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cjsoleil · 3 months

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My Love That I’m Giving You Don’t Buy, So I Hide (Lee Know x Han)

Summary:

Han and Minho have been working together at the same accounting firm for a while now, and for some reason, Minho simply doesn’t like Han. At least that’s what he thinks. After a drunken night, Minho makes his true feelings clear at the office.

Warnings: Smut (MDNI)

The sounds of typing on a keyboard is somehow soothing, despite how when Jisung first started working, he found it more annoying than his friends. Which is saying something. He guesses it’s because the sound is a constant in his life and he has grown used to it. Sometimes he likes to make a little beat to the clicking sound in his head, bouncing his leg to it. Melodies can be found in anything, he suppose.

“Hyung, stop daydreaming.” Jisung looks up to see Seungmin’s fluffy brown hair peaking over the desks divider. He finds it somewhat creepy how the younger doesn’t even have to look at him to know that he’s not doing any work. No shock though, Seungmin loves proficiency despite just being an intern, still in school.

“I’m on my break.”

“Liar.”

“Shush. Listen to your elder and do your own work.” Seungmin shrugs.

“Guess I won’t tell you what I heard.”

Han slowly pushes out his chair in an almost comical way, tilting his head towards the puppy like intern.

“What is it?” He leans in close, whispering,

“Is it about Minyoung? She’s really dating someone over ten years younger-“

“Not that kind of gossip.” Seungmin interrupts, shaking his head,

“You know how Heejin is moving to Japan. Her husband was offered some job out there.” Han instantly smiles at the old news. It’s not that he doesn’t like the woman, she’s very kind, but Heejin resigning gives him a chance at getting a promotion. They work at a accounting firm. Big enough that they have plenty of clientele, some even being famous. Small enough so that the workers are cared about and not just numbers in the business.

“I overheard a couple of the managers say it’s between you and Minho, congrats.” Han sighs, wheeling back to his desk, “C’mon hyung. It’s not that bad.”

“Minho hates me Seungminnie! I haven’t even done anything to him.”

“He doesn’t hate you. He just wants to fuck you.”

“Seungmin!” Han whispers shouts, “Shut up. And you know that’s not true.” He’s pretty sure Minho isn’t interested in men.

“Even if he did hate you, who cares?” Seungmin attempts to comfort the elder, “Minho is just so… intimidating. I don’t want to be on his bad side more than I already am.”

Minho is the textbook definition of perfection. He is a hard worker who puts good use out of his full potential, he is smart and teaches the interns well. The man appears to be mean to the bone, but the pictures of his cats that he leaves on his desk shows otherwise. He is respectful and, in all truth, so hot. And Han is not saying that because he happens to find Minho attractive. Everyone acknowledges that he’s hot, even Seungmin said so once.

He transferred to this firm just a couple months ago and for a reason that Han does not know, Minho does not like him. He doesn’t fully disrespect him or anything, but whenever they talk, it almost feels like he’s being degraded in a way. Minho sometimes acts as if he’s uncomfortable being around Han too. Han doesn’t even know what he did! He would apologize if he knew that he said or did something to make the man uncomfortable.

“If you’re that concerned, confront him about it.” Jisung blankly stares at him before letting out a sarcastic laugh.

“Ha ha, you’re so funny thinking my anxiety would let me do that.” Seungmin hums and Han tries to change the conversation,

“Are you coming to the bar next week?” The younger stares at him like he just said something so idiotic,

“I’m getting paid to drink. Of course.” Their work holds events like these all the time. Team bonding or whatever excuse they use. Everyone gets paid to go to a bar, eat and get drunk.

“Are you finally going to bring your man?” A new voice enters, and Seungmin rolls his eyes at the sound as Han smiles.

“I’m not going to if you pester me, Changbin hyung.” The muscular man leans against the corner of Han’s and Seungmin’s desks.

“C’mon Minnie.” Jisung starts with a teasing tone, “Stop hiding him from us, we’ve known you what? Two years?”

“Letting you guys meet Jeongin would end with me being embarrassed.” Seungmin replies, looking at a file on his desk, “Focus on getting your own boyfriend.” Han fakes the action of getting stabbed in the heart.

“Oh yeah.” Changbin looks at the other, “How’s the dating scene going?” Jisung shrugs, unproductive is what the answer is.

“I just…” he clicks his tongue, looking off to the side. It’s a mistake, he makes direct eye contact with Minho who’s at his own desk. To Han’s surprise, he doesn’t look away, he just stares deep into Jisung’s soul without a mere shimmer of emotion that he can detect. The younger can’t even move, almost as if Medusa had turned him to stone, forever keeping him locked in the trance of Minho’s eyes.

That is until Minho cocks his eyebrow at him, and Jisung cowardly looks away back down on his desk.

“I guess I haven’t found the right person.” Changbin and Seungmin, who had just watched in amusement as Jisung was a deer in headlights for their coworker, share a knowing look.

“The one will come along Sungie.” Changbin reassures, wearing a soft smile.

“Yeah.” The youngest adds with a fond look in his eyes, thinking of his own love, “They’re always closer than you think.” Jisung nods his head with a grin, somewhat forced.

“Yeah yeah. Now go get to work before Chan catches you.” At the mention of the elder’s name, Changbin walks the short distance back to his own desk, waving back at the younger two. Seungmin looks back down at his file and Jisung does the same. After a few minutes, just for a second, he looks up towards Minho’s desk to see him typing on his computer, completely focused on his task. The accountant sighs before turning to his own work.

Han sits at a table along with Changbin and a few other coworkers in a bar. Seungmin was sitting with them as well, but he got dragged over by other departments to do shots with them. He probably got drunk within the first hour.

“Hey guys.” Jeongin greets when he comes over, with a clearly intoxicated Seungmin on his arm. Jeongin came with Seungmin like his coworkers requested, they all find him lovely, “We’re going to head out now. Just wanted to say goodbye, right Minnie.” Seungmin giggles and rests his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder,

“Innie, I didn’t tell you about one of my clients. He’s a giant-“ he emphasizes the last word, “deal.” He tilts his head up to loudly whisper in Jeongin’s ear, “It’s the pitcher for lotte giants.” Jisung and Changbin stare wide eyed at Seungmin sharing confidential information. Jeongin pats Seungmin’s hair,

“Didn’t hear anything.” He tells the older two, faking oblivion, “Anyways, nice meeting you all. Take care.”

“Noo..”

“We’re going sweetheart.”

“Okay, bye~” The two boys leave and a number of people follow soon after.

Jisung takes a look around the room, but his eyes linger at the bar where Minho sits. His back is facing him so Jisung doesn’t have to be worried about him catching his stare, but at the same time he wishes to see the man’s face. Changbin’s voice forces him to look away.

“Talk to him.” The elder tells him, way too loudly. Changbin is a loud man, only more so when he’s drunk. Jisung shakes his head no, as if he’s a child and Changbin whines like one. “Don’t be a coward!” He pesters the younger man until he finally agrees, downing his drink in one go before walking to the bar. Maybe stumbling is a better word, because Han is drunk out of his mind. Drunk enough to loose his balance and sense of embarrassment. It explains how he has no shame going up to Minho.

“Hey!” Jisung exclaims, sitting next to the other. Minho’s eyes widen for a second, not expecting to have this visiter, but he soon has to conceal a smile.

“Yes?” He asks, paying the younger barely any mind. Han didn’t really have any clue on what he was going to say, so he just repeats the greeting before asking the bartender for another drink.

“Are you sure you should be drinking more?” Minho questions, making Han cutely pout in anger.

“You’re not my boss.” He responds, then after taking a moment to think, “If you get Minyoung’s job, than you are, but not right now.” Minho hums, really the position isn’t exactly boss, but it certainly is higher than their current position so he doesn’t bother to make any correction.

“That’s right, if not, you will be my boss.” He finally turns to look at the younger accountant, expressionless,

“What a smart boy you are, hm?”

Blood floods to Jisung’s face and neck and he unconsciously let out a barely noticeable whimper. If he was in the right mind, he would have been insulted. It’s condescending, but Han’s intoxicated mind finds the words only make him feel good.

“I-I am?“ he stutters for a few seconds before finishing his drink.

“Yes, so smart.” Minho repeats, “So you know that’s your last drink.” Han puts the glass down and nods, because he is smart. He knows he’s had enough.

Minho looks around the bar and sees that most of their coworkers have already left. He should be going too. Standing from the stool, Han follows suit. The older man starts to walk towards the door, and the younger only stares until Minho turns around.

“Come on, Jisung.” He wasn’t expecting to be invited to follow, because Minho doesn’t like him, but he obeys and stumbles his way to him. “Damn it, be careful.” Minho says irritably when Jisung nearly fell face first on the concrete the moment they got outside.

“Sorry.” Minho rolls his eyes at his apology and pats his head, making the younger’s eyes widen significantly.

“Don’t apologize, just listen.” Minho wraps an arm around Jisung’s waist, supporting his weight, “I can smell the alcohol on you, how much did you drink?” He shakes his head when Han opens his mouth to answer, “Nevermind, let’s just get you home.” Jisung can only go along as Minho brings them to his car and helps the younger get inside.

“What’s your address, Jisung?” Minho asks, but he doesn’t answer. He doesn’t feel compelled in the slightest to do so. Going home means that Minho would leave, and he’s being so nice to him. He wants to stay with this Minho. Minho who is pretty and kind and caring. He repeats his name again when Han doesn’t answer.

“Don’t wanna go home.” He pouts as if he’s a child, and it’s oh so cute. Minho decides to amuse him.

“Then where would you like to go?” Han leans towards the elder, grabbing his arm before whispering out in the silence of the car,

“With Minho hyungie.”

Minho clenches his hand on the steering wheel. Jisung has never called him that before.

“Ah, but I can’t go home with you. I have cats to feed.” He tried to joke around with the younger, but he just repeats that he wants to be with his hyung, and as strong as Minho is, he is not a god. He can’t resist Jisung’s cute face any more than he can resists the cats.

That’s how they end up like this, with Minho guiding Jisung through the door and helping the younger take off his shoes.

“Go sit on the couch, I’ll get you some water. Do you feel sick?” Han shakes his head before diving onto the couch, stretched out just like one of Minho’s pets. Jisung hums to an unheard melody as he feels a small weight on is back, than another one. And another one. He feels a fur on his skin where his shirt rode up and on his bare neck, but he welcomes the warmth.

Coming back from the kitchen with a glass of water in his hand, Minho grins at the sight of Han, face down on the couch with Dori on his head, Sonnie between his legs and Donngie laying on his butt. No, Minho is not jealous of his cat.

“Aw, it’s rude to pray on the vulnerable.” He puts down the water on the coffee table and moves Dori off the younger’s head to stop him from suffocating,

“Up up.” He clicks his tongue and helps ease Jisung into a proper sitting position. Han whines as he does so, and Minho sits beside him before he lifts the cup of water to his lips. He pulls the cup away when it’s almost half empty.

“Why…” The drunk man starts, avoiding looking at Minho by petting the cat closest to him, “Why are you being- being so nice to me?” His eyes start to water. He can’t help but be emotional, because he’s confused. Minho doesn’t like being near him, but he’s being so doting. “Taking care of me?”The elder man tilts his head,

“Han.” The younger doesn’t look up, “I wasn’t going to leave you alone in the state you’re currently in.” Jisung brings a hand up to wipe his face, when he feels a tear fall.

“But you hate me.” He whispers, voice cracking. Minho frowns and his jaw clenched. Taking a deep breath, he forces himself to relax before speaking in a soft tone.

“Jisung.” He’s hesitant, but ultimately brushes the younger’s jaw with his fingers, lightly turning his head to face him,“Jisungie.” Han’s breath hitches as he makes eye contact with the elder, “I don’t hate you. I can’t fathom the idea of hating you. You're simply… wonderful.”

Han’s his heart skips a beat and a fluttering feeling comes to his stomach. It’s almost similar to the familiar sensation of anxiety, but it’s different. Instead of rendering Han paralyzed, it pushes him forward. So he leans in and kisses Minho without leaving time for him to move away.

It’s embarrassing, how many times Han has imagined this moment. He truly wasted his time, because nothing in his dreams can compare to the real thing.

