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teawithkpop · 5 years

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[M] - PhysCom - Pt 4

pt 1 - pt 2 - pt 3 - bc 1 - pt 4 - pt 5 - pt 6

Pairing: BTS - OT7 x Reader

Rating: Mature [18+]

Length: 8.5k words

Genre: PhysCom AU - smut with dashes of angst, and a shitload of romance and complicated feelings,, uhuhu (porn with plot??)

Warnings: swearing, ehhh lots of angst and fighting oh nooo, and mentions of sexual acts

the plot thickens and there’s no actual smut in this part i’m sorrryyyyyy but more smut is coming!! i pinky pwomise uwu

-------

"Morning, jagiya. Do you have a minute?"

You're practically vibrating with the effort of acting normal as you process Taehyung's question. What can you even say to that? Oh, sorry. Actually, can you guys come back later? I'm kind of in the middle of discovering a secret fucking society of PhysComs who are dating their clients, and I'm trying to see if there's a way I can get in on that sweet, sweet deal. Fuck no. That's not going to work. Anything other than agreeing will sound too suspicious, and you can’t let them know what you’ve discovered. At least, not yet.

"Of course." You paste on a smile as you reply, your mind still reeling as you pull the door open all the way. You’re still wearing only your robe, but it’s silly of you to shield your body when it’s theirs to ogle during work hours anyway.

“What can I do for you, masters?” You ask sweetly, slipping on your persona like a second skin to keep your thoughts safely hidden from view. Your clients should always be your first priority. Not rule breaking, and certainly not any unlikely fantasies of romance.

Something seems off about their body language. They look uncomfortable. You’re suddenly reminded of the weird tension in the air when you last saw them, and just how fragile your position is after everything that happened last night. You need to rid their minds of what they saw at dinner. They need to view you as their eager little toy again, not someone who broke or someone to be pitied.

You instantly thicken the illusion of obscenity, eager to convince them, and maybe yourself, that things are just the same as they’ve always been.

“So… what would you like from me? A blow job? Hand job?” You stretch your arm up and lean sensually against the door, your eyes half-lidded. “Do you both want to fuck my little holes and stretch me open?” You giggle cutely and start to untie the silky belt of your robe, forcing all thoughts of your ComGear out of your head so you can focus on your job, which is pleasuring your clients.

Jimin steps forward before you can pull the robe open, and stops your hand. He carefully ties your garment back together, though he avoids your eyes, his expression grim. “No… actually, we want to talk with you.”

Damn. You thought for sure that little ploy would at least fluster them a little, and maybe get them in the mood for something, but they both remain strangely sober.

“It’s about last night,” Taehyung supplies quietly, looking down to the floor.

Well, shit. What is there to talk about? You used your safe word and ruined everyone’s fun. Are they holding it against you or something? That's not really fair when the two of them are partially to blame for distracting you by playing mind games and messing with each other.

Then it dawns on you. Namjoon probably sent them up to apologize for their fighting. That must be why they’re acting so stiff. After all, he did say that the three of you should work things out together.

You feel a bit relieved and give them a fleeting smile of reassurance. “Masters, it’s okay. Let’s just move on from what happened last night, hm?” You want to take their hands, but you resist the urge. You really shouldn’t initiate contact unless it’s related to their pleasure. You settle for lacing your hands coyly behind your back, making your chest stand out rather provocatively. “I’ve forgotten all about it, really.”

They both still look dreadful. Worried. You finally notice that there's a hint of pity in their eyes and it makes your skin crawl with foreboding. You get the terrible sense that this is about something bigger than safe words, squabbles, and kisses.

“No, we all want to talk to you,” Taehyung explains with a slight clearing of his throat. “In the kitchen. Namjoon-hyung sent us to… come and get you.”

You can feel your heart start to race as your adrenaline spikes from a sudden shot of fear. What could they possibly want? What's changed between last night and today? Sure, logically, they could be calling a meeting for a variety of reasons, but only one scenario is circling through your mind, over and over… and it ends with you packing your bags.

“Do you want to, like... go now, or...?” Jimin mumbles, clearly uncomfortable about the situation.

You blink, feeling dizzy. Your playful aura has disintegrated in an instant and made way for something much more frigid and fearful. “Yeah… um, let me just get dressed first,” you murmur distractedly. “I’ll be down in a minute, masters.”

They nod and thankfully take the hint that you need a moment to collect yourself. The two of them head back downstairs and you shut the door behind them, your whole body numb. You hurry to your closet, trying to retain some semblance of routine despite the storm you feel approaching.

In the daily rotation of things, Friday - last night - was Seokjin’s day for him to do as he pleases with you, and that includes deciding what you wear. The apron you’d had on yesterday was one he had picked out for you beforehand. Your closet is sectioned off into clothes and costumes chosen by each boy for you to don beneath (or in some cases on top of) your utility belt on their chosen days. Some days they request a specific outfit, but most of the time it’s up to you to select from their options. Your favorite clothes to wear are probably either the oversized hoodies with cute panties and no bottoms that Jungkook chose for you, or the crop top and leggings variations that Hoseok loves to see you wear.

But Saturday is for Yoongi, and today’s outfits are what could be considered party clothes, full of strappy leather harnesses, deep jewel-toned mini dresses, and lots of high heels. Not exactly comfort clothing. You love it when they choose what you wear and dress you up like a little doll, it’s hot and everything, but sometimes you just want to wear sweatpants. Or a t-shirt and jeans.

Fuck. You grab a pair of black booty shorts and a busty sequined halter top, the closest thing to daywear out of Yoongi’s choices, and you also elect to go barefoot. If this meeting is as bad as you fear it’ll be, then you don’t know if you’ll be able to stand upright in six inch heels for very long. Sorry, Yoongi.

You blow a lock of hair out of your eyes after squeezing yourself into the tight attire. Credit to Min Yoongi where it’s due, the top does make your tits look amazing, but honestly that should be the least of your concerns right now. You almost laugh at such a trivial thought.

Once you reach your bed, you hastily grab your ComGear, hoping you have at least a few minutes to figure out something before you’re pulled away again. There’s a backlog of messages, but thankfully not too many, as you log back into the chat room.

[ PCsv02_svt ]: oh where did she go [ PCsv01_svt ]: probably got called away [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: probably havin.. sexy times B) [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: wink wink [ PCsv01_svt ]: … [ PCsv03_mtx ]: guys you shouldn’t encourage her about dating :/ [ PCsv03_mtx ]: bad things can happen too [ PCsv06_ast ]: yea sanha is always nice to me, but I know some clients can be... not so nice [ PCsv09_$px ]: yeah, thanks [ PCsv06_ast ]: oh... sorry :( [ PCsv02_svt ]: aww aashi didn’t mean it like that G [ PCsv02_svt ]: we’re all here for you, u know that right? [ PCsv09_$px ]: mm. thanks guys [ PCsv01_svt ]: speaking of which, how are things with you? [ PCsv09_$px ]: uh.. same as always. [ PCsv01_svt ]: has anything happened since last time? [ PCsv09_$px ]: no, but they’ve been out of the house a lot [ PCsv09_$px ]: they have a lot of schedules right now [ PCsv01_svt ]: I see… [ PCsv02_svt ]: oh she’s back!

