#also good job staff at running a shit website

[iamnotawomanimagod]

you know I'm as irritated with the changes and the things staff has been saying just as much as the next guy

but y'all Tumblr is 30 million dollars in debt

they have to do something

and they're not making up the difference enough with crabs and ad-free and dumb little badges

I just see a lot of complaining and criticizing and not a whole lot of suggestions on what exactly they should do instead. it's not our job to solve that problem. we're not the ones running this website.

but damn, what do y'all think is gonna happen if tumblr doesn't start making money? they're just going to keep this place running out of charity? no.

I've seen the rise and fall of so many social media websites. there are still people I think so fondly of that I've never heard from again after they or I left those websites, or those websites eventually died. people who were involved with my wedding from afar. people who had been keeping up with all my personal shit. people who I really admired, cared about, and wanted to keep in touch with. I have no way of reaching any of them anymore.

I've been on tumblr longer than any of those other websites. I've got friends on here who have been following me on the internet in some form since I was 14. (I'm 31 now.) Even just the OG followers/mutuals I have I've known since 2012.

I don't know where I'll go from here. I know for a fact that when this place does shut down, I am going to lose a lot of you. And a lot of you are going to lose other people, too.

just like. keep that in mind when you're (rightfully) complaining about the changes tumblr is making. a lot of them are bad ideas, and a lot of them are driving the existing userbase away. but the existing userbase is not currently providing enough money to keep this website running. do the math.

either something changes or tumblr dies. that's where we're at. and if you're good with tumblr dying, cool. you're allowed to feel that way. just don't be a dick about the people who are going to be bummed, and the staff that's going to lose their jobs.

(also fwiw they almost definitely have some kind of contract/deal with the company running tumblr Live, there's no way that's going away until that contract runs its course, at the very least. it's not like Group Chats which they could just quietly remove when no one was using them. working with another company means they're shackled to that deal, even though quite literally 99% of the userbase has never used Live.)

Idk. I'm thinking people are going to start feeling a little more warmly and sadly towards this place when it all goes away. and then it'll be too late.

#most of the criticisms are valid but again - not seeing a whole lot of alternatives offered as suggestions #and the criticisms are good and important #but digging in your heels and insisting nothing should ever change isn't going to keep tumblr around #stephspeaks

[sreegs]

At this point it's a pavlovian instinct for users to see a monetization attempt and go all rebel. It's part of the culture I see in all circles here - the thinking that since tumblr was free this whole time, any monetization is an instant meme and a scam because this website is a 'dumpter fire'. Also the loudest majority haven't the faintest clue how such platforms are run. It's always easier to blame everything on the abstract 'staff' than read even one article explaining the whys.

I don't blame people for having the instinct, it's inescapable at this point. This is not just a problem with Tumblr. The internet was wide open and free decades ago, splintered into smaller companies and individual efforts. This was fueled by the novelty of the tech and no one really thought about the long-term sustainability of it. The Dot Com Bubble burst, then the inevitable monopolization happened as the surviving tech giants scooped up companies who didn't make it past the collapse.

Then, we entered an age of increasingly pervasive ads. At first, they paid the bills. But as the monopolization continued, the big ones cornered the market on ads (Google and Facebook) and server hosting (Amazon). This made ads an unsustainable revenue stream, and left very little choice in reasonable-cost server hosting. Now we're here. Ads don't make enough money anymore. After about 25 years or so of the world wide web as we know it being "free", services gotta charge you now, or beg for money otherwise.

I guess this aligns websites more with traditional business models now (money is exchanged for goods and services), but since there's so many people online, and they're used to it being free, it comes as a shock. I don't know what the alternative is at this point, beyond making the internet a wholly public service run by... who knows? A utility that you get no matter what, guaranteeing free access paid by taxes and such. But then what? Still gotta pay for web hosting. I don't really know what the answer is beyond a sea change in our economic system. I guess public mesh networks and alternative internets are a route but that still costs time, money, and resources to maintain. Inevitably, capitalism will seep into that domain too.

Got a little off track there. The point of my original post trying to explain the justification of ad-free Tumblr was not to try to convince people you have to buy it, or event that you should buy it. My point was merely to remind people that Tumblr is a corporation, owned and run by a few, but built and maintained by many. The maintainers have no real power over the decision making process. Corporations are effectively oligarchies or dictatorships depending on their structure. I forget that, since I've been working for corporations for a while now, not everyone has this perspective from inside a big company. And even fewer people understand what it's like to work in tech.

While I was working at Tumblr, some people got used to the hate slung at staff. Others didn't. Not everyone has thick skin. It stresses them out. Real people lose sleep over it. They worry about keeping their job, and not everyone working for a Tech company is fortunate enough to be engineers who have a bit more job safety and prospective employers.

If you get joy out of that, honestly what does that say about you? Do you really believe everyone has unlimited choices as to where they work? Do you think it's easy to just pack up and choose a new job once the company turns to shit? Are you that delusional? Or are you simply too distant from the meat grinder to understand it yet? Do you not yet know that more pay from a white collar job does not make it inherently easier than all others, and that all jobs that require you to work are stressful to some degree?

Not everyone is confident enough to keep a cool head when they're laid off, or have the guts to start looking for a new job before that happens. It's tough for everyone, I think, just moreso for some than others.

#tumblr #staff #humans #anxiety is a hell of a drug #capitalism is worse

[demonsandmischief]

Sleepy

Ghost Adventures - Zak Bagans Imagine

Zak Bagans x Female Reader, 1200 words

-Sleepy-

Imagine Zak is very grouchy when traveling and filming. He learns that you are his best remedy.

----

You had just arrived at the filming location which was a pretty isolated mining town. You worked for Travel Channel doing photography, and some setting up and taking down, but you never got up close and personal with the Ghost Adventures crew - Billy, Aaron, Jay nor Zak. You got along great when working, but that was as far as the interaction went.

Because the ghost town was in the middle of nowhere, staff was limited for the episode. Those that you worked with regularly would only be around for today before flying home tonight. You, however, were needed the whole time. This meant you would be staying in an RV with the crew. Three days and two nights.

You were extremely apprehensive about the whole thing. The mobile home was huge and luxurious, easily sleeping up to 8 people and there were only 5 including you, but you didn't really know any of them that well. They were like that group in high school who only hung out with each other, and you were the outsider.

"It's a slumber party," Aaron grinned, taking the bags that you were clutching nervously in your hands as you took in the beast of an RV.

You followed him up the steps. Billy was sitting at the dinette, working on his laptop. He greeted you kindly.

Jay had followed you in with multiple bags of his own, and you quickly moved out of his way so he could dump them onto the plush couch.

"All of those are cameras for set-up later," Jay said, seeing your perplexed look.

"Has anyone seen Zak?" asked Aaron. "The first person we're interviewing should be here within an hour."

"Y/N," Billy started, catching your attention. "Zak sleeps in the room with the queen sized bed. The rest of us will crash in the other room which has four bunks. I'm assuming you won't want to be in there. The couch folds out into a bed."

You laughed softly, imagining the tall men sleeping in beds meant for children. "I'm good with that, thanks. Who exactly will be sleeping on that top bunk?"

The three guys exchanged looks before Jay spoke, "Bill is the shortest."

"There's no way I am, dude," Aaron chuckled.

"I'm shortest by like an inch," Billy argued, shutting his laptop.

"That inch matters," Aaron retorted.

"Y/N can pick then," Jay said, and they a turned expectantly towards you.

"No way," you shook your head. You didn't want to get in the middle of it. "Draw names or something."

"If Zak chose, he definitely would pick Aaron," Billy said teasingly.

"Whatever," Aaron rolled his eyes.

Speaking of the devil, Zak climbed into the RV right into where you and the guys were talking. You've always had a small crush on him. Zak was very good looking and very intelligent, but you had never really had a conversation with him. Today, he had a deep frown on his face, his eyes also dark. He was disturbed by something.

"Come on. There's lots of things to get done. We don't have all day, guys," Zak said, before leaving. They could all feel the tension.

Billy blew out some air before standing up with his laptop and leaving. Aaron and Jay followed.

You dug through your bag to pull out your favorite camera along with the right lens. Your job was to take promotional pictures for the website, social media and whatever else. It had to be one of the best jobs you have ever had.

You were startled when Zak came back in the RV.

"Hello," he greeted, not even looking at you. He had a small bag, carrying it with him into the bedroom.

You fiddled with your camera, checking the settings and battery. You decided it would be a good idea to start walking around and taking some pictures. The place was huge.

You stood up, nearly knocking into Zak who had left the room so quietly you didn't even notice.

"Watch it," he said, clearly irritated. You didn't know if it was because of your presence or what you noticed earlier, but it still bothered you.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, but he was gone once more. You frowned, a million thoughts running through your head.

You kept to yourself the rest of day, until night came and everyone headed in early. Tomorrow was set-up and it started as soon as the sun was up for you, Billy and Jay. You were lucky you didn't have to stay up all night like they did.

----

You were startled from your sleep by someone making a lot of noise in the fridge right by the couch.

You sat up with squinty eyes, trying to clear and focus them.

"Shit, sorry Y/N. I was just getting some water," Zak whispered. He was in sweatpants and a t-shirt, the black was illuminated by the light of the fridge. His hair was ruffled, and he had deep bags under his eyes.

"It's fine," you mumbled. It looked like he hadn't slept at all, yet he was dragging on his feet. "Are you alright, Zak?"

"I'm fine," he said dismissively, shutting the refrigerator harshly.

"You're going to wake up the whole RV," you said, becoming more awake by the minute.

Zak released a breath, cursing something under this breath. He was agitated by something.

"I can listen, Zak. I promise I won't say anything," you patted the bed beside you.

He hesitated, before sitting with his back against the wall. It was silent between the two of you.

"I might fall asleep if you don't start talking," you yawned, leaning your head on his shoulder. Your eyes were becoming heavy.

"I've been irritated since that last investigation a few weeks ago. I can't shake it," he whispered. His low voice vibrated your whole body and it was quite soothing.

"Have you slept?" you murmured.

You could feel him shake his head no, and you sighed. "Zak, you're going to get sick. It's been weeks."

"I can't sleep undisturbed anyway."

"You should try. Just close your eyes," you were struggling to stay awake. Zak had started running his fingers through your hair, and combined with his voice, you were comforted like nothing else.

Zak smiled down at you, but you couldn't see. He was beginning to like you. He had noticed you before, but had never taken the chance to get to know you. That clearly was a mistake. His head was surprisingly quiet in this moment, and he felt like he could truly fall asleep if he wanted to.

----

The more he thought of it, the more it threatened to take over. He could feel your soft breathing even out. You had fallen asleep, and he wasn't too far behind. He rested his head on yours and sleep found him.

Here's Part 2

A/N: I love this one. So soft and simple 🥺. I think it deserves a part 2. What do you think?

#zak bagans x reader #zak bagans imagine #ghost adventures #zak bagans #ghost adventures crew #aaron goodwin #billy tolley #jay wasley #gac #paranormal #travel channel #imagine #quick read

[kelmcdonald]

New Year! New Stuff!

New Post has been published on https://kelmcdonald.com/news/new-year-new-stuff/

New Year! New Stuff!

Hey all! Happy New year! It’s been awhile since I sent out one of these. I’ve had a lot of going on and kept just putting writing newsletters off. What have I been doing? Well for one, I put the finishing touches on Woman in the Woods and Other North American Stories. That kickstarter finished out at the most funded comic anthology on twitter! HUZZAH!

And didn’t have too long to celebrate, I jumped into helping run another Iron Circus Kickstarter, Real Hero Shit by Kendra Wells! I edited Real Hero Shit all last year. It’s out in February and is a fun time all around. I even did a drawing of the main character Eugene.

Then shortly after Real Hero Shit launched on kickstarter I got a job at the publisher Seven Seas! So getting the hang of things in the manga editing process took up most of my November and December.  I’m super glad because I really got to rethink how my comics are making money. This is gonna give me some flexibility and time to think about a new direction.

Why a new direction?  Well, cons still aren’t back in the full swing. I don’t have a lot of faith in things bouncing back in 2022. I went to Rose City Comic Con and Emerald City Comic Con in 2021. Both were okay but not in full force, also Emerald City was right when the Omicron variant first got reported. I don’t think things will bounce back by July 2022 (which is when San Diego Comic Con, my next con is scheduled)

The other thing is Kickstarter is pivoting to blockchain. Why are they doing this? Well, seems like they don’t even know. Their statement on it was a lot of buzzwords and not a lot of content. Then their follow up to clarification was… more buzzwords and some “our blockchain is different, we swear.” Now if you are someone who doesn’t live on the internet like I do and therefore don’t know what blockchain is, here is a youtube video that does a nice job explaining it. 

The short version is it is a way of coding that uses a shit ton of power. The environmental impact is too much for me and a lot of other comic artists to ignore. Part of Kickstarter’s “clarification” is them saying they are gonna use a blockchain that offsets their carbon footprint, but said blockchain is self reporting.

I mentioned a lot of other comic artists are taking this stance, as are a bunch of indie tabletop game developers. Also several of Kickstarter’s staff have quit over this. But Kickstarter is still going full steam ahead. I’ll be super surprised if they change things up. It’s frustrating because they have been so good until now and they don’t really seem to have a plan. I need to look into more crowdfunding options. Currently, I am looking into Indiegogo and Zoop. Indiegogo is more established but a lot of scammers have used it in the past, so I don’t know. Zoop is newer and takes a bigger cut, but it handles fulfillment and is comics only. So like maybe they will adjust to specific comic needs quicker? I don’t know.

I’m now gonna take this moment to post a general reminder to anyone who wants to start a webcomic in the future, please make your own website. Make sure people know about, otherwise your hard work can be wrecked by a corporation’s whim. Use all the tools, social media, whatever online that you can, but a hub/website you control is important to building something that can weather the ever changing internet.

With all these shake ups, are you wondering how you can help support me in the meantime? Well, here is my Amazon author page. Please review my books on there. It does help them sell better and get recommended to other people. 

Yes, I know Amazon is also bad for the environment. But even if you don’t use Amazon or try to avoid it, you can still leave a review.  Meanwhile, I’m restructuring what I’m gonna be doing with my website, patreon, and online presence. Where am I doing that? Well…

I’m gonna try to be more active on twitter again. In mid-2019, I was super burnt out on twitter. I’m not even talking about discourse or shitty people getting into fights with me on twitter. Just the act of trying to post on it regularly, to think of what to say, and stay active, I found it exhausting. Like I wasn’t burnt out on anything else, just twitter (and well other social medias). If you follow me on twitter, you might have noticed I only posted that my site updated. Those are all auto-posts from my website. After about 2 and ½ years, I think I’m ready to at least try to post stuff on there again. And I’ve got a few experiments to see if I can figure out a way to use it without getting burnt out. 

I’m also gonna try to post more on instagram and my facebook page too. But those are a lower priority. Facebook because it hides posts from like 2/3s of the people that like the page unless I give them money. Instragram because my account there is newer and building something up from scratch is harder than just getting older things running again.

I’m also gonna be streaming more art. Jose Pimienta and I had a good time streaming on Wednesdays, but we are gonna move it to the evening rather than at lunchtime. I figured that it would be easier to do editing work in the morning, and then art after dinner. Since they went well, I’m also gonna be streaming on Tuesday evenings with Alina Pete. Both of those streams will start at 8pm standard time. Keeping both of these going is gonna help me balance doing art and editing.

Bones and I are also gonna get back to streaming video games again. It’s gonna be a mix of Rimworld, Crusader Kings, and Don’t Starve Together. We’ll announce which before streaming each Thursday. To get back into the groove we streamed some Rimworld on Christmas and New Years Eve. I installed the Forgotten Realms mod. It adds a bunch of races from dnd into the game, so we gave playing as the Illithid squid monsters. You can give it a watch here and here.

As for projects coming in 2022, I got a lot of plans and hope I can get some off the ground. So here are some pitches I’m working on (these are all working titles):

Next The City Between will start soon. Murky Water is gonna wrap up in mid-2022. I have a couple ideas for the next story. Two are about half way written. I’m having my Patreon backers vote on which is next. I am also gonna think about if I want to do an omnibus of City Between books. But that’s on the back burner since cons aren’t back in full force and I’m not using Kickstarter anymore. 

You are the Chosen One is gonna keep going on my Patreon. I’m gonna take a break before starting Chapter 3 because I need to do some concept art. Also, Patreon isn’t really the best place to read something serialized. So I’m talking to Kevin, the guy who built my website, about making a password protected archive on my site. I want it to be easier for folks to catch up. 

Blue Moon is a YA horror/romance about a non-binary teen in a small town who gets drawn to a mysterious drifter passing through town. I’m writing it and Meredith McClarren is drawing it. I got the pitch packet mostly made, but gotta tweak it a little to clarify some stuff. 

As Time Goes By is a middle grade story about a town stuck in the late 50s. A modern preteen and their family pass through. Said preteen befriends a queer local preteen and the two of them try to help local kid escape the time trapped magic town. This one doesn’t have an artist and I still need to clear up some stuff. But once Blue Moon is ready to get pitch around I’m gonna focus on cleaning this one up. I’m trying to go for a Brigadon meets Pleasantville vibe. 

Eat the Witch is an adult graphic black comedy about werewolves eating the rich. Kinda. Basically, it uses magic as a metaphor for inherited wealth. So the werewolves are focused on fight (and eating) a group of spellcasters based in a country club. This one I want to write and draw. I’ve posted some character designs on instragram about this. Right now I’m mostly reading some political theory nonfiction books as research. That way I can clean up the parts in the story that are currently vague and make sure it’s reinforcing the metaphor I’m aiming from. This one will probably be a while I do anything public with it. I also don’t really know where I’d send this out as a pitch. 

I think that is everything. Hope you all have a good new year! Thanks for your support. Please support my patreon if you can.

#newsletter

[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

[cloviaglade]

THE CRIMSON FLOWER ROUTE CORPORATE UNION AU

Yeah it came to me in a dream shared it with a friend and she said I should inflict it on the world so here we go

Warning: It's super long but I broke it up into chunks

(note not all members of the house fall into the categories listed also I'm not the best with corporate terms and positions. Also this was made for fun and isn't that serious)

The houses

The Black eagles generally were in accounting or sales. They dealt with a lot of the customers firsthand and were considered expendable

Blue lions where mostly in HR or IT

Golden deer mostly worked in maintenance and public relations.

Staff and church members are members of the board. Flayn has her position on the board despite her age because nepotism

The Seiros Co:

It's a large company that provide a large array of services and products that promote physical and emotional well-being. The company started out with good intentions but soon became a corporate monster

The company provides a host of benefits to its employees including on site housing, on site restraunts, on site pools gyms ect. They even have the best insurance on the planet. They even have horse therapy.

However they have to pay premiums on the health insurance, their rent is docted from their pay, they have to pay for on-site facilities, and those living on site are heavily encouraged to work overtime.

a lot of this is justified by cover every single health expense and days of for minor colds. Many employees seek mental health care more often than they seek physical care.

The on site living conditions vary heavily. Most are just a small white room with a single bed and a dresser. No visitors after certain hours and forget about outside visitors. However rumors are spreading that the board members have spacious luxury apartments.

The pay without all the benefits is not a wage you could live off of. But with the rent for these rooms doct from your pay you couldn't reasonably save up for different arrangements.

The strike begins:

Edelguard was finally fed up watching her team struggling. She hears constantly about how her workers are not making enough. How they have to scrape because they needed new clothes or shoes. Or worse how Petra wasn't able to support her sick grandfather

She hired a lawyer Hubert to look into information about their contracts and compare everything to labor laws. She needed to know how much of this was legal and if there was anything to be done about it.

Huberts lawfirm dealt with several lawsuits in the past. They are considered ruthless in court however media painted them out to be money hungry and demented

As expected, it was legal (mostly due to lack of regulation for these types of benefits) but really unfair, So Hubert suggested a strike. His firm would handle all the legal matters as they prepared a lawsuit and to unionize.

Edelguard was careful to organize it in private. Nothing was emailed. Nothing to tract them. Flyers were handwritten and posted in the dorms inviting members to secret meeting on slow hours.

Roles

What everyone did on the day of the strike/position they were in the office.

Black eagles

Edalguard: head of sales- she got everyone in her department and many others in different departments to simply stop working for the day when she commanded everyone to stop working via megaphone. She suck in hubert and went to a private meeting room to set up a list of demands.

Hubert: head of Vestra lawfirm- he snuck past security with the help of Edelguard. He brought a laptop and a phone with Hotspot so he could video call the rest of his attorneys from inside the conference room. Once the strike was in full swing he toured the place with Edelguard gathering evidence.

Ferdinand: senior sale manager has the highest customer satisfaction - when the strike was well underway he sent a mass email to everyone in every department including the CEO and founder herself in a very professional tone about how there is a strike. Lornez replied immediately and they when to the breakroom to enjoy tea while on the clock.

Lindhart: IT software specialist - first thing he did was turn off all the bans on websites. Everyone could go on whatever website they wanted to. He left the download blocker up and other safety precautions in place. Others could looks at memes and scroll through social media ect. He then returns to his dorm and takes a paid nap.

Caspar: manager in accounting slow but very accurate and a real team player - he hated the no pets policy with a burning passion so he let all the stray and feral cats that hang around the building in through one of the side doors. They stayed mostly on the ground floor and a few made a mess under the desks. He played with the strays with a few of his co-workers.

Bernadette: customer service rep. - she hated the calls filled with angry people. She clocked out, disconnected he phone, ran into her dorm and screamed into her pillow until calm. Once she calmed down enough she did some embroidery.

Dorothea: sales representative- has the highest upsale rate - she gets into her car and just leaves. She is still clocked in. Nobody knows where she went. Some say she met with a lover, others say she went on a binge. Nobody really knows.

Petra: bilingual sales rep. - she signed her phone off and immediately called up her family overseas. She proceeded to catch up and talk with her family for hours. She rarely got to speak with them due to the difference in timezones.

Blue lions

Dimitri: head of IT - he doesn't actually know much about IT and has little intrest in it. He got the job because his dad recommended him. With the outside website ban lifted and the lost of control of his department he frantically tried to get everything under control

Dedue: cyber security and protocol educator - although the bans are lifted he is still concerned about a cyber attack. He is frantically try to restore the ban but it seems like lindhart deleted the code.

Felix: hardware specialists - he was the one who should've been promoted into Dimitri's position and is a bit smug about how everything is falling apart in front of his boss. He bypasses the download blocker and plays minecraft on the company computer. Dimitri is too busy to notice that felix isn't helping.

Sylvain: HR rep. - he knew from the start that working conditions were shit. He was tired of trying to raise moral by doing everything but paying the employees more, giving them time off, and reasonable working hours. He went to the break room where Ferdinand and Lornez were having tea and ate a bunch of the snacks the company was reselling at super high prices then faxed a picture of his ass and balls to rhea herself as a letter of resignation.

Ashe: new hire in IT - was called down to the first floor to replace a keyboard a cat peed on. Found caspar was the reason the cats were let in. Caspar then persuaded him to play with the cats instead of shooing them out. 3 hours later he completely forgot about the strike and clocked out per usual. He completely forgot about the strike

Mercedes: head of HR - she meets with the board and discussed what to do about the strikers. They can't force them to go home since everyone striking lives on site and has every right to be there. No significant damages is being done to property. The only loss is from those not working (and a keyboard covered in cat piss and $35 worth of snacks) Mercedes is forced to find a way to get them to stop but in a way that doesn't really change anything. She leaves the meeting when it is over clocks out and returns to her modest house she calls out sick for the next couple of months.

Annette: HR rep - she tries to stop the chaos on the floor and to convince everyone to return to work. She is ignored. She wanted to ask for a megaphone to help gain attention but edelguard took the one from HR and the person with the key to one in the event closet is striking as well. She runs around in a paint trying to answer emails and settle everyone down.

Ingrid: IT helpline rep - helping Dimitri reset the ban on outside websites is above her pay grade. She at least know some of the terminology and the basics. She manages to set up a very basic blocker but it didn't block whole domains just the homepage of every website she could think of that's wasn't appropriate for work. Logging into the site allowed you to bypass the block. Ingrid feels like she will be fired for not being able to do more

Golden deer:

Claude: event planner - noticing that there was no work happening he finally decided it was time to actually do his job. He dipped into those sweet event funds and ordered as many pizza's as he could from every pizza join that could deliver. He busted out the sport balls and got employees to clear some room for flag football on the 3rd floor. He got Hilda to organize games of hide and go seek in floors 4 and 5. All games and activities were not officially approved but followed all guidelines.

Hilda: claudes assistant - organized games on the 4th and 5th floors. The cubicle although uniform made excellent hiding spaces and the food plaza just got rid of the old tables and chairs awaiting delivery of new ones so there was a ton of space to run around. Hidia had to jump between floors pretty often which was a workout all on its own but it was worth it to see everyone smile at work for once.

Lornez: head of advertising - he was tired of writing jingles and stupid commercials for the company. He wasn't aware of the strike until he got the email from Ferdinand. He offered to treat him to some tea he brought from home. They had a lovely talk and watched Sylvain stress eat. He tried to talk Sylvain out of resigning but failed.

Raphael: pizza delivery guy - he thought it was a joke at first since they never delivered pizza to the Serios Co but was persuaded by Claude. He got stopped at the front by the front desk clerk who was ordered not to allow any deliveries. Soon more pizza guys showed up and some of them where not as nice as Raphael. He eventually got in and successfully delivered his pizza.

Ignatz: accountant - he wanted no part of this and tried to work despite being on the 3rd floor. He doesn't have any PTO and is frantically trying to get his absence approved because he cannot work under these conditions. He got walled in with desks and chairs and hand to crawl his way out to try to find someone in HR to help him but found their office empty. Worst day of work ever.

Lysithia: Intern- hopes to join the advertising department - She needs this job for school credits so finding out that her boss told her to take the day off because of strike she immediately thought of her record. Lorenz assured her that she would get credit as long as he had any say in it. She played a round of hide and go seek before studying in Lornez's office

Marianne: customer service rep.- she heard the rumors and on the day of the strike she freaked out and when to have a panic attack in her car. She was on lunch technically but she took a 3 hour lunch. She came back in clocked out and decided to try that horse therapy.

Leonnie: pizza delivery guy (not nice) - she knows the customer didn't care that the order took so long to complete and was very understanding that the 30mins or less delivery time but seriously! 50 PIZZAS!! She had to stretch and press dough at top speed for like 45 mins then she burnt her hand while boxing some of the pizza's and she had to deliver all of it to this company just outside of town and now the person at the front door is insisting that the pizza was ordered by mistake oh no! Not today! You will take the pizza and you will pay for it and tip 25%.

Church

Rhea: CEO and founder - she honestly believes her practices are helping the community. She doesn't realize that she doesn't give her employees much choice. She thinks her employees are ungrateful.

Seteth: president - also believes the company is doing the best they can. He knows the dorms are small and brand but they house 78.364% of their employees and they all see a doctor at least 3 times a month. He hates that he has difficulty finding a balance between competitive prices, compensating workers, and turning a profit.

Flayn: secretary - she saw the fun going on in the 5th floor while on her lunch and thought it was organized by staff and didn't connect it as part of the strike.

Catherine: front desk - tried to turn away all the delivery drivers but more kept coming. She kept getting calls from upper management about the social media platforms and tried frantically to get in to make a statement but had little luck. She gave up when Leonnie demanded payment and let all the delivery people in.

Shamir: social media manager- she originally attended the meetings as a mole but soon learned that her fellow employees hardships. She drafted huge posts on every platform exposing the truth, changed all the passwords then took a vacation during the strike.

Hanneman: chief operational officer - he is calling and emailing the IT department about the bans every moment he can. He organized the meeting as soon as the strikers got rowdy.

Manuela: chief financial officer - although she is worried about the finances she has also been pressing about where to cut the budget first. Horse therapy is ridiculous! They own the whole ranch and are responsible for the upkeep of every horse. And all the horses are carefully hand selected and trained too. It's too much nobody uses the horse therapy because nobody has the time off to go to horse therapy!

Alois: Chairman - his title is mostly empty. He joined the strikers in a game of flag football scored a touchdown. Then went back to work as usual. Didn't check his emails about the strike since he only checks them in the morning when he first comes into work.

Gilbert: treasurer - he puts business first. Doesn't know his daughter works for the same company. Was friends with Dimitri's father. He is stressing about how the company will recover financially. He is the reason for the pay cuts so they can fund most of the benefits.

Cyrill: gopher - he gets paid minimum wage and lives on site. He considers himself lucky that he can drive the company car to go pick up office supplies from the store. He was homeless before he got a job at Seiros and feels like he is important.

Results

Since several members of the board were caught participating in strike activities the hubert and his firm counted them at strikers and used this in court.

The dorms were not considered responsible accommodations saying that prisoners in jail cells at least have their own toilet.

The news when crazy with the posts on social media. The account never replied to any dms or comments. When called they said a rogue employee posted them falsely because she was being fired.

Rhea was forced to pay a lawsuit that gave all dormitory workers an allowance of $1000 for rent for life. Even if they choose to leave the company.

Dimitri was fired for not actually having any training. Felix was promoted to the head of IT and everyone respects him.

Rhea looses her company. And most of her assets. She kept the therapy horse ranch and manages that for a living.

With the entire company now belonging to her since everyone above her resigned she made a ton of changes making the company more normal. She pays a fair livable wage to every employee. She repurposed the dorms into offices or solitary break rooms.

Huberts firm gets rebranded as a honest firm that wants to help the little guys. He later goes on to help other corporations unionize.