Han has his eyes closed, but Minho’s remain open. He allows the other to take control in his state of slight shock, but once he realizes what’s happening, he cups the sides of Han’s face and pushes him away. The younger man whimpers at the distance, and tries to kiss him again, but Minho keeps him still.

“You’re drunk.” Minho says softly, like he’s speaking to an animal, “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

He didn’t think Han could get anymore red, he was wrong.

“Hey, let’s go to bed. You’re going to have such a hangover in the morning.” He brings Jisung to his bedroom, because he is a guest and not sleeping on the couch. Minho grabs a pair of sweatpants and a spare shirt.

“Can you change by yourself?” Han nods, fighting the part of his brain that wants Minho to stay. Han changes into the pants but leaves the shirt since he feels like his skin is boiling, and lays on his side on the bed. Eventually he dozed off, but wakes a little when he feels a warmth covering him. Something grazes his cheek and he has just enough sense to reach up and grab what turned out to be a hand.

“Stay.” Han requests with a tired voice, on the verge of falling back to sleep. He lets Minho pulls away, and after a minute, he feels a weight behind him. Jisung shuffles back so his back is against Minho’s chest. He lulls to sleep with the warmth spreading throughout his body and Minho’s arms wrapped around his waist, caging him in and keeping him safe.

When Han wakes up, the only thing he can feel is a pounding pain in his head, a reminder of how much he drank yesterday. After a few minutes, he opens his eyes and thankfully, the lights in the room are off and the curtains are closed. When he sits up fully, a wave of nausea hits him like a bus. Ignoring it, he looks around the room, finding it unfamiliar. On the beside table is a cup of water and two pills. After taking them, he slowly lays back down again, staring at the ceiling as he tries to piece together what the fuck happened last night. He feels the blanket against his bare chest, and quickly lifts up the blanket, sighing in relief when he sees his bottom half covered.

“No.” Jisung suddenly whispers, embarrassment filling him as he remember forcing Minho to take him to his home, spoon him and oh my god-

Han shoved his face in the pillow under his head and groans.

‘I kissed Minho, I’m so stupid, how could I do that?’

“Fuck my life.” A sudden scratching at the door interrupts Jisung’s spiral of mortifying self dread. He gets up, ignoring the prominent pain of his head and opens the door to be greeted by an orange cat.

He smiles, “Hey cutie.” He attempts to crouch down but ends up just falling on his butt. Petting the cat, he recognizes the familiar sound of a shower running. Han frowns, he can’t believe he kissed Minho without his consent. His coworker. Who is probably straight. Jisung doesn’t want to be confronted so he decided not to give Minho the chance.“Sorry, I have to go.” He gives the cat a finally pat on the head before he goes back in the room and changes into his clothes from yesterday before making his way out of the apartment. The only reminisce of him left is a sticky note with the words ‘thank you’ on the fridge.

Han is incredibly grateful that he had two days off after the night at the bar, because he didn’t have to see Minho. It’s cowardly, he knows, maybe even a little mean. He wishes could just have an adult conversation about what happened, but no, he’s going to avoid the elder until one of them quits or retires.

“Han can you bring these over to Minho?” Changbin asks as he puts a file on the younger’s desk. Han knows what he’s doing, his hyung has been pushing for more details on what happened after he left the bar last week. It’s clear to everyone in his department that he’s been avoiding Minho like the plague, so Changbin made it his personal goal to figure out why.

Han turns to Seungmin, “Can you give-“

“Nope.” He answers before Jisung can finish.

“Please-“

“Tell me what’s going on and I will.” Seungmin leans on his desk, lowering his voice, “Did he do anything to you?”

“No no.” he protests before explaining , “He brought me to his home, but we didn’t do… anything.”

“What did you do between that pause in your sentence?” Changbin asks and Jisung whispers, shamefully,

“I kissed him.” Silence overtakes the three for a second, before the eldest turns towards Seungmin.

“Called it.” The younger rolls his eyes, as Jisung gapes at them, “Hannie, it’s so obvious that he likes you.”

“He didn’t kiss me back.”

“Yeah, cause you were drunk.” Seungmin says it like it’s obvious, which it is.

“Go over and kiss him right now, completely sober and aware, he’d love it.”

“Ew.” The youngest comments, “Wait until I’m gone.”

“Nothing is going to happen.” Han insists, “Just forget it.” Both his friends oblige, and stop asking questions.

“Hyung.” Seungmin’s voice grabs his attention, “Can I ask you to do me a favour.” He sighs,

“Sure.”

“Can you take one of my clients, just for today?” Han looks curiously at the younger.

“Why?” Seungmin smiles softly,

“It’s Jeongin’s birthday today. I was hoping to get home early and surprise him.”

“Aww.” Jisung playfully clutches his chest, “So sweet. Of course I will.”

“Really?” Seungmin perks up and Han laughs.

“Yeah really. Go home loverboy.”

While Seungmin is about to leave, he bumped into Changbin, who was totally not listening in on their conversation.

“When is Jeongin’s real birthday?”

“Not till February.”

“Ah.” Changbin nods before holding up the file in his hand, “I’m giving this to Minho. Good plan, by the way.”

“If I have to deal with their sexual tension for any longer I am going to quit.”

“Did you not consider that them getting together could make them worse.”

“… damn it.”

Han huffs as he finally finished up with Seungmin’s work. It was easy, but took quite a bit of time. So now, everyone in the office has left.

Well, everyone besides Minho.

As awkward as being alone with him is for Jisung, he is still grateful for the man’s presence, otherwise he would have to lock up the building. He puts away his stuff before getting up, preparing to leave. As he walked pass Minho’s desk, he feels a hand grab his elbow.

“Han.” Minho’s cold voice rings loud in the empty room.

“What?” Han squeaks as Minho stands.

“What are you-“ he can’t finish his sentence, as Minho grabs his collar, pushes the younger man to him and harshly kissed him. Han’s hands hover in the air as he tries to process what’s happening. Minho’s hands move to cup the back of his head and rest on his lower back. Jisung grasps the front of Minho’s shirt and kisses him back. He moves Jisung so he’s leaning on his desk, the wood digging into Han’s thighs. Finally, Han pushes Minho away, panting as he wipes his mouth of saliva. They stare at each other in silence, as if they aren’t at work and have all the time in the world.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Minho whispers in the quiet room, “I wanted to talk to you properly, but you never gave me the chance. So allow me to do so now.” Minho takes a deep breath in, “You remember me bringing you to my place when you were drunk, right?” Han nods hesitantly, “and you remember what happened?”

“Mostly.” Han mumbles, already knowing where the conversation was leading to, “I’m sorry I left. And for avoiding you, I just-“ he swallows down his anxiety before saying, “I thought you were going to be mad at me.” Smiling softly, Minho cups his face and makes him look at him,

“Clearly you thought wrong.”

“Yeah.” Minho runs his thumb over Han’s lips.

“Why did you think I hated you?” The question has been bugging him all week.

“Oh, real-really I was being dramatic.” Han quickly tries to explain, “It just seemed like you were, I don’t know, uncomfortable around me? Like you were never relaxed with me around.”

“Ah.” Minho blushes and brings his hand to hold Jisung’s, “I’m sorry that’s the impression I gave, but you are all wrong.”

The younger tilts his head cutely, “What do you mean?” Minho sighs, leaning his head back before looking at Han.

“I really like you, Jisungie.” He plants his hands on the desk, caging him in, “I like your voice. Your smile. Your soft face. I love the little pout you do. Just like the one you have now- really everything about you gets me going.” He leans closer, making the two only inches away from each other,

“So you don’t understand how difficult it is for me to refrain from kissing you, from getting closer and closer because I want to be in your space all the time. I didn’t want to be too forward and risk your comfort.” Oddly enough, the first thing that comes to Han’s mind is cursing out Seungmin for being right about Minho’s feelings.

“I’m comfortable with you.” Jisung blurts out, “You can… I want you to kiss me. Do whatever you want.” Minho’s eyes darken and he kisses a spot under Jisung’s ear,

“What I want to do is bend you over this desk.” He kisses Han’s lips, muffling a whimper, “Turn my smart boy into a dumb little mess.” Jisung shivers, wrapping his arms around Minho’s shoulders.

Minho lifts Jisung onto the desk, kissing him while rubbing his sides, “Would you like that?”

Han’s breath hitched, and he tries to remain somewhat intact. Minho wants him. And he wants Minho too. So bad.

“I would.” Is all he can rasp out as Minho kisses his neck.

“Hm?”

“I want you.” Jisung says louder, breathing in shakily, “I want hyung. Now.” He moans as Minho bites his neck, “But- Minho.” Jisung stutters, “What if someone comes in?” In most settings this question would seem stupid, since it’s around ten at night and nobody is currently in office other than them. In this case, it’s actually a possibility. How their job works is that they can come in at any time, as long as they work a full shift. So they have a few coworkers who like to come in at odd hours.

“Alright.” Minho lifts the younger with a strong grip on his thighs and walks them to an office room, all while placing small kisses on Jisung’s face.

“Open the door baby.” Han nods and reaches behind himself to open the door. Minho kicks it closed behind him before quickly locking it.

The desk has nothing on it, since the office has been unused for a few weeks, so Minho quickly lays Jisung down on the smooth surface. He kisses the younger harshly on his lips, just for a few seconds, before moving to kiss his neck and bite his collar bones. As he relishes the sounds of Jisung’s whimpers, he unbuttons his polo shirt, exposing more skin for him to explore.

“Hyung.” Han moans as Minho pinches his nipples and sucks his chest, leaving marks as he goes along. When Minho reaches the waist band of his pants, he is quick to push them off, along with his shoes and boxers. This leaves Han naked besides the unbuttoned shirt. Minho grabs his thighs and pulls him forward do his legs are hanging off the desk. The elder drops to his knees and starts to kiss up Jisung’s thighs, traveling further until he reaches his hole. Han chokes a sob as Minho dips his tongue inside him.

“Min- Minho I-“ He never finishes what he was about to say, he’s broken down to a moaning mess the second the elder moves and licks along his tip. He jerks his hips, and Minho grabs his waist to keep him still. The action only makes him harder as he realizes how fucking small Jisung is.

“You’re precious.” He coos before placing a sweet kiss on his hole, “Absolutely darling.”

Minho stands up and presses three of his fingers against Jisung’s lips, tapping a few times. The younger instantly opens his mouth and allows Minho to push his fingers in.

“Baby.” Minho groans as Jisung grabbed his wrist to bring him closer, “Look at you. What a good boy.” He shivers from the feeling of Han’s tongue. After a few moments, Minho pulls his hand away and wastes no time to kneel back down and put one finger into Jisung’s hole. The younger cries out and tightens around Minho instantly.

“Hyung!” Minho does not relent and adds another, stretching him out. With that he adds his tongue, dipping inside beside his fingers. Minho is giving him so much, it’s breaking him down, but all Han can think about is the fact he wants more. Jisung reaches up to him and grabs his shoulders, trying to push him away. Minho obliges and moves to look at the younger, pecking Han’s bright pink lips multiple times. “Want you Minho.” Jisung mumbles against his lips, trying to control his own breathing, “Want you so bad.”

Now, Minho considers himself a patient man, but he’s still a man. So how could he ever deny the sweet thing below him. He stands up straight and removes his fingers from Jisung before helping him off the desk. Practically manhandling him, Minho manoeuvres him so he’s facing the desk before placing a hand in between Jisung’s shoulder blades and pushing him down so his chest meets the desk. Kissing up Han’s spine, Minho unzips his pants and presses against Jisung, letting out a moan when he feels his hot skin on his. “Jisung, honey.” Minho starts, kissing Han’s shoulders, “You know I could never hate you.” “Yeah.” He pants, whining slightly. “Good.” The elder grabs harshly onto Han’s hips, fingers digging into his tan skin. He kisses the younger’s ear before whispering,

“Cause I’m gonna fuck you like I hate you.”

With a quick, strong thrust of his hips, he pushes himself into Jisung, immediately moaning when he tightens around him. “Minho! Oh-“ Han shouts. By now, both of them have completely forgotten where they are, only focused on each other. Breathing heavily, Minho rests his head on Han’s back, nuzzling the material of his shirt. Jisung whimpers and tries to grab the man behind him as he starts to move in and out of Jisung’s tight hole, he’s barely has any time to adjust,

“Please- Please please hyungie-“ he begs like it’s the only thing he knows, despite being highly educated. It’s music for Minho, “Please.” He mocks the younger with a whiny voice, “Please what?” He grabs his hair with one hand and uses it to keep his head pinned on the desk. He shifts a bit, using his grip on Jisung to move harder, hitting right on that special spot inside him.

