#I am sitting here with a glass of wine working on these applications

[dorics]

say more about raise a glass

okay so you know how i'm unhinged about natalia cicero connie lee carter bajar, right? we all know that?

okay now that that's established the backstory of this fic is after i finished my natalia fic i was thinking about norman takamori, as i do on a semi-regular basis, and i was like. wait. what if these people bonded over the fact that they both had their autonomy taken away from them? norman by skip and natalia by her extremely abusive and wealthy parents who literally embedded a tracker in their own daughter to ensure she could never leave? so. this fic is essentially natalia and norman fuck off across the galaxy together. the problem is i don't have a plot beyond the two of them bonding & maybe sadie zeb showing up at some point bc i love her. i will probably write more of it when i finally get around to finishing aso but i keep putting it off bc of the whole *gestures at norman's whole deal* and also i know what happens to natalia and it upsets me because i am normal and have a healthy amount of attachment to her :)

she holds the flier from the board out in her hand for him to take. she’s long since memorized the contents — ‘company wanted to travel the galaxy. spaceship experience not required, but an asset. almost all applications considered.’ 

when he doesn't take it, she places it down on the diner table in front of him.

“saw your flier,” she says, taking a seat across from the man who placed it. she takes a long look at him. he's tall and but not quite lanky, too much muscle behind with salt and pepper hair and a mustache, and natalia looks at him for a long moment as she tries to place where she recognizes him from. “you can call me…” she pauses for a moment, realizes she has absolutely no idea what to say. realizes she doesn't want the baggage of natalia but arcadia has baggage too now, and finishes lamely, “talia.”

“norman takamori,” the man says, and it clicks, all of a sudden. 

“you’re the guy who had that hot dog ship and killed those nuns, right?” she asks. his wanted posters had been all over the galaxy for months. 

he cocks an eyebrow at her in response. “you’re the one who was running the guernican art squad, right?” he asks.

she narrows her eyes at him. “used to be,” she says. she'd gotten bored of that, too — [more feelings here]. “how’d you know?” she asks. what she does not say is, ‘most people know me best for being the heir to one of the most famous empire-companies of the galaxy.’

he shrugs. “your voice, it’s… it’s one of the things i remember.”

natalia doesn’t know what that means, but she doesn’t ask. “are you sure? is that really all you recognize me from?” she asks, and she can hear the genuine hope in her voice. she’s frankly curious at this point — not to mention hopeful. all she wanted when she left her family behind was to escape the legacy of her family, and the idea that she was maybe even a little bit successful… it makes her feel a brief twist of hope in her stomach, and she resists the urge to grin stupidly.

“that’s your business, not mine,” he says. “i heard… when i got my life back, there were rumors about you. why you’d called yourself arcadia prime. figured it wasn’t my place to pry.”

“if you’re not going to, i will,” she retorts. some people just aren't ruthless enough in this galaxy. “what do you mean, when you got your life back?”

he heaves a long sigh, looks up at the ceiling, and the two of them sit there for a long moment before he speaks again. the wait-bot comes over and refills norman's coffee precisely to the rim of the cup, where it wobbles for a moment as though it's contemplating  spilling over. “there was a cerebro slug that took over my life, and… my - uh, the people i worked with, they didn’t like me very much, so they just… let it happen.”

“shit,” natalia says. “that fucking blows.”

he chuckles, a dry sardonic laugh that reminds natalia of the red wines she used to have to drink at formal dinners with other company executives that made her tongue feel as though it was going to shrivel up out of her mouth. “you don’t know the half of it, kid.” it's been a long time since anyone called her kid, longer still since she felt like one, but natalia doesn't object. 

they sit there in silence for another long moment, norman lighting a cigarette with a lighter he’s produced from a coat pocket before natalia says, “i don’t… the rumors are right. i have — had, i guess — clones. my parents cloned me when i was a child, and… my mom used to threaten to replace me with my clone every time i was a disappointment.” she fiddles with her hair, wishing it was longer and she looked less nervous when she did it. “and when i couldn’t take the expectations anymore, i broke into the lab and shot my own clone in the head.”

his eyes widen, just slightly, and a small smile paints itself across his face, almost involuntarily. “that’s badass.” 

natalia nods, just slightly, and smiles, a little less slightly. “thank you kindly.”

the two of them sit there in silence for a long time, the wait-bot rolling by and eyeing both their coffees, “i assume they’ll eventually get around to cloning me again,” natalia says softly. norman looks at her, something in his eyes that looks like desperate sadness, but he doesn’t say anything. “i don’t know what i’ll do then. maybe then i’ll kill them, but…” she heaves a sigh. “i don’t know.”

norman takes a long drag from his cigarette. “i don't really have any good advice there,” he says. “i think about killing them a lot. i heard what they said about me. i heard everything, and…” he exhales, smoke clouding in front of his face. “it hurt. but i think if i did kill them, it would just… it would cement everything they said about me. and…” he exhales. “i'm an asshole, sure. but i'm not some kind of fucking sociopath, you know?”

“i don't think you're an asshole,” natalia pipes up. 

“don't worry, kid,” he says, taking another slow drag of his cigarette. “you just met me. there's plenty of time.”

#d20 #aso tag #aso #fic tag #ask tag

[aegonbeingfakeisracist]

Never fear we all love you. Good luck.

🥺🥺🥺🥰🥰🥰 Thank you! You guys are the absolute best.

#riana-one #replies #I am sitting here with a glass of wine working on these applications #and hopefully I will get them done soon #and then I will hopefully be back to gush for Arianne week #can my Arianne week entries be cocktail recipes and incoherent rambling because that's probably all I'll be good for #after spending all my brainpower on applications

[theladyofdeath]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 6}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Shelb’s blogs! >> @snelbz​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

The week had passed by in a blur and by the time Saturday came, all Nesta wanted to do was sleep in. 

But she couldn’t.

Sleeping in wasn’t possible anymore. 

Her alarm had been set for seven, but she woke up with the sun peeking through her curtains at 6:45. She looked at the baby monitor on the nightstand. Nyx was still sound asleep in his crib.

With a groan, she covered her head with her pillow and tried to shut out the light, but it was no use. 

She was wide awake. 

May as well enjoy a cup of coffee before Nyx wakes up. Nesta tossed her legs over the side of the bed and tossed her robe over her pajama shorts and tank top. After pulling her long, golden-brown hair back, she was tiptoeing through the hall and down the stairs.

Once she reached the bottom of the stairs, she could hear noise coming from the kitchen.

The sizzling of bacon being dropped into a skillet.

She had expected it to be Cassian, of course, but what she wasn’t expecting was what he was wearing.

Or, she supposed, what he wasn’t wearing. 

She wasn’t sure if she should go back upstairs, to give him privacy. But he was the one who had chosen to come downstairs like this, in one of the common areas of the house, so Nesta went ahead and walked into the kitchen. She aimed straight for the coffee pot, grateful to see a fresh pot already in the carafe. “Good morning.”

He turned towards her, that broad, muscular chest on full display, thanks to the white towel wrapped around his hips being the only thing he had on. “Morning, Nes. Hope you want breakfast.”

She continued to make her coffee, which was usually easy, considering it was one spoonful of sugar in black coffee, but she was having a distinctly hard time focusing on what she was doing.

She had seen Cassian without a shirt in before, at the few times they’d both been over to swim in Feyre and Rhysand’s pool, but there was something distinctly different about seeing him wearing a pair of swimming trunks and that towel. That towel that was sitting so low on his hips, she knew there could be nothing underneath it.

He didn’t even seem to notice, didn’t even seem to think about her reaction to him standing nearly nude in the kitchen, making breakfast. His hair was still wet, although the ends seemed to be drying. 

She wondered if this is what he looked like in a towel, what he would look like in the shower.

She quickly shook the thought away, even though it couldn’t help but linger in the back of her mind.

“I’ve got eggs, bacon, and toast,” he said, his back to her. She watched his muscles expand as he moved pans around and turned off the burners. “Simple, but it’ll fill you up. We’ll need all the energy we can this morning.”

Nesta cleared her throat and gave him a nod as he turned to face her. It was true, and Nesta was unexcited about it. The two of them would spend their day trying to find a part-time nanny for Nyx for the days that the two of them were both at work at the same time.

They’d had plenty of applicants, some of whom seemed promising. 

Nesta had her fingers crossed.

A plate was set down in front of Nesta, and for a moment, all she could do was stare at it. There was a smiley face made out of a bacon mouth and egg-eyes. Another plate was set in the middle of the table, piled high with toast and jam. 

“What am I, two?” she asked, gesturing to the breakfast face in front of her.

Cassian chuckled. His plate was piled high with bacon and eggs. No room for faces. He sat across from her and leaned on the table with his elbows. “A little smiley face never hurt anybody.”

She said nothing, just picked up her fork and cut into the eggs. She hadn’t even told him she liked her eggs over-medium, but she was glad she did as the semi-runny yolk spilled out onto her plate. Nesta thought about starting something about it, about asking about food preferences before he assumed something, but it was too early and she hadn’t gotten to enjoy nearly enough of her cup of coffee. It was too early to fight. So instead she picked up a crispy piece of bacon and used it to pick up some of the egg, before popping it into her mouth.

Her eyes slipped closed and she tried not to moan.

How could a simple breakfast taste so damn good?

When she opened her eyes again, she assumed she hadn’t been completely successful in stopping her appreciative noises, because he was smirking at her as he brought his own coffee to his lips.

“Told you I make a mean breakfast,” he said, reaching for a piece of toast and slathering it in blackberry jam.

Clearing her throat, she ignored him and continued eating until her plate was completely empty. Just as she was about to get up to rinse it off, he stood, adjusting that damn towel to fit more snuggly around his hips, and picked up both of their plates. She tried her best not to watch the muscles shift in his back as he rinsed the plates and loaded them into the dishwasher. Tried her best, but found herself staring as she sipped from her coffee cup, but snapped herself out of it and got up as well, making Nyx a bottle for when he woke up.

As she shook the formula up, she asked, “Will you be putting clothes on before the applicants get here, or should I warn them this is going to be a clothes-optional interview?”

He glanced at her over a shoulder, as he began to clean the pan he’d cooked the bacon and eggs in, but turned right back to the sink. “Does my nakedness bother you, Nes?”

Damn him, she could hear the smirk in his voice.

“No,” she snapped. “And stop calling me that.”

“So, you like me in a towel, then?” he went on, turning the sink off as he put the final plate in the drain rack.

“You’re exhausting, you know that?” she asked, turning to face him full on.

He turned to her then, one brow raised as he ran a hand through his nearly-dried hair. “I’m just saying, if it bothers you, I’ll be sure to dress before I come down to slave away for you over the stove. But, if it doesn’t bother you, I have to admit that I like to completely dry before I put on clothes.”

No, it didn’t bother her.

No, she didn’t mind having her breakfast with a view.

No, she wouldn’t mind reaching out and feeling just how hard and defined his abs really were.

No, she would never admit to that.

Instead, she raised her chin and said, “I should wake Nyx up so he’s ready before the first applicant arrives.”

“So formal,” he grinned. “And here I thought we were having a nice, pleasant morning.”

A soft cry came from upstairs and she was immediately in motion, all thoughts of those abs and whether or not water from his shower would well in the defined divots of them gone. Snatching up the bottle she’d set on the counter, she turned and headed for the living room and the stairs beyond. “Put some clothes on,” was all

she called back to him as she hurried for Nyx’s nursery.

*

Nesta shut the front door, falling back against the wood, listening as the final interview made her way down the cobblestone walkway.

She sighed and made her way into the kitchen. She needed a glass of wine.

A bottle of wine was more like it, but a glass would do for now.

She found Cassian already standing behind a chair at the kitchen table, the resumes of each applicant spread out before him. “So,” she said, reaching into the fridge for the bottle of chilled, white wine. “What did you think?”

He blew out an equally exhausted breath, before shaking his head. “There was…a lot of variety.”

He was right. There was a woman who had to be in her seventies, who had brought an entire notebook of lesson plans, with her goal to have the one-year-old fluent in French before his third birthday. Then there was the thirteen-year-old who had lied about her age on the application, but promised she could ride her bike the mile and a half from her house every day they needed her. Just not until after three on school days.

“Too much variety,” she agreed. “That last woman was so boring she literally put Nyx to sleep.”

It was true. Nyx was currently sound asleep in the middle of his playmat in the living room, surrounded by his toys. 

“I didn’t mind the retired librarian,” Nesta said, filling her wine glass to the brim. 

Cassian scrunched his nose. “She smelled weird.”

Nesta scoffed. “I don’t think Nyx will be minding her smell. She was smart and was obviously good with him.”

“So was Viviane,” Cassian said, picking up an application off the table.

Nesta blinked. “Viviane?”

“Yeah, Viviane,” he said, showing her the application. “Smart. Bachelors in early childhood education. Lives three miles down the road.”

“Young, blonde, hot,” Nesta added, taking a drink.

Cassian raised an eyebrow. “So you do remember her.”

“I remember that she didn’t have near enough experience and she only listed one reference,” Nesta replied, taking the application and resume from him. She looked it over again. “She can’t be more than twenty-two years old.”

“What does her age have to do with it?” He asked, leaning down on the chair and looking at her. “She’s got good qualifications and Nyx loved her. She was one of the few he actually laughed and wanted to play with.”

It was true, he’d been extremely uncomfortable around most of the applicants. He cried the second a couple of them looked at him and had even spit up on one of them. But he had giggled with Viviane and genuinely seemed to like her.

“She hasn’t worked at a legit daycare or anything, but she’s been a one-on-one nanny before,” Cassian pointed out, as Nesta was reading the same thing on her copy of the resume. “And she said she could get us the numbers of her previous families. She just didn’t want to give them out without asking permission.” He smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. “Sounds like she’d respect our privacy, too. But go ahead, keep thinking of reasons she’s not a good candidate.”

Aside from her perky tits and ass, I can’t think of any. The words almost came from her lips, but Nesta ground her teeth.

“We have to agree on someone, and Viviane can start immediately,” Cassian continued. 

Nesta stared at him for a moment.

He stared back, watching as she sipped from her glass. “I swear to the Mother, Cassian, if you fuck the nanny-.”

Cassian barked an unamused laugh. “You think I have absolutely no self control, don’t you?”

“I think you’re basing this choice off of what you want, not what Nyx needs,” she said, not breaking their eye contact.

“She may be hot, but fucking her would be a lot more trouble than it’s worth,” he admitted. “And Nyx is half Rhys. Don’t forget that. He liked to appreciate pretty things just as much as I do, and I’m sure Nyx will, too.”

Scoffing, Nesta set her glass down and went into the living room to get Nyx. “He’s a baby, not a grown man, with raging hormones. You’re disgusting.” She picked him up, still fast asleep from hearing about the nuances of the differences in a sitter and nanny from the old crone they’d spoken with last. “Call Viviane, let her know she starts tomorrow at eight.”

Cassian met her on the stairs. “I don’t work tomorrow, I can watch him.”

Nesta shrugged, but continued up, carrying a drooling Nyx to his nursery. She hadn’t noticed how close to his nap time it had gotten. “Think of it as an exercise in self-control then, and a test run. See how she does with Nyx and see if you can keep your dick to yourself.”

“I’ve kept it from you pretty easily, haven’t I?” 

Nesta refrained from responding as she carried Nyx into the nursery and laid him down, cracking the door open behind her as she left. Walking back downstairs, she retrieved her wine, purposefully ignoring him, though she felt his eyes on her the whole time. She wouldn’t answer his question, was doing her best not to think about it, especially compounded with memories of him this morning.

She had no idea the muscles leading down by the hips could really be so defined. She thought the illustrious V that dragged your eye downwards on most male models was photoshopped in. Cassian, though, very much proved it not only existed, but that it was as distracting as she’d imagined it could be.

“I’m taking a bath,” she announced, heading back for the stairs. “Let Viviane know she got the job, but she can start whenever you want. If you’ll be off tomorrow, we don’t need to pay her to be here.”

She didn’t wait for his reply, and was in her room with the door shut a few seconds later. She took her time filling the bathtub with the things she found under the counter. There were oils and salts and bubbles and soaps, and by the time Nesta settled into the bubbly, warm water, the entire bathroom smelled like a spa. She sipped her wine, refusing to let her mind wander back to Cassian that morning, but by the time her glass was empty, her head was swimming and the water had begun to go cold.

She got out of the tub, watching as the water swirled down the drain and began toweling off.

And then, she had an idea, to give Cassian a taste of his own medicine.

She grabbed a clean, fluffy, white towel and wrapped it around her chest. And then she headed down to the kitchen for a refill.

Cassian was lying on the couch, one arm tossed behind his head, the other using the remote to flip through the stations on the TV.

He caught Nesta the moment her feet appeared at the top of the stairs.

Nesta’s heartbeat a little bit faster with every step she took.

“This is a new look for you,” Cassian said, simply, even though his voice had lowered an octave since the last conversation they had. “Especially considering you took the master bedroom so that you had your own private bathroom to avoid such run-ins with me.”

Nesta tossed her long, wet hair over her shoulder. “I figured it was okay since you’ve made it perfectly clear that you have no desire to crawl into bed with me. I deemed it safe territory.”

The glass still dangled between her fingers and she heard the couch creak as she turned the corner into the kitchen. She may have grabbed a towel that wasn’t quite as wide as the rest of them, one that didn’t quite come as far down her thighs. But if he wanted to prance around in nothing but his skin, she could do the same.

They were both adults. She had no interest in sleeping with him - so she told herself, at least - and he’d said he had no interest in her.

She poured what was left of the bottle in her glass and threw it into the trash with a clunk. She hadn’t realized she had so little left, but was fairly sure another bottle was in the wine cabinet.

Which was in the living room.

When she re-entered the living room, the volume on the TV was nearly silent and Cassian was sitting up, rather than laying down. One arm was draped across the back of the couch and the other still clutched the remote.

She could feel his eyes on her and she took another drink before reaching around the back of the cabinet for the key and unlocking it.

Not only did she grab another bottle of her favorite wine, but also a good bottle of whiskey, too.

“Planning on getting wasted?” He asked, quietly. 

“Just stocking up,” she replied, locking the cabinet behind her. “Care for a glass?”

Cassian looked around the room, as if she would be talking to anyone else other than her. “Sure.”

“Whiskey, I assume?” she asked, going back into the kitchen for another glass. 

The television was a little bit louder when she returned, but not by much.

She sat on the opposite end of the couch, and set the glasses on the coffee table in front of them. After retrieving the glass bottles, she poured.

Cassian remained perfectly quiet as she did so. 

“Is this a truce?” he asked, as Nesta held the glass out toward him.

“This is a celebratory drink to commemorate finding a nanny today,” Nesta said, although her voice held no warmth. “No matter how young and inexperienced and doomed-to-fail she is.”

She held up her wine glass.

Cassian snorted as he clinked his glass against hers.

She wasn’t paying any attention to whatever he had playing on the TV, and she had a feeling he didn’t either, not as she could feel his stare burning into her. Enough so that she crossed her legs, unintentionally causing the towel to raise even higher attention on the outside of her thigh. It almost exposed her entire hip, which she wasn’t anticipating, but she had made the decision to come down here, to tease him by showing him what he had done to her. She wouldn’t let him see how much his gaze was affecting her.

Even if it was just the wine.

Or so she told herself.

She was just about to stand, to make some excuse for going upstairs when he set his glass down on the coffee table and cleared his throat.

“New house rule. Clothes are required in the common areas. Kitchen, living room, dining room,” he said, ticking them off one by one. “Bedrooms and bathrooms are the only places where this is allowed.”

He gestured towards her, without looking, to make sure his point was understood.

“Why?” She asked innocently, and then she threw his own words back into his face. “Does my nakedness bother you, Cass?”

“Quite the opposite,” he admitted, adjusting himself.

Nesta pretended she didn’t notice.

“I thought you had no issue keeping yourself in check with me,” Nesta said, her voice low. “I thought you weren’t some untamed male with raging hormones.”

“I’m not,” he said, reaching to refill his glass. “At least, not until a beautiful woman is sitting a foot away from me, soaked, in a towel, pouring me whiskey.”

“I’m not soaked,” she said, without thinking it through. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

When Cassian looked at her, he grinned, but his eyes were dark. “I meant your hair.”

Nesta knew her plan had immediately backfired, either that or she’d had far too much to drink, so she simply nodded and stood heading back for the staircase.

“Nes?”

She turned back to look at him, halfway up the staircase.

He was smirking, that glass of whiskey resting on the arm of the couch. “If you ever do find yourself soaked, you know where to find me.”

She was up the stairs and slamming her door in a flash, trying to ignore his quiet laughter.

#nessian #LAWKI #collab #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf #nesta #cassian #nesta x cassian #cassian x nesta #fanfic #fanfiction #sjm #modern au #movie au

[bungeenomin]

COMPETITION- KIM DOYOUNG

genre: e2l doyoung x reader 

word count: 5.2k

summary: your entire life, your neighbour has been nothing but competition. from as soon as you had the ability to form an opinion on people, it was engrained in you to hate kim doyoung. but can you still hate him when you reunite as adults after getting hired under by same company? is he still competition?

warning: oral (m+f receiving), dirty talk, sex

a/n: feel free to send me requests, asks and leave feedback!

main masterlist

from when you were a kid, you were taught to hate the kim family. ironically, both your parents and mr and ms kim pretended to like each other. they acted like they didn’t completely despise one another, but they knew they did, everyone did. the feud was so petty, you’ll admit. your families constantly competing with who was the richest, who had the nicest car, who had the better education, who’s children were more talented. no matter how petty you knew the feud was, it was ingrained in you to hate kim doyoung with all your being, and that’s exactly what you did.

when your parents and the kim’s pretended to get on, you and doyoung never dared speak to each other. in both of your eyes, you were just competition, feeding into your parents on going feud. as you sat glaring at each other at dinner meals, your parents would brag back and forth about how amazing their dear children are, constantly trying to one up each other and get the last word.

you didn’t hate anyone, you thought hating was harsh. but kim doyoung was different. you had deep, deep hatred for him. your only conversations were cold, offensive, hateful. he was an obstacle in the way of your success from the day you were born until the day you moved away for college. he was nothing but competition.

December 5th 2020

“good look today my love” your mother beams through the phone, full of pride. it’s your first day at your new job, an extremely well paid job, a job to make your parents proud of you. 

“thank you mom but i have to go now, being late on the first day wouldn’t leave a very good impression” you sigh, grabbing your handbag from the passenger seat and exiting your car, locking it behind you. “i’ll fill you in later mom, okay?”

“yes, yes of course!” your mother enthusiastically responds. “your father and i are so proud of you, talk to you later”

you sigh, locking your phone. you love your parents, you really do, but sometimes they can be intense. too intense. in their minds, everything has to be perfect first try. according to them, successful people leave no room for errors. they leave no one pass their level of success. they get distracted by no one, keep their eye on the prize. 

the building is exactly the same as you remember it from your interview, extremely large, but not too difficult to find your way around, signs and directions places frequently throughout the building. “hello, my name is y/n, i start working here today” you confidently tell the receptionist. 

“ah yes” she responds, “one of mr lee’s new recruits”. one of? clearly multiple people were taken on at once, not that it’ll be a problem to you. “follow me, i’ll lead you to where the rest are waiting” she smiles softly, walking you down a corridor and into a waiting room. “mr lee will be with you shortly!” 

there are four or five people in the room, you assume all starting work today, but your eyes lock on one person. kim doyoung. after what, five, six years? he looks the exact same, slightly better skin with more prominent facial features. he wears a slick black suit. classic. he can’t help the cold chuckle that leaves his lips the second his eyes land on you, eyeing you up and down in the process, judgementally. the last thing you expected was to see him here. after all the years you spent competing with him, you never thought that you would be back at it again after college.

“long time no see” he mutters. 

you roll your eyes, “yeah, pity, i finally erased your ugly face and shitty attitude from my memory and now i’ll have to start all over again” 

doyoung chuckles leaning closer to you, “ouch, i’m hurt. well now you have plenty of time to watch me beat you, like i always have done”

“you fucking wi-”

“hello everyone, nice to meet you all as employees and not applicants this time. as i’m sure you’re aware, i am the ceo of this company. i take great pride in my company and only hire the best of the best, people who i know will aid my companies success”

“shame he hired you then” doyoung whispers. 

“now, i am a busy man, but that does not mean i won’t see if people are slacking. If you are slacking, you get one warning. If you continue to not put in one hundred percent, you’re fired. it’s as simple as that. i will constantly be able to view your work, so i expect everyone’s full effort. i believe i pay you very well for your job, so expect it to be done well. anyway, with that being said, welcome to the company! i hope we can all do great work together” 

as soon as mr lee finishes his introductory speech, you are brought to your offices. it is one big room but fortunately, there are walls between each desk, allowing for privacy to work. you notice there is someone in between you and doyoung, which you are eternally grateful for, you really don’t know how you would be able to work to the best of your ability knowing he’s beside you. 

it doesn’t take you long to get stuck into your work load. quickly setting up your desk to your liking and turning on your computer. honestly, the morning goes really fast. with the work load you have, you’re constantly busy. what distracts you slightly is when you see a familiar face walk to mr lee’s desk, handing him a stack of papers he was working on, ready for mr lee to read. “thank you doyoung, i appreciate your hard work already”. with that doyoung turns to go back to his desk, not before looking your way and sending you a sarcastic smile. fucking idiot. 

by the time lunch rolls around, you’re just excited to try the food that is served in the cafeteria, everything looking and smelling delicious, leaving your mouth watering. once you get your food, you sigh in defeat as you look around for a table to sit at, only to be left disappointed when you see they’re all full. your eyes slowly pan the cafeteria, looking for anywhere you can possibly sit, until your eyes land on a free seat, beside the one and only, kim doyoung, who’s sat quietly on his phone as he eats his lunch. him working here is going to be more hard than you thought. 

“can i sit here?” you question. 

“gosh y/n, looks like you’re a little obsessed with me huh?” doyoung replies, a smug look on his face. 

“you fucking wish. i wouldn’t come near you unless it was absolutely necessary, which unfortunately, it is. there’s no other seats” 

“whatever” doyoung rolls his eyes, looking back down at his phone as you take your seat. arrogant prick. 

“so” doyoung speaks up amid the awkward silence, “how has little y/n been?”. to anyone else, they would think he was being nice, but you know he’s just nosy. prying into your business as usual. 

“i’ve been great. i graduated top of my year in university, got to travel a lot. all good things” you reply, a smug expression on your face. 

“you know y/n you should really get the stick out of your ass, it’s very unprofessional” doyoung replies, him now wearing a smug expression as yours drops. 

“oh fuck you doyoung”

“i’m sure you’d love to sweetheart” 

the rest of the day went relatively fast, without any more encounters with doyoung, thankfully. before you know it, you’re back in the comfort of your own apartment, relaxing with a glass of wine. you’ve already informed your parents about your first day, causing them to almost burst with pride. what throws them off slightly is the mention of doyoung. ‘don’t mind him’ you mother advised. ‘don’t let him get in your way’ your father informed. not that you intended to take notice of him, certainly not intending on letting him get in your way. 

December 14th 2020

working with doyoung is proving to be a lot harder than it seems. he’s very, in your face. always chiming in with his opinion and what he thinks is right. his presence alone gets on your nerves, let alone when he opens his mouth. to everyone else, he seems like a great, hardworking guy, but to you, he’s just in your way. a headache. an inconvenience. 

“doyoung these files are for you” you sigh standing at doyoung’s desk with your hand extended. 

doyoung looks up from his desk, taking the files from your hand and flicking through them. “no they aren’t” he nonchalantly responds, handing them back to you. 

“doyoung why the fuck would i lie about something so stupid?” you scoff, rolling your eyes at his stupidity. “these are for you”

doyoung sits back in his chair, folding his arms. “how do i know you’re not just loading your work onto me, hmm?”

“fucking hell doyoung why are you the most difficult person in the world? jesus. they’re yours. take them, if you don’t do them, it’s you falling behind, not me” you groan, once again extending your arm out with the files that doyoung insists don’t belong to him. as doyoung takes the files from you, your hands brush off each other swiftly, but it’s enough to make your cheeks turn pink to your dismay. 

doyoung chuckles slightly at your reaction to such a small touch. “are you okay?” doyoung questions, playing innocent. 

“of course i am” you respond sharply. 

“whatever you say darling” doyoung chuckles turning his attention back to his computer, leaving you standing there with your mouth hanging at his words. “it’s rude to stare y/n, am i that attractive to you?” doyoung asks, completely focused on his computer screen. 

“fuck off” you mumble before storming back to your office. that’s the thing about doyoung. he’s cocky. too cocky. always thinking he’s better than everyone, above everyone. thinks he’s beautiful. he makes you sick. 

doyoung doesn’t mean to stare. he honestly doesn’t. he catches himself doing it quite often though. the coffee machine is placed in perfect eye line of your desk. it just so happens that doyoung spends a lot of time at the coffee machine. he convinces himself that he looks in anger. you stress him out after all. you’re his enemy. his competition. he never gets caught staring at you, well, until now. “it’s rude to stare kim!” you shout at him from your seat when your eyes meet his, only earning an eye roll from doyoung. you giggle lightly at his reaction. you’ve always loved getting under his skin. 

December 19th 2020

you honestly thought your day was going great. there was very little traffic, no line at the coffee machine, you were way ahead on your work. That was until your boss entered your office, asking specifically that you and doyoung stay back a few hours to get through some work with him. of course, this is your worst nightmare, but who are you to turn down your boss?

“just wait inside my office” mr lee announces to the two of you, “i’ll be back in a few minutes i just have a quick phone call to take”.

the silence between both you and doyoung is severe as you sit in the two seats across from mr lee’s. you try think of something to say, literally anything, to break the awkward silence, but you can’t think of anything. reflecting now, you and doyoung have ever had a casual civil conversation.

“doyoung can we just- can we just cut the shit for this?” doyoung raises an eyebrow in curiosity. “we’re doing this with our boss, and the snappy comments and awkwardness is just gonna look bad, so can we just pretend we don’t hate each other for this”

“fine” doyoung snaps, crossing his arms over his chest and facing straight ahead, you doing the same. once again, the silence is deafening. it’s been a significant length of time since your boss left now, probably getting caught up on the call. “remember that year our families went to the lake together?”

you look across at doyoung, thrown back by his sudden conversation starter. “of course i do, it was a fucking disaster” you chuckle lightly, thinking back on the events.

“the literal worst” doyoung responds. “it felt more like family bootcamp than a break”. it really did. both of your dads spent the whole trip trying to one up each other, making sure their family was presenting themselves as best as they could the entire time. It was intense. 