#fire emblem three houses #fire emblem 3 houses #fe3h #fe3h golden deer #fe3h au #fe3h dimitri #fe3h black eagles #fe3h crimson flower #fe3h blue lions #fe3h headcanons #fe3h sylvain #fe3h hubert #fe3h edelgard #fe3h caspar #fe3h ferdinand #fe3h bernadetta #fe3h ashe #fe3h petra #fe3h dorothea #fe3h claude #fe3h hilda #fe3h dedue #fe3h felix #fe3h imagines #fe3h ingrid #fe3h lindhart #fire emblem three houses AU #fire emblem three houses modern au #fire emblem 3h #fire emblem three houses crimson flower

[luxekook]

love bites | ksj

*written for the FWL luv library project*

⇥ pairing: kim seokjin x reader

⇥ genre: non-idol au, co-workers to lovers, smut, fluff

⇥ summary: you’re stuck working the evening shift on valentine’s day at bangtan bistro. as the city’s most expensive and exclusive restaurant, the bistro draws in couples both old and new with partners looking to propose or to impress. your tolerance for PDA and cringey lovebirds has never been lower. throw a flirty chef into the mix and you’re in for a bumpy ride that might just conclude with a happy ending.

⇥ word count: 5.4k

⇥ warnings: 18+, smut, cursing, bad puns from jin, numerous health-code violations (from fraternizing all up in that kitchen), oral (m + f receiving), protected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it, folks), workplace romance, threats of violence from yoongi

⇥ beta'd by the amazing @shadowsremedy​ (thank you, heath! could not have done this without you, your feedback, and your general support!)

“Will you marry me?”

I screech to a halt, completely astounded at the goddamned audacity of the man kneeling before me. Did he really just ask that? At a time like this?

I shift my weight from one foot to the other as I try not to outwardly show my disgust over the scene unfolding before my very eyes.

“Oh my god, Chad!” The date of this Chad finally launches herself from her seat and into his arms, “Yes!”

The restaurant breaks into applause. My forehead breaks into a sweat.

My left arm feels like it might snap at any moment under the weight of the tray of food that I’m meant to be serving this goddamn theatrical couple. The thought of quitting crosses my mind for the umpteenth time that evening.

A camera flash temporarily stuns me, and I feel a tiny twinge of satisfaction. My looming presence in that commemorative photo will hopefully be a reminder to let servers do their damn job before launching into a whole ordeal.

God, I must have been off my fucking rocker when I agreed to work the Valentine’s Day dinner shift. At least the tip money would be worth it.

Gritting my teeth, I flash my best fake smile and offer words of congratulations to the sniffling couple who finally reclaimed their seats.

“Enjoy your meal,” my mouth says with a smile.

“I wish I could sear you like that filet mignon you ordered, Chad,” my glare says with promise.

Thirty seconds later, I’m in full whisper-rant mode at the corner server station. My friend and fellow server Tabby half-listens as she punches in an order at the kiosk.

“And then this Chad in his fucking khaki suit flails to the ground to pop the question like he didn’t see me walking towards them with all seven entrees they ordered. So then I’m stuck hovering over their table with a giant-ass tray of food while they cry and hug and kiss until, finally, finally, they park it back in their seats so I can serve them.”

I groan, hitting my head against the wall, “What did I do in a past life to deserve this?”

“Kill someone, probably,” a voice pipes up from behind the station’s kitchen window, “Oh wait, you would do that in this life, too.”

Kim Seokjin, head chef of Bangtan Bistro and my partial employer, is leaning over the window’s counter, eyes full of mischief as he watches me.

“Oh, what’s this? Are you volunteering to be my very first victim?” I mirror his position leaning over the window’s counter and give him my best side-eye, “I’ll send you my application for victims on Google Docs.”

“Sounds kinky,” Seokjin grins, “Count me in. My Gmail username is Hugh Chefner. No capitals or spaces.”

“I despise you,” I say biting back a smile.

“You lo-o-ove me!” He sings, heading back into the depths of the hectic kitchen.

And, unfortunately, he’s right. Damn Kim Seokjin and his insane level of gorgeousness, charisma, and dramatics.

Against my better judgment, Seokjin has shimmied his chaotic self right into my well-guarded heart. Despite all of the prickliness my typical demeanor displays, I can’t help but melt under the warm gaze of such a handsome man.

Seokjin is the first person that has ever been able to pique my interest lately and keep it. Yes, it might have something to do with his extreme attractiveness; but, it more-so has everything to do with his genuine kindness and weird sense of humor.

Shit, I’ve gone soft. If we’re arguing Nature vs. Nurture here, this is totally Nurture’s fault.

Bangtan Bistro is co-owned by seven men - each as fine as the next. Being surrounded by good-looking and kind-hearted men day in and day out will definitely fuck with your brain, your body, and eventually even your fucking heart.

Kim Namjoon, a tall, dimpled sweetheart of a man, acts as general manager. Namjoon typically resides in the back office of the restaurant running numbers and going over other business ventures. He used to frequent the front of the restaurant to check on customers, but Jimin has since banned him from that activity after the infamous Spaghetti Incident of 2019.

Park Jimin, as the overseer of staff and servers, commands the restaurant floor with a crinkly-eyed smile and a ferocious temper. Fortunately for his direct subordinates (READ: me), his temper is most likely to be focused on rude customers and his messy business partners. Jimin honestly is the ideal boss because he has our backs and will never hesitate to help anyone out.

Late one Saturday evening, a man refused to leave the restaurant after being cut off from his bar tab. Jimin full-on squared up with him in defense of the poor server who had to break the news to the drunk patron. Luckily, the Bistro’s head of security, Jeon Jungkook, took over before Jimin actually popped off.

Jungkook, as the youngest partner, is shockingly tall and muscular. He definitely provides the intimidation needed for those types of escalating incidents. Despite his tough exterior, Jungkook is a complete softie.

I once caught Jungkook in the kitchen after close attempting to make cookies for a girl he had a crush on. I walked in to see Jungkook standing over a tray of the unidentifiable charred monstrosities and pouting in the most ridiculous way. Needless to say, I helped him bake a new batch with the oven not turned up to 500 degrees so that “they would cook faster”.

Min Yoongi had found the pair of us bickering and had just rolled his eyes and scooped a mouthful of raw cookie dough. As the head bartender, Yoongi is the absolute best at mixing drinks and the absolute worst at customer service. I swear the man gets far too much pleasure from getting people thrown out. He’s also notorious for watering down the drinks of customers he doesn’t like. He’s petty like that. I live for it.

Once, Jung Hoseok tried to take a picture of Yoongi for the restaurant’s website, and Yoongi threatened to shove a sharpened cocktail umbrella through Hoseok’s eye. I had never seen the Bistro’s head of marketing and resident sunshine flee so fast. Hoseok later ended up using an old picture of Yoongi in retaliation; rumor has it Yoongi is still plotting his revenge to this day.

Kim Taehyung often grumbles about how he’s going to be put out of a job since the restaurant naturally provides daily entertainment. As the head of entertainment and events, Taehyung helps to secure live music and special guests. He’s also the most handsome man I have ever seen - with the exception of one Kim Seokjin.

Seokjin, as head chef, is responsible for planning the seasonal menus, overseeing the kitchen staff, and preparing the more challenging dishes. He’s even taken it upon himself to be the resident comedian, which the other six partners vehemently and openly detest. Still, that backlash has not stopped him from naming each evening special with puns. His last Seokjin Special was called “Chicken Pot Bye Felicia”. It had resulted in Yoongi banning Seokjin from the restaurant for a full week. He still hasn’t dared to make another pun, but I can tell it will only be a matter of time.

Basically, Seokjin is an entirely goofy and beautiful mess of a human. Yet, I can’t stop myself from falling deeper and deeper into the trap that is loving someone outside of your league.

When I first arrived at the Bistro for my inaugural shift, I was greeted enthusiastically by Jimin, who I’d met previously in my interview. Jimin had introduced me to each of his partners - each as handsome as the last. Honestly, my eyes and nerves had been exhausted after meeting almost all of them. Then Jimin had ushered me into the kitchen.

“Hey, Jin-hyung!” Jimin had yelled over the cacophony of sizzling pans and murmured conversation. I had watched in awe as the hottest man I’ve ever seen entered my line of vision and stopped before me. Tall and broad-shouldered, he had a face that could inspire priceless works of art with full pink lips, high cheekbones, and devilish dark eyes.

“You summoned me, Jiminie?” The man had laughed in a slightly squeaky manner before he noticed my presence, “Ah, who might this be?”

I had cleared my throat in hopes that my voice wouldn’t crack under the sheer weight of this man’s attractiveness, “Hi, I’m (y/n). I’m starting today as a server.” and thrust my hand out with a shy smile.

He had blinked. Slowly, a smirk eased onto his face as he grabbed my hand. Instead of shaking it, he had brought it to his lips. “A pleasure. I’m Seokjin,” he had murmured, lips brushing against my knuckles. My cheeks had felt like they were on fire as Jimin screeched at Seokjin for harassing me.

“It’s her first day, Jin! Lay off the theatrics,” Jimin had turned to me, “Sorry about him, (y/n). He’s a desperate flirt.”

“Desperate? Me?” Seokjin gasped, “Worldwide Handsome does not do desperate.”

“Did you just refer to yourself as ‘Worldwide Handsome’?” I had gaped at his open arrogance.

Seokjin proudly had puffed up his chest, “Yes. What else could I possibly be called?”

“Well, definitely not Worldwide Humble,” My mouth had said before my brain caught up.

The room had seemed to pause before Jimin erupted in peals of laughter as Seokjin spluttered, “Yah, Jiminie, you can’t let her talk to me like that!”

Still laughing, Jimin had choked out, “(y/n), you officially have a job here until you die.”

Ever since that first encounter, Seokjin and I have established a working relationship based on banter or what Tabby refers to as ‘flirting’. I refuse to believe that ridiculous notion.

Tabby finally finishes entering her order into the kiosk and turns to me, “So, any hot plans for tonight?” Her eyebrows wiggle up and down suggestively.

“Does solo Netflix and chill count as hot plans?” I deadpan as I peer around the server station divider to covertly check on my tables. I lock eyes on Chad and his fiancé, who already seem to be arguing, and I make an executive decision to not go check how their meal is going.

“No!” Tabby’s whisper-yell commands my attention, “That definitely does not count, (y/n). Why didn’t you find someone on Tinder? I even made you that bomb-ass profile.”

I pointedly look everywhere but at her.

“You deleted the app, didn’t you,” she glares at me, arms folded, “I slaved over that profile! There were only so many tasteful cleavage shots of my best friend that I could stomach in one sitting!”

“What the fuck, Tabby! Since when do I have any—”

“Tasteful cleavage shots?” Seokjin’s elated voice practically shouts from the kitchen, “Let me at ‘em.”

His hands launch towards us through the kitchen window and make grabbing motions.

“Seokjin,” I tsk mockingly, “Are you trying to grab my tits again?”

“Again?” Tabby cries, whirling on Seokjin, who looks at us in horror.

“I wasn’t! I swear! I just wanted to see the pictures! I didn’t want to grab your boobs…” He trails off, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like ‘not any more than usual, anyway’.

“Seokjin-hyung! (y/n)!” Jimin blazes into the service station, “I’ve had it up to here with your bickering. You’re both on closing duties tonight - alone.”

“What?” I exclaim as Tabby slinks away. Traitor. “We’re just joking with each other! Right, Seokjin?”

Jimin’s gaze swings from me to Seokjin, who is suddenly suspiciously calm. My eyes narrow. A silent conversation is definitely happening without my participation.

Finally, Seokjin just shrugs with a grin, “Sounds fair to me, Jiminie! (y/n) and I will work hard all night if we have to.”

“Fair?” I choke, “All night?”

Jimin, following Tabby’s lead, scurries away as my attention is diverted by Seokjin’s idiocy. “Scared to be alone with me, (y/n)?” Seokjin’s lips break into a sly smile, “Don’t worry, I don’t bite… much.”

With that parting remark, Seokjin winks at me and disappears back into the kitchen.

“Fuck me,” I breathe out. How would I survive this?

Five hours later, the last patron has been ushered out of the restaurant with the staff right on their heels. I curse as Yoongi waltzes out the door, fanning himself with a crisp fifty-dollar bill and winking obnoxiously. “Have fun!” He cackles, locking the restaurant doors behind him.

“No, please don’t offer to stay and help,” I grumble, sweeping stray pieces of lettuce out from under a table, “I am more than happy to stay here until the ass-crack of dawn with the biggest idiot on the face of the earth.”

“The biggest, huh?” The voice chuckles right in my ear, “How did you know?”

“Goddamnit, Seokjin!” I slap a hand to my heart, “Don’t sneak up on me like that, you oaf!”

Whirling to face him, I stutter to a halt. He’s taken off his heavy chef’s coat and is now left in a tight black t-shirt that clings to his body in a manner that has to be illegal.

I swallow hard, and for a split second, I swear Seokjin’s gaze latches onto my throat.

“Is it hot in here?” I mutter distractedly, tugging at the collar of my stiff white button-down.

“Yes,” Seokjin practically purrs, “It’s scorching.”

Choosing not to acknowledge him, I spin on my heels, grabbing the full dustpan of debris I collected and head towards the back of the restaurant.

Emptying the dustpan in the trash, I walk over to the supply closet to return the broom. The restaurant floor is finished. Now, I just had to see how much of the kitchen Seokjin actually cleaned.

Pushing through the swinging doors of the kitchen, I screech to a halt as I’m faced with a complete and utter miracle.

“What in tarnation?” I gasp, taking in the pristine kitchen full of glistening stainless steel and sparkling countertops. “Kim Seokjin!” I yell, “You damn wizard! How the fuck did you clean everything this fast?”

“You could say I was motivated,” his reply sounds entirely too close. I spin to face him and gape as I notice the bouquet of red roses that he’s holding out to me.

Taking in my speechless appearance, Seokjin smiles smugly and opens his mouth to continue.

I cut him off, “Tell me those aren’t the roses from the fucking table centerpieces... I threw those in the trash, Seokjin!”

His ears turn an alarming shade of magenta, “Yah, just accept the gesture, (y/n)! This is peak romance, you know!”

“They are covered in filth, dude!” I squint, peering closer, “Is that a piece of spaghetti in there?”

Seokjin yeets the makeshift bouquet back into the garbage, “Why can’t you just appreciate my efforts?” He pouts excessively, “Don’t you like me?”

Red alert. Red alert, my mind whirs.

“Sure,” I let out a nervous laugh, “We’re friends. Of course, I like you.”

He steps towards me, “Sure, we’re friends, (y/n), but friends don’t usually want to fuck each other.”

That bitch said what now?

“Did you inhale too much Clorox?” I panic, “Quick, how many fingers am I holding up?” Thrusting three fingers in front of Seokjin’s amused face, I widen my eyes as he suddenly grabs my hand.

“Baby,” he says lowly, sending a delicious shiver down my spine, “If you keep being so adorable, I may just have to keep you.”

Well, shit, okay. “Say less,” I breathe and then immediately slam my mouth shut.

I receive a classic Seokjin grin in return for my idiocy, and my knees shake. Honestly, who the fuck allowed him to be that devastating?

Slowly, his grin slips away, and his eyes ignite with raw desire, “Tell me what you want from me, (y/n).”

My mind short circuits, automatically reverting to my default mode of sass, “Uh, peace and quiet?”

“Really?” Seokjin murmurs, stepping even closer still, “So you don’t want me to kiss you? You don’t want me to turn you over and fuck you until you scream?”

My breathing is ragged. His eyes burn with a hunger I had never seen before, and I’m crumbling.

“Answer me,” Jin demands, desperation seeped in each word, “Please.”

“Seokjin—” I gasp, dumbfounded, “Where the hell is this coming from? We’re coworkers! You’re my boss!”

His eyes flashed darkly as he moved his head closer to mine, “That’s all irrelevant, baby.”

“Irrelevant—!” I stab a finger into his firm chest, “Oh, you little shit, you can’t just say that you want to fuck me and then say that our working relationship is irrelevant! I could get fired. You could get fired!”

“That’s highly unlikely given the fact that everyone else knows my plans to ask you out right now.”

“Hold on a second,” I narrow my eyes, “Are you saying that you purposefully planned for us to stay late tonight to clean the entire goddamn restaurant just so you could ask me out? Are you fucking insane?”

“I prefer the term ‘quirky’,” he quips, “But, yeah, I may have paid everyone $50 to leave us alone for the night.”

“Well, that explains Yoongi… that shady motherfucker,” I internally make note to plot my vengeance. “Why couldn’t you have just slid in my DMs like a normal person, Seokjin?” I groan, “I would have responded to a ‘you up’ with a ‘yes, come over’.”

Seokjin whips out his cell phone. “Does this apply to right now?” he asks, typing furiously.

My phone dings with several Instagram notifications.

hughchefner: u up

hughchefner: wyd

hughchefner: date me?

(y/n): bet

Seokjin’s eyes shoot up to mine after he reads my response, “Really? You agreed to date me by saying ‘bet’ in an Instagram DM?”

“Yup,” I shrug, “No take-backs. Also, to answer your previous questions: Yes, I do want you to kiss me with your insufferable mouth, and, yes, I do want to sit on your dick. Okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Say less,” Seokjin echoes my earlier statement and captures my mouth with his. I wrap my arms around his neck, kissing him back with equal fervor.

“(Y/n),” he groans right as my tongue swipes teasingly against his lower lip.

His hands slid down my body, pausing only to squeeze my waist gently before settling firmly on my ass. His fingers dig in hard and I let out an embarrassingly loud moan.

“You like that, baby? You like when I’m rough?” Seokjin pulls his lips off mine and murmurs sinfully, “God, I want to devour you.”

I lift my chin up and challenge, “Do it, you won’t.”

His eyes flare, “Oh, babygirl, you were made for me.” Seokjin’s lips return to mine, moving at a slow but ravenous pace.

Still kissing me, he picks me up and places me on one of the kitchen’s stainless steel counters. His hands grab my thighs, tugging them apart to make room for him to stand between them. A harsh groan rises from the depths of his chest as our bodies align.

I hook one leg around his waist and tug him closer still. Pulling my lips away, I lean my head back as I slowly trace his muscles through his shirt. He watches me with his puffy lips parted, his breathing hard. His eyes are wild and I’m loving every second of it.

The room suddenly feels too hot. My hands dart up to shakily begin undoing the buttons of my shirt. Seokjin’s eyes follow my movements with fascination. “Let me,” he purrs and proceeds to rip my shirt from my body. Buttons scatter on the floor with sorrowful little bounces.

“You bitch,” I yank his hair, “That was my good work shirt.”

“I’ll buy you ten more,” Seokjin’s voice is rough and full of desire as he takes in my lacy white bra. Suddenly, his mouth descends to suck at my nipple through the thin lace.

“Damn, you are so fucking sexy,” he pulls his mouth away, “Can I take this off?”

I nod like a bobblehead in 60mph winds, reaching around my back with one hand to undo the clasp and then throwing my bra clear across the kitchen. It lands on top of one of the fridges and I shrug. I’d retrieve it later.

Seokjin tugs off his own shirt, revealing planes of tanned skin. I don’t hesitate to run my hands up and down the definition of his abs and watch in fascination as his muscles constrict under my touch. I run my hands lower, tracing his defined v-line.

No wonder they call it the Adonis belt, I muse, pondering if he’d let me lick it.

Huffing in impatience at my slow exploration, Seokjin returns his mouth to my nipple and sucks hard. My eyes nearly roll into the back of my head. He bites down gently and then blows on my nipple slowly. I moan at the sensation. I watch him through unfocused eyes as his hand slides down the front of my body. He reaches the button of my pants and pauses.

Seokjin pulls his mouth away from my nipple, his lips swollen and pink. “You have to say yes, baby.” His breath hits my ear, making me shiver.

I hold out my hand for a high-five and declare, “We stan a man who asks for clear consent.” Chuckling, Seokjin slaps my offered hand and then links his fingers with mine.

“Also,” I continue, looking into his eyes, “It’s a fuck yes.” I pull our linked fingers close to place a kiss on his knuckles.

“Cute,” he grins, “Now, can I take off your pants?”

“Take off yours first,” I order.

“So eager,” he laughs, making quick work of his black jeans. My mouth instantly waters at the sight of his hard cock straining to be released from the confines of his bright red Versace boxer briefs.

“Why am I not surprised that even your underwear is extra?” I mumble, flicking the button of my pants open.

Laughing, Seokjin takes over, tugging my pants down my legs. He then pushes my matching white lace panties aside and cups my pussy, applying pressure. I roll my hips into his hand.

His fingers trace lightly up and down my pussy, before one dips inside me. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” he groans.

“Always,” I breathe out. Suddenly, he pulls his hand away from me. I pout. Seokjin laughs at my expression and then licks his finger.

“Jesus fuck, (y/n), you taste so sweet. Let me eat you out,” he pleads.

I smirk, saying, “I thought you’d never ask,” and then gasp as he kneels before me, grabbing my hips. Seokjin moves to tear my underwear off, and I’m quick to place my foot on his forehead to stop his approach. “I swear to god, Seokjin, if you rip these, I will get Namjoon to permanently ban Seokjin Specials.”

“You’re evil,” he grins, “I love it.” He makes a show of slowly taking my panties off before throwing them carelessly behind him. He then yanks the same leg I had used to thwart his panty-tearing plans and throws it over his shoulder before returning his fingers to my pussy. Seokjin’s thumb circles my clit while two of his fingers thrust into me at a maddening rate.

My fingers grip his hair when I finally feel his tongue licking up the juices that have started to run down my thighs.

After sucking what will probably become a massive hickey onto my left inner thigh, his tongue licks a path straight up my folds until it circles around my clit maddeningly. “Goddamnit, Seokjin, stop teasing,” my voice cracks in desperation, but my plea works. His tongue flicks at my clit lightly before his lips close over it and suck.

“Fuck,” I moan, “I think I like you eating me out more than I like eating your cooking.”

He pulls back to briefly land a light swat on my pussy and I choke on air as painful pleasure shoots through me. “Take that back,” he growls, “My cooking is second only to my handsome face.”

“God, I fucking hate you,” I drawl. The emphasis in my words portrays the exact opposite.

Seokjin sends me a shit-eating grin before his tongue returns to lick at my swollen clit, up and down, and then in a slow circle. His fingers brush open my folds just enough for him to sink his tongue into me. “O-oh,” I throw my head back, one hand moving up to pinch one of my nipples while the other latches back into Seokjin’s hair.

“I’m s-so close, baby,” my words slur as I shamelessly beg, “Don’t stop.”

He immediately pulls away.

“Oh, fuck you,” I seethe. I yank his head back by his hair until his neck is stretched in a long line. His hair is a mess, and I’ve never seen anything hotter.

“I just want to feel you come when I’m inside you, baby,” he smiles, my wetness glistening on his lips.

“Fine,” I shimmy off of the counter onto shaky legs, “Two can play at that game.”

“What?” Seokjin’s brows furrow in confusion.

It’s my turn to drop to my knees. “Oh, shit,” he curses as I tug his boxers down to reveal his hard cock. It’s silky and gorgeous, and I can’t stop staring at it. Seokjin, of course, notices. “You like my cock, babygirl? Take it. It’s yours.”

It already was, I think, as my gaze darts up to meet his.

Without breaking eye contact, I lick his reddened tip, almost moaning at his taste. “Fuck, babygirl,” Seokjin throws his head back. I smile wickedly. I could definitely get addicted to ruining this beautiful boy. “Look at me,” I command, feeling so powerful when he immediately listens.

Slowly, I suck down on his length, hollowing out my cheeks. My eyes stay on his as he groans, and I can tell he’s straining to keep from thrusting into my mouth.

“Please, baby, fuck—!” He moans as I swallow around him and then release him from my mouth with a pop. My hand darts up to grip him tightly, pumping him. Moving slowly, I suck one of his balls into my mouth, rolling my tongue around it gently. Seokjin chokes, “Fuck me.”

“We’ll get there, baby,” I tug my mouth away and grin up at him.

I suck him as far down as I can. His control snaps and he begins to thrust wildly into my mouth, panting.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” his eyes scrunch up as he chants, “I’m gonna come.”

I release him ruthlessly.

“Goddamnit,” he cries, “I knew that was coming, but it still hurts.”

“Well,” I wiggle my eyebrows at him, “If only you had a pretty little pussy ready for you to fuck… Oh, wait.”

Seokjin chuckles, “I see I wasn’t able to fuck some of the sass out of that mouth. We might have to try that again later.”

“Gladly,” I grin back at him, “You have a condom?”

Seokjin picks up his discarded jeans from the floor and digs around in the back pockets. “Aha!” He yells, hoisting up the glimmering gold foil in triumph.

I roll my eyes before snatching the condom from the idiot. Tearing the foil packaging open with my teeth, I grab Seokjin’s length and pump him a few times in preparation.

“Stop being a tease,” he mumbles, thrusting shallowly into my hand.

“Stop being so hot,” I challenge, leaning down to lick his pre-cum dripping from the reddened tip of his cock.

“Impossible,” Seokjin smirks before tugging me back up to face him.

He drops his lips to mine and sucks on my bottom lip. Pulling away slightly, he tugs at it in a stinging bite. Withdrawing his mouth from mine, he spins me around and bends me over the counter.

I feel the head of his cock running teasingly over the folds of my pussy and I gasp, “Please, baby, I need you inside me.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He thrusts into me in one sharp movement. We both gasp as he fills me, gliding in and out.

“Harder,” I moan.

“Fuck,” he mutters, “I’m trying to last over here.”

“Why? We have all night,” I pout before an idea pops into my head, and I taunt, “Wait, are you telling me you’re a one and done type of old man?”

“Oh, you’re going to regret that,” Seokjin mutters darkly.

His hard cock fills and stretches me, pleasure emanating within me from every sharp thrust of his hips.

“Your pussy is mine,” he growls, “I’ll fuck you from against the wall after this. I’ll fuck you until you can’t sass me anymore. And I’ll fuck you all night, baby, and every night after that.”

I clench around him as his dirty words wash over me. “Those are all great ideas in theory,” I gasp out, “But I really want to ride you first.”

“Oh, babygirl wants to fuck herself on my cock?” Seokjin slaps my ass before pulling out, “Well, come on.”

I stand upright and turn to see him walking towards the large island in the middle of the room. He hops onto it and lays down, placing one arm behind his head, and the other one slowly strokes his cock.

“You better get that hand off your cock before I decide to never let you into my pussy again,” I say darkly as I move towards him.

His hand flies off his dick at the speed of light, his eyes wide as they focus on me.

When I get close enough, I climb up onto the island and kneel with one leg on each side of his tapered waist. I slowly sink down so that just his tip is inside me and squeeze.

A garbled moan escapes Seokjin, his hands shooting out to grab my waist in an attempt to push me down further.

“Someone’s eager,” I whisper, bending down to press a quick kiss to his lips.

“I’ve been fucking eager since you were hired.” He smacks my ass and then groans as I reflexively sink down another inch.

“Yeah?” I question, sinking down another inch as his eyes squeeze shut, “You should have said something sooner, baby. I could have been riding you hard for months.”

Seokjin pouts, “Well, there’s no time like the present?”

“God, you’re such a dweeb,” I grin before taking him to the hilt. We both let out strangled breaths as I shift slightly, before placing a hand on his neck.

Keeping my hand there, I lift up and begin riding him hard. My body slides up and down onto his cock at a fast pace. Sweat drips down my back. Seokjin grabs my ass, his fingers gripping my skin, and pounds up into my pussy with brutal and possessive force.

“O-oh, fuck.” There’s something about riding Seokjin that just feels so good. My hips swivel and roll against his. The pleasure steadily builds, and I try to distract myself by biting down on Seokjin’s neck.

“I’m gonna come,” he moans, “Are you close?”

I pull away from his neck and sit up, arching my back to give him a deeper angle. He thrusts up into my g-spot and I gasp, “Shit, yes, I’m close. Come with me, baby.”

I clench my walls around him. Seokjin’s eyes are scrunched shut as he continues to pound into me with harsh strokes.

He shifts one hand from my ass to gently circle my aching clit, and I light up. My walls clench and pulse, locking down on Seokjin so tight that he comes, his hot seed filling the condom as he shudders.

I collapse against him and shove my face into his sweaty neck.

I can feel his laugh bubbling up from his chest before I hear it. “What’s so funny?” I ask, lips brushing his skin.

“Namjoon’s going to kill us for the number of health code violations we just committed,” his laughter causes his cock to shift within me, and I bite back a moan.

“Well,” I lift my face up from his neck to look at him, “We have nothing to lose at this point then, huh?”

I slowly lick my lips, and his eyes drop to them. The only noise left in the restaurant is our heavy breathing. “Round two in Namjoon’s office?” he suggests.

“Bet.”

a/n: this was so fun to write :) hope you all enjoyed it! happy valentine’s day!

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

#fwlproject #luvlibrary #bangtanhq #bangtanarmynet #btsbookclub #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #hyunglinenetwork #ksj #ksj x reader #seokjin x reader #jin x reader #bts #bts smut

[jaskierswolf]

You Set My Heart Ablaze Pt. 16/25

Previous __________________

It was mid-April when Geralt walked into the station, after dropping Ciri of at school, to find a huge banner hung in the breakout room. The word ‘INTERVENTION’ was scrawled in red paint across sheets of paper that had been stapled together.

Geralt almost turned tail and ran from the station.

He didn’t need a fucking intervention.

He was fine.

This was Vesemir’s fault for going on leave. Geralt was starting to wish he’d joined him. Vesemir had taken a trip to the coast, near Cintra, to go fishing. He’d asked Geralt if he wanted to go along but Geralt didn’t want to take Ciri out of school to go on a fishing trip that would most likely bore her to death. She was off school next week anyway, the start of the Beltane Holidays.

“Fuck off!” He snapped at his team mates as he shoved past them to the locker room to get changed.

“It’s for your own good, Geralt!” Eskel called after him.