“Fuck!” He sobs. The wood of the desk beneath him is cold against his burning skin, “Minho Minho-“ The elder smiles kissing the boy’s neck. “Yes? What is it?” Jisung doesn’t respond, he can’t find the words to give even the most simplest answer. He can’t help it, Minho is moving erratically, “Hey, where’s my smart boy gone to?” Minho smirks with a sadistic glint to it, and wraps his arms around Han’s waist and chest pulls him up so he’s standing. Jisung groans from the movement, and Minho is still rocking inside of him. “Shit.” His head falls back against his shoulder, eyes closed. “Did I fuck you stupid already? You’re even drooling baby.” Keeping one hand firmly on Jisung’s chest to keep him standing, Minho wipes the saliva that escaped his mouth with his thumb. He runs his thumb over Han’s lips before moving his head to kiss him. He holds the younger’s jaw and licks into his mouth, swallowing his moans. When Minho pulls away, Jisung isn’t even given the chance to complain since Minho is bending him over the desk again, “I’m gonna break you baby.” Minho tells the younger between moans, “Gonna take you apart right here- don’t worry I’ll- I’ll love you right when I take you home. Real slow and sweet.” He moves harder, keeping Jisung pinned down with a hand on the nape of his neck as his other reaches in front of the younger to fist him, making him keen.

“Come- am gonna- Minho comming-“

It only takes a few jerks of his wrist to make Han come over his stomach, moaning out Minho’s name as he jerks against the desk and Minho’s hand. He whimpers and whines when Minho somewhat intentionally overstimulates him as he keeps moving for a few more seconds. When he feels as if he’s about to burst, Minho pulls out of Jisung. He wraps his hand around himself and quickly comes with a soft moan.

Panting, Minho runs his hand through Han’s hair a few times before putting his pants back on properly and helping Jisung stand up. With one hand, he grabs a packet of tissues from his pockets and uses a few to wipe Jisung clean, shushing his whimpers. “Darling boy.” Minho coos in his ear, turning Han around and buttoning his shirt for him. Jisung lifts his arms and wraps them around Minho’s shoulders, pulling him in for a kiss. The elder responds quickly, kissing Jisung sweetly as he rubs his sides. When Han pulls away, Minho kisses his cheeks, a few of the marks he left on his neck, and ends with a kiss to Jisung’s temple, “Would this be a good time to ask you out?” Han snorts, resting his head on Minho’s shoulder, “I’d love to.”

Minho walks into an office and leans back against the wall, letting out a short whistle. “Love what you done with the place.” The man at the desk laughs, looking around himself, “Oh yes, thanks to you hyung.” Han responds as he moves a succulent to a different corner on the desk, a plant that Minho got him, “I don’t know how I’m going to be able to work.” He playfully glares at the other, “I blame you.” “Why?” Minho walks over to the desk, standing across from Han, “Bringing up memories, boss?” Jisung shivers, “Don’t call me that.” He says, ignoring the image in his head of Minho fucking him over the desk that is now his, “Are we going?” “Yeah. Can’t keep Chan waiting.”

The two make their way to Chan’s office, neither bothering to knock since he’s been expecting them. Chan looks up from his computer and smiles when he sees the two, “Didn’t assault anyone, right Minho?” The man in question rolls his eyes at Chan as him and Jisung sit on the chairs across from Chan on the desk.

“Hi Chan hyung.” Chan smiles softly at the younger, he’s always had a soft spot for him, “Jisung. Now seriously, what brings you two here?” Han looks down in his lap, smiling when Minho grabs one of his hand’s and interlocks their fingers. Minho brings their hands up and places a quick kiss on the back of Jisung’s hand.

“Jisung and I are in a relationship.” Minho states bluntly to the head of HR, “We just came to notify you.” Chan nearly rolls his eyes and Minho’s formalness, but he instead laughs softly.

“Congrats guys. You two are good together.” He says, genuinely happy the two have gotten together, “You guys can go though, I just quickly have to put it on file.” Both Han and Minho thank the older man for his time and leave.

Chan pulls out a file from his filing cabinet. “Finally.” He mumbles as he puts the already filled out form on his desk, “It was collecting dust.”

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fredkinnie · 1 year

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L4D2 Nick x Reader

Office AU

Gender neutral reader Nick does call them sweetheart condescendingly (because hes an asshole)

Recently rediscovered this oneshot I wrote over a year ago as a joke(?) thing with a friend, not my best work but I think the concept was cute so if anyone's interested !! I don't know how to format fanfics on here bear with me. ALSO I edited it a little but also not really . not my best work so apologies D:

“As you both probably know, Ellis’ birthday is tomorrow.” You shuffled in your chair, attempting to make yourself comfortable. Of all the things your boss, Rochelle Torres, could have pulled you into her office for you were rather surprised it had to do with the birthday of one of your coworkers. Ellis Thompson was relatively new to your small sales office- he recently moved from manufacturing- but you got on quite well with him. The man seated to your left, however, did not.

“And? What, do I need to bake overalls a birthday cake or something, maybe hire some strippers to jump out of it?” This sarcastic quip came from no other than Nicolas “Nick” Wright, the well dressed and, admittedly, rather attractive salesman with a rather unnatractive attitude. He was known around the office for his pessimism and sarcasm, and the damned white suit, blue shirt combo he wore to work every day. However, he was great at his job and an excellent leader. In fact, he wasn’t half bad when he was focused. You’d even managed to coax a compliment out of him the last time the two of you were assigned to a project together.

“No.” Rochelle responded after a moment, giving him a warning glance. It was obvious she was amused yet unenthused by his comment, the newly promoted woman was still finding a balance between banter with her subordinates and the level of professionalism needed by a regional manager. She was doing a good job, though, you noted internally. Much better than Nick, who so clearly struggled with professionalism. Rochelle spoke again, interrupting your thoughts about the suited salesman. “Actually, I need you two to decorate the conference room. Louis normally takes care of it, as you know, but his sister’s wedding happened to coincide with Ellis’ birthday.

“I approved his time off in advance and told him I’d take care of finding someone to set up the party, but then I forgot. I’ve just been really busy and it slipped my mind, I’m sorry for the short notice, guys.” Rochelle sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose before looking back apologetically at you and Nick. You glanced to your left to gauge Nick’s reaction, which was unsurprisingly not a happy one. He looked like he was about to say something he’d later regret, so you cut him off.

“Don’t worry! We know you’ve had a lot on your hands as of late, it’s okay to make a mistake once and a while. Just tell us what we need to do specifically and we’ll do it, no problem.” You could practically feel Nick’s blank stare boring into the side of your head, but as Rochelle smiled you realized that he realized that you just saved his fucking ass. You’re welcome, Nick.

“Well, I went ahead and took care of the cake, so don’t worry about that. I took some time and dug around to find what party supplies we had on hand, so you’ll find that stuff in the conference room. Just go in there and do your best to spruce up the room, that’s all I can really ask.” You nodded, taking her statement as a que to exit. You stood up and looked toward Nick, who still hadn’t left his chair.

“Why did you choose me for this? At least the country boy and (Y/N) are actually friends.” He huffed, crossing his arms and sliding down in his seat slightly. It was almost funny to watch a grown man act so juvenile, especially a man who acted as macho as Nick did. This time there was no amusement in Rochelle’s stare.

“You two are my top salespeople. I figured you both deserved a break for all the hard work you do around here, however if doing things for your coworkers feels like a punishment to you I can make it one. Get working on it, now.” She said sternly, pointing a pink painted nail toward the door. He seemed to get the message as he scurried out after you.

A pack of 24 assorted multicolor balloons, a pile of colored construction paper, and a spool of twine were waiting on the conference room table for the two of you. Beside them sat various office supplies, including a tape dispenser, a hole puncher, and a pair of scissors.

“Alright, here’s the game plan. Take the hole puncher and make some confetti with the construction paper. The custodians will hate us but it’ll make the table look more festive. I’ll make a banner with the paper and twine, then we’ll blow some balloons.” You directed, handing him the hole puncher before turning to grab the supplies you’d need. You had a vivid picture of what you needed to do in your mind. If you cut the letters in “Happy Birthday Ellis” out of the construction paper, then punched holes into the tops of them, you could string them on the twine and hang it up above the tabl-

“Who died and put you in charge?” Nick retorted, begrudgingly reaching for a piece of paper to begin his confetti making journey with. His scowl was even worse than it typically was, which was saying something.

“Probably the same person who died and made you a huge bitch. Like seriously, what’s your deal? Might do you some good to take the stick out of your ass and try to enjoy things once and a while.” You didn’t spare him a glance, instead beginning to cut an H out of a piece of orange construction paper. The room fell silent, save for the clicking of the hole puncher and the sound of scissors gliding across paper. Yes, what you said was unprofessional. That much you acknowledged, and if he decided to take that up with HR (that is, when the HR representative Louis came back from vacation) you were willing to take the consequences that came along with it. However it was the truth, and it needed to be said. You kept cutting.

“Sweetheart, if anyone else had said that I would have punched them.” Nicholas replied quietly, a few moments after the silence had gotten awkward. His voice was so soft, it was startling. What he said didn’t feel rude or like a threat, it just felt personal. The silence returned. You finished cutting H, then A, and P, another P, and then Y. You set your paper scraps between you and Nick’s seats and in some unspoken agreement, he turned it into confetti.

Clearly, there was something on your coworkers mind. Nick was never this quiet. As much as he seemed like he disliked people, you just got the feeling he thrived around them. When the two of you went for a meeting with one of the company’s customers he talked nonstop. He really is charismatic, especially when he’s not so rude. The longer the silence between you two went on, devoid of even a sarcastic crack or a mumbled string of curses, the more uncomfortable it became until finally you just had to ask.

“What’s wrong?” You inquired, finally turning to focus your (E/C) eyes on the suited man beside you. He took a deep breath, set down his tools, and turned to face you. Nick’s grey eyes were watering, tears threatening to spill out. He sniffled, averting his gaze and smiling crookedly. Instinctively, you reached out and embraced him, pulling him into a hug. His composure broke and he began to cry into your shoulder, melting into the physical contact that he so desperately needed. You could faintly make out muffled apologies and explanations coming from the crying man, nothing that really made sense but you realized this was more for him than it was for you. You just let him get it all out, one hand around his back and the other cradling his head.

After a few minutes, his sobs slowed, then eventually stopped. Nick broke away from the hug, red eyed and sniffling. His true nature finally hit you: he’s a good guy, just scared to be vulnerable.

“I’m sorry.” He sniffed, your gazes still locked.

“I know you are.” You smiled gently.

“So much has happened but that doesn’t excuse being a dick. I’m so sorry.” Nick continued weakly.

“Do you want to talk more about it?” You offered.

He nodded.

“Over drinks tonight? The bar downtown?”

He nodded yet again, smiling.

With that, the two of you simultaneously turned back to your birthday party prepwork, the silence much more comfortable this time. He’s a good guy deep down, and you’re determined to meet the real him. For now, though, you were content cutting letters.

#left 4 dead 2 #left 4 dead #l4d2 #l4d2 nick #nick l4d2 #l4d2 nick x reader #office au #idk how to tag this #x reader #gender neutral reader

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dreamiesformula · 2 years

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todo es un acto - PG10 (Pierre Gasly) x Reader

Idk I had a weird bout of energy while in hospital and wrote this, if it’s shit I’m sorry blame the pain killers? Nevertheless I hope you enjoy this weird little story and if the Spanish or French is written wrong dm me what to fix and help me lol cause google translate isn’t a friend, I learnt that from year 7 Indonesian project… that I failed! Anywho have a bloody lovely day y’all and thanks for taking time to read my silly little imagines, I love you all 💙.

Warnings: mentions of weight, beauty standards & abusive exs.

Anything written like “this” will be spoken in Spanish.