You stare at the log in dismay. Well, crap. “Bad things” can happen...? What kind of bad things? Is dating clients a thing or not? You have too many questions and not enough answers, and you don’t have time to investigate any of it. The boys are waiting for you downstairs.

[ PCsv01_bts ]: so… my clients just called a meeting with me. I can’t really talk right now. [ PCsv01_svt ]: a meeting? [ PCsv02_svt ]: that’s okay hon! we’ll still be here when u get back ^^ [ PCsv01_bts ]: this is all…fuck sorry, it’s a lot to deal with right now

You rake a hand through your hair, your body and mind are just completely spent from everything that’s happened recently.

[ PCsv01_svt ]: it’s alright, we’re not going anywhere [ PCsv03_twc ]: take your time to understand everything ♡ [ PCsv03_twc ]: it took me a while haha [ PCsv06_ast ]: we’ve got your back! 150% hehe >u< [ PCsv02_svt ]: yeah! don’t sweat it hon~ be kind to yourself, especially when you need to figure things out ^^

All of their assurance pouring in nearly brings a smile to your face. You don’t know most of these people, and you can’t be sure that they aren’t all just really smart bots or spies sent by your network, but… they do seem like a supportive bunch.

[ PCsv01_bts ]: thanks [ PCsv01_bts ]: but what exactly did micha mean by “bad things can happen”? [ PCsv01_bts ]: is dating even safe? [ PCsv03_mtx ]: oh haha… [ PCsv04_blp ]: safe? Oh honey... [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: lolol [ PCsv03_mtx ]: well I just meant that some PhysComs have been… taken advantage of [ PCsv03_mtx ]: so you can’t just jump into it ^^; [ PCsv01_svt ]: i wouldn’t call anything in this line of work “safe” per se [ PCsv01_svt ]: it’s hard to advise anything when we don’t know what your clients are really like [ PCsv01_svt ]: but if you do manage to enter a relationship it can either make or break your employment [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: hell yeahhhhh B)) [ PCsv01_svt ]: for some people it’s a last ditch effort, offering intimacy to idols who are touch starved to begin with… oftentimes breaking those boundaries will changes the client’s perspective, and soon they see you as essential, regardless of any minor misconducts [ PCsv01_svt ]: while for others, the attachment forms naturally and appears to be a genuine connection, such as with sascha and joshua [ PCsv01_svt ]: but of course there’s no way to tell for sure if the client’s feelings are genuine or if they have ulterior motives, so it’s definitely a risk [ PCsv01_svt ]: if things were to turn sour in the relationship, it could lead to termination or worse… you know, hell hath no fury like a lover scorned and all that [ PCsv01_svt ]: people can be duplicitous [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: durr durrr antione smart smart [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: i’m taking notes on ur lecture sir uwu [ PCsv01_svt ]: blake [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: ^-^? [ PCsv01_svt ]: shut the hell your mouth [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: >:D

You sigh. Reading all these names and trying to keep everyone’s identities straight is making your head spin in your already addled state.

[ PCsv01_bts ]: is there a way to change the contact names in this chat? [ PCsv01_svt ]: nope [ PCsv02_svt ]: sorry boo, it’s for protection ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

You groan in frustration. Nothing is making sense, you’ve found no answers, and you still aren’t sure you can even trust this chat room. On a whim, you tap on Sascha’s username, and a contact page pulls up for her within the chat app. It doesn’t give any information besides her username and a blank profile photo, but there is a call button.

Shit, what do you have to lose? If this is real and not some elaborate hoax, then Sascha should pick up… right? You could grill her, ask her questions only she would know to prove it’s really her.

A sudden buzz from your ComGear nearly scares you shitless, and you check to see that it’s just a message from Namjoon.

Sweetheart? Could you come down to the kitchen?

You take a deep breath to steel your nerves. Fuck. You can’t put this meeting off any longer. You slip your ComGear into your belt and head downstairs towards what you’re sure will be your inevitable doom.

-------

On your way down the long staircase, you take deep cleansing breaths to combat the growing knot in your stomach. You’re hoping half-heartedly, albeit rather foolishly, that maybe the boys just need your help with something harmless, like making breakfast. They do love your omelettes.

You slow down as you approach the kitchen door, and you can hear many muffled voices arguing on the other side. It sounds like they’re trying to stay quiet, but failing. You stop to listen, your curiosity getting the better of you.

“Just because you got to-” “-not fair-” “I don’t like this-” “-so why should she be punished for-” “I swear it wasn’t-”

Punished? You don’t like the sound of that at all, not one bit. Just as panic starts to swarm your mind, Namjoon’s voice rises above the clamor. You lean against the door to hear his calm cadence, much more gentle than the previous raucous of the others.

"Look! Guys, I know it'll be hard. Okay? I know we've all grown very attached to her, but I think... I think this will be for the best. For all of us."

Fuck his calm cadence.

They must be talking about you, they have to be. You’re the only “her” in this house. You feel like you’re drowning in regret and fear, spiraling as your worries returning tenfold, despite your best effort to keep them at bay.

You’re going to walk through that door and they’re going to fire you, you can feel it. Namjoon’s going to look you in the eyes, and where such tenderness had been last night, now there will only be a steely gaze. It’s just business. You slump against the polished wood and bite back a dry sob, burying your face in your hands. You don’t think you can do this.

“God, you make it sound like she’s dying.” There’s Yoongi’s voice, lilted and matter of fact. “She’s not going anywhere.”

You lift your head. Not going anywhere? As in, not being fired?

Oh, bless Min Yoongi and his slutty sequin tops. But then… if you’re not going anywhere, ergo not getting fired, then what the hell are they talking about?

“Yeah, but what if this thing doesn’t work? What if she doesn’t... want this from us?” Jungkook’s timid question draws silence from the room.

“Then things will go back to normal, right? We just… forget it ever happened.” Jin. He sounds bitter and forlorn, not at all like his usual self.

“How can things be normal after what happened last night?” Hoseok sounds even worse than Jin, his voice choked with emotion. “I don’t think I can even have her as a PhysCom anymore! Something has to change.”

This declaration is met with another bout of overlapping arguments, only to be silenced once again by Namjoon.

“No, Hobi-hyung is right.” Namjoon says, his voice decisive and final. “This is a fork in the road for all of us. At the end of the week, we’ll take another vote. If things don’t improve with her, then… we’ll do what has to be done. There are always other PhysComs who can fill the position.”

What... the fuck…?

Ice crawls up your back, as if someone just dumped you into a freezing pool of water. Numbness seeps through your limbs, into your heart.

Are you really that replaceable in their eyes?

You’ve invested all your time into building bonds with these boys specifically so this wouldn’t happen. How can they be so heartless? It hurts. There’s a wrenching pain in your chest at hearing them talk about you so… so pragmatically.

It hurts because it’s exactly the way that you would handle the situation. With pragmatism.