Geralt muttered the words under his breath and scoffed. He was fine. Yes he’d been hurt when Jaskier had decided to practically ghost him out of the blue but really he should have expected it. Jaskier had said so many times that what they were doing was strictly on friendly terms. Not a single phone call or coffee date went by without Jaskier reminding Geralt of that fact.

He’d pushed too far.

He’d let his feelings get out of control and Jaskier had gone for a clean break. It was less messy that way. Geralt couldn’t begrudge him that.

The thing that was confusing him was Jaskier’s apparent reaction to the whole thing. Coën had spoken to him after school a couple of weeks ago and mentioned that Ciri thought that something was up with Jaskier. He’d tried to ring the teacher but he hadn’t picked up. Not that Geralt had really expected anything different, by that point Jaskier had been avoiding him for about three weeks.

He’d sent an email to check in with the teacher instead, noting that Ciri was worried about him. Jaskier should have appreciated Geralt’s efforts to make it about Ciri, but the reply he’d received was a curt assurance that the teacher was fine and that he was just tired, along with an apology to Ciri and a promise to hide it better in future.

Ciri had never mentioned it again so Geralt had assumed that Jaskier was alright.

Until that morning.

Jaskier was on morning playground duty this week.

And he looked like shit.

There was small selfish part of Geralt that desperately hoped that it was the break in their friendship that had caused such a change in the man.

He shook his head. Perhaps Eskel was right. He did need an intervention. He sighed as he finished changing into his uniform and strode back into the break room as he was pulling his hair back into a bun. “Fine. Go on.”

Renfri cackled and pulled the screen down on the wall that Vesemir used for training days. Lambert clicked the button on the projector and Geralt groaned as the picture slowly faded into view.

It was a picture of Jaskier, a headshot taken from the school’s website. Geralt knew that because he’d checked website earlier that morning to make sure he’d gotten the dates for the school holidays right.

It wasn’t his fault that he’d accidentally clicked on the staff page.

His fingers slipped.

The slide show was titled ‘how to get over your daughter’s teacher.”

“Very funny.” Geralt muttered under his breath.

Renfri wrapped her arms around his neck and then grinned as she twisted to ruffle his hair. “We only want what’s best for you Ger-Bear.”

“Get off.” He grumbled and tried to escape her grip. Once he’d finally ducked out of her arms he turned round to the team with what he hoped was a convincing smile. “I appreciate the concern but honestly I’m fine.”

“You look like someone shot Roach in front of you.” Eskel raised an eyebrow at him.

“And then forced you to eat her.” Lambert added.

Geralt grimaced. “Why am I friends with you?”

“I’m delightful.” Lambert smirked.

Geralt frowned, remembering a similar conversation he’d had before.

“What?!” Lambert groaned. “Seriously! What did I say?”

Eskel shrugged and Renfri watched Geralt suspiciously. “Geralt?”

He grunted.

“Please tell me that you’re not sulking because Lambert said something that Jaskier would say.” She put a hand on his shoulder but he didn’t meet her gaze.

He shrugged her off. “I’m fine.” He insisted and stalked into Vesemir’s office.

With the chief gone, Geralt had been asked to step up for the week and make sure all the piles of paperwork didn’t build up. It also meant that he got to hide out in the office away from the others which suited him just fine.

The projector had been turned off by the time he’d left his office for his morning tea break but in its place was a bundle of paper, printouts of the slides. He sighed and scooped them up before putting the kettle on. His friends were only trying to look out for him and he could admit, in the privacy of his own mind, that he’d been sulking. More than anything he was just pissed off at himself for letting his walls down, and he was angry that it was suddenly so much harder to rebuild them again. Why couldn’t they just snap back into place? He could go about his day with his job and his friends and his family.

Jaskier’s face was smiling up at him from the sheet of paper.

“Fuck!” He cursed and typed out a text to Coën, asking the teenager if he wouldn’t mind staying a little longer with Ciri this evening.

A few minutes later his phone beeped and he let out a breath of relief when he read that Coën had agreed to stay for an extra hour. He quickly replied to thank Coën. Honestly, the kid was a lifesaver. Geralt wouldn’t have been able to stay at work without him. He’d considered finding a way to work from home when Ciri had first arrived, he was pretty handy at DIY and there was a time where he’d thought about making a business out of restoring and fixing up damaged furniture, even odd jobs round people’s houses whilst Ciri was at school, working to his own schedule.

But the fire station was his home, they were his family.

He’d been too selfish to give that up and in the end it had worked out for the best. Ciri now had a family beyond Geralt which was important for the young girl who had lost everything.

He sighed as he finished his tea, it was still too hot and burnt the back of his throat but he didn’t mind. It was better than cold tea and he had work to do. The breaks always went too fast and the day always went too slow.

He avoided his colleagues for the rest of the day whenever possible, luckily for them it was a slow day and most of the call outs were false alarms. Eskel and Renfri had a tough call at a fatal car accident and they were pretty shaken for the rest of the day after that but the team banded together and they moved on.

They had to.

It was the job.

When the handful of full-time cats turned up for the nightshift, Geralt felt a prickle on anxiety tickle up his spine. He was exhausted and this had all seemed like a good idea at the beginning of the day when he still had hours to go.

But now.

Now he just wanted to fuck it all and go home to Ciri.

He ran through the handover quickly before escaping to his truck. He sat in his truck for at least five minutes, his head resting on the steering wheel before he swore under his breath.

“Fuck, Geralt. Get a grip!” He turned the key in the ignition and pulled out from the station.

He considered dropping into a petrol station on the way but decided that would be too cheesy.

Jaskier would probably like cheesy though.

But they weren’t dating and couldn’t be dating so cheesy was out of the question.

“I’m just making sure he’s alright. Friends do that.” Geralt grumbled at he drew up in front of the block of flats, thankfully not on fire this time.

He peered at the keypad at the front of the door looking for the right number.

5D.

That was seared into his mind forever more.

He took a deep breath and pressed the buzzer, ignoring the rising wave of panic in his chest. The building was not on fire and Jaskier was not in danger. He didn’t need to kick through the door. He wasn’t in uniform and there was no smoke billowing from the windows.

“Hello?” Jaskier’s voice crackled from the intercom.

“Jaskier?” Geralt asked. “Can I come up?”

There was brief pause and Geralt stared at the keypad, willing for Jaskier’s voice to come out, as if staring at it would make it happen sooner.

“Fuck. Fine. Yes.” Jaskier sounded tired but the door buzzed and Geralt opened it before Jaskier could change his mind.

The lift would be too slow, he decided, so he ran up the stairs taking them two at a time. He slowed to a brisk walk as he walked through the corridor. It would be a bit much, even for him, to run down the corridor.

Jaskier was waiting for him, leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

He looked… lifeless.

Geralt had never seen the teacher so flat before. He was normally brimming with life, dancing around with sparkling eyes, never really staying still.

“Jask.” Geralt breathed as their eyes met.

Jaskier frowned and looked away. “This is not appropriate, Geralt.”

“I know.” He sighed. “I know.”

“Why are you here, Geralt?” Jaskier asked, still looking at his feet.

Geralt desperately wished that the man would look at him. “Honestly?”

Jaskier huffed, sounding somewhat amused by the question. “Normally helps.”

Geralt swallowed. This was a terrible idea. He was not good at this, not good at finding the words that were enough. All the feelings swirling inside him like a storm. How could words ever be enough? Jaskier normally understood this and he’d gotten pretty good at translating Geralt’s hums and grunts in the past but now that wouldn’t be enough.

He needed words.

Jaskier needed words.

“Take your time.” Jaskier said quietly with a tilt of his and finally looked Geralt in the eyes.

Geralt felt the tension leave his body as he let himself get lost of the cornflower blue of Jaskier’s eyes. A weight he didn’t know he was carrying was lifted from his body.

He took a deep breath. “I.” He cut himself off with a growl. Why was this so hard? “I don’t understand.”

Jaskier raised an eyebrow. “You don’t understand what, Geralt?”

“We were friends.” Geralt tried to explain. “And then we weren’t.”

Jaskier sighed and moved from the doorway, gesturing for Geralt to follow him.

Geralt looked around the flat. It was good to replace the memories he had of the place. He took in all the details he could, Jaskier’s instrument collection propped up against the walls covered with a thin layer of dust, a thick soft looking rug underfoot and picture frames scattered all over the walls with no particular care of placement. The kitchen was small and led straight into the lounge area. Jaskier’s furniture was a mess of different styles but somehow he managed to make it work and Geralt couldn’t imagine it any differently.

“Drink?” Jaskier asked as he shuffled awkwardly in the middle of the room.

Geralt consider it but shook his head. “Fine thanks.”

“I’m going to have a glass a wine. Do you mind?” The teacher asked as he moved towards the kitchen. Geralt shook his head. “Good. Please, sit down.”

“Jaskier.” Geralt sighed in exasperation as the man flitted about the flat, but he did as he was told and perched on the edge of the sofa. He waited for Jaskier to come back into the living area, a large glass of red wine in hand. “Jaskier, what’s been going on?”

Jaskier was tapping his fingers against the glass nervously, glancing around the room and looking anywhere but at Geralt.

“It’s not your fault, Geralt.” He finally answered.

Geralt laughed. “I never said it was, now stop making this seem like a bad rom-com and answer the question, Jask.”

Jaskier giggled at that and the sound brightened the room considerably. “I suppose it was a bit like a bad rom-com, wasn’t it? It’s not you, Geralt, it’s me!” He laughed.

Geralt laughed with him and their eyes met once more. “Is this the part where I declare my undying love for you and beg you to take me back?” He teased.

Jaskier froze.

Fuck.

Too far.

Why did he always take the joke too far?

“Don’t joke about that, Geralt.” Jaskier’s voice wavered and there was something indescribable shining in his blue eyes.

Geralt furrowed his brow as he took in the teacher’s reaction.

The realisation hit him like a ton of bricks.

Jaskier wanted that.

He wanted Geralt.

His body moved without his permission. He stood up and crossed the room in a heartbeat, his hands cupping Jaskier’s cheeks as he pulled the brunet into a kiss. It felt like all the air left him as their lips met. He hadn’t how much he had needed this, needed Jaskier. It wasn’t until Jaskier’s lips were on his that he realised the true depth of his feelings.

It was like the heat of fire after being caught in the middle of a blizzard. Hot, blistering and burning into his soul.

Jaskier whimpered against his lips and they both jumped apart at the sound of breaking glass. Red wine was running over the floor and soaking into the rug.

Jaskier glanced down at the mess of broken glass and back up at Geralt with wide eyes. They stared at each other, their breaths the only sound in the flat, before Jaskier lunged forward and captured Geralt’s lips in a bruising kiss. Geralt pulled Jaskier closer to him, after the distance between them the last few weeks he needed to feel the brunet pressed up close to his chest. Geralt’s hands drifting down to Jaskier’s ass. He smiled against Jaskier’s lips as the man squeaked when Geralt gripped his ass.

“Geralt!” Jaskier whined.

“Hmm?” He buried his nose in Jaskier’s neck and inhaled the soft chamomile scent.

Jaskier tugged at his hair and pulled him in for another kiss. Jaskier’s lips were cracked from where he’d been chewing on his bottom lip but Geralt couldn’t care less as he bumped his nose against Jaskier’s. It was messy, it was needy…

It was somehow still perfect.

They were lost up in the moment, caught up in each other as the world around the faded away.

All Geralt knew was Jaskier as their lips moved together, tongues dancing as the kiss deepened. It felt like Jaskier was reaching into his very soul. They broke apart, panting and gripping tightly onto each other’s shirts. Jaskier was first to catch his breath and he laughed as he pressed his forehead against Geralt’s.

“Well, that was…”

“Hmm.” Geralt agreed.

“Not that I’m complaining or anything but…” Jaskier pulled back slightly and rested his hand on Geralt’s cheek.

Geralt couldn’t help but lean into his touch. It had been so long since he’d felt like this for anyone, since he’d allowed himself to be vulnerable. “I love you, Jask.”

Jaskier smiled sadly and pressed his lips to Geralt’s in a chaste kiss. “I love you too but…”

Geralt groaned and pulled away from the teacher. “Don’t say it.”

“We can’t.” Jaskier pouted. “Geralt you know we can’t. That’s why…”

“Why what?” Geralt snapped.

“It’s why I had to, you know. I couldn’t bear to be around you and not have you.” Jaskier stepped forward with a heartbreaking expression on his face.

Like Jaskier was begging Geralt to understand.

He didn’t.

“You could have had me, Jask. Fuck!” He yelled and spun around in frustration, his finger pinching the bridge of his nose. He counted a few beats in his head and sighed, turning back round to face Jaskier. “I’m not. I’m not good at this but I thought I was being pretty obvious.”

Jaskier’s face fell. “Oh dear heart.”

“Don’t.” Geralt growled. “Don’t kiss me like that and then tell me we can’t do this.”

“I’ve hurt you.” Jaskier sighed and sat down on the sofa. “I’m sorry, darling.”

Geralt down next to him, he couldn’t help it. He was drawn to Jaskier, even if he was angry at the teacher. Jaskier seemed to have the same problem. He rested his head on Geralt’s shoulder and his hands landed on Geralt’s legs.

“I didn’t come here to kiss you.” Geralt admitted.

Jaskier laughed. “Oh?”

“I just needed to know why you were avoiding me.” Geralt sighed as he laced their fingers together. “I couldn’t understand what I’d done wrong. I thought maybe I could apologise?”

Jaskier shifted next to him so that he was kneeling on the sofa facing Geralt, a hand on his cheek. “Dearest, you did nothing wrong.”

“Hmm.” Geralt replied, not believing Jaskier. Of course he’d done something wrong. There was no other reason for Jaskier to pull away from him so suddenly.

“I was scared, Geralt.” Jaskier admitted. “We have the board breathing down our necks at work, three teachers suspended for misconduct.”

Geralt opened his mouth to speak but Jaskier’s finger on his lips stunned him to silence.

“Let me finish, dear.” Jaskier pleaded.

“Fine” Geralt mumbled against Jaskier’s finger.

“Good.” Jaskier bopped him on the nose and Geralt wrinkled it in surprise. “Three teachers suspended for misconduct,” He repeated, picking up his train of thought. “and then you came in with the lunchbox and well…” Jaskier trailed off and smiled dopily at Geralt. Geralt laughed and bumped his forehead against Jaskier’s gently. “Well, I realised that I was unreasonably in love with you.”

Geralt hummed and pulled him into a kiss. How was he supposed to resist the teacher when he said things like that?

He felt Jaskier’s smile against his lips as the brunet pushed back against his chest. “I wasn’t finished!”

Geralt smirked and tilted his head at the teacher.

“No. Stop it. Stop looking at me like that.” Jaskier pouted.

“I’m not looking at you like anything.” Geralt chuckled.

“Yes you are!” Jaskier poked him in the chest. “It’s all very…” He waved his hands in Geralt’s general direction. “distracting!”

“So you realised you were in love with me?” Geralt grinned, prompting the teacher to continue his story.

“Yes and,” He paused “then I remembered that we were supposed to just be friends and with teachers getting suspended left right and centre I just. I couldn’t risk it! I couldn’t do that to my kids, Geralt. I couldn’t do that to Ciri. She’s lost too much already.” Jaskier was staring at him with wide eyes and jutting out his bottom lip.

Geralt frowned at the words. “You did it for Ciri?”

How could he argue with that?

Jaskier was right. If he was suspended or fired because Geralt couldn’t control himself. Ciri would lose her teacher and she adored Jaskier. All of the buttercups did.

“I did it for all of my buttercups.” Jaskier amended. “Ciri included.”

“Fuck.” Geralt groaned and pressed his palm against his forehead.

“But I hated it, Geralt.” Jaskier shifted forward and took Geralt’s hands in his. “I missed you, Melitele knows I missed you. I missed the sound of your voice, I missed your laugh, I missed the way your lips quirk up in that little half smile.”

Geralt scowled. “I don’t do that.”

“You do.” Jaskier insisted. “and I missed your eyes. Gods, Geralt. Do you even know how beautiful they are?”

Geralt scoffed.

“Geralt!” Jaskier whined. “Beautiful.”

“Hmm.” Geralt rolled his eyes.

“I never wanted to hurt you.” Jaskier sighed. “Forgive me, darling.”

Geralt searched Jaskier’s eyes with his own, trying to find an answer to a question that he didn’t understand. He only knew that the answer was in Jaskier’s eyes. He tilted his head as he tried to comprehend what was really going on between them. They were fighting, but then they were kissing, and then fighting again. They couldn’t be more than friends but they loved each other but Jaskier could lose his job but the never-ending terms of endearment.

Was love always this fucking confusing?

He thought back to his relationship with Yennefer and decided it probably was.

“Geralt?” Jaskier asked quietly. “Please.”

He sighed, knowing he wasn’t able to answer the question yet. He didn’t have enough information to make the decision yet. “What happens next?”

“What?” Jaskier asked, his voice cracking.

“We can’t date, Jask. You were right. It wouldn’t be fair on the kids, on Ciri, if someone found out.” Geralt scowled.

Why did it feel like they were breaking up again before they even got started?

“I know.” The teacher sighed and buried his head in Geralt’s shoulder. Geralt instinctively moved his hand to thread his fingers through Jaskier’s soft hair. “It’s not fair.”

“No.” Geralt agreed. “It’s not. So what happens now?”

“I can’t pretend that I don’t love you, Geralt.” Jaskier moaned into his shirt.

Geralt laughed and gently pulled Jaskier up so he could see his face again. The brunet was pouting.

Gods, those lips would be the end of him.

He didn’t know what else to say so he did the only thing he could think of and kissed them.

Jaskier fell back onto the sofa and pulled Geralt on top of him. Geralt straddled Jaskier waist and he kissed him like his life depended on it. They wouldn’t have tomorrow, they only had today.

This moment.

This was it.

He couldn’t waste it.

He wouldn’t waste it. Not now that he had Jaskier in his arms, his lips captured by his own.

“Jaskier?” He asked, his voice a low growl. “Stop me.”

Jaskier laughed breathlessly, his face was flushed and his pupils were blown wide so there was only a slither of cornflower blue. “Like fuck I will. Shut up you brute and kiss me!”

So he did. ________

Next

#the witcher #geraskier #you set my heart ablaze #geralt/jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #teacher!jaskier #fireman!geralt #modern au #sorry this chapter is late! #wolfie's witcher writing

[wistfulcynic]

all the perfect things (that i doubt)

SUMMARY: Zelena is defeated and Emma returns to her quiet life in New York with Henry, leaving Killian brokenhearted and her feelings for him unresolved. Three years later they meet again and quite a lot has changed—but will these changes push them further apart or help them find their way back to each other?

Canon divergence with no time-travel adventure.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @ohmightydevviepuu! You are brilliant and amazing and a fantastic writer and a kind friend, and so to honour the anniversary of your birth I have attempted to fill this VERY LONG one-shot with all the things you like best. There’s angst and second-chance romance and people needing to sort their shit out before finding their way back to each other and angst and emotions and erotica and did I mention angst? There’s also Tinkerhook and Captain Cobra (implied, but very much there) and oh yeah it’s a 3B divergence. AND the title comes from a song! I’ll Be Good by Jaymes Young, which is just about the most Killian thing to ever Jones. I hope that it leaves your boxes thoroughly ticked. 

Much gratefulness to @thisonesatellite​ and @katie-dub​ for invaluable suggestions and encouragement ❤️❤️❤️

Rated: M Words: 20k Tags: canon divergence, angst, smut, angst with a happy ending, minor mentions of suicidal thoughts

On AO3 

-

all the perfect things (that i doubt)

Emma parked her bug in front of the red brick row house and got out, hiking her tight skirt inelegantly as she did and teetering a bit on her towering heels as she climbed the steps to the small porch. She went inside and shut the door behind her, then leaned back against it with a small sigh. It was weird being back in Boston after three years in New York—four, really, if you counted the year she and Henry had spent there without their memories—and she hadn’t quite adjusted yet. New York was pretty much home now, or at least that’s what she regularly told herself, and Boston was… well…

Boston didn’t feel like home but it did feel familiar, the uncomfortable familiarity of something—or someone—that knew her far better than she wanted them to. Emma didn’t like places that knew her too well any more than she liked people who did. It was one of the reasons she’d chosen to sublet a place in Brookline—that and the generous relocation allowance her bail-bonds firm was paying—and even though she had to drive into the city every day to help set up the firm’s new Boston branch, coming home every night to a place that wasn’t technically Boston offered at least a small respite. 

She hung her keys on a hook by the door and kicked off her heels, flexing her toes in relief. It was only a six month placement, she reminded herself. Six months to get the new office up and running, then she could go back to New York and be comfortably anonymous again. 

“Mom, is that you?” Henry’s voice called and Emma grinned, following the sound into the living room. 

“Were you expecting someone else?” she teased, collapsing onto the sofa next to her son and putting her feet up on the coffee table. “How was the first day at the new school?” 

Henry closed the book he’d been reading and turned to her, his face lit up with excitement. “Fine, fine, the school’s good and kids seem cool, but Mom! You’ll never guess.” He bounced in his seat, almost vibrating with eagerness. Even at fifteen Henry hadn’t lost the enthusiastic nature she’d found so hard to resist in the ten-year-old who’d first come to find her in this city. Despite his occasional bouts of teenage sullenness. 

“Guess what?” she asked, smiling at him. 

“Guess who my astronomy teacher is.” 

“You’re taking astronomy?” 

“I need a science and it’s better than chemistry.” 

“Well, that’s true.” 

“It’s also not important,” said Henry, impatiently refocusing the conversation back to his question. “Guess who my teacher is! You never will!” 

“Um, Carl Sagan?”

“Mom, he’s dead!” 

“Oh.” Dammit, thought Emma. She’d been pleased with herself for managing to come up with the name. “Um, who’s the other guy? Neil something Tyson?” 

“Neil deGrasse Tyson, and no, come on, you’re not even trying.” 

Emma sighed. “Henry, I genuinely have no idea. Why don’t you just tell me?” 

“It’s Hook!” 

“Hoo—what?” Emma stared at him as her heart stumbled then began to pound. He couldn’t possibly mean Hook Hook, could he?

“Captain Hook!” Henry confirmed, and Emma’s heart took off at a gallop. “He calls himself Killian Jones of course and he doesn’t wear the hook anymore but it’s still definitely him! I couldn’t believe it!” 

“But I thought…” She took a deep breath to calm herself. “Isn’t he living in Storybrooke?” 

“That’s what I said! I mean, I’ve never seen him there but I just kind of assumed. But he said no, he’s lived in Boston almost three years!” 

“You—you talked to him?” Breathe, Emma.

“Well, yeah.” Henry shrugged. “It would have been rude not to. He didn’t exactly seem thrilled to see me, but he was nice. He said not to expect any special treatment in class though if I remembered what he taught me about using the sextant that one time it would be helpful. I mostly remember, so…” 

Henry chattered on and Emma tried her best to listen but her mind couldn’t focus. She felt breathless and chaotic, buzzing with confusion and with a strange eager excitement. Hook is here, was all she could think. Here. Here in Boston. Where she was. Here. Close by. Possibly very close. Her heart felt like it was trying to escape her chest, and she pressed the heel of her hand against it.

He was Henry’s teacher. Hook was a teacher. She tried to imagine that and found to her surprise that it wasn’t actually all that difficult. Obviously he wouldn’t wear his pirate coat in the classroom like in the image her frazzled brain insisted on conjuring, but he’d always been so good with Henry, she could easily imagine him teaching other kids.  

And he’s here, her brain kept reminding her. Here. Where you are. You can see him. You can see him. You can see him…

“…and he’s actually a really good teacher, he explains things so well.” Henry was still talking. “He says he teaches math too, I’m actually thinking I might try doing pre-calc with him, you know I wasn’t going to take that until we got back to New York, but I think he might be able to help me, and…”

“That’s great, kid.” Emma felt bad interrupting him when he was so excited but she couldn’t handle any more talking about Hook or thinking about Hook teaching Henry or about him talking to Henry or really just any thinking about Hook at all. “What do you want for dinner?” 

Henry’s eyes lit with a different sort of enthusiasm and Emma hid a grin. How to distract a teenage boy 101: Offer him food, she thought.

“Pizza from Dino’s,” said Henry decisively. “But since that’s not possible, how about something Boston-y that we can’t get in New York?” 

“Like what?” 

“How should I know, I’ve only been here once. You’re the one who used to live here.” 

“Um, baked beans? Clam chowder? Lobster roll?” 

“Pah,” he scoffed. “I can get lobster rolls in Maine.” 

“Well, how about clam chowder then?”

Henry looked dubious. “Okay,” he said. “I’m willing to try new stuff while we’re here. But if it’s gross, it goes on the list forever. Deal?” 

Emma laughed. “Deal.” 

…

Later that night when Emma finally gave up after hours of tossing and turning in her bed, kicked off the covers and went to her laptop, she knew what she was going to do. She didn’t exactly like it, but she knew it, and as she opened the website for Henry’s school she didn’t hesitate. She clicked on ‘Staff Directory’ and scrolled through the list of teachers’ names and then she caught her breath. 

It wasn’t that she hadn’t believed Henry, just that in the first flush of shock at hearing his name again she hadn’t really been able to process the reality of Hook being here, in Boston, in a normal place with a normal job and presumably a normal life. Not until she actually saw his name, right there on the screen, with her own eyes. 

Killian Jones. Mathematics and Astronomy. Latin Club. Debate Team.

With slightly trembling fingers she clicked on it, releasing the breath she’d been holding and gasping in another immediately after as her heart stumbled once more and began to pound against her ribs. The picture was in black and white and tiny, just a thumbnail, but it was unmistakably him. Still with the scruff though his hair looked neater, no eyeliner of course but he’d kept the earring—a small stud barely visible in the tiny photo. And somehow, somehow he still had that look in his eye… the one that promised excitement and adventure and fun… Emma squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head to clear it. When she opened them again the look was still there. His students must love him, she thought. What kid wouldn’t want a pirate as their teacher?

She closed the school’s website and opened the professional one she used to dig up information on her skips. Using it to investigate anyone else was unethical enough that she could be fired for doing it but she was prepared to take the risk. He was teaching her son, she told herself. She had information about him that the school district did not. She had to make sure he wasn’t still doing… pirate-y stuff. Yeah, that was it. That was the reason.  

Ten minutes later she had his home address and cell number, his personal email and links to his social media accounts. Or rather, his account. Singular. He didn’t have Facebook or Twitter, which wasn’t particularly surprising she supposed, but he did have Instagram. She clicked on the link and a small smile curved her lips as her screen filled with images of the Massachusetts coastline.

He liked to take pictures of the sea. This was also unsurprising. But although various boats and ships featured prominently in many of his photos none of them were the Jolly Roger, and that did surprise her. What had he done with his ship, she wondered. Probably left it in Storybrooke; it wasn’t like he could sail a pirate ship around Boston harbour. Though he had sailed it to New York… She frowned. Hook loved that ship, it had been his home for literal centuries. Emma couldn’t imagine him just leaving the Jolly and moving someplace else. 

It was just… weird, the whole freaking thing. Hook’s presence here, his job, the quiet life he seemed to be living, his absent ship. It was a mystery, and mysteries had never sat well with Emma. Before she could talk herself out of it she copied his home address and pasted it into Google Maps, and when the results appeared on the screen she gave a wry snort. He lived a few blocks away from her sublet. Because of course he did. 

Good, she thought. It was good that he lived so close. That way, when she went to his house to confront him tomorrow she’d be able to walk there and pick up some dinner on the way home. 

…

Hook, as it turned out, lived in a very nice house on a very nice street in a very nice neighbourhood. A very nice neighbourhood, Emma thought, looking around as she strolled down the sidewalk trying to look casual and not as out of place as she definitely felt. Quiet and well-kept, with tall trees and flowers and carefully tended lawns. Not at all the kind of place you’d expect would appeal to a fairy tale pirate. 

His house was made of red brick in a sharp and tidy style, with white-framed windows and black shutters and a white portico with actual freaking columns at the top of the red brick steps. It was completely bizarre to think of him living there but also made an odd kind of sense. The house’s unfussy symmetry and clean colours gave it a nautical sort of air, and aside from a few shrubs on either side of the porch the lawn was neatly kept but bare. He’d always kept things neat, she remembered. 

 Emma’s heart was galloping again, her hand trembling as she rang the bell. She could hear it echo through the house and panic gripped her chest, and she wondered wildly if it was too late to turn around and run away. Then the door swung open and her mind went blank. 

His eyes were exactly as she remembered them, as blue as the ocean he so loved and just as deep, their expression shuttered now but still compelling. Still beautiful. They stared at each other for a breathless moment as she scrambled to think of something, anything to say to him, then he stepped back and held the door open. 

“Come in, Swan,” he said, and her heart beat even faster at the sound of her name in his voice, “I’ve been expecting you.” 

“You—you have?” 

“Aye.” He smiled wryly. “Ever since Henry appeared in my class yesterday. I knew your curiosity wouldn’t allow you to stay away for long.” 

He ushered her into a living room that was as tidy as his cabin on the Jolly Roger had been, with broad-planked hardwood floors and one wall lined with bookshelves. A large, comfortable-looking sofa sat at the centre of the room and Killian gestured to it. “Have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee, tea, beer?” 

“Beer.” Emma latched on to the idea of alcohol like a lifeline. “I think I could use one.” 

“Aye,” he replied. “As could I.” 

He disappeared through a door in the corner of the room as Emma sank weakly onto the sofa and tried to calm her frantic heartbeat. A minute or two later Hook returned with two brown bottles, handed one to her then sat on the opposite side of the sofa and took a long drink from the other. Emma drank as well, surreptitiously studying him from the corner of her eye as she did. 

He was wearing jeans. Well-worn, soft looking ones. And a t-shirt in a similar condition with ‘Boston College’ across the front in faded letters. 

“Boston College,” she blurted, desperate to fill the stretching silence. 