______________________________

Pierre Gasly had gained himself a reputation and not a good one, the fans were turning on him, his life was in shambles and he was titled a player and not the good kind. A new girl every location, showing up hungover, risking being dropped from Alpha Tauri all because he had given up on love, his dreams and life, the stress from the world’s eyes had broken the now 26 year old. That’s when y/n got a call from her manager she was a back up dancer for international pop stars CNCO, her life was going well until rumours of her relationship with her assigned dance partner member Christopher broke. The fangirls turned on her and abandoned the couple they once shipped and it wasn’t even true, they had great chemistry… sparks even but they were best friends they put on a facade a show for the audience and they bought into it a too hard.

That’s how y/n found herself here in a Alpha Tauri office, F1 driver Pierre Gasly sat across from her and her manager, at least 5 members of his team, who she knew as his team principle cause that’s how he introduced himself and some shareholders in their business all having a meeting. “You two will stage a relationship” the girl’s manager Mary said, she’d grown up with Mary she was her other best friend she was older than her by 3 years and got the job after a few years in university. “Fuck off” the driver mutters “nah you’re kidding right” she looked at her friend fear clear in her eyes she was 21 freshly and had too heard about what he put girls through, at this point the whole world had. “He’s 5 years older than me, how is that even believable?” y/n stood up but Mary pulled her down hand in hand “it’ll save all 3 careers, You, Chris and His” she points to the Frenchman who’d now gone defensive as his team manger man speaks up “Pierre as you’re aware you are one mistake away from being dropped completely from his sport, don’t ruin what we’ve put money and hard work into for you. Y/n here will be your girlfriend, we’ve made up a story and everything. You two met last year at that Spanish Grand Prix, you’ll reunite making it officially public… cnco will perform at the Spanish Grand Prix this year, obviously you’ll dance there. We need physical affection galore, sell it or your careers are finished.” He stands up dismissing himself as I stare at the man.… Pierre, Pierre Gasly. How did this even happen?

Y/n’s p.o.v

A woman wearing a Alpha Tauri blazer speaks next “Y/n and you have a date planned for tonight at 7pm, Pierre pick her up and take her home after. There will be at least 10 paparazzi there” she smiles a sad smile at me “we have your dress picked up, Carmen will come do your makeup and hair” Mary pats my back Chris’ artist had really been flown all the way out here for this, what I thought was a getaway in Milan was fairly changing. I stand up walking away quickly calling Chris as soon as I could “they’re making me fake fate some fallen off sports star all because of our rumours” I breathlessly splurt out “aye aye, amor… breathe they’re what?” He tries to calm me down “they’re making me date a F1 driver whose gonna lose his job cause he’s a fuckboy” I scoff “hey, it’s gonna be okay amado” I start to tear up “he’s 26, he has serious issues and woman aren’t known as valuable to him. Chris this is a death sentence” I take a seat on a chair outside “look I know it’s hard, but it’ll save your career… apparently so his too. Look I’ll be here every step of the way if he tries anything I’m ending him” I chuckle Chris was my everything Mary was all I had left in my childhood. Disowned by my father after my mother died… I thought my life had been shit enough without being sold to a boy but apparently not. “I’m coming to pick you up, we arrived in Milan last night. We have a meeting with some car racing company… which makes sense now” he sighs “Chris, he’s walking over to me, I have to go… I love you” I hung up before he can speak.

“Hello, y/n was it?” He sits next to me I simply nod and he break character “look I know this isn’t ideal. You’re not my type anyways, but I really don’t want to be known as the guy I am I wasn’t always like this. Believe it or not I thought I’d found my forever clearly not…” he pauses while bitterly laughing to himself he’d obviously been through some shit “I just, I guess I’m asking although we don’t know each other… can you please help, just don’t fall for me mon amour” he smirks what the fuck this guy was seriously tryna play like a player after all I know well then “maybe, look it’s not ideal but if it saves Chris’ career then I’ll do it” I don’t bat an eyelash leaving him out that’s when I notice a few fans taking tours I snuggle into his side quickly putting his arm around me “don’t ask just play with with it” I whisper into his ear as he smiles “babe I have to go soon I have meetings” he speaks at a inside level volume as two young girls approach us “omg Pierre, hello!!” They smile widely slightly side eyeing me “ah hello, what are your names?” He stands up detaching us to give the girls attention I stand up too slightly to the side I watch as they try to take selfies “did you want me to take photos for you both?” I ask as the blonde girl turns to me “could you PLEASE?” I chuckle lightly “of course” I grab the phone and start taking photos getting good angles of everyone as the girls thank me “you’re literally the sweetest thank you!” The brown haired girl smiles “no worries at all, gotta get the good pics for Instagram babes!!” I smile and they laugh overall pretty good so far “so Pierre is this a new play thing?” The blonde snaps I freeze as I feel a hand over my waist then a head on my shoulder “no, this is my girlfriend, those days are gone” he smiles it looked genuine, it’s silent for a while “I’m so proud of you for changing for the better, it would’ve been so upsetting if I had to stop supporting you” she sighs I step in for a second “hey trust me, if he acted like a dick to me he’d be beat” I laugh and she does too “trust me malice commenters on the internet have no idea how good he is, everyone makes mistakes but he’s improving himself everyday!” I smile at the Frenchman fondly “can we all take a selfie?” The brown haired girl asks shyly “of course lovely” I smile pulling Pierre in and posing “thank you so much, we will leave you alone now!” They both smile hugging us both and walking the opposite directly “wow y/n you handled that well!” He budges my shoulder “happens to Chris all the time I’m used to it, Pierre I’ll cut to the chase. I’ll do whatever I have to for my friend I’m doing this for him, his career that he’s worked hard for, I could care less about you” with that I kiss his cheek to put on a show turn around walking to the office I knew Mary was still sat at. “I told you, for Chris I’ll do anything” with that I nod to Mary signalling to leave “it’s been lovely to meet you Fabiana I have a feeling I’ll see you soon” they smile sharing a friendly handshake before we leave “you’re committed to this already huh, just don’t fall in love with him” she snarks “trust me, he’s too much of a prick for me to wanna be with him” I laugh “now remember you attend a few dates, then in 3 weeks we fly to Spain for the Spanish Grand Prix. You’ll be offical, remember…” I cut her rant off “ appearance is everything” I roll my eyes the same line she’s told me for years. As I’m about to hit freedom I feel some hands around my waist I turn around shocked but I am met with Chris “eyyy, Christopher” I scream hugging him it had been a month or so since we’d had a rehearsal so I hadn’t seen him, “aye mami, save the screaming for later” he quirks his eyebrow as I smack his shoulder “let’s go get you ready for a hot date” he smirks “I hate you” I mutter as he walks us to a car he rented “Carmen is in the hotel lobby you are staying at the same place, let’s go” Mary demands and Chris opens the door for me laughing I get in.

Pierre’s p.o.v

Pierre stood at the door watching it unfold how friendly and touchy they were Chris, that’s who he was a tattooed up 2012 Justin Bieber knock off who spoke Spanish. He was gonna stalk socials before the date “careful staring is bad for your eyes” Pyry sneaks behind Pierre “she’s not meant to be my type” I whisper allowing myself to be vulnerable as I trusted him “Pierre buddy, your type is superficial, obedient from what I’ve heard she’s grown up around Latin women. She’s gonna fight you with her first energy, she’s not a precious model” he pats my back laughing “she’s a bit fat” I whisper “she’s healthy mate, say that shit again you’ll not have anyone left in your corner” with that he walks away I never used to be like that, what happened to the old me?

Y/n’s p.o.v

Chris takes us back to the hotel and I let him, Carmen, Richard, Erick & Mary into my room “where is Zabbie?” I ask “he went to visit his mama” I nod as Erick replies “so what? You’re just expected to fake date this random guy?” Richard asks me “yeah to save and I quote his career and break the reputation he has as well a woman using asshole, to save Chris and I too as well” I scoff “chica you didn’t tell me that… I’d rather lose everything then have you suffer through this man” Chris bursts out “no, it’s okay. We promised our dreams would come true, I now must work to keep what I promised” I smile to him sadly yes I loved him, but we had too strong of a bond to ever risk losing each other that we agreed upon in the beginning “well it’s 5 pm now let’s get you ready” Carmen ushers me to the bathroom “Dress and shoes is in there, I’ll do your hair and makeup after “You have time for a shower” she smiles and I lock the door getting ready for the longest night of my life after my shower I stare at the navy blue lace show string strapped dress in front of my a metallic silver 3 inch heels “not bad” I say as I put it on zipping it up at the back with great struggle, I walk out “what do we think?” I ask the group currently sprawled across my bed and floor “aye mami” Chris almost moans turning me red “estas caliente!” Erick says straight up making everyone laugh “thank you, thank you” I smile Richard looks like a hungry lion looking at me “now are we sure she can’t fake date me?” He winks and I remember now why I never hang out with these idiots unless I must “stop it y’all” I gush. Carmen works her magic with my hair curling it and gives me fancy makeup like proper red lip, slightly Smokey eye but with dark blues and culver accessories “I feel like a new person” I say to no one in particular “you look gorgeous” she smiles “all thanks to you” I hug her briefly.

“Time check?” I yell to the boys over pretend playing in the background “6:50 pm” I nod would he even show up? “Come dance” Chris takes my hand and we salsa around to the addictive beat playing loudly through a speaker I didn’t take notice of the boys filming us in our own little world spinning hand in hand laughing slightly, like we did when I was new to the group. Interrupted by the knocks on the door “here we go” I mumble “you got this y/n” Chris mumbles I fix my hair straightening up opening the door with a smile “hi” I say no louder than a whisper “hey” he smiles “you look…étonnante” he says in French giving me chills “ah amazing” he corrects himself I smile “you don’t look to bad yourself Gasly” I smile I open the door to grab my purse “he’s staring at your ass” Erick says a little too loudly “for real for real” Richard adds “ah Pierre come meet my friends” ushering him in with my hand “meet Richard, Erick and Christopher!” I smile pointing to each boy he shakes their hand “this is Mary, you’ve met her and this is Carmen” I watch him hug them both “well we should be off, lovely to meet you all. I am sure I’ll be seeing a lot more of you!” He smiles titling his head slightly was he being overly fake? “Don’t wait up” I smile waving to them all offering Chris a reassuring smile as Pierre takes my hand to escort me out “I drove here by the way, so I could drop you off” he looks down I couldn’t tell if this was an act or how he was it was confusing “that’s very sweet, I appreciate it Pierre” I offer him a smile lifting his head with my hand “you’re quite the gentleman” I smirk placing a hand on his forearm “I’m really trying” he sighs “keep this up we might actually pull off being a couple” I giggle as we reach the car he opens the door for me to get in closing it jumping on his side it’s awkward at first but it’s like a 5 minute drive music lowly playing Pierre humming a little nervously.

When we arrive we get seated outside on the balcony of the 4th floor of the restaurant I take in my surroundings it was so surreal, “this is so nice” I gasp this wasn’t what I was expecting we sit down being handed champagne and menus looking through I already knew I was having pasta… when in Italy right? “So tell me about yourself” Pierre breaks the silence I’m not gonna lie his voice was addictive “well that depends how much you wanna know, I’m 21… I am a professional dancer, I have no family so cnco are pretty much my bros. I dabble in song worrying and production, I really love travel and my biggest fear in losing my loved ones.” I laugh “you gotta be specific or else I’ll just say anything I think of” I shrug he looks intently into my eyes unbeknown to me mentally noting to ask when more comfortable about the past “what about you Gasly?” I smile and he replies with more than I expected “uh well, I’m 26, I drive fast cars for a living, I used to drive for red bull but go demonted after poor performance so I’m with Alpha Tauri have been for a while. I want to be world champion one day, I love fashion and I was born in Rouen in France” he lights up the awkward tension floating away “fashion, I can tell you dress incredibly well” I smile I found myself doing a lot of that he didn’t seem that bad so far he takes a sip of his drink “may I take your order?” A man asks standing at the end of our table Pierre orders first then I do “I’ll get the _________ please, sir” I smile and he nods “of course anything for a gorgeous lady like you” he comments and I shift uncomfortably, the sir wasn’t an advance it was a formality Pierre notices and grabs my hand across the table “also I think girlfriend and I will get some more champagne please sir” he bites and I giggle lightly “yes of course, right away” he scrambled away “you okay mon Ange?” He asks soft tonnes almost worried “yeah yeah, just… uncomfortable for a second, thank you for that by the way” I can’t lift my gaze as it’s stuck firmly on our interlocked hands “I have to protect my girlfriend, wouldn’t be much of a boyfriend if I didn’t” he laughs right yes the act… it’s all just an act.