But you know what? Fuck this. Fuck them. They took a fucking vote on the fate of your livelihood? You owe them nothing.

You’re overwhelmed, and angry, and confused, and you just can’t take it anymore. You want this guessing game to end. If they’re going to fire you, or punish you, or whatever, then you should just go in there and get it over with already. It has to hurt less than hearing them talk about you so callously.

You wait for a break in the conversation, and then ease open the kitchen door, stepping inside and doing your best to keep your expression neutral.

“Oh, there she is! Just the woman we wanted to see.” Namjoon looks up at you with a practiced smile, even though he’d just been rubbing his forehead the way he does when he’s stressed.

“Not for long,” Yoongi mutters, clutching his coffee mug a little too tightly as he takes a sip.

Your gaze flickers to him as quiet, seething anger settles in the pit of your stomach, a burning ache that doesn’t go away. He has the balls to joke about this, when your career is on the line? You’d have thought Mr. Underground Rapper would understand how hard you’ve fought to get here. Does he really feel nothing, sipping his coffee while you face the guillotine?

Namjoon shoots Yoongi a weary look, then comes over to greet you. “Good morning, sweetheart. How are you feeling? Better?” He cups your cheek, his eyes full of gentle concern.

You nearly flinch away from his touch. How dare he act so kind to you when they were just conspiring about whether you’ll keep your job?

You take a step back, out of range to be touched by any of them.

“What’s going on?” You ask them firmly, deciding not to hide your misgivings. Their eyes all seem to wander elsewhere in the room, Jungkook is staring at the counter in front of him like it’s suddenly become very interesting. Taehyung is looking up at the ceiling as if counting the tiles. Seokjin’s gaze is trained straight ahead into nothing, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Cowards, all of them.

Namjoon takes the initiative and clears his throat. It’s hard to take him seriously when he’s wearing Ryan the Bear pajamas, but you give him your rapt attention. “So, we’ve been discussing things, and after what happened last night… well, it really cemented this for us. It made the decision that much easier.”

Did it? Did it really make it easier for them to fire you after seeing you break down and cry from using your safe word? You half debate throwing a punch at that handsome jaw of his. Might as well go out swinging.

He seems uncomfortable from the severity of your glare. Good, let him be uncomfortable. God knows you’ve put yourself in some uncomfortable positions for them.

“You’ve worked very hard for us since you were hired, and since today marks your official six month anniversary, we think it’s only fitting to end these six months on a good note.”

Oh, how poetic. Come on, just get on with it. Flowery words, especially insincere ones, won’t help you find another job. They won’t help keep you off the street while you struggle to make a living for yourself.

You stare up at him determinedly, your lips pursed as you steel yourself for the blow. You will not cry.

“We want to extend your time off.”

Wait, what?

“Starting tomorrow. It would have been your second day off for this month, but we’d like to extend that to a week off instead.”

They’re not firing you? They’re… rewarding you with vacation time? Doesn’t make sense. Your mind is reeling, trying to figure out the catch.

“You can wear whatever you want, do whatever you’d like.” Namjoon rubs the back of his neck, seemingly thrown off by your wide eyed lack of response. “You’re not obligated to have sex with us…”

Oh. There it is. A sex ban.

Sure, they’ll give you a nice little vacation, free of worries and obligations. What, so they can all play with Secondaries, like Jin did?

Fuck, that’s what this is about, isn’t it? Jin probably told them how good it felt to fuck another cunt and now this is their way of telling you that they want to ‘see other people’, isn’t it?

This is worse than firing you outright. They’re killing you slowly, stabbing you in the gut to watch you bleed out, like a wounded animal in the desert.

Your vision is red, rage stemming from fear and insecurity building up inside of you faster than you can comprehend.

“So you’re suspending me?” Your voice is surprisingly calm, even to your own ears.

“I… I guess you could put it like that.” Namjoon says hesitantly.

“We just want to give you a break, jagiya,” Taehyung interjects, and he does look genuinely torn up about the change. But feelings are of no use, not now that things have come to this. The only protection you have left is your own pragmatism to rival theirs.

You cross your arms in front of your chest, feeling much too exposed in your skimpy outfit. Damn Min Yoongi and his slutty sequin tops. You level your gaze at each of them in turn. “Don’t I get a say in this? I’m an independent contractor.”

Namjoon seems befuddled by your scorching glare, but he nods after a moment, seeming to come to his senses. He’s the one person here that’s best equipped to acquiesce to your sudden formalities. “Yes, of course. Uh… do you want to step into my office? We can work something out. Draw up a formal agreement, if you’d like.”

You see a flash in your mind of the last time you were in Namjoon’s office, not even a week ago, where you had him bent over his desk, cumming all over your fingers and dripping onto the ornate carpet.

You shake your head. They don’t want you to play with them for a week? Fine. You won’t give Namjoon the satisfaction of a home court advantage. “I’ll call my handler. We can discuss this in the lounge in an hour.” You don’t have a lawyer, but Yeji is the next best thing.

Namjoon seems a little surprised at your sudden switch to a cold and business-like demeanor, but he nods in agreement.

“Wonderful,” you look between the other boys, though most of them avoid your gaze. “I hope you all enjoy your breakfast.” You can’t resist hissing the words, and you hasten out of the room before your stone cold facade can crack.

You close the door behind you and lean heavily against it, trying to find your balance again after being thrown so off-kilter. What the fuck just happened?

“Well… that could have gone better.” You hear Yoongi sigh, and the others all break out into loud bickering again from behind the door. Honestly, they’re like children sometimes.

You scoff miserably at their immaturity and inability to see how seriously they just toyed with your life, and you wipe your eyes before the tears can fall, hurrying back to your room.

-------

That could’ve fucking gone better indeed.

You press your face into your hands, trying to stifle the fury and despair bubbling up inside your chest, threatening to suffocate you. Your hard work and years of dedication, all of your training, everything you’ve worked towards, becoming valuable and necessary so you’d never be cast away again, it’s all for nothing. You’ve still ended up in this position.

What the hell are you supposed to do now? Wait around for a week as they slowly lose interest in you? The very thought is agonizing. It tugs at all your buried fears and insecurities, watching them as they each slowly forget about you. Watching yourself become useless.

No. Stop it, you don’t have time to feel sorry for yourself when there’s work to be done. Time is ticking.

When you get overwhelmed in life, you’re supposed to ask for help. But you have very limited choices for who you can ask. You’re isolated and subjective in this case, so what you need right now are some outside opinions. Objective viewpoints and thoughts about the situation that aren’t stuck in the mire of emotional complications, and tainted by your own hellish visions of the worst possible outcome.

Yeji, your handler, would be your first person to consult. She’s probably the most professional woman you know, after yourself, and most importantly, she always has a plan for any situation. You pull out your ComGear and see that it’s still on Sachsa’s mysterious contact page. She could be a second opinion. That is, if it’s really Sachsa and not some network spy.

You shake away the thought. One thing at a time.

You send a brief message to Yeji, letting her know to come and see you as soon as possible. You tack on that it’s kind of an emergency, and could she pick up some ice cream for you on the way, double fudge ripple.