“no, the worst was when our dads kept trying to one up each other on the jet ski’s” you giggle, “they literally just embarrassed each other”. at the time, you hated the trip. you felt tense the whole time, on edge. looking back now, you can’t help but to laugh at the mayhem. 

“they really did” doyoung cringes, remembering how hard his dad tried to show off his ‘jet ski skills’ when in reality, he was a complete amateur, just like your dad. 

“we beat you in the family tennis tournament though” you tease, remembering how happy you were with the victory. 

“oh whatever, as if i was gonna go hard on a girl. i’m way better than you” doyoung scoffs. 

“oh my god, remember when our dads decided to make a barbecue together!” you laugh loudly, your eyes welling with tears. 

“stop that was so bad” doyoung chuckles, “we just ended up with way too much food and they burned half of it”

once you both calm down from your fit of laughter. there’s a weird atmosphere. everything feels lighter. you and doyoung sit there for a minute, just staring at each other with silly smiles on your face. “i still fucking hate you”

“thank fuck for that” doyoung replies, rolling his eyes once again, playfully this time.

“i’m so sorry!” mr lee announces as he barges into the office. “i’ve kept you here for over an hour without doing anything. look, just go home for tonight i’m so sorry” the older man sighs.

you and doyoung ensure him it’s okay, before getting up and leaving, going your separate ways into the old december night. 

December 24th 2020

the usual christmas eve agenda didn’t even cross your mind when you started your new job. of course, your christmas eve will be spent in doyoung’s families house. this was typical of your families at christmas, the host house alternating every year. 

“merry christmas!” ms kim greets at the door, allowing you enter into her home. “go to doyoung sweetie, he’ll get you a drink” she suggests, extending her arm to the living room, where sure enough, doyoung was. 

doyoung’s eyes devour your figure as you stand in front of him. your dress hugging your figure beautifully, showing you off in all the right places. “your mom told you to get me a drink” you say, an eyebrow raised. 

“wine?”

“red”

soon after you giving your order and taking a seat on the now empty couch, doyoung returns, two glasses of red wine in his hand, taking a seat beside you. “don’t you want to go into the dining room with everyone else?” 

“do you really want to listen to them more than you have to?” doyoung questions, earning a giggle from you as you sip on the expensive wine.

“absolutely not” you reply, getting comfortable on the couch, facing doyoung slightly. “are you going to the new years party in work?” 

“mhmm. it’ll be nice. it also would leave a bad impression on the boss if i didn’t show” doyoung replies sipping on his wine. things are weird between you two since the day in mr lee’s office. it’s like something switched inside the two of you. maybe it’s because you’re speaking as adults now, not children. maybe it’s because you’re both independent of your parents. for whatever reason, you can’t find the same hatred you had for doyoung previously. “are you going?” 

“mhmm” 

“will you look as beautiful as you do now?” doyoung questions, tilting his head slightly sideways. 

“w-what?” 

doyoung leans in, so close to your lips, eyes stuck on them. you close your eyes, thinking doyoung was about to close the gap between, but instead he whispers in your ear, “maybe you’ll get a midnight kiss”

“doyoung, y/n dinner come on!”  

doyoung stands up, a smug smirk on his lips as he extends a hand to help you up. 

“You’re insatiable Kim Doyoung”

December 31st 2020 

the work new years eve party is going much better than you thought it would. everyone mingling, getting to know each other more than just ‘the person in the office beside me’. everyone is currently sat on the rooftop of the building, a cozy little set up. the addition of alcohol in the coworkers interactions allows them to feel a lot more casual and at easy with each other. 

“everyone it’s just time! come on” someone shouts from beside the large projector mr lee had brought up for the countdown. everyone rises from their seats, glasses of champagne in their hands as they walk towards the projector. 

“ten”

“nine”

“eight”

“seven”

“six”

“five”

you feel an arm sling around you wait. looking up your eyes meet doyoung’s.

“four”

“three”

your heart is pounding in your chest as you get closer and closer to finishing the countdown, doyoung’s eyes remain glued on yours, like no one else is present.

“two”

you place a hand gentle on his upper chest.

“one”

“happy new year” doyoung whispers.

“happy new year”. before you can even process the celebratory screams and shouts around you, you feel a soft pair of lips against your own.

the kiss is so soft, delicate, lips gently placed together. you pull back slightly, looking up at doyoung, who rubs soft circles on your waist. you pull doyoung closer to you, wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him closer to you, the body on body contact driving you wild. The kiss this time is harsher, needier, more desperate, your lips moving passionately against each other with such ease.

reality hits doyoung, remembering you are surrounded by colleges. he pulls back and whispers in your ear, “let’s get out of here baby, hmm?”

your back is against doyoung’s door the second you both make it into his apartment, doyoung’s lips attacking your neck, peppering it in kisses, sucking large marks all over. “mmh doyoung” you moan, tilting your head to the side, allowing the man have more access.

“jump” doyoung mumbles against your neck, tapping your thighs lightly as an indication, to which you comply. you jump, wrapping your legs around doyoung’s waist, him holding your legs up with his arms, his hands resting on your ass squeezing it as he begins bringing you to his room. “gonna fuck you so good” doyoung announces, nipping on your neck.

doyoung lays you on your back, him on top of you, not once detaching his lips from your neck. your hands find their way to the hem of his shirt, tugging at it, signalling for doyoung to remove the garment. doyoung complies, pulling back to unbutton his shirt, throwing it to the other side of the room. “your dress is so pretty baby, but i think it’ll look prettier on the floor” and with that, doyoung removes your beautiful red dress, allowing it to move to the floor, leaving you in your red lace lingerie. “fuck baby, you look so good for me” doyoung praises, already working on unclasping your bra.

the second your breasts are free from the confines of your bra, doyoung’s lips are on your right nipple, sucking on it harshly, flicking his tongue across the sensitive nub, leaving you a moaning mess. doyoung doesn’t neglect your other boob, messaging it with his large hand, pinching and twirling your nipple between two fingers. “fuck doyoung” you moan, grappling onto his hair, a small groan escaping doyoung’s lips in response, the vibrations against your nipple driving you wild.

doyoung trails kisses all the way down your stomach, making sure to leave his mark on the way. “you want me so bad huh? you’re a moaning mess for me already baby” doyoung smirks against your skin. 

“doyoung, i’m supposed to fucking hate you” you moan out as doyoung starts kissing along the lining of your soaking wet panties. 

“baby, we both know we’re passed that point now” doyoung chuckles as he pulls down your destroyed panties, proud of the mess he caused as he see’s your glistening folds, your juices starting to drip down your thigh. 

doyoung places open mouthed kisses on your thighs, taking in all of you. worshiping every inch of your body, the whimpers escaping your throat being music to his ears. “mmh fuck doyoung” you moan as doyoung licks a stripe up your dripping folds, collecting your juices on his tongue. 

“taste so good baby” doyoung groans, dragging two fingers up your folds and bringing them to your mouth letting you taste yourself, airy whines leaving your lips as you suck on his slender fingers. “gonna make you feel so good” 

with no warning, doyoung shoved two fingers into your tight hole, a scream escaping your lips as he does so. “f-fuck doyoung faster” you moan, grabbing the bed sheets tightly. doyoung listens, picking up his pace, fucking your dripping core with his fingers faster than you can even process.

the room is filled with your load moans, your legs shaking as doyoung’s pace gets faster and faster. doyoung smirks at you before bending down and attaching his lips to your clit, gaining a scream from you as your eyes roll to the back of your head. “doyoung i’m gonna cum fuck” you moan, grabbing onto his hair tightly.

doyoung moans against your clit, sending you over the edge. doyoung’s fingers and mouth don’t stop as you reach your high, continuining to move the whole way through and continuing after, sending your body into shock. “fuck doyoung i came already stop” you moan, causing doyoung to finally let you calm down, stopping his actions and looking at you with a proud look on his face.

doyoung meets your lips again, placing a chaste kiss on them before whispering in your ear, “you haven’t even taken my dick yet angel”. you look at him with doe eyes, as you feel his hard dick through his pants rub against your stomach.

“are you gonna take me like a good girl, hm?” doyoung questions, tucking your hair behind your ear. you respond with a nod but that’s not enough for doyoung. “words angel. use them”

“yes doyoung”

“good girl” he smiles, placing another quick peck on your lips before leaning back to remove his now very tight suit pants and boxers, allowing his hard dick to slap against his stomach, earning a small whimper from you.

“sit up for me baby” doyoung smiles, extending a hand for you to take, helping you sit up. “knees angel”

you comply to doyoung’s request, getting on your knees for him, now eye level with his hard length. doyoung pumps himself twice before tapping his length against your lips, giving you the hint to open for him, which you do.

you wrap your mouth around his leaking tip, collecting his precum on your tongue, earning a groan from doyoung. you move your lips to the base of his length, dragging your tongue all the way back to the top from the bottom, following the vein the goes the whole way up. “stop teasing fuck” doyoung grunts, grabbing a fist full of your hair. “suck”

you once again wrap your mouth around his tip, but before you could move by yourself, doyoung shoves your head down his entire length, hitting the back of your throat and causing you to gag. “pretty” doyoung smirks, enjoying the tears welling up in your eyes as you look up at him as he fucks your throat. moans and groans spill out of doyoung’s lips as your tongue works wonders on his hard length. a moan escapes your lips, causing his eyes to roll back in his head. “enough”doyoung groans, pulling your head off of him, “i’m not cumming until i fuck you baby”

doyoung effortlessly lifts you up, laying you down in the middle of his king sized bed. “do i need a con-”

“no!” you reply sharply. “no i’m on birth control. you don’t need one” you blush at your quick response.

“fuck you’re perfect” doyoung groans, attaching your lips together for the umpteenth time tonight. you’ve had your fair share of kisses, but none of them feel like doyoung’s. his lips feel like they’re made for you. your mouths move in perfect synchronisation, making you feel so whole, so excited.

you moan against doyoung’s lips as you feel his dick against your wet folds. “doyoung please i need you” you whine against his lips, earning a smirk from doyoung.

“so desperate for me angel” he teases. “how badly do you need me?” he questions, teasing you more by just sticking the head of his length in you.

“mmh fuck so bad doyoung i need you so bad, please” you plead, eyes wide showing your desperation.

“good girl” doyoung kisses you softy before moving his hips slowly, moving inside you inch by inch until he bottoms out, both of you whimpering at the feeling. “ready?”

“yes please move” you whimper underneath him.

doyoung wastes no time in grinding his hips in and out of you, fucking you at a fast pace. “you look so pretty angel” doyoung praises, “i love how fucked out you look for me”

“f-fuck doyoung” you moan as he picks his pace up again, you grabbing onto his forearms. “fucking me so good mmh”

doyoung throws back his head in pleasure, your words making him harder and harder, snapping his hips more harshly into you. “you’re so tight for me angel. such a good girl. you make me feel so good angel. all those pretty moans”

doyoung’s praises earn a loud moan from you, digging your nails into his back. you feel doyoung twitch inside you, he’s close. “my good girl. you’re mine angel aren’t you?”

“mmh yes doyoung fuck, just yours, no one else”

doyoung brings his hand to your clit, thumbing the bundle of nerves rapidly as a string of moans escape your lips. “cum with me baby yeah?”

“mmh yes fuck” you moan loudly as you both reach your highs. loud moans from both of you bounce off the walls at your euphoric feeling. “fuck” you whisper as doyoung pulls out of you carefully, his cum dripping out of your hole.

doyoung throws himself down beside you, pulling you into his arms, peppering your face in gentle kisses. “my good girl. you did so good for me baby, so so good” he praises, moving your hair out of your face. “i’m gonna get you cleaned up my love, okay? i’ll be back in a second” he says, placing a delicate kiss on your forehead and walking to the bathroom. 

doyoung returns a minute later with a wet wash cloth, sitting in between your legs. “i’ll try be gentle angel” doyoung warns, earning an appreciative smile from you. 

“Ah sore, sore, sore” you complain as doyoung meddles at your sensitive area. 

doyoung pouts seeing your pain. “sorry baby, i’m done now”. doyoung throws the wash cloth in his laundry basket before climbing back into bed with you, something he hopes he can get used to doing. he pulls you close against his chest and plays with your hair, as if he’d lose you if he didn’t hold you tight. 

“doyoung?” you question, looking up at him with soft eyes. 

“yes baby?”

“why did we spend so long hating each other” you frown. 

“well when we were kids, it was inevitable. but when i became a teenager, it was easier to still hate you than to admit my feelings for you” doyoung shrugs. 

“huh?” you reply confused. he liked you then?

“i liked you a lot when we were teenagers silly” doyoung chuckles. “you’re beautiful, you always have been, you can’t blame me!”

“so you were mean to me because you liked me” you scoffed playfully. 

“exactly” he chuckles, placing a soft kiss to your cheek. 

“you know y/n” doyoung speaks, “when i liked you back then, i knew we wouldn’t get together while still living at home. i knew we were both too stubborn, and our parents would be too difficult. but i told myself that i’d wait for you. that in the future, we’d meet again and you’d be mine. now, i have you, and it was so worth the wait. 

you can’t believe what you’re hearing. the kim doyoung who caused you all that struggle and strife, has been waiting to call you his. wants to love you. wants to be there for you. “bold of you to assume i want to be yours” you tease, sticking your tongue out at him. 

“well do you want to leave me?” he responds with an amused raised eyebrow. 

“never” you whisper, connecting your lips once again, your new favourite hobby. 

January 1st 2021

you had the best sleep of your life last night, in the arms of the one you love. you had the best morning of your life, waking up to cuddles, kisses, breakfast, coffee. it was nice having breakfast with him, the small talk and jokes, it just felt so domestic. so normal. so right. 

“babe, they’re going to be staring at my neck” you pout, as doyoung takes the keys out of the ignition as you pull up outside your workplace. 

“good” doyoung smirks, “they need to know you’re mine”. with a quick kiss on the lips, you’re both out of the car, walking towards the company building. 

walking in to your work hand and hand with doyoung, your neck littered in hickeys from him feels so right. you’re proud to be his. proud to let everyone know. you get some looks from coworkers as you walk through the building, but you couldn’t care less. he’s yours. 

“i’ll see you at lunch angel” doyoung smiles, leaning up against your office wall. 

“that’s if you can resist me for the long” you giggle. 

doyoung rolls his eyes playfully, “brat”  

never in a million years would you have believed you would end up loving kim doyoung. up until two months ago, he was nothing but competition to you. an obstacle to you. now, you want to be with him all the time. you love seeing his head sticking around the corner of your office when he’s at the coffee machine. you love hearing him talk. you love seeing him thrive at his job, no longer seeing him as competition. after all these years, you and doyoung are on the same team. your own team, not your parents. telling your parents about your relationship will probably be, a lot, but you’ll go through whatever it takes for kim doyoung. now you have him, you’re never letting go. 

———————————————————————

@bubudays @uhyikesbro @whoe-dis @nctxtrash @junglewoos @ajhdr @obligatoryidolblog

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[softomi]

now accepting boyfriend applications.

based on my fic idea: you’ve just become newly single, in a drunken fit, you posted a status indicating you’re accepting applications for your next boyfriend. Oddly, three boys take you up on that; sending in their most professional resumes for the position. It seems there’s some fierce competitors. 

next up: literature

It hurt, why wouldn’t it hurt. Your boyfriend of almost two years dumped you over text message with no warning and his reason? He just wasn’t feeling it anymore, what the fuck. Well, twenty phone calls, a hundred text messages sent to him, and a pretty nasty voicemail. The moment you realized just how crazy you were being was when you began pounding on his door at almost ten at night. His neighbors poking their head out to stare, and it really smacked you in the face how stupid you were being.

So you threw caution into the wind. it’s a Wednesday night, your first class tomorrow didn’t start until noon and you’re literature teacher was more of a lecturer so she probably won’t notice if you’re hung over. If anything, you could always ask the guy next to you for the notes.

Thus, you decide to throw back shots to your heart’s desire, sitting in the middle of your tiny studio apartment, on your bed to scream and cry at the romance movie. Love is dead. You groan loudly when your neighbor knocks against the wall, trying to tell you to promptly shut the fuck up.

Halfway through the movie, your mind is already swaying. Your throat stings just momentarily and you sip your cheap wine in hope it’ll dull the shots you had taken previously. When the male protagonist kisses the beautiful female of his dreams, you promptly chug the rest of the wine in your glass. Upset at their love, you wrap your lips around the tip of the wine bottle, drinking straight from it.

“I can find someone better.” You’ve reached a different point in your post break up sadness, you were mixed with anger, sadness, and an overall feeling of I’ll find someone with a better dick.

It’s never a good decision to post on social media while drunk, but it’s a great decision right now. You were going to post a ‘newly single’ status. Just to be nice and not spam everyone, you think you’ll just post it to your private account for your five friends to see. You’ve clearly neglected that step when you press post and it uploads to your public twitter account.

The urge to hurl takes priority over the sudden notifications on your phone. Your hair disheveled as you’re trying to hold onto the toilet, hold onto your hair, and throw up at the same time. The romance film comes to an end once you’ve fully emptied your stomach. You shove all the things off your bed, food falling onto the floor, empty bottle of wine rolled under your bed, remote lost somewhere. You fall asleep despite your cell phone going off.

The alarm jolts you, it causes you to scream, your palm slapping the snooze button and you aggressively pull the wire so that it comes out of the socket. Your head is throbbing and your cell phone is ringing at the same time. Annoyed, your hand stretches along the bed trying to find your cell. When you come emptyhanded, you sit up. Your hand steading the pulsing of your brain and you spot your phone ringing and vibrating on the ground.

“What?” You spit out, not bothering to look at the contact as you try to block out the sun.

“What do you mean what?” The voice snaps at you, “You post about boyfriend applications all of a sudden, did you guys break up?”

Of course he would be the one calling you, the person who loves gossip more than you do, “Tooru, can you like shut up for a second.” Your brain is dying and he’s over here trying to get the latest dish on your love life, “He dumped me okay.”

“That asshole.” He gasps, “Do you want me to come over?”

You look at the time on your cell briefly, “No. I have class all day. If you’re free later?”

“Of course!”

The phone call ends and rather than getting ready for the class you have in an hour, you’re checking your notifications. You have about twenty missed calls from Oikawa, another thirty text messages from him, he even left a voicemail; god he must have been desperate. Facebook is bland, you spent most of your time on Instagram deleting the photos of your now ex, and rarely do you ever get Twitter notifications. Oddly, you have fifteen notifications; all coming from your public account.

haha, boyfriend applications are official open. only taking serious apps lol

“No.” You sit up.

It wasn’t your post that freaked you out, it wasn’t that somehow it ended up on your public account, no you could delete it and pretend as if no one saw it but people saw it.

Is she serious?

If she is, I’m down.

What does serious applications mean?

Three comments, five likes, and four retweets.

And three unread messages.

Your finger rushes to delete the tweet before it can be retweeted even more by random classmates. All was good now. Your finger presses onto the message icon, you’re confronted with the icons of three of your classmates.

The most recent is from Miya Atsumu, a terrible flirt in your biology class. He chose the seat next to you in lab when his friends ditched him and hoarded their own table. He spun around in his chair, shooting you a cheeky grin when you briefly looked at him.

His first sentence was, “Hey you’re cute.”

And yours was, “I have a boyfriend.”.

You skip over his message upon spotting his use of sweetheart in the preview.

The next icon is of the guy in your intro to business class, Kuroo Tetsuro. The first time you saw him was outside of the classroom, you two ended up accidentally reaching the doors at the same time. He lets you go in first and the both of you chose the seats farthest from the board, and closest to the door. Despite his bed hair that made him look like he was going to sleep the entire class, he was a rather studious guy; chill but smart, he was a business major after all.

“Did you understand anything he was saying?” You murmur to him as you grab your bag.

“Of course!” He states, “I don’t look at twitter on my laptop when he’s lecturing.” Ah, he caught you.

Your eyes briefly scan the preview, he’s saying something about a resume and you think he’s talking about the homework assignment. You’re about to click on his first when the last catches your eye.

It’s from Akaashi Keiji. On the first day of class, you were late due to waiting in line for coffee. You awkwardly opened the door to the classroom, everyone turning to stare, and you lower your head, choosing a random seat that now you’re stuck with for the rest of the semester because that’s just how college works. The professor goes over the syllabus and suddenly announces that the person sitting to your right will be your revision partner for the semester.

“Hey.” You stop him and for a brief minute you feel your heart skip a beat because he was absolutely pretty, “Sorry, I’m Y/n. Since we’re going to be partners, do you want to exchange info?”.

“Uh. Sure. I’m Akaashi Keiji.”

“I’m going to be late for my business class. Do you have twitter?” You were never a fan of giving your phone number out. Before he can answer, you’re scribbling your username onto a piece of paper, placing it on his desk before running out to catch your next class.

His message is brief: Did you get my email?

You click his message first; it must have been urgent if he messaged and emailed you. There’s nothing else to his message, his previous one dates almost a week before his current one, telling you that he finished reading the book you recommended and that he enjoyed it.

The screen is pulled up with your finger, alternating apps to your personal email. The subject of his email simply reads Application.

Curiously, you click the attachment he’s sent with no body text. Your jaw dropped, hand placed over your open mouth and a small scream emitting.

“Is he fucking serious?”

His name is displayed at the top, along with his birthday, star sign, zodiac sign, age, even the pronouns he uses. There’s a short sentence under it. I am submitting an application for the position of Boyfriend. You’re internally screaming, blinking fast hoping that this was a joke but his ‘application’ reads like a resume. It lists his education from middle school to his current, his previous jobs, his skills, and his own personal goals for the future.

Your blushing profusely, you want to pull your hair, scream, even throw your phone but you shove down the feelings that want to have you die of embarrassment. You don’t have the energy to sadly explain to him that you were drunk and weren’t serious; ugh and you’re going to have to continue seeing him for the rest of the semester.

You revert back to twitter; your heart suddenly drops when you think about Kuroo’s message. Quickly, you pull up the messages, clicking his and suddenly you want dig yourself a grave because he’s sent a link to a pdf and it’s simply titled Resume. He probably used a resume template and never changed the title.

And sure enough, it’s a fucking professional resume declaring the certain skills he has to be your boyfriend. In fact, like the professional business major he is, he includes a letter of intent; indicating his reasons of interest for the position. It details the little quirks he finds cute about you. You want to break your phone in half with how red in the face you feel.

As you exit his message, you’re slowly praying that Atsumu’s message is just a random flirty comment that he occasionally likes to throw you once in a while or perhaps you’re hoping that he fell in a ditch and you won’t have to work with him for the rest of the semester since he almost blew up the lab station last time.

Nope, it’s a link to a google document. Oddly, you click it. Your heart has sunk to the pit of the earth because when you open the document, you see his fucking name in the upper right corner indicating he’s still on the stupid document.

Fuck fuck fuck. You’re running away from the document, aggressively leaving the page but it doesn’t help that when you end up back at your twitter messages, you can see the three dots, telling you he’s typing.

Morning sweetheart hope you enjoy the app

He sends it with a flirty wink and you stare at it for five full minutes. Curiosity gets the best of you and you click back onto his link, he’s no longer on the same document and you sigh safely. For someone who’s barely passing biology, his document was rather professionally detailed. Damn, he’s on the school’s volleyball team? Weirdly the page cuts off halfway, you continue to scroll until the next title page boldly states: Bedroom skills.

It didn’t help that you were scrolling a little too fast and caught sight of an image showing off his toned upper body. There goes his professionalism.

Your phone suddenly blares low battery, your screen turns black and now your anxiety is through the roof. You jump on your bed, trying to plug in your phone and you’ve just now realized that it is thirty minutes until your first class starts and it is literature. You’re scrambling to find your laptop, you trip on the bag of chips from last night, awkwardly trying to stand as you reach for your school bag.

“Shit!” You scream. You suddenly remember letting your stupid ex-boyfriend borrow your laptop.

You fall to the floor, fingers pulling your hair as you suddenly think about the deep shit your in. First, your boyfriend dumped you, now you randomly have three guys who sent you applications to be your next boyfriend and you’re still going to have to see them for the rest of the semester if you reject them. Lastly, you’re going to have to go to your ex’s place to get your laptop after having made a scene yesterday, and your phone is dead so you can’t cry to Oikawa about the deep shit you’re in.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #kuroo x reader #atsumu x reader #akaashi x reader #haikyuu scenarios #atsumu scenarios #kuroo scenarios #akaashi scenarios #kuroo #atsumu #akaashi #kuroo tetsurou #atsumu miya #akaashi keiji #hq #hq scenarios

[lastxviolet]

Madripoor is for Lovers (Zemo x F!Reader) - Ch. 2

Summary: Y/N is a SWORD agent recruited to help Sam and Bucky track down Karli and the super-soldiers. When Helmut Zemo joins the team, he takes a special interest in her. The friendly union is wrought for disaster, but then things take a turn for the worst when Y/N is taken as collateral. Will Zemo keep her forever? Does she even want to escape? And what happened in Madripoor that made the whole thing so complicated?

Warnings: 18+ / eventual smut / kidnapping

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32878015/chapters/81589774

The plane completed its descent, jolting you awake and away from the dream of what happened next.

His hands inside your dress and the moment in the evening that stopped feeling like an act.

“We are here,” he confirmed, gripping your hand and leading you from the plane.

The air wasn’t cold anymore and smelled like spring. It was May in the states and DC had felt the same so it was possible that you were still in the northern hemisphere. The United States and Canada weren’t options for the criminal, neither was Germany.

Italy?

He spoke to the driver in German and although you recognized the words, you had no clue what they meant. A short drive later and the car stopped. He untied the blindfold and you took in the sight of a lone chateau at the end of a lavish driveway. He opened the door and motioned for you to follow.

“No gun,” you questioned, eyeing his relaxed demeanor.

He smiled. Although you were angry and the sun was too bright, you were glad to finally be able to see something again.

“Not necessary,” he nodded at the rolling hills around them. “Where would you run?”

You glared at him, letting him know that this was still against your will and that any familiarity you’d had, was gone.

“You’re very confident that I prefer your company over death,” you hissed, eyeing the wilderness.

“You’ve come with me this far.”

Your eyes met his. It was impossible to know what he was thinking beneath the stern exterior.

“You could’ve screamed for your comrades,” he shrugged.

“There was a gun aimed at my temple.”

“Or jumped out of the plane.”

Again, you glared at him. If looks could kill.

“This way,” he said, clearing his throat. “Please.”

You followed him, debating if you could make it to the car or even out of the compound before Zemo shot you or caught up.

The terrain was unfamiliar, and now you were in a foreign country, alone and uncounted for.

Zemo slowed and matched your snail’s pace, signaling that it was time to hurry up. You moved slower despite his hand on your back and he clicked his tongue. You made the journey last as long as possible until there was no choice but to cross the threshold.

“Your room is up the stairs and to the right,” he said, eyes on your face.

You stormed up the wooden stairs, making each groan with your anger.

“Dinner will be ready soon,” he called after you.

You slammed your door in response. The wall shook and you half hoped it’d bring the whole house down, taking you and Zemo with it.

An hour later, you entered the small and intimate dining room. A round table sat in a nook surrounded by windows, looking out onto the cliff-like drop below. You didn’t even glance at the food before you. There was only Zemo, and convincing him to let you go.

“Is your room to your liking?”

You scoffed. “My cell is fine, thank you.”

Unfortunately, your warden was fond of conflict, and difficult people. The words only seemed to intrigue him further. His eyes danced over your face, glancing down towards the exposed skin on your chest and then up to your lips.

“They say a pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity,” he mused.

“I’m a pessimist because of intelligence,” you quoted.

His eyes twinkled again, he knew, as you did, that it came from an Italian philosopher. It was applicable but also, a guess.

He raised his glass towards you before finishing the quote. “But an optimist because of will.”

In true Zemo fashion, he neither confirmed nor denied your suspicion. You lifted your glass of red wine towards him with a scowl.

You ate in silence for a while, you, staring out the window, Zemo, eyeing you. You made it half an hour before the weight of his stare became unbearable.

“So what’s your game plan, with all this,” you asked, waving your fork to yourself and then to him and the house.

“Do not ask questions you already know the answer to,” he chided. “It is beneath you.”

“My life for your freedom.”

He sighed then, almost like he didn’t like that answer either. It was the right one, you both knew that but it looked like it pained him. Seeing that flicker of humanity hurt more than you wanted to admit. It'd be easier if the man beneath the mask wasn't real. It'd be easier if he'd been lying and there weren’t two versions of him. You wished that there wasn’t a charming and passionate man beneath the evil Baron facade, but there he was again.

“Prison is not an option for me,” he admitted, laying down his fork. “But I am sorry that it had to be you.”

You nodded and scoffed, rolling your eyes for good measure.

“I do hope to make you comfortable, in the meantime — ”

“Before you kill me,” you interrupted.

He clicked his tongue again and glared. It was the plan he orchestrated and yet, he didn’t seem to like it.

“I may not have to,” he corrected.

You laughed then, with little care for his strained expression. “Have you met the Dora Milage? They’ll go through whoever they need to, to avenge their king. They don’t know me nor do they care about me. You don’t have the winning hand that you think you do.”

“You are forgetting about your colleagues. They've lost one of their own. If not loyalty, then pride will make them come for you,” he corrected.

Again, you smiled at his miscalculation. “I’m a foot soldier, not an avenger; not a super soldier; not one of them.”

"There is no such thing as small people, only small — ”

“Great,” you bellowed. “More wisdom! Your riddles and literature are useless now. You should’ve spent more time studying negotiations while you were incarcerated. Why didn’t you take Bucky? Or Caps little assistant? The US would’ve been at your feet for them back. You could’ve gotten a pardon and a reward!”

“I have no need for a reward,” he spat.

Your chest was heaving, out of anger, out of nerves, but most of all because the man in front of you was once again, impenetrable.

“Or a pardon from the great United States,” he continued, almost in a whisper.

Your eyes snapped to his but he avoided your gaze. He swirled his wine and stared off into space before inspecting you again. Something was missing, something that didn’t make sense.

The glimmer of humanity returned, despite his best efforts to hide it.

He’d been the main orchestrator of his outbreak from jail. He had private homes, apartments, transportation, weapons, cars, everything. He could run forever but he didn’t need you to do it. How was this life any different than what it would be if he was free? He watched you come to the realization and winced as it clicked into place.

“Why am I here,” you whispered, squinting.

He was silent and looked back to the window.

“Zemo,” you whispered. “Look at me.”

Funny enough, he followed the order.

His lips moved in silence but words didn’t escape.

“Why did you choose me?”

He pursed his lips in exasperation. It was no secret that he liked having the upper hand but he’d shown you all his cards a moment ago. You wondered why he hadn’t bothered to lie.