Pierre’s p.o.v

Once again I found myself growing fond of this girl, she was so far left of what I aimed for in the past that it was almost right. I saw she was uncomfortable and acted before I thought, I wanted to protect her, I couldn’t become this attached to a stranger but something was pulling me to her something aside from a contract. Our food comes out and after eating we talk some more I notice she’s really cold so I stand up as her eyes follow me to beside her taking off my blazer revealing my white button up shirt placing it around her I notice slightly that there are paparazzi outside cameras pointed at us so hopefully they get good shots of me haha. “Thank you Pierre” she smiles at me while my heart rate picks up, I thought she’d be so closed off, cold but she embraced this whole act… right it was only an act.

We have dessert with very little begging required from y/n for me to cave Pyry wasn’t gonna be happy with me, I didn’t care she looked to happy right now for me to care, gorgeous and happy there was something rather wholesomely endearing about her. Sexy and cute maybe this whole fake dating wouldn’t be too bad, but how long could I let this just be an act. It was already driving me mad she just wasn’t typically what I wanted or what any other driver had. I learnt that she was passionate about her loved ones and would do anything for them, she learnt about my struggles in F1 this far we opened up that was usually a good first step. “What are you comfortable with, when we have to public ally display ourselves?” I ask her genuinely as not to overstep we were still strangers “hand holding, being clingy, playful pecks on the cheek ect” I was slightly flustered when she mentioned kisses “might I have a good luck peck prior to my races” I chuckle and she slyly nods “does that also mean when you have to attend more races, you’ll walk into the paddock by my side?” She hesitates “I’m not sure” I pause before figuring I might as well be honest “it would mean a lot to me, right now I’ve turned everyone even my own parents against me… I walk in alone and it breaks me” I feel myself tearing up I wasn’t about to cry, I was never that vulnerable or weak she stands up coming over to me throwing her legs over mine sitting facing me in what should’ve been a sexual position but she turned it tender, comforting. She places her hands on my face as she looks at me wiping under my eyes “for now I’ll be in your corner Pierre, you have me, I’ll allow that much but please don’t break me” she smiles sadly before connecting her lips briefly with mine I was taken aback but I kissed back for a short time she tried to stand but but I pull her head against my shoulder bringing her closer to me, I look down to her exposed thigh thinking about how she was so vastly different, she wasn’t a perfect stick, she had captivating curves, thicker thighs, an ass and some perky boobs. I couldn’t deny he loved looking at her “you’re incredible” I mumble “I know” she smirks “let’s be the best couple ever” she smiles playing with my hair I freeze she didn’t say fake, why didn’t she say fake? He is broken in his thought “thank you for not saying I was too heavy” she looks down to the ground behind her “what? Why would I say that?” I was confused did she hear what I said, did someone tell her what I said to Pyry? “My ex used to say it all the time, I couldn’t sit on him or cuddle or play fight or anything he said I was too fat, too heavy, weighed too much to be shown off like that” I hate myself in that moment I was so superficial she may not know I said it but oh gosh did I feel guilty, she was younger than me and I really tried to profile her something so variable as looks. “He didn’t deserve you angel” the words flowed so easily as of it was more than a sentence but a declaration, “well aren’t you a charmer mr. Gasly” she smiles her head going to the nape of my neck “let’s hope they haven’t caught us” she giggles hearing camera clicks galore “alright let’s get you home or else I’m going to take this too far” I admit no higher than a whisper I didn’t want to ruin the moment but I felt more than I should in that moment she stops lifts her head and smacks my arm playfully “cheeky” and gets off me I slightly miss the close contact it’s like I’ve been spelled. That couldn’t of been an act, no way.

Y/n’s p.o.v

He paid for us, thankfully I probably couldn’t afford a breath of air here let alone what we ate but he seemed more genuine less guarded “let’s get you home shall we” he smiles I still had his blazer on arms safely through the arm holes it smelt expensive much like he did. Comforting, attractive and very nice honestly if he kept this up I may very well fall in love, he was charming, cheeky and safe… he felt safe how could this be the man I read all those rumours about? On the drive home he rested a hand on the wheel and one on my thigh it felt weirdly cliche but also perfect, “I think most people have brought it” I smile to him telling him indirectly he could drop the act but his hand stayed “the internet will believe anything, we have to play the part well enough to convince everyone around us” he says I could tell impressing the paddock, ultimately getting his friends back, that was most important “if they don’t believe us, I’ll just make out with you in front of them” I laugh “promise” he smirks pull up at my hotel “I almost don’t wanna say goodbye” I sigh realising what I said smacking my hand I’ve my mouth “you’re not the only one” he turns to face me giving my thigh a little squeeze “I’d like to take you out again soon” the contact was intense feeling myself losing touch to reality “I’d like that you did” he lets go getting out of the car to escort me to my room. “Why don’t you come to Grand Prix this weekend? It’ll be as a spectator but maybe you’ll get a feel for what goes on to… Yaknow ah prepare for Spain?” He scratches the back of his head “I’d love to, I wanna see you in your element” hugging him before I even thought about it “what’re you doing to me y/n” he scoffs “oh I’m sorry” I back away looking hurt “no no no, I mean… I like you being near, probably too much” I was taken aback “for what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a bad guy Pierre I just think you got lost in all the fame, pressure and what not” I pat his shoulder but he bends down hugging me “you’re the first person to say that mon chéri” my heart flutters pet names “I told you, I’m in your corner mi querida” I caress his cheek as he connects our foreheads “this feels right” he mutters almost too quiet to hear “if I don’t say goodnight now I won’t leave” he chuckles standing up and walking away “aye Gasly” I call to him as he stops in place I run up to him connecting our lips “it does feel right” I smile turning around back to my room shocked at what I did but more shocked when I open my room to Christopher, Richard, Erick and Mary all watching a horror movie so I sneak up behind them phone filming in hand sneaking up to them “BOO!” I scream and they lose it I laugh so hard I could’ve peed myself. “Hello crazies, it is I the best friend y’all got back and alive from my date” I announce and they bombard me with questions which I ignore “mes tired, mes going to shower and to beds, good night my sexy people” I throw a peace sign up and strut to my bathroom.

This wasn’t just an act anymore and that was terrifying.

#f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 imagine #pierre gasly #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly oneshot #pg10

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scribbling-punk · 1 year

Text

Alternative Action - 1.

A revamped original character version that is much more juicy.

Ryan is late.

Again.

It’s only her third month at this job and her supervisor had already felt the need to warn Ryan about her punctuality several times. It’s ridiculous, she knows it is, but she just never could nail down a suitable morning routine. It’s a bad habit that she formed in college and Ryan had never quite managed to break it, no more how good her intentions always seemed to be the night before.

Ryan’s professors never truly cared about her timekeeping due to the fact that she was easily passing her classes, but she’s 24 now and out in the real world—it’s just not good enough anymore.

Thirty minutes after Ryan was supposed to be there, she bursts through the doors and offers up a million and one apologies, promising—for what feels like the hundredth time—that it won’t happen again. Her supervisor merely shakes her head, entirely unimpressed, and informs her that Miss Winters would like to speak with her as soon as possible.

She's screwed.

Completely, utterly, monumentally screwed.

There’s no chance in Hell that the CEO of the company has anything positive to say about Ryan’s recent performance.

She’s getting fired. She must be.

Ryan’s heart sinks and she contemplates just leaving there and then to spare herself the embarrassment, but her secret crush on Charlotte Winters has only grown in the last few months and she has never turned down a single opportunity to spend time with her. Perhaps Ryan can even convince her, woman to woman, to give her one last chance to prove herself.

It’s a long shot, a hail mary, but it’s gotta be worth a try.

The walk across the office is brutal, everyone staring at her and not offering even an ounce of sympathy towards the intern that hasn’t been pulling her weight. Ryan can’t blame them, but she still can’t fight off the burning shame that settles in the tips of her ears and colors her cheeks; mortified that it has come to this—that she has blown the opportunity of a lifetime for the silliest of reasons.

The elevator is, at least, blissfully empty as Ryan steps inside for the short trip upstairs and she stares at her flushed features with a click of her tongue.

“You’ve done it this time.”

Continue reading Alternative Action, an original character mdlg story, only on Patreon.

#Alternative Action #Ryan & Charlotte #original character

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shacchou · 1 year

Note

you’re safe with me

( i am secretly in love with bodyguard!kisara au. )

Despite his ever-growing popularity, Kaiba Seto wasn’t a man who could be easily approached; nor the type that one would ever see frequenting locations favored by the general public. Perhaps some still remembered the time when the young ( a teenager, back then ) and newly appointed CEO of Kaiba Corporation was a regular visitor to the local arcades, leaving behind a lasting impression in the form of unmatched scores at a vast majority of the games there. His present schedule was, however, entirely incompatible with such leisure activities. And his prominence, along with his wealth, had grown exponentially since then, making any solo outing a rare occurrence. Even at the company’s events, it was customary to see the CEO surrounded by bodyguards; his and Mokuba’s yearly security costs amounting to the not so modest sum of nearly 500 million yen.

Kaiba Corporation had a renown and rigorous training program for those that passed the initial entrance tests and background checks for all available levels of security positions. It was a known fact that the company’s President wasn’t partial to any form of outsourcing, especially not for key areas within the organization. And after Industrial Illusions’ infamous attempt at a hostile takeover, the newly restructured board of directors had concurred that strengthening the company’s internal security all the way up to the Chief Executive Officer was a high priority.

Being given the green light for an entry position in this department was an accomplishment all by itself. But being accepted into the CEO’s personal security team was much more than that; the highest rung on a significantly tall ladder that only a few could even begin to climb.

‘ You’re safe with me. ’

The words brought his current actions to a pause, the pen held between his fingers inching away from screen. A moment later, his gaze had, once again, focused on the woman who sat at the other side of the desk. Imamura Kisara. Though Seto had seen her around the company’s headquarters before, only now had she been formally introduced to him— the final interview before the contract to her promotion was signed along with a non-disclosure agreement that contained many more clauses than those signed by employees from other departments. Once said documents were signed, her one-month trial period would begin. This was, admittedly, a rare occasion. He could count the number of women who had been part of his personal security staff —bodyguards, in particular— on the fingers of one hand; with few ever applying for the position. She was backed up by several recommendations that commended her performance and experience, including that from Higuchi Touma, the head of his security team, who insisted that she was a perfect fit for the job. The CEO had also perused her file; finding nothing to doubt what he had heard of her, but instead the notes of her outstanding results at the training program and her consistently impressive performance at every position she had so far occupied within the company.

A sound akin to a ‘hmph’ left the chairman’s lips, his back then pressing against the back of his seat. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Isono stiffening slightly— perhaps already predicting his employer’s next words.

❛ I dislike gratuitous words, especially those spoken with the sole intent to please. ❜ The CEO, after all, valued actions over words; even more so when it came to his employees. ❛ You’d be wrong to allow this promotion to go to your head. Many have been dismissed before their trial periods even ended after proving that their competence couldn’t match their overconfidence. ❜ He neither expected nor waited for an answer before he brought the pen back to the screen, signing all the necessary documents like she had done moments prior. Once done, he passed the tablet to Isono; the action itself signaling that this meeting was over.

He needn’t explain more to her. Higuchi had already given her her schedule and all relevant information. He had an upcoming business trip to Shanghai and would board one of his private jets in four hours, and she was part of the group of bodyguards that would go with him. Considering he had a month to evaluate whether she was truly suitable for this position or not, it was only proper that he started now. // @aoiinome

#aoiinome #❛ ♔// ic; [ 社長 ]#/ i hope this is okay!#i'm already loving this au ^^

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twoidiotwriters1 · 2 years

Text

Copycat: Agent Zero —(Marvel Fem!Oc)

A/N: I can't believe we won't have another Spider-man movie in years 😭 -Danny

Words: 1,138

Phase Four Masterlist

Previous chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘Bottles’ -by Little Image

viii: There Is No "I" In Team

When they handed him the Stark glasses, Peter got very quiet.

"'Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown'," Fury looked at him. "Stark said you wouldn't get that because it's not a Star Wars reference," he then looked at Cat, "on the other hand, you'd be able to quote the whole thing and even tell us who wrote it."