She replies that she’ll be over in fifteen minutes, which gives you just enough time to change clothes and rehearse how to explain what happened.

You shed Min Yoongi's sequined strip of fabric without an ounce of remorse and stare at your closet in dismay. None of their outfits are comfortable, let alone respectable for a meeting. Frankly, your pajamas would offer more coverage.

You feel close to tears at the simple matter of choosing an outfit. This is ridiculous.

No. They may have control over what you do, but you can still rebel, at least in this small aspect of your life. You grab one of Jungkook's hoodies and a pair of leggings from Hobi, combining the outfits into what could be considered loungewear.

Once changed, you feel a bit more like yourself, and wait anxiously for your handler to arrive.

-------

Choi Yeji is an intimidating woman. She possesses the subtlety and sting of a viper, and isn’t afraid to say what she means. She’s never shown you any great lengths of emotion, even under stressful circumstances. So it doesn’t surprise you to see her calm and collected as she walks into your room.

“What happened?” She asks while you shut the door behind her, and she sets down the shopping bag of ice cream.

Her composure helps ease your frazzled brain, and you quickly explain the events of the past twenty four hours. Well, the events she needs to know, anyway. You were stressed at dinner, used your safeword, and now they seemingly think you’re broken and need to rest, but you suspect it’s an excuse for them to distance themselves from you.

“You think you’ve fallen out of their favor?” Yeji inquires, resting the tip of her spoon in her mouth. She claims desserts are her only vice, and had joined you in the ice cream, but still kept a professional distance and had eaten hers seated on your desk chair while you remained flopped on your bed. “Why? They’ve never sent in a single complaint about your service.”

You sigh in frustration. You know, or you at least suspect, that it has something to do with the… feelings that have come to your attention recently.

But the thought of sharing your romantic dalliances with Yeji is just plain awkward. Your relationship with her has always been business focused, monitoring your diet and exercise, your needs and leisure requests. You've never called her over to talk about your love life, or anything too personal for that matter. It’s not really in her job description.

She’s your handler, not your therapist.

But you know that you can't get around telling her the reason why things have been so tense in the house, it's inevitably going to come up. If she's representing you and backing you up during this meeting with Namjoon, it's in your best interest for her to know all the facts.

That still doesn't make it any easier to talk about. “I... think I might know why.” You admit, laying on your back, covering your face with your arm as you prepare to talk about your affairs.

Yeji levels you with a knowing look. “Did the chat room help you figure it out?”

You sit bolt upright. How the hell did she find out?

Your brain struggles to provide an explanation in a vain attempt to cover your tracks, but Yeji eases you down from your silent panic with a wave of her hand.

“It’s alright,” she chuckles, a kind smile gracing her lips. “I was the only person alerted that you’d disconnected from the network and linked to a new one. I know all about the hidden network."

"You do?" You manage to utter, too astounded to say much else.

"Of course." Yeji inclines her head. "I used to work closely with Madame Guillaume, you know."

The tension dissipates from your body to make room for the curiosity that now overwhelms you. Guillaume? That was her last name? You only ever knew her as Madame.

Yeji seems amused at your dumbfounded expression. "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

You don’t know what to say. Honestly at this point, so many shocking things have happened to you that a part of you isn’t even surprised anymore to hear that Yeji knows about the PhysCom dark web. Sure. Why not?

“So is it… real?” You ask, scooting closer towards the edge of the bed.

Yeji sets down her spoon along with the empty pint of ice cream. "Yes. It's most certainly real." She folds her hands in her lap, unaware of the chocolate that's gotten around her upper lip. "But that isn't to say it's not dangerous."

You can't help the snort of a laugh that comes out of you as she talks so seriously with chocolate on her face. She looks at you askance and you wordlessly hand a tissue to her, pointing at your own mouth. "You have something…"

She blinks rapidly. "Ah, apologies." She looks over to your vanity mirror and wipes off the smudges. There's a slight lilt to her voice when she speaks, a result of the fact that Yeji always uses English around you, despite Korean being her native tongue.

You’d mentioned once that it sometimes felt weird to see others’ lips move differently to what you were hearing them say, thanks to your auto-translation chip, and she’d apparently made a note of that. Yeji has used English with you ever since, despite your assurances. It amazes you that she always goes above and beyond to make sure you're comfortable, even when it comes to speaking

Your handler clears her throat to continue. "Anyway, as I was saying. The network does have security, but no measures are foolproof. Anything you send to them has a risk of being seen by other people."

You twist your lips to the side. “Like who?”

“Well, for one, their clients could easily catch a glimpse of the chat,” she notes. “Or the information could be leaked in a security breach. You know all the leading PhysCom networks have heard whispers about this dark web you’ve discovered, and many of them would be all too eager to dismantle it.”

You automatically shake your head. You don’t know why, but the idea of the people in that chat room getting discovered, or being punished for their little spark of camaraderie… it feels wrong. Totalitarian. “But they’re not harming anyone. It’s just a group chat.”

Yeji sighs. Her lips twitch as she considers her next words. “It may seem harmless, or indeed it may even be harmless,” she states calmly. “But the higher up that one is placed, the more scared one becomes of falling. People in the higher ranks of the industry may view the chat room as a threat. Like a… PhysCom mutiny.”

“What? But that’s ridiculous!” You huff out a laugh. “They can’t possibly think we could organize a union against them. We’re illegal workers. We have no rights in society, we can’t even physically see each other.”

Sure, the risk of rebellion would be understandable in companies that employ people in respectable positions. But sex workers? That’s like being worried that drug dealers will rebel against the crooked pharmacies that supply them.

PhysComs are nothing without networks to market them and provide for their basic needs. Your career is forever tied to your network, so each network only wants the best of the best. Your reputation reflects on them as a business. So, if you get fired by your clients… your network might let you go, too.

You sigh, trying to push away such troubling thoughts. “Besides, it’s not like the people in that chat room are the only people who can fill their positions.” Your face falls a little as you continue. “We’re replaceable.”

Yeji picks up on your change in tone. “You were telling me why you think things have changed?” She waits patiently for you to explain.

You hug your knees to your chest, your gaze falling to your comforter. “I think… some of my clients might have developed feelings for me.”

You wait in silence for a beat, not daring to look up.

“Is that all?” Yeji asks, as if you’d just informed her that the toilet paper had run out.

You scoff in bewilderment. “What do you mean ‘is that all’?” You demand, a little underwhelmed by her reaction. Does she just know everything? “That’s a huge deal! Feelings are not a part of my job.”

Yeji tilts her head to the side, her eyes cast upward as though looking for the right words. “Perhaps. You might consider it an… occupational hazard,” she says with a kind look towards you. “You may not be selling your heart to those boys, but you are selling your body, which protects your heart fiercely. After enough time, letting them touch your body… it’s inevitable they might slip through and touch your heart.” She shrugs, taking a sip of the coffee to-go cup she always seems to have on hand.

You feel exasperated, like you’ve been building up all this hot air only to have it slowly leak out of your proverbial balloon. “You don’t have to get all… philosophical about it,” you grouse half-heartedly. Yeji merely chortles.