“Pardon?” 

“Your shirt. Boston College.” 

“Oh, aye.” He looked down and shrugged. “Where I studied.” 

“But—you didn’t,” said Emma, feeling thoroughly off-kilter. “You couldn’t have. Did you?” 

“Obviously I didn’t,” he replied. “But I have both memories and official documentation that says otherwise. Courtesy of Tink.” 

“Tink?” Emma frowned, both at his words and the nasty tendril of jealousy that curled in her gut. 

“Indeed. She gave me what I needed to start a new life in this realm. Much as Regina once did for you.” 

“But—Regina did that for me as part of a curse. How did Tink… for you..?” 

He shrugged again. “Damned if I know. I try not to ask too many questions where magic is concerned. We… rekindled our old companionship after you left. She knew I wanted to leave Storybrooke and once her magic was fully restored she offered to help me do that. The results are as you see. She gave me what she said was the same realm-specific knowledge Regina gave the Storybrooke residents she cursed, along with an identity and accompanying memories so I could get a job outside of Storybrooke.” 

“But—” Emma’s head was spinning, the jealous tendril writhing like a snake. “Why did you want a job outside of Storybrooke?” 

“There’s nothing for me in that town,” he replied, in echo of the last time they’d sat like this, drinking together. “Why would I stay?” 

“Well… I mean…” 

He drank again, deeply, and she tried not to watch his throat work as he did. “I saw an opportunity for a fresh start in a new place,” he said. “One that thinks Captain Hook is an object of ridicule with a perm and a waxed moustache.” He smirked wryly though anger flared in his eyes. 

“You saw that, did you?” 

“And read the book.” He drank again. “And as much as I may like to wring the neck of this J.M. Barrie, he did in a roundabout way afford me the chance to slip unnoticed into this realm and become someone new. And so I did.” 

“I’ll say you did. A high school teacher?” 

“And why not?” he challenged. “You’ve said yourself I’m good with children. And I enjoy it. It’s honest work, and rewarding.” 

Emma shook her head, struggling to get to grips with everything he was saying and everything she was seeing in him. He looked so familiar; even with the drastic wardrobe change his face and his hair and his voice were all just as she remembered. But he was different. A kind of different that couldn’t be explained away by the knowledge Tink had given him or his new life. His face and eyes were so expressionless, his body language cool and distant. She couldn’t detect event the smallest hint of the flirtatious pirate who used to invade her space whenever he could, always challenging her, always understanding her, always watching her with that unnervingly intense focus—like he wanted to uncover every inch of her. That man seemed so thoroughly absent from the one now sitting opposite her that for a moment Emma wondered if she had imagined him.

“Well, you seem to be good at it,” she said brightly. “Henry can’t say enough good things about your class. He’s thinking of taking another one with you, actually. Pre-calculus.” 

“Aye. I’ve already approved his request. He’ll start tomorrow.” 

“So are you as good a math teacher as you are an astronomy one?” She made her voice light, teasing, edging into flirtatious, hoping to draw out the pirate—even just a brief glimpse of him, just for a moment. Hook’s face remained impassive.  

“I do my job to the best of my ability in every class I teach,” he replied, then drained the last of his beer and set the empty bottle on the sea chest in front of the sofa. Emma sipped hers, feeling cold and confused and with a sharp ache of loss in her chest.  

Hook leaned back against the arm of the sofa and gave her a hard look. “So is your curiosity appeased, then, Swan?” he asked. “Do I pass muster? May I be allowed to continue with my job and my life?” 

She frowned, hurt by the harsh sarcasm in his tone. “I didn’t come here to—to investigate you,” she said, forgetting that this was the exact excuse she’d given herself for her visit. “I just wanted to see you.” I’ve missed you, she did not say. I thought maybe you’d missed me too. 

“And now you have,” he replied. “Is that all?” 

“I—I guess so.” Emma put her own beer on the table though the bottle was still mostly full. “I guess I’ll be going.” 

“I’ll see you out.” 

He could sound less eager about it, she thought, following him to the door. He opened it for her and she looked at him again, at this man so familiar and yet so strange, and realised that even though he was standing right in front of her she still missed him. She missed him. 

On impulse she leaned in close and wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly and kissing his cheek. His scruff was surprisingly soft beneath her lips and she heard him catch his breath, felt him flinch as if to hug her in return then stop himself. She lingered as long as she dared before stepping back, and when she looked into his eyes again she caught her own breath. 

There was the heat she’d started to think she had imagined. Heat and longing and that edge of danger that even a black and white thumbnail photo couldn’t disguise. In that split second he looked like he wanted to devour her, his breath hot on her cheek as he leaned closer, his eyes blazing with everything she had missed about her pirate. 

Then he blinked and his eyes were shuttered again. He grabbed her arms roughly, pulling them from around his waist and shoving her away, towards the open door. “Well, thanks for stopping by, Swan,” he said, not looking at her. “So nice to see you again. Tell Henry I said hello and not to forget his astronomy homework. Goodbye.” He shut the door behind her and she heard the click of the lock turning.

She fought the urge to cry all the way home. 

…

Killian leaned back against his front door and slowly slid down it, squeezing his eyes shut and letting his head drop into his shaking hand. Tremors racked his body and his chest was so tight he struggled to draw in gasping breaths. 

Three years. Three years since she’d left Storybrooke, left him, returned to the life she’d had when she couldn’t remember him and never looked back. Three years since she’d shattered his heart. 

Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, he thought bitterly, she walks into mine. He should have taken that job in Montana instead. Emma would surely never show up there. 

Of course, he hadn’t thought she’d show up here either, not in this city she’d already lived in and left. Emma wasn’t the sort of person to go back to places—or people—she’d put behind her. He’d thought he was safe here. 

It seemed he’d thought a lot of things that weren’t actually true. That he could withstand seeing her again, for one. That he was prepared. He’d coached himself, steeled himself, buried his feelings deep and locked them away. And all it took was one brief press of her body against his, one gentle brush of her lips across his cheek to break right through his carefully constructed defences and reduce them to dust. 

Tears prickled behind his eyes and he blinked them angrily away. He would not weep over Emma Swan, he told himself firmly, not again. Not today. Instead he would pull himself together again just as he had in Storybrooke, as he did every time thoughts of her overwhelmed him, and he  would get on with his life. Now that she’d seen him surely her curiosity would be assuaged and she wouldn’t return. He could find his peace again. 

…

The next morning Killian walked to work, a thing he did as often as possible. It wasn’t that he disliked driving, quite the contrary in fact. Cars, in keeping with many of the mechanical innovations of this realm, fascinated him, and aside from his house his car was the one possession in which he had truly indulged. 

In the staid upper-middle-class neighbourhood where he lived his sleek gunmetal-grey Aston Martin was almost acceptable, not outrageous enough to give his neighbours anything to actually complain about but more than sufficient to irk them in a way they couldn’t quite articulate when he zipped along their tree-lined streets with the top down. Had they known that the money he’d used to buy it was ill-gotten pirate treasure magically converted into the currency of their realm, they would have been even more displeased. The thought of that delighted Killian nearly as much as the car herself. 

And his car did delight him; the powerful hum of her engine and the way she responded to the smallest twitch of her wheel was the closest thing he’d yet found in this world to standing at the helm of the Jolly Roger in full sail. He’d purposely chosen a convertible for the feel of the wind through his hair, and as often as possible he took her out of the city, driving far too fast along quiet country roads and almost hoping the local police would catch him doing it. 

Once a pirate always a pirate, at least in some small ways. 

But still he preferred to walk to work. Idling in traffic was an insult to his car and a waste of her skills and anyway the walk was not a long one—hardly more than a good stretch of the legs, as Liam would have said. It took him barely twenty minutes along the shortest route and less than half an hour even if he stopped for coffee first.  

That morning, he stopped for coffee. He’d not slept well, too plagued by thoughts of Emma and then by dreams of her to manage any real rest. His eyes felt gritty and his head ached, and though the walk in the brisk morning air cleared some of the cobwebs from his brain it hadn’t made much of a dent in anything else. 

He ordered his usual black coffee and a not-so-usual blueberry muffin. The intense sweetness of breakfast foods in this realm he didn’t generally care for but this morning he needed a boost of something and sugar seemed as good a thing as any, despite the inevitable mid-morning crash it would bring. There were always donuts in the staff room, perhaps later he’d finally give one of those a try. Anything to get him through this day. 

He took his coffee and the bag with the muffin from the barista with the best approximation of a smile that he could manage and wished her a good day. She blushed. 

“Thank you, sir,” she said, and Killian shook his head as he turned to go. When had it come to pass that he, the erstwhile Captain Hook, was referred to as ‘sir’ by sweet and blushing young women? Probably right about the time he’d stopped calling himself Captain Hook. 

Still, the blush and her shy smile brightened his mood and he was just thinking that perhaps this day might not end as dreadfully as it had begun when he walked through the cafe’s outer door and straight into Emma. 

Coffee sloshed from his cup and onto his hand and he barely managed not to drop it or his muffin as he caught her around the waist with his prosthetic before she could fall, hissing in a breath at the feel of her pressed against him for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. She gave a small cry and grabbed his shoulders for balance, her eyes wide and startled. 

“Hook!” she gasped. 

“Killian,” he snarled, using the arm around her waist to steer her out of the path of the other people trying to get into the cafe. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t use that name anymore, particularly not in public,” he hissed, low for her ears only. 

“What, you think someone’s going to recognise you?” She smirked. “You don’t have enough hair for that.” 

“This isn’t a joke, Swan,” he said harshly. “I’ve left that man and his name behind me, and I don’t particularly care to be reminded of them.” Her fingers flexed on his shoulders and with a start he realised that they were still standing close together, his arm tight around her waist. He released her and stepped back so abruptly she stumbled, and cleared his throat before he spoke again. “What are you doing here, anyway?” he asked, though he had a terrible suspicion he already knew the answer. 

“Getting coffee,” she replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “This place was recommended in all the neighbourhood guides.” 

Neighbourhood bloody guides. “So you live nearby, then,” he said through gritted teeth. 

“Yep. About three blocks that way.” She gestured vaguely behind her. “I’m working in Boston, though. Setting up a new office of my bail bonds firm. What about you?” 

“You know where I live.” 

“Yeah, but I mean are you headed to work already? Isn’t it a bit early?” 

“The school day begins at 7.30, Swan, as I would expect you to know, being the parent of one of my students,” he said shortly. “And I am now officially running late. If you’ll excuse me.” He turned to go. 

“Killian.” Emma caught his arm and he flinched, both from the feel of her hand on him and the way she said his name. 

“What?” he snapped. 

“Can we—look, can’t we just—” 

“Spit it out, love.” He risked a glance at her, his fingers tightening on the muffin bag as their eyes met. 

“Can’t we be friends?” she burst out. “Please?”

 He stared at her for an incredulous moment and then the fury he’d been so carefully holding back exploded in his chest. He rounded on her, backing her up against the fence of the cafe’s outdoor seating area, keeping his voice low so as not to draw attention, spitting the words in her ear. 

“No, Swan, we cannot be friends,” he hissed. “We have never been friends.” 

It was far too tame a word, he thought, too tame a concept to ever encompass the complex tangle of emotions that Emma inspired in him. They had always been both more than friends and a good deal less, and as far as Killian was concerned she’d thrown away the more when she turned her back on him three years ago. The less was all that remained. 

They were standing much too close again, close enough that he could see the flecks of gold in her eyes and hear the rasp in her breath and he was so tempted, so bloody tempted to give in. To agree to be her friend and anything else she wanted, to accept whatever scraps of affection and attention she was willing to spare him and be grateful for them. But he’d accepted those terms before and they had all but broken him. 

With a massive effort he reined in his anger and stepped back, drawing a deep breath to calm himself. “As it appears that we are neighbours of a sort, I don’t doubt we’ll see each other around,” he said. “When that happens I will nod politely to you and exchange pleasantries about the weather and Henry’s progress in school and perhaps the latest performances of Boston’s various sports teams. Beyond that I can’t imagine that we would have anything to discuss.” 

He spun on his heel and stalked away, leaving her leaning against the fence, trembling and once more on the verge of tears. She stared at the door of the cafe for a long moment before turning away, no longer hungry but with an aching emptiness inside her that she had no idea how to fill. 

…

As he had predicted, Emma ran into Killian everywhere she went, or at least that’s how it felt. After their third encounter at the cafe—each at a different time—she’d started arriving early and lurking in her car until she saw him leave before venturing in herself. Even with that precaution she still spotted him at the grocery store and at the bank, and at the only pizza place in town Henry deemed acceptable as a temporary stand-in for Dino’s. He was everywhere she turned, nodding civilly at her each time they met and making a bland remark, his face and eyes so expressionless it made her want to claw at something. Preferably at him. 

Finally after two awkward weeks Emma found a welcome distraction, a temporary one but at least it was something to take her mind off Killian for one night: a skip that was a perfect target for a honey trap of the kind she hadn’t pulled in far too long. Anticipation buzzed in her veins as she approached the restaurant where they were set to meet, a swankier one than she usually preferred for these sorts of things but the skip was a banker who was clearly out to impress. 

Emma was out to impress too, in a dark red strapless dress that hugged every curve and heels that made her legs look endless. Her hair was perfectly curled and her makeup on point, and she flashed a smile at the doorman as she strode in, feeling slightly reckless and more confident than she had in some time, and completely failing to notice the woman standing just inside the doors until she’d bumped into her. 

“Oh, sorry!” she said, catching the woman’s arm as she stumbled. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.” 

“No problem,” replied the woman with an apologetic laugh. “I probably shouldn’t be standing in the doorway, but my boyfriend’s running late which is really not like him, and I’m not entirely sure what to do with myself while I wait.” 

She was a very pretty woman in a wholesome sort of way, with golden brown hair and dark blue eyes, and a warm smile that Emma couldn’t help responding to. 

“Well I hope he turns up soon,” she said, smiling back. 

“I’m sure he will,” replied the woman. “Have a great night!” 

“You too.” 

The skip was waiting for her at the bar, with a martini for himself and a glass of white wine for her. Emma ground her teeth behind a brilliant smile. Men who ordered for women without consulting them were the worst kind of assholes. She was going to enjoy nailing this fucker’s balls to the wall. 

“White wine!” she exclaimed, settling gracefully onto the barstool next to him and crossing her legs, making sure a generous portion of thigh was on display. “How’d you know?”

“I know what the ladies like,” he replied with a smirk he probably thought was charming. 

“You sure do.” Emma picked up the wine glass and took a sip, not missing the way his eyes lingered on her mouth as she did. She set the glass down and ran her fingertip along its rim, looking up at the skip through lowered eyelashes. “So tell me about yourself,” she cooed. 

“Well, I work for the biggest bank in the city…” he began, and Emma widened her eyes in feigned interest. From the corner of one of them she caught sight of the woman from earlier approaching a small table not far from the bar, accompanied by a dark-haired man who had his hand at the small of her back and was leaning down to whisper in her ear. Emma smiled to herself, glad that the woman’s boyfriend had finally showed, and then she got a good look at him. 

Killian. 

Emma’s heart stumbled and she froze, her eyes fixed on the couple as they arrived at their table. The woman was holding a pink rose, sniffing it with a soft smile as Killian pulled out her chair for her and kissed her cheek as she settled into it. He spoke a few words to the hovering waiter who nodded eagerly and scurried away, then sat down next to the woman and took her hand, lacing their fingers together and murmuring something that had her blushing and sniffing the rose again. 

My boyfriend’s running late… my boyfriend… boyfriend… the woman’s words rang in Emma’s ears as she watched them. They looked comfortable together but still with an undercurrent of excitement, like the relationship was new but not too new. Killian must have been dating this woman for at least a few months. Long enough for her to know that it wasn’t like him to be late, and not to feel insecure when he was. Long enough for her to casually call him her boyfriend. 

The waiter reappeared with a bottle of wine and a small vase for the rose. The woman laughed when he set it down in front of her and the look she gave Killian made Emma’s heart ache. The waiter poured their wine and they clinked their glasses together, then settled into what appeared to be easy and pleasant conversation. 

Killian looked… not precisely happy, Emma thought. But he looked content. Relaxed and at ease in a way she’d never seen him be before. He smiled often as the woman spoke and there was no flirtation in it, no smirk or leer or defensiveness. Just simple smiles from a man enjoying the company of his date. 

“Hey,” said the skip, snapping his fingers in front of her face. “You’re not even listening to me.” 

“Sorry.” Emma dragged her eyes away from Killian and tried to focus on her mark. She needed to stay sharp to spot the moment when she could jump in and cuff him with the least amount of fuss. It would be better if she could get him outside first; he looked like a runner and although she’d taken the precaution of clamping his car she didn’t really want to cause a commotion in a restaurant this nice. He started in again boasting about his job and she did her best to appear attentive but she couldn’t keep her eyes from darting back to Killian. That woman had seemed so nice, sweet and friendly and she didn’t even know who he was, thought Emma with a burst of anger. She didn’t know anything about him, not about his past and the terrible things he’d done… or about the losses he’d suffered… the way he could read her like an open book… how he used to look at her… the way he kissed…

Oh she knows exactly how he kisses, whispered a nasty little voice in the back of her head. And a lot more.   

Emma snarled at that thought, clenching her fist on her wine glass so hard that the stem snapped and its jagged point sank deep into her palm. 

“Ow!” she cried, loudly enough that several people at the neighbouring tables turned to stare. She didn’t look at Killian—she couldn’t—but she could sense his eyes on her and for a crazy moment she wished she still had magic and could disappear in a puff of smoke. 

“What the hell,” said the skip, glaring at her. “What is wrong with you?” 

“Nothing! I just—it just broke.” 

“You’re bleeding everywhere.” His lip curled in disgust but he made no move to help her. 

“Sorry,” she said. “I—I’m sorry.” 

“Fuck this,” said the skip, tossing back the rest of his drink and standing up. “You’re really hot but no lay is worth this much effort.” He tossed some money on the bar and walked away. 

“No—wait!” Emma tried to follow but as soon as she stood up a jolt of pain shot through her hand and made her woozy. Her wound was bleeding profusely now, dripping into the spill of white wine on the bar and turning it pink. The bartender was frantically trying to mop up the mess with one hand and waving a handful of cocktail napkins at Emma with the other. 

“Ma’am…”  he said faintly, “please don’t bleed on the upholstery…” Emma took the napkins and tried again to pursue the skip. She squeezed the paper against her palm in an attempt to stop the bleeding but her wound twinged agonisingly under the pressure and she stumbled, crying out again, and then a warm hand gripped her elbow. 

“Swan,” said Killian’s voice in her ear. “Let him go.” 

“No—he’s a skip—he’ll get away—” 

“You can’t chase him down with a bleeding puncture wound on your hand,” said Killian impatiently. “Let him go. You’ll get him another day.” 

Emma looked up at him, her head spinning from the combined effects of pain and blood loss, and his touch on her skin. He eased her back onto the barstool and she didn’t protest, sitting quietly as he took the napkins and dipped them into a glass of water he must have brought from his own table. Cradling her hand in his prosthetic one he gently dabbed the blood from her wound, easing out a tiny shard of glass that had been lodged within it. 

“You should get this seen to properly,” he said, his voice deep and gruff. “But I suppose you won’t.” 

“I hate doctors.” 

“Very understandable, but it might get infected. At least wash it well when you get home.” 

“In rum?” she challenged, hoping to rile him. He didn’t look up. 

“No need,” he said. “A good antibacterial soap should do the trick.” 

He finished rinsing the wound and set the used cocktail napkins aside, pulling a large cloth one from his pocket. She caught her breath as he wrapped it several times around her hand and secured the ends in a tight knot. His new prosthetic moved, she noted vaguely. Much more useful than a hook. No need to use his teeth. 

“There,” he said, stepping back. “That should do it.” 

Emma’s chest was aching, her mind whirling with how familiar and yet how strange this felt. Never, in all the times she’d thought of him over the past three years, not once had she imagined a situation in which Killian Jones didn’t flirt with her. Didn’t challenge her. Didn’t even fucking look at her. Flirty Hook she could handle, and cocky Hook. Even hot as fuck Hook breathless and wrecked after their kiss in Neverland she could handle. But this calm and controlled man who bandaged her hand without once looking at her face, this man she absolutely could not. She had no idea even what to say to him.

“I guess you think I should thank you,” she snapped. Her pain and confusion were too raw, too much for her to process right now. Anger was easier. It was hot and clean and she had more than enough to spare. 

Anger flashed across Killian’s face as well and she felt a perverse thrill at the sight of it. Good, she thought, he should be angry. She wanted to make him furious. 

“Don’t trouble yourself,” he snarled. “I have no need of any gratitude from you.”  

She hissed in a breath sharp with hurt and they glared at each other, the air thickening with the tension between them, brittle and volatile and unbearable.  

“Killian,” said a small, quiet voice, and they both turned to see the woman standing awkwardly a few feet away, twisting her hands together. “I’ve paid the bill,” she said. “I—I’m going to go.” 

The anger drained from Killian’s face, replaced by regret and guilt and a deep sorrow that made Emma feel ashamed. “Aye,” he said. “I’ll accompany you.” 

For a moment Emma thought the woman would refuse, but then she gave a small nod. Killian offered her his arm and she slid hers through it, and they left the restaurant together, not looking back. 

Emma shifted uncomfortably, feeling as if a million eyes were watching her. She swept the room with a defiant glare and as soon as Killian and the woman disappeared through the doors she headed towards them herself. With any luck she’d still be able to catch the skip before he could get the clamp off his car. She hoped so. She hoped he ran when she confronted him. She hoped he fought back and gave her an excuse to punch him in his stupid smug fucking face.

…

Killian dropped Anabel at her door with a kiss on the cheek and an apologetic smile, hating himself for the hurt confusion in her eyes. 

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said, squeezing her hand. She gripped his fingers hard. 

“Who is she?” she whispered. 

Guilt stabbed at him, followed by suffocating regret. He genuinely and deeply cared for Anabel, and he’d tried so bloody hard to be happy with her. He was almost happy, as close as he could remember being for the best part of three centuries, and so naturally he’d gone and buggered it the first chance he got. One glimpse of Emma pale and bleeding had wiped Anabel and his hard-won contentment and every other bloody thing clean out of his mind, and he had acted without a thought for anyone but her. 

“Someone from my past,” he replied. “I haven’t seen her in years. I thought I’d put her behind me but—” 

“You still love her,” said Anabel flatly. It wasn’t a question. 

Killian sighed. He really didn’t want to talk about this here, or now, or ever, but he owed Anabel the truth. 

“I don’t know how to stop.” 

She nodded, blinking hard as tears filled her eyes. He pulled her into his arms, tucking her head against his shoulder, soothing her as they fell. “I’m so sorry, Bela,” he said softly. “I care so much for you and I truly thought that we could—” 

She pulled out of his embrace and shook her head. “Don’t,” she said. “Don’t make any decisions now. Sleep on it. Talk to her, figure out whatever needs figuring. I’ll wait.” 

“I couldn’t ask you to—” 

“I’ll wait, Killian.” She leaned up and kissed him softly on the lips. “You’re worth it.” 

…

You’re worth it. Those words followed Killian home, chased him through his door and straight to his stash of rum. He’d mostly given up drinking it, needing to be sharp for his classes and limiting himself to a beer or two when he wanted to relax, but there were times that simply called for the hard stuff. 

He poured himself a generous glassful and tried not to let the words ring in his ears. You’re worth it. It was worrying, how hard such things still were for him to hear. No one had thought him worth much of anything for so long that he’d come to believe it himself. To internalise it, in the terminology of this realm.

He knew of course that he had some good qualities. He was intelligent and quick to learn, resourceful and decisive and courageous. A man couldn’t survive centuries in command of a pirate crew without at least a few of those attributes. But they counted for little when his shortcomings were constantly cast up at him by the one person he most wished to impress. Well you are a pirate… I’ve got magic, he’s got one hand… let me guess, with you?

Emma had certainly never thought he was worth much. Not worth staying in Storybrooke for. Not worth taking a chance on. Not worth loving. 

While he, fool that he was, could never stop loving her. 

He was deep into his fourth glass when his doorbell rang, and he knew without even looking who it was. Ignore it, whispered his sensible voice in his ear, but Killian was too drunk and too angry for the sensible option. 

The moment the door swung open Emma charged in, shoving him back and slamming it behind her. She rounded on him, fisting her uninjured hand in his shirt collar and pulling him against her. 

“I lost my skip because of you,” she hissed. 

In her heels and his stocking feet they stood eye-to-eye, pressed together from chest to knee, and every nerve in Killian’s body screamed in pleasure at the contact. He grabbed her hand and yanked it off him, pushing her away so forcefully she nearly fell. “You lost your skip because you broke your glass,” he snapped. “It was nothing to do with me.” 

“You distracted me. While I was working.” 

He glared at her. “What are you on about? I was having dinner, or about to—”

“You were flaunting that woman—” 

“Flaunting?”

“With the rose and the pulling out her chair and—” 

“That is simply how I treat the women I date, Swan,” he said, stepping closer to her again, backing her against the wall.  

Emma’s cheeks flared bright pink but she didn’t back down. “What, even when I’m not watching?” she sneered. 

“I wasn’t aware you were watching tonight!”  

“Oh, like you didn’t notice me as soon as you walked in.” 

Her breath was coming in short pants, the tips of her breasts brushing against his chest with each inhale, and his lust clawed inside him like a living thing desperate to get out. Killian leaned in until their lips were almost touching, torturing himself with her little gasp and the way her eyes darkened. “No, actually,” he growled. “I didn’t.” 

He pushed away from the wall and smirked at her. “I know this is difficult for you to grasp, love, but not everything in my life revolves around you,” he said harshly. “Until two weeks ago I thought I’d never see you again.” 

“Oh, so you just happened to be out on a date at the same place I was?” 

“That place being my girlfriend’s favourite restaurant, where we’ve dined many times before, you mean?” 

Emma’s lip curled. “Your girlfriend—”

“Aye. Of nearly a year.” 

“—you expect me to believe that Captain Hook has a girlfriend?” 

“No, Killian Jones has a girlfriend,” he hissed, stepping closer again. “What, Swan, did you imagine I would pine away in celibacy forever because you wouldn’t have me?” 

“Of course not! That was never—we were never—” 

Abruptly all his anger, his frustration, his lust, the electric thrill of sparring with her again drained away, leaving him numb but for the gnawing ache in his heart. “Indeed,” he said, and turned away. “We were never.” 

“That’s not what I meant, Killian.” 

“Isn’t it?” 

He stalked into the kitchen and retrieved his glass of rum, tossing it back and refilling it with a hand that was not quite steady. Before he could pick it up again Emma appeared at his elbow, whisking the glass away and taking a long drink. 

“Help yourself, love,” he snarked. She handed the glass back to him and he drained it, setting it down on the table. She refilled it without a word and took another drink. He sighed. 

“Why are you here, Swan?” he asked. “What do you want from me?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Fury licked at him again. “You don’t know,” he hissed. “Is that so? Well perhaps I can enlighten you.” He took the glass from her and emptied it, then slammed it down. “You wanted to make sure that I was still your faithful pet,” he spat. “That I would still come running the moment you crooked a finger, desperate for any scrap of your attention—”  

“That’s not true—”

“—despite your utter rejection back in Storybrooke and your complete lack of interest in me or my life in all the time we’ve been apart.” 

“I asked about you, or I tried—” 

“You tried.” 

“Yes! Every time I talk to my parents I ask—well, not ask but I try to—I thought you were still in Storybrooke!” 

“And so you thought you’d just use your parents to check up on me? And it never struck you as odd that they didn’t know anything?” 

“I just—I couldn’t—” 

“You couldn’t ask them directly because then they would know you were curious,” he concluded. “And we couldn’t have that, could we darling?” 

She grabbed the rum glass and refilled it. He watched as she tossed it back, wishing he could ignore his body’s reaction to her—that constant itch to touch, to trace the curves outlined by her clinging dress and sink into the softness of her hair. He still remembered how it felt beneath his fingers in Neverland, the taste of his rum on her tongue… he wanted to taste it on her again, to lick the traces of it from her lips and then deep into her mouth, wanted to rip that dress from her body and plunder her. The dark heat that flared in her eyes as she caught him staring, as she let the rim of the glass trail across her lower lip, said she knew exactly what he was thinking and she wouldn’t stop him. That she wanted everything he did. 

Slowly she set the glass down and stepped closer, close enough that he could smell her hair and feel her breath against his cheek. His cock was rock hard and he cursed it, cursed his helplessness to resist the pull she exerted on him. His hand curled around her waist without his permission, and when a small, satisfied smile curved her lips it slid down to grip her arse and pull her tight against him. 

She stiffened and for the briefest moment he thought she might pull away, and then she moaned and rolled her hips and he was lost. His arm wrapped around her waist as hers curled around his neck, he plunged his hand into her hair and she tugged at his, bringing their lips together in a clash of heat and lust and fury. She tasted just as he remembered and this time he chased it, battling her for control of the kiss. If they were going to fuck like this, he thought, in anger and animosity and not lovingly, reverently as he had so often dreamed… if they were going to fuck, they were going to do it his way.  

He slid his hands beneath her dress and hooked the index finger of his prosthetic beneath the thin strap of her thong, snapping it easily. She gasped against his mouth and he chuckled darkly, trailing into a groan as his fingers found the slick heat between her legs. She was so soft and so bloody wet—wet for him—that his head spun and his knees went weak, and he forgot his anger and their fight and sought only to pleasure her, pushing two fingers inside her and stroking her clit with his thumb, thrilling to the sound of her low moan and the sharp pain of her fingernails digging into his arms. 

He tugged her head back and trailed his mouth down her neck as his fingers worked inside her, dragging the neckline of her dress down with his teeth until her breast was freed then swirling his tongue around her nipple. 