"King Henry fourth, Shakespeare," Cat smiled a little. "I wouldn't be able to quote it, it's too long."

She looked at Peter, but he was too lost in his own thoughts, looking down at Tony's gift.

"We could've used someone like you on my world."

"Thanks," Peter smiled. "I'm sorry, your world?"

"Mr. Beck is from Earth, just not yours," Fury clarified.

"Ours," Cat corrected. Hill nudged her side. "What? If he's not careful Peter could see right through him!" She retorted under her breath.

"Peter didn't know Fury," Soren whispered. "He can't tell the difference, but he might if you keep trying to correct us!"

In front of them Peter let out a shocked response to Quentin's speech:

"You're saying there's a multiverse? Because I thought that was just theoretical— I mean that completely changes how we understand the initial singularity, we're talking about an internal inflation system— and how does that even work with all the quantum— It's insane!"

The teenager looked at Fury, Hill, and Cat. The first two were staring at him weirdly, but Cat understood then why he'd be useful, somehow the fact that she'd grown without him had made her forget that he was a real genius.

"Sorry," Peter said bashfully, "it's really cool."

"It's also a problem," Cat pointed out.

"Right," the boy nodded, "you're right— Sorry."

"Don't ever apologize for being the smartest one in the room," Quentin said politely.

"Ouch," Cat pouted mockingly.

"Anyway..."

Hill projected a thing in the middle of the room and Quentin began to explain the origin of the creatures they were fighting, he called them Elementals. Cat's phone began to buzz and she answered, she'd already heard that story.

"Hello?" She spoke quietly.

"I just heard the news," Matt said. "You okay?"

"I don't remember giving you my number," she replied.

"I got it when you applied for a job at my office."

"Is this legal?"

"Cat."

"How did you know I was the one from the news? People are calling us Mysterio and shadow girl, which is worse than Black Cat..."

"They said you were out there fighting the monster with a red mist— I thought Fury didn't want you to go public?"

"They don't want to associate me with the Avengers, it's different. I got a dirty record, and I can't blame it on a german lab brainwashing me to be evil..."

"Are you okay?"

"That's none of your business. Don't call me."

She was about to hang when Matthew added in a rush:

"You said your brother always called. I just... I didn't want you to feel alone."

Cat was taken by surprise, she wasn't expecting him to remember that. "Why?"

"You wanted us to be friends. This is me being one."

"Right," she said dryly. "I did say that."

"So?"

"I'm alright. Don't lose sleep over my situation, okay?"

"Is that an order?"

She let out a short laugh. "Like you would take one from me."

"Smart kitty."

Cat suppressed a groan. "Have a good night."

The young woman hung up the phone, she returned when Quentin finished his sob story. It didn't sit right with her. How come they'd been able to destroy one when it'd taken a whole army to fight them on his Earth?

Beck claimed that he wasn't expecting to survive his first encounter at all, but alas, there he was. Were his powers different now that he'd gone through the multiversal rift? Perhaps the Elementals had gotten weaker...

Peter spoke up suddenly, he didn't want to risk his identity and it seemed that his classmates were rather close to figuring things out. Cat didn't want him around if she was honest. She thought he'd be a distraction.

"Okay, I understand," Fury said at last.

"I'm sorry, what?" Peter glanced at her, and he noticed Cat was as confused as him.

"Get back before your teachers miss you and become suspicious. Dimitri! Take him back to the hotel, please."

"Thank you, Mr. Fury," Peter looked around, "and uh... good luck."

He stopped a moment in front of Quentin, the man shook his hand. "See ya, kid."

"Yeah, see ya."

Cat took a step forward to walk him out but Fury stopped her.

"You stay."

The girl returned to her spot and looked at him with annoyance. What were they playing at? They wanted Peter, and even if she didn't want to, she could still try and convince him like she'd convinced Tony. She was getting tired of the cat-and-mouse interactions, if they wanted to get things done why not do them at once?

"As you wish, sir," Cat replied, sounding a little frustrated.

"This is ridiculous," The agent huffed as she changed Peter's schedule. "Ten years, that's how long I've been training to be an agent... and you decide to waste me!"

"We need his help," Quentin told her, "kid's a genius, we need his brains."

"You know I can copy him from top to bottom, right?"

"It wouldn't be the same," the man insisted, "even if you did, you'd still be you pretending to be him. I don't think it's just the brains, I don't think it's something you can copy."

"When I met him he was thin and short," she grumbled, "now he's just short but he's the same old Peter, I don't think is that much of a loss if he doesn't help..."

"You're too young to understand," Quentin patted her shoulder with a patronizing way, "I'm an experienced soldier, I know what I'm talking about when I say Peter's what we need."

Cat pushed her chair back and looked up at him. "I could snap your neck in half without even blinking. I could turn you from the inside out and wouldn't even gawk at the mess. Don't tell me you know better. You don't know me."

Quentin raised his eyebrows in surprise, but he wasn't upset. "Trust me, the last thing I wanna do is fight with a valuable teammate. I'm sorry, but..."

"But what?" She finished the reservations and stood up without looking at him.

"Fury told me you and that boy have history—"

"What's your point?"

"It's been a year since you last spoke, right? That can change a lot of things— your whole world got altered in just one day! Maybe Peter's more ready than you think."

A year ago Cat still had a family, but the anniversary of their death was around the corner and now she was a S.H.I.E.L.D agent with no aspirations in life.

C.C.'s worst nightmare had turned into Cat's wish. It was weird, what time and circumstance could do to someone, but it made her realize Quentin was right. She'd talked to Tony because people like Peter deserved a second chance to prove their worth.

Cat no longer knew her place in the world but still knew Peter's.

Next Chapter—>

Taglist.

@ieatpanicattacksforlunch @jesuswasnotawhiteman @siriuslysirius1107 @greengarsstuff @itsyagirl01 @23victoria @espressopatronum454 @jkthinkstoomuch

#twoidiots writing #marvel #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction #copycat fic

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labellerose-acheron · 2 years

Text

Counting the Cost *** [Helle]

In which Hades and Belle make the decision to go to war...[takes place: late May 2022]

@trip-downtheriverstyx

[cw -- discussion and thoughts of violence/murder/order of the prince atrocities]

HADES: Almost one year ago exactly, Hades and Belle had faced the Order for what Hades knew wouldn’t be the last time.

Things had been quiet enough that the threat had faded to the back of his mind, though. Hades had a busy enough life– and afterlife– as it was, yeah, between his mayorship, his bookstore, his kids, and the ghosts that were never far. Still, he hadn’t been stupid enough to get comfortable. It was always just a matter of time .

And now, a young boy was dead.

Hades hadn’t known him well at all but the news had still come as a shock, a blow– Hades briefly speechless as he replayed the meeting with John, Thomas, and Phillip over in his head. He scoured that memory for something that he missed. Maybe he had grown more complacent than he realized. Maybe he had underestimated the Order. Maybe– maybe he had done too much waiting, and forgotten about his true destiny. Before he was ever mayor, he had been born something far greater.

Wasn’t it his job to bring balance? To ensure the dead stayed dead, and the living remained safe? How could he have ushered Eric into the afterlife when it was so clearly not his time to go?

There could be no more waiting. With the blood of Eric on his hands, the ambassador was certain: the Order’s reckoning was here.

But the ambassador needed to talk to his wife first.

When the news had been announced, it was late afternoon. Hades had canceled all of his remaining meetings and gone home at once, texting Belle that he needed– they needed– to talk. He left Lou out of it, for now. He would bring him in after they decided, exactly, what should be done.

Though Hades really knew what should be done.

He needed to kill them all.

He arrived at their office first and when Belle slipped in, he rose from his chair to cross the room and embrace her. “God, I’m so sorry.” The words fell from his lips– Hades never one to apologize easily but this time, this time, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Eric’s life had been in his hands, and he’d thrown it away.

BELLE: The news hadn’t surprised Belle. It had come to her through the grapevine of gossip at InterPride. Several of her coworkers had children at PrideU. There were also interns and graduates who worked in her department as paralegals. The whispers had started. Belle had sat at her desk, unsure what to do, knowing more than anyone else around her who kept theorizing--car accident? Freak accident?

Belle knew the truth, but she couldn’t say it. The feeling was awful and kept her frozen at her desk, unable to do any work. Sweat had dripped down the back of her neck, sending shivers down her spine.

And then the text message from Hades came.

It was enough to jolt her from her anxious chrysalis. She scrambled to her superior’s office, wasn’t even sure what excuse she made, but the look on her face was enough for the woman to send her along. Belle stopped by the daycare to pick up the twins and then, she did something she rarely did: called a car.

Which meant she was right behind Hades getting home. She left the children with Toulouse and went to the office, knowing that was where Hades would be. It was where she wanted to be too.

Belle hadn’t been expecting the hug, but she was glad for it, realizing she needed it too. She pressed her face against his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly for a moment. Her shoulders relaxed and she took a deep breath before pulling back--but not away, not yet. She looked up at Hades’ face with a frown. His own expression was serious and she could see the shadow of guilt there. (Maybe because she felt it too.)

Her hand reached up to touch his cheek, her fingers brushing some of his hair back behind his ear. “Why are you sorry? This isn’t your fault.” And even though Belle felt guilt and regret, she also knew that this was true. It was the Order. That was who had done this.

HADES: No, it wasn’t his fault.

But it didn’t feel that way.

Hades rarely struggled with something like this. He considered his mental strength one of his best assets. He knew how to put guilt aside, or organize his feelings separate from the facts. Over time, he’d learned how these things could be a detriment to his relationships. But never to his jobs– which meant being mayor and, yes, being the ambassador.

But the line was blurry to him now. His feelings roiled, loud, angry, and sad all at once. It was because he was connected to the other world. He knew, knew by the mettle of his own bones, that Eric was not supposed to die. This had not been written by the Fates. Something had gone wrong.

He should have seen it. He should have stopped Eric when he first volunteered, instead of looking at the entire issue like a game of chess. Eric was no pawn to be sacrified; he’d been a boy. An adult, technically, yes, but– barely.

His sacrifice was easily avoidable.

But now Hades had to put all that aside like he knew how to do… and if he couldn’t, he had to use it as fuel. Hades hoped that Belle would be on the same page here. Launching an all-out war on a secret cult organization was not something to do alone.

He sighed now. “Because it feels like it. Because– we should have taken care of the Order a long time ago.”

Hades should have taken care of the Order after Phoebus.

He should have taken care of the Order after they kidnapped Claude.

After John, Phillip, and Thomas had attacked them the first time.

“We can’t wait anymore,” he told Belle, his gaze lingering on hers. “I can’t wait anymore.”

BELLE: We should have taken care of the Order a long time ago.

Belle knew what Hades meant by this. She knew he meant proper vengeance. The kind that novels about war always warned about. The kind that meant graves and ruined families.

Was it ever necessary?

There was a part of Belle that whispered: yes. That wanted her revenge. The Order had taken so much from her. Her sense of safety. Her friend. They had turned Lou into a werewolf. They had told Merida she wasn’t worth anything. They had stolen babies and attacked her home. She had tried to show them mercy. She could have let Hades kill Phoebus right there on the altar of the cathedral. She could have let him and Merida kill John, Phil, and Tom.

She felt as if she had fallen to her knees, multiple times, begging for it all to stop. Sending messages of truce and forgiveness. Belle did not want her husband becoming the monster that the Order thought he was. That most of the world thought he was.

They had ignored her warnings. That was what her mercy was, wasn’t it? We could have killed them, but we didn’t. We could have been like you, but we aren’t.

Yet, the Order had not cared. They kept taking from them, hurting them. They were the monsters with ceaseless appetites.

Belle pulled away from Hades, moving further into the room. Her brow was furrowed in thought as she paced slow, but agitated, across the floor.

“I-I don’t know, Hades. You are—talking about an entire network of people. This isn’t Yubaba. This isn’t Urania. It isn’t even the Blackwells.” She stopped pacing and turned to look at him, her hands fisted in the fabric of the skirt at her hips. Her eyes searched his from across the room.

“These are people’s lives. People’s families. Merida’s family. If we—what would make us any better than them?”

HADES: “It’s not an equal comparison,” said Hades swiftly, and he crossed back to her, to close the gap she’d created while pacing the room.