“I chose you because they wouldn’t — they won’t.”

He stood up and leaned against the sill, sipping wine in small swigs and staring out at the greenery.

“You would die for your country, Y/N,” he explained. “I find that admirable — heroic even but the problem, for me, is that they would let you.”

“Let me?” You repeated the phrase slowly, trying to understand the point.

He let out a huff. “If you caught a grenade in the name of bettering America, what would happen?”

You cocked your head in question. “I die? Maybe get a Purple Heart?”

“And then what? Would they bat an eye before rejoicing you — celebrating you and your sacrifice? Encouraging others to do the same in your name?” He paused and stared at you.

“No….no they wouldn’t because your death would mean that their wars are working. Another name in the long list of people that they were willing to gift to the god of war.”

“That sacrifice is what I signed up for — it’s my choice,” you explained, confused about where he was taking this.

He nodded and yet made no amends or clarification. The angry veins in his forehead receded and his gaze flitted away like he couldn’t bear to continue. You suddenly wondered if he'd even sent a ransom note, or whatever kidnappers do. The look in his eyes, told you no. The tone of his voice told you that he might not ever.

“Then you are doing your duty as a prisoner of war here, with me.”

He smiled and your anger dissipated. You lunged to grab onto any remaining frayed piece of it but there was nothing left. All those years of training and fighting, all to succumb to an evil man in a fitted turtleneck. You hardened your expression in an attempt to remain vexed.

“Your circumstance could be worse,” he concluded.

“And what of your circumstance?”

Silence ate up space between you. His gaze was set on you once again and then it seemed like you were the only two in this room, this home…the world.

“Better than it has been in a long time, schatzi,” he sighed.

“How so,” you asked, pushing for information.

He shrugged. “I am free and I am alone….with you.”

You winced and shook your head. “Don’t,” you whispered.

His brows furrowed. “In previous interactions, you did not seem to resent my…affections, Y/N.”

Butterflies ravaged your sternum, bringing memories of the night at Sharon’s with it. If it was different, if he had turned over a new leaf, then it would be easier to admit your feelings.

“Is this your version of affection? Holding me hostage?”

“Yes,” he breathed, coming to sit next to you, so close you thought he might touch you.

“Let’s not…talk about it,” you whispered, trying to push away the longing in your chest.

“I would like to,” he pushed.

All you could do was stare. The memories should've stayed in Madripoor. It should live in your brief collective drunk past. But you could see that it weighed on him as heavy as it did on you.

“That is fine,” he sighed. “I can talk if you will listen.”

You nodded once. The residual affections plagued you and it was impossible to keep your heartbeat at bay. The thought that he might feel the same was exhilarating and terrifying.

“It was you who assisted me with my escape plan. You who tracked Karli. You who guessed that I’d betray you on countless occasions. You who ensured that we evaded Captain America as long as we did. You who played your part so well that everyone in Madripoor thinks I have taken a wife.”

“Your point,” you hissed, deadpan.

“The super soldier solution does not increase intelligence, as you know. Nothing does. Even all the books in the world cannot alter what is already there. Either you are born with the glorious burden, or you live in ignorant bliss,” he explained.

He reached up and brushed his thumb along your forehead. “I know your burden, Y/N, because I share it.”

A stuttering breath left your chest. Compliments were the easiest forms of manipulation. You’d studied it, known it, resisted it in many years of training but this felt different. Everything he did and said, felt different.

“I do my job Zemo, that’s it.”

“You excel,” he corrected. “You make the rest of your colleagues look like newborns and yet they don’t...value you. Not like I do, Liebling.”

“If this is about the incident at Sharon’s,” you said, recognizing the nickname. “It was a mistake.”

He chuckled. “An optimist would call it a happy accident.”

“I’d call it life-ruining,” you said, trying to decipher the feelings of anger and something warm inside your chest. “If it led you to this.”

“I understand if you hate me,” he explained. “But you should know that living here with your hatred will be akin to breathing, for me, if it means you are safe. Natural and life-bringing.”

Your face gave nothing away but he’d stunned you.

“The evil baron is becoming less and less of a character.”

“They say hate itself is a version of love,” he mused, ignoring your words and staring at your lips.

The word knocked thought and common sense back into your head. This wasn’t love. This was ownership and selfishness. A myriad of terrible things that had tangled you both in this mess. It’d spurred from fascination and proximity but for love to grow, there has to be more. There has to be more good than bad. You looked around the home, owned by the man in front of you. Both beautiful, breathtaking even. But not enough to trade your freedom for.

“How convenient for someone with so many enemies,” you hissed.

His eyes squinted then and the Baron who commanded respect in Madripoor returned. There was this side of him too, you reminded yourself. And it seemed to be winning over the side who loved books and witty conversation.

“Are you my enemy, Y/N?”

For the first time, you didn’t know what to say. Before this, it wasn’t safe to call him anything other than an enemy but now? He ruined any chance of normalcy or redemption. The question lingered between you and it struck you how close he’d gotten. It would take almost nothing to start a repeat of the night at Sharon’s. But this was a different man.

“I didn’t have to be,” you breathed before breaking eye contact. You gave him no time to answer before fleeing back to your room.

#zemo smut #zemo fic #baron zemo fic #baron zemo x you #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo smut #zemo x you

[thebountyfucker]

The Royal Affair - A Choose Your Own Prince Fic

18+ ONLY - NSFW

I wanted to try an experiment where I wrote a story with two parallel branches so readers could choose which character they wanted to read without me writing two separate fics! Let me know what you think! (Subject to more parts!)

Embo x AFAB!Reader or Cad Bane x AFAB!Reader

Tags/CW: Threats of violence/assault, embarrassment

Here's the link to my masterpost!

Want to be tagged in upcoming fics like this? Here's my taglist application!!

You eased up to the table, smiling despite yourself, and bowed your head. You didn’t say anything to them, as per the instructions from your boss, and carefully handed out the flutes of champagne. The royals prattled on in Durese, hardly paying you any mind, though the Prince did cast a glance up at you from the periphery of his vision. You bowed your head once more, and turned to leave.

-

You had never been more nervous in your life than you were now; with a tray of champagne flutes balanced in your hand, and the heel on your left shoe coming loose, you had to put the entirety of your focus onto your task at hand. It was a simple one, really - deliver the drinks to the Duros royal family, bow, and return back to the kitchen to fetch hors d'oeuvres. Simple. Easy. Yet the wobbling in your ankle frightened you. The last thing you needed was to drop the crystal flutes in front of everyone - or worse, on someone.

As you turned, you heard a loud snap, and your ankle buckled and rolled; you went down, your tray clattering to the floor. Conversations around you stopped, and the gazes of three royal families found you collapsed on the floor. A horrified blush crept up on your cheeks as you crawled toward your tray and gathered it up in your arms; you pulled off your shoes and slowly stood, pain blossoming from your ankle. You limped to the back room, and tossed your shoes straight into the garbage.

“What happened to you?” One of your coworkers, a pretty Rutian Twi’lek, asked, glancing down at your now bare feet and rapidly-swelling ankle.

“My fucking heel broke!”

“Oof, tough luck.” She shook her head as she kneeled down and prodded at your ankle. The pain was horrendous, but she didn’t look concerned. “It ain’t broken… I’ll see if I can get a wrap and some new shoes for you.”

“Thank you, Salicia.” You muttered as you sat down, propping your leg up on the seat beside you. Your other coworkers came and went, taking out drinks and snacks, and coming back with dishes and trash. They hardly spared you a glance. There was work to be done and attending to the weak link would only slow it down. You sighed softly as Salicia returned with a bandage and a pair of silken flats.

She sat beside you, gingerly lifting your leg to wrap your ankle. She was gentle, and the pressure of the bandage made it feel instantaneously better. When she had secured it in place, she handed you the pair of flats; colored a vibrant blue, the flats sported a winged lizard embroidered on each of the sides. The slippers clashed with your uniform, but it was better than nothing; you eased them on, and cast Salicia a glance.

“Queen Esmera gave these to me when she saw me asking the other girls. She saw you fall, said these would probably be more comfortable than anything we could offer.” She explained, her lekku tips curling up as she shrugged. “I think she may be fishing for a thank you… so… you might want to go out and tell her.”

“Alright.” You sighed as you stood and brought your tray back to the bar; the bartender noted you with a frown, but knew better than to say anything. “Can you get me seven glasses of your most expensive Phatrongi red? You can… add it to the party’s tab.”

“Did Queen Esmera give you those?” He asked, suspicion heavy in his voice. You glanced down at your shoes and nodded.

“Yep.”

“I suppose the wine is a ‘thank you’ to her.” He muttered, waiting for your nod, before continuing. “And you’re stroking her ego because…?”

“Because it’s the polite thing to do, I guess.” You shrugged, and he shook his head as he poured the thick, purple wine into the glasses.

“Yeah. Polite. And then they turn around and treat you like trash.”

“They’ve been nice to me so far.” You muttered as he helped stack the seven glasses of red wine onto your tray. Your departure toward Queen Esmera’s table was slow-going, as you didn’t want to risk tripping or putting undue stress on your ankle. Your coworkers were careful about not bumping into you, but there were a few close calls.

You made your way toward the Kyuzan Queen, careful to stand a distance away in case she turned her head to regard you; her ostentatious crown, constructed of metals and jewels and silken cloths, was large enough that it could sweep the wine right off your tray. That was the last thing you wanted.

She did, in fact, turn when she noticed you, and you breathed a small sigh of relief as her crown cleared your tray. She offered you a kind, mask-less smile, and you bowed your head respectfully in response.

“Thank you for your kindne-.”

And then it happened. You took a few step closer and the slippers caught on something - likely the queen’s dress. You tripped, and the tray of wine went flying; the wine splashed upon the Queen’s lap and onto the table. The princes and the King jumped back from the table as the wine spread out toward them. Your heart plummeted to the bottom of your chest, and you dropped to your knees at her side.

“I am so sorry.” Tears welled in your eyes. Salicia rushed over with towels, much sooner than you expected, and thrust one at you; she mopped up the table, apologizing to the princes, while you gingerly dabbed at the Queen’s dress. The red wine marred her white and gold gown, and you knew that the stain would never come out. “Please forgive me. Please. I’ll do whatever you want to make it up to you.”

The Queen gingerly patted your head as you dabbed at her gown; the weight of her ring-covered hand was rather comforting, and it did make you feel quite a bit better.

“There, there, Little One.” Her voice was honeyed and velvet-smooth, yet there was an imposing timbre deep beneath it, as if she knew and reveled in the power she had in this situation. “It was an accident, and these things happen. It is okay.”

“It is not okay!” The King’s booming voice startled you from the calmed stupor the Queen had put you in. Your gaze focused on the Queen’s dress as the party hall went quiet. “This insolent worm ruined your dress!”

“There is no reason to be upset. What is done is done.” Queen Esmera continued to pat your head reassuringly.

“There must be recompense!”

“Enough. You are causing a scene.” Her voice was even and steely, and her husband eased back down into his chair. The waves of rage radiating off the king made your skin crawl - he was one of those kings where the rumors of his temper far outshined any good he had done. There were numerous stories about girls being used and thrown in ditches after minor misdeeds. You hoped your employer would protect you from the likes of him… but that was no certainty. “The dress is ruined. I will call for a maid to bring me another.”

“I’m so sorry.” You repeated, and she tilted your chin up.

“That is enough, Little One. Now run along, okay?” She smiled sweetly, and you got up with your metaphorical tail between your legs. You limped back to the staging room, where you found a bench and collapsed onto it. Tears threatened to spill over, but you rubbed them away with the heels of your hands. You felt so foolish, so demeaned. The worst part of this, though, was that it was all your fault. No royal had made you spill the wine. No royal purposefully tripped you, nor did they break the heel from your shoe. It was your own insolence. You buried your head in your hands, a strangled sob leaving your lips.

Someone sat down on the bench beside you. You figured it was Salicia, until you noticed their scent - it was woodsy and entirely manish. You couldn’t think of anyone you knew who smelled like that. Curious, you spread your fingers open and peeked through them; sitting beside you was one of the Kyuzan Princes - the youngest of the four, whose name, you believed, was Embo. He cast you a glance, his browridge cocked.

“Oh! Uh…” You wiped your eyes on your hands, and then wiped your hands on your skirt. “Hello there, Prince.”

“You are in trouble.” He spoke, his voice unwavering and deeply serious. Your heart skipped a beat, and your stomach dropped.

“W-what?”

“My father is like a jungle cat chasing a rat. In his eyes, you wronged him, and he will not rest until you pay the price.” He explained, his voice low and conspiratory.

“But I didn’t do anything to him!” You squeaked.

“You embarrassed him, and my mother. He believes you made fools of them both before our allies.” Embo explained, his hands laced together and resting on his lap. “I came to offer my help. The last thing I want is for someone undeserving to be left in a ditch to die.”

“But you’re his son. How can I trust you?”

“Just know that I would rather see him dead than let any harm come to you.” He replied, his gold eyes narrowed and a small growl rumbling in his chest. You blinked at him, and then looked down at your hands. “And he knows better than to touch anything I lay claim to. If I tell him you are under my protection, he will not dare bother you.”

“I… wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

“Nonsense. My family keeps a large staff already. We would hardly notice one more.”

Your gaze remained on your hands, your mind running a million miles a minute. If you didn’t take the Prince’s protection, what would happen to you? Would the king stoop to harming you? It seemed that if his own son was worried, the answer was likely yes. So it would be best to go with the prince then. What if he was lying? What if this was all some elaborate ruse to get you into bed with him, or worse?

“I’ll… need time to think.” You replied, your voice shaking.

“Of course. You have until the end of the night.” He got up, dusting off his expensive suit, and disappeared through the door which led back out to the main hall.

You sat there, still trying to process what was going on; the staff around you stared at you, either concerned or shocked that you had gotten so close to the Prince without mention of sexual activities. You glanced at them, before standing.

“I… I need to take a walk.”

No one stopped you as you slipped out the door into the main hall. The royals were all happily conversing, and you noted that Queen Esmera had, indeed, changed her dress. You ducked down the hallway to the front door, desperately needing some fresh air to help clear your head. Ugh, you had a headache.

The guards allowed you outside, and you sat down on the top step to gather your wits. The warm, humid Coruscant air caressed your bare skin, grounding you to reality. The ambience of the thousands of speeders and marching of armor-clad guards drowned out any sounds from the gala itself. You buried your head in your hands once more, just trying to think.

“You’ve got some shit luck tonight.”

You turned toward the intruder, noting that the Duros Prince was approaching; he had a lit cig between his fingers, and he took a long drag.

“First de heel, den sullying Queen Esmera’s dress…” He shook his head as he eased down onto the step beside you. He offered you the cig, but you declined. “What gods did ya anger?”

“I don’t know.” You sighed, shaking your head. Cad leaned back, perching the cig between his lips.

“I assume de big guy already warned ya?”

“About his dad? Yeah.” You answered, your worry rising again; it was one thing to hear about the danger from the King’s son… now you were hearing it from an unrelated royal? Great….

“Den ya know you’ll need t’ low ‘til he comes t’ his sense, right?”

You nodded at this. “Prince Embo offered to let me stay with him.”

“Did he now? Doesn’t seem quite safe t’ be going back to de same home as yer threat.” He mused as he took a drag of his cig. “I came t’ offer de same thing.”

“Why?” You asked, wary of Cad’s intentions.

“Well, King Triakt has no domain over me and my family. And messing wit’ us could end badly fer him.” Cad drawled as he plucked the cig from his lips and flicked the ashes off of the end.

“Seems like a lot of trouble for someone you don’t know.”

“I don’t know ya but dat doesn’t mean I can’t extend some kindness.” He took a long drag of his cig.

“What’s the price?” You asked, watching his lips twitch into a small smirk.

“I don’ know yet. We’ll figure dat out as we go.” Cad smothered the cig beneath his boot. “Whaddya say?”

“I… need to think about it.”

“Sure, sure. When you make up yer mind, come find me.” He winked at you and stood, straightening out his outfit. He sauntered back inside, leaving you alone in your thoughts. Now, you just had to decide who to go with...

-

Who do you choose? Embo or Cad Bane

Tags List: @justanotherstarwarswhore, @doctor-ren, @that-clone-wars-girl, @some-serendipity-snail

#embo #cad bane #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars smut #iri writes #my fanfiction

[hangryporo]

I don't know how, but Day 5 is here!

If you read this story, thank you for your patience! This happened so suddenly, that I rushed a lot of things in writing and drawing, so I really appreciate the time you spend reading this.

Without further ado, I hope you like this!

...

-Oh, dearest Vil, what are you going to do with Master Lilia?

The one from the Shaftlands cringed at the question. In a week, the vampire will choose his partner, and because of that, the Vanrouge and Draconia families programmed a series of meetings with him, causing different reactions. Ann and Marcus looked enthusiastic, and Thomas, despite looking serious, seemed pleased with the idea.

However, Vil was scared.

-Ann, don’t ask him those things! Can’t you see that master’s favorite will have a very hot night? – those words caused a bit of laughter from the three Guardians, and the usual frowning from Vil.

-Don’t be stupid, Marcus. We all have the same access to Lilia.

-See? “Lilia”? What a rebel!

-If you aren’t allowed to call him that way, it’s your problem. But answering to your question, oh, dearest Ann, I’ll talk to him about the possible things he’d want to do with a Chosen one.

-Booooriiiiing! -The blonde ignored their laughter and continued reading. Or tried – I, on the other hand, will ask him to have a good time with me. I hope I can kiss him… or more.

-Disgusting.

-Little Vil is jealous. Ow, poor baby!

-Stop doing that, Marcus, Ann! -intervened Thomas, upset-. Prepare yourselves to give the best image for master and stop talking nonsense!

Even though Vil agreed with the last one, he didn’t say anything. The one from Briar Valley wasn’t fond of him, and only spoke to calm his own envy of the younger.

He never thought those last weeks and days would be so torturing.

…

-Ann Tark!

At the call, the female Guardian went into the vampire’s room immediately, smiling. Vil couldn’t stop feeling something tight in the pit of his stomach.

Jealousy? No, impossible. This is not how it works.

-“I must be prepared for the result. If I am not selected, everything will be for naught”.

The meetings were supposed to last an hour with each member of the selection, but Vil felt it as it was an all-day long session. He kept a neutral expression when the young woman got out of the room, a bit disheveled, but happy with the result.

-Schoenheit, your jealousy is showing – commented Marcus, with a smile.

-Stop imagining things.

In a fit of anger, the Guardian from the Shaftlands poured a bit of whiskey in a glass. Lilia left that to the ones waiting for their turn. In the process, he didn’t realize about his thoughts going on and on in fast speed.

-“How was it possible to be kept waiting for that long?! I was supposed to be the first one to get into that room and kiss him so hard that I’d make him forget about the other applicants, and so I’d be the dammed Chosen partner of the Vanrouge one! Why did Lilia leave me as a last option?! Was I that disgusting?! How could he…?!”

The younger didn’t notice his inebriated state, nor did he notice Marcus, and then, Thomas entering to the room. He stayed in his seat, fuming and groaning.

…

-Vil Schoenheit. Last but not least.

At his name’s mention, the amethyst-eyed guard tried to get up, just to notice he was so drunk, he could barely keep himself straight. In every possible sense.

With all of his willpower, he stood up and walked towards the room. Once got in, he closed the door and looked at the smiling expression of the vampire.

-Vil. It’s a pleasure to see you in a more intimate background.

-“I feel dizzy” – thought the human, while trying to smile. Judging at the curious expression of the other, it didn’t work at all.

-Come. Sit down while I give you... wine, whiskey? Or do you prefer something else?

-Whiskey, please.

Cursing at his answer, the blonde relaxed in his position, attempting to keep himself as sober as possible. Why was he always like this?!

Lilia once found him drinking wine. His resistance to alcohol was so low that he got drunk with less than half a bottle. Vil remembered acting quite bold -and tipsy-, but far from disgusting…

The vampire found him adorable.

-What do you think about these three years? -The younger heard from Lilia- Hard? Tough? Insufferable? Unbearable?

-You’re exaggerating, Lilia – The aforementioned tried not to flinch at his slurred speech, due to the alcohol-. It was tough, but I enjoyed every test and training. I liked improving a bit every day.

-Strange. The other three told me it was a torture, to say the least.

-I am not like them.

-Are you not? And how are you, my dearest Vil?

-Stop calling me that way. Because of you, Ann and Marcus annoyed me nonstop – grunted the younger, frowning at the smiling vampire-. I suppose my opinion on myself doesn’t matter, as you can get your own idea about me.

-But I care about your…

-Stop lying! – This time, Vil couldn’t avoid it, and raised his voice, upset. If in a normal condition, he hated being patronized, this was worse in his current state- You don’t care about all this nonsense! You just care about fulfilling the Draconia matriarch’s will! You would’ve chosen the goddamn partner before if that were the case!

He noticed the vampire’s expression changing. He was… surprised?

-You’re drunk.

-Jackpot, oh dearest Lilia!

-And still, you haven’t answered my question.

-Is that all you are interested in?! – The one from the Shaftlands got up and tried to walk towards Lilia, but he stumbled and almost fell. He hold himself on the older’s neck, who was looking at him intensely.

-Do you want to know what I think? Okay, I’ll tell you what I think.

-Tell me – Since when did Lilia speak in such a low and deep voice?

-I just want to be the most beautiful person in this world! I worked and honed my skills to the max! I want to be eternally perfect, and perfectly eternal. I want people to admire me as the most powerful and complete Chosen any vampire family can have!

Gods, he hated Lilia’s smile. He couldn’t know if he was angry or pleased with what he was listening to.

-I am not like Ann, wanting fun every night and preparing surprises for you; I am not like Marcus, submissive and compliant to your orders and requests and, certainly, I am not like Thomas, who seems to know more about you than about himself! I am just a Shaftlands boy, Lilia. A Shaftlands boy who wants to prove the potential of the Vanrouge family, but without taking your last name, because my father’s name is more important than yours!

Okay, he talked more than necessary. The younger prepared himself to die for such a rebellious and disrespectful attitude. Curse that whiskey!

-… You do know that, if you say that last part in front of the others, you might be killed, right?

-Do you think I care about that?! I just… want… to…

-Shh. It’s okay. I got it. I got your plans and wishes since I met you, Vil. None of those words are a surprise for me.

-… Are you not angry? – The vampire felt relief at the expression of his, now, Chosen one. While he was ranting about himself, Vil seemed anxious and distressed. Now, he was looking at his eyes as if looking for something else.

-I am happy. I thought our meeting would be serious, cold, and full of lies. I’m glad it wasn’t.

-Lilia…

-Yes?

-I… want… to kiss you.

-Oh? Well, I can’t say no to that request – The vampire laughed and waited for his Guardian to get closer to him. He pleased Ann and Marcus with their requests about kissing and touching, but he felt nothing.

He couldn’t understand how Vil made him feel in a cloud nine. And they were just “holding each other”.

If that was the name of their current position.

He was prepared. He was waiting for that touch from the other. He waited for that feeling for years…

Just to feel Vil’s whole weight over his shoulders and his soft snoring. He fell asleep because of the whiskey.

-… “It couldn’t be the traditional way with you, Vil. It’ll never be”. – Laughing and taking the blonde’s sleeping body in bridal style, Lilia gently left him on his bed. As soon as he covered him with his blanket, a soft tap interrupted the moment.

-Come in.

-Lilia – the vampire smiled at Malleus’ serious expression. He looked at Vil, confused.

-He got drunk with whiskey while waiting for the meeting.

-I’ve never expected him to do so. He’s always strict with any type of etiquette.

-He was scared. But anyway, could you confirm the information?

-Yes, I did. Ann and Marcus were waiting for Schoenheit tonight, in his room. They were holding a bottle with poison, and a knife.

-What about Thomas?

-He was preparing a fake departure from him. According to their plan, the idea was to bury him and his belongings in the forest, and then, to write a letter explaining the reasons why he “left” our family.

-Did you get rid of them?

-Yes. Now they’re food for the young vampires.

Lilia hoped Vil never saw him smile in his sadistic way. He could bear anything, but betrayal.

-Good. Thank you for persuading your grandmother.

-She’s still angry, but when I told her you were happy with Schoenheit, and your plans with him, she complied. So, according to the tradition, he should be a vampire tonight, but…

-He thinks I’ll choose the one next week. I think I’ll tell him tomorrow about the situation.

-And?

-“And” what, Malleus?

-What will happen after that?

The fae dragon wished to see his fatherly figure smile the way he did now more often. He seemed as if he found something lost a long time ago.

-That’ll depend on him. And I’m fine with that.

#vil schoenheit #lilia vanrouge #twstrarepair #twst rarepair #twisted wonderland

[johaerys-writes]

Dorian Pavus/Trevelyan

A World With You, Chapter 40: Some Rest For The Wicked

Everyone needs some rest from time to time, and these two most of all. Smut, fluff, banter galore, and just a little bit of plot :)

Read on AO3! Or read from the beginning

Tristan flopped on the bed with a sigh, kicking off his boots. The mattress was hard and lumpy, and there were hardly any feathers left in the pillows, but at least the sheets were clean, with only a faint smell of must. He stretched his arms and yawned, arching his back.

“Maker, I could sleep like a log.” He cracked one eye open to glance at Dorian, who was sitting on the armchair close to the hearth. “What are you reading there?”

Dorian looked up from his book, the firelight dancing in his eyes. His hair, still damp from his bath, was combed neatly back in glossy black waves, and his shirt looked freshly pressed, despite having been in his travelling bag for days. In the short time Tristan had taken to wash in the small and drafty room that served as the bathhouse of the inn, Dorian had lit up the fire in the hearth, brushed down his cloak and his leather overcoat, rearranged his clothes and his various tins and vials, poured himself a glass of wine, and was now reading one of the many books he had brought with him.

“Treatises on Time Magic, by Agrippina Evander. Excellent theories, very insightful, not very practical when it comes to the application.” He let the book fall closed, taking a sip of his wine. “How was your bath?”

“If you can call an old wine barrel a tub, and forget that bathwater is supposed to be warm instead of uncomfortably lukewarm, then it was fine, I suppose,” Tristan huffed, rolling his eyes. “At least you can heat up the water you’re in; I have to endure the tepidity.”

“Maker, what a terrible tragedy,” Dorian drawled, swirling the wine in his cup. “It really is ghastly. I don’t know how you put up with it. A martyr, I say.” He grinned behind the rim of his goblet when Tristan shot him a rueful glance. “I do hope you didn’t encounter any more unsavoury rebel types along the way.”

“No,” Tristan hummed as he arched in another deep, satisfying stretch. “Most of them have gone to sleep already, I believe. Those that haven’t are probably in Bull’s room as we speak. Apparently, two of them had some very specific questions about his horns.”

“Ugh. Someone will be bragging about this tomorrow, I wager,” Dorian scoffed.

Tristan laughed. “He never misses an opportunity, does he?” He rolled to his side, propping himself up on his elbow. “What about you? Got any questions for me?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Dorian gave him an amused, if mildly bored look. “About your horns?”

“No, not my— wait. Is ‘horns’ another word for…” He lifted his brows again, even more suggestively, his lips curling in a smirk. “Because if it is: yes, please.”

Dorian let out a sound that was between a laugh and a groan as he sipped on his wine. “When you put it so eloquently, how could I ever refuse?”

Tristan grinned. “Why don’t you come over here, then?” He patted the mattress beside him.

“Soon. But first: this.” Dorian rolled out a matte leather sheet he had taken to carrying everywhere with him on the table, the black squares on it stark against the natural taupe colour of the leather. Then, he fished out a pouch filled with the smooth, black and red stones that served as pawns and set it next to the makeshift board.

“I’m in no mood for games,” Tristan murmured as he sank deeper into his pillow. He held out his hand, smiling invitingly. “Come to bed.”

“And so I will. After we play at least a few rounds of Calculi.”

Tristan sighed. He didn’t like that game; apparently it had been played in Tevinter for more than a thousand years, and was supposed to be even more challenging than chess. The rules had been relatively easy to understand, but the execution had left him befuddled on more than one occasion. Playing it late at night gave him headaches that had nothing to do with the Anchor, and made him grumpy and irritable, but Dorian insisted they play every night before he went to sleep.

Alongside the Fade-place of dreams that Solas had created, and the draught he was giving him to drink every day, the elf had suggested Tristan try to focus his mind and control his emotions, and through that he would be able to control the Anchor as well. Solas had tried to teach him how to meditate during the first couple days of their trip, but a few sessions was all it had taken for them both to abandon the notion. Tristan had never been able to sit still for more than a few minutes; staying silent and immovable for even an hour seemed to be a physical impossibility.

That was where Dorian had come in, saying he had a method that was even better than meditation, and had been taught in Circles in Tevinter for generations. And that was how Tristan had come to learn how to play Calculi.

“But I’m tired,” Tristan protested. “This game is boring.”

“Because you’re always losing?” Dorian asked sweetly, his smile widening when Tristan frowned at him. “Whether you like it or not is entirely irrelevant. I told you, you simply have to practice.”

He huffed as he got on his feet and dragged himself to the armchair opposite Dorian’s. He plopped down on it, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Which are mine, the red or the black?”

“The black.”

“You always take the red, and you always go first. That is why I always lose.”

“No,” Dorian countered, “you lose because you don’t concentrate, amatus. If you want to win, you need to take this seriously. The mysteries of the game will unfold themselves to you in due course.”

“I am taking it seriously. I always give everything I do my full attention. Speaking of…” He leaned forward still with a sly smirk, his fingers trailing up Dorian’s knee under the table. “There’s something else that demands my attention right now.”

A light slap on the back of his hand stayed its course. “Is there? I’m sure I’d love to hear all about it. After we play a few rounds.” His eyes twinkled with amusement when Tristan sat back in his chair with a pout, then he started setting the pawns on the board. “There. All set. I do expect you to win at least once tonight.”

With a huff, Tristan stretched his arms over his head and cracked his neck. “I expect to win more than once, if you must know.”

He waited for Dorian to make his move, then made his own. His black pawns were surely, but steadily, getting devoured by Dorian’s as time passed, so much so that it seemed to Tristan that his own pawns were just flecks of black in a sea of red.

Soon, they were caught in a stalemate. Tristan was cornered and surrounded, clinging to his territory by the skin of his teeth- still, he held on. That, at least, he could say for himself. He took in a deep breath as he straightened, concentrating as hard as he could. A black pawn was lying just at the edge of the circle that Dorian’s red pawns had made around him. That was when an idea finally sprung in his mind.

“What happens if I move it here?” he asked, pointing at the squares behind Dorian’s pawns. It was a risky move, and if that pawn was taken, he would instantly lose. “Will it work?”