“Oh, fuck,” she gasped. “Hook.” 

He jerked away like she’d doused him in ice water, his anger flooding back. 

“No,” he hissed. “Killian.” 

Emma’s eyes flashed defiance, “Hook,” she insisted, scraping her fingernails down his chest, popping buttons as she went. He knocked her hands away with his prosthetic and backed her up against the kitchen counter, his fingers still inside her, squeezing his hand to grind the heel of it hard against her clit, wrenching a helpless moan from her.   

“You want Hook?” he snarled. “Do you?”

“Yes!” 

“Well, you can’t have him. It’s me or nobody and I swear by all the gods in the heavens, Swan, if you call me by that name again I will kick you out of my house as you bloody are.” 

She glared at him, chest heaving, and he could see how badly she wanted to defy him. He prayed he’d have the strength to carry out his threat if she did. Their harsh breaths sounded unnaturally loud in the stillness of the kitchen until Emma bucked her hips against his hand and conceded. 

“Killian, then,” she said, grudging but breathless, like the name was an intimacy that she resented but also craved. He pressed her clit harder and she moaned again. “Killian,” she breathed, and it sent a spear of pure lust through him. 

He pulled his hand from between her legs and stepped back, holding her gaze as he put his fingers in his mouth and sucked them clean. “My bedroom is upstairs,” he said. “First door on the left.” 

Her eyes flashed again and then she straightened up, reached behind her back and in one quick movement unzipped her dress and shimmied free of it, smirking when he hissed in a breath at the sight of her naked body. She stepped out of the pile of fabric, still in her heels, and tossed her hair over her shoulder. 

“I’ll be waiting,” she said, and sauntered from the room. 

Killian ground his fist into the countertop and forced himself to count to sixty before following her. 

When he arrived she was sitting on his bed, leaning back on both hands with her legs crossed, one shoe dangling from the tip of her toe. He stopped in the doorway and feasted his eyes on the sight of her toned limbs and smooth skin as he slowly undressed, not missing the catch in her breath when he undid his trousers. 

“Curious, love?” he taunted. 

“Very.” 

He pushed the garments down, trousers and underpants together, smirking as her eyes widened and she drew a deep breath. 

“Well,” she purred, “you did promise I’d feel it.” 

He ignored the stab of anger, bit back the retort that it was Hook who’d told her that, and put a swagger in his hips as he closed the short distance between them. She sat up eagerly and reached for him but he caught her hand and held it back. 

“I want your mouth,” he said. “No hands.” 

She shot him a venomous glare but complied, laying her hands flat on the bed as she took his cock in her mouth, swirled her tongue around the tip then sucked hard. He clenched his teeth against an aching moan, wove his fingers through her hair and tried not to perish from the sheer pleasure of living out one of his favourite fantasies. 

She took him deep in her mouth, alternating hard suction with lazy strokes of her tongue and quick scrapes of her teeth until he couldn’t take any more and pushed her away, shoving her back onto the bed where she lay panting and looking very pleased with herself. 

“Too much?” she taunted. 

“For now.” He leaned over her, running his hands up the insides of her thighs and spreading them wide, then slipped his arms beneath them and buried his face in her cunt. She gave a strangled cry as he licked through her folds then sucked on her clit, pressing the tip of his tongue hard against it. Her hips bucked as she tried to push them up against his face but he held her down, licking her far more gently than he knew she wanted and forcing her to accept it. 

“Damn you, Killian,” she snarled, clutching at his head. He laughed and she gasped at the feel of the vibrations on her swollen flesh, then moaned when he resumed his onslaught, as hard as she liked this time, licking and sucking her roughly until she lay teetering just on the edge. 

“No…” she whimpered when he pulled away, blindly reaching for him as he leaned across her to yank open a drawer on his bedside table and withdraw a condom. He handled it with practiced ease, holding it securely in his prosthetic and tearing the packet open with his hand. 

Emotions flitted across her face as she watched him, anger laced this time with a touch of hurt. The hurt cut deep into his heart and made him furious. She really did think she’d had him on such a leash that he wouldn’t sleep with anyone else after she rejected him, he thought, giving her a nasty leer as he rolled the condom down his length. Her nostrils flared but she didn’t look away, and when he finished she grabbed his shoulders and shoved him onto his back, straddling him, kissing him roughly and digging her fingernails into his skin as she positioned his cock at her entrance and took him inside her.  

They groaned together at the sensation, the tight, slick squeeze of it. He thrust up as she ground down, groaning as she tilted her hips and arched her back to take him deeper, dragging her sharp nails down his chest. 

“Ugh that’s so good,” she moaned, and as they found their rhythm and began to move in perfect tandem Killian could only agree. Emma's head was thrown back, her hair curling wildly over her breasts and down her back, her muscles squeezing him as they rocked together in the most glorious dance of his life, and had he not already been as deeply in love as a man could be Killian knew that he would have fallen then. His hurt and anger ebbed away and he lost himself in sensation, in the indescribable bliss of sinking into the woman he loved and feeling her clenched tight around him, the sound of her sighs and moans in his ear. It was a feeling he never thought he’d know again after Milah, and certainly never dreamed he might know it with Emma. 

You don’t, he tried to remind himself. This is only sex. She doesn’t love you. She never will.   

He didn’t care about that though; in this moment with this woman he couldn’t care. He could only feel, and make the most of this one chance to feel these things with her. 

Emma’s breaths grew faster, harsh and short and catching in her throat, and as her rhythm began to falter he could tell that she was close. Gripping her arse tightly he flipped them over until she was spread out beneath him. She hummed in approval and hiked her leg up over his hip as he thrust in deep, driving her hard into the mattress over and again until she gasped and cried out, her eyes squeezed shut and back arching as a pink flush spread across her skin. It was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen and it sent him flying over the edge, choking out his own cry as ecstasy gripped him harder than ever before. He collapsed onto his side and pressed his face into the crook of her neck, conscious of little more than the smell of her skin and the gentle caress of her fingers through his hair. 

They lay like that until their breathing calmed and their skin cooled, and gradually reality began to encroach. Killian forced himself against every will he had to move, untangling himself from her and rolling over to remove the condom and dispose of it in the bin next to his bed then grabbing a handful of tissues to clean them both up. 

He dreaded what he would see when he turned back again but Emma still lay where he’d left her, her face calm and showing no signs of panic or regret. She took the tissues he offered without comment and cleaned herself, grimacing a little when she handed them back. He dropped them in the bin along with his own and took a deep breath, waiting for the excuses he knew had to be coming, for the sound of her getting up and running away, leaving him yet again. When the bed shifted but none of those things came he risked another look at her. 

She was snuggling back against the pillows, and as he watched she pulled back the blankets and slid beneath them. He held his breath and did the same, swallowing hard when she slid over to him and curled herself against his chest. 

“Emma—” he began. 

“No,” she said firmly. “No.” 

She cuddled closer, slipping a leg between his and an arm around his waist. He tangled his fingers in her hair, stroking a silky strand between his thumb and forefinger as she hummed in contentment and closed her eyes. A moment later so did he.  

He didn’t know how long he lay there, his eyes half-closed and his nose in her hair. He was adrift in the moment, this extraordinary, unbelievable moment of softness between them when Emma not only allowed him to hold her but actually snuggled into him, fitting her body to his like it belonged there, like there was nowhere else she wished to be. Killian suspected she would regret it in the morning and when she woke she would push him farther away than ever. But now, here, in this moment, she was his. 

Her skin was so soft, he marvelled, so silky beneath his fingertips that he couldn’t stop himself from touching her, gently stroking down her body, the dip of her waist and the curve of her hip, down her thigh and up again, over her arse and along the ridge of her spine to sink once more into her hair. 

Slowly he became aware that she was touching him as well, her hand trailing over his thigh and hip, up his back and down his shoulder, pausing briefly to explore the tattoo there then slipping further on to sift her fingers through the hair on his chest. He caught his breath as she discovered the scatter of tiny stars tattooed across his heart, almost lost among the dark strands, and traced the pattern they described with unnerving accuracy. 

She looked up at him with eyes hazy with desire, blinking slowly as he brought his hand up to cup her cheek, his thumb caressing the dimple in her chin. He kissed the dimple, thrilling to the little hum of enjoyment she gave. He kissed her nose and her forehead and both her cheeks, and then, finally, her lips. 

The kiss was slow and soft and and achingly tender. Killian poured his whole self into it and everything he felt for her, fully aware of what he was confessing but unable to care. Emma knew his feelings whether she wished to accept them or not, and he had nothing to lose. 

She opened her mouth with a soft moan and took the kiss deeper, pulled him closer, her tongue on his sending heat licking up his spine, her hands stroking it across his skin. He wanted to touch her everywhere, worship her as he had in his dreams, distil a lifetime of devotion through the prism of this one act. But there wasn’t time for all he wished to do and so he made do with what he craved the most. The soft weight of her breast in his palm and the hard peak of its nipple, how she moaned into his mouth as he stroked it with his thumb.  His fingers caressing her, slowly down her belly then between her legs, sinking deep into her velvety heat. Her tongue soft and wet as she licked down his neck, nipping at him, leaving marks that would linger on his skin for days and break his heart anew each time he saw them. 

Emma shifted beneath him, aligning their bodies and lifting her knees to cradle him, holding him close and kissing him hard as he slid inside her. The wet warmth of her mouth and her cunt made him dizzy; the squeeze of her legs around his waist and the clutch of her hands on his shoulders and back urged him on. He tried to go slowly, to make this last as long as possible, but the sounds of her pleasure, the way she clung to him, the sheer elation of sharing this with her—however illusory it may be—was too great to withstand, and far too soon they fell. 

She gasped and he groaned as ecstasy gripped them both, her fingers curling through his hair and pressing his forehead to hers, their eyes locked as she fluttered around him and that gorgeous flush suffused her skin once again. Caught in the delicate tenderness of the moment, wrapped in intimacy and awash in sensation, Killian struggled to contain the words he longed to say to her. He tried his best to hold on to what he knew was true—that this was just an interlude, a moment soon to end—but against all good sense, his better judgement, and even his will, he felt that tiny, stubborn bud of hope bloom yet again in his heart. Perhaps, it whispered to him as he rolled onto his side and Emma followed, curling herself tightly around him and sighing contentedly against his chest as they drifted off to sleep. Perhaps.

…

A prickly sensation in her arm woke Emma. She resisted it, groaning internally and trying to will herself back to sleep. It was far too early to be awake, she could tell that much even through her drowsy haze. It was early and she was so comfortable but for the prickly arm, warm and contented and relaxed, with Killian’s chest beneath her cheek and his arms tight around her. 

Killian— With a jolt Emma came fully awake, staring up at his sleeping face with eyes gone wide in dismay. What the hell had she done? 

Slept with Killian Jones was what she’d done—God, she couldn’t even call him Hook in her head anymore. She’d charged into his house and drunk his rum and had sex with him—twice!—and it had been just everything she had ever fantasised about and more. So much more. Far, far too much more. 

She forced herself to pull away, away from the warmth of his arms and of him. The fact that she had to force herself had panic gripping her chest. She wanted to stay, she realised with a flash of the same terror that had sent her running from him in Storybrooke and the same regret she’d felt on realising, not even a week after her return to New York, that leaving him had been a terrible mistake. For three years she’d tried to bury her regret over that one rash decision, buried it and ignored it and denied it, without success, and now here, finally, she had the chance to make things right. All she had to do was slip back into his arms, curl up where she wanted so badly to be and go back to sleep. 

But she couldn’t—it was too much, too fast, and she wasn’t ready. His feelings were too big for her to deal with and hers… hers she couldn’t even bear to think about. She scrambled away, trying not to jostle him, but his eyes blinked open anyway and she froze just on the edge of the bed, caught by the look in them. He had such expressive eyes, true windows to his soul as the saying went, laying bare his every thought and feeling, and it had always amazed Emma that he never seemed to mind how vulnerable they made him. He’d hidden nothing from her, not since Neverland and not until these past few weeks when the cold, shuttered blankness in those beautiful eyes had cut her more deeply than she’d realised. They weren’t blank now, though, but brimming with emotion—with hurt and anger and a weary, hopeless resignation that clawed at her heart.

“I...” she began, trailing off when she realised she had no idea what to say, how to explain. How to make him understand. 

Killian sighed and leaned over the edge of the bed. She heard a drawer opening and then a soft t-shirt landed in her lap. “You can wear that downstairs,” he said. “Your dress is on the kitchen floor.” 

“Killian—” 

Emma groped for the words to tell him that she didn’t want this to be the end, that she wasn’t trying to run from him again. She just needed some time and a bit of space to process all the things that had happened and how she felt about them. But his face was blank again and his eyes so terrifyingly hard that the words wouldn’t come. 

“Don’t,” he snapped. “Don’t fucking bother. Just go.” 

She swallowed over the aching lump in her chest. “I never meant for this to happen,” she whispered. 

He snorted. “Let’s not kid ourselves, love,” he said, and she flinched at the bitter edge in his voice. “You’ve wanted to know how I fuck since the beanstalk. Now that you’ve finally got it out of your system perhaps we can both move on.” 

“Move on,” she choked. “You’ve done that already.” 

“I’ve certainly tried,” he said. “Anabel makes me happy. She actually likes me for myself and while you may not think I deserve that I choose to believe I do. I’ve worked bloody hard to put my past behind me and build a respectable life in this realm.” 

A life that doesn’t include you, his words implied, and she nodded, fighting the tears that prickled behind her eyes. She slipped the t-shirt over her head and scrambled from the bed, grabbing her shoes as she fled, desperate to get away from him before he could see her cry. 

…

Killian managed to hold off his own tears until he heard his front door close behind her and then they came in a torrent. All the anguish he’d kept so tightly locked away these last three years—the heartbreak and the guilt, the regret over the life he’d led and the choices that had shaped him into someone a woman like Emma could never love—came rushing forth like the sea through the hull of a sinking ship. He turned his face into the pillow that still carried her scent and wept for all he had lost in the course of his long life, for every terrible deed he’d done and every beautiful thing his touch had destroyed. He wept until he had nothing left inside him, until he sank into a restless, dreamless sleep. 

 When he awoke again the sun was pouring in through his windows with offensive brightness and he groaned, rubbing his eyes and wishing that just once the habits born of centuries on the sea would leave him alone to wallow in his bed. Instead he dragged himself up and stumbled into the bathroom where he splashed cold water on his face and ignored his hollow-eyed reflection in the mirror as he brushed his teeth, then went downstairs. 

In the kitchen he found his t-shirt, folded almost neatly and draped across the back of a chair. With shaking hands he picked it up and pressed it against his cheek—just for a moment—then with a guttural cry flung it away against the wall. 

…

Emma spent the next week driving herself as hard as she could, working the toughest cases, the longest hours, hounding the staff at the new office with her demands. Anything, anything, to avoid having to think. If she stopped moving even for a second she saw Killian’s face in her mind’s eye and heard his voice telling her to go, and the ache of loss would hit her again, as fresh and raw as the moment it happened. 

Losing something she’d never really had shouldn’t hurt so much, she thought, and frankly she resented it. She felt swamped by a strange sort of untethered frustration, an uncomfortable feeling and uncomfortably familiar. She’d last felt it back in Storybrooke, that antsy itch under her skin whenever Killian was near, in the few quiet moments they’d shared in between battling flying monkeys and breaking curses. She’d managed to ignore it then, seizing on the witch and the curses and Neal as convenient distractions, excuses not to think about Killian or her feelings or what he wanted from her. What she wanted from him, what they could have. And as soon as those distractions were gone she had run. Just as she always did. As she would continue to do, damn it, until she found something that made her want to stay. 

She refused to think about how badly she’d wanted to stay in Killian’s bed. 

...

“Mom,” said Henry the following Saturday, coming into the living room to find her dusting the corners of the bookshelves, “can I ask you something?”

“Hmmm?” Emma dragged her attention away from her determined assault on the cracks in the wood. “Sure. What’s up?”

Henry shifted uncomfortably. “Um, have you—have you seen Hook at all since we moved here?” 

“Killian,” said Emma automatically.

“What?” 

She felt her face grow hot. “He prefers to be called Killian now.”

“So you did see him!” cried Henry. 

Emma set her dusting rag down with a sigh. “Yeah. I did.” 

“Did you guys have a fight or something?”

“Kind of, I guess. It’s hard to explain.” She cast a sideways glance at her son. “Grown-up stuff.”

“Mom,” sighed Henry, with his special ‘I’m a teenager now’ eyeroll. “I’m not a kid anymore and I’m not stupid. I know that you and Killian—that there was something going on with you guys in Storybrooke and I know that’s part of the reason you left.”

“Henry—”

“And I saw how you reacted when I told you he was here. It’s okay to talk to me about it.”

Emma made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. 

“I mean, no details,” he said with a grimace. “But like, in general.”

“Henry.” Emma rubbed her temples. “I appreciate it, really. But I can’t. I can’t even think about it.” 

“You really should. It’s not a good idea to hold stuff like that inside.” 

“Stuff like what?” 

“You know. Feelings. You hold yours in too much.” 

“I know. I know I do.” She frowned at him. “How did you know there was… something with us in Storybrooke?”

“It was pretty obvious, Mom. He came all the way from the Enchanted Forest to New York to get you, and then when we got back to Storybrooke you two were always talking together or at Granny’s, and when you weren’t with him you asked him to babysit me. Which you wouldn’t do unless you trusted him.”

“That’s true,” Emma whispered. She had trusted Killian. She did. 

“And then after we moved back to New York you never asked about him,” Henry continued. “When you talked to Grandma and Grandpa you asked them about everybody in Storybrooke, even my mom. Even Leroy. But you never asked about him. If he’d only been a friend you would have.” 

Emma shook her head. “Kid, when did you get so smart?” 

“Duh, I always have been. Thanks for noticing.” They were silent for several minutes before Henry spoke again. “And you know,” he said, “I wouldn’t mind. If you wanted to, you know. Date him.” 

“Really? Would you really want me to be with a pirate?” 

Henry shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s kind of hard to think of him that way anymore. But I always liked him, mostly. He took me sailing and told me about my dad. And he’s probably the best teacher I’ve ever had. And he’s been looking really sad all week.” 

“He has?” 

“Yeah. Everyone’s noticed. He’s all quiet in class, not like he usually is. And he hasn’t been having lunch with Miss Hartfield.” 

Emma’s heart gave a painful thump. “Miss Hartfield?” 

“The physics teacher,” Henry clarified. “They always used to have lunch together. All the girls in my class thought they were dating and now they’re all crying cuz they think they’ve broken up.” 

“Is Miss Hartfield a very pretty brunette with dark blue eyes?” 

“Yeah.” Henry looked surprised. “How did you know?”

“I—met her. Last weekend. She was having dinner with—with Killian. I guess they really are dating. The girls in your class should be happy.” 

“Oh.” Henry’s eyes filled with sympathy. “I’m really sorry, Mom—” 

“It’s okay.” Emma swallowed hard and forced a smile when he gave her a skeptical look. “Really! I’m okay.” 

“You’re not—” 

“I am.” Emma wrapped her arm around Henry’s shoulders and pulled him into a hug. “Or I will be. I just—need a little time. Is your homework done, by the way? Speaking of your teachers.” 

“Oh, yeah, nice segue.” Henry rolled his eyes, playing along, though it was clear from his face that he didn’t believe her. “It’s nearly done.” 

“Well, get it all done and then what do you say we order pizza and watch some bad movies. Unless you’ve got other plans?” 

“Nope. I’m all yours.” 

…

By the next Thursday, Emma had almost convinced herself that she was fine. Killian still crept into her thoughts far more than she’d like but the ache he brought she convinced herself was less severe. She didn’t have to fight so hard to stop the tears from welling up or keep herself constantly distracted.  

It’s like he said, she told herself fiercely. It was just an itch that needed scratching, and now it’s scratched that’s it. No hard feelings. No feelings at all. 

Thursday afternoon as Emma was leaving work, Henry texted her that his friend Becca was having some problems and wanted to talk and he was going to her house for a little bit. His homework was nearly done, he said, and he promised to finish it when he got home.  

Said homework was spread out over the dining table when Emma returned and she went to gather it up and put it to one side so she could sit there herself and have some dinner. Her heart skipped when she saw it was astronomy he’d been working on, the book still open to a page illustrated with several constellations. One of them caught her eye. It looked like a slightly tilted cross with bent arms, and it tickled something in her memory. 

She frowned and bent down to get a closer look. That pattern of stars looked so familiar. Emma racked her brains trying to remember where she could have seen it before. It couldn’t have been that long ago, she thought, and—oh. Oh. She flushed as the memory resolved with uncomfortable clarity, and her heart began to pound. 

She recognised that pattern because she had traced it herself through the hair on Killian’s chest, connecting the sprinkle of stars tattooed over his heart. She remembered thinking how odd it was, him having a tattoo there where it was practically invisible. His other tattoos were elaborate and brightly coloured and on places where he had less hair, but those tiny stars she would never have noticed if she hadn’t had her face pressed right up against them. 

It did make sense, she reasoned, for an astronomy teacher to have a constellation tattoo, though all his others featured names and clear associations with people from his past. But this one—Emma peered more closely at Henry’s book looking for the constellation’s name, and when she found it sank slowly into the chair, her knees gone too weak to support her. 

It was the constellation Cygnus. The swan. Killian had a swan tattoo. Right above his heart. 

He was in love with her. 

Emma let her head fall into her hands as the full force of that realisation hit her, with the strength and fury of a hurricane. She was aware he had feelings, strong ones, and though she’d never let herself think too much about them she couldn’t pretend she hadn’t known. But this… this was serious. He wouldn’t put her permanently on his body with Milah and with Liam unless it was big-L love. Killian loved her, or at least he had. Did he still? Could he still, after what had happened between them?

She closed her eyes and thought about the last words he’d spoken to her, about his girlfriend—Anabel—and how happy he was. Her breathing sped up an her hands trembled as she recalled it, the memory she’d tried hardest to escape and with the least success. The closed expression on Killian’s face and the flat tone of his voice were etched into her mind as clearly as if she were back there in his bedroom living that terrible moment all over again, and she realised with a flash of shock that he’d been lying. She’d been too upset to see it at the time but now her superpower was screaming at her. He’d lied to her, and not even well. 

A bubble of hope rose up in her heart. If Killian was lying about being happy, about having moved on, then maybe… maybe there was a chance that he still loved her. Maybe if she told him how much she missed him… if she reached out, if she tried… maybe they could actually talk. The way he’d acted the other times they’d met… his coolness, his distance, his anger… of course he was just trying to protect his heart from further hurt. She could certainly understand that. But if she told him, if they talked, then she could fix this. She could get the old Killian back again—the one who looked at her with warmth in his eyes and always believed in her. The one she could now admit to herself that she deeply and desperately missed, not the way you miss a friend you haven’t seen in a while but like a part of herself was gone. 

She sent Henry a quick text telling him where she was going and raced out the door. Ten minutes later she was standing in front of Killian’s, practically leaning on the bell. 

Killian opened his door and for the first time looked surprised to see her standing there on his small porch. 

“Swan!” he exclaimed. “Is Henry okay?” 

“Um.” Emma frowned. “Yeah, he’s fine. Why would you think he wasn’t?” 

“Why else would you be here?” 

“I wanted—” She took a deep breath. “Can we talk?” 

“Talk,” he repeated in an incredulous tone, then eyes moved from her face to something behind her and he smiled a huge, fake smile and waved his hand. Emma turned around to see a middle aged woman waving back as she walked down the sidewalk, a similar smile on her face and a very sharp look in her eye. The moment she looked away Killian grabbed Emma’s arm and pulled her through the door. 

“Come inside, Swan, before the whole neighbourhood sees you,” he hissed. 

“Since when do you care about the neighbourhood?” 

“Since I have to live in it.” He glanced around then shut the door tightly. Emma went into to the living room and perched on the edge of the sofa, trying not to fidget. Killian followed but remained standing in the doorway, watching her with a dark scowl.

“What do you want?” he asked. 

“I told you—to talk.” 

“I don’t believe we have anything left to say to each other.” When she didn’t reply he sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “What is it you wish to discuss?”

“Your tattoo.” 

Emotion flashed in his eyes, apprehension and a hint of alarm. It flared just for an instant and then was gone, as thoroughly as if it had never been. Had she not been looking for it, Emma thought, had she not known how to read him as easily as he did her, she’d have missed it completely. “I have many tattoos,” he replied. 

“I’m talking about one in particular. The stars over your heart. It’s a constellation, isn’t it?” 

Killian’s face was like stone. “Aye.” 

“Which one?” 

“Swan—” 

“Exactly.” Emma pounced. “It’s Cygnus. The swan. You have a swan over your heart, Killian.” 

He shrugged. “What of it?” 

“What of it is I don’t think you get tattoos that have no meaning. You’ve got Milah on your arm, Liam on your shoulder, someone called Alice on your hip who I’m willing to bet is your mother, and over your heart is—is—” 

“Is you,” said Killian flatly. “Is that what you want to hear, Emma? The swan is obviously for you. Because I love you, and because I can’t resist torturing myself with permanent reminders of everyone I loved who is lost to me, etched into my bloody skin. Is that what you came here to get me to confess? It’s a poor confession when you already knew.” 

Guilt swamped her, heavy and suffocating. “I didn’t know,” she attempted to protest, her voice quiet but falling like lead in the face of his stark confession.  

Anger snapped in Killian’s eyes, fuelled by a pain she hadn’t seen before. Hadn’t allowed herself to see. “Don’t lie to me, love, and don’t lie to yourself,” he snarled. “Of course you knew. You knew when I all but begged you not to go back to New York, and you still left. You knew when you slept with me and you still tried to sneak away before I awoke. You’ve always known exactly how I felt and it has never once stopped you from breaking my heart.” 

“Killian—” 

“No. I can’t hear this.” He ran a hand over his face. “Go now, Swan, and don’t come back.” 

“Don’t come back?” she choked. 

“What would be the point? We both know where we stand and I—” his voice broke “—I can’t live with a gaping wound in my chest.” He turned to look at her, his face for once not blank but open and raw and with a plea in his eyes that tore at her heart. “Please, Emma. If you care anything at all for me, leave me alone now. Let me have the chance to heal.” 

Emma’s brain was screaming at her to say something, stop him, don’t let this happen, don’t let him go. FIX THIS. But everything he said was true, every angry, hurtful word of it. She had known his feelings and had she had taken them for granted, even used them against him, never thinking of how that might hurt him. She’d caused him so much pain already that she couldn’t now refuse this one small, heartbreaking thing he asked of her. 

It’s too late. You pushed him away one time too many and now he’s gone. 

“I talked to your girlfriend, you know,” she said, forcing the words past the clawing ache in her chest. “At the restaurant, before you got there. She seems really nice.” She risked a look at his face and almost cringed at the wariness in his expression. “I’m glad you’ve found someone like her, Killian. I really am. You do deserve it. You deserve to be happy.” She stood and moved towards the door, refusing to be hurt by the way he visibly tensed as she drew near. “I—I hope you’ll be happy.” With one last look to fix his face forever in her memory she turned and ran from his house. 

…

When she got home Henry was back, sitting at the table with his homework. He looked up to greet her, the cheerful words dying on his lips when he saw her face. He jumped to his feet and hurried over to wrap her in a huge hug. Emma gripped him tightly and let the tears she felt like she’d been holding in forever finally, finally fall. She cried as she could never remember crying before, great heaving sobs that left her empty and drained and clinging limply to Henry’s shoulders.

“What can I do?” he begged. “Mom, tell me what I can do.”  

Emma sobbed again, wondering what she’d ever done to deserve him. “Do you think it’d be okay if I came back to Storybrooke with you this weekend?” she asked. “I just really don’t want to be alone.” 

“Are you kidding?” Henry smiled, a bright smile that did nothing to disguise his worry. “Grandma and Grandpa would love that!” 

“They would. What about Regina?” 

“Honestly, I think she’d be glad to see you too. Everyone would. People have missed you.” 

“And you wouldn’t mind me tagging along?” 

Henry hugged her again. “I’d love it.” 

…

They drove up to Storybrooke as soon as Henry finished school the next day, arriving at her parents’ loft just in time for dinner. Snow and David were as thrilled as Henry had predicted, hugging her between them, smiling widely with damp eyes. Emma found her own eyes growing damp as she leaned into the comfort of their embrace, her heart tripping when David gently cupped the back of her head. 

“Dinner’s almost ready,” said Snow when they finally pulled apart, cradling Emma’s face between her hands. “Why don’t you and Henry go sit at the table?” 

“Is there anything I can—” 

“Nope,” said Snow firmly. “It’s all under control.” 

Emma seated herself at the table between David and Henry and looked around at the loft. “Wow, have you guys changed anything in this place since I was here last?” she asked. 

“Um, I think those curtains are new,” said David absently as he attempted to wrestle a protesting Neal into his high chair. Henry grabbed a toy and distracted his uncle with it long enough for David to get the toddler’s legs through the holes and settle him in. Emma’s heart tripped again. Henry was so comfortable here, far more comfortable with her father and brother than she was, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. 

“We’re thinking of moving, actually,” said David, sitting down next to Emma. “There’s a farm just outside of town that’s for sale, we might buy it.” 

“You want to be a farmer?” said Emma blankly. 

“I grew up a shepherd,” he reminded her. “And this place won’t be big enough once Neal is older and wants his own room. Plus we haven’t entirely ruled out the idea of more kids. So I think it’s an opportunity we shouldn’t pass up. Your mother, on the other hand—” 

“I don’t object to it, exactly,” said Snow as she set a bowl of salad and a large platter of chicken on the table. “It would just mean a long commute if I’m going to keep working with Regina.” 

“You’re working with Regina?” 

“I’m the deputy mayor,” said Snow. 

“You are? Since when?” 

“Um, about two years now?” 