“It’s about the scales,” he told her. The scales of the Underworld was what he was referring to. Hades was no god (despite his mum’s rather creative naming there); he did not control the hands of fate, nor decide who lived or who died. But he was one of Fate’s many weapons. Because of that, he understood the scales and what they meant more than most mortals, especially after spending nine months down in the Underworld, which might as well have been nine hundred years.

If the Order faced the scale at this point, the stones would outweigh the gold– several lifetimes of pain and suffering and interference with Fate because of their own selfish beliefs and quest for power. Hades knew this as if he were standing with the scales in his hands right now.

Did Hades just let the Order continue on, until the scale broke? Until there could be no correction?

That’s what he’d done, and he’d done it, in part, for Belle.

But there could be no more excuses made on behalf of the Order. No matter how many of them were pawns like Tom, Phillip, and John, or victims like Merida and Elinor.

“We have shown them mercy countless times and all they do is hit back stronger and take more lives,” he told her. “If you’re talking about unethical decisions, then they’ve wracked up far greater a tally than us. This is about tipping the scales back. If we don’t do it now– then we’ll be back here, Belle, in six months, having the same damn conversation. I won’t have it again.”

He needed Belle to realize. Because– he’d end it with her support or not.

But he’d like his wife’s support. He’d like to stand together on this, as they stood together on everything else.

BELLE: The scales.

Belle had not forgotten about the scales. She had stood in front of them herself once. Watched her life be weighed—gold and stone. She had been so young then, so much had happened since. It made her wonder where the scales would fall when it came to her when she faced them again.

But they were not talking about her (would this decision weigh for or against her?)—they were talking about the Order. Hades was talking about Fate. The balance of the world.

It was impossible to forget Hades’ power completely, the ghosts were ever present in their home. They had a routine now for the twins because of the piece of that power they inherited. Hades was always warm with it. It made their lives easier and more difficult—colorful and complicated.

But sometimes, when they went about their life: the shoppe, the town, their careers and family, it was easy to put it away in a drawer. To forget what the ghosts and the fire and the telekinesis really meant. Hades was not just a medium. Nor was he a pyrokinetic or a telekinetic. He sensed death before it arrived. He stood at the axis of the world.

Belle looked at him now and knew that this was true and still, she wanted to stand stubbornly in his way. It was difficult, because it was usually Belle who reminded him of his duty. Who urged him to do what needed to be done and now—

She wanted to fight against it because she worried about what it meant for her own soul. What it meant for his. They had made wrong decisions before when it came to playing with Fate.

“I know you’re right,” she finally said, rubbing her own arms before she dropped her hands down, curling her fingers into fists. “I just—do not like having our hand forced.” Because it was their hand, stretching out as one.

She moved to the couch and plopped down on it, arms crossed over her chest. She looked up at Hades, brows furrowed.

“I don’t want them to keep terrorizing anyone either, but how do we end it? They’re an entire organization of families. Of generations of people. There are children involved. And abused women who have been cowed their entire lives. How do we separate those who deserve punishment from those who are caught up in it by circumstance?”

HADES: Hades saw this in a completely different light than Belle. Or at least– he saw the pieces that had led her in a different order. Yes, their hand was forced, but it was not because of the Order themselves. Technically, if Belle stepped back, she’d see that this particular fight did not belong to them. They had not gone after the Acherons. They went after one of their own. There was a mutiny happening inside, the Order diseased, its own children rejecting it. And it was trying to wrest control of all that, by chopping off its own limbs. Maybe they could wait. Maybe they could do nothing. Maybe the Order would fall on its own sword, this go around.

Or maybe it would regenerate, get stronger, and then come for his family.

The point there was – it was not the Order forcing their hand, it was Hades and Belle who had forced their own hand a long time ago. By choosing not to take proper measures in the past, to pick mercy when mercy was not warranted, they’d let the Order get away with their cruelty. They were in a position to kill Eric Anderson, when Eric Anderson had already defected, and got away.

And so Hades couldn’t trust a passive strategy, not anymore. They’d end it. It was simple. Belle would like to make it complicated because her brain saw the world in all its minute shades. And yes, some of the people in the Order were victims. But they were also perpetuators. They were also complicit. They had been given chances– like Merida, like Eric, like John, Phillip, and Tom. But they remained in the Order’s shadow.

“I don’t believe there are as many caught up as you think,” Hades told her outright. “The children, yes, there is opportunity for reform there. We can leave them to the RAS to sort out.” Hades, after all, wasn’t a bloody counselor. He was a fucking reaper. “But the adults– they’ve had time. If Eric and Merida and their Golden Trio can see the light, then what is stopping any of the rest, eh? Even Merida’s mother had good sense to defect. She saw the writing on the wall– it’s been there for ages. This is an antiquated terrorist organization that is refusing to change, Belle. The only way to stop it is to wipe it clean off the planet.”

BELLE: “I just don’t want to make a rash decision. I don’t want to act in revenge. Or retaliation.”

Maybe those things would feel better. She certainly had enough anger for it. It would feel good, she thought, to bring the Order to its knees. To protect those who otherwise would suffer at their hand. But that concept was hard to grasp. Belle’s anger had always been slippery as smoke and the Order was not standing on their doorstep. Sure, they hovered in the shadows. They made Belle paranoid and filled her head with nightmares, but she wasn’t looking the enemy in the face.

“I worry about what it means. The Order cannot continue. I know that.” Of course she did. They had kidnapped her, held a gun to her head—sometimes, when she closed her eyes, she could still feel the cold metal of the muzzle on her temple. They had attacked her home, her friends, her family. They had wounded Toulouse and Merida and stolen children from their beds.

“But—“ She wanted, so badly, for there to be another clause after that. Some fine print that she was missing. She wanted the time to roll their options over and over in her mind, until they were smooth as stone. Until she had looked over the chess board from every angle, playing out every move in her head.

She sighed and rubbed at her forehead. Looking at Hades, she wished she could siphon some of his confidence for herself. He was unwavering. Whether it was his magic or his conviction—Belle wasn’t sure and she supposed it didn’t matter. He believed that this was the only option forward.

And after a few moments of silence between them. Hades patient, but burning with surety, Belle gave up. Defeated. There was no time to think about every possible outcome. A boy was dead. More would die.

Now was the moment that they chose who that would be: the Order or themselves.

There could be no more mercy. No bargaining or reasoning. Only destruction.

“How do we do it?” Belle finally said, her face still crumpled with worry but her voice was smooth. Not confident, but determined nonetheless.

HADES: It was revenge. It was retaliation.

It was also many other things– justice, for one. Maybe Belle did not believe that was possible– that revenge and justice could sit on the same side of the table. But revenge could be a form of justice. And it was necessary now, no matter the price– Hades was prepared to pay for it, damned his own soul.

Though he was not worried about his soul. He had never abused his power before this moment, and the lives he had taken had thus far been out of self-preservation. In a way, this would be similar. He was thinking of the future of his family. He was thinking of his young sons, already mediums– their power would only grow. And thus, they’d become targets for the Order and they’d be used against Hades as well. Acting out of love for his family, this would not be the thing that damned him.

He could explain this to Belle and she would probably still not agree. But to his surprise, he watched in real time as whatever resistance she had drained out of her.

And Hades frowned– even if this was what he knew was right, he knew it was hard on her. She would carry guilt, perhaps for the rest of her life.

He’d do what he could to carry all of it though. If he could.

Hades crossed over to her and sank down onto his knee, grasping her hand in his as he looked up at her.

“Not we. Me,” he told her, looking resolutely into her eyes. “ I will talk to John, Tom and Phillip and– and together, we’ll come up with a plan. Go to the headquarters and crush their kingdom there.”

Then they’d not have some place to organize. And he’d burn whatever was left after to the ground, so they could never go back.

BELLE: Hades knelt in front of her. Took her hand. And for just a moment, Belle wasn’t thinking about the gravity of their decision. She was thinking about a much happier promise.

It made her smile, just a little, and as soon as the memory flickered through her mind’s eye, the runes on their arms began to glow softly.

Hades was serious now, but his eyes still burned the same, brilliant blue. He looked just as determined, just as certain. And while Belle still wavered, it made her feel steadier. She knew, after all, that he was doing this to protect their children and Toulouse. To protect her and this life that they had built together, one stone at a time.

Belle wanted to do that too. She wanted to protect their family, their home, and Hades. But she knew that she could not do that in the way that Hades could now. She did not have his power. Nor his confidence that this was the correct course of action. That wasn’t needed anyway. Hades’ strength would be enough. Belle’s place would be different. She would protect Hades’ heart. Make sure it did not harden too much from all this. She could support him. They would still be a united front. Impenetrable. Deadly.

She leaned forward and framed his face with her hands. Her lips pressed cool against his forehead.

“We,” she told him firmly when she pulled away, still holding his face gently. Her expression was serious, but the lines of her face soft as she regarded him. “I won’t go with you, but we will do this together. I will be there to help you plan. To find any blindspots, to make sure you come home safe to me. Agreed?”

HADES: Of course, that’s what Hades had meant.

Semantics, eh?

But his lip twitched upward and then he smiled, the easy kind that only ever came when he was around his family. He practiced smiles for the rest of the world: for town hall, for the board, for the civilian who didn’t understand the true depth of Hades’s power, and would never understand the burden that came with it. He was doing this for those civilians too, really. Because if he didn’t, Swynlake would continue to suffer. The rot would reach its roots. It was Hades’s job, not just as the ambassador, but as the mayor, to burn such rot out.

But Belle was right– and he knew she was right, he never really doubted– that he wouldn’t take on that burden fully alone. He might be the executioner, but he had a team working beside him.

More importantly, he had a team to come home too.

He half-stood if only so he could press forward and kiss Belle gently, quickly, a kiss like a seal. They’d made many deals between the two of them; here was another. The runes on their arms continued to glow with a comforting, warm light, reassuring them both this was the right decision.

“Thank you,” he said. He finished standing, then pulled Belle up. His thumb gently glided over her knuckles. “We can handle the planning after dinner though, don’t you think? Dinner first.”

Dinner first. Family first. This had become Hades’s pledge.

#swynhades #helle #counting the cost #otp: a person. in my life.#otp: you matter more to me than me #otp: we deserve each other #otp: what's mine is yours #otp: i will always save you #otp: we will do it together #yeah sneaking another otp tag in there #it feels deserved #this was a great para #really highlights why helle is so good

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tteokdoroki · 3 years

Text

had it | k.bakugou.

♡ pairing: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 4.5K

♡ rating: everyone.

♡ genre: pro hero!au, married!au, fluff, comfort.

♡ summary: your pro hero husband is a show off, always has and always will be... but when his big ego gets in the way of you doing your job, you give him little piece of your mind..

♡ warning(s): please read ! mentions of violence, i gave reader a quirk?? bakugou with a daughter ok literally nothing. oh and angst if you squint.