“The insecure always cast stones at those who speak the truth,” she hums into another sip of coffee, looking over the references she’d brought with her on her phone. “Now that I’m aware of this huge deal of yours, you may want to fill in any details you, ah… forgot to mention?” She gives you a look, and you groan inwardly.

But you comply, spilling all the information of your romantic dalliances since the moment Taehyung kissed you. Yeji doesn’t hold any judgement in her face, she merely nods, taking a few notes for herself, and asking an occasional clarifying question. You also feel compelled to add in what you overheard the boys talking about before you came into the kitchen.

“They said something about a vote�� and that they would hold another one at the end of the week ‘if things don’t improve’ with me. Can you believe that?” You inhale, trying to quell the anger in you before it can bubble up again.

Yeji clicks her tongue, a cold clarity in her eyes as she adjusts her glasses. “So you believe Kim Namjoon is the instigator in all of this? He would try to dismiss you, even after you confided in him?”

“He’s their leader,” you say quietly, unable to conceal the hurt in your voice. “His loyalties are to them.”

Yeji doesn’t look at you with pity, but with sympathy. You’re grateful for the distinction. Pity makes you feel worthless, but sympathy makes you feel… heard. Understood. Not something you’re used to experiencing, but it’s still a nice feeling to have.

“Well,” Yeji checks her phone, standing up to leave. “It looks like we’re just about out of time. We’d best be getting downstairs.”

You get up as well, tugging your clothes back into place. “So, you’ll help me change his mind?”

“I must remain impartial, in order to reach a satisfactory conclusion for both parties.” She gives you a look while organizing her papers and clipping them into her briefcase. “But I’ll do what I can to negotiate you out of this so-called vacation,” she says, her voice fueled with that same resolve that she’d shown you whenever she’d been fixated on getting you something that you requested.

“Yeji.” You hesitate, then walk over and take a hold of her arm. “Just please… don’t go easy on him.” You ask, giving her a meaningful look.

She pauses and looks at you for a moment, then finally lets out a sigh with a brief flutter of her eyes. Her job isn’t easy, but then again, neither is yours.

“Alright,” Her voice is reluctant, but resolute. She gives you a brief smile with a touch of fondness, and opens the door for you. “I’ll give him hell.”

-------

You wind and unwind the drawstring of your hoodie around your finger as Yeji organizes her paperwork. The tension in the air is palpable. Namjoon sits across from you both, now dressed for the day in business casual, a white t-shirt under a blazer and slacks. He must have an interview or a photoshoot today.

Your mind wanders briefly to what he usually does when he has a schedule, asks you for a quick blowjob before he leaves. You think of that warm smile he gives you after you swallow his cum, and the tenderness of his lips as he kisses your cheek before he heads out the door.

Lewd domesticity is how he phrased the kink during his interview.

“So, Mr. Kim Namjoon,” Yeji begins, snapping you out of your memories, her voice crisp in the otherwise silent room. She’s speaking in Korean again, to more clearly communicate with him. “You and my client are in a disagreement with regards to her services, is that correct?”

Namjoon frowns. “Not exactly. We just had a… simple misunderstanding this morning.”

Yeji gives him a thin smile. “Well, she called me here, which must mean that she feels the need for professional support concerning this issue,” she continues swiftly. “There are no laws governing Physical Companions, Mr. Kim, because they are not technically legal. A black market business. Therefore, I am the closest thing my client has to legal representation, and I wouldn’t call my lawyer about a ‘simple misunderstanding’, would you?”

Namjoon’s eyes flash with something almost like regret as he glances to you. His mouth opens and closes for a moment, then he briefly shakes his head, his gaze returning to Yeji. “No, I-I wouldn’t.”

“Right.” Yeji raps her collection of papers on the oak tabletop to align them, barely giving Namjoon a glance as she begins flicking through the stack. “Now, then. My client has told me that you wish to put her on suspension, is that correct?”

Namjoon winces. “I wouldn’t say that, uh, Ms. Choi,” he says, wringing his hands together. He looks nervous, his eyes flickering from you to Yeji, and back again. “Does our PhysCom need to be present for this meeting?” He asks her, flashing a smile that would be charming and amiable, if he didn’t look so tense.

Yeji meets his gaze unflinchingly. “Yes.”

“I… um, alright.” He purses his lips with a nod.

It’s weird. In all the time you’ve known him, Namjoon has always been unfazed and collected when it comes to business. You’ve never seen him look so flustered before. Since he’s putting you in this position, it’s satisfying, in a twisted sort of way, to see him uncomfortable.

He clears his throat. “In any case, myself and my members just wanted to give her a break. Simply extend her vacation time.”

Yeji looks to you, her expression almost bored. “Do you want a vacation?”

You shake your head. “No, I don’t.” You throw a glare at Namjoon before returning your gaze to the houseplant on your left, inspecting each leaf as you try to stay calm. You know if you look for too long at him, you’ll start getting worked up again. Your anger and resentment is still there, bubbling just below the surface. You hope he knows how much he hurt you.

Yeji turns back to him, inclining her head, her tone that of explaining something simple to someone who should know better. “It is against her will, so it’s considered a suspension, Mr. Kim.” She slips her glasses on, reading over the fine print on the paperwork. “My client is given two days off each month, is that correct?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Namjoon says. “One day off, every two weeks.”

Yeji raises an eyebrow. “Yet, you wish to suspend her for an entire week. That’s over three months worth of her regular vacation time. I must say, this appears to be much more than a simple extension, as you put it. I wonder why that would be?” She flips a page, skimming the words casually. “It says here that she’s received nothing but glowing reviews from all of you since she was hired six months ago.”

Namjoon shifts uncomfortably. You can tell that he’s trying to keep up his shields, but Yeji is a formidable foe with which to spar, able to find the smallest opening in an opponent’s armor and pierce through with the speed of a rapier.

“No particular reason.” Namjoon seems to settle on the answer after calculating his words.

“No reason?” Yeji’s eyes widen in mock surprise. “Mr. Kim,” She sets her papers on the table, looking at him expectantly. “I’m afraid I can’t allow this discussion to go any further unless you have a good reason for putting my client, your Primary PhysCom I might add, on suspension for an entire week.” She shakes her head with a mild shrug of indifference.

Namjoon tugs at the cuffs of his jacket. "Well, I think we can-"

Yeji interrupts him, her words slow and purposeful. “I think… it would reflect very poorly on you as a leader to make such drastic decisions,” Here, she gives a very brief smile that could be mistaken for politeness, if there was any warmth left in her eyes. “... for ‘no particular reason’. Don’t you agree, Mr. Kim?”

Damn. Hit him where it hurts, Yeji.

Namjoon’s mouth grows slack, his expression dumbfounded. You bite back a smile, eternally grateful for being assigned such a kickass handler. You make a note to request a bonus for her next paycheck.

But now Namjoon’s face has grown dark. His fingers are tented together, and he seems lost in a silent debate within his own mind. “I didn’t want to do this…” he mutters so quietly, you almost can’t make out the words.