“Oh.” Emma fell silent as her parents launched into a debate on the merits of farm vs town in a way that made it clear that this was an old, comfortable discussion, frequently rehashed. Henry chimed in with a comment every now and then, egging them on, and Emma ate her chicken rather sullenly and tried not to feel left out. 

“So what’s it like being back in Boston after so long?” David asked her, when the conversation hit a lull. 

“It’s fine, I guess.” She shrugged. “A bit weird. I don’t normally like to go back to places I’ve left.”

An awkward silence fell and Emma felt herself flush. “I mean, I’m not saying I never would, but—” 

“How about you, Henry?” Snow jumped in. “How do you like Boston?” 

“It’s pretty cool. I like that there’s so much history. And my school’s really good.”

“Are you still having a hard time with math?” asked Snow, smiling fondly. “I remember that was always your downfall when you were in my class.” 

“No, actually, I’ve got a really great teacher at the new school.” Henry shot Emma a questioning look and she nodded. “It’s, um, actually it’s Hook.” 

“Hook?” David frowned. “What, like Hook Hook? He’s your teacher?” 

“Captain Hook?” said Snow. 

“How many Hooks do you know?” snapped Emma, irritated by their disbelief. 

“Well,” said Snow, now looking surprised at Emma’s vehemence. “It’s just a bit strange, isn’t it? That Hook’s a teacher?” 

“I don’t think so,” said Emma. “He always taught Henry stuff when he used to watch him before.”

“And my dad too,” said Henry. “In Neverland.” 

“Really?” asked David, still frowning. 

“Yeah. He’s the one who taught my dad how to navigate and how to sail. Seriously, Grandpa, he’s really good at it,” said Henry decisively. “Everyone loves his classes.” 

David shook his head. “Not that I don’t believe you, Henry, it’s just hard to imagine. It’s hard to imagine Hook as anything but a pirate.” 

“It’s not that hard,” retorted Emma, stabbing at a piece of lettuce on her plate. 

 “Well, you know, after Pan’s curse when we all landed back in the Enchanted Forest he could hardly wait to get back to his pirate’s life,” David pointed out. “He barely stayed with us for an hour.” 

“Though to be fair, it was mostly his ship he wanted to get back to,” said Snow. “And it’s not like that was an option for him here.” 

“That’s true,” David conceded. “I guess it’s hard to be a pirate when you’ve got no ship. He could’ve stolen one, but I genuinely did have the feeling he wanted to turn over a new leaf.” 

“Wait, wait—what do you mean, no ship?” demanded Emma. “What happened to his ship?” 

Snow, David, and Henry all turned to her in surprise. “Don’t you know?” asked Snow.

“Know what?” 

Snow and David exchanged a glance. “Hook traded his ship,” said David. “For the magic bean he needed to get to New York to find you. Didn’t he tell you?”

“He traded his ship…” Emma’s head began to spin. “For me?” 

“Well, yes, in a way,” said Snow. “Did he really not tell you?” 

“No. He never said a word.” 

“Well I guess we only know because David basically dragged it out of him,” said Snow. 

“He was moping around the town so much after you left,” said David. “Drinking and getting disruptive. I threw him in the cells for a night and in the morning tried to gently suggest he might be happier if he took his ship out for a few days to clear his head, and he said that would be a bloody challenge when Blackbeard had his ship.” 

“Blackbeard!” Henry exclaimed. “I didn’t know that part. He hates Blackbeard. Said he’s the worst kind of pirate, a man with no code and no honour. Why would he trade his ship to Blackbeard?” 

“He didn’t say. I guess he just really wanted to get back here and find Emma.” 

No one was looking at her but Emma could feel the weight of their attention, and she groped desperately for something to say, some way to respond to this revelation. But as always when she was overwhelmed with emotion, no words came. She poked at her food, feeling frozen and numb and so terribly sorry, and desperate for a distraction. 

One came a minute later in the form of a knock on the door. Emma had never been more glad in her life to see Regina, come to pick up Henry with Robin Hood and a delighted Roland at her side. In the bustle and confusion that followed their arrival, Emma slipped away to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water, downing half of it in one gulp then pressing the cool glass to her temple as she tried to calm her turbulent thoughts.   

Regina hugged Henry and watched as he hugged Robin and Roland, smiling a smile that made Emma blink with a new shock of astonishment. It was unnervingly soft for the erstwhile Evil Queen, warm and happy. 

“What the hell happened to Regina?” she whispered to her mother when Snow came into the kitchen with their empty plates. 

“What do you mean?” Snow frowned. “She looks just the same to me.” 

“Yeah but remember I haven’t seen her in three years. She looks… well, she looks happy.” 

“She is happy,” said Snow. “She and Robin got married last year you know, and—” she broke off when she saw Emma’s face. “You didn’t know.” 

“Huh-uh.” 

“But didn’t Henry tell you? He gave her away.” 

“I—don’t really ask Henry about his visits here. And you never mentioned it.” 

“You don’t ever seem to want to talk about Storybrooke with me either,” Snow replied. “You ask how everyone is, but whenever I try to offer details you change the subject. Have you left this place behind so completely, Emma?” 

“I’ve tried to,” said Emma, in a burst of honesty. “I wanted to get away from all of it—magic and villains and being the Saviour. I never wanted any of that and I never really felt like I belonged here.” 

“You never really tried,” said Snow. “But there’s always a place for you in Storybrooke, sweetie, whenever you want to take it.” 

…

Killian parked his car in front of Granny’s and got out slowly, taking in the sight of the familiar streets and buildings with a resigned sigh. He hadn’t been back to Storybrooke since he’d moved to Brookline, hadn’t had any desire to return until seeing Emma again had stirred up all the old feelings he’d worked so hard to bury. This past week his new life had felt like it was suffocating him—the students who looked up to him, the colleagues who respected him, Anabel who loved him. All of them so obviously concerned by the shift in his mood, caring about him, and the weight of all the pretence he’d built around himself threatened to crush him. Not a single one of them truly knew him, what he was and the things he’d done, the life he’d led for so very many blood-soaked years, and Killian hadn’t been able to bear another second of their kindness.  

The Rabbit Hole was just as he remembered, loud and raucous and full of people playing their own game of pretend, fuelled by alcohol and shielded by the brittle jocundity of such places. He looked around for Tink but couldn’t see her, and though he strained his ears could hear nothing over the pounding music. He pushed through the crowd towards the bar where he finally caught sight of her, perched on her knees atop a barstool and waving him over. 

“Hey!” she cried, leaping down from the stool and throwing her arms around him. He froze in surprise for a minute then tentatively hugged her back. 

“Tink,” he said cautiously. “Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, fine.” She released him and stepped back, grinning as she took him in. “I guess I just missed you.” 

“That’s new,” he snorted. 

“Well you used to call me, if you remember, the first year or so after you left. Now I barely hear a word for months on end until suddenly you text to say you’ll be here in three hours and can I put you up for the night. So I have to ask, is everything okay with you?” 

Killian tried to summon his old cocky grin and some quip to reassure her, but they refused to come. Everything wasn’t okay, far, far from it, and he knew this was at the root of his spur of the moment decision to come back to Storybrooke. He needed to talk to someone who truly knew him, all of him, and who had known him at his worst. Tink was, as strange as it may be to think about, his best friend. 

“No,” he said, and watched her eyes widen at the stark honesty of his reply. “I’m not okay. At all.” 

Tink’s face softened and she looped her arm through his, and he let her lead him to an empty pair of stools at the very end of the bar. They sat and Tink ordered a bottle of rum and two glasses, then rested her hand just above his prosthetic and listened, keeping his glass filled as he told her everything. He told her of how hard he’d worked to make a place for himself in this land and build a new life to go with it, and how at times he felt that he’d succeeded in that aim but at others felt a complete fraud. He spoke about his job and how much he loved it and the joy of helping his students learn, but how he still felt unworthy of the trust placed in him by the school and by their parents. He told her about Anabel and how much he wished that he was whole enough to love her and then finally, haltingly, he spoke of Emma. About seeing her again and all that had occurred between them, and the way he’d spiralled afterwards into a depression so deep he wasn’t sure he could recover.

“I’m so tired of living sometimes,” he said. “You know what I mean.” It wasn’t a question but Tink nodded anyway, memories of long nights spent sharing rum and companionship in Neverland hanging thick between them. “Obviously time passes differently there, you have less of a—a sense of it passing, but—” 

“But it still passes,” she said. 

“Aye. It still passes, and I’ve passed so bloody much of it. And sometimes I think about how in terms of the physical age of my body I’m only about thirty-five. I could live another fifty or sixty years, easily, what with the medical marvels in this realm, and at times I just wonder—” he drew a deep breath “—I wonder if that’s really what I want.” 

“You want to die?” Tink asked carefully. 

“Not precisely.” Killian tossed back his rum and she poured him some more. “I’m just exhausted by the prospect of more living. Does that make any sense at all?” 

Tink nodded, sipping her own drink before speaking. “Years can be a burden,” she said. “Fairies are immortal so we don’t feel them the same way humans do, but we see how they affect you. Most humans your physical age would still have a lot left to look forward to but you’ve already lived the lifetimes of at least three men. It’s understandable that the prospect of living another might feel overwhelming.” 

“So what the hell am I supposed to do about it?”

“Well, assuming you don’t actually want to end your life?” 

“I don’t,” he assured her. Though he couldn’t deny that the thought had crossed his mind in his more desperate moments, Killian had fought too hard for his survival to ever end himself by his own hand. 

“Then you have to find something to live for,” said Tink. “Or someone?” 

He shook his head. “Emma doesn’t want me.” 

“It doesn’t have to be Emma.” 

“It can’t be anyone else,” he muttered, glowering into the depths of his glass. “Not for me.” 

“You felt that way about Milah too.” 

“I thought I did, but this is different. Milah and I—we were in love but our relationship wasn’t healthy. I can see that now. We didn’t bring out the best in each other; in fact we probably brought out the worst. She wanted the cocksure pirate and so I leaned into that role, for her. We both leaned into it, and we enjoyed it, the plunder and the destruction and the casual cruelty. I think it made us both feel powerful.” He sipped his rum and shot a sideways glance at Tink, who was watching him attentively and still without judgement. 

“But Emma, though,” Killian continued, setting his glass down and flexing his fingers around it. “Emma makes me want to be better. Even when I thought I’d never see her again, even though I know we’ll never be together I still want to be the man she inspired me to become.” He squeezed the glass harder, almost hoping it would shatter in his hand. “But then, if I’m only being that man because of her is that truly who I am? And how can I try to build a life with someone like Anabel when I know I can’t love her as she deserves and I’m only even remotely like someone she might want because of my feelings for another woman?”

Tink wrapped her arms around one of his and squeezed it sympathetically, resting her head on his shoulder. “I wish I had an answer for you, Hook,” she said. “But who you truly are, or can be, is a question you have to work out for yourself.” She paused as they both drank. “Have you ever considered telling Anabel about your past?” 

He snorted. “Tell a sensible science teacher from the land without magic that I’m Captain Hook? Oh yes that would go over brilliantly.” 

“That’s not what I meant,” said Tink. “I meant telling her a modified version of what happened to you, with your parents and Liam and Milah. Letting her see a bit more of who you are and what shaped you.” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Killian sighed and ran his hand over his face. “I’ve thought about it. I genuinely don’t know if it would help or just be a burden on her. For all she knows I’m just a normal man born in Bristol, England in 1981. How would I even begin to fit parental abandonment, a dead brother, and two tragic romances into that man’s life?”

“Two?” 

“She already knows about Emma.” 

“Right. Well, you’d have to get creative, but if it helped her know you better? At least you could try.” 

Killian drank again then tightened his arm to pull Tink closer, resting his cheek on her head as the the pleasant haze he craved began to settle over his mind. “Do you know why I fell in love with Emma?” he asked. Tink shook her head, her hair tickling his nose. “It wasn’t her courage or her kindness or her beauty, though those are all contributing factors. It was because she understood me. We understood each other, from the very beginning, in a way I’d never known before. It scares her but I—I crave it. And that’s what’s missing with Anabel and with every other woman I’ve known, even Milah. That connection of the whole self. It’s something that can’t be forced or—or brought into being. It is or it isn’t, and that’s that.” 

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure that I don’t have the energy to sort through all of this realm’s women in hopes of finding a pale reflection of it. I’ve found the love of my life, Tink. It took three centuries but I found her, and I offered her my heart, and she refused it. I don’t think the answer is to try to patch over that wound with another woman. I don’t know what the answer is. Perhaps there isn’t one.” 

He frowned as Tink tensed against him, her eyes going wide. “Perhaps the answer is Emma,” she said. “And you just haven’t asked the right questions yet.” 

He followed her gaze and felt his jaw clench. Tink clung to him for another brief moment, whispering in his ear. “She might still be your answer, Hook. Don’t lose hope just yet.” 

…

Once Henry left to spend the night with Regina and her parents went to put Neal to bed, Emma muttered something about taking a walk and fled the loft, desperate for some space and time alone to sort through her muddled thoughts. As painful and chaotic as they were she knew she had to think them, and feel the feelings that they brought. Already she’d lost so much by trying to run from her feelings. More even than she’d known. 

Killian had given up everything for her. That was the thought that kept echoing in her brain. He’d given up his ship, his home, his most prized possession. He’d given it to a man he hated, all so that he could get back to her, knowing she wouldn’t even remember him. All to bring her back to her family. Her home. 

And what had she done? She’d scorned him and pushed him away, denied her feelings and run away from them and from him the first chance she got. No wonder he was so hurt. No wonder that pain had turned to anger. He should be angry, she thought in disgust, he should hate her. Yet she knew that despite everything he didn’t. He may not want anything to do with her anymore but he didn’t hate her. She almost wished he did. It might actually make the weight of her guilt and regret easier to bear. 

For the first time in her adult life Emma actually, genuinely faced her feelings, and thought seriously about what they were and what they meant. She didn’t love Killian, not the way he loved her, but she could. All the elements were there, from the way they had always understood each other to how easily she’d trusted him to the electric sizzle of their sexual chemistry. It was that could that had scared her, sent her running three years ago. The vulnerability it represented, the loss of control, terrified her. It felt like standing at the edge of an abyss with her her toes hanging over the edge and a gale force wind at her back. She’d fallen into that abyss before with terrible consequences, but then Killian was not Neal. She knew, somehow, beyond any doubt, that if she let Killian Jones into her life he’d never leave her. 

If she had let him in. It was too late now. 

She began to cry again, not with the wrenching sobs she’d cried the day before but with heavy, drenching tears that flooded her cheeks and dripped off her chin faster than she could wipe them away. Her chest felt hollowed out, aching and empty and hopeless.

She caught sight of the neon sign for the Rabbit Hole and swerved abruptly to her right, cutting across the street without looking for cars. Fortunately there were none. This was Storybrooke, after all, even on a Saturday night. And she really, really wanted a drink. 

The Rabbit Hole was fairly busy, its noise and bustle comfortingly familiar. Emma kept her head down as she moved towards the bar, hoping no one would recognise her. It wasn’t until she was nearly there that she spotted Killian. 

He was sitting at the end of the bar with a half empty bottle of rum and Tinkerbelle beside him, her arms looped through his and her head on his shoulder. The obvious, comfortable intimacy between them sharpened the ache in Emma’s chest and reminded her of her suspicions about what their relationship had been in Neverland. She was certain it was more than either of them had let on. 

As she stood frozen and wondering what to do, Tink looked up, her eyes widening in recognition. Killian frowned and followed her gaze and when he saw Emma the look that flashed across his face nearly broke her heart. He shook Tink off and stood up, tossing back the rest of his glass of rum and heading for the door. 

Before she could think better of it, Emma spun on her heel and took off after him. She caught his arm just before he could reach the door and he spun around, yanking it from her grip. 

“Bloody hell, Swan, can I never be free of you!” he cried, and the hopeless defeat in his voice made her tears well again. She forced herself to remember that his feelings were justified, that she had done this to him and that he didn’t owe her forgiveness or anything else. 

“I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice. “I didn’t know you’d be here and I don’t want to bother you, but Killian—” 

“What?” 

“My dad—he told me what you did. How you traded your ship for a magic bean to come find me in New York.” 

A faint flush coloured Killian’s cheeks and he shifted uncomfortably. “It was nothing,” he said. “Anyone would have—”

“No, anyone definitely would not have,” cried Emma fiercely. “You gave up everything you had to get me back here and then I just turned my back on it, and on you. And I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry, Killian, and I don’t expect you to forgive me. I just—I wanted you to know.” 

He swallowed hard and gave her a small, guarded smile. “You made what you thought was the best decision for yourself and Henry,” he said gruffly. “That’s all anyone can do. I’m just glad you’re happy.” 

“But I’m not,” she burst out. “I’m not. I mean, I’m not unhappy exactly but I miss—I miss you.” She heard his sharp intake of breath but barrelled on before she could lose her nerve. For once in her life she knew just the words she wanted to say and she was going to say them. 

“And you were right,” she continued. “I knew how you felt about me and I threw it back in your face and pushed you away whenever I could. I was scared of my own feelings, of how strong they were, and I know that’s no excuse but all my life I’ve always run from things like that. I run from things that make me feel too much and I still can’t believe that anyone could really care as much about me as you seemed to and so I ran before I could find out that you didn’t. I know I hurt you. It wasn’t always unintentional, and God, Killian, I am so fucking sorry for that too.” 

She swallowed hard, twisting her hands together, feeling the intensity of his gaze on her but not daring to meet it. “And I know that there’s no chance for—for us anymore but I wanted you to know how much I regret it. There’s nothing in my life I regret more than ruining things between us before they could even really start.” 

Gathering her courage she looked up at him, and caught her own breath at the expression on his face, that soft, intense expression she’d missed so much. “Do you want there to be a chance?” he said hoarsely. “If there was a chance, would you—could you take it?” 

Emma gasped again as hope exploded in her heart and it began to race. She nodded. “Yeah. I think I could. I would.” 

“You think?”

She stepped closer, looking up at him, hardly daring to breathe. Music pounded through the air around them, voices shouted, bodies danced, and they were the only two people in the world. 

“I could,” Emma whispered, “I can and I will if—if that’s what you want too?”

Killian drew a shaky breath and his fingers trembled as he reached up to caress her face, brushing softly across her cheek before sliding into her hair. He pressed his lips to hers in the gentlest kiss of any they had shared, a butterfly’s wing of a kiss, a kiss of promise and forgiveness and hope. Emma sighed into it as it slowly deepened, as Killian’s fingers tightened on the back of her head and hers gripped his jacket and she couldn’t suppress a moan. 

When they broke apart she was breathless and dizzy and he was beaming, a bright, dazed grin that made her heart soar as he leaned his forehead against hers. “Do you really mean it, Emma?” he whispered. “You really want—” 

“You,” she said. “Yeah. I want you, and I want us.” 

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “I’m yours, love,” he said. “As you know.” 

“Just like that?” Emma pulled back enough to look at his face while keeping her arms tight around him. “After all the hurt I caused you, you can just forgive me?” 

“Aye, just like that. I’m not saying all the hurt is healed or that we don’t have  things to work through. But of course I can forgive you. I love you.” 

“Killian—” 

“Shhhh, let’s just leave it there for now,” he said. “It’s nothing we didn’t both already know. We’ll work on the other half later.” 

“Later,” Emma murmured, snuggling back into his arms. “I like the way that sounds.” 

…

@thisonesatellite​ @katie-dub​ @mariakov81 @stahlop @teamhook @kmomof4 @shireness-says @thejollyroger-writer​ @snowbellewells​ @jennjenn615​ @tiganasummertree​ @lfh1226-linda​ 

#cs fic #captain swan #canon divergence #3b divergence #angst #smut #angst with a happy ending #cs ff #cs ff au #lots of feelings #some heartbreak #they get there in the end #all the perfect things (that i doubt) #profdanglaisstuff #birthday fic #ohmightydevviepuu

[folkelorde]

* / GUIDE: CHARACTERS AT A NEWSPAPER.

hi, hello ! here’s just a guide for creating a character who works in a newsroom/for a newspaper. most of this is drawn from personal experience (+ my parents’ experiences) but i did some googling on your behalf as well. this guide isn’t just because i wanna see more accuracy, but also because there’s a lot of things about this environment that would be fun to write that i don’t really see being taken advantage of. so, check out under the cut for all my tips.

note: if you have any questions about your journalist or journalist-adjacent muse, i’m happy to try and help answer ! let me know if you have more questions this guide doesn’t cover, i just went to the points that might be most helpful for your muse plot-wise.

1. WHERE IS THE NEWSPAPER LOCATED/WHAT KIND IS IT? this makes a huge difference. 

the environment in a small town paper is going to be a lot more lowkey and casual than a larger city paper. 

most large papers are now all owned by big companies so really unless they’re the nytimes, they’re suffering because of constant budget cuts, layoffs, etc, that affect their ability to report the stories that the people in their area care about. they’re generally just pulling from AP articles. small town papers these days are mainly weekly or biweekly. 

another thing that has become really popular (at least in the US) are altweeklies. there’s probably one of these in your state, and they generally have a huge focus on narrative journalism, come out weekly, and almost have a magazine-like feel? most probably started out as arts publications but now do a lot of news coverage to make up for the lack of coverage in their area. these are generally independently owned. if you’re curious, there’s a whole list of them here. 

essentially, if you’ve got a larger, conventional paper, it’s probably consolidating and the workers are suffering. if you’re in a tiny small town paper, it’s probably chill and if there’s ever any kind of real news, it’s the story of the fucking year. and if you’re at an altweekly, you’re kind of in the middle and maybe new to reporting news, since you have to make up for what your big city paper isn’t doing.

2. WHAT DOES YOUR CHARACTER DO? there are more people at a newspaper than writers and photographers! in fact, a lot of newspapers don’t really have staff photographers any more, just an army of freelance ones that they call on. here are some ideas for positions that your character can have:

intern: if your character is a writer under 25, they’re probably an intern. internships sometimes blossom into full-time gigs, if the paper is doing well enough to hire someone new on. 

staff writer: if your character is under 30, they’re probably one of the youngest people, if not the youngest, especially if they work in news (arts sections might have a few more younger people, but i’ve never really met a reputable news writer that wasn’t 30+). writers DO NOT spend much time in the office at all and are often on the go, running around, working from home, whatever, and popping into the office for meetings and such. seriously, they’re never there. 

freelance writer: maybe your character writes niche things on the side for a publication, like movie reviews, a political column, book reviews, etc. i know a woman that’s really into opera and she wrote into our paper asking if she could write about that so whenever there’s an opera she writes about it and that’s it. generally the people who have a column (doing reviews of some kind especially) are freelance and don’t work for the paper full time. so if your character is like a “book reviewer,” maybe consider having them do something else too. tbh, they’re probably an author. 

editor: this depends SO MUCH on the size of the paper. at the paper where i work, there’s a news editor and an arts editor. however, a tiny paper probably just has one editor for everything, and a larger paper probably has an editor for each and every section. so consider the size when you consider your character’s role, and seriously, if your character is younger, they will NOT be in this position. managing editors don’t rly exist any more unless you’re like the nytimes or something. even then. 

data journalists/data editor: again depending on the size of your paper, there’s probably one or no people that do this. however, this is becoming a crucial part of most newsrooms – people that do data analytics, build charts, work with lots of spreadsheets. these people do a lot of great shit and have been the frontrunners on a lot of big stories as of late. also, whenever you’re reading something and it’s got charts and graphs, it’s probably a data person behind that. this is really crucial with politics and elections, but also with all of the incoming data about climate change. 

web people: even the smallest fucking newsroom probably has one person who’s doing all the website stuff. web is just as important as print these days, as you probably know, and the only people surviving without good websites are the tiny small town papers because that’s a really niche market. but even they have websites, even if they’re not too snazzy! 

designers: so important!! these are the people that are at the office ALL THE FUCKING TIME, mainly because they can’t really do their work from home and they’re working on deadline, not only with the writers/editors but with the sales department too. where i work, the designers are loud and crass and fun and they’re all super close friends because like i said, they’re there all the time and a lot of late nights working on the paper and on ads and stuff.  

photographers: like i said, they’re mostly freelance and they want to be. but maybe if they have a really good relationship with the paper and have been there a while, they might have a full-time gig. jonathan byers would not have a full time job in 2019. 

sales team: even at the smallest of papers, there’s a good chance the sales team is the biggest team on staff. this is how newspapers rake in money, unless they’re on a nonprofit model, and in that case they probably don’t really have a sales team because they’re entirely funded by the readers (it works like NPR). sales team is probably in and out of the office a lot because they’re making sales calls and full of some interesting characters, you know, like on the office lmao. because of their relationships with businesses, it’s not uncommon for them to be the first ones to hear about a story OR to be the ones bitched at when a story portrays someone unfavorably, especially if its someone who advertises w the paper. 

marketing/social media: nonexistent in a small town paper, but otherwise, this is becoming a more crucial part of newspapers. a lot of newspapers also put on community events, so there’s a lot of event planning and promotion involved here too. 

secretary: a good job for a younger muse, probably answering phones and the door and organizing the calendar and helping with the classifieds and all of that bullshit. this person has to be a real people person. they’re also probably at the office all the time. 

publisher: head honcho! they generally own the damn place and make the calls on all the big picture decisions. if they’re not the owner, they’re still CEO-adjacent, yk?

3. YOUR MUSE PROBABLY WORKS WEIRD HOURS. like almost definitely. the news cycle is 24 hours and even if your character isn’t reporting on breaking news, they’re operating around other people’s schedules to get the story or put it in place, AND, yes, they’re probably working around breaking news or dealing with a crisis. or, unexpectedly, a story can go viral and that affects everyone in the office too. so, sometimes your muse might go into work at 11am and stay until 8pm or they’ll get called in at random times or have to go. this can lead to conflicts with other muses who don’t quite understand, or affect relationships when there’s an important moment and your muse has to jet off for work. it’s nice to keep in mind that your muse probably doesn’t just work 9-5. your muse also likely works holidays and such too, and if they’re not working, they’ve got their phone on them. always gotta be plugged in. more conflict! 

4. LAYOFFS. it’s impossible to talk about the industry without it. here’s a story my coworker told me the other day: “i just started my job at [redacted large paper] and the company was going through layoffs. since i was the new guy right out of college, i thought i’d be the first to go. but i wasn’t. they kept me and started laying off all the old-timers, people who had been with the paper forever.”  – THIS IS A HUGE STRAT FOR THESE CORPORATE PAPERS. it’s actually cheaper for them to keep the newer workers and lay off the people who have accrued a lot of benefits and pto and are close to retirement and such. this could be an interesting angle for a younger muse who’s pushed into a position of a lot of responsibility that they weren’t prepared for, or a muse who was at a paper and is layed off and now works for a smalltown type of paper – could be a fun sort of muse to play in your typical “small town” rps – some bigwig talent that’s now struggling after being laid off. the big name to know is gannett, who owns a huge majority of papers in places big and small, but they’re now merging with gatehouse...which is leading to even more consolidation right now.

p.s. if you’re curious, my coworker was eventually laid off from said [redacted large paper] later on

5. THE BIG SCOOP. your muse probably isn’t constantly on the scoop of the century, even at a big paper. especially if your muse is younger, they’re probably not being given that responsibility. so, if part of your plot is that your muse is breaking a big story, they probably don’t do that sort of thing all the time and it’s a big deal to them! it’s also not unusual for a writer to be working on a story over a long, long period of time, especially if it’s a very big story, or for them to be covering it in bites (like a murder trial). 

6. JACK OF ALL TRADES? writers especially are sort of expected to have a lot more proficiencies than just writing. you gotta be able to shoot your own videos and pictures too, add your posts to the web, so on. there’s more to it than just ‘writing,’ as you probably know. keep that in mind, although your muse might not LIKE that they need to do all of these things. 

7. FOLLOWING THE LAW! you’ve got to let people know that you’re interrogating them for the news, that they’re on the record, all of that shit. it’s hugely unethical if you don’t, and you can’t just be publishing people’s photos without their permission. you see a lot of movies where journalists go undercover and don’t tell people that they’re interrogating them for the paper and that probably wouldn’t happen (gale weathers from the scream movies would’ve been sued so fast for all of her defamation). also, newspapers spend a LOT of time dealing with government bureaucracy. like you expect a records request to get answered within the legal time frame, but it never fucking does, and often times you’re waiting on the state or even suing them for not sending you the records but they don’t give a fuck, they’re the state. it can be a lot of jumping over hurdles and through hoops to get any kind of info from the government...especially from the police. so even if information is supposed to be public, sometimes it can be a challenge to get, and maybe something your muse can struggle with. if your muse is in a roleplay where government workers are also present, this could be a fun plot/conflict to play out. 

