. If I had the smallest belief that he actually cared for me, it’s gone.

“Quentin? Do you remember that night I went to the Stark’s party with you and we both got drunk? You were wearing your fancy blue shirt with the grey tie, and I had that red dress that you like. This baby is yours. And if you-”

“No, it isn’t! I said it isn’t, Y/N. I- I can’t do this with you, I can’t and I won’t!

“What are you talking about?!”

“You remember Alice? You met her at that party”.

“Right, mini skirt girl, I remember. What about her?”

“She and I-” He looks down at his feet and then back into my eyes and I see it.

“No”. My blood begins to boil. This bastard!

I feel a huge knot in my throat and I can’t breathe. All this time I’ve been grasping for something, anything. Clinging for this marriage to work. Feeling guilty about baking a stupid pie for my doctor, when he’s been sleeping with some girl who’s probably ten years younger than him?!

“No!” I grab the nearest object and throw it at him. And of course it’s a fucking pillow- “Get out! Out, I said! And don’t ever come back!” He’s backing down, opening the door and I yell at the top of my lungs, I don’t care if the neighbors hear me- 

“That money you stole from me was for the doctor’s appointments and the hospital bills, I saved up all of that for this baby, your baby, alone!  And you’re gonna pay me back! I kept a roof over your fucking head, paid for your fucking beers and you cheated on me? If you ever come near me or this baby I will kill you, you hear me?”

I grab his keys and put them on my apron’s pocket.

“And I’m keeping the stupid truck!”

He leaves, on foot, and just like that I’m a single mother. 

“AH!”

What is this? The most terrifying pain strucks my pelvis and I feel a discharge in my underwear. No, no. Baby don’t do this. We are gonna be fine, you and I. I promise. Please. Don’t.

-

chapter 6: a soft place to land

a/n: pls reblog if you liked it c: and don’t kill me, I promise fluff is coming!