Dorian glanced up at him through his thick eyelashes, interest flashing in their silver-gold depths. He idly swirled the wine in his goblet before he took a sip. “You can certainly try.”

Tristan gingerly picked up the black, polished stone and placed it in Dorian’s territory. In one fell swoop, Dorian snatched it away with one of his own, declaring himself the victor.

“Hey! You said I could try it!”

“I did. And you lost.” He chuckled contentedly as he collected the pawns and set them aside, gathering them in neat stacks. “It was a bold move. I’ll give you that.”

Tristan clicked his tongue and sat back in his chair, resting his cheek upon his fist. Dorian flashed him an amused grin.

“Oh, come now, don’t pout. Let’s play another one. I might let you win this time.”

Tristan frowned, staring into the fire. “I’m not playing. I told you, I don’t like this game.”

“My, such a sore loser,” Dorian sighed as he set the pawns on the board regardless. He topped up his glass with some more wine, then crossed one leg over the other as he settled back on his armchair. “You can have the red ones this time, if you’d like.”

Tristan’s only response was a quiet harrumph. He leaned across the table and picked up Dorian’s glass, bringing it up to his lips. “I don’t want you doing me any favours.”

“No? Alright then, the black ones are yours.” The narrowed-eyed glare that Tristan shot him made Dorian laugh even more. When Tristan returned his glass back to its place, Dorian caught his hand. He brushed his thumb over his knuckles, his smile growing soft and tender. “My dear, I tease you too much, I know.”

“You do,” Tristan said, still pouting, but his annoyance promptly eased away by the warmth of Dorian’s touch. Before he knew it, his fingers had threaded through Dorian’s, his fingertips brushing over his many golden rings. “You like it when I lose.”

“I like it when I win.” Dorian brought Tristan’s hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss to his knuckles, his gaze never leaving his. “How about… we make the next game a little more interesting?”

There was a gleam in Dorian’s eyes now, that stirred Tristan’s interest. “In what way?”

“Let’s see…” Dorian tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowed in thought. The light of the fire painted the side of his face amber, bronzing his honey-gold skin. “Every time one of us loses, he has to take off one item of clothing.”

“Strip- Calculi?” Tristan said, an amused smile curling the edges of his lips. He had once been unbeatable at strip-Wicked Grace, and he was sure he would be able to win the next round once he’d set his mind to it. He had been this close the previous time…

He took another sip of wine from Dorian’s glass, then set it carefully on the table with a smug grin. “The game is on, my friend.” ~

Approximately one hour and seven games of Calculi later, Tristan was wearing nothing but his smallclothes, while Dorian had only lost his boots and his brightly coloured silk scarf. A swath of golden brown skin peeked through the opening of his shirt, glistening in the firelight.

“You said something about winning me out of my clothes, amatus?” Dorian hummed, his amusement only growing when Tristan rolled his eyes. “Never challenge a Tevinter, isn’t that how the saying goes?”

“No. You just made that up.” Tristan crossed his arms before his chest and shot him a disgruntled look. Really, if anyone was even more stubborn and competitive than himself, then that was Dorian. “I’ve changed my mind. I don't just dislike this game- I hate it.”

Dorian laughed under his breath. His silver gaze glided from Tristan's chest down to his neck, swept along his arms. There was already a dark look in his eyes when they moved further down, past his stomach, then rested at his navel. And there, they stayed. And stayed.

Just when Tristan’s cheeks were starting to feel warm, Dorian’s eyes snapped up to his own. “How about one more round?” he purred, voice smooth like silk, soft like fur. “There’s still one last article of clothing for me to win off you.”

Read the rest on AO3!

#dorian pavus #dorian pavus x trevelyan #dorian pavus x inquisitor #pavelyan #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfiction #dorian pavus/trevelyan #dorian pavus/inquisitor #dorian x tristan trevelyan #tristan trevelyan #a world with you #johaerys writes

[reality-exodus]

Episode 7 1/2 pt.2

"For Duskwood?" The driver asked through the speakers and I shot up looking around "Yes... wait a moment please." I spoke up as the loud sound of the speaker woke me up from the abstracted oblivion I had sank into during the route of the bus. The bus stopped, it didn't go to Duskwood it left me in the outskirts. I took a deep breath and disembarked the vehicle. It was high time I met my, for so long, pen friends. It had been a week since Richy's early passing, I haven't been able to talk to anyone but Jake, who was filling in the group for my progress via Lilly. I didn't talk again about this subject to anyone.

I got out of the bus and my gaze fell on the magnificent forest of Duskwood. It indeed looked scary... and dark. I hadn't realized that I was staring at it insistingly until I heard a horn and shot my head to that direction to notice two familiar faces with beard. I smiled at the vision of them expecting me on the road and started walking towards where the car was. Dan got out of the car and he raised his arms up as I was approaching with my suitcase.

"M/C" He sighed and pulled me in a hug, I let out a soft chuckle and hugged him back rubbing his back. He was taller than me, nothing compared to how he was as when we first talked to each other.

"Hello Dan" I let out a sigh of relief as we both tightened the hug for some moments. "How are you?" I asked him as we broke the hug and looked at each other. Things were sort of awkward, it was normal and it didn't bother me.

"We are doing the best we can... Hopefully you will upbeat Jessy a bit. But we will have time for that" Dan sighed and picked up my suitcase and I got in the backseat.

"Hello" I greeted Thomas as he turned and looked at me from the rearview mirror.

"Hey there..." I sighed and smiled awkwardly as Dan shut the door of the car, getting in.

"So how was your trip?" Dan asked me as I put on the utility belt. You never know what happens.

"Tiring... dull." I exhaled once again taking out my phone as I felt it vibrate and blushed a bit as I saw Jake's contact popping up on my screen. "It's Jake ..." I sighed and looked at them.

The boys looked at each other and sighed. "I really do want to talk to him..." Dan huffed looking at me with the corner of his eye. In the past he told me times galore to not trust the hacker... But well who knew I fell in love with him.

I took a deep breath and slid my finger upon the screen. "Hey..." I smiled blushed looking at the camera. "Hello M/C. Are you alright?" Jake was heard, he still had the voice altering application.

"Yeah... I am with Dan and Thomas actually. They just picked me up from the bus... They are here actually." I spoke to him and there was some silence.

"Hey Hacker!" Dan exclaimed loudly to be heard.

"Daniel, Thomas" Jake was heard.

"How are you doin?" Dan asked at the same tone.

"I am good. Still working on Hannah with M/C..." Jake spoke up.

"Good... Now if you'll excuse us we are busy." Dan said rudely.

"Dan!" I exclaimed annoyed frowning at him.

"Do not worry M/C. Text me when you are available..." Jake said and finished the call before I could even say goodbye.

"Good one Dan" Thomas huffed as his expressionless face was fixed on the road.

"Yea Dan, way to go" I deadpanned as I took out my headphones in order to listen to some music.

"Don't let his ass drag you down. Here connect your phone to the car." Thomas offered trying to repair the atmosphere Dan ruined.

"Oh Thanks... I appreciate" I smiled a bit to Thomas' intention and connected my phone to his car radio and put on my music. "You are probably the rap sort of guys or Metal or Rock. Billie Eillish and Bishop Briggs won't be your type of music..." I commented.

"Well You are not worse than Jessy... she listens to Justin Bieber." Dan laughed as 'Good girls go to hell' started being heard.

The way was long and Thomas said we were going on Phil's place where both me and Jessy would stay. I had fallen asleep on the backseat. I was extremely tired from my trip and the boys closed the music to keep me sleeping as Dan said I was even snoring.

"M/C" Thomas extended his hand and shook me as I ended up laying across the seat. "Wake up, we are here." He said smoothly and I blinked my eyes open sitting up. I fixed my dress and got out of the car as we moved in the block of flats with Thomas who was helping me with my bags. Dan did not do well with Phil so Thomas would show and help me upstairs.

I knocked the door as Thomas was leaving, he waved at me as Jessy opened the door. I took a deep breath at the footsteps I heard and the door opened soon and I faced a redhead girl, she was pale, and her hazel eyes were red and swollen from the grieve and the tears. I knew it was Jessy, I could recognize her despite the blues that worn upon her petite figure. She was shorter than me but with elegant curves. She was more beautiful in real.

"Excuse you my brother is not here." Jessy spoke with a huff, her shaking voice sounded angry.

"Thank god then..."I replied "I wouldn't be that fond of his arrogance right now." I added with a sigh.

"Oh my gosh M/C" she exclaimed and hugged and I responded rubbing her back. I expected the hug and I really liked it too."Its so good to finally meet you Jess" I sighed as I placed my chin on her shoulder as she is shorter than me.

"Me too." She sniffed. "You must be tired come on in" Jessy dragged in my suitcase and closed the door behind us.

"Indeed I am, I even fell asleep at the car on our way here..." I sighed. "I am going to make something for you to eat, you change and pick a movie and I'll get the pizza, no mushrooms extra tomato sauce." Jessy said and I smiled brightly at her as I moved to the bathroom and put on my pajamas and crushed back at the couch we were sitting before. "I am ready with a film." I spoke as I set up the TV with my laptop. "What movie?" Jess was heard. "V for Vendetta" I said with a smile as I texted good night to Jake. "You can't be serious?" Jessy let out a small laugh as she poked her head to look at me. "No really that's the movie we are watching." I nodded gazing at her innocently. "Is this some sort of type you have?" she asked as she sat next to me placing the pizza and the wine on the coffee table and covered both of us with the blanket. "Is this a Jake reference?" I asked and blushed as I took the glass of red wine. "You are really smart aren't you?" she giggled and I sighed in relief as she seemed to be forgetting reality, with Richy.

I've been thinking about all day long. What he said, he heard a scream calling his name specifically, and then he recognized Hannah's voice. And then the his wide eyes staring right at me as his last breath was abandoning him. I haven't told anyone, not even Jake. The only thing I want is to find Hannah in one piece. I don't have anyone to worry or miss me... Atleast not someone who knows me. And things with Jake are really blurry but he simply denies to say anything or give me a hope...

I fell asleep on Jessy's lap during the film and I felt her stroking my hair, cover me better with the blanket and then leaving. I didn't pay much attention I was too tired for it so I let sleep take the best of me.

-

I shot my eyes open at the sound of cricking that came from the main entrance. I didn't move an inch from my position in fear... The man without a face? The governmental pursuers of Jake? I sincerely do not know which is worse. I surveyed the dark living room at Phil's place, seeking for something, an object, that I could defend myself with. I caught a glimpse of the wine bottle me and Jessy drank earlier. I extended my hand and grasped it as I fell off the couch and crawled to the hall standing by as a figure with a long coat stepped in and looked around.

I lost no time and brought with force the bottle to his head as he let out a gasp and turned around. It was too dark for me to see any features upon his face I made a move to punch him in my effort to prevent him from doing what ever he was to do to me and Jess. He grabbed my wrist and turn me around stretching my hand to my back and pinning me to the wall as he leaned his face to my face and

"My sister usually has less violent friends M/C" I heard him whisper as he breathed down my neck and stroked my waist.

"Phil Hawkins" I breath out in relief and let loose.

"In flesh" He chuckled and let go of me still holding my hand. "And you are M/C..." He spoke in realization and switched the light on and looked at me.

"Are you alright?" I asked feeling embarrassed as I was trying to calm down.

"I am but you will have to pay me back for the hospitality and my destroyed hair." Phil had a smirk upon his lips as his eyes were upon me.

"Oh of course" I nodded recovering from the embarrassment from before. "What can I do for you?" I asked politely.

"Oh many things. But how about I take you out for a drink. You can see me on duty too." Phil smiled softly.

"Sure I could ask the rest to come too." I smiled politely making an effort to avoid him.

"I was hoping for something more private but whatever makes you feel better." Phil spoke and stroked my waist discreetly and I pulled myself to drink some water.

"Um I should go and sleep, Jessy will wake me up in a few hours for... for the funeral." I stuttered and sat down "Good night Phil." I spoke and covered myself with Jessy's pink blanket.

"I would be better with you cutie but Good night" Phil waved and winked at me vanishing in the corridor.

I laid back down and closing my eyes praying that sleep will come after this scare. But it didn't so I reach for my phone

'Jake? Are you awake?'

'M/C everything alright?'

'Yes, I mean, I was sleeping Phil walked in his house and I got scared and attacked him... I am still edgy'

'I assure you are safe. Are you alright now?'

'Yea I shooed Phil to sleep and laid back down. Can you imagine I slipped away only with a cocktail date at aurora's with everyone 😊'

'Well I knew you were smart. Did he tried anything cute?'

I choked on my water as I saw the screen, I liked that he didn't bother being elegant and discreet with the question 'No I put him back in his place.' I said as the smile wouldn't leave my lips any time soon.

'You should sleep, the funeral is in three hours' He texted

'You are right, Sweet dreams Jake' I texted and placed my phone to the coffee table and heard it buzz with his reply, I didn't see it now. I wanted to see it in the morning.

#duskwood #duskwood thomas #duskwood hannah #duskwood jessy #duskwood richy #duskwood dan #duskwood lilly #duskwood phil #duskwood jake #duskwood cleo #duskwood everbyte #everbyte studios #duskwood mc #duskwood mc x jake #jake x mc #jessy x mc #phil x mc

[themetaphorgirl]

What do you think drunk reid would be like lol

this was inspired by my own experiences as a sheltered little church girl trying alcohol for the first time

bless this sweet child.

----------

“I’m so glad you finally came out with us, Reid,” Garcia said. “We’ve been asking you for ages.”

“Yeah, it’s about time you joined us,” Morgan added.

He sat very stiffly on the cracked vinyl seat, his arms at his sides like he was afraid to put his hands down. “You’ve asked me thirty-two times,” he said. “I thought I should give up at some point.”

Garcia laughed. “You’re stubborn and I love it,” she said. “But I’m glad you gave in.”

Nights out had been few and far between for too long, and she was thrilled to be out of her lair and with her people. The last case was resolved much sooner than they expected, and she had begged everyone to come out. Gideon wasn’t there, which wasn’t too much of a surprise, but everyone else had made it. Even Hotch, who usually begged off because of Haley and the baby, and even Reid, who had politely turned down every offer to go out.

“Spence, are you doing okay?” JJ asked. “You can put your arms down.”

“Everything is sticky,” he said, his shoulders curving. 

Morgan laughed. “You’ll be fine, Reid,” he said. “Don’t give me statistics on germs. Just enjoy yourself. Get a drink. Relax.”

“This isn’t exactly my idea of relaxing,” he said. 

“C’mon, live a little, boy wonder,” Garcia said. “What do you want? First drink is on me.”

He hunched farther in his chair. “You know, most medieval cultures drank only beer and mead instead of water because the quality-”

“Reid,” Hotch interrupted. “Just order something.”

His ears were turning red and he mumbled something under his breath.

“What was that?” Emily asked.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never tried anything.”

“You were in college for like ten years, you’ve never had alcohol?” JJ said, her eyebrows raising.

“Fifteen-year-olds don’t get invited to a lot of frat parties!” Spencer said. “And I went straight from college to the academy, and straight to the BAU from the academy.” He scrunched up his face. “And besides, I don’t think there’s anything about me that indicates I get invited to parties very often.”

Garcia squeezed his arm. “Well, you’re at a party now,” she said. “How about this, we’ll let you try a little bit of everybody’s drinks, so you can figure out what you like, and then you can order something.” He opened his mouth to argue. “And we’ll let you have the first sips so you can’t complain about germs.”

“Yes, but then if everyone’s drinking after me, everyone’s getting my germs,” Spencer objected. “What if everybody gets mono?”

“Who’re you kissing, pretty Ricky?” Morgan teased, and Spencer’s embarrassed flush spread to his cheekbones. Morgan tossed his arm around his shoulder. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Relax.”

They all placed their orders- the waitress scrutinized Spencer’s ID for quite a while, making him blush even redder- and before long everyone had drinks placed in front of them, and Spencer was visibly sweating.

“All right, who’s drink do you want to try first?” JJ asked.

Spencer looked around. “I have no idea,” he said.

Morgan slid his pint glass over to him. “Try this,” he said. “It’s just a beer. Entry level. You can’t go wrong.”

Spencer took a very small sip, averting everyone’s eyes, and quickly handed the glass back to Morgan. “That’s bread,” he said. “That is a glass of wet bread.”

“So not a beer fan?” Garcia asked. He shook his head.

“Oh, you’re going to hate what I have, then,” Hotch said, sliding his Guinness down the table.

Spencer stuck a straw in it and recoiled. “Oh, that’s worse,” he said. “Oh, that’s so much worse. How is it so much worse?”

Hotch laughed. “So we can determine that beer is a no go,” he said.

“MIne won’t be as bad,” JJ said. “It’s just a hard cider, nothing too crazy.”

He wrinkled his nose. “It tastes like apple juice was left sitting around for too long,” he complained.

JJ looked at the glass, then back at him. “That’s...that’s basically what hard cider is, Spence,” she said.

“I knew that. it’s...it’s just very different in application.”

“Ooh me, ooh me!” Emily said. “This is fun.” She leaned around JJ to hand him a wineglass. “Try it.”

Spencer took it hesitantly. “Wine isn’t that bad, is it?” he said warily.

Emily rested her chin on her hands. “I don’t know, you tell me,” she said.

He took a sip. “That’s disgusting,” he said. He screwed up his face, sticking out his tongue a little. “How is it so dry? It’s like I was walking in a desert and someone gave me an old grape instead of water!”

Emily laughed. “That’s how I like it,” she said. She got up from the table. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to get a surprise.”

“Okay, okay, try mine,” Garcia encouraged. “It’s a Moscow mule. I think you’ll like it.”

“Garcia, the odds are against me,” he said, taking the copper mug warily.

“Please please please,” she wheedled. “It’s delicious.”

He took a sip, paused, and took another one. “Oh, this isn’t terrible,” he said. “It’s very...but it has this kind of…”

“It’s a win!” Garcia said, slamming her fist on the table. “Garcia, one, everybody else, zero!”

“Okay, okay, fine, but...consider this,” Emily said. She set a shot glass down in front of Spencer. “Shots are a rite of passage for all college students, so…here you go!”

“Shots, shots, shots!” JJ chanted.

Spencer picked up the glass, looked around at them in confusion, and then took a small sip. “Reid, what the actual hell?” Emily said.

“What’re you doing, kid?” Morgan asked.

He shrugged, holding the tiny glass in his hands like a mouse holding a thimble. “I’m drinking out of this ridiculously small cup that Emily gave me,” he said.

Hotch sighed. “Reid, that’s not how shots work,” he said.

Emily took the glass from Spencer’s hand. “Hey,” he protested, but she knocked it back in an easy motion.

“Learned that in boarding school,” she said, setting the shotglass down. “Let’s try this again!”

Spencer held the new glass like a bomb when it was handed it to him. “What am I supposed to do?” he said.

“Just throw the whole drink in your mouth and swallow,” JJ said. “Don’t think about it.”

“All I do is think,” he said, but he did his best, tossing the shot in his mouth. “Oh god! What...oh god, it’s burning!”

“That’s what Fireball does,” Garcia said.  “Try it again, it gets easier.”

It did not get easier.

In the end, it took three shots, half of Garcia’s Moscow Mule, and the collective tastes of everyone’s drinks to get Dr. Spencer Reid half slumped in his chair, his long arms draped over the sticky table. “...and that’s when I dropped out of, out of medieval lit, because…because it sucked, you guys,” he slurred. “It sucked, so bad, I...I learned more when I was two than I did...in...in…” He raised his head, his long hair hanging over his eyes. “What?”

“Ooh, we forgot to factor in the newbie tolerance levels,” Emily said.

“What tolerance level?” Hotch said dryly.

Spencer rubbed his eyes. “I’m...so tired,” he said. He lurched towards Morgan. “Can I...take a nap?”

“No, pretty boy, not here,” Morgan said. “God, what a lightweight.”

“Honestly, we should have seen this coming,” Hotch said. 

Spencer half stood up. “I want another one of these,” he announced, holding the empty copper mug in his hand.

“No, no, my darling, absolutely not,” Garcia said, tugging on his arm.

He plunked down in his seat. “I feel great,” he said. He smiled, warm and dopey. “I...I love you guys. All you guys.”

“Aw, we love you too, Garcia said.

He frowned, tugging at his tie. “I’m...why this?” he said. He fumbled with the knot. “Why this? I wanna-”

“Oh, no, he’s a Penelope Garcia kind of drunk,” Emily said. 

“I don’t always take my clothes off when I’m drunk,” Garcia said. “I just...oh, no, Spencer-”

He tossed his tie at Emily. “I got it,” he said, pleased.

“Good job.”

He lurched out of his seat. “I’ll be right back,” he said. 

“Should somebody follow him?” JJ asked.

Hotch looked at his phone. “If he doesn’t come back in a few minutes, I’ll go get him,” he said. 

“Man, I didn’t know what kind of drunk Reid would be, but somehow this seems right,” Emily said, draining the last of her second glass of wine. “He has the tolerance of a wet piece of paper.”

“Maybe next time we’ll just get him something that isn’t too strong,” Garcia said. “This might have been too much for him.”

“We’ll get him a Capri Sun or something,” Morgan snickered.

Spencer stumbled towards them, his mouth tugging at the corner. “Hey, champ, how we doin’?” Emily said. 

“I threw up,” he said, confused.

“Are you okay?” JJ asked. 

He shrugged. “I threw up.”

“Okay, pretty boy, you’re going home,” Morgan said, scooting his chair back from the table. “Baby’s first drinks are turning into baby’s first hangover.”

“Get something greasy for breakfast in the morning, it’ll help,” Garcia offered. 

Spencer rubbed the side of his face. “I’m...sleep,” he mumbled

“You’re going to drink your bodyweight in water and maybe eat some saltines, and then you’re gonna go to sleep,” Morgan said. “And next time we go out for drinks...no shots for you.”

#criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #caitlin writes things #derek morgan #penelope garcia #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #Anonymous

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Domesticated

M/F Pairing: Y/N x Bang Chan (Stray Kids) 

Genre: Married Life AU

Warnings: Smut, language, some mentions of cheating (but not with the main pairing)

Word Count: 19,922 (I might break this up later on)

Summary: Marriage was something Y/N had been dreaming about since she was a little girl. But now, ten years later, she’s married to her college sweetheart, but their relationship isn’t entirely perfect. There’s the issue of her new boss, aka her ex-boyfriend Seo Changbin, and Chan’s younger brother Felix who insists on calling her Medusa. Yet, through it all, Y/N is positive she wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

Notes: Y'all are really out here sleeping on husband Bang Chan and I won’t allow it anymore. Because Chan is 100% husband goals.

“Where do you see yourself in five years?”

I slowly exhaled after disregarding my somewhat passable resume, courtesy of one of those sketchy website builders, to look at the interviewer who waited for my response, pen poised over his expensive notebook. I swallowed hard as I struggled to compose myself under pressure. Because there was a professional answer somewhere in the back of my useless brain, but a dozen other responses, far more honest than his expectations, were waiting on the tip of my tongue.

Such as: 

Waiting at home for my husband because all I do is stare at the clock, counting down the minutes until he walks through the door. I kinda miss when we were in college and could see each other sporadically between long lectures, grabbing lunch at the Wendy’s on South Campus. Now, the most exciting thing that happens is the occasional blow job before we pass out on the worn mattress in our master bedroom.

Or

Sometimes Chan will host dinner parties at the house for his expensive doctor friends. He won’t spare me a single glance while I rush to fill glasses with rich-tasting wine, keeping an eye on Han Jisung because he can’t take more than three refills before he’s trying to dismantle the house. I’ll also have to ignore the really old surgeon who Chan admires because he likes to touch my ass when I pass through the living room. Maybe I was suited to be a sugar baby in another life.

Or

On the rare occasion when Chan actually uses his cock, he’ll pant in my ear the entire time because he’s worn out from long hours at the hospital. Chan will cum before me most of the time and I’m lucky if he’s cognizant enough to eat me out so that I can finally fall asleep from my post-orgasmic haze. Heck, I’ll even take his fingers on my clit if it means an assured eight hours of sleep.

Shit, I miss being young.

I cleared my throat, deciding on the professional answer because I highly doubt Seo Enterprises wanted to hire a desperate housewife.

I was sprawled out on the couch in our living room when Chan came home that evening. I barely acknowledged his rushed greeting, watching through narrowed eyes as he ran into the kitchen. “Babe,” came his anticipated whine. “There’s no leftovers?”

“I didn’t feel like cooking,” I said, turning over to bury my face in the throw pillows decorating the cushions. It really wasn’t that comfortable since Chan insisted we get the stiff, fancy leather futon as opposed to the appealing sectional that could actually recline. 

“You didn’t cook?”

Chan’s voice was closer this time but I still ignored him, sensing an impending headache. “I had an interview.”

“That was hours ago,” Chan pouted.

I sighed loudly. “The interview went great, honey, thanks for asking.”

“I’ve been at the hospital since 5 this morning,” Chan went on, weight dipping beneath the couch at the opposite end. “I didn’t even have time for lunch because Jisung almost fucked up a patient’s IV.”

“Remind me again why he still has a job.”

“Because he somehow graduated from nursing school and has a license claiming he’s qualified,” Chan said. “Plus, he’s my friend.”

“You have shit taste in friends,” I said, protesting when his hand landed a firm smack against my ass. 

“Minho tried to wreck the Corvette when he ran out of cigarettes.”

“Minho is loyal.”

“He still wants to fuck you,” Chan grumped. “Ten years after college and he’s trailing after your ass.”

“Darling, you don’t have to be jealous when I’m wearing your ugly ring on my finger 24/7.”

“It was my mother’s!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Bang Chan,” I snapped while grabbing one of my support pillows from beneath my weight, launching it at my husband’s head. Sadly, Chan dodged at the last minute, much to my chagrin, smirking as he dug his fingers into my sides, forcing loud, high-pitched giggles as we both unceremoniously fell into the spotlessly clean floor. “Channie,” I groaned as he rolled on top of me, pinning my hands above my head before deciding to offer me a sloppy kiss with far too much tongue. “You’re fucking gross,” I said, biting at his lower lip in revenge.

“Yeah? Well, you’re fucking sexy,” Chan purred, nuzzling his head between my breasts. 

“Stop it, you oaf!” I grumbled. “My period starts tomorrow. My tits have been sore all day.”

“Maybe I should have a look,” Chan teased, a free hand working loose one of the buttons on my shirt.

“And what good will that do?”

“Well, I am a doctor.”

“You just want to see my tits so you have something to jerk off to in the shower tonight.”

“Shower with me then,” Chan suggested. “I’ll fuck you against the wall.”

“Will you have the stamina?” I questioned. “You poor thing, how can you get it up when you haven’t eaten all day?”

Chan frowned at my mocking tone. “Are you turning down my cock?”

“You’re only half-hard,” I said, lifting my thigh against the tight bulge of his scrubs.

Chan let out a sigh, but his smile was endearing. “What if I order takeout? Then we can fuck in the shower.”

“Channie,” I cooed. “You always know how to talk dirty to me.”

I stand by my belief that email was now an archaic form of communication, but the number of big businesses that forced their employees to make an account @ their company name was ridiculous. But if I wanted to find a job in this big ass city, then I needed to play by the rules. Surprisingly, my most recent application was progressing with far more success than I could have anticipated, and I had read over the new email from Seo Enterprises at least half a dozen times:

Dear Mrs. Bang,

Thank you for taking the time to interview with our staff yesterday afternoon. After carefully reviewing your file with our CEO, he has asked us to schedule one last consultation. Please let us know your earliest convenience.

“That must be a good thing,” Minho remarked, digging his spoon into my ice cream since his bowl was empty and I wasn’t in the mood to argue with him. 

“I guess,” I said, formulating a quick reply because I really wanted this fancy, high-paying Secretary job. I mean, sitting at home all day was definitely not high on my list of accomplishments.

“What’s the hurry anyway?” Minho asked as he licked his spoon clean. “Bang has enough money that you could just smooch off him for the rest of your life.”

“That’s not fair,” I said. “I want us to be equals.”

“Wasn’t that the point of marrying a doctor, Y/N?” Minho asked. “Otherwise, you could still be screwing around with me.”

“Except we aren’t 18 anymore,” I pointed out, frowning in his direction. “And says the guy who works part-time at his sister’s pet shop.”

“Hey!” Minho protested, shoving his spoon in my face. “I’m helping the strays. Population control and shit.”

“So what? You’re snipping some dog penises, good for you.”

Minho sat back with a disgruntled sigh. “What do you want to do after this?”

“I’ll bring Chan some lunch since he didn’t get a chance to eat yesterday,” I said. “Interested in accompanying an old friend?”

“Not really,” Minho said. “But I don’t have anything better to do.”

I maintained a long list of places that I truly despised and the hospital was number one. I always tried desperately not to let it show when I visited Chan because it wasn’t really his fault. I had a bad history when it came to hospitals and the memories lingered like the permanent smell of alcohol that Chan brought home with him on his scrubs.

“Did you see that guy in the waiting room?” Minho asked after I checked us in at the front desk. “He was seconds away from bleeding out on the floor.”

“Don’t talk about blood,” I shivered, hurrying to the elevator while frantically hitting the corresponding floor number.

“This reminding you of Freshman year?” Minho asked since he was a total airhead and missed out on the memo where I specifically told him to keep his mouth shut about that stupid Frat Party.

“There are five reasons why I hate hospitals,” I said, holding up my hand in front of his stupid face. “Don’t make me spell it out for you.”

“Is Freshman year one of them?”

“Shut the hell up, Minho.”

A quiet chuckle resounded through the empty elevator while I impatiently waited for our stop. “You’re feisty today,” Minho remarked once the doors reopened.

I ignored the nasty linoleum floors, heels clicking with every step I took in the direction of Chan’s office. “I’m eating with Chan and then we’re never coming here again.”

“Agreed,” Minho said, keeping pace with me while cringing at the gurneys being pushed through the hallways at an alarming rate. 

We had almost made it to the end of the floor when I heard a lazy voice call out my name from one of the surrounding rooms. I closed my eyes because I could recognize that voice anywhere since it basically haunted my worst nightmares. He might not know it yet, but Han Jisung was the last person I wanted to run into because maybe, just maybe, he was one of the five reasons why I hated this place.

“Guys!” Jisung gushed, smiling brilliantly. “I’d hug you but I just finished cleaning piss off the floor.”

“Jesus, Han,” I said, wrinkling my nose against the overpowering smell of ammonia. “Is Chan in his office?”

“He was supposed to meet with our new superintendent,” Jisung said, grinning like a complete idiot when he shoved his gloved hands towards Minho who now looked a few beats away from losing his ice cream.