#rpt #rpc #rpcha #rph #rpa #guide #*

[yyxgin]

i think what bugged me the most is i could say ‘they’re literal depression pills/they made me depressed’ and could reel off the side effect word for word (1/10 will experience mood swings (sometimes in the form of depression)) which was literally the first fricking side effect listed and the most common and she would still refer to it as me being sad literally seconds later in a convo. okay i never went to the doctor but when it occurred to me that, hey, something isn’t right, we were in the middle of a fucking pandemic!! i mean, we still are, but you get the point. this was right at the beginning when they basically closed everything as well so even if i wanted to i wouldn’t have been able to go see someone about it. but it’s whatever now, i don’t take them and i don’t have to give her any advice about them ✌️ i completely get the lack of validity about your emotions. that’s exactly how i felt.

i work so im not bothered about seeing people as i see them enough by my standards already but there is a helpful little voice in the back of my head reminding me that i still need to see my friends!! from before i got a job lol. i worked like 55 hours? my first proper week when i wasn’t on reduced hours and now i work maybe 30? which annoys me so i’m gonna ask for more bc i wanna buy a car and insurance. you still go to school, right? i feel like you’re more stressed about work considering you’re studying too. or were. have you just broken up from school? i don’t study, thank fuck, anymore, so i can do full time but i always get put on evenings so i’m thinking of getting a 9 to 5 bc then i can get the money i need.

a woman was rude to me bc her takeaway wasn’t ready bang on the clock when she turned up to pick it up. man it took literally every fibre in my being not to tell her to fucking leave me alone bc i’m a waitress?? what does she expect me to do??? i found out after but apparently our website tells you to allow a 15 minute slot when you order takeaway to pick up. i checked on this woman’s takeaway and told her it’d be ready in 10 minutes and she said sumn along the lines of ‘so 10 past 8?’. imma tell you straight i wasn’t looking at my phone so i assumed that meant the time was 8pm! (it wasn’t) she said to me ‘and i assume you’ll be knocking money off of the bill for that?’ and i politely replied ‘i can’t do that.’ bc i literally cannot. has to be a managerial figure. bearing in mind she’s already paid in full online???????? n she replies ‘do you wanna go suggest that?’ and nods towards the kitchen and i said no and walked off. the AUDACITY??? anyway i told my manager and she rolled her eyes and was like we don’t do partial refunds and said she’d talk to the woman when her order was ready. this woman was all up in my face saying ‘do you think that’s a reasonable time?’ asking if she should come back at 8:10 and im like idfk?? i have things to be doing can you fuck off?? no i didn’t say that but she says ‘i’ve got kids in the car with the engine running’ and i deadpanned ‘i didn’t tell you to leave your kids in the car with the engine running’ bc it was the first thing my brain thought of that wasn’t ‘sounds like a you problem to me’. in the end she left and came back but when she came back she was properly shouting at another waitress i work with and the girl was like 😄 your food was ready 20 minutes ago but you didn’t leave your details to be able to ring you to tell you it’s ready. she even re-mentioned the kids in the car saying they were starving and it was all our fault and the girl was like hmm okay. and then the woman said she was gonna leave a bad review on trip advisor!! and the waitress was like 😃 you do that bestie!! another great day on the grind :D (i forgot to say we were swamped on saturday so that’s why everything was so busy but she was literally the only one complaining that bad, like literally everyone could see we were struggling but they also were saying to wait staff things like ‘i know you can’t make things go quicker back there’ while we were apologising for the phat delay on their food).

another funny one (that made the barman laugh when i told it to him) was a grandma and a grandson in my section. the grandma was dictating his life jesus 😭 (not important but made me go 😳) but one of the girls cleared the table partially when i was doing sumn else so i finished it off and when we get back to kp she tells me the grandma complained the food was cold and without hesitation i said ‘well she fucking ate it all so tell her to fuck off and talk to someone who gives a shit’. she went quiet and i was like,, man i hope i didn’t scare her. but like. they cleared their plates. there was no food left. she didn’t call someone over. she didn’t say anything to anyone when they ask if it was okay. why wait until the end?? anyway i told thé barman and he giggled (he’s got a lovely laugh in my opinion bc it sounds like he’s snickering at everything). i was NOT going to tell my manager bc there’s literally no point. same day, later on, a man said his mussels were cold, i took them back and the kitchen cooked them again. i’d barely put the food down before he called me over (this one is a good one bc he hasn’t eaten EVERYTHING before complaining and therefore we can do something about the problem‼️) respect to that guy.

one of the girls gave me a lift home last night n the barman directed her right to my house without ever having been to my house before (his cousin used to live in the flats down the other end, he says) and when i messaged her later on thanking her and saying it was a bit sus that he directed her perfectly to mine n she said ‘hmm ben seems to go to yours more than he does his own home 🤔🤔🤔🤔’ bc apparently he was absolute shite at giving directions to his flat 😭 n e way he’s a sweetheart n he says he doesn’t like christmas anymore n he made me sad after he said that n i said i’d post coal through his letter box n he said i might as well n i was like okay this is an actual problem n now i’m gone be super nice to him at christmas bc he deserves so much more that the hand he’s been dealt. this convo happened after i let him try this herbal tea he said smelt nice n i said it tasted like christmas to me. he’s such a good person (despite literally everything he tells me about his past) n i cannot have him being a little humbug. god i think this crush i joked to you about is becoming a soft core friendship. like every fucking wattpad story out there. me n the girls agreed someone has to love him 🥺

okay im signing off now ily ~ 🌻

 i am glad you are feeling better though, nobody deserves to suffer. and nobody deserves to have their emotions invalidated. remember that your emotions matter at all times. <3

yesyes i am still in school !! altough my summer break started on july 1st so i am not that stressed about managing many things at once anymore hh,, also you are working so much ??? damn ?? please remember to take some breaks and relax !! and meet your friends !!! have fun. i know you are saving up money but please dont overwork yourself !

wHY ARE PEOPLE SO RUDE OH MY GOD I SWEAR,,, i learned that while working with people. i just,, it feels like they are all looking down on me just because i am young and work there part-time. like bro,,chill. also i feel kind of bad when they ask me where stuff is and i cant tell them bc i have no idea but at the same time if people were all introverts like me i wouldnt have this problem. :) dfjk jk jk i should improve on that. i wish people were more nice to you !!! who do they think they are ?? like,,,,,why are you rude. this is clearly not your problem.

i like it when people tell you respectfully. like the guy you mentioned. because clearly what are you going to do about the cold food when they’ve eaten it all. where’s the logic. 

IT SOUNDS LIKE HE IS OVER AT YOURS EVERY OTHER DAY DFJAKL that’s so funny. also i am bad at giving directions to my flat as well lmaoo poor ladies that drive me home from work sometimes. also i hate christmas as well lmaoo i feel that boy. its a little hard for me and i hope he doesn’t feel as bad during christmas this year when he has you around hihi,,, i fully stan this friendship. altough i am a big fan of friends to lovers if you know what i mean. in the energy of wattpad :))

ily !!!

#you can guess my mental stability by how quick i respond to asks #anyways #💌ask #🌻 anon

[thiswasinevitableid]

For the Meet Ugly Prompt: #23 Sternclary NSFW if you can :)

23: our mutual friend has been talking us up to the other and when we finally meet, we have to tell them that we’ve been in a feud for the last six years (and I can’t stop thinking of all the nice things our friend has said about you). NSWF

“EeEEH, I’m so excited for you to finally meet him.” Aubrey tugs her uncle down the hall, “he’s practically like another uncle to me, and he’s really such a fucking amazing cook--he made all the stuff tonight--so he’ll go with your whole foodie thing-”

“Critic, firebug, food critic” Stern smiles at her.

“Right, right, and he’s got the hunky lumberjack thing going that you know you love.”

“Geez, you buy one calendar-” he elbows her, chuckling. Then the world screeches to a halt. 

“Mr. Cobb.” He nods, polite as he can manage with rage-horns blaring in his head. 

“Stern.” The bearded man nods back, pushing off of the counter where he’s leaning, glass in hand, talking to Dani.

“Why do I have the bad feeling you two know each other.” Dani looks at her uncle nervously.

“You remember when Amnesty was first getting off the ground and we were struggling to get anyone to take us seriously? This” he points to Stern, no anger or ice in his voice but plenty in his eyes, “is the fucker who gave us the bad review that set us back months.”

“I was doing my job, I’ve told you that a dozen times since then, it was nothing personal. Unlike what you did afterwards.” He replies coolly. 

“Oh for fucks sake, I apologized for that.”

“Yes, two years after the fact, which hardly makes up for arguing with every review I wrote so forcefully that Hayes pulled me from the review circuit for months and made me do cookbook reviews instead.”

“Poor Stern, had to do a slightly different desk job while I was terrified the restaurant would go under.”

“You ended up fine, and if the food at Hornet is any indication, you improved.”

“Lucky me, getting such kind words from the illustrious Joseph Stern.”

“I was trying to-”

“Nevermind. I gotta go check the stuff on the grill.” He reaches the screen door to the back yard, then turns, “and I appreciate the thought, kid, but he’s just not my type.”

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

The problem is, of course, that Stern is exactly Barclay’s type. Or maybe he’s everyone’s type, all nice suits and handsome face and perfectly slicked down black hair. They’ve run across each other at plenty of food functions in the city over the last six years, and Barclay always feels like a scraggy mountain man standing near him. It doesn’t help that Stern talks about food the way other people talk about fine art, and Barclay could listen to him do it all day. 

He also tells really, really corny jokes when he thinks no one is listening, and Barclay hates his mouth for how many times it’s laughed at them. 

Making amends is the right thing to do, but every time he considered it his whole being--piloted by his ego-- recoils. 

But they’re going to be family soon. And his niece doesn’t deserve to deal with their feud. He picks up his phone, Stern’s number on his desk thanks to Dani’s wedding planning list. 

Me: This is Barclay. If you’re still reading, I think we should meet and talk things over. For real, not in the way we keep fucking up.

Stern: Why?

Me: Because your niece and my niece are getting married and I don’t want us bickering like jerks at the wedding.

Stern:Good point.

Me: Meet me at the Arch? Bar there is good.

Stern: Ok. 8 tomorrow work?

Me: See you then.

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

Stern fights the urge to shred his napkin as he waits at the bar. Maybe this is a set up, or a trap, or-

“Hey.” Barclay announces himself with a tap on the shoulder. His auburn hair is hanging loose, and the blue shirt he’s chosen brings out the brown of his eyes and the copper in his beard.

Stern should stop staring. 

He picks up the drink menu as Barclay sits down next to him, “Um, the, um, I can buy. Consider it another apology. What do you get?”

Barclay gives him a mild smile, “How about you pick for both of us?”

It’s an olive branch wrapped in a challenge, and so Stern studies the menu carefully. Chooses the Bigfoot, a mixture of bourbon, chocolate bitters, with a splash of cherry soda, for Barclay and and the Roswell (smoked prickly pear juice and tequila) for himself. 

“Good choice.” Barclay smiles at him over the rim of his glass, the first genuine smile he’s ever sent his way, and he straightens proudly at the praise. 

“I remember the drink menu at Hornet was bourbon heavy.”

“Goes with the food, but yeah, it’s my booze of choice.”

“So…” Stern swirls the toothpick in his drink, “how do you suggest we go forward?”

Barclay sighs, “Was kinda hoping you had some ideas.”

“Look, how about we agree that when we’re together for wedding planning stuff, we don’t talk about our history, restaurants or food that isn’t specifically related to the wedding menu?”

“Deal.” Barclay finishes his drink, “what do we talk about instead?”

“Books?” Stern signals the bartender, orders them both another round.

“Works for me. Hmm, lemme guess, you read those big-ass historical ones.”

Stern snickers, “I prefer mysteries, or well done travelogue.”

“You’ve read Bourdain, I’m guessing?”

“Of course. He put me on to a cooking memoir by, by, oh damn it all, he wrote that Madeline series.”

“Bemelmans! Shit, I love his memoirs. They’re my comfort reads along with My Life in France.”

“Classic.” 

Before Stern even knows it, an hour has gone by, they’re three drinks in, and he has a new reading list. He also sees now why Aubrey thought to set him up with the cook; Barclay is easy-going and friendly, even stopping their conversation to exchange hellos with several staff that recognize him, a needed counterpoint to his own professional demeanor. That soft, deep voice slips under his skin, sets his nerves humming, and Stern wants to move closer, let those capable hands do whatever they wished to him if it meant Barclay would keep stealing appreciative glances at him. 

Then he puts his foot in it.

“....food was just a little heavy, like how it is at Amnesty.”

Barclay frowns, “have you even been back there lately?”

“No, I assumed I’d be forcibly shown the door.”

“I would’ve been tempted, but I’m a fucking professional, thank you very much.”

“Besides, it wouldn’t prove your point; I know you’re the exec, but you don’t cook there anymore.”

“Hold the fuck up, it’s my cooking you think was the issue?”

“I didn’t mean that, just that...no, actually, I did mean it. That menu never played to your strengths.”

“That so.” Barclay slams his glass down, the dram undercut when he flashes an apologetic look at the waitstaff before standing in Stern’s space and looming over him, “my house, Tuesday at seven. I’ll show you exactly how good that menu can be in my hands.”

“I look forward to it.”

Barclay leans closer and whispers “bring an appetite” in his ear, voice just shy of a growl. 

Somehow, Stern doesn’t think he’ll have trouble doing so.

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

Stern knocks on the door of the modest house. He knows Barclay is now worth quite a bit of money, so the fact he’s chosen an A-frame that looks like it belongs in Tahoe is charming. As was the afternoon they spent with their (clearly relieved) nieces testing out wedding cake ideas. Barclay even laughed at his corny puns and complimented his flavor choice (and how the suit he’s having fitted for the ceremony fit him).

“Come in.” 

He steps into the house, finds the kitchen off to the right, just beyond the dining room. There’s only one place set at the table, and when Barclay comes into view he sees why. The taller man is in his chefs whites, hair tied back, making Stern relieved he’s wearing a suit. 

“Should I…”

“Take a seat, first course is gonna be out shortly.”

“Right, of course--what’s that sound?” Something is whining behind a door down the hall.

“Hmm? Oh, just Sass, he heard someone come in and wants to be the welcoming committee. He’ll chill out in a sec, he has a dog puzzle there to keep him occupied.” Barclay turns back into the kitchen as Stern sits down. Thanks to the pass through, he can watch as he pulls down a plate and sets three parcels of dough on it. 

“You’re getting tasting portions” he sets the plate down, “I’m not blowing through a bunch of ingredients just to prove a point. Smoked salmon pierogies to start.”

Stern takes one bite and knows he’s beaten. The filling is perfectly seasoned, feels like butter in his mouth, and the dough is impeccably made. Maybe it’s a fluke, but all three are gone before Barclay sets the next plate in front of him.

“Bacon, arugula, goat cheese, and blueberry jam on sourdough.” The aroma from the sandwich is intoxicating. 

The first course was not a fluke, and he moans after taking a bite. Barclay chuckles, turning back to the kitchen. 

“So, Aubrey told me something interesting.” Barclay says casually as he slices what looks like lamb, “she said you don’t only write about food.”

“Oh lord.” Embarrassment creeps up his back, so he focus on his meal.

“Weekly World News is almost as good a byline as the Times.”

“Please don’t say more.”

“Bigfoot is my boyfriend’ was especially good.”

“Oh lord, you looked them up?”

“Yep, Aubrey gave me your pen name. I had a blast reading them, you should, uh, let that funny side out more.” The oven shuts and he returns to the table leaning against the counter of the pass through, “gonna be a minute more on the third course. How is it so far?”

“Incredible.”

“Glad to hear it.” Barclay wipes his hands on his apron and Stern has a moment of clarity; the cook is nervous.

“Can I tell you something nobody else knows? I, um, I’m working on a pitch that combines the two. I want to travel to famous paranormal locations and write about local food at the same time.”

“That sounds amazing.” Barclay pulls out a chair, “do you know if anyone’ll take it?”

“I’m trying some magazines and websites first, to see if they’ll pick it up as a series, which’d make it easier to jump to a book later on.”

A timer dings and Barclay stands, returning with a lamb pot pie for one that Stern eats without concern for how conspicuous his sounds of delight are getting. 

Dessert arrives on a small, round plate. Stern tucks into the airy chocolate strawberry cake with raspberry sauce on the side, notice Barclay already washing up. Pity, he was hoping he could stay and talk awhile. There’s only a bite or two left when he decides to admit defeat.

“This is one of the best meals I’ve ever had, Barclay. Whatever you were trying to prove, you proved.”

“Good.” Is all he gets in reply. 

“Barclay, I have to know: I wasn’t the only critic to give a less than stellar review of Amnesty when it opened. We both know that. So...why me? Why act as if I was the one who wronged you.”

Barclay turns, wiping his hands on his apron before hanging it up as he sighs, “yeah, you weren’t the only bad one, but the Times held more weight than any other food section in the city. When you reviewed us we were floundering, and when I saw it I just, I almost gave up; I’d put everything, my heart, my soul, my last dime, into Amnesty. And here was some critic basically dooming us. But once I was done being upset, I got pissed, threw myself into proving the bad reviews wrong and you, uh, you became the avatar for every critic who wrote us off as not being fancy enough to compete in the food scene here.”

“Are, did you make me your  fucking mental punching bag?” Stern stands just as Barclay leaves the kitchen.

“Yeah, and I’m not fucking sorry. That spite was the kick I needed.”

“And it nearly cost me my job, and my reputation!”

“Maybe you should have lost both, given that you helped Hayes shoot down anyone who threatened the old guard.”

“No I fucking didn’t! I fought him time and again to let me review new chefs, feature them, praise them. Lord almighty Barclay, I’m not some soulless fucking machine who just does as I’m told. In fact-” they’re toe to toe, his lower back to the table, as he pulls out his phone and searches, “even in my review, the one you hated, I was defending you, telling people to give you a chance.”

“Like hell you were.” Barclay snorts. 

“I’ll prove it, here” he clears his throat, reads off an excerpt, “Chef Cobb is clearly talented, with a sense of flavor that’s at once exciting and comforting. It is my hope that as Amnesty leaves it’s growing pains behind, we will see incredible offerings from him. There.” He tosses his phone on the table, “see?”

Barclay stutters once, twice, then mutters, “finish your meal, Stern.”

“No, not until you apologize.”

“Jesus christ, just eat the fucking cake!”

“Make me!”

Barclay inhales, long and measured, as he reaches around Stern and picks up the bite of cake. When he holds it to Stern’s lips, he keeps them in a firm line. 

“Open. your fucking. Mouth.”

“Fuck youOghm” he flails backwards, hand landing on his plate as Barclay shoves the cake into his mouth. He’s never had sweetness applied so forcefully, and the part of him that isn’t annoyed is screaming with arousal. 

He swallows, feels something sticky on his fingertips. 

Barclay leers, rumbles, “that’s bet-”

Stern smears his hand across his face, streaking raspberry sauce on his cheeks and mouth. 

Barclay licks his lips, growls, and lunges forward at the same moment Stern grabs his shoulders and pulls. Teeth connect first with his neck, then his lower lip before Barclay shoves their mouths together, moaning when Stern tugs their hips flush. Grinds against him so hard the table digs into his back as they yank ineffectively at each other’s clothes. 

“Tell me, Stern, four courses enough for you?”

“I’m satisfied. Barely.” He bites Barclay’s ear, making him grunt. 

“Barely? Barely? Fine, think I got one more you. On your fucking knees.” Strong hands shove him down by his shoulders, or they try to; he’s already dropping, panting in anticipation as he fumbles with Barclay’s pants. When he finally gets a look at his cock he groans hungrily at the size, lips staying parted as Barclay guides it between them with one hand and yanks his hair with another. 

He’s craving, praying for, and expecting roughness. Even so, he gags when Barclay thrusts as far as he can, toes curling and eyes watering as he bumps the top of his throat again and again.

“Fuck, fuck, there we go” he tugs his hair, wonderful pain prickling his neck and making him moan, “oh fuck yeah, every time I do that you tighten, so good, so fucking good.” He tightens his hold, fucking his mouth harder as Stern brings a hand up to stroke the base of his cock, “nmm, yeah, that’s it, show me what those hands are good for, god, fuck, Joe.” 

Stern whimpers, delighted at how his name sounds in that rough, demanding baritone. 

“Shit, fuck, you want something else to swallow tonight?”

He nods, paws at Barclays thigh. 

“Then you, fuck, you got it, fuckfuck Joe, baby, that’s it ohfuck.” Cum spurts down his throat and he swallows like he’s starving, licks and sucks when Barclay orders him to finish it all. 

As soon as the cook releases him, he drops to his knees on the hardwood next to Stern. Stern, for his part, is wondering if Barclay will at least let him hide in his bathroom a few minutes so he doesn’t have to drive home hard and soaking wet. 

Then his back hits the floor, one calloused hand cupping his face and the other yanking his pants open so messily a button goes flying. 

“I, you, you don’t have to-”

“Do you want me to?” Barclay pauses, meeting his eyes with such genuine, tender concern that he melts like butter in a pan. 

“Lord yes.”

Barclay’s hand slips beneath his boxer-briefs, three fingers sliding into him when he spreads his legs.

“Fuck, fuck, ohlord, Barclay, just a little shallowerAHfuck, yesright, right there.” He cranes his neck and Barclay gets the hint,dipping down to kiss him to the slick sound of his fingers fucking into him. 

Jerking his hips, he can’t find the friction he needs, so he reaches between them and tilts Barclay’s hand so his dick can drag across his palm. His vocabulary has diminished to affirmation laced profanity (or profanity laced affirmatives) and Barclay is faring the same, growling praise in his ear as he gives him more pressure to rut against. 

“Lookit you, god, shoulda known you’d look as good fucking as you do eating. Take me so well, gonna find every way to fill you.”

“Please.” He whispers, eyes squeezing shut in concentration.

“Gonna spread you out on a table and eat you like a fucking gourmet meal, gonna fuck that perfect mouth til your so full of cum you can’t swallow any more.”

“Lord, Bar, Barclay, please don’t stop, don’t tease.”

“Who said anything about teasing?” A tender kiss to the corner of his mouth even as the hand fucks him hard enough to make him cry out, “you’re my new favorite taste, babe, and I got so many fucking plans for you.”

Stern cums so abruptly his leg kicks out and bangs his heel on a table leg, but he doesn’t feel it. His would is the pleasure speeding through him, the repetition of Barclay’s name, the affection that overwhelms him and the fear nipping at it’s heels. 

He comes back to himself on his side, face nestled against Barclay’s chest. 

“Christ, think we both needed that.” The cook sighs, content, and pets his hair. 

“I, um, I certainly no longer feel the need to argue with you over things from six years ago.”

“Me neither. And, uh, I’m sorry for being a dick for so long.”

“And I’m sorry for the spot my review put you in.” 

Barclay laughs, shaking his head, “only took six years and some killer sex to get us there, huh?”

“It is pretty silly, in retrospect.”

“Your foot okay?”

“Uh huh. I, um, I can be out of your hair in a moment.”

Barclay raises an eyebrow, “because you want to be or because you think you should be?”

“The second one.” 

“Don’t gotta leave on my account. In fact, uh, I, uh, I was hoping maybe you’d stay. I want to test out some breakfast ideas on you. Also I like cuddling you and don’t want to stop.”

“A compelling argument. Though we should move to the bed.”

“On it.” Barclay stands, scoops him up with some effort, and carries him precariously to the still-shut bedroom door.

“Damn it.”

“On it.” Stern reaches out and turns the knob, whereupon Barclay barely gets him to the bed without dropping him, as Sass is boinging about their feet.  

“What kind-”

“Rottweiler, corgi, spaniel. I think. Not sure where the huge feet came from.” Barclay cuddles up next to him as he strips off his clothes. As he rolls under the covers, Barclay nuzzles his cheek.

“Would, um, would you like to try having a, um, a different kind of relationship? Like a dating one?”

“I’d love it.” 

Barclay’s smile is pure bliss, and when he kisses him, it’s the best taste in the world 

#agent stern/barclay #sternclay #chef AU #meet ugly #prompt fills #trans stern

[purplesurveys]

918

Have a friends survey, because I’m really missing mine.

-- List 8 Friends of Either Gender --

1. Andrew 2. Jo 3. Aya 4. Gabie 5. Hannah 6. Angela 7. Laurice 8. Aliyah

Questions About These Friends

Does number 4 have a driver’s license? Yeah. I’m pretty sure we were part of the first few people in our high school batch who learned how to drive and get our licenses.

Can number 7 speak another language? Well yeah, she can speak Filipino. Everyone on the list can at least speak Filipino.

Does 2 know your parents well? Not so much. She knows the basic stuff about my parents that I tell everyone, like how my dad works abroad.

Have 3 and 5 been in the same room together? Multiple times, until Aya graduated. All three of us were in the same applicant batch in our org so we spent a loooot of time together.

Does 1 have similar music tastes to you? Broadly, yeah. I know we both like R&B and hip-hop but he’s faaaar more passionate about the genre and he’s a lot better at picking out artists and songs.

Has 6 ever stayed at your house? She’s visited a handful of times, but I prefer going to her house instead. I don’t really have a lot to offer here whereas we never run out of things to do at her place.

When did 3 last text you? If we are talking of strictly texts, November 2018. Aya was never a good replier on text lol. But my last notification of her in general was at 4 AM today, when she sent a meme to our friends’ group chat.

Does 5 have any pets? If so, what do they have? Nope. WELP I don’t know actually. She lives all the way in Bacolod so her home life doesn’t get raised much. I know she loves dogs though.

Does 7 live in the same town/city as you? Nah, she’s a south baby through and through.

Have you ever lent something important to 8? I’ve never even met her yet. We keep planning to especially since she works in Metro Manila now, but our schedules just never work out.

Can number 1 sing well? Yes. He’s done a lot of singing gigs and as far as I know he even put out an EP at one point. He has a sick stage name too.

Does 2 have any siblings? Nah, she’s an only child.

If 4 called you at 2 AM, what would your reaction be? Take it and assume she has trouble falling asleep.

Who is 8′s best friend? I’m not sure; I don’t know her all that well. I would assume it’s someone all the way in Mindanao, since that’s where she grew up and went to school and her whole life is there - she really only moved to Metro Manila for work. That’s why I feel for her sometimes and keep offering to meet up, so she can feel less lonely.

Does 6 have a favourite tv show? If so, what is it? She loooves watching TV series but I never knew what her favorite is. Good question, I’ll have to ask her this soon.

Who out of 5 and 7 knows you the best? I say they both know me on the same level but I think Laurice does slightly more. We’ve had deeper conversations, so it’s a safe guess.

Does 4 have a boyfriend/girlfriend? You are reading her answers right now. ;)

Does 2 have a career/knows what they want to be? Yes, she’s always wanted to be a journalist. She’s entering her senior year now and I’m really proud and super impressed with her for being able to keep up such a demanding, brutal passion; I was burned out from journ by freshman year. She even helps run a fact-checking website now :) It had just been a requirement in her class to come up with a fact-checking website but theirs got SO successful, racked up some awards, and now it’s still going.

Have you ever kissed 1? No. He’s like a brother to me and that just sounds like the weirdest scenario.

Does 3 have or want children? Yes. I know she wanted them when she was with Jo, but I’m not sure if she’s changed her mind lately.

Does 6 have any piercings or tattoos? Yep, on her ears.

Do your parents know 8? No. She’s an internet friend, so I never get to raise it in conversations. And I doubt they’ll be happy if they found out I made a friend on the interwebs anyway.

Which Number...

Have you had romantic feelings for? 4.

Have you told a secret to? 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6,7, 8. I’m pretty open with my secrets, as dumb as that sounds lol

Have you shared a bed with? 2, 3, 4, 6, 7.

Have you watched a movie with? I remember watching The Devil Wears Prada with 2 and 3. I’ve watched several movies with 4.

Have you seen cry? 2, 3, 4, 6.

Have seen you cry? 1, 4, 5. 5 hasn’t seen me cry but she has definitely heard me.

Have cooked you something? 6 and 7 :) They’re also the biggest mom friends on the list, so I’m not surprised.

Have a boyfriend/girlfriend? 1, 4, 6. I’m not sure if 2 and 3 are still together; we never get to update each other anymore. Have met your parents? 2, 3, 7 from a meeting we once held at my house. And 4 and 6, of course - they’re my mom’s favorites.

Have been to the same school/college as you? Everyone except 8.

About Number One What age are they? He turned 22 in June.

Have you met their parents? Never. He can’t give less of a shit about his dad so I don’t care for him, though. I know he’s super protective of his mom.

Have you ever been in a relationship with them? Not at all. He wouldn’t be my type, and like I said he’s a brother to me more than anything else.

Do they like most of your other friends? We mostly have mutual friends, so. I know he likes my best frieinds though - he was even the one who reminded me about putting Angela on my thesis acknowledgments.

How often do you two meet up and/or talk? Back in school we used to see each other around 1-2 days a week. He’s a little busier than I am since he takes side gigs, so he’s not in campus all the time.

When did you last argue? We’ve never fought but the last time I got quite upset with him was last December. We were rushing to get our thesis draft submitted on time and apparently he submitted the file to our professor’s VIBER. He for sure got an earful from me that day.

What is their favourite food? I’m not sure. He does tend to have unpopular food opinions so I wouldn’t be surprised if his favorite is not a common choice.

Where is their favourite place to be? On the basketball court or anywhere with Leigh, I’m guessing.

How many close friends do they have? I know of at least two - JM and Blanch. He is friendly and has an extensive circle though, so I’m sure I’m missing several other close friends of his.

Number Two What colour are their eyes? Dark brown.

Have they known you the longest? Not at all. I’ve only known her for three years.

Where were they born? I’m guessing it would either be Manila or Makati.

Why are they your number 2? She just fell on the second slot. I was trying to randomize my friends’ names and hers just turned out to be the second one I thought of.

Do they like children? I don’t know how she feels about them exactly but one thing I know is that she doesn’t hate kids, and we’ve had numerous conversations on what we’d do in certain scenarios involving kids. 

Would they beat you in a race? I think so. But then again I did track at one point, so I’m walking onto that contest already with an advantage.

When did you last spend time alone together? Ugh c’mon man, this question is just sad. Jo had been hanging out at Skywalk less and less ever since most of the people in our friend group graduated last school year, so our last real hangout was probably that time we slept over at Laurice’s in June 2019. We never hung out a lot after that, and of course the lockdown just killed any chances we had of doing so.

Do they have a pet peeve? What is it? She has a lot of pet peeves but I can’t place any of them at the moment.

Number Three What is their hair colour? Black, as do most Filipinos.

What is their job, if they have one? Last I heard she got a gig with a major broadcasting network. I think she’s a segment producer? Segment researcher? Something of the sort.

Do they have their own place? I don’t think so; not just yet.

How many brothers or sisters do they have? I know she has a sister. I’ve forgotten if she has a brother.