He inhales sharply and sits up a little straighter, his composure regained. “Ms. Choi,” he begins. “I must admit, we do have some concerns about her performance.”

Your heart drops like a stone.

“Oh?” Yeji doesn’t look up at him, but starts scribbling on one of her papers. “What might those be?”

“We believe that she’s overworked, since, as you pointed out, she is our only Primary,” he explains in almost a monotone. “Her behavior has been emotional and unpredictable lately.”

At this, your gaze snaps to him, shocked. Why the fuck would he say that?

He looks down to the floor, as though ashamed, as he continues. “She’s kissed two of our members since yesterday, which is not on her list of services. She broke down crying last night during dinner. When we went to use another PhysCom, she had a meltdown. Started screaming at us.”

Your body feels numb and on fire all at once.

"We're concerned about her professionalism."

That motherfucker.

You leap to your feet, your body moving before you can think. Yeji pulls you back from physically assaulting him, but you strain against her grip like a wild animal. “You bastard!” You spit out the insult, hair falling in your face and venom in your voice, still huffing out ragged breaths as Yeji patiently calms you back into your seat.

Your hands clench so hard you dig marks into your palms. You’re shaking with unbridled rage at his betrayal. You didn't think it was possible to be so angry. Of all people, Namjoon knows exactly how dedicated you are to your work, even when you’re exhausted, how closely you stick to your professional boundaries, even when it hurts, how tirelessly you work to please all seven of them, even if it means being used over and over again without a moment to breathe. You’ve always given everything to your job.

Now he wants to turn around and say that you’ve been fucking slacking?

“You see what I mean,” Namjoon states calmly, though there’s something wavering in his eyes that doesn’t quite match the rest of his confident demeanor. He tries to meet your gaze, tries to get you to look at him, but you refuse, twisting your head away from him before you get yourself charged with murder on top of everything else.

Maybe it would be best for you to get fired. You’d rather live on the streets than be treated like this. Tears prick at your eyes but you blink them away. You refuse to cry in front of him. You won’t give him any more ammunition to use against you.

Yeji looks between you and Namjoon, her lips forming a thin line. “Kim Namjoon,” she addresses him, her voice cold. “Do you wish for my client to remain in this house?”

Namjoon seems surprised at the question, his eyebrows lifting. “Yes, of course.”

“Then, I think a recess is in order.” She stands up and brushes off some invisible lint from her skirt.

You stand up to join her, but she holds out a hand. “No. You two need to talk this out,” she says to you, then looks to Namjoon, staring him down. “I suggest you remember why we’re here, Mr. Kim.” After a moment of silence, she walks to the door. “I’ll be back in ten.”

With that, Yeji exits, and the two of you are left alone.

You cross your arms protectively around yourself, adamantly refusing to look at him. The silence stretches between you.

“Sweetheart-” he starts, but you interrupt him.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you seethe. Proprieties be damned, you’ve had enough. “Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me, you fucking asshole. I have given everything for you and your members, okay? Don’t you fucking dare sit there and tell lies about me, to my face!” You shout, trying to keep your voice from shaking. You know if you keep talking your rage will melt into tears, and you cannot afford to cry in front of him. You simply won’t allow it.

“I know, I know,” Namjoon’s assurance overlaps the end of your sentence. He sighs. Waits a beat.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah! You’d better be.” You still don’t meet his eyes, the betrayal and confusion is just too much. On top of all that, you’ve never lashed out in anger at any of them like this. You still don’t regret shouting at him, but your heart is threatening to beat out of your chest in fear of repercussions. Did you make the situation worse? Is that even possible at this point?

“Look.” His voice is tentative, a little afraid. “I really am sorry, I didn’t mean any of that.”

“Then why the fuck did you say it?” You counter sharply.

“Because!” Now it’s his turn to shout, though he seems to regain himself much more quickly than you. “Because... I don’t know if that woman can be trusted,” he reiterates quietly, as if afraid she might hear him through the door.

Wait, what?

“Yeji?” You squint in utter disbelief. “Of course she can be trusted, what the fuck are you-”

“Not with this.” He sighs again, rakes a hand through his hair. “Listen, you have to trust me.”

You bark a laugh. “Trust you?”

He shakes his head, stopping your objections before you can list them. “This is serious. This is… bigger than either of us.”

His voice is the only thing that gives you pause. Just for a moment. He sounds… desperate. Scared.

You slowly look over to him, and his expression confirms your suspicions. Namjoon is fearful about something, his eyes wide with worry, his hair mussed from being tugged between his fingers. He looks completely different from before, and it has you reluctantly curious.

“What do you mean?” You let him keep talking, though you’re still taking his words with a grain of salt.

“I was… working on something. A better arrangement,” He begins, his eyes reaching out to you, then darting nervously around the room, as if he’s letting you in on his greatest secrets. “But I stumbled onto something bigger. I just… I need you to take some time off for right now, and I need you to trust me that it’s for the best.”

You level your gaze at him, silently weighing your options. He’s being awfully vague.

“What does my time off have to do with anything?” You ask, your suspicion coloring your tone.

“It’s necessary to test my theory properly. If I’m right, then...” He trails off, and you garner that his success would bring about something monumental.

You stare at him. You want to take his words as truth, but he completely undermined you in front of your handler. You can’t let him off the hook so easily. “How can I believe anything you say anymore? You just blew any trust I had in you.”

“I know,” he says, hanging his head. He chews on his lip, then takes a deep breath. “That��s why I’m willing to offer some… collateral.”

He reaches into his pocket and withdraws something small and shiny. “This.” He holds out the object to you, dangling from a short metal chain. “It’s the key to my studio.” His gaze bores into yours as you tentatively reach forward to take it. “The only key,” he adds gravely.

You examine the silver peace offering, and your eyes widen at the implications of such a gesture. His whole life is in that studio. All of his art, his collections, not to mention his computer. His music. His career.

It’s all sitting in the palm of your hand.

He reaches across the table and closes your hand around the key. “You can keep it until I’ve earned your trust again. Okay?” He gives you a brief, dimpled smile, as if to assure you, though sadness and worry still swim behind his eyes.

“Now, sweetheart. Please. I beg of you.” He takes your hand in both of his own, his worried eyes imploring you to trust him. “Please, will you take this vacation?”

#bts #bts smut #bts x reader smut #bts ot7 smut #bts smut fic #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts ot7 #bts fanfic #bts ot7 x reader #bts fic rec #namjoon x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #thank you all for enjoying physcom! <3

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spacegaywritings · 4 years

Text

Warming Paws and melting Walls (5/8) “Territorial Revenge”

Summary: Nobody responded within a week and so Remy made sure to inform Emile so they could repaint the office. Virgil does not like being alone for long, especially when it is unexpected.

Luckily, the two are quick to make up.