“You’re really pushing your luck today,” Minho growled at him.

“The meeting room is the last room on the right,” Jisung said, finally proving to be useful for once in his life.

I grabbed Minho’s arm because he was close to decking Jisung in the face and I didn’t need the security guards to tell Chan that I let my best friend attack one of his nurses. “Come on,” I said, urging him away from the potential crime scene.

“He’s this close to finding himself with a bloody nose,” Minho complained. “You know what’s funny? I’m pretty sure Han Jisung wouldn’t even know how to help himself.”

“You’re probably right,” I agreed, straightening the collar of my blouse as I peeked in through the tight blinds obscuring the glass wall of the room Jisung had indicated. “There’s Chan...” I started, trailing off when I noticed that he was engrossed in deep conversation with an unfamiliar woman.

“Oh, she’s really hot,” Minho remarked, wincing when I shoved my elbow into his chest.

“Commentary is not necessary,” I said, folding my arms across my chest as I tapped my foot against the floor. Who the hell did this bitch think she was?

“Jealousy isn’t a good look on you,” Minho teased and I swallowed my pride, trying to ignore the way she reached out to touch Chan’s arm.

Thankfully, Chan finally noticed me outside, offering me a cheesy wave which I refused to reciprocate as he said something to the woman. I waited outside the door, attempting my best stern expression even if Chan completely ignored my efforts, encasing me in his powerful arms. “Y/N,” he cooed.

“Chan,” I choked out, struggling against his strength.

Minho snorted at the display. “I’m going to find the cafeteria. Text me when you wanna leave, Y/N.”

I waved him off once Chan eventually released me. I sucked in a few grateful breaths while holding up the takeout bag I had brought. “Is there somewhere we can go?”

Chan nodded, reaching for my hand. “Sorry I took so long, I was meeting with the new superintendent.”

I pursed my lips at that revelation. “She doesn’t look old enough to be a superintendent.”

“She’s around my age,” Chan said and I frowned because that just made everything worse.

The hospital’s staff room was small, the smell of coffee heavy in the air as Chan closed the door behind us. “Nobody should come in.”

“Good,” I said, choosing the only table that looked halfway clean before sitting down with a sigh. “I brought you lunch.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” Chan said, gratefully accepting the bag from me while he sat down on the remaining chair. I glared at him from across the table, watching as he dug into the cheap Japanese like it was his last meal on earth. “Is something wrong?” he asked over a mouthful of noodles. Something college Chan would have never done when we first started dating, but I suppose that’s what you get with marriage.

“I saw you were pretty close with your new superintendent,” I said.

“Oh yeah,” Chan replied cheerfully, stuffing even more food into his impossibly wide mouth. “She’s super smart. Like, Harvard graduate smart.”

“Of course she is,” I murmured. “Do you like her?”

“As a boss I guess,” Chan said, still horribly naive to the real problem. I cathartically drummed my fingernails against the surface of the table. 

“Are you coming home early tonight?” I asked him. “I’ll fix your favorite.”

Chan’s eyes lit up because, despite the food sitting right in front of him, he always got excited at the prospect of another meal. “Really?”

I nodded. “I’ll put the good whiskey on ice.”

Chan sat back with a dramatic groan. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack? Where is all this coming from?”

“I’m just being a good wife,” I said, taking on a dismissive tone.

Chan grinned. “Do you want something, sweetheart? You know I’ll buy you anything.”

“No reason,” I chirped. “I just want you to remember how good am I to you.”

“Of course I know that,” Chan said, reaching across the table to squeeze one of my hands. “I didn’t just marry you for your beautiful face.”

“That’s not what you said when we first met,” I reminded him cheekily, enjoying the way his ears grew red. “Should I do a reenactment?”

“That’s not necessary,” Chan said, quickly dismissing the topic. “Did you hear back from your interview?”

“Oh I did,” I said. “They want me to come in and meet the CEO.”

“What for?” Chan scoffed, returning back to his meal.

“Well, I am taking on the secretary position,” I said. “Maybe he wants to make sure I have good phone etiquette.”

“Yeah?” Chan grumbled. “Or, he wants to make sure you look pretty for him so he has something nice to look at all day.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” I asked him because I loved it when Chan got possessive.

“I don’t want some rich bastard drooling over my wife,” Chan said, chopsticks clenched tightly between his fingers.

“Yeah? Well, it works both ways, you know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh come on, Chan,” I sighed. “Your superintendent was totally flirting with you.”

Chan put down his chopsticks, eyeing me cluelessly. “No, she wasn’t.”

“Yes, she was,” I immediately countered, reaching down for my purse. “I watched her the entire time.”

“Were you spying on me?” Chan asked with a smirk.

“Minho’s probably waiting for me,” I replied instead, smoothing down my skirt as I stood up from the table.

“Don’t you think that’s too short?” Chan asked, pointing at my lower section as if personally offended.

“Work hard, honey,” I grinned, leaning over the table to peck him once on the lips, offering a cheeky wave on my way out the door.

My palms were sweaty and, despite my repeated attempts to wipe off the nasty residue on my skirt, the condition persisted. Hyperhidrosis, Chan might tell me, nerdy glasses falling down his nose. I grinned at a distant memory, one of the first dates I ever had with Chan. A younger, less confident version of my husband, frantically peeling his suit jacket from his body, complaining about the heat in the restaurant, only to cower moments later when he realized his armpits were totally drenched.

“Mrs. Bang?”

I looked up at the young man bowing in front of me. “Mr. Seo will see you now.”

I nodded, holding my tongue before I let the intern know that he sounded just like a passage from Fifty Shades of Gray. Oh, shit, what if I was about to meet Christian Gray in the flesh? Some sort of young, hot billionaire with the world at his feet, buying up other companies like they meant absolutely nothing.

It was a believable scenario, and I don’t know how I managed to get my feet to work, but I followed the intern with exaggerated steps. “The boss has been looking forward to this,” the intern told me, pausing outside the office door.

“He has?” I wondered, glancing around the grandiose lobby. Did I really make that much of an impression?

“You can go in now,” the intern smiled, politely holding the door for me as I wordlessly walked inside.

Of course, I was expecting something extravagant, considering the layout of the lobby, but I was still deeply impressed by the spacious, but oddly cozy interior. Could you really call this room an office? Considering how massive it was in size. I mean, was it really necessary to basically live in an apartment when you arrived to work every day? Complete with stylish hardwood floors that looked like something out of an edition of House and Home magazine. I’d bet my entire life’s savings that the CEO hired some kind of fancy architect to design the place because those engravings on the mahogany walls were quite difficult to achieve. “It’s nice isn’t it?” a disarmingly familiar voice asked, and I found the dark figure leaning against the desk in the center of the room, sleeves rolled up to show off his impressive arms. “I was surprised to see your application, Y/N.”

Fuck, Christian Grey would have been way better.

“Changbin?”

He met me halfway across the room, now completely visible beneath the low hanging lights, tan skin washed with a comfortable glow. “Shocked?”

“You could say that,” I said, suddenly feeling like I was 18 again in college, lusting after the object of my affections.

“Have a seat,” Changbin offered kindly, extending his arm towards the matching armchairs neatly tucked around the electric fireplace.

“Okay,” I nodded, unable to take my eyes off Seo Changbin as I stumbled over my heels like a complete lovestruck teenager meeting her musician idol for the very first time.

But, holy fuck, Changbin looked good. Why the hell did he not age or turn prematurely gray? I held back a whimper, eyes looking everywhere around the room except at Seo Changbin. How did I not put two and two together when I first got the notification for the Secretary position at Seo Enterprises? I mean, what are the chances that this Seo is my Seo...Or, at least, he used to be my Seo. 

“Y/N,” Changbin said, flipping through my file with lazy movements. Where did he get those pants from? They fit him sinfully good, hugging his thighs and if I look close enough, the outline of his...“How are you?”

I startled at the question, drawing my eyes up to meet Changbin’s familiar gaze. “Oh, I’m uh..” I trailed off anxiously, trying to put meaningful words together because he was making the English language harder than it needed to be. “I’ve been alright.”

Changbin smiled and I crossed my legs because that kind of smile could literally drench a girl if he wasn’t careful. “I was really happy to see your name on my list.”

“Were you?” I asked, fingers digging into the cushion of my chair.

“I’m always happy to see a familiar face,” Changbin said. “It’s been a while.”

“College,” I choked out, completely out of mind with anxiety, like the time Minho stole my phone and made me think someone had stolen it, even encouraging me to call the number only for him to hang up every time.

“You’re still beautiful.”

“Changbin...”

“I know,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s all in the past.”

“That’s right,” I said, wondering if now would be an appropriate time to snatch my resume out of Changbin’s veiny hands and flee the premises.

“And you’ve married Bang,” Changbin said, pointing to my wedding band. “Which isn’t surprising.”

“Five years,” I said, trying my best to think about Chan and only Chan despite the literal embodiment of my every erotic high school fantasy sitting right in front of me.

“This would be strictly professional,” Changbin said, holding up my resume. “You were our best applicant, but I thought you should know everything about this place before taking the position. Including me.”

“Is that so?” was all I could think to say in return to his unexpectedly thoughtful comment.

Changbin lowered my resume slowly. “The job is yours, Y/N.”

“I’d still have to talk to Chan first,” I said because there’s no way I could just start working for Changbin without Chan knowing everything about the situation. Unfortunately, I could just about anticipate Chan’s response.

“That’s fine,” Changbin agreed. “You can call us tomorrow.”

I allowed a shaky nod, wondering if Changbin knew how much of an effect he still had on me all these years later.

Chan might be one of the smartest men I know, but he was, at his core, just a man who was quite whipped for his wife. Like all men, he was a sucker for lingerie, which is why I slipped on my best matching set, squeezing myself in the little black dress that I knew he really loved. 

The hem barely touched the middle of my thighs.

I was also cooking his favorite meal, the smell filling the kitchen pleasantly as I stood at the stove. My plan was quite simple: dress pretty for Chan and surprise him with his favorite food to soften him up. Maybe then he wouldn’t have a complete meltdown when I broke the news to him about my newest employer. 

But I still shivered when I heard the door open. “Y/N!”

“I’m in the kitchen,” I called back to him, attempting several meditative breaths to try and keep myself together.

“Holy shit,” he cursed, freezing in the doorway as he undoubtedly took in the sight of his wife wrapped in a tight black number.

“I’m making dinner,” I said, flashing him an arrogant smile, amused by the way he openly gaped at me while still wearing his oversized doctor’s coat. A result of an excited, freshly employed Chan filling out his form request with sloppy handwriting.

“You look hot,” Chan told me bluntly, eyes glued to my body as he eliminated the space between us with a few quick-paced steps.

“I got the job,” I said, letting out a nervous giggle as I continued to push around the searing bulgogi with a shaky hand. “Consider this a celebration.”

“That’s great, sweetie,” Chan said, standing behind me to wrap his arms around my middle, pressing soft kisses to the back of my neck, roaming hands feeling my body. “I guess the CEO liked you.”

A hellish double entendre. “Yeah, he was really nice.”

“I’m glad it worked out,” Chan said, voice next to my ear. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured to get a job or anything. I’m proud of you no matter what.”

Was it his intention to make me feel guilty? “Channie,” I sighed, turning around in his arms. “I have to tell you something.”

Chan cocked a brow. “What is it?”

“The company I’m working for...” 

“Yeah?”

“The CEO is someone we know.”

“Is that it?” Chan chuckled, accent thick as those adorable dimples filled out his smile. “Who is it, babe?”

“He used to go to school with us,” I tried, hoping that maybe Chan could just learn how to read my mind and save me the effort of mustering some kind of courage.

“Minho?” Chan teased.

“We’re not exactly friendly with him,” I said.

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention, but I’m not exactly friendly with Minho.”

“You jerk,” I huffed, half-heartedly pushing against his chest. “You really, really don’t like this person.”

“There aren’t many people I really, really don’t like,” Chan said. “Come on, Y/N, just tell me who it is. Are you afraid I’ll be upset with you?”

I swallowed hard. “Yes.”

Chan’s smile vanished in a minute. “Y/N.”

“Seo Enterprises,” I said. “The company name.”

Realization dawned across Chan’s face. “Are you saying...”

“Changbin,” I murmured, looking down at my feet. “He’s my new boss.”

Chan let out a rough exhale because he knew exactly who Seo Changbin was and I’m pretty sure he associated the name with deep hatred. “Are you fucking serious?”

I winced at Chan’s tone because he had quickly shifted from sweet, caring husband to angry, sinister Mr. Bang in the blink of an eye. “Yes?”

“The Seo Changbin,” Chan reiterated. “The guy you fucked for like six months Freshman year?”

“That would be the one,” I said, forcing myself to meet his gaze before immediately regretting the decision.

“Why the hell would you take a job as his Secretary?” Chan demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. Normally, I would admire the sight of Chan’s arms stretching the thin fabric of his t-shirt, but now I was just intimidated.

“Because I really wanted the job,” I said. “And I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“Oh, it’s a huge fucking deal,” Chan said, glaring down at me. “You think I’m okay with the idea of you working for someone you once told me you were, and I quote, definitely gonna marry?”

“But I’m married to you,” I tried, attempting a sugary-sweet tone that usually broke Chan’s resolve.

Except for tonight.

“Yeah,” Chan nodded, “You are, and I told you I would take care of you. I have enough money to support both of us, you don’t need to work at all.”

“Chan, you know I’m not comfortable sitting at home,” I said.

“I get that, Y/N, but Seo Changbin? I could get you a Secretary job at the hospital.”

“Channie, this is a position at Seo Enterprises. One of their biggest assets is New York Publishers! It’s like the perfect opportunity to get my foot in the door.”

“Y/N,” Chan groaned. “I can’t stand the thought of you working for Changbin under any circumstances.”

“I get it, Chan,” I said. “But it’s different than college. I’m married now, and Changbin is nothing more than my boss.”

“Does he really get that?” Chan asked. “I’m putting my foot down, Y/N. I don’t want you working for him, okay? You can call them tomorrow and say you’ve got something better.”

“But Channie!”

“No, Y/N,” Chan growled. “You can look for something else.”

I frowned once I realized Chan wasn’t going to back down. It didn’t matter that I wanted the job or that I had dressed up and cooked for him. For the first time since we met, Chan was refusing to give me what I wanted. “Chan, you really don’t have the right to tell me what to do.”

“I’m your husband,” Chan said, justifying his unfair demands with such patriarchal reasoning. 

“Fine,” I muttered darkly, ignoring the way his hand reached out for mine.

“Don’t be this way,” Chan said, following me as I marched to our bedroom, slamming the door closed behind me. “Y/N!” Chan shouted against the door, knocking loudly on the wood. “This is my room too!”

“Not tonight,” I informed him tersely, opening the door only to harshly shove a spare blanket and pillow at his chest. “Goodnight, darling.”

“This is Y/N,” I said into the phone. “I’m calling about-”

“One moment, Mrs. Bang, we can transfer you to Mr. Seo right away.”

“But you don’t understand...”

“Hello?”

“Changbin!” I squealed loudly into the phone, wincing at my shrill tone. 

“Y/N,” Changbin said pleasantly, voice as deep and gravelly as I remembered. “Is this the phone call I’ve been waiting for?”

“I’m not sure,” I said, making myself comfortable at the kitchen counter since I was a notorious pacer when it came to difficult conversations. “It depends on what you’re expecting.”

“I’m expecting to hear a confirmation,” Changbin said. “This is a perfect position for someone with your qualifications.”

“I know,” I groaned. “But I’m calling because I can’t take the job.”

“Really?” Changbin asked. “Can I ask why?”

“Chan isn’t comfortable with the idea,” I said.

“Is that so?” Changbin inquired, innocently enough. “I hope it isn’t because of college.”

“T-that’s not entirely why,” I stuttered because Changbin was apparently intuitive now that he owned some big, fancy company.

“I hope not,” Changbin said. “It wouldn’t be fair of Chan to keep you from a potential opportunity because of something like that.”

“It’s just a lot right now,” I said. “I haven’t had a job in a year. My last position was really good, but the company went bankrupt and I was laid off, so I’m just trying to be careful.”

“You wouldn’t have to worry about anything like that here, Y/N,” Changbin said. “This is a great opportunity for someone looking for a fresh start.”

Did he read my Facebook bio?

“I’m sure it is, Changbin, but I can’t do something that would make Chan uncomfortable.”

“But he’s not the one taking the position,” Changbin pointed out. “I can assure you, Y/N, you won’t find another position like this.”

“God, you’re good at negotiating.”

“Take the job, Y/N. I promise you won’t regret it.”

I could blame it on my desperation later, but I actually really liked the position. It promised a lot, especially considering the publishing company attached to Seo Enterprises. That would be my ultimate goal, to spend my days reading promising manuscripts while sipping expensive Starbucks coffee.

“I guess I can’t say no.”

“Then I’ll see you on Monday.”

Message to Channie

I took the job. I’m sorry but the opportunity was hard to pass up.

It only took a few seconds for Chan’s contact name to flash across my screen with an incoming call. I muted the sound like a coward, ignoring him completely while I started the ignition to the Corvette. A one-year anniversary present from Chan who was somehow more excited than I was when he first handed me the car key.

I drove to Minho’s apartment because I didn’t want to go home and I really had nowhere else to go. Plus, at least Minho was a reliable friend who really didn’t care if I crashed on his couch while he shoved cheap wine down my throat. In fact, Minho might be glad to see me since he was constantly complaining about his new hours at the shop.

“You look like shit,” Minho commented when he answered the door, standing aside to invite me inside. I shrugged off my coat, tossing it against the wall before slumping down onto the cheap sofa in Minho’s living room. The only piece of furniture he could afford in his ridiculously small New York apartment. “What happened?”

“I took the job with Changbin.”

Minho’s eyes widened in surprise. “You did? I can only assume Chan is lying somewhere on his deathbed.”

“No,” I snorted. “I took the job even though Chan asked me not to.”

“Savage,” Minho exhaled and I rolled my eyes at him.

“It’s a great opportunity!”

“When do you start?” Minho asked, feet propped up in my lap as he made himself more than comfortable next to me.

“Monday morning,” I said, mindlessly taking the remote to scroll through his limited TV channels. 

“And Chan is mad?” Minho repeated, glancing at me for confirmation. “Can you really blame him though?”

“Why?” I frowned.

“I mean, Chan’s been in love with you since high school. He used to trail after you all the time, but you only talked about Seo Changbin.”

“You’re not being a good friend right now,” I said, remembering with perfect clarity the image of a sixteen-year-old Chan, hair untamed and clothes mismatched. Chan was a constant presence in my life, even if I preened after another boy who certainly had no intention of remaining faithful.

“Go home to him, Y/N,” Minho said with far more seriousness than I was used to hearing from my still immature best friend. The same Minho who couldn’t find work for an entire year after graduation because he was too busy sleeping with any woman that walked on two legs, living with various girlfriends while slowly draining his savings account.

“Since when are you the voice of reason?” I grumbled.

“Well, we all have to grow up one day.”

I hated the rare occasions when he was right.

The house was eerily silent when I unlocked the door, spotlessly clean just as I had left it which made me feel bad because it meant Chan didn’t even try to eat anything. “You always make me worry,” I muttered, toeing off my shoes as I decided to check the bedroom. 

When Chan had first bought the house, he wanted it to look as close as possible to the random design I had pointed out at the local fair when we were Sophomore students. The plaque had deemed it the “house of the future” and I was enamored with the idea of the future back when my whole life was waiting right in front of me. A big dreamer who was already making wedding plans the moment Chan got down on one knee and proposed with his mother’s wedding ring.

“Channie,” I whispered into the darkness, cautiously tiptoeing my way to the side of the bed where Chan was facing away from me, sheets tucked in around his waist to leave his chest exposed. “I’m sorry.”

Chan let out a sigh. “What are you sorry for, Y/N?”

“I hurt you,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “I took the job with Changbin and I didn’t think about how it would affect you.”

“I fucking hate him,” Chan said, tone bitter and laced with venom. “I hate what he did to you Freshman year and I hate that he was the first person you loved.”

“Chan,” I sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I was really young and stupid back then. I should have never slept with Changbin. But he was just a fantasy, even when we were together, and I certainly never really loved him.” I leaned in closer, brushing his hair away from his forehead. “I’ve always loved you first. You mean the world to me and I’m sorry that I went behind your back to work for Changbin. But he’s definitely nothing more than a mistake from a past full of them. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Chan shifted from next to me, rolling onto his back. His eyes were looking at me like I was literally his entire world. “I’ll always worry, sweetie. You drive me insane these days.”

I grinned at the use of his pet name for me, reaching out to run a soothing hand along the defined lines of his stomach. “Don’t worry about me, darling, when you’re the one with a supermodel for a boss.”

“Fuck, we’re both screwed,” Chan said. “Does she drive you mad with jealousy?”

“Of course she does,” I said. “She has bigger tits than me.”

“Well, I like your tits,” Chan insisted. “Don’t even think about bringing up plastic surgery again.”

“It would be to your benefit,” I pointed out. 

“And the detriment to my savings account. Plus, I don’t want some old bastard fondling your tits while he pumps silicone in your chest.”

“Of all the things to worry about,” I sighed. “Does this mean we’re okay again?”

“You could probably step on me and I would still thank you for it, sweetie.”

“What if I sit on it instead?” I asked, moving my hand down to squeeze his flaccid cock.

“Makeup sex?” Chan gasped. “You don’t have to sell yourself out like this, babe.”

“Yeah? Well, I want to,” I said while proceeding to straddle his waist, smirking when Chan’s hands instantly moved to my hips. It was almost like a magnet, the reaction automatic after years of marriage. “You’re already hard,” I teased, reaching back to palm him over the sheets. 

Chan always slept in boxers which I certainly appreciated because it made the rare nights of our passionate lovemaking even more accessible. Chan lifted my shirt, groaning low when he saw that I was wearing nothing but a pair of satin panties. “This is why I’m already hard.”

“You don’t see me walking around the house in underwear,” I quipped playfully.

“It’s comfortable,” Chan whimpered, moaning when my hand found the smooth velvety head of his cock. 

“Something you never did when we were dating,” I said. “I spent weekends with you in the apartment.”

“Wanted to make a good impression,” Chan grumbled, eyes closed as he rolled his hips in time with my careful strokes. 

“So you don’t have to impress me anymore,” I said, glancing back at his cock, hot and heavy in my hand. “But I guess you still do.”

Chan moaned even louder at my words, fingers tightening in my wrinkled shirt. “Don’t make me cum yet.”

“Why not, darling?” I asked him cheekily, twisting my wrist just right, watching as a stuttered gasp fell from between his gorgeous pout.

“Wanna cum inside,” he said, biceps straining as he pulled me closer, kissing me with a desperation that only demonstrated just how gone he really was.

“Yeah?” I smirked, tongue tracing the ridges of his full lips. “I guess you deserve it after putting up with my bullshit all day.”

Chan nodded fervently and the sight was oddly endearing. It reminded me of when Chan and I first met in high school, a nerdy sixteen-year-old boy who had just transferred schools all the way from Australia. He had a thick accent, foreign and rich, just like the untamed mass of curls covering his deep brown eyes. Chan wore thick-rimmed glasses and he had a light dusting of freckles like the main character from Freckle Juice, one of my favorite childhood novels. He was nerdy and shy, sitting alone in the cafeteria at lunch and walking between classes with his shoulders hunched like he was afraid one of those horrible jocks would try to steal his bag again.

“Y/N!” he whined loudly, forcing me out of the memory.

“Alright, Channie, you want inside?”

I sat up on my knees to work down my panties, ignoring the way Chan’s fingers tried to interfere, pulling at the fabric like he could possibly make them disappear any faster. I grabbed the hem of his boxer shorts, teasingly pulling them down his thighs before brushing a kiss across the weeping tip of his cock, precum bitter on my tongue. For a moment, I admired his thick erection, remembering how nervous Chan was the very first time we had sex back before we were even old enough to drink alcohol.

I held his cock as I positioned myself over his lap. “I’ll do all the work tonight,” I said, listening to Chan’s sweet moans the entire time I slowly lowered myself onto his cock, enjoying the way he always filled me so deeply.

“Oh yeah, sweetie,” Chan grunted, hips moving messily as he tried to find a rhythm. “I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

 “Really?” I asked, swallowing down a moan when Chan hit just right, movements growing more and more confident as I returned every thrust. “I thought I was in charge tonight.”

Chan’s hands gripped my waist firmly, eyes wide open as he focused on where we were connected. “I’m always in charge.”

“Definitely,” I said, bracing my hands against his firm chest for balance because I was weak for this version of Chan. A complete contradiction to the one I first started dating, sweetly doting as he did everything in his power to make me happy. An image of a beautifully innocent Chan looking up from his position between my thighs. “It’s good?”

“So good,” I whispered aloud, peppering kisses across the pale expanse of Chan’s creamy skin, laving my tongue against a sensitive nipple which forced a temporary break from his regular tempo.

“Don’t play dirty, sweetie,” Chan said, giving me no warning before he was pushing me onto my back, hovering over me with his irresistible bedroom eyes. His hands spread my thighs wide, giving himself more room to fuck inside, movements growing faster with every step closer to what was beginning to feel like an intense orgasm. I’m talking about the kind that I could feel between my legs for days after I tried to walk straight again. “Do I need to touch you?”

“Fuck, I think you’re doing just fine,” I said. “Where the hell did this come from?”

“You woke up my competitive side,” Chan said, hitting deep like we were suddenly 20-years-old again sneaking quickies between lectures. Back then, Chan could literally fuck me against a wall, my legs wrapped around his gorgeous hips while he knocked the breath out of my lungs. Thank god, Chan decided that college would be his glory years, working out aggressively in the gym until he had muscles filling out the places where he had previously been soft. But I would always miss his pudgy stomach, even if his ass was now something out of a porn magazine. 

“Well fuck,” I moaned. “I’ll have to do this more often.”

“I’d do it all the time if I wasn’t working until 3 in the morning at the hospital,” Chan said.

“Good point, should I come in at lunch then? You can lock us in one of the empty rooms.”

“Oh shit, sweetie, you shouldn’t talk that way,” Chan growled and it was one of the sexiest sounds I had ever heard.

“I’m close,” I warned him, digging my fingers in his scalp as his teeth teased against my collarbone.

“Me too,” he said, breaths uneven as he punctuated his words with a series of harsh ruts that sent my eyes rolling into the back of my skull. His fingers found my clit, thumb pressing down hard enough to trigger one of the best orgasms I had experienced in a long time.

I tightened around his stuttering cock, moaning when I could feel his cum deep inside, warm and wet. “Shit, you’re so good at that.”

Chan pulled out slowly, eyes growing wide at the sight of his cum leaking down my ass. “Left a fucking mess though.”

“We can shower later,” I said, grabbing his arm to encourage him to lie down next to me, burying my face against his chest, scarlet-red from the exertion.

“Was the dick that good?” Chan teased, running his fingers soothingly along my spine.

“Your dick is that good,” I replied. “The genetics are strong.”

“I’ll be sure to tell my parents,” Chan said, giggling as I shot him a warning glare. “I love you, sweetie.”

“Mmm, I love you more.”

1 Week Later

Lee Felix is the spawn of the devil and nobody could convince me otherwise. Because ever since we first met, when Chan invited me over to his house for a project, Felix had decided that I was his number one enemy, deeming me “Medusa” because he was enamored with Greek Mythology. But the unfortunate nickname had stuck throughout the years, even when Felix visited our college between breaks, forcing me to sleep on the couch while he shared the bed with his step-brother. 

Recently, Felix had just finished his Master’s program for some kind of fancy Philosophy degree that would probably do him absolutely no good in the real world. But Chan was proud of his baby brother, inviting him to stay with us after graduation until Felix could stand on his own two feet. The decision was met by my instantaneous protest leading to an argument that I inevitably lost because Chan was still using Changbin as a winning point. However, even before my employment with Seo Enterprises, Felix was the cause of at least 95% of our arguments and I was not exaggerating in the slightest.

The sound of the doorbell ringing was suddenly a lot louder than I remember. “Death is here,” I said solemnly, ignoring the way Chan scoffed at my claim. I followed behind him somberly as he opened the door, letting out an excited cheer when he saw Felix waiting on the other side. Felix dropped his bag and practically screamed, which would likely wake up the entire neighborhood, jumping into his brother’s arm as the two embraced right in the middle of my foyer. 

“Could you be any louder?” I snarled at the younger Bang. 

“Maybe I could, Medusa,” Felix shot back, eyes narrowed as he picked up his bag. 

“Come on, Felix,” Chan said, nodding at the kitchen. “I bet you’re hungry.”

Felix nodded, putting on his best smile for his ignorant brother, shoving his bag harshly at my chest as he walked by. “You can take care of that for me, right Medusa?”

“You little bitch,” I muttered, meeting his glare with one of my own.

The only thing worse than going out with Felix was including Han Jisung in the equation. For whatever reason, Jisung and Felix always riled each other up, chugging down alcohol like it was fucking water or something. However, Felix wanted to see Jisung again and Chan never said no to his little brother. This is why I was currently seated next to Chan at a cheesy bar in downtown Harlem, listening to Felix and Jisung try to talk over one another as Chan looked on with fond eyes. The only good part of the night was the fact that even Chan had allowed himself to get a little tipsy which meant he was doing his absolute best to feel me up in public. I always found it amusing, knocking his hand away when his eager fingers started to trail up my skirt.

“Felix,” Jisung whined. “How can you say that?”

“Oi, there’s no way you can put Nickleback and Green Day in the same fucking category.”

I rolled my eyes at the stupid argument, smacking Chan’s hand when he started to finger the waistband of my skirt. “Chan!” Jisung pouted. “Tell him that he’s wrong.”

“Tell the philosophy major that he’s wrong?” Chan asked, accent on full display as he reached out to playfully ruffle Felix’s hair. “You can’t even answer the phone at the receptionist’s desk.”

Felix loved the attention and I hated it when he came over only to occupy Chan’s every waking hour with his never-ending thirst for affection. But I wasn’t going to let him get away with it tonight. I cleared my throat, stretching my arms back behind my head because I knew how good it would make my breasts look in the rather low-cut shirt I had chosen for tonight’s affair. I glanced over at Chan, smiling victoriously when I saw the way his eyes had glued themselves to my chest. Even Han Jisung was looking, which would normally annoy me to no end, but I was putting on my best behavior tonight. “Chan!” Felix shouted, trying to regain his brother’s attention. “Did you hear that I scored the highest honors on my research project?”

And just like that, Chan’s attention was redirected to Satan, eyes glowing with pride. “That’s amazing, Felix!”