Have you ever done something illegal with them? Yes hahaha illegal in university terms, at least. When we had free time and we saw that no one was using one of the classrooms in the college, our friend group snuck inside and played The Devil Wears Prada on the projector. As the only goody-two-shoes in the group I was super uneasy the whole time, but literally no faculty or staff checked in on us for the entire film. That was the moment I knew I was no longer in private school, where everyone watched you like a hawk lol.

How old were you when you met each other? I was 19, she was 21.

Are they more sporty, arty or academic? ARTSY. She’s one of the best artists I’ve ever seen and she can absolutely fucking slay any editorial cartoon.

Have you ever travelled out of country with this person? Nope. I would love to.

Person Four Do they have a favourite musician? St. Vincent’s been her fave for the longest time.

Have you drank alcohol with this person? Many times. When I drink she’s usually around.

Are their parents together? Yes.

What do you enjoy doing with them? EATING OUT!!! I also love going to new places and museum strolling with her, but yeah nothing works for me better than food with my favorite person.

When is their birthday? June 5th.

Do they have long or short hair? Long.

Have you been to a concert with this person? Yes, when we went to (illegally) see Coldplay from the top of a parking lot. Still felt like we were part of the concert grounds though.

If you asked them to describe you, what do you think they would say? Determined, hates to lose, and annoyingly generous.

Person Five Where did you two meet? I met Hannah on our enrollment day for our sophomore year in college. She and Macy had transferred from UPLB to UPD and since Macy and I were already friends from high school, she introduced me to Hannah. Then we became a lot closer when it turned out we were both applying for the same org.

How long ago did they phone you? We both hate phone calls and we’d hate to call/be called.

Do they have a certain sport they play? I don’t think she’s very athletic herself, but she loves watching UAAP games and she has a particular affinity for volleyball.

What about them annoys you sometimes? I never found her annoying. I did notice that her one weakness as a co-worker is her fear of being assertive, putting her foot down, being confident to come up with her own steps on how to come up with steps towards a situation, that kind of stuff. She often wanted someone who she felt like was more knowledgeable to be by her side and make all the decisions. But I did see her bloom a bit after a few months, so I’m proud of the progress.

Are they ruled by their head or their heart? Heart.

Are they male or female? Female.

In what ways are they the opposite of you? She’s religious and she loves to sing and perform.

How many rooms do they have in their house? No clue; I’ve never been to her house. I’ve never even been to her city.

Person Six Can they play an instrument? I think she knows *a bit* of guitar. But she’s not crazy gifted when it comes to musical instruments, I know that much.

Are they close with their mother? VERY. And she has no reason not to be - her mom is the nicest and most compassionate person I’ve ever met. Always treated me like family.

Do you know any of their siblings well? She’s an only child.

How many times have you visited their house? Countless, especially in high school and in our first few years in college.

When did you last go out to eat together? Feb. It was one of the food stalls at The Palace and we needed to eat away all the alcohol lol.

Do they own a bike? I haven’t seen one in her place so I’m assuming no. Her neighborhood is not very bike-friendly to begin with, so it’s understandable.

Do they have a sweet, sour or salty tooth? She has a...green tooth? Hahahaha she likes eating healthily.

What music genre do they listen to most? Pop, pop rock, indie, indie rock.

Person Seven Would you ever consider dating this person? Probably not. She’s SO stable and happy; I’m still working on it. I wouldn’t want to dump my shit on her vibrant and bubbly outlook on life.

Do they prefer cats or dogs? Dog, I think. I don’t know for sure though. 

Are they or do they plan to go to college? To study what? Yes, she’s in her senior year now. She’s also taking up journalism – it’s how we met.

If they did something illegal, what would it be? I highly doubt that would ever happen lmao, she’s super nice and such a goody-two-shoes. If she got caught doing something illegal it’s 100% only because she was with someone who did the thing.

Have you ever shared a sundae with this person? Maybe once or twice.

is their hair dyed or natural? It’s all black now, but at one point she dyed it light brown.

Is this person sarcastic? She can be, especially with people she’s close to.

Is this person more likely to party or sit in and read a book? SIT IN AND READ A BOOK. Literally the most accurate option.

Person Eight Have you ever lied to this person? I probably have. We’ve only ever talked on social media, where it’s a lot easier to tell a tiny lie and get away with it.

Do you know where this person was born? Somewhere in Davao I’m assuming.

Do you know their middle name and do they know yours? We know each others’ second names because have them put out on Facebook; but not our middle names.

Do they have any special talents? If she does, I don’t know about them. She’s amazing at writing though.

What is their starsign? Whatever star sign falls on the first half of December.

What is the first thing you notice about this person? Ever since the time she tweeted that she doesn’t like smiling with her teeth, her smile has always been the first thing I’m drawn to. 

Have you ever had a big row with this person? Never.

Do you like the same types of movies as this person? Not really. We met because she was friends with my friends who liked the same things she did, but when it comes to us we couldn’t really be any more different.

Random Stuff

Which of these friends would you say you are the closest to? Gabie, of course.

Can you remember all of their birthdays? I’ll give it a shot. June 22, December 31, December 5, June 5, January 16, September 15, May 23...and Aliyah’s is in early December, I’m certain.

Is there anything you regret saying to any of them? I guess only towards Gab, because I’m closest with her and we’ve been through the most together.

Which one of these has been there for you the most? Angela.

Which one have you known the longest and the shortest amount of time? I’ve been aware of Gabie the longest (18 years); been friends with Angela the longest (15 years); and been friends with Andrew the shortest (about a year and a half).

If you needed a laugh, you'd call... I wouldn’t call my friends if I needed help...but if I needed a laugh I’d turn to Anj or Andrew.

If you needed advice, you'd call... Mmm I’d pick among Andrew, Aya, Gabie, Angela, and Laurice.

Which one does your parents like the most? ANGELAAAAAAAA. She’s That friend that I can name-drop when I’m asking for permission to go out, and once my mom hears that she’s going to be with me she usually won’t hesitate to say yes haha.

Is there any of these your parents dislike? They don’t dislike any of them but I have a feeling they’ll disapprove of the fact that I made an online friend in Aliyah, especially my mom.

Do any of them share the same initials? Andrew and Aliyah do.

You can invite one with you for a once in a lifetime trip, which one? Angela.

Something you'd like to say to one of them: I miss you. That applies to everyone.

#survey #surveys #friends survey

[youallruinmylife]

I know this is tumblr and everyone’s Woke. But I better not fucking hear anyone saying they’re not going to vote if the democratic they want doesn’t win. I don’t care whose running against Trump if you don’t fucking vote for them what are you doing? We don’t have time for another “my vote doesn’t count” “I’m sending a message by not voting.”

No! FUCK that!!

I know everyone wants Bernie and I do too or whoever you wanted but if people don’t go out and fucking vote in November I’m going to lose my mind. I know it’s coronavirus so who even knows what’s going to happen but vote from home, do whatever you have to! I cannot fucking take another presidency from this fucking racist, sexist, lying piece of shit. Yes Hilary won the popular vote so I get it the majority of people DIDN’T want him. You’re right. But if we’d had a bunch more people go out and vote maybe she’d have won by a landslide. I know it’s not fair and fuck American politics and Bernie ride or die or whatever you believe but Trump cannot win again.

Look around you. If you live in America you can see Trump is not doing a good job. Hell, if you live outside of the U.S. you can probably see us being made fun of or it’s said how crazy America is right now. And you’re right but I’m not here to make fun of American politics. VOTE in the election!

I’m sorry for shouting so much and know that if anyone ever wants to talk to me about anything on tumblr I am still here. But I am angry about this and I actually am going to go off.

Because I’m not saying this shit for drama my mom and sister might fucking die because of this. Trump isn’t funding our hospitals, he says nurses are hoarding the ventilators, their PPE, he says hospitals have more than enough and he’s NOT HELPING THEM. He’s going to be the death of these nurses. My mother, a 50 year old woman with cancer, is going into the hospital and doing her job as an ER nurse. She could very well die from this. They don’t have enough PPE (personal protection equipment i.e. masks, safety glasses, gloves, gowns, etc) and their hospital is overwhelmed with coronavirus patients. She doesn’t have a mask most days. She has taken over as instructing nurses because they are so short staffed, overworked, and there aren’t enough nurse practitioners. There isn’t order and there isn’t enough PPE. People are dying everyday.

My sister is a nurse at Detroit hospital. She works in the ICU. They don’t have enough ventilators. They give patients 10 minutes on the ventilator and if they can’t get the patient breathing again after 10 minutes the team moves on and that person DIES. Those are the choices nurses and doctors are being forced to make now. ‘You don’t have enough resources to save everyone, so which patient has to die?’ Because there is no option to save everyone. There isn’t even an option to save the medical staff. An Italian nurse who contracted coronavirus was being sent back to work to treat patients and she KILLED HERSELF to avoid giving it to patients.

A six week old baby in Connecticut got corona and the baby DIED.

My mom has cancer. My sister is working with the sickest of the sick. My family may be slashed in half over this fucking virus and the President isn’t trying to HELP them!!! Don’t let this fucker win! Don’t let him be the fucking president again PLEASE. PLEASE!! Please please I’m begging you he’s killing my family.

I never go on here to ask for money. I’ll never ask for money, I’ll never ask for help with finances or likes and people who do are fine but please god please this is the only time I will come onto this website begging, BEGGING, people to do something. Please vote in the presidential election. My mom and sister might fucking die and there’s nothing I can do about it but stay home and make masks, try and send food because we don’t even have the proper material to make these masks. My mom- my mother my parent please guys- and my sister, my best friend, the people I’ve grown up with might die. It’s extremely, extremely likely one if not both of them are going to die. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I just get to fucking watch people say they won’t vote unless it’s the candidate they want. And they’re tired of staying at home so they’re going to go on a fucking VACATION. People are fucking flying across the country, they can’t even be bothered to fucking stay home and my family is dying. They’re fucking dying taking care of people who are also dying and some of those people are treating them like shit. My family might die so if y’all could just go and fucking vote when the times comes and never let this man be president again at least that would be good. At least that could make some semblance of a fucking difference.

STAY AT HOME and FUCKING VOTE at the presidential election. Please god please, please stay home and please Jesus please vote please

#personal #guys I’m serious #i don’t care if i come off as preachy or pranoid please #please my family might fucking die #im so scared and I try not to think about it but I can’t even fucking focus on anything else please stay home #please stay home #please VOTE #please I am begging you to vote against Donald Trump in the election whoever his opponent is #coronavirus #nurses #emotional #sorry yikes #but shit gets heavy #i fucking go off

[amnachil]

The College Society Chapter 4 Part 6

The next part!

Some feelings ;)

Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey Thursday April 4

"You should have tell me sooner."

Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey rolled his eyes. As if it would have change anything.

"Archie and I have this shit under control. There isn't much you can do."

Even through the phone, he guessed she was annoyed. D.R didn't like to be kept in the dark. Especially on that matter. Archie had insisted : they had to warn her about Nate. And I guess he's right.

"The victim isn't from our college anyway." he continued. "You can't make further investigations."

"I get that." she sighed. "But I'm a specialist with a diploma. I know Archie must've been a good support, but he isn't trained. What if he reawken his own traumas ? You remember as well as me how hard healing him had been the first time... I never had a case like his before... And by judging his ever expanding pack, we can tell he isn't completely cured."

"Yeah but until now, he's fine. And I think he can learn from this experience. For fucksake, I'm not stupid."

Seriously it was so annoying. He knew how to help people, he wasn't some heartless jerk ! D.R was the kind of person to worry anyway.

"Let's say I'll trust you on this for now." she decided. "I'll send a girl to watch discreetly over him when he goes out anyway. Sadly, I don't have any boy working for me. And once he's ready to be seen, you bring him to me. Now let's talk about our second... matter. My team didn't manage to get to the root of the website. Our prankster is good and we can't do much as long as he remains anonymous."

Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey gnashed his teeth. Damnit this is so fucking frustrating.

"This hunt is totally unethical." he grumbled. "There is nothing you can do ?"

"Well, I agree with you. A bounty for a prey isn't something I can tolerate." she replied. "But what do you want me to do ? I can order all the hunters to stop coming close to him but that's include you. There's no way I will treat you differently."

But this baboon is mine ! I'm his fucking boyfriend god damnit ! It made him think about what Zack had told him. I'm not ready to admit it yet. Not that he wasn't happy with the baboon but... He could already imagine the reaction of the community. The laughs and the teasing. They would never let him go away with that. Everything he had built so far would be wrecked.

"Forget it." he mumbled. "Let them try to catch the prey and fail miserably. It'll be fun to watch."

After all, many of them had already tried. And nobody had succeeded.

Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey tasted his pancake. They were delicious. Of course they're... I'm the best. But still, he was a bit worried. It was their first date since Liam had discovered the truth about Nate, and the Dean's grandson couldn't help but be stressed. What if his baboon held a grudge against him for having lied ? Liam was probably too concerned about the midget to truly enjoy a date with his newly boyfriend anyway. They weren't that close and... Stop. Wait a fuckin second. What the hell ?! Was he, the best hunter, seriously thinking like a weakling ? This is... Man I just don't get it. Why am I stressing over something like that ? Is it because... It was so hard to admit it. The baboon wasn't any boyfriend. He was nothing like his precedent relationships. It was the reason Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey couldn't resolve himself to reveal the truth to the community. Because in barely five month, Liam became an important part of his life...

"Hey Dami, you okay ?"

Speaking of the devil, the baboon had arrived. Albeit against his will, the Dean's grandson ogled him. Damnit. Not only he had a great and unique (very unique) personnality, but he was hot for crying out loud ! Was it these strong arms ? Or maybe these thick thighs ? Or the eighth wonder of the world that was his ass ? It could've been these insane pecs or the little portliness of his belly... Anyway SOMETHING was attracting Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey like hell.  He wanted to cuddle Liam like... forever. At least feel his strong yet soft body against his. And his damn hands. Big and warm ! Okay. Let's breath and stop being such a shame for myself.

"Dami ? Are you talking with the alien forces ?" asked the baboon, who suddenly stroke his cheek.

"What the... No. No." he stammered, now more than flustered. "I was just thinking about some stuff."

His boyfriend smiled. What a smile. Damn I hate him so much.

"Nate and I talked a bit." he suddenly revealed. "It's kind of clearer for me. He doesn't want to tell me for now, he doesn't felt ready and I respect thtat. He assured me I'm important for him and this is why it's so hard for him to talk... At least thanks to Archie, I know what I have to do now. I was so lost and pissed... I owe you an apology for my behavior this night."

The junior looked at him with amazment. This dummy was apologising ? Seriously ? Baboon, when I'll be used to all your cuteness and not affected by it anymore, I'll teach you how to be a little less sweet.

"You owe me shit." he retorted. "Nate is your bestfriend for a lifespan. After what happened to him, you have the right to be mad or whatever. And I'm the one sorry for having lied to you like that. I know we ain't dating for long and I'm already failing... I told you I suck at being a boyfriend so I guess it's also your fault for..."

Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey was so busy talking, he didn't notice the baboon move. Liam embraced him with both arms and kissed him softly.

"Trust me Dami, you are wonderful and I'm not asking for anything more than you being yourself. You're doing an amazing job at this boyfriend's stuff and that's pretty normal because you're the best."

Okay. I wasn't expecting that at all. The blond lad buried his red face on his boyfriend's chest. What should I do ? This is so nice and so corny ! He needed a way to regain composure. To take the lead again ! Because there was no way, absolutely none that the baboon was consoling him !

"I'm sure you're sayin' that only for the pancakes." he finally whispered, not convincing at all.

It made Liam laugh.

"I'm not." he stated. "But the pancake definitely help your case babe."

Liam Saturday April 6

Nate grunted. Well, he was grunting a lot since the... The rape. According to him, it was because he wasn't feeling like talking. Anyway, so he grunted. Liam had learnt how to distinguish a frustrasted grunt from a scared one. Or, although it sheldom happen, an amused grunt. This one belonged to the last category. Well, the situation was kind of amusing to be fair. At first, they had head out only to go to the stadium, were the football team was gonna play soon. It was the only event Nate had agreed to come because Archibald was playing and Liam had insisted. So they were casually walking to join Nick, Colton and Dami when they encountered the witch. Which was why they were now hiding behind a low wall.

"How long are we supposed to stay here ?" asked Nate.

"Not so loud bro !" replied (not so discreetly) his bestfriend. "I swear, she'll kill us if she find us. Let's crawl over there."

The shortest lad rolled his eyes but obeyed nonetheless. He certainly didn't want to be killed by the witch. She's very persistent. But I'm getting used to her tricks now. They managed to move for ten meter at least before she decided to come in their direction. Liam froze, and held Nate next to him. First, I protect Nate. Then I run. (Sure he was taller and way beefier than her but she had magical powers, remember ?!).

"Do you need help ?" asked someone.

The chestnut lad raised his head and looked at the newcomer. She was a tall but thin girl. Her pale skin planted an idea in Liam's head.

"We're trying to enter the stadium." explained Nate before he could speak. "But we need to avoid this woman."

The stranger looked at the witch and smiled. These teeth... That's no good.

"It's manageable." she assured. "Come with me. I'm Jolenne by the way."

Liam was very wary but well, they followed her anyway. She led them in a dark path, apparently to enter the stadium by the staff's door. I can't let Nate alone with her. There is no way I let him alone with a woman anyway. His bestfriend had tensed up quickly. She was isolating them from the crowd, and he didn't like it at all. Neither did Liam of course. (He wasn't brave but for Nate, he would be ready to fight and get his blood sucked.) (Because yeah, she was certainly a vampire.)

"Here we are." she finally announced. "The back door, as you asked."

The two boys sighed, relieved. She doesn't want our blood for now. We have a lucky escape...

"Well have a nice evening." Jolenne continued. "I'm looking fowards to our next meeting."

They politely thanked her and went inside. There is something fishy about her, I'm sure of it. And it wasn't only because Dami asked him to be prudent around girls !

Their team won the game. Liam enjoyed it. He was with his friends and they all seemed fine. Even Nate. Besides, his boyfriend was there too. Sure, it didn't show much affection because they were in public but it was nice anyway. Dami had surely opened his heart to the chestnut lad since their trip in France. Now, Liam knew what kind of person he truly was. And yeah, because he's a succubus he's still sleeping around but it doesn't matter that much. (Liam is very open-minded). They didn't attend to the party after, because Nate wasn't feeling ready for it. So they ended up at Dami's place to spend the evening. The hero had already cooked diner beforehand, and Liam thanked him a lot for that. He enjoyed himself. He's so good. The food is so good.

"I know I made too much." Dami stated. "But I also know you eat a lot."

He was right. Liam and Nick dug in pretty fast. Everything tasted so terrific. The chestnut lad went for second, thrid and fourth. He would've eat more if only there were some leftover, but it appeared they had emptied everything. Liam found himself cozily sat in the sofa, his boyfriend curled up next to him. He was pleasantly full and happy. (Honestly ? Yeah his inner desire asked for more food until he was about to burst !). (The idea of a swollen stomach made him kind of excited.). The group played games until Liam started to feel dozy. The young lad didn't want to ruin the fun but he was falling asleep. His filling diner wasn't helping.

"Do you want to sleep here with me ?" asked Dami when he noticed.

Hmhmh... The tone was hopeful.

"We won't do anything of course..." he continued while blushing. "Just... you know... it would be nice if you stayed for the night and all."

"I would love to stay." assured Liam.

He liked this part of his boyfriend. The one unconfident and shy. I think it's super cute.

The chestnut lad woke up because someone was hammering on the door. At 10 am. Who was nasty enough to do that ? Even the forces of evil wouldn't be that mean ! The lad yawned and spawled. Not only he's a hero with amazing cooking skills, but he's so nice to sleep with... Dami had a soft skin that Liam loved. Not to mention, his little plumpness made him very attractive.

"Open the fuckin' door you dam brat !" a voice shouted. "I know you're in there idiot !"

The junior swore from the kitchen. He was probably awake for awhile now and cooking breakfast. Anyway, he arrived in the bedroom kind of... stressed ?

"My father arrived baboon." he mumbled. "You need to get out of here before he sees you."

Liam frowned. Wasn't he supposed to meet him ? Then he remembered how unkempt he looked. His messy hair, his loose sweatpants and his dazed expression weren't appropriate to meet Dami's father.

"Go by the window." this one ordered. "I'll see you later okay ?"

"Sure. Love you."

Liam didn't care that they were on the first floor. Leaving by the balcony what somehow very fun !

Nicolas Sunday April 7 – Monday April 8

< Imagenius : Late mb !! Very sorry Sav pls don't yell. >

< Abeautifulwomen : it happens a lot lately dude ! Was it ur hunter thing again ? >

< TheSavior : and here we go. >

< Imagenius : well yeah it was and it sucked !!! I tried to catch a prey but u know what he said to me ?! That I am too fat !!!! looool >

< Abeautifulwomen : he ? So a man ? Gays >

< Imagenius : Shut up fke girl. I still think u're an ass becuz u don't wanna tell me what the big hunt is about. I know the reward is huge !! >

< Abeautifulwomen : Maybe one day you'll understand i do this for your own good you idiot !! This big hunt is only troubles i swear >

< Imagenius : as if i would trust ya ! You lie abut being a girl so... >

< TheSavior : Okay now you guys will shut the fuck up with this hunt thing or god be my witness i'll blow a fuse ! >

< Imagenius : sorry boss... I'm just so frustrated... >

< Abeautifulwomen : sorry too... let's play to calm you ok ? >

< TheSavior : at least you're coming back to your senses. Let's go. >

Monday lessons were easy and Nick didn't pay attention. Honestly, his mind was drifting towards Nate and things related to him. The feeling of being powerless wasn't gone yet. Liam and I talked with him but it's obvious he doesn't want us to know everything... He probably doesn't want us to think less of him. Anyway, truth must be told, Nick was getting paranoid. They knew it was a girl who did this. And now, the dark haired lad was seeing shady girls everywhere. There was this "witch" Liam had talked about. She was following them most of the time. And I'm pretty sure she's trying to seduce at least one of us... She wasn't the only one. There were girls at every corner of this damn college. Nick was certain he had noticed Leila, Colton's sister, watching them from afar. But he did not know what they wanted exactly. I'm just turning crazy that's it. His own experience with the girls here didn't gave him a reason to trust them either. Their professor announced the end of the lecture. Nick was about to stood up but Colton held him.

"Dude maybe we should wait a bit before leaving." he smiled.

Liam was slowly waking up. If he wasn't sleeping most of the time, the man would've been one of the three top students around here, no doubts.

"Why ?" asked Nick. "Is there a problem ?"

He knew his friend : he was probably trying to avoid a conflict or something like that.

"Well... your trousers hum... split on your back." revealed Colton. "I don't want anyone to embarrass you by seeing it you know ?"

It led to a blank. Nick felt his cheeks burn. Well this is awkward. But it explains why I felt relieved... It was time to go shopping again...

Colton decided to come with him after their last class. Liam was heading back at the flat to see Nate and his boyfriend. The duo ended in a specialized shop at the mall. I didn't know this kind of shop were real. A lot of things were plus-sized here.

"You're not really that huge, but since you like loose clothes this shop will be nice." explained Colton. "Here, let's try these pants."

Nick looked at him, surprised.

"If I was smart, I would say you are a regular... " he teased. "Oh wait. I'm smart ! Dude how the hell do you know your way around a plus-sized shop ?!"

His friend smiled softly.

"My step-brother is on the heavy side too and we used to go buy clothes together because my parents wouldn't come wih him." he replied. "So yeah, I'm used to it."

To prove his point, he started to show Nick many trousers and shirts which suited him just fine. More than used to it, he loves shopping... He's boyfriend material. The dark haired genius would've been interested himself if he didn't knew Colton was hetero. Well, it didn't prevent him from coveting this hot stuff. Once they had finished, the two boys decided to grab a quick meal for diner. Nick thought it would be nice before meeting with his virtual friends who were annoying lately. But they bumped into Rebecca and Barbara right after they had bought their hotdogs. The petite blonde tried to ignore them, but her tall friend didn't.

"Hey neighbour !" she smirked. "Enjoying a snack I see ? I'm not sure you need it tho."

Nick rolled his eyes. Why was she so mean ? What was her problem ?

"I have something to tell you bro." she continued. "For the old times sakes. If you ever want a girlfriend, you should really lose that gut. You're so fat, that's disgusting."

She pinched his belly.

"I mean, Liam's padding looks kind of hot but you... This is just pure blubber. What a..."

"I think we got your point Rebecca." intervened Colton. "You and Barbara despise chubby people, it's your choice and we respect that. Now we're leaving."

He took Nick by the wrist and led him outside the mall. The poor lad watched the two girls laugh. Seriously... But deep down, he couldn't help but wonder. Was she right ? Maybe it was the reason why Theo had stopped their affair ? Maybe he was just too fat after all...

To be continued

Well, well, well... Dami has feelings. Cute :D

Liam is dealing with the truth now, and do is best to follow Archie’s advice. Each person suffering from this kind of trauma will deal with it differently, Nate has his own way to do. A professionnal like D.R is what they need to find these ways.

It’s the turning point for Nick. Maybe it wasn’t clear enough before, but he’s a bit of a social inept, and the opinion of others matter to him. So yeah, with time, he started to doubt his body, and now, he wants to change back.

#the college society #cs #Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey #Liam #Nick #talks #Liam is worried but happy #Dami has feelings #Nick doesn't know what to think #Even geniuses have doubts #The big hunt continue #Chapter 4 #Part 6

[kt-cant-focus]

Tagged by the asexy @seblainelove and amazing @sebandblaine. :)

1.what is the color of your hairbrush? I have two, one is a light wood and the other black and blue.

2.name a food you never eat? Green beans

3.are you typically too warm or too cold? Too cold, I actually run a couple degrees less than normal.

4.what were you doing 45 minutes ago? At work.

5.what’s your favorite candy bar? KitKat.

6.have you ever been to a professional sports game? Nopes, not a sports person.

7.what is the last thing you said out loud? No, I was too busy slamming on the brakes. (Some genius almost caused a wreck.)

8.what is your favorite ice cream? Batman. Yes it’s real. It’s the bomb dot com.

9.what was the last thing you had to drink? Water

10.do you like your wallet? Yes, more than I thought I would. It’s a Star Wars paper wallet from a Loot crate my brother got a while ago.

11.what is the last thing you ate? A donut with chocolate frosting.

12.did you buy any new clothes last weekend? ... I don’t think so.

13.what’s the last sporting event you watched?  I watched baseball on the TV for like 5 minutes at my uncle’s house 2-ish years ago.

14.what is your favorite flavor of popcorn? White cheddar, or garlic.

15.who is the last person you sent a text message to? My roommate.

16.ever been camping? Not recently. I used to go all the time as a kid, but my parents got too old for tents.

17.do you take vitamins? Yes, right now only an iron supplement, because I didn’t have a job until recently. I usually also take a multivitamin and a skin vitamin.

18.do you regularly attend a place of worship? Not anymore. I grew up in church, but after moving to a new town I stopped going. Just too early in the afternoon and finding an LGBT friendly one seemed like a struggle. I did find a website that shows which churches in your area are LGBTQIA friendly. So once the pandemic clears up, I’ll check them out.

19.do you have a tan? Weirdly, yes. Going outside for less than two hours a week is enough to get 3-4 shades darker. Usually I’m a vampire.

20. do you prefer Chinese or pizza? oof, asking the hard questions. Pizza, I have it more.

21.do you drink your soda through a straw? Typically, only when I’m wearing lipstick or something.

22.what color socks do you usually wear? Winter socks. I get cold and wear ankle braces, so I need taller ones.

23.do you ever drive above the speed limit? Usually about 5 over.

24.what terrifies you? HAHAHAHA lots of things. Letting my mental health stuff rule my life more than it already does, I suppose is the biggest one.

25.look to your left, what do you see? My manga bookshelf and my makeup.

26.what chore do you hate most? Cleaning the tub, but I find all of them super tedious.

27.what do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? In person: Wonder if they are here to work or for vacation? On a show: Is my mom watching McCloud’s Daughters again?

28.what’s your favorite soda? Root beer, but I’m a sucker for the blue Jones soda.

29. do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? Neither, I’m vegetarian and most places don’t give me a big selection.

30.what’s your favorite number? *Shrug* 23 I guess? It’s my age so meh *shrugs again*

31. who’s the last person you talked to? My amazing roommate.

32. favorite food? Stir-fry or my mac n cheese

33.last song you listened to? Not Today by Unlike Pluto

34. last book you read? The Bible

35. favorite day of the week? Thursday?? I don’t really care.

36.can you say the alphabet backwards? Kinda, not really without thinking about it.

37.how do you like your coffee? Nah fam, too bitter and too much caffeine 5 me.

38.favorite pair of shoes? My converse. They look awesome and I don’t have to wear my ankle braces with them.

39. time you normally get up? 8-9am

40.what do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? Sunsets, I see a sunrise only when I’ve stayed up that late.

41.how many blankets on your bed? 3, comforter, and 2 blankies.

42.describe your kitchen plates? White.

43.describe your kitchen at the moment. Small, with barely any counter space.

44.do you have a favorite alcoholic drink? Ew, none. Of all the ones I’ve tried, they all taste funny, like vinegar. Even when mixed with something.

45.do you play cards? Not regularly. It’s funny though, I have weirdly good luck with card game. Even though in most games I have the worst luck ever.

46.what color is your car? Green.

47.can you change a tire? In a shop, not on the side of the road. I learned how to change a tire at my uncles shop.

48.your favorite state or province? *Shrug* WA?

49.favorite job you’ve had? lol cashier at Safeway. I got away with so much shit.

Tagging (if they didn’t do it already): @viria  @seblainedaily @rhandytaylah @staff

#my friends what to know everything about me #stalkers #lol #jk #love you guys #XD #me #funny