Tags: animal waster, cat litter box, urine, descriptions of urine smell, cleaning, a bit of fighting bc this is an upset kitty, food and eating mention, feeding, late nights, metal clanking sound, vaccine mention, vet mention, slight restrictions of breathing? Pining mention, auditory triggers, migraine mention, somft feelings, more snuggles and cuddles, kitty gone bad boi,

i do not think there is any more to be applied. If you need me to add anything, please contact me here or on my tumblr (spacegayparty, spacegaywritings)

My KoFi - Support me ♥ or Commission me

ao3: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 // all.

tumblr: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 (you are here!) / 6 / 7 / 8.

Story under the cut: (Wordcount ~3,1k)

Metal clattered together as the key within the lock pressed deeper into it and started turning in order to open the door at last. The light sound filled the cool air. Eventually, the metal keys fell against the dark colour, wooden door and with a particularly loud ‘knack’ of the door, the lock gave way and the way was free.

Remy finally stepped into his home.

It was dark already but that did not stop him from wanting to go home, it encouraged him even further. He was the kind of person to change the night but with Virgil waiting for him, there was an intense urge to just be with the little pet. The darkness outside his apartment was driving him to be faster when the hours passed and passed.

He had cleaned everything with Emile, right after fucking painting it all and reorganising two fucking offices. It was work. It was a lot of work but it was paid extra work on top of that, yet Remy was not exactly a fan of it. The man liked doing his thing, being left alone a bit but also having some non-annoying or intrusive/persistent social interaction. But.. working with Emile all day was as lovely as it could be exhaustive.

That pal did not gossip enough! Remy wanted to talk about chill things, not how he hated or did not hate his parents and whatnot.

Sometimes he wondered whether people moved away and went to other therapists so they would be safe from all their dreadful puns. Maybe it helped in therapy? He did not know but it made him feel fluttered and warm all the same. Still, it would get him to feel nauseous after some time. Maybe Emile played into his auditory triggers - too many words in too little time.

Remy stepped into his home and closed the door.

The sound of shutting it echoed through the vast emptiness in his apartment. Actually, there was so much nothing, it really filled the complete living space.

Strange..

All he could notice was a certain smell.. a pungent, intense smell. It was odd and he could not quite place it.

It sort of reminded him of...

Oh no.

He carefully switched on the light.

Whenever he used his lights, he could not help but be glad about having found proper lamps that did not cause too much eye strain at once. People who developed and invented ideas for dim light bulbs and lamps that were made to be comfortable rather than stinging in illumination were simply saints and he would never back away from this opinion. Those were fucking heroes because they helped the dumb minorities like him that was too Extra (tm) to live with regular things.

When the dim lights, he loved so much, showered the hallway in golden warmth, he noticed.. a weird bit of something on the floor.

Please please no.

“Virgil?”

He called into the void, for the void.

Nothing came back.

Was the cat okay?

Remy carefully made his way over to the weird something on the floor. It looked like spilled liquid, somewhat translucent and odd.

Did... Did Virgil vomit or pee onto the floor? Holy fuck, it smelled awful in the most indescribable ways. He did not want to describe it anyway, let alone sniff it enough to figure out certain components of the smell or any similarities to other scents.

...Oh dear fuck.

The smell - It was cat pee. Virgil had decided to fucking ruin his floor right in front of the little cat toilet he had put up.

Well... that was it, he supposed. It had been a dream that Remy did not really have to “potty train” the kitten since it came with a lot of good manners already. That was so much of an indicator that the cat was from somewhere, that they were civilised and socialised.

Still, after weeks of no answers, Remy had cut the search and was happy to call the cat his own (albeit he never said so but the smiles on his face were more frequent than before and even his migraines seemed more at ease - not to mention how rare they had become).

But it was too nice to have a cat - a first pet - that just was clean and trained and would use the litter box accordingly.

“I swear, you are going to kill me, Queen. I just cleaned it in the morning. It cannot be that bad, can it?”

He already moved to open a few windows and make sure the horrible smell would yield to the fresh air of the evening.

Maybe he should not have been outside for so long without sending anyone over to check on Virgil and catsit after all. Remy admitted he should look into some silly students who needed the money and would be happy about just cuddling a cat and being able to have some WIFI and such.

But really, he had not planned to stay outside for that long. He had wanted to run over and check in on the dust ghost during his lunch break. Sadly, Emile did have that sort of amnesia effect on him. His horny brain went dumb and forgot all the important logic and memory. Therefore, he had been too stupid from love to really think about Virgil needing him at that moment.

Next time, he would discuss this with Emile beforehand. One mistake was alright as long as nobody was hurt and he learned from it.

With black bags under his eyes and shades perched up on the top of his head, he grabbed a few tissues, gloves and a mop and got ready to clean up. Excitement as great as it could have been in such a situation, he got down to clean up and once done, he finished up over there and tended to the litter box.

Nearly empty. There was like, the usual stuff but it was not much because he had cleaned it in the morning - on purpose!

“Are you fucking kidding me? Virgil, why would you do this?”

A deep groan of annoyance split his lips. He got up to remove the bit of waste that was still residing inside. It just took a few moment and it was already done. He disposed of the dirt properly and put his cleaning utensils into the dedicated space.

A tinge of worry hit him as he did so. The cleanness was achieved at last but what about Vi- Just then, a streak of black crossed his view.

“Virgil!”

His tone was low, touching a bit into the territory of a parent. Specifically, when a goody two shoes did something wrong and the parents got all “I am not mad, just disappointed”.

The kitten ducked away and whipped its tail down before slowly swishing it from side to side.

They almost looked ready to fight and as if Remy had provoked it, the void suddenly jumped at his black boot - yes, just one. This was one smol individual and they had yet to be tol enough to attack two Remy feet at once. Soft paws drummed onto the shoe and the ball of charcoal furry was hissing and scratching.

“Hey! Ow-”, Remy hissed back in surprise and slight aggravation, “Virgil, what the fuck!”

The cat jumped back and Remy quickly dropped his jacket, revealing a black sweat shirt he was wearing underneath.

The angry cat hissed at the man and ducked and arched their back. Then, they went in for the fight, now aiming at his knees. A pair of claws jumped at him, so Remy committed himself to the idiocy of catching the cat and picking them up.

Virgil did not get his knees but they did catch some skin of his arms.

“What is wrong with you, gurl? Do you want to play? This is some shit way to tell me about it, queen. You pissed on my floor.”

Virgil hissed again and Remy blinked in incomprehension. He should learn more about cats or something. Like, take a course in cat training because this whole behaviour was too sudden and confusing for him to make sense of it. These acts were so contrary to what they had done before to him. Even at the start of their relationship they had been somewhat loving towards once another.

He did not want to admit it but.. the cat rejecting him kind of stung. Yeah, his attacked shoes were also a point of inconvenience he did not really approve of but they were manageable.

The cat was down on the ground again but definitely not down-to-earth. They were already spitting fireballs at the belated arrival and Remy was cursed with being puzzled forever since they could not communicate and explain what happened.

Remy was unfortunate to think of Virgil as playfully fighting him. By instinct or whatever.

“Hey Queen, if you wanna play, can you just give me a minute or two, so I can eat? I want to exist, too, and you need to eat as well.”

He collected the food and water bowl and made sure to fill everything properly. Virgil had abandoned him again in favour of creepily staring at him from afar. The tail was swishing like a clock’s ticking arms. And they were counting his time until being brought to justice by Black Cat Law, aka The Void Law.