“I can tell you all about it,” Felix said arrogantly, tossing me a cocky smile which left me absolutely incensed. “The board was so impressed, they offered to publish my results in the University’s magazine.”

“Are you serious, Felix?” Jisung asked which was an even bigger blow because the only two things occupying Jisung’s thoughts were women and alcohol. 

So I decided to push my luck, tugging down my skirt before shifting over in the booth to plant myself directly on Chan’s lap, wrapping my arms around his neck before nuzzling into his warm chest. “Channie,” I cooed while glaring at Felix from the corner of my eye. 

“Do you want something, sweetie?” Chan asked, smile blinding as one hand wrapped around my waist, leaving the other to tease the bare skin of my thighs. 

I reached for Chan’s beer, shoving the glass at him because nothing made Chan hornier than thighs and alcohol. “Should I come to see you at work tomorrow? Like we talked about before?”

Chan’s eyes lit with recognition and I smirked victoriously when I felt him grow hard in his tight jeans. “I’d really like that.”

And to seal my victory, I leaned forward to kiss my intoxicated husband, ignoring the sloppy way he reciprocated, breath musty with the taste of beer. Felix growled lowly from across the booth and Jisung let out a wolf whistle at our blatant display. But I was on cloud nine, satisfied to have won Chan’s attention because it meant Felix was going to be quite unhappy for the rest of the night.

“Medusa, aren’t you going to make me breakfast?”

I groaned as I glanced over at the alarm clock which informed me that it was only 9:00 AM. “Fuck, Felix, go back to sleep.”

“But I’m hungry,” he whined, reaching across the bed to tug on my arm.

“It’s Saturday,” I hissed, barely clinging to the wonderful promise of more sleep which would do wonders for my hungover state.

“Chan wouldn’t be happy with you,” Felix reminded me. “Should I call him at work?”

“Get out of here you little maggot,” I snapped. “I’ll fix you some damn breakfast.”

“Now!” Felix ordered like he had every right to make demands of me, but I didn’t want Felix to say anything to Chan because that would only lead to another needless argument. 

“You’re a fucking menace,” I said, throwing off my bedsheets while briefly mourning the loss of my precious sleep. But I don’t want anyone to ever say that I was a bad wife, especially when I put up with Lee Felix just to make Chan happy. 

Felix was already seated at the counter when I finally drug myself out of my bedroom, groggily reaching for a clean pan from the cabinet. “You get eggs and bacon,” I told him. “I’m not a gourmet chef.”

“Whatever,” Felix said, ignoring me completely in exchange for his cell phone. Which Chan was now paying for to help “lessen Felix’s financial burden.” 

“Chan,” I remember telling him. “You’ll spoil him if you keep doing things like that. He’ll never want to leave!”

“What’s wrong with that?” Chan had shot back as if the idea of living with his younger brother for the rest of our married life was perfectly acceptable.

“A million things,” I muttered now, cracking one of the eggs against the side of the pan. 

“I hear you’re working for Seo Changbin,” Felix abruptly spoke up, and I could practically feel his eyes on me. “He cheated on you, right?”

“It’s really none of your business,” I informed him brusquely, grabbing a spatula while wondering if I could teach Felix a lesson if I hit him a few times.

“My brother isn’t happy,” Felix continued as if my warning meant nothing to him. Probably because it didn’t. “I think it’s a bad idea, but your satisfaction always comes first, right?”

“Why the fuck did Chan tell you this?” I gritted out while aggressively slamming the fridge closed, pack of bacon gripped tightly in my hand.

“He tells me everything,” Felix said smartly. “Because he trusts me.”

“Good for you,” I huffed over my shoulder. “I’m glad you have such a close relationship with your brother.”

“Jealous?” Felix taunted, expression smug when I roughly placed down a glass in front of him.

“Is orange juice, okay?” I asked him in a faux sweet voice.

“It’s fine,” Felix shrugged. “But whatever is most inconvenient for you.”

“What a sweet little boy you are,” I said, pouring him a generous amount. “How long do you plan on staying here?”

“Chan says I can stay for as long as I want,” Felix said, narrowing his eyes. “You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”

“Of course not,” I muttered. “Two Bangs are better than one.”

“That’s right,” Felix said brightly, taking a sip from his glass. “Ugh, does this have pulp in it?”

“Drink your fucking orange juice, Felix!”

The invention of video games was a godsend because they could occupy Felix’s attention for hours, leaving me in relative peace as I tried not to let him destroy every last bit of my resolve. I was currently having a bath alone in the sanctity of my bathroom, shoulder-deep in soothing bath salts which I kept well-stocked in the cabinet underneath the sink. The aroma was pleasant, sending me to a place somewhere far away to where Felix’s were strictly prohibited.

For the entirety of the day, Felix had been doing his best to get on my nerves. I cooked him breakfast and lunch, cleaned his disgusting laundry, and even held my tongue when he requested I drive him to the mattress store because the guest bedroom was unsatisfactory. But it had always been like this between us, ever since the day I first met Felix and tried my best to make a good impression. Unfortunately, Felix idolized his older brother, deeming any girl unworthy of his time and efforts, including myself. Of course, above anyone else, Felix thought I was the worst possible choice, reminding me every second that his brother deserved someone smarter, richer, and prettier. 

Suddenly, my phone vibrated loudly on the edge of the bathtub and I hesitantly glanced at the screen, half-expecting to see Felix’s name displayed like a caution sign. Surprisingly, it was Chan who had sent me a message to ask where I was, which meant Felix had lied through his teeth and said I’d gone somewhere. 

To Channie

Bathroom.

It was only a moment or two later when the door opened and Chan stuck his head inside, offering me a pleasant smile as he locked the door behind him. “You’re home early,” I remarked, vacantly staring up at the ceiling.

“It’s Saturday night,” Chan reminded me. “I thought the three of us could go out to eat.”

I groaned in protest. “What about takeout?”

“You love going out,” Chan said. “I’ll even let you pick the restaurant.”

“I have way too many problems right now,” I said. “I’m avoiding them by staying in the water for as long as I can.”

“Sweetie,” Chan said, taking a step closer. “You should’ve waited for me.”

“Why?” I asked him airily. “You’re one of those problems.”

“Me?” Chan asked, choosing to sit down on the edge of the tub. “What did I do wrong?”

“No arguments tonight,” I said, letting out a deep sigh. “This is the most relaxed I’ve been all day.”

“Aren’t you being overdramatic?” Chan asked, reaching down to flick a trail of water in my direction. “I was in surgery for 6 hours today.”

“Yeah? Well, I’ve dealt with Felix since 9 this morning.”

“Ah,” Chan sighed. “I figured it had something to do with my brother.”

“Just forget it,” I whined. “You know we don’t get along.”

“I do know that,” Chan said. “But I wish you both made a better effort. We’re family after all.”

I shivered at the idea of Felix belonging to any family of mine. “You can keep him on your side, then. I grew up as an only child, look at how much better I turned out for it.”

“You told me you had imaginary friends growing up because you were so lonely,” Chan teased.

“Asshole,” I muttered. “That’s sensitive information that I told you in confidentiality. You should know all about patient-doctor confidentiality. Didn’t you have a whole lecture on it?”

“Y/N,” Chan lightly chastised, reaching for a towel on the rack next to the counter. “Get dressed, we’re leaving in an hour.”

“You’ve condemned me to death,” I complained, watching through lidded eyes as he stretched out his arms.

“I’m serious, Y/N, at least try to get along for my sake.”

“That’s all I ever do,” I muttered to his retreating form.

Hwang Hyunjin is a willing accomplice to the devil himself who never misses an opportunity to throw out some lascivious comments about my appearance. He was Felix’s best friend and partner in crime, sharing his goal of making my life as miserable as possible. He was also coming out to eat with us tonight and no matter how much I whined to Chan, he remained adamant that Felix should spend some time with his friends. “He’s only young once,” Chan told me, ignoring the way I glared at him with every ounce of hostility that I could muster.

“Did you paint those pants on, Y/N?” Hyunjin asked the minute he sat down in the backseat next to Felix.

“I did, actually, thanks for the unnecessary observation,” I told him shortly, still focused on the staring contest I was having with Felix in the rearview mirror.

“Don’t mind her, she’s probably on her period,” Felix said and I took in a deep breath because I was very close to turning around in my seat to choke the life out of Felix’s pencil neck.

“How have you been, Hyunjin?” Chan asked, one hand on the steering wheel as he calmly navigated us through the permanent traffic of New York.

“I applied for a job with Amazon,” Hyunjin replied. “I don’t wanna brag, but I definitely nailed the interview.”

“Yeah right,” I muttered under my breath. Hyunjin had the worst people skills in the history of mankind. He was almost as incompetent as Han Jisung, but ten times worse because of his sarcastic attitude.

“You’ll get me Amazon Prime for free, right bro?” Felix giggled and I resisted the urge to mock the sound.

“I’m proud of you, Hyunjin,” Chan said. “I know you worked hard.”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Hyunjin said. “But the chick who interviewed me was really hot and I think I appropriately swept her off her feet.”

“Big tits?” Felix asked because that’s all those stupid boys cared about.

“Of course,” Hyunjin said. “But I’m still waiting for you, Y/N, whenever you’re ready.”

Felix scoffed. “You could do better than Medusa.”

“How about some music?” I snapped loudly, reaching down for the radio knob to block out the sounds of Felix and Hyunjin’s voices.

Monday mornings were the worst thing to ever happen to mankind next to Lee Felix. I was sipping at my morning coffee, cold now because Felix had spent way too much time ordering me around the kitchen before I left home. But it was better than nothing and I desperately needed caffeine to get through the day. “Morning, Y/N,” Changbin greeted me smoothly, suit well-pressed and fitted to hug his arms and thighs just right.

“Sure,” I said in reply, trudging to my chair in slow motion. 

“Are you always this lively in the mornings?” Changbin remarked, leaning against my desk as he looked through his mail.

“Just on Mondays,” I said, booting up my computer so that I could answer the dozens of emails likely waiting for me, most of which would come from annoying sponsors who wanted Changbin to be on their dumb podcast. 

“Well, you still look gorgeous,” Changbin said.

My cheeks flushed at his comment. “You still need to call Mr. Kim back, he’s left another voicemail.”

“Just one call?” Changbin smirked, eyes dancing dangerously. “Have you been scaring everyone off, Y/N?”

“I did just as you asked, sir.”

“You don’t have to call me sir,” Changbin chuckled, carefully engrossed in his cell phone now as he graciously returned to his own office.

I shivered as I glanced at my computer screen. Changbin was still as notoriously flirtatious as he had been when we were younger. In fact, it might be worse now that he had finally grown into his sharper features which made him look ridiculously attractive. “I love Chan, I love Chan,” I quietly repeated to myself, even as a distant memory suddenly forced itself back into consciousness.

An 18-year-old Seo Changbin walking inside my lecture hall wearing a dark button-up tucked into the tightest pair of skinny jeans he probably owned. Every eye in that lecture room had suddenly turned to him because he was an irresistible force, impossible to ignore. “Y/N?” 

Be cool Y/N, I softly chastised myself as I offered him a friendly smile. “Hi, Changbin.”

It was purely coincidental that Changbin had ended up at the same University as me, but that didn’t stop my fragile teenage heart from declaring it as something akin to fate. “It’s been a while,” Changbin said, pulling out the chair next to mine.

I swallowed hard because my mouth was as dry as a desert. “I didn’t know you were enrolled here.”

“It was my first pick,” Changbin said. “My father is an alumnus.”

“Really?” I asked, ignoring the arrival of the professor in exchange for mapping out every single one of Changbin’s gorgeous features.

“This class is just for gen ed,” Changbin said, pushing a hand through his neatly styled black hair.

“Oh, same for me,” I nodded. “I heard it was pretty easy.”

“Is that right?” Changbin asked while flashing me an award-winning smile. Roll out the red carpets because this boy was cool enough to be in an action film co-starring Tom Holland and Ancel Elgort.

But what were we talking about? “I’m majoring in English.”

“Political Science,” Changbin returned. “And Business.”

I deflated a little because, in comparison to my lousy arts degree, Changbin seemed like a certified genius. He would be educated in the art of entrepreneurship and big money while I struggled to comprehend the meaning of Great Expectations. “Have you met anyone else from high school?”

“Not yet,” Changbin said. “What about you?”

“Well, Bang Chan’s enrolled here too...” I started, only to trail off when I realized that Changbin probably had no idea who Chan was since he never paid attention to him in high school. Actually, Changbin would have been more likely to join the football jocks who liked to steal Chan’s stuff only to tie his underwear to the flagpole outside the gym.

“The nerdy Australian kid?” Changbin chuckled. “That sucks.”

“Oh,” was all I could manage since Changbin obviously didn’t know that Chan and I were friends. 

“You don’t hang out with him, do you?” Changbin asked, peering at me closely like I was seconds away from losing the honor of his company.

“We have lunch sometimes,” I said, which was only partially true since I did like to meet up with Chan in the dining hall around 2:00 because it was never crowded. But Changbin didn’t need to know that I had spent the night in Chan’s apartment listening to him record one of his mixtapes because Chan had a newfound interest in music. 

“You could do better,” Changbin sighed. “Hang out with me instead. I’ll treat you to the nicest fast food joint on campus.”

My heart was racing, palms clammy as I nodded my head rapidly. “Lunch?”

“Whatever you want, love,” Changbin said, close proximity knocking every rational thought clean out of my head.

It was like my best fantasy coming to life right before my very eyes, and after our lecture ended I asked Changbin to wait for me while I made a phone call to Chan. “Y/N!” came his cheerful voice from the other end. “Guess who got to dissect a liver today?”

I wrinkled my nose at the nasty image. Chan was studying to enter the medical program which meant a lot of his daily life centered around the human body and all sorts of things that could go wrong with it. “Chan,” I whined. “You’re talking to someone who can’t stand the sight of blood.”

“I know,” Chan sniggered. “Does this mean you’re not gonna want to eat lunch with me today? You know I’ll pay, of course, I got a raise at the cafe.”

“Well,” I started, desperately searching for the right words. “I actually have to meet with my professor for this essay I’ve been having trouble with.”

“No problem,” Chan said. “I’ll bring you takeout for dinner. Doesn’t your roommate have practice tonight?”

I glanced back at Changbin with a guilty conscience. Why did Chan have to be so sweet all the time? “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“No liver talk, I promise,” Chan giggled and I hung up the phone before he could make me feel even worse than I already did.

“You want to get some lunch?” Changbin asked with his hands dug inside his pockets as he stood in front of my desk.

“Like, with me?” I asked warily because I wasn’t sure where the line stood on professionalism when it involves eating with an ex-boyfriend.

“Who else?” Changbin said. “I figured we could use a break from the phone calls.”

“I don’t know...” I answered hesitantly because Chan would probably lose his shit if he discovered I went out anywhere with Changbin.

“It’s not a big deal, Y/N,” Changbin said. “My job is to make sure my employees are well taken care of.”

“I guess,” I sighed, reaching down for my purse on the floor. “One lunch together won’t hurt anything.”

But Changbin seemed awfully smug, patiently waiting for me to gather my belongings, stuffing my phone with an unanswered text from Chan inside my side pocket. It’s almost like the universe was conspiring against me, doing its very best to try and force me into the worst situations possible. Here’s an irrational thought: what if Chan happened to decide to go out for lunch today? He might find me with Changbin and I couldn’t think of a worse scenario. Of course, I suppose it doesn’t necessarily have to be Chan who finds us. For example, if his younger step-brother was to suddenly wander in the building at this very moment...

“Medusa!”

Curse you, universe!

“Felix?” 

“I brought us lunch!” Felix chirped brightly, holding up a picnic basket as he waltzed right up to my desk with far more confidence than necessary.

I blinked my eyes rapidly, unable to process the idea that Felix was standing in the middle of the company’s lobby. “Is it poisoned?” I asked, trying not to alert him to any possible wrongdoing.

Felix ignored me, turning around to face Changbin with a critical gaze. “Seo? Is that you?”

“Felix,” Changbin acknowledged, frowning as if he was the last person on earth he wanted to see, and I could share the sentiment.

“Fuck,” Felix cursed, taking a step back. “You still look really young. I was surprised when Y/N told me you were her new boss.”

“I didn’t tell you that,” I said, opening the flaps of the basket only to let out a disgruntled sigh when I realized he had only brought a bag of chips and a tray of cookies.

“And what are you doing these days?” Changbin asked.

“Freelance work, mostly,” Felix replied as if he really needed to lie to Changbin about his lack of a suitable occupation.

“I forgot what you majored in,” Changbin said. “It was hard to keep up since you changed your concentration like a dozen times.”

I couldn’t hold back my laugh, even when Felix sneered in my direction. “Philosophy.”

“Interesting,” Changbin said, nodding his head. “I’m actually surprised to hear that. You never settled on anything.”

Seo Changbin needed to be careful because his charm points were dramatically increasing the more he mocked my husband’s step-brother. “I actually just finished my Masters.”

“Really?” Changbin said. “This coming from the same boy who used to party with Hwang Hyunjin at all the Fraternities, even if they were on a different campus.”

“It was just Freshman year,” Felix defended himself. 

“Well,” Changbin started, “I’m glad to hear about your graduation. Y/N and I were actually just about to head out to lunch.”

I winced at his words, withering under Felix’s accusing watch. “Is that so?”

Changbin carefully studied the two of us. “I’ll be waiting in my car, Y/N.”

I grabbed my bag while pushing the picnic basket back in Felix’s direction. “I swear to god if you tell Chan about this, I’ll castrate you in your sleep.”

“We’ll see about that,” Felix growled, and that was the moment I realized that I was treading very dangerous waters.

Changbin drove us to a charming restaurant about two blocks away from the main company building. He pulled right up to the sidewalk, handing his keys to the waiting carhop as if he had done this about a thousand times. But I guess that was pretty likely considering just how well-off he was ten years later. “Impressive,” I remarked to him, reluctantly accepting his outstretched hand as he helped me out of his car.

“Yeah?” Changbin said, offering me a wink. “Maybe I’m trying to impress you.”

“You’re a dangerous man, Seo Changbin,” I told him, bowing slightly to the waiting doorman who kindly ushered us inside.

This was why the pretty girls always lusted after Changbin. When we were both still in high school, Changbin epitomized the phrase #BoyfriendGoals because he was super attractive, incredibly smart, and athletic enough to earn himself a shining record after an impressive baseball season. And I was just as mindless as the rest of the zombies chasing him down in the parking lot at school or squealing his name in the hallways between classes.

“I eat here all the time,” Changbin assured me, flashing the hostess a dazzling smile while handing her his card. 

“Right this way, Mr. Seo,” the hostess curtsied, ignoring the long line of waiting patrons who apparently didn’t matter as much as my new boss as she led us to a private table. “Your waitress will be with you shortly.”

“Thank you,” I said politely, eyes wide as I took in the gorgeous chandelier dropping from the high-domed ceiling.

“Close your mouth, Y/N,” Changbin said. “You act like you’ve never been somewhere like this before.”

“Not exactly,” I said because the nicest place Chan had ever taken me was an Olive Garden and that had ended poorly after Chan accidentally knocked his shoulder against a poor server on his way back to the table causing an avalanche of salad and breadsticks.

“Bang should be taking you to places like this all the time,” Changbin commented, perhaps a casual observation to anyone else.

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. “Chan and I prefer to keep things low-key.”

“Should I have taken you to Applebees instead?”

“How funny.”

“I’m kidding, Y/N,” Changbin said, reaching down to adjust the buttons on his coat sleeve. “You’ve changed a lot since college.”

“Since we dated you mean?” I asked with an arched brow.

“Well,” Changbin started, “if you want to think of it like that.”

“Hmmm,” I briefly meditated, studying Changbin’s expression carefully. “How else should I think about it.”

Changbin tsked, raising a hand to signal for a nearby waiter. “I don’t mean to suggest anything.”

The waiter approached our table with purposed steps. “How may I help you, sir?”

“A wine menu?” Changbin asked, nodding generously when the waiter returned with his requested selection. 

“You make a beautiful couple,” the waiter gushed while he pulled out a thick leather wallet, flipping to a fresh page.

“Oh! We’re not-”

“-A bottle of pinot noir, please,” Changbin said, returning the menu without bothering to correct the waiter’s observation.

“Right away, sir,” the waiter agreed.

I held my tongue until he was further away, bothering an older couple who were probably complaining about something to do with their food. “Changbin,” I warned him. “You should be careful.”

“It was a harmless mistake,” Changbin said. “How can I possibly come between you and Bang?”

I worried my bottom lip between my teeth because it sounded less like a dismissal and more like a challenge.

The sun was already setting by the time I returned home thanks to one of Changbin’s business partners who refused to leave the office building until they had a chance to speak to him. I was low on patience, tired from an exhausting day of dealing with telemarketers insisting our company needed the latest software for our clientele. There was only a limited number of times I could tell somebody to fuck off before inevitably shouting into the other end that I was in no way interested in whatever useless product they were trying to shove down my throat, complete with some kind of scammy discount and an opportunity to be represented on their website.

To make matters worse, my feet were blistered from wearing heels all day and my shoulders ached from slouching over my computer to answer emails and monitor the progress of Changbin’s latest project. My only saving grace was the message Chan had sent me earlier telling me that he had already clocked out at work, which meant I could probably guilt him into giving me one of his trademarked messages. I mean, all I wanted to do was curl up next to Chan in bed and sleep for the rest of the day.

But it looked like my desires would have to wait because as soon as I unlocked the door to the house, I could immediately sense that something was wrong. Taking a deep breath, I cautiously walked into the living room to find Chan and Felix busy with some kind of video game on our HD TV, volume high until I walked in the room. Chan waited until I called his name, reaching for the remote to mute the TV before tossing his controller onto the coffee table. From across the room, Felix’s eyes were alight with mischief.

“How was work today?” Chan asked with a tone that I only ever heard when my husband was feeling particularly pissed off about something, and I had a sneaking suspicion it involved me in some capacity.

“It was fine,” I said, deciding to play it safe while I kept my complaints to myself.

Felix smirked in my direction, whistling to himself as he reached for his game controller. “Felix told me something interesting today.”

“Oh did he?” I asked, wondering just how much pain Felix could tolerate if I marched over to him right now and hit him with an umbrella.

“He said he tried to have lunch with you.”

“I was busy.”

“With Seo Changbin?”

Felix was definitely going to die tonight. That little snitch deserved every ounce of punishment I was starting to formulate inside my head. “He invited me out instead.”

“I got that,” Chan snapped and I knew my husband was in a foul mood. I’m talking about the kind of mood that usually sent me scampering for the safety of the bunkers. Like the time some drunk asshole rear-ended Chan’s precious convertible while we were sitting in downtown traffic. Or the time when we were Freshmen in college and Chan confronted Changbin after finding out that he had been cheating on me.

But this time the problem was me which meant I couldn’t just hide from Chan and wait for things to go back to normal. “Honey,” I attempted to reassure him. “It was just lunch.”

“Yeah? But that doesn’t seem like keeping things strictly professional to me, Y/N.”

“He’s my boss now, I can’t just tell him no.”

“Actually, you can,” Chan disagreed, now refusing to look at me. “How would you like it if I ate with my new superintendent?”

“Depends on if she offered to pay or not.”

“Y/N.”

“Chan,” I pouted. “I’m really sorry! He just surprised me.”

“It makes me wonder what else you might be doing with him,” Chan snarked.

Meanwhile, Felix calmly continued to play his video game while wearing the biggest shit-eating grin. “Are you accusing me of having an affair?”

“Why not?” Chan shrugged. “Since we’re keeping secrets from each other.”

“It was just one lunch,” I shouted. “He’s never done anything like this before. Most of the time I’m alone in the lobby taking his stupid phone calls.”

“And that’s all I should ever hear about,” Chan growled. 

“You’re making this into a bigger deal than it needs to be,” I scoffed, rolling my eyes before remembering just how much Chan hated it when I did that to him.

“Y/N,” Chan addressed me sternly, deciding to abandon his seat on the couch to crowd me in the foyer. “If this was anyone else, I wouldn’t make it into a bigger deal, but this is someone you used to fuck while running around campus bragging about it to everyone who would listen...which was usually me!”

“He doesn’t mean anything to me,” I said. “I already told you that!”

“You’ve said a lot of things recently,” Chan said. “I’m not sure what to believe anymore.”

“Yeah? Well, it’s your brother’s fault since he’s always looking to cause a fight between us,” I said, glaring at Felix while he continued to play the part of the perfect little angel that Chan always considered him.

“Don’t drag Felix into this, he has nothing to do with anything!”

“Oh, don’t be stupid, Chan,” I huffed. “We fight more about Felix than we do about Changbin.”

“Stupid?!”

Oh, Jesus, Y/N, when are you going to learn to watch your big mouth? “Channie, I’m tired of fighting all the time. I feel like we’re always fighting.”

“Yeah? Well, you give me a lot of reasons to stay mad at you.”

“For fuck’s sake,” I groaned. “We never fought this much when we were dating.”

“Is that so? You think our marriage is the problem?”

I froze at his implications. At this point, Felix might as well drag out a bucket of popcorn because this was probably the most interesting drama he had watched all year. “Chan, you can’t honestly believe that.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” Chan said, shaking his head. “But maybe I’ll give you some time to think about it.”

“Chan!” I whined, fighting back tears as I watched him turn his back on me. For the first time since we had met, Chan was leaving an argument unresolved, choosing to lock himself away in our bedroom while I struggled to keep myself together in the middle of our foyer. 

“Goodbye, Y/N,” Felix whispered into the silent room, waving his fingers at me because he had gotten exactly what he wanted.

Felix’s birthday often turned into a multiple-day affair because he always wanted the best that money could buy. Since Chan and I still weren’t speaking to one another, Chan was taking the brunt of party preparations which meant Felix was practically over the moon with excitement. And why shouldn’t he be? He hit the metaphorical jackpot because he somehow got me in the doghouse while he soaked up all of Chan’s attention. 

“Y/N,” Felix whined. “My toast is burnt!”

“Sorry,” I murmured softly, taking his plate even though the bread looked perfectly fine. Meanwhile, Chan chose not to say a word, heavily engrossed in his laptop and doing his absolute best to pretend I was invisible. 

“What about this, Felix?” he asked, tilting his laptop screen so that his brother could see whatever it was that probably cost hundreds of dollars. On the other hand, I couldn’t even find the courage to ask Chan for his credit card so that I could replace the broken stool at our counter.

“That’s perfect, Channie!” Felix grinned, hanging off his brother’s shoulder like the little pest he was. 

Our Amazon shopping cart was steadily filling with Felix’s party supplies. But I guess it was just Chan’s account now since he had changed the password without telling me. I tried to order a new curtain for the bathroom, only to repeatedly watch the warning screen pop-up with every refresh of the page. “Who do you want at your party?” Chan asked Felix.

“Hyunjin, Jisung...” Felix started, listing out each name while I winced every time because our house would probably end up completely trashed at this rate.

“Whatever you want,” Chan said, apparently forgetting the last time Jisung came over only to break one of my grandmother’s expensive vases. Since it was my stuff, he probably didn’t care. “I have to leave soon,” Chan said, wordlessly clicking on the ‘place your order ’ button before logging off.

“Will you be gone all day again?” Felix pouted, jutting out his bottom lip and offering his very best puppy dog eyes.

23-years-old my ass.

“I’ll do my best,” Chan promised his brother. “Do you need anything while I’m out.”

“More chocolate cereal?”

10-years-old more likely.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Chan cooed to Felix, ruffling his hair before snatching his coat from my outstretched hand, refusing to even acknowledge my existence. 

Felix waited until Chan was gone to lean in across the counter. “You two are so cute, Medusa.”

“I fucking hate you,” I said, aggressively attacking the grease stain on the stainless steel pot I was currently washing.

“Whatever,” Felix shrugged. “Will you ask Minho to come to my birthday party?”

“There’s not a fucking chance in hell that I’m asking him,” I snapped.

“Why?” Felix posed the question as if he felt absolutely no shame. “I like Minho and I want him to be there.”

“Fuck off,” I retorted, drying my hands against the rough texture of the dishtowel.

Felix sniffled, reaching for his phone and holding it up to his ear. “Channie? Yeah, Y/N was being really mean to me-”

“-Jesus, fine, I’ll ask him,” I quickly interrupted the little Devil. “How old are you turning again?”

“24!” Felix grinned. 

“Then act like it,” I muttered while dialing Minho’s number.

There were only two rings before he answered. “It’s too early on Saturday for this bullshit, Y/N,” came Minho’s pleasant voice from the other end.

“You sleep too much anyway,” I returned. “I have something to ask you.”

“It better be pretty fucking important.”

“Will you come to Felix’s stupid birthday party this Friday?” I asked him, ignoring Felix’s bright smile as he tried to listen in on our conversation.

“Did you buy booze?”

“I’m sure Chan will buy the little bastard all the booze he wants,” I said, pushing Felix out of the way.

“What time?” Minho asked. “I’m a very busy man, Y/N.”

“The hell you are,” I snorted. “9:00 PM. Don’t be late! I’ll be the pathetic piece of trash sitting on the couch alone.”

“It’s about time you learn, Y/N,” Felix remarked, giggling when I threw the dishtowel at him.

“Still in trouble with hubby?” Minho asked. “I hear you have to stay separated for a year before the courts grant divorces these days.”

“You’re an asshole,” I said. “Should I put you down on the guest list?”

“Of course,” Minho said. “Underlined because I’m a VIP”

I hung up on him before he could dig his grave any deeper.

“Don’t burn that,” Felix scolded me, hovering by my side to play the part of Gordon Ramsay while I sweated my ass off to cook everything on his stupid party menu.

“It’s not burnt,” I grumbled. 

“I hope you’re not wearing that to my party,” Felix said, casting a critical eye over my outfit. 

I reached down to adjust the waistband of my skirt. “What’s wrong with it?”

“This is a classy party, Y/N, and you look like a hooker.”

“Go help your brother or something,” I said, doing my best to be nice since it was Felix’s birthday. I could manage some form of kindness even if he didn’t deserve it.

“Chan’s fine,” Felix waved me off even though I was certain I saw Chan struggling to hang up lights on the balcony just moments ago when I went to change my clothes.

I glanced at the clock above the stove. “Your fellow party animals will be here soon.”

“You’re not cool enough for those references,” Felix told me as he straightened his tie. 

“I wasn’t trying to be,” I said, wiping my forehead with a nearby towel. My makeup was probably smeared but I didn’t care. Who was I hoping to impress anyway? The only person I dressed up for was Chan and he could care less about my appearance.

And it was only a few minutes later when the doorbell started to ring. I took a deep breath to try and reassure myself that I could make it through tonight without another Advil. “Someone’s here!” Felix squeaked, knocking his shoulder against mine in his haste to answer the door.