♡ author’s note(s): hi besties!! happy birthday to meee!! today i’m dropping a fic that’s been a long time coming, its a short and fluffy little piece with domestic baku bc i love him with babies n kids ok ok!! i hope you all have a lovely day <3

♡ masterlist | requests | kofi

some say that working for a pro hero is an honour, no matter what the position is. some may work behind the scenes— creating gear and suits that support the pros protecting their cities or livelihoods. others are in charge of things like reports, PR and even physical health. everyone plays an important role in a hero's career. there’s never a dull moment working in a team supporting the pros, especially if that pro was dynamight.

the offices for katsuki bakugou’s hero agency were always buzzing; usually because the clean up team were rushing through with stacks upon stacks of receipts and paperwork from the damage done during bakugou’s patrols— other times it would be his secretaries gossiping about how good he looks in his winter costume because damn did that tight black shirt do his arms justice but usually it was just because of the PR team contacting media outlets with excuses for bakugou’s potty mouth.

working for the hot headed blonde was more laid back than it seemed however, the man himself was rarely ever in the office as the number two hero but out on missions instead, the pay was pretty decent and no one ever really faced his angry wrath nor his sailor like mouth unless they had royally fucked up on their job. katsuki bakugou was someone to admire, he never gave a damn about what people had to say about him— he only cared about getting the job done and maybe that’s why most people enjoyed their time under the dynamight agency.

particularly this time, right around noon.

the doors to the floor of the secretary offices fly open, crashing loudly against the walls and drawing the staff from their daily work. this office space is around ten floors up and somehow you’ve made it in record time today. “where is he?” your voice crawls through the entrance of the room, settling over the workers like a thick fog— commanding, menacing and soft all at the same time. newbies cower in their boots, confused at what’s going on and it’s safe to presume those who have been working here for years have yet to give them the run down. “don’t make me ask again.” you add, eyes darkening as you cast your gaze across the room.

an intern approaches you, visibly shaking with fear which makes you loosen your stance and raise an eyebrow toward them. “he-uh... he just went for his lunch break—“ the stutter, gulping under the stare of another highly ranked pro hero. “in his...office— ma’am!” they stumble through their words, hiding behind the ungodly amount of paperwork that's been dumped into their hands. you make a mental note to chew bakugou out on the load his interns have been getting as well as your prior reasons for coming to his agency.

nonetheless you shake your head and drop the frown, a sweet smile quickly replacing the look that could put anyone six feet under if you really tried. with a tap to the side of your head, the visor to your hero costume rises above your eyes— allowing you to give the poor little intern a cheeky wink as thanks. “‘ppreciate it darling, have a good one!” you thank them properly with a ruffle to their hair, resuming your previous stance as you march the rest of the way through the office and kick open the door at the end of the room.

the intern sags, a whimper of relief passing from tired lips while they wipe at the sweat forming on their brow. they’d not even encountered their boss yet and they’d already come face to face with a top pro hero. “w-what’s her deal?”

a chuckle to the left of the poor kid startles them out of their mind; but they relax upon realising it’s just another one of dynamight’s secretaries— haruto, who’d apparently been working at the agency since it started up. “that’s nightsky, her quirk is lullaby, which allows her to control certain people if she hits the right note. she can also put them to sleep, if she really wants to,” the intern now perks up, remembering you from countless interviews on tv. you ranked pretty highly too, managing to the reach the top five this year along with others like shoto and deku. “she owns the hero agency across the street, herself and dynamight have been going at it ever since. it’s like they’re elderly lovers or somethin‘.”

“d-do you think they are? lovers like you say?” the intern asks a little too excitedly, touching at their messy hair from where you’d ruffled it. a crimson blush warms their cheeks, the idea of two pros playing enemies to the public eye but being lovers in secret seemed like something right out of a romance novel. how romantic.

haruto only chuckles at the newbie, standing to ruffle their hair as well before heading over to the coffee stand to fix himself a cup. “beats me,” he mumbles cheerily as he walks away, arms crossed behind his head. “but with the way yn bursts in here at the same time everyday to scold bakugou, and leaves with a huge smile on her face— i wouldn’t put it past them. they probably have a whole life together.” he taps his nose once as if he’s given away too much information, turning away without a word.

the intern hums, seemingly happy with their superior’s answer and easily heads back to work from there.

katsuki bakugou was bored out of his mind.

being a successful pro hero was all he’d ever wanted— being the number two pro hero just came with that. bakugou wanted to get to the top and show everyone he was the best of the best and with him being blessed with a powerful quirk there was no way he couldn’t be where he was today. yet, now that he’d finally achieved his dream all he wanted was a fucking break. the blonde stares down at his microwaveable bowl of home cooked stew, a frown cutting deep into his cheeks. it was his lunch break for crying out loud, but instead of scarfing down the delicious meal before him, the hero was forced to watch it cool as some dumb fuck reporter asked him questions over the phone.

the telephone interview ( or a waste of his fucking time, as katsuki had called it ) , had been set up by his PR team right after he’d taken down a couple low level villains downtown earlier this morning. katsuki had called it nothing but apparently the whole world and their mother had been on his ass, watching as he took the criminals down with ease and raving about how glorious dynamight was during that fight. the reporter drones on about said event, asking the same old questions and it takes everything within the hot headed pro not to blow a casket— he’d been promised a few extra days off from his manager if he could finish the interview without blowing something up and only god knew how much katsuki needed a break from dumb paps and some overly obsessive fans.

‘so, final question, how does it feel to be the number two?’

bakugou grunts, buying himself time to formulate an answer. what he really wants to do is kindly tell the reporter to fuck off and ask more original questions; but with the prize of a longer weekend hanging in the balance he bites his tongue for the sake of freedom. “well i—“

“katsuki bakugou.” your voice cuts through his sentence before he can finish, vermillion eyes land on your hero costume clad form as you burst into his office. a lazy smirk now decorates the hero’s lips, brow quirked with piqued interest. “i have a bone to pick with you, you motherfucker.”

the reporter on the other end falls silent as katsuki watches you, leaning back in his plush leather chair. you look slightly disheveled, costume torn in a few places, scrapes littering your skin as you pant heavily from exertion— chest rising and falling with every breath, it seems ragged and bakugou makes a mental note to remind you to get your ribs checked out later. “you’re late, shitty woman.” the number two sits up a little straighter as you enter the room, leaning up to look at you while you slam your hands down on the smooth marble desk— the force rattling the items he has neatly placed on it.

‘uh-? mister...dynamight-? sir?’

your eyes sweep the room while the pro before you deals with the reporter, mentioning to her that they’ll have to continue their call later. in the meantime, you note that katsuki’s office is meticulously clean, not a single book, folder or pen out of place— it’s high up with a perfect view of the city and the large windows allow golden beams of the sun to light up the room. the sound of a phone being placed back on its hook brings you from your thoughts; annoyance settling deep in your veins as you turn to face bakugou again.

“i had it,” you growl lowly, jumping the gun before he can even register what you’ve said. “i’m a grown woman, katsuki, i can handle a couple of criminals myself, you know.”

the blasting hero does nothing but smirk even wider at the irked tone that litters your voice, standing up as well to tower over you. bakugou still wears his own hero costume, considerably in less damage than yours— not a single tear had formed in his suit, mind the small scratches on his face no doubt from his stupid explosions creating some debris. leaning over the desk between you, bakugou uses a forefinger and thumb to tilt your head up, bringing you even closer than before. “clearly y’didn’t sweetheart, or otherwise that icyhot bastard wouldn’t have needed to back you up ‘fore i got there...” his timbre voice sends sparks of electricity through the air in the room, it’s low and gravelly which is enough to send shivers down your spine but you’re not about to let katsuki bakugou know that he makes you flustered— it’d go straight to his head, the cocky bastard.

nonetheless; you roll your eyes at the mention of your old classmate and fellow pro hero— shoto todoroki. yourself and shoto got along fairly well, even back in high school, so it was normal for you to work together from time to time; you both made a great team and your skill set complimented each other’s well. katsuki was just jealous. he never really got along with todoroki like that. “he didn’t back me up, we were working together,” you snap back at the blonde, shaking yourself from bakugou’s grasp and flicking him right between those alluring vermillion eyes. “something you might not be familiar with, mister number two.” bakugou backs away from you completely ( only wincing slightly ), making you smirk in victory. you’ve struck a nerve. deciding to leave the conversation at that, you turn to make your exit as he collapses back into his seat with a deathly scowl and a quiet ‘tch’. “like i said, i had it, dynamight. next time, don’t jump in uninvited.”

happy that you got the last laugh, you open the door to leave his office but pause when a wave of heat hits your back. you should have known, katsuki bakugou was never one to back down from a challenge and you certainly weren’t an exception. well shit. when you turn around to face the blonde, small explosions spark from his right hand and he has some what of a look of a feral pomeranian, blood red eyes full of rage.

you visibly gulp and katsuki growls out his next words with the upmost venom, designed to hurt and cut at your feelings. “well maybe y’sudda let the actual pros handle shit like this,” bakugou begins, voice rising in volume with every syllable that passes his lips. “we both know you’re no good at short distance attacks with your quirk, shitty woman, you couldn’t have taken those villains down without me.” the blonde finishes with a short ‘tsk’, settling the explosions that spark in his palms. now it’s your turn to be pissed. you could handle katsuki’s jealousy, his petty reasoning for joining you on your patrol and taking the credit but bashing you and your quirk? no way in hell would he get away with that.

“bakugou?”

“what? the fuck y’still here for?”

you roll your shoulders, gracing the blonde with a devilish smile as your eyes light up mischievously. “why are you hitting yourself, bakugou?” you sing, hitting just the right notes that will have him under your spell, the tone in your voice as smooth as chocolate. katsuki’s eyes widen in horror and before he can stop himself, his free hand comes up to slap him across the face. that was your quirk, lullaby. you had the ability to sing your way out of any situation— adjusting the tune of your song to control the actions of certain individuals or groups of people. it was near impossible to resist but the more people you used your quirk on, the weaker your control over them was. that doesn’t mean you weren’t going to use it on bakugou from time to time. the blonde tries to fight it, he really does, but he’s no use up against your ability— losing all control of his own body. he grunts on impact, looking bewildered for a moment as he moves to grab his own wrist to stop any impending blows. “not so cocky now, are we dynamight?”

“h-hey!” he stammers, refusing to accept defeat against you. “shitty woman, no fuckin’ fair. you know i can’t use my quirk against you in here.” he was right, while your quirk was poor against short distance attacks ( meaning you had to result to hand to hand combat ), bakugou couldn’t use his own in enclosed spaces without hurting anyone he didn’t want to. especially you, he would never hurt you intentionally unless you were sparring.

“shoulda thought about that before you decided to taunt me, you know better than to piss off your wife, katsu.” you chide, still smiling just as brightly as you were earlier, before taking a seat on his desk and folding one leg over the other. it was quite amusing to watch your husband of four years fight against himself— everyone knew katsuki had an unbelievable amount of strength even without his quirk so he was definitely beating himself up ( literally and figuratively ).

bakugou looks up at you through gritted teeth while he struggles to keep the wrist you have control of down and you almost feel bad for the guy. “turn it off, dammit!” he curses at you, said hand rising above his free one to tug at his own sun kissed locks.

feigning interest in the objects on your lover's desk, you ignore his pleas for you to release him from the holds of your quirk and hum “apologise.”

“f-fuck... fuck y-you.”

you sigh knowingly, picking up a hand crafted paperweight, covered in glitter and sequin stars, inspecting it carefully. bakugou could hardly ever say the word ‘sorry’, it was just in his nature and he’d been that way since you were young. part of you knows it’s because of how he was treated as a child where people praised him for his quirk. that meant he became prideful yes, thought highly of himself too and struggled to admit when others were right...but he had his own way of apologising— through actions instead of words.

like when you first moved in together and he had broken your favourite mug, instead of saying he was sorry, he spent all night super glueing it back together for you to use in the morning. to him, actions were louder than words but you right now; you were being mean and just wanted to hear him say it.

“fuck fuck, fine. alright. ‘m sorry.” bakugou lets out a strained growl as the hand you control gives a particularly hard yank to his hair. “i’m sorry for lying about your quirk. it’s not shitty…’n ‘m sorry for... barging in on your patrol. again.” you grin, satisfied with his answer and grab the hand he keeps down with his wrist. you press a simple kiss to the skin, making your husband blush as you release your hold over the limb. katsuki shyly yanks it from your grip, rubbing over the area that you’d kissed, shooting his gaze to the side in the process. “jesus shitty woman, if i don’t die from being a hero or of old fucking age, i know for a fact you’ll be the one to kill me first.” he mutters harshly under his breath, but you know he’s only kidding from the way his hands now fall to your thighs and his fingers rub small circles into the exposed skin.

“pro hero nightsky murders number two pro hero dynamight in cold blood!” you joke as if you’re reading a headline in a news article, katsuki only glares up at you— making no effort to curse you out because of your shitty joke, which causes you to frown while leaning forward to brush some of his hair away from his face. “you know i’m only kidding right? is something wrong? did i come at a bad time?”

it’s only now that you notice the exhausted expression that paints your lover’s face. he’s always up to playing this game with you, at the same time every day— you come to bother him about some trivial matter, tease him a bit and leave with a kiss. but today, you can tell he’s trying to hide something from you. something that bothers him.

bakugou shakes his head, leaning into your touch as you play with his hair— a habit he’d picked up from even before you started dating back in high school, although he’d never admit that to you if you’d asked. “nothin’, just this stupid fuckin’ interview the PR team want me to do about the fight today. the one i took from you,” your husband smirks slightly at the thought and you roll your eyes for what seems like the nine hundredth time that afternoon. “didn’t get to finish my fuckin’ lunch but they promised me a couple days off if i got the interview done.”

“better the number two than me, eh? but don’t worry, i’