The cat owner emerged from the kitchen, filled bowls filling his hands.

Dry food, just a bit - minimal amounts. Wet food - the main source of sustenance for the kitty cat. Water - because kitty cat got free bowls of water twice a day, thrice when at work with him.

Remy put it back into place and the kitten quickly returned to retrieve the food.

“Yeah, now you are happy, are you not?”

The cat very much ignored him so they could feast upon the bouts of food brought to them. Finally their slave human was working again and feeding them as he was supposed to.

Rude to just take an unannounced break.

“Yeah, I should have expected you to be bitchy without food. You are just like me, are you not, little honey?”

A chuckle could be heard as he took a little moment to relish in the sounds coming from the Void of Darkness and Fire (tm) purring and chewing. The noises were barely audible but Remy has started picking up the most silent ones. It helped him detect the kitten’s feelings or locations when he needed to tend to the cat. Also, it made finding the cat easier for when he wanted to give them a little goodbye-snuggle before going to work.

The urge to cuddle the cat right now was strong but he made sure to not do it.

Cats hated that, as much as sources told him. Sources were the internet and people and also a book he had gotten by now. And the vet he had visited once more after he decided to keep the cat since nobody seemed to care enough. Also, vaccines.

Other than that, Virgil also scratched him once he tried to snuggle them while eating. This was only legal when Virgil was already snuggled up to him due to pure pity they felt for him. Such a Queen.

“You are too good for anyone, kitty. I am sorry for leaving you alone for so long.”

No answer - but the black blob of fur seemed to be at ease with the food and water. This was a start, he thought to himself. Remy still felt guilty for leaving them alone for so long. Then again, he had expected to have the time and get home for a little bit during his lunch break but that did not work out, somehow. And going after his official working hours was not okay.

He should give someone his keys so they could look after the little Queen of Salt for a bit when he had to stay away longer.

What if an emergency ever came up?

His head shook the thoughts of darkness and anxiety away. Instead, he busied his empty hands with the simple task of reheating some food he had made before. Tomorrow he would get some chicken for his kitten to make up for being so neglectful and thoughtless. He needed to be more considerate and accept his responsibilities. After all, he was some kind of caretaker right now - a cat parent, if you will.

Remy leaned back and took a deep breath.

“Virgiiiiil ~”, he cooed softly and took out a little kitty treat.

Just one.

It was not just for his guilty conscience but also for the cat to know he did not mean to. Virgil needed assurance and the stability of life. Giving him some sort of praise for being alone all day - for literally at least 10 hours - was appropriate, he supposed.

The kitten was already done with their bowl of food and was currently drinking when the smell of more food and the sound of Remy’s - their owner’s voice - reached them. They sensed being called over and looked up from their bowl, licking their muzzle and nose with a satisfied look on their face.

“Kitty cat”, he purred again and the void gently let their tail swish just a bit above the floor for a few single strands of their fur to trace over the dark ground.

They purred back in solidarity. Soft paws sunk into the similarly dark floor. The kitty took one step after the other and slowly progressed, body slightly lethargic from the recent intake of food. The ball of fur and mischief made their way over to Remy and sniffed the air.

A determination ruled their fine movements.

Ah, yes. More food.

Good human.

Their eyes sparked at the man, radiating praise and appreciation.

Remy smiled in return and carefully nudged his hand close enough for Virgil to nibble at the treat. Immediately, they welcome it into their mouth. Without realising it, the owner visibly relaxed, the air standing in his lungs was flowing out of his nostrils and allowed him to inhale deeply. His posture eased up and his shoulders were now more straightened and calm compared to before. St a few moments ago, the weight of guilt tore down his body and forced his back to be crooked along with pushing his shoulders into a hunching position.

No more guilt was crushing him anymore, though. The cat had accepted his apology and was carefully pushing their head into Remy’s idle palm. The feeling of warmth, a bit of dampness and furry delight was tickling the receptors in his hand. The warmth travelled up to his chest, spreading throughout all of his body in the process.

“You are too good for me. Aw, Virgil. Little Queen of Salt”, he purred and gently shifted to lean over and started brushing over the smooth and slightly shining fur of his little companion.

His left was holding the curious head of a peculiar kitty cat and he gently started scritching their chin - well, the underside of their chin. It was a bit lighter than the rest of their body. At least, this is what it seemed like to him. It felt warmer and more brownish, yet just as lovely as the rest of them.

Peaceful purring filled the room with soft sounds and calming noise instead of haunting silence

“I love you too”, he chuckled.

Maybe he did not know everything about cats, nor did he understand all his little sass-bean was trying to express with their general body posture, the position of their torso or their tail either - really, he did not know much at all - but he was still trying his best. He certainly was getting better at it and this counted, did it not? Also, it was not like he did not try to educate himself. His workplace naps were replaced by reading in his “cat bible” and literally taking notes.

Hands gently curled around the food-filled body of a satisfied little void. Cradling the coal cat in his arms, he held them close to his heart and walked over to their couch.

“Does my little storm cloud want to cuddle?”

His voice was a low coo and the kitten responded with audible purrs and an enthusiastic bonk when their heads crushed together again.

Ow.

... He would totally never get used to cats showing affection like that.

Well, still worth it.

Apparently, cats did that to show love or some trash. Whatever, Virgil barely ever did it but it got more and more frequent after their first days together. Now it was more often instead of rarely but it certainly was not the most usual and common thing between them.

Still, it could change. At the moment he just wanted to relish in the warmth of their cuddles and the comfort of their intimacy.

Remy flopped onto the couch and left the cat on his chest while he simply laid down flat onto his back like a lazy plank swimming in the water. Just floatin’... simply going with the flow, adapting to any wave.

The cat returned the action by softly pushing their paws into his ribs. Lungs complained due to the compromised volume for more precious and essential oxygen. Not that Remy cared.. nor did Virgil have the cognitive ability to care.

“You having fun there, kitty?”

This cat was royalty and Remy would continue to lay around and simply have them run up and down his body. All he wanted to do was.... just take off his pants and such and put on a more comfortable and flexible pyjama. Falling asleep in tight jeans was not as great (they were great for getting some looks from his boss, though). The idea of moving around right now was just as unpleasant as the idea of falling asleep and waking up in the pants he had worked and sweated in all day.

Unfazed by anything, the void was simply preparing their human bed for a little longer before settling down onto his ribcage...warm and pressing. Just a tad uncomfortable.

“Okay, there you go-”

Yes, this was love.

Remy was too exhausted and comfortable to feel too bothered by his air flow being obstructed. Slowly, he felt himself drift off. The man was soon in a light version of a slumber and gradually become a victim to the sweet relief of a little nap. The discomfort of sweaty and smelly clothes was forgotten when exhaustion took over. The overwhelming state of being physically drained got the best of him.

All good sentiment was forgotten when the comfort of a good cat and a warm home hugged him.

Bye bye meal he had wanted to have. He was already satisfied in other way.

He was home.

This was heaven.

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