“No matter who it is, I’ll still be in hell,” I muttered, closing my eyes when I recognized Hyunjin’s voice mixing with Felix’s.

“Y/N!” Hyunjin sang, poking his head in the kitchen as if he owned the place. “There you are! Looking all pretty for us.”

“That was the goal,” I half-heartedly quipped back, turning off the stove once I declared Felix’s stupid Tteok-bokki cooked enough.

“Your legs look good,” Hyunjin said, abruptly leaning in closer. “Are you even wearing anything under that skirt?”

“Hyunjin!” Felix shouted his friend’s name from the living room. “Come check out the decorations.”

Hyujin blew a kiss in my direction, tossing me a poor excuse for a wink. “Bye, Y/N!”

Maybe one more Advil wouldn’t hurt.

The party was in full swing by the time Minho finally arrived, greeting Felix with some kind of cheesy handshake. It was too late for me and I had already resigned myself to the futon of isolation in the living room, mourning the loss of one of my good dishes thanks to Han Jisung deciding to request something fancier than our regular set. “Sorry, Y/N,” Jisung had apologized. “I’m sure you can easily replace it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure my dead grandmother has another lying around somewhere,” I snarled in his direction, ignoring his wide-eyed look of disbelief as I searched for the broom.

Minho eventually finished his conversation with Felix, offering me a sympathetic look while occupying the last remaining chair. “Y/N?”

“Oh, I’m doing just fine,” I told him.

“You look miserable,” Minho informed me, throwing up his feet on my glass coffee table even though I had told him countless times before to keep his dirty socks on the floor.

“Chan hates me,” I said. “Felix is happy.”

“Ah,” Minho nodded. “Trouble in paradise?”

“It’s all Felix’s fault,” I sniped. “He found out I went to lunch with Changbin and told Chan because he knew it would lead to an argument.”

“He still doesn’t like you?” Minho snorted as if the idea were amusing.

“Felix has hated me since the beginning of time. He was brought to this Earth to cause me misery.”

“I’m sure that’s an exaggeration,” Minho said. “Where is Chan, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” I sighed. “If he wasn’t with Felix, then you might want to check the balcony. I think I saw him sneaking the Advil bottle out there earlier.”

Minho snickered. “You don’t even realize it, but you two are grossly similar. I’m sure Chan would have preferred a quiet dinner out somewhere.”

“Well, Felix always gets what he wants,” I said. “It’s been this way since high school.”

Minho considered me for a moment. “In his defense, Chan has always been Felix’s best friend. They’ve been attached at the hip since they were kids, but then you came into the picture. Suddenly, Chan isn’t as interested in spending all his time with Felix any more.”

“Are you saying I need to find Felix a girlfriend?”

“Y/N,” Minho said softly. “I’m just saying, maybe you need to think about things from Felix’s perspective for once. You were an only child, so you can’t understand what it means to share a close relationship with a brother.”

“Hmm, well you’re like a brother to me,” I teased him.

“Ugh,” Minho gagged. “You’ve had my dick in your mouth before, Y/N, please never say that again.”

“I was trying to be sweet,” I said. “But you ruined it.”

“Did I?” Minho smirked, glancing up at something behind me. “Are you having a good time, Felix?”

“We’re out of beer,” Felix interrupted, face suddenly mere inches from mine. 

“You shouldn’t drink like a fish.”

“Medusa,” Felix tried again, holding out a ring of car keys. “Make yourself useful and buy us some more beer.”

I rolled my eyes but acquiesced. “Whatever you want, your majesty.”

I hated winter in New York City because the sidewalks were icy all the time and I was constantly in danger of rolling my ankle. Nevertheless, I tolerated the snow and wind by trading my heels for rain boots and wrapping my body in the thickest coat I owned. Normally, I might consider walking to the convenience store, but tonight I knew my fingers would be nothing but frozen icicles if I attempted that perilous journey.

Thankfully, the traffic was fairly light this late at night which allowed a relatively quick drive to the store, parking my corvette at the sidewalk. I walked inside with a muffled greeting to the store attendant, searching down the aisle to where the beer was stocked in the freezers. “He didn’t even tell me what he wanted,” I scoffed, deciding on the expensive Corona from the bottom shelf since Felix always liked things more when they cost a lot of money.

“Having a party?” the store attendant joked, accepting my debit card after ringing up the cases. 

“Something like that,” I said, wondering if that was always his assumption if someone bought more than one bottle of the nasty smelling beverage.

Meanwhile, it had started snowing again when I walked back outside, popping the trunk to store the beer until I finally returned home. I switched on the ignition and turned on the heat to its fullest setting before sitting back in my seat to wrap my arms around myself, fighting off a series of chills. The action reminded me of Junior Year when Chan and I used to make late-night trips to the gas station near his apartment complex. We’d buy all sorts of unnecessary snacks, driving back together because we had planned a movie marathon of Harry Potter. Chan always complained about the films I liked, but he watched them anyway because he knew I enjoyed them.

I came to a stop at a red light, frowning when I noticed that nobody was coming in either direction. “Change already,” I ordered the traffic light as if it could possibly accommodate my request. 

“I’ll teach you patience, Y/N,” Chan once told me after we waited nearly an hour in a heavy downpour outside the comic book shop because he just had to have some kind of rare edition figurine.

The traffic light eventually turned green and I rolled out into the intersection, never noticing the reckless SUV until mere seconds before it crashed into the side of my car.

I had the worst luck in the world when it came to relationships. First, there was my tired rendezvous with Minho in high school, blowing my best friend in the bathroom because he’d always fuck me with his fingers afterward. Then, there was that slimy bastard Seo Changbin who I willingly gave my virginity to, thinking he was the love of my life. That was before I found out he was cheating on me with some sleazy cheerleader thanks to a couple of photos surfacing on Facebook. My heart was instantly broken, pride in shambles as I spent an entire week hiding out in my dormitory ignoring all phone calls and text messages as I cried over a boy who never deserved my attention in the first place.

I plucked a few strands of grass from the ground next to my feet, savoring the first taste of sunlight I had allowed myself since that unfortunate discovery. Who the hell did Seo Changbin think he was anyway? Playing with my heart like that as if it meant absolutely nothing to him. 

At least I wasn’t sad anymore, having spent enough time crying over the destructive boy. Now, all I could think about was smacking that stupid smug grin off his face while thoroughly purging my built-up frustrations...“Y/N?”

I turned around quickly at the sound of Chan’s voice, rising to my feet to brush the loose grass and dirt from my jeans. “Channie,” I said, nervously wringing my hands in front of me. Chan was probably mad at me since I had been ignoring him all week.

“Are you okay?” he asked instead, tone surprisingly gentle as he stopped in front of me.

“Not really,” I told him honestly.

“I didn’t think so,” Chan said, features hardening. “I’ll beat the shit out of Seo for you.”

I shook my head. “That won’t do any good.”

“But if it makes you feel better,” Chan said, reaching out to delicately swipe his thumb under my eyes. “You aren’t sleeping.”

It was more of a statement rather than a question, but I still felt the need to reassure him. “I promise that I’m okay.”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” Chan said, offering me a kind smile. “I can tell, you know?”

“Yeah you’re good at that,” I groused. 

“I’m pretty good at a lot of things when it comes to you,” Chan admitted, eyes holding a pure kind of affection as they appraised me.

“I’m glad I have you,” I said, letting out a sigh as I allowed my head to rest against the center of his chest. “You don’t think I’m stupid for trying things out with Changbin?”

“You’ve always liked him,” Chan said with a bitter tone that sounded more like a jealous lover rather than a friend.

I chose not to say anything. “I hope the two of them make each other miserable.”

Chan chuckled. “Is this your form of revenge?”

“I don’t think it’ll work out in my favor,” I said, pressing myself even closer to Chan, pausing when my hand drug across his stomach. “Holy shit, Channie, you weren’t kidding about the gym.”

“Did you not believe me?”

“Who are you trying to impress?” I grinned, propping my chin against his sternum to make it easier to look into his eyes.

“It’s always been the same person,” Chan said vaguely, dimples on display as he considered me. “I hope Seo didn’t destroy your faith in relationships.”

“It wouldn’t be entirely his fault,” I sighed. “All my relationships have been complete failures.

“Y/N,” Chan whispered, brushing a light kiss across my forehead. “Maybe it’s because you’ve never tried the right guy.”

The memory was laced with something warm, an association that stood in stark contradiction to my current condition, slowly opening my eyes to a pulsing room, somehow much too bright for my pupils to adjust. Was I alive? I wondered because I couldn’t really feel anything which was certainly disarming. But then there was a familiar smell, rancid and burning, and it made me feel like I was definitely not in any sort of happy afterlife. There was also the problem of the blurry figure slowly coming into focus next to me, fiddling with an array of wires twisting together with the sounds of a machine distantly clicking in the background. I watched through hooded eyes as the now perceivable person in question handled an impressively large needle, pinching my skin painfully at the juncture of my elbow. 

“Han Jisung,” I began, startling him from where he was checking the IV. “Just put a fucking needle into my arm. What hellish realm have I descended into?”

“Y/N!” Jisung squealed loudly, leaning down to press a sloppy kiss against my forehead. 

“What the hell was that for?”

“For not dying,” Jisung sighed in relief. “When you came in, there was nothing but blood and glass everywhere!... Oh, and Chan may or may not have a fine against him for beating the living shit out of the asshole that hit you.”

“Why are you so loud?” I groaned, palming my forehead because the room was still swimming into focus. “What happened?”

“You probably don’t remember,” Jisung said. “It was a pretty bad concussion, but you were in a car accident.”

“I was?” I questioned, struggling to recall anything past a few minutes ago when I first realized that incompetent Han Jisung was sticking pointy objects into my veins.

“Chan was so upset,” Jisung said. “He wanted to do the surgery, but the superintendent wouldn’t let him.”

“Surgery?” I repeated. “I had surgery?”

“Cuz’ of your ribs,” Jisung said quietly as if finally realizing that he probably shouldn’t be saying all this to me at once, especially if the persistent beeping of the heart monitor was something to be concerned about.

“What’s wrong with my ribs?” I asked, somewhat panicking as I felt down my chest, noticing the thick bandage wrapped around my upper body. 

“Chill, Y/N,” Jisung placated, reaching around me to adjust the monitor. “Now I can’t get an accurate reading!”

“So sorry to inconvenience you,” I said with a hoarse voice, reaching up to quickly wrap my hand around my throat. “Is there something wrong with my voice?”

“Well, you’ve been out for three days so...”

“Three days!”

Now I was definitely panicking, full-on hysteria as the heart monitor loudly detected the irregular contraction of the muscle thundering aggressively against my chest. It was enough to alert the doctor on duty, walking into my room to check on his patient, scolding Jisung harshly as he filled a syringe with a clear liquid. “Don’t worry, Y/N,” he said kindly, injecting the fluid into my IV. “Just relax.”

My eyelids fluttered closed, overwhelmed by a disjointed sense of calm that gradually pulled me back under the current of drug-induced bliss.

“Sweetie.”

My eyes flew open at the sound of his voice, the best wake-up call in the whole world. I slowly turned my head to the side, taking in the sight of my disheveled husband, eyes blood-shot with heavy dark bags haunting tight circles against his pale skin. “Channie?”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Chan sniffled, fresh tears swelling his cheeks as he leaned in closer to grip tightly to my hand. “It’s all my fault.”

I considered him closely, wondering what he could possibly mean by accepting blame for whatever was causing him obvious pain. I faintly remember Jisung telling me about am accident, but it was difficult to really think back any further, like a wall had enclosed around my brain, refusing to allow anything else to come into consciousness. But Chan didn’t need to cry, he was usually the best part of my life, waking up in bed together to share sweet kisses or eagerly waiting for him to come home and swoon over my newest K-Drama obsession. “Why are you sad?” I asked him, reaching out to do my best and wipe away those nasty tears.

“You wouldn’t answer your phone,” Chan cried, heart-wrenching sobs that broke my heart with every heavy inhale. “I didn’t know where you were.”

“Is that why you’re upset?” I asked, wiping away a few mischievous curls that had wandered into his eyes. 

“I found you in the intersection,” Chan whispered. “And the car...” he trailed off with a choking gasp as if the details were too horrific to describe. 

“I’m here now, Channie,” I said, desperate to relieve his sadness. “I didn’t go anywhere.”

Chan nodded furiously, pressing a wet kiss to the back of my hand. “I can’t lose you like that, sweetie.”

“Well, I plan to stick around for a while,” I said, earning me a half-smile in return. “Channie,” I whispered, glancing around the room conspiratorially. “Is there anything good to eat in this place?”

This time Chan did laugh and it was the best medicine I could possibly have.

“Vitals?” Chan asked, lingering around the poor nurse who clearly wasn’t expecting this much attention over one patient when she clocked in this morning.

“I already checked them,” the nurse informed him, writing down something on the chart clipped to the edge of my bed. I sipped my water as I watched the two of them, wondering if Chan had been this overbearing the entire time.

“Temperature?”

“98 degrees.”

“Blood pressure?”

“122/75”

“Respiration?”

“Chan,” I whispered softly, immediately drawing my husband’s attention who was at my side in an instant. “I think the nurse knows how to do her job.”

The poor woman shot me a grateful smile as she re-clipped my chart, hurrying out of the room as if she couldn’t possibly escape fast enough. “Sorry,” Chan said, taking his seat next to me. “I’m just worried.”

“I get discharged tomorrow,” I told him. “Pretty sure that means I’m just fine.”

“But your leg,” Chan whined, fussily messing with the large cast, tucking the blankets in securely.

“It’ll heal,” I said, frowning as I picked at the squishy jello the nursing staff had brought in earlier. “Isn’t there anything else to eat?”

Chan tsked. “That’s good for you, Y/N. It’s full of necessary vitamins.”

I should have known better than to ask my doctor husband if I could possibly have something that actually had flavor to eat. No matter how much I begged and pleaded, Chan refused to waver from the nasty daily meals I was brought, much to my disappointment. “I’d kill for a burger.”

“Too much fat,” Chan said, turning down the idea before I could possibly try to negotiate.

“It physically hurts me to eat,” I tried. “I think they’re secretly plotting my death.”

“Y/N,” Chan scolded lightly. “There’s a reason why we serve this to patients, alright?”

I frowned at him but shoved a spoonful of the nasty substance in my mouth, earning me a pleased smile in response. “Happy?”

“You can have better food tomorrow,” Chan said, pausing as he reached down to check his phone notifications. “Minho is here,” he grumbled. “I guess I’ll go get him from the lobby before he gets lost.”

“Thank you, darling,” I chirped, accepting his brief kiss.

“I’ve seen worse,” Minho declared, ignoring Chan’s disbelieving scoff. 

“You obviously weren’t here when she was first brought in,” Chan growled to him.

“How are you feeling, Y/N?” Minho asked, disregarding Chan who had gone back to check the dozens of machines somehow monitoring my every possible bodily function.

“Hungry,” I grimaced, pointing to my discarded container.

Minho lifted it curiously, bringing it his nose before he let out an unattractive grunt. “Is this garbage?”

“Don’t encourage her,” Chan said, reaching for my chart for the millionth time that day. “I’ll be right back, Y/N.”

“Okay,” I said, rolling my eyes once his back was turned.

I waited until Chan was gone before desperately reaching out for Minho. “You’ve got to help me, Minho! I can’t stand another day of jello and mashed potatoes. Get me a Big Mac and I’ll give you the number of one of my work acquaintances.”

 Minho raised an interested brow. “Scale?”

“Oh, she’s definitely an 8...please!”

“That’s impossible to turn down, Y/N,” Minho grinned. “Give me ten minutes.”

I snatched his sleeve before he could walk away. “Make sure Chan doesn’t see.”

“So ask Han Jisung to fuck something up, got it.”

“You’re my best friend in the entire world. The rest of my life will be spent in your servitude.”

Minho offered me a brief salute and I solemnly nodded my head while ignoring the way my stomach growled.

It was growing dark outside and I’m pretty sure Jisung had accidentally given me too much of whatever pain medicine I had been prescribed. I could barely keep my eyes open as Chan settled next to me on his chair. “Y/N,” he said softly, picking at an invisible string on his suit pants. “I want to talk to you about the fight we had.”

My exhaustion vanished in a flash. “Okay,” I said, even though I had been hoping Chan would just forget that the fight even happened.

“I owe you an apology,” Chan said. “For acting like a jealous prick. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

“It’s my fault too,” I said. “I know how you feel about him, but I still went out anyway.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Chan said, swallowing down the lie even though I could always read him like a book. “But every time I think about Seo Changbin, I can’t help but remember Freshman year.”

“You act like he broke your heart instead,” I tried to joke, but Chan was everything but amused.

“Yeah, he did break your heart, Y/N, and I’ll never forgive him for it. He was an arrogant bastard back then, and I’m sure that hasn’t changed much.”

“Not really,” I agreed, recalling our prior lunch arrangement.

“And I’ll never be okay with the fact that you work with your ex-boyfriend, but since you love the job so much, I can’t possibly fight with you anymore,” Chan said. “I should trust you as my wife.”

“I’m not remotely interested in Changbin,” I said. “It just sucks that he’s got good connections.”

“But if he tries anything on you...”

“Don’t worry,” I reassured him. “I would never do anything to hurt you, even if his thighs look super good these days.”

“Y/N.”

“I know, Channie,” I giggled, reaching for his hand. “Trust me, alright? I don’t plan to work there forever. Fingers crossed for a promotion to the publisher.”

“I’ll pray every night if I have to,” Chan said. “As for Felix...”

“Don’t worry about him,” I said. “I know that I should try harder to get along with Felix.”

“It’s a two-way street,” Chan countered. “I’ve spoken to him about everything.”

“You have?” I wavered. “What did he say?”

“Well, he feels really bad about the accident,” Chan said. “I think he realizes how much better things would be if you guys were on friendlier terms.”

“He really looks up to you,” I said, recalling Minho’s words from before. “I hope he doesn’t feel like I’m trying to steal you away.”

“Felix and I have always been close,” Chan said. “We both had a hard time moving here from Australia. But at the end of the day, we could rely on each other..”

“High school wasn’t very good to either of you,” I said.

“Well, except for you of course,” Chan said, attempting a smile. 

“They were mean to you, Channie,” I said, “and you didn’t deserve any of it.”

“I’ve gotten over that,” Chan insisted. “But Felix always took everything harder than me. He wasn’t very social until college.”

“He should have stuck to being an introvert,” I said. “Look at the kind of friends he ended up with.”

“Are you saying Hyunjin is a bad influence?”

“Have you been around for our interactions?

“I’ve definitely noticed, Y/N. Remember what happened that one time when we went camping-”

“Anyways,” I loudly interrupted. “It seems like we both have a lot of things to work on.”

“But that’s why we talk about it,” Chan said, pressing a soothing kiss to the wrinkled crease of my forehead. “That’s what married couples do, right?”

“Ah, Channie, when did you become a walking cliche?”

“Should I be more serious, then?”

“You’re getting there with the doctor’s jacket.”

“Really?” Chan asked, sitting back in his chair. “Is this your way of asking us to try some kind of kinky roleplay?”

“I don’t know, but it might be interesting. Can I call you Dr. Bang?”

Chan was positively beaming. “You can always call me Daddy instead.”

“Darling, I think they accidentally gave you my prescription of morphine.”

If anyone were to ever ask me, then I’d tell them that signing hospital discharge papers was about as difficult as applying for a loan. “How many more are there?” I wondered, scribbling a messy signature at the bottom of the last sheet Jisung had brought for me to sign.

“I think that’s it.”

“You think?” I snorted, watching Jisung sort through each page carefully like he really had no idea what he was holding.

“Each year they add more shit for the patients,” Jisung explained. “I’m pretty sure they do it just to confuse me.”

“Everything confuses you, Jisung,” I said, patting his arm sympathetically. “Has Chan come in yet?”

“He’s on his way with Felix.”

“Goodie,” I grumbled. “Are you working late today?”

“Someone has to help since Chan insists on taking the day off,” Jisung said.

“I hope they aren’t planning on letting you do the surgeries.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

I kept my mouth shut, deciding to let Jisung live in his deluded fantasy world where he could somehow manage to cure patients of their ailments as opposed to causing them. Unsurprisingly, since the moment I had first met him, Jisung had always been completely sure of himself even if he was whole-heartedly wrong. For example, when we were all seniors in college, Chan refused to speak to Jisung for an entire week after the two of them received an F on their group project. Apparently, Jisung forgot to submit the lab report on time and waited an additional week before approaching the professor to politely ask if he could still bring it to her after class.

“Channie,” I tried to console him. “You know Jisung didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Yeah, but my GPA will still suffer the consequences,” Chan had sulked, whining about how difficult it was to maintain a friendship with Han Jisung.

Yet, when Chan was first hired by the hospital, Chan sent in a very persuasive reference for Jisung, encouraging the higher-ups to offer him a nursing position. The three of us went out to celebrate Jisung’s new job offer, nursing shots of bad vodka while eating rather terrible sushi. “Chan,” a very tipsy Jisung had said. “I love you so much, man.”

“Oi, keep your hands to yourself,” Chan had grouched despite wearing the biggest grin on his face...

“Y/N,” Jisung interrupted my recollection. “I think Chan just got here.”

“Finally,” I sighed. “I thought I would never be able to get the smell of alcohol out of my nose.”

“Thank God you’re here,” I said the moment Chan and Felix walked into my hospital room. “I’m pretty sure I had to sign my life away to leave this place, but it’s totally worth it.”

Chan rolled his eyes playfully. “I see you’re feeling better this morning.”

“I’ve been better for days,” I said. “But my doctor wouldn’t allow me to so much as breathe the wrong way.”

“Is that so?” Chan asked, reaching down for my discarded bag. “Your doctor sounds like a real asshole.”

“Yeah, but he’s pretty hot. I’d totally fuck him if I wasn’t already married.”

“It sounds like you have a thing for doctors?” Chan asked. “Does this husband of yours know that?”

“He probably does,” I said. “But I feel like he’ll probably leave me to masturbate on my own for months because of this dumb cast.”

“Y/N,” Chan scoffed. “It’s important for you to heal properly.”

I groaned loudly. “Why are you so responsible?”

Chan carefully handed me my bag. “Make sure you have everything. I’m going to talk to your surgeon one more time before we leave.”

It was difficult to prevent myself from protesting, finally realizing just how quiet it was with just me and Felix in the room. “Hi, Felix,” I said, awkwardly adjusting my blankets once Chan had disappeared from sight.

“Y/N,” Felix said, gaze focused on some unidentifiable point on the floor.

“What have you been up to?” I asked, trying to sound cheery because I didn’t like the look of despondence on Felix’s normally bright visage.

“I owe you an apology, Y/N,” Felix said with a vulnerable tone I had never heard from him before. “It’s because of me that you got hurt.”

“Felix,” I hesitated because this was uncharted territory for the both of us, a distant cry from our usual taunting banter. “You don’t need to do that. Everything’s fine now.”

“Your leg,” Felix whispered as an unexpected tear slid down the side of his face.

“It’s just a fracture,” I shrugged. “I’ll be just fine in a few months.”

“Just a fracture,” Felix parroted back, voice thick with emotion. “Why aren’t you mad at me? Because you should be. I’m always getting in your way.”

“Is that what you think?” I asked, surprised to hear Felix’s true feelings. “Felix, you aren’t in anybody’s way. You know I don’t really care that you’re staying with us, especially after you just graduated. I just wish you’d be a little bit more respectful.”

“Because I’ve always been jealous of you, Y/N,” Felix said. “Especially since Chan likes you more than me.”

“Felix, you know that Chan loves you. He would do anything in the world to make you happy.”

“He’s always chosen you over me,” Felix said. “He stopped hanging out with me on weekends in high school, and he even went to the same college as you even though he was accepted into Harvard and Yale.”  

I was shocked by Felix’s true feelings, a rare moment of vulnerability that he was choosing to share with me. “Lixie,” I said. “Why have you never said anything before?”

Felix shivered at my use of his nickname. “I didn’t want to. You guys are so happy together and I didn’t want to hurt Chan.”

“Ya! Felix,” I frowned, “your feelings matter too. And if you really feel that way, then we need to talk about it together.”

“I’m just a burden,” Felix gruffed.

“No, you aren’t,” I insisted. “You’re part of our family, and if you’re ever feeling uncomfortable, then you deserve to be heard.”

“You don’t really mean that do you, Y/N?” Felix asked with glistening eyes. “I don’t want you to say these things just to make me feel better.”

“Felix, when have you ever seen me lying to someone just to protect their feelings?” I asked. “I always speak my mind, and this time I’m putting my foot down. When we get home, we’re having a movie marathon, just the three of us. And this weekend, you and Chan can go somewhere together out of town. I’ll have Minho stay with me instead.”

“Really?” Felix asked, swiping a sleeve under his bright red nose. 

“We’re in-laws you know,” I said. “That means we look out for one another.”

“Y/N,” Felix giggled and, for once, I didn’t feel the slightest bit annoyed. 

“Lee Felix, don’t you ever let me catch you crying like this again, understand?”

Felix nodded, smiling so brilliantly that I was reminded of when we were much younger and he was just an innocent little boy who idolized his older brother.

“Careful,” Chan said, holding the door wide with one hand while keeping a firm grip around my waist. 

“I’m not gonna break,” I grumbled, pausing in the doorway as I let out a grateful sigh. It was a huge relief to be back at home and not stuck in that hospital room surrounded by questionable smells. 

Chan carefully led me into the living room and I gave him my crutches before collapsing on the futon, ignoring the rigid fabric because I had never been happier to hug one of the matching throw pillows. “Comfortable?” Chan asked, helping me prop my leg up on the coffee table. Meanwhile, Felix lingered in the doorway, grasping my bag tightly between his hands.

“Come join us, Felix,” I said. “You’ll let out all the heat.”

Felix nodded, eyes wide as he locked the door behind him. Chan sent me a curious look as if he wasn’t sure what I was hoping to accomplish by inviting his younger brother into the same room. “I have something for you.”

I clapped my hands together eagerly. “Is it something loaded with carbohydrates and fat?”

“Not quite,” he said, handing me my cell phone. “Seo Enterprises called earlier today. I already contacted them about the accident, but I guess they need to hear from you.”

“Great,” I grimaced, dialing the number from memory. It rang for a few moments, and Chan and Felix were both messing around with the TV, probably trying to figure out what to watch. Because the only thing the two brothers argued about was whether action movies were better than romance.

“Seo Enterprises, this is Eliza speaking how can I help you today?”

“Hi,” I immediately cringed, wondering how many cool points I could possibly lose in one day. “This is Y/N, can I speak to Mr. Seo please?”

“I can transfer you right away,” Eliza spoke promptly as if she had already been prepared to receive my call.

“Y/N!” Changbin’s voice now answered. “I’m glad to hear from you.”

“Yeah, I’ve been having a lot of bad luck recently,” I said. “I guess you know about the accident.”

“I heard,” Changbin said. “How are you?”

“I’m alright,” I said. “But I might need some time away from the company. Apparently, a broken leg is a pretty big deal.”

“Take as much time as you need, Y/N,” Changbin said. “I’ve hired a temporary secretary until you’re ready to come back.”

“I don’t know, Changbin,” I said. “It might take several weeks. Maybe you should just hire a replacement.”

“There’s no need for that, Y/N,” Changbin countered. “I still believe you’re the best person for the job.”

“Well, if you’re sure...” I trailed off, shaking my head furiously at Chan when he held up our used copy of The Notebook.

“I’m definitely sure,” Changbin said. “Call me when you want to come back. We still have a lot of things I want to do together in the future.”

“You’re too indecisive,” Chan said, finally taking a well-deserved seat next to me on the futon. 

“And you have terrible taste in cinema,” Felix retorted.

“Yeah? Well maybe we should just let Y/N pick,” Chan suggested, mouthing a sweet kiss against my temple.

“I think Felix should decide,” I said, cuddling up closer to Chan’s side. 

“Really?” Felix asked, appearing entirely surprised that I would allow him such freedom.

“Why not?” I sighed happily. “I’ll even watch that weird anime movie if you want.”

Felix scoffed but a faint smile remained as he grabbed the remote. Chan chuckled and leaned down to press another kiss to the top of my forehead. “I’m proud of you, sweetie,” he whispered.

“It’s only because I love you so much,” I said while shrugging indifferently, but Chan could always read through me.

“Hmm, well I love you more,” he said, brushing his fingers through my hair as the opening credits rolled across the screen.

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #bang chan #chan #chan fanfic #bang chan fanfic #chris bang #chan smut #bang chan smut

[moonknightly]

Mistakes and Sour Grapes : Modern!Poe Dameron x Reader (One)

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Excerpt: “You were totally fucking staring, and he totally fucking caught you, and wait, maybe he was staring back and had his cheeks been pink the whole time?”

Warnings: Alcohol, some cursing, future parts are gonna be slutty. 

I am extremelyyyyy unsure about this so if it’s a thing you guys are into, please, please let me know. 

[SERIES MASTERLIST]

Bars weren’t really your thing.

Especially in a city that was typically known to be overrun with tourists at any given time of year.

They were crowded and loud, and you usually weren’t the biggest fan of the style of music blaring through nearly shot speakers, and you definitely weren’t a fan of the headache you’d often suffer with afterwards from the absurd amount of bass they deemed necessary. They smelled bad, they were dark and dingy and gross, and many patrons were less than respectful and showed little regard after knocking back a few drinks.

It really wasn’t your thing.

But you had a friend who worked as a bartender at a small brewery and local restaurant, and that was definitely more your speed, and honestly the only time you did end up sitting at a bar. Most Friday and Saturday nights, you found yourself practically drooling over a plate of delicious food and, depending on your mood, either a beer or a cocktail while making smalltalk with Finn as he worked. And most of the time, you’d end up the last customer in the building, staying late to help Finn put away glasses or wipe down the counter, partially so he could get out of there faster, but mainly because you just enjoyed spending your time there.

It was one of those nights now, where you were behind the bar, a rag in your hand as you wiped water droplets from still warm tumblers while Finn worked on the wine glasses.

“I’m telling you,” Finn said from behind you. “You’d make more money bartending here.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes playfully as you peeked over your shoulder towards him.

“I have a job,” you reminded him for the hundredth time in the last ten days. Ever since another bartender had put in their two weeks, he had been trying to convince you to put in an application.

“Yeah, a shitty one. Come on, I could move out to the beer garden, you could take over in here. It would be absolutely perfect.”

You laughed, shaking your head almost teasingly. “Perfect for your schedule maybe.”

“And for yours! Look, you hate waking up early. If you worked here, you could sleep in until noon if you wanted. And we’d be coworkers. What more could you ask for in a job?”

You rolled your eyes again, turning back to the look at the tumbler in your hand, falling back into a comfortable silence.

One that didn’t last long by any means, for Finn was apparently damned and determined.

“I mean technically, you’re already working. Might as well get paid to do it.”

“Putting away glasses is hardly working.”

“You’d get tips nightly instead of having to wait every other week for a paycheck. And did I mention you’d make more?”

“Might make more, but it’s not consistent.”

“You like the vibe up here. You like the building.”

Now there was a point that you would actually consider.

You did like the vibe.

It was laid back, relaxed while still being a more refined atmosphere. Most people who sat at the bar were corporate workers or couples, just looking to have a drink and a good meal after a long day, and the other restaurant goers were typically families.

The building itself was just a year away from turning two hundred years old, and the history behind it intrigued you to no end, including the fact that it was said to be the most haunted building in the city. That was something you were entirely into.

You hesitated, tilting your head to the side and gnawing on your bottom lip.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe.”

His response came in the form of a bar towel snapping through the air and hitting the back of your thigh, and you yelped before dissolving into a fit of laughter, thankfully having just set the last tumbler in its place. You were pretty sure you would have dropped it had it still been in your hands.

Finn hung the last wine glass just after — his last task for the night, and you were ready to make your escape, but before you could even push back from the counter he was reaching around you for two of the tumblers you had just put away.

“Okay, we’ve gotta take a shot to celebrate, and we’re makin’ it a double.”

You laughed again, the sound completely exasperated yet so amused at the same time. “Finn, I didn’t say yes. And even if I put in an application, I’m not guaranteed to get it.”

“Oh you’re gettin’ it alright,” he snorted, shaking his head. “I’ll beg if I have to. Now what are we having?”

“You’re still on the clock.”

He narrowed his eyes playfully, whipping his head around dramatically, quite literally spinning in place, arms open wide as he gestured to the empty restaurant. “And who the hell is going to care? I’ll just put it on your tab.”

A third laugh, and a reason Finn was your best friend. He could always make you fucking laugh. You raised your hands in mock surrender.

“Now what are we having?” he repeated his prior question, quirking an eyebrow.

You thought about it for a moment, drumming your fingers along the countertop, lips pursed. “Chocolate cake shots.”

“Excuse me, what?”

“What kind of bartender are you?”

“A shitty one apparently,” he scoffed, his eyebrow raising just a fraction higher. “Now explain.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s one part vodka, one part Frangelico, and-”

“-and a sugared lemon on a sugared rim.”

You jumped, and Finn nearly dropped the glasses as a new voice echoed throughout the room, but you watched as he quickly relaxed, a look of recognition crossing over his face.

He turned slowly, the action conveying mock annoyance, and you peeked around him, glancing towards where the voice had come from.

A man with short salt and pepper curls and tanned skin was walking down the staircase, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans and a smug smirk tugging at his lips. A noise caught in your throat, one you wouldn’t have even been able to begin to describe, and Finn managed to catch it, glancing back towards you for just a brief second before turning his attention back to the man approaching.

The undeniably handsome, gorgeous, breathtaking man in an olive green hoodie with the sleeves pushed up mid-forearm, a good two day’s worth of stubble covering his jaw. A small scar on his cheek. Big brown eyes.

Were you staring? Fuck, you were totally staring.

You were totally fucking staring, and he totally fucking caught you, and wait, maybe he was staring back and had his cheeks been pink the whole time?

“Of course you’re still here. Do you ever leave or did you convert one of the rooms upstairs into an apartment?”

“There’s an idea,” the man chuckled, tearing his gaze away from you, and you felt a small amount of air flood back into your lungs.

You were still staring though, blatantly so, and you couldn’t even find the shame to stop yourself. You watched as his eyes fluttered back over to you, quickly, for a mere second before he eyed the tumblers in Finn’s hand, quirking an eyebrow.

“She wanted to buy me a drink and it would’ve been rude to turn a customer down,” Finn deadpanned, and you couldn’t help but snort.

The man shrugged, leaning against the counter opposite of you. “Make it three.”

“Yes sir.”

Finn grabbed a third glass after setting the first two down, not taking his eyes off of what he was doing as he nodded towards you, saying your name.

“This is Poe Dameron, the owner. Dameron, you are now in the presence of my best friend in the entire galaxy.”

He repeated your name, and Poe smiled, pushing off the counter and extending a hand out to you.

“S’nice to meet you.”

You nodded, your cheeks suddenly feeling a touch warmer than they had been before as you took his hand in yours, shaking it firmly. “You too.”

He smiled again, nodding his head, holding onto you for just a second longer than what would be considered customary before letting go. He stayed next to you though, folding his arms across his chest as he glanced towards Finn again.

“Now, why are we taking shots?”

“Because she’s,” Finn said, pointing a finger towards you, “applying for the open bartender position.”

Poe raised an eyebrow, turning his attention towards you. “Is that right?”

Your blush only intensified as you noticed those big brown eyes of his flutter quickly over your body, just once, for just a split second. You nodded.

“Have you ever bartended before?”

“Not really,” you admitted, just a hint of a nervous edge in your voice.

Poe shrugged. “Fast learner?”

You nodded again, and Finn spoke before you had a chance to.

“And she apparently already knows more than I freakin’ do. Chocolate cake shots, what the hell?”

“Trust me,” you said, a small chuckle following.

Poe smirked again. “It tastes exactly how it sounds.”

Finn shook his head, adding the sugared lemons to the finished drinks before passing them out.

“You gotta hold the lemon juice in your mouth while you take the shot though,” you added, already taking the wedge off the rim.

Poe nodded, following your actions. “If you don’t, you’ll ruin it.”

You and Poe took your shots first, Finn watching before throwing back his own, his eyes widening in surprise as the liquid ran down his throat.

“Holy shit, you weren’t lying.”

“Have I ever led you wrong?” you laughed, wiping at a stray drop of vodka and Frangelico that ran down your chin.

You could feel Poe staring at you as you did so, and you chose to ignore it, and this time, you attributed the blush on your cheeks to the alcohol slowly moving through your veins.

You reached for Poe’s glass, grabbing Finn’s as well before moving to clean them, just as an excuse to put a little distance between you and Poe. You heard the two of them quietly talking, about what, you didn’t know, couldn’t hear over the running water, and only when the glasses were clean and back in their place did you tune back in.

“Where’s Bee?”

Poe shrugged. “She’s around here somewhere.”

“Who’s Bee?” you asked, tilting your head to the side, looking between the two men in front of you.

“His lady,” Finn chuckled, his answer earning him a sharp jab to the ribs and a small snort from Poe.

Oh, so he was taken?

Figures. A man so beautiful certainly had a woman just as gorgeous on his arm.

Before you had a chance to say anything further, Poe whistled, the sound loud and echoing off the walls, and you jumped for the second time that night. Just ten seconds later, the clattering of nails across hardwood could be heard throughout the restaurant, and a big, white German Shepherd came bounding around the corner of the bar, practically jumping into her owner’s arms.

“Oh hello there sweet girl, were you taking a nap downstairs again?” Poe cooed, scratching the large dog behind her ears.

Bee whined affectionately, her tail wagging erratically. You flushed, laughing at yourself just a little bit for how your mood had taken a hit at the idea of him being taken. You had known him for less than ten minutes.

You watched the two interact for a few seconds, your arms folded loosely over your chest.

“You can pet her if you’d like.”

“Oh how could I ever turn down such an offer?”

You immediately knelt onto the ground, ready and eager to be attacked by the big floof of white fur, but Bee didn’t turn her attention away from her owner, causing you to over exaggerate a pout and Poe to laugh.

“Bee, you’re not working right now sweetheart.”

You looked up at him, tilting your head to the side just a fraction. “Working?”

“Service dog,” Poe shrugged, a mannerism you were quickly learning was signature. “Even when she’s not wearing her vest she likes to think she’s on call.”

You stayed quiet for a couple of seconds, knowing not to pry but also not knowing exactly how to respond.

“She seems to be good at her job,” you settled on finally.

Poe chuckled quietly, nodding his head, not offering up an explanation himself, but that was to be expected. You were still mere strangers.

“Go say hi.”

Bee nuzzled her nose into Poe’s chest before dropping back down onto all fours, finally turning her attention to you. She ignored your outstretched hand, immediately going for your face, licking your cheek and pawing at your thighs. You giggled, stroking the dog down her back, scratching every now and again.

“I think I might steal her,” you teased, wiggling your eyebrows as you glanced up.

Poe only laughed, and you spent several minutes merely petting and playing with Bee behind the bar, giving Poe the opportunity to sneak back upstairs and grab her vest — an orange one with the words “service dog” printed onto the side.

“What’s your schedule like next week?” he asked, giving a short whistle after that immediately made Bee pull away from you, sitting patiently as she waited for her owner to slip her vest on.

You shrugged. “I work in the mornings but otherwise I’m free.”

“Ew, mornings,” Poe mumbled, scrunching up his nose before shaking his head. “Think you can come by Monday night so Finn can start training you?”

Finn let out an excited yelp, and you could only blink.

“Wait, like, train as in...I have the job? Just like that?”

“If you don’t burn the place down Monday night and you enjoy yourself, then yeah,” Poe chuckled. “It’s yours.”

You bit your lip, and you wouldn’t have been able to hide your smile regardless of how hard you tried.

“I’m down, Dameron.”

He smiled right back, holding out his hand for you to shake while also simultaneously pulling you off the floor, and you would’ve crashed into your chest had you not braced yourself against the counter with your free hand.

“Welcome aboard.”

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #tros #star wars #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron imagine

[lachlanwrites]

Black market hormones: How red tape is forcing a trans generation to self-medicate

 HORMONE THERAPY: Treatment for trans people in the UK is woefully inadequate, forcing many to consider risky alternatives

Lachlan Mykura reports on the difficulties of treatment for transgender people, documenting his own experiences and the bureaucracy surrounding them.

Transgender issues have long been a source of controversy and debate. In recent years, these issues have come under the spotlight. Younger generations are more able to explore their gender, and the concept of a strict binary is being slowly replaced with a far more fluid and flexible umbrella.

Not everyone who is transgender will transition medically, but for those who do it can be an arduous process bogged down by bureaucracy. While it is important to note that those who choose not to transition, or have no desire to transition, are valid, this article will specifically focus on the people that do.

I am Lachlan Mykura, and I am FTM - female to male transgender. My transition has been marked by wait times, delays, gatekeeping and uncertainty, so I did what a growing number of transgender people are doing. I decided to start taking hormones without a prescription.

To understand why I, and many other trans people do this, we need to look at the system and its failures. There are currently seven NHS gender identity clinics (GIC’s) in the UK, with plans for three more in Manchester, London and Merseyside. In 2015 there were 1,408 referrals to these clinics. In 2020 there were 2,728. With only seven clinics for thousands of referrals, wait times for NHS GIC’s have skyrocketed, and many clinics no longer publish their times, estimated to be years. Indeed, many of them seem to have completely ground to a halt.

One such clinic, The Laurels in Exeter, has 2,592 people currently on its waiting list, and yet saw only 2 people in 2020. One patient has been on the list for nearly 6 years, 17 times the NHS legal guideline of 18 weeks.

Many GP’s are uneducated or unused to trans issues, and don’t know the proper procedures for referring patients on to a GIC. I found this myself when I was beginning to consider medical transition, with one GP outright telling me they didn’t know how to help me.

Nearly a year later I managed to get a referral, and my waiting game began.

These wait times add to an already time sensitive process. Transgender people under 18 cannot go to most GIC’s. Tavistock is currently the only GIC that will see underage patients, and even getting to this clinic before you become 18 is a struggle.

Although transition can be successful at any age, the younger you start medical transition, the better the results are likely to be, especially for male to female (MTF) patients. By the time you can start hormones on the NHS, you will likely have gone through puberty entirely, and will have the sex characteristics of your assigned gender at birth (AGAB).

The NHS is a clumsy beast when it comes to gender care, and with the rapidly rising number of referrals, it may fall even further behind.

The NHS is also not currently very supportive of non-binary people looking to transition. A diagnosis of gender dysphoria is necessary to start hormones, and while the NHS has become more accepting of non-binary identities in recent years, some non-binary people may struggle to meet the criteria.

If you don’t want to wait for NHS treatment then there is the option for private treatment. In the UK this comes in the form of two providers, Gendercare and GenderGP.

Gendercare is a private network of doctors, and is staffed by some of the most experienced gender specialists in the UK. Unfortunately, this means it also has a price tag to match. Each of the doctors working at Gendercare set their own prices, but most tend to be around £300 for an initial appointment, and then £150 for follow ups, which are necessary to start on hormones.

GenderGP is a cheaper alternative, although the quality of treatment they offer is arguably worse. They are a telemedicine service, working on a system of ‘informed consent’. This means that during their consultations, they will tell you about any possible risks and effects of the treatment, but the end choice to start hormones is down to you. They don’t require any formal diagnoses. On paper, this sounds like an excellent choice, and I originally decided to go with them, paying my £65 initial appointment fee and talking to one of their psychologists.

However, GenderGP is not the most reputable service. Doctors Helen and Mike Webberly, the couple who started the service, have both been struck off by the GMC for providing hormones and puberty blockers to those under 18. This gave me cause for concern, but having seen firsthand the politicization of trans treatments, especially for those under 18, I thought that this wasn’t enough for me to stop using their services. The nail in the coffin for GenderGP came in October 2020, when their pharmacy, ClearChemist, said that they would no longer be working with GenderGP. This put GenderGP’s ability to prescribe hormones in jeopardy. Even though their services were cheaper, faster and accessible online, I didn’t know if they could fulfil what they promised. I decided to switch to Gendercare instead.

“The NHS is a clumsy beast when it comes to gender”

TESTOGEL: One of the forms of hormone treatment available to FTM transgender people.

I contacted two of the doctors working for Gendercare, who I thought would have the shortest wait times. One of them said that he could not accept me as a patient, and the other said that he could offer me an initial appointment in January 2021. Progress.

This January appointment would be followed up by another appointment or two with one of Gendercare’s endocrinologists. I would have paid around £1000 without even being sure I could get a prescription. As a student, I had more important things to spend money on, like instant ramen and rent.

I was sitting with friends one evening and the topic came onto hormones. I was lamenting the trials and tribulations of transgender treatment in the UK when one of the friends I was with, another trans man, piped up “I could give you my spare bottle.”

 Bingo.

 I thought about the prospect for a while, I knew people who took testosterone without a prescription and their transitions were going well. However, I was really nervous about it, I had no way of knowing my hormone levels, I wouldn’t have a consistent supply and, well, it just wasn’t a very good idea.

I did it anyway.

A few weeks of soul searching later I realised that I had known I was trans since I was a young teenager. I had been sitting on these feelings, hoping they would ‘go away’ or second guessing myself as to whether or not I was ‘really trans. But they hadn’t. They had stuck like toilet paper on a shoe throughout my teenage years and into my twenties. My excuses of waiting until I was an adult had no weight, after all, I was an adult now. Years of waiting, doctors appointments, and questioning and now here I was, being offered hormones on a silver platter over a glass of wine. I had to take it.

I contacted two of the doctors working for Gendercare, who I thought would have the shortest wait times. One of them said that he could not accept me as a patient, and the other said that he could offer me an initial appointment in January 2021. Progress.

This January appointment would be followed up by another appointment or two with one of Gendercare’s endocrinologists. I would have paid around £1000 without even being sure I could get a prescription. As a student, I had more important things to spend this money on, like instant ramen and rent.

I had no way of knowing my hormone levels, I wouldn’t have a consistent supply and, well, it just wasn’t a very good idea. I did it anyway.

Gel is, in my opinion, the easiest and best way to take testosterone, the other popular one being injection. Gel is a daily application which means that your hormone levels don’t suffer from the same rises and falls that weekly injection causes. However, with these smaller doses comes slower changes, on average.

I wasn’t too worried about this, since I didn’t really want incredibly quick changes when I had no access to a specialist to help monitor my levels. Injections are also cheaper than gel, but I didn’t need to worry about that, after all, I was getting mine for free. Besides, even if I didn’t hate needles, I wasn’t about to go injecting myself with drugs unless a doctor had told me to.

In order for trans men to do their injections, they need to be shown how to by a nurse, generally at their first appointment. If done wrong, injecting testosterone can cause pain, swelling, and infection.

The gel I use is called Testogel. Testogel dosage is measured by pumps, the bottle is designed so that each pump will give the exact same amount of gel. I started on one pump, since I wanted to stretch out the amount of gel I had for as long as I could. I didn’t know if I would be able to get another one on time, and I was fully aware that I was relying only on the generosity of my friend.

The changes have, as expected, come rather slowly. I have been on testosterone for around a month and a half now, and, unfortunately, I’m no closer to resembling Chris Hemsworth or Zac Effron than I was when I started. All in good time. What I have noticed is that my voice has dropped, and I’m plagued by embarrassing voice cracks at the worst of times. Every man has to go through them at some point and I’m no exception. God help me when I get stuck trying to grow a beard.

None of my fears about making a mistake have come to pass. I have been happy with all the changes, which is not something I could ever say about going through my first puberty.

The reasons that people choose to self-prescribe hormones are vast, not least because of the cost and time that goes into getting a prescription legally. The reasons, however, run much deeper than just personal cost.

Transgender treatment is a subject of fierce debate worldwide, and the UK is no exception. Recently, a lawsuit was brought against the Tavistock GIC by a woman who started taking puberty blockers when she was a teenager, and then detransitioned at 23. She believes that the NHS did not take enough precautions before prescribing her puberty blockers - which are fully reversible.

As a result of this, under 16’s in the UK may now no longer be able to give informed consent to start taking puberty blockers before they start on hormones at 18. While people who detransition are facing a very difficult time in their lives and deserve support, the backlash falls on actual trans people.

TERF groups (trans exclusionary radical feminists) see these detransitoners as martyrs who have been brainwashed and victimized by ‘the trans cult’. As a result, actual trans people face not only increased waiting times and inaccessible appointments but also increased media scrutiny and online vitriol.

Trans issues are in the limelight. Recently, Elliot Paige, who plays Vanya in The Umbrella Academy, came out as FTM, becoming one of the most high-profile celebrities to come out transmasculine. Trans men are often left out of public conversation, as trans women are more often the focus of transphobic tabloid media and TERF rhetoric. With more and more people coming out, either as transgender, or in support of transgender rights, trans treatment should hopefully become more and more accessible.

Written December 2020 By Lachlan Mykura

#ftm #transgender #transmasculine #hormones #testogel #NHS #gender #gender identity #transition #testosterone #journalism #news #lachlanwrites

[hisunshiine]

Escape ✈︎ Chapter 4

✈︎ chapter 4: you have been cordially invited... |✈︎ Escape Series—18+, Mature     

   ✈︎ genre: fluff, future smut

   ✈︎ word count: 2,736 words 

   ✈︎ pairing: jungkook x [redacted] (at the very end)

   ✈︎ warnings: alcohol consumption

   ✈︎ summary: A look into what it's like arriving to Bangtania...

| series masterlist | previous | next | hisunshiine | mrsparkjimin18 |

Everyday, since the very beginning when it was announced, you have sat at your computer or been on your phone in order to participate in the giveaway for a chance to go to Bangtania Island. Every week, one lucky person has a chance to win an exclusive invitation from the girls who organized it, all expenses paid for them to relocate out there.  

Friday couldn’t have come soon enough; your job was draining. A typical 9-5, doing office work was monotonous and you slogged through the week waiting for your weekends to come. Despite the wish to find something else, nobody was hiring in your city. Not for anything you wanted to do, anyways. Deep in your gut you felt the need for something more, instead of the repetitious clacking of your fingers against the keyboard, answering the phones, and feeling like a machine.

Fortunately, it’s the weekend, so you decide to stop and grab a bottle of wine and make your way home. You’re ready to unwind with some youtube videos and spend time browsing your social media for anything interesting. You pour a glass of wine and relax on the sofa, open your laptop and log in to twitter. You have a few notifications, including an update from the giveaway page, they had posted there was another winner chosen and that the winner would receive an email shortly.

“That was 30 minutes ago!?” You squeal to yourself, an unexplainable feeling creeping over you.

Just then your phone chimes, and you unlock the screen to check your notifications. You have multiple email notifications, so you check your email app as you sip your wine. Scrolling through them, it’s mainly junk mail, you see one that catches your eye.

Sender Name: Bangtania Island Mayor

Subject: You have been cordially invited…

Y/N,

Congratulations! You have been selected as the next lucky winner to be invited to Bangtania Island. In order to accept this invitation, please click on the link and fill out the application. Documents you may need to gather prior to completing the forms in the link are:

Driver’s License

Social Security Card

Passport

Please make sure to include the earliest date for you to travel, and please have your physical completed prior to boarding the plane. All documents needed are attached to the email. Please make sure to electronically sign them and reply to this email with the completed documents. If you have any questions in regards to the forms, please do not hesitate to reach out. Upon completion of all required documents per your reply email, you will receive your e-ticket for travel.

The following are the guidelines and stipulations for traveling to Bangtania Island:

You will receive a one-way ticket, free of cost. You will be picked up from the airport and transported to the boat, which will bring you to the island. You will be given a limited amount of time to decide if you would like to stay as a permanent resident of Bangtania, approximately 2 weeks. Prior to you being granted full access to the island, you will meet with the Deputy Mayor who will greet you at the dock, completing a brief in-person interview. If you decide to leave or prove unfit for the island at that time, a complimentary ticket home will be provided to you up until the 2-week window.

Thank you,

Vanessa

Deputy Mayor of the Mayor’s Office, Bangtania Island

You couldn’t stop yourself from spilling some wine as you low-key panicked. You knew there was a very good possibility of being chosen; some of your mutuals on twitter had already left to go there, and while you had seen them briefly on the TL, it was never for long and they didn’t say anything other than that they were enjoying themselves immensely and to share the sweepstakes link.

You set down what was left of your wine that hadn’t spilt into your lap, and ran around your room, pulling clothes off of their hangers and out of your dresser drawers before you remembered you hadn’t even clicked the link to complete the forms. 

Pausing in the middle of your bedroom, arms filled with random clothes, you took 7 deep breaths to try and calm down before dropping your handful of clothes into your pen and waiting suitcase. Sitting back down, you calmly clicked the link and once transported to the secure website, you filled in the information needed so that your flight could be purchased for you as well as any other accommodations you may need could be handled by the ones in charge. 

You printed out the forms needed for the physical, jotted down some notes to go to the doctor on Monday to complete the form, and decided that the earliest you would be able to fly out was Wednesday. That gives you enough time to go to your job, request use of your vacation hours for the next 2 weeks, and turn in your two week notice. You didn’t ever want to come back to that shit hole.

You celebrated the news by turning up your bluetooth speaker and blasting your favorite upbeat BTS songs while you packed up everything you would need. Hasta La Vista!

Catching your flight was easier than you thought it would be, as you had an upgraded flight in first class. You were given star treatment, access to a separate waiting area with complimentary food and drinks, less people to deal with, comfortable seats, the works. You couldn’t believe that ARMY was able to provide all of this for you, but who were you to complain? 

The boat ride was also nice, more like taking a large yacht across the water to the island, you stood at the bough of the boat for most of the trip, enjoying the view as you became farther and farther away from everything that was shitty about your life and closer to everything you wanted. An escape into a world that was full of other people who were like you, liked the same music, had the same mindset, and you got to do it all on a paradise island? Hell fucking yeah.

After docking, you rolled your luggage behind you as you disembarked from the ramp, and saw a girl waiting for you. She was short but cute, a friendly smile and aura of being in charge. Her cheeks were slightly sunburnt, but you were envious of the way she looked refreshed, skin glowing. You couldn’t wait for that to be you; sunkissed and relaxed from the ocean breeze and too many margaritas.

“Y/n?” She asked, and you nodded.

“Welcome! I’m Vanessa, I hope that your trip went well?”

“Oh yea, it was awesome, thank you!”

“No problem, congratulations on winning! So before we go off to the fun stuff, we have a brief interview and a few more things to go over, and then I’ll give you a tour of the island and show you to your place. If you’ll follow me?”

Vanessa led the way to a golf cart and you climbed on, your luggage secured in the back seat of the cart. She turned the key, and you were speeding off towards a large house. It was painted white with accents of brick, and green ivy climbing lattices. The windows were large and beautiful, and you felt like you had seen them somewhere before. Like they were in a magazine or some type of professional photos or something. You shrugged off the feeling of deja vu, and followed Vanessa into the house.

The windows were open and provided a good amount of sunlight into the entryway, and you tried to take in as much as you could see as Vanessa walked past a staircase and led you towards the back of the house and into a side room. It was an office, with bright white walls and a large sturdy desk. A bookshelf was the entire wall behind the desk, where she now sat at. 

She gestured to the plush chair in front of her desk and you sat down, suddenly nervous. For such a large house, it was pretty quiet, and you wondered where all the other people were. Was this actually all an elaborate trick to sell you into sex trafficking and you were brought here to die?!

You calmed your thoughts once you heard laughter from somewhere above you, and music playing lightly from another area of the house.

“So, once again, welcome! I am the deputy mayor here, and basically in charge of getting you all settled. We are a formal nation, Bangtania, with a president, a whole government system, and we’re working on expanding the businesses here. Before I can reveal anything more to you, I do need to have you sign the Non-Disclosure Agreement here in person. I know that I sent it to you via email for you to read and electronically sign, but I like to cover all of my bases.”

Like clockwork, another woman walked into the open office door, carrying a glass of wine and some papers. She took a sip and handed the papers to Vanessa, who thanked her as she headed back out of the room. The woman blew a kiss and disappeared around the corner.

“That’s my best friend, Talia, and definitely the reason that all of this was even put into motion,” Vanessa said as she shuffled the papers before straightening them gently by tapping the edges on the desk. She stapled the corner, binding the papers together, and passed it over to you.

“I know you read over most of this, but I want to reiterate a few points anyways. From the moment you leave this office, you are not to share with anyone about the other people on this island. When you first applied to the giveaway sweepstakes, you gave us your social media handles. While we won’t take away social media from you, your posts will be monitored for identifying certain people who wish to remain anonymous while here. Please always ask anyone before posting and triple check photos as well.”

She points to a section and you initial, stating you understand.

“You have a two week period here to see how you like it. You don’t have to stay if you do not want to. After that time, you will be issued a passport for Bangtania, a resident ID, and be included in our census. You will have dual citizenship for here and for your home country as well.”

“If you choose to leave within the 2 week window, it’s no charge. If you choose to leave after, you will have to fund your flight home yourself. We will pay for your boat ride back to the mainland, and from there you can negotiate work or if you have money saved just in case, you can fly out. Also, if you choose to stay, you can always fly out to visit friends and family, just remember the NDA is always in affect.”

You initialed again.

Vanessa led you through a few more sections of the contract, and you learned that a few of the girls on the island were nurses and so if you were sick or needed minor medical attention, they would help you. Everything else was pretty much provided to you, and all they asked was that they could use your skills in return. 

You weren’t surprised they knew you had skills with computers and answering phones, which made you a perfect candidate to work in the main house under Vanessa doing secretarial work for her best friend, Talia. It wouldn’t be a lot of work, you would have plenty of time to enjoy the beach and rest, and the work would be related to the giveaway, running the island, and other fun BTS related things, so you were excited.

Signing your last signature on the bottom of the last page, Vanessa took the document, notarized it, and put it away in a locked filing cabinet next to her desk.

“Now, if you’re ready, I’d love to give you a tour of the island and show you where you’ll be staying.”

After seeing the main areas that people hung out at, you went towards what looked like a restaurant, which was good because you were hungry. Vanessa parked the golf cart next to a few others, and she held the door open for you.

You almost fainted. Seated at the table right when you walked in was none other than the 7 boys that were the reason you lived. BTS. Namjoon, Jimin, Yoongi, Taehyung, and Jungkook were sat at the table, and as you looked around, you saw that in between them sat other girls, including mutuals you knew were living here. Hobi appeared from swinging doors that led to what you assumed was the kitchen, delivering plates of food from a platter as a few girls followed him as well with drinks.

“C’mon Y/N, don’t be shy. Isn’t this what you wanted?” Vanessa laughed, taking in your shocked expression.

After eating, and sharing some conversation with Jin and Yoongi, you were ready for a nap. Jin was an exceptional cook, and you were full to the brim. Vanessa waved bye to everyone, a lingering hand on a certain male’s shoulder as she walked away, leading you back outside. As you sat back on the leather seat of the cart, she checked in with you.

“I’m definitely still in shock, but now I understand the NDA a lot more.” You chuckled as she drove you towards another house. It was just as big as the main house, as you heard several people call it, but the style was more relaxed and upon entering it, you realized it was because it was lived in. It was two stories, with a large open concept downstairs with a living room and kitchen, and rooms upstairs. You dragged your suitcase up the flight and Vanessa unlocked a room for you with a key before handing it to you.

“This is our newcomer guest room. We will have a room ready for you after your 2 weeks are up, if you decide to stay. For now, most people have said staying with me and Talia has been helpful if they had questions or needed anything, but any of the girls will help you, everyone is super nice.”

You looked around the room; it was spacious with a nice big bay window that allowed a decent amount of sunlight in.

“I’ll leave you to get settled in. Feel free to explore some more, and tomorrow we will have our weekly game night so you can meet everyone in a more relaxed setting and have fun. It’s our way of welcoming you to Bangtania.”

Vanessa let herself out of the room, closing the door softly. You wanted to explore, but at the moment the bed was calling to you. You lay down in the spot where the sun was pooling, curling yourself into the warmth and passed out. Jet Lag was a bitch.

When you finally rejoined the waking world, it was definitely not waking hours. The sun had set, and you shiver, the ocean breeze now too cool in your bedroom. You get up, throwing a MOTS tour hoodie on, and climb back in the bed, attempting to go back to sleep. Tossing and turning for about 15 minutes, sleep evades you. You must have caught up on all of your missing sleep with that ‘nap’ you took. Like you said, Jet lag is a bitch. Not wanting to continue to lay there restless, you slip out of the room and down the stairs.

You walk along the road, past other houses, finding yourself walking into sand. Sitting on the beach, enjoying the sound of the waves, you finally begin to feel tired. Rather than fall asleep on the beach, you make your way back to the house.

You head up the stairs and start down the hall, being as quiet as possible since it’s late and everyone is asleep. At least you assume they are all asleep, until you hear a very familiar voice coming from Vanessa’s room.

“Come here Princess, why are you acting this way?” You step closer to the door that is slightly ajar. You can’t believe what you are seeing, but you can’t stop watching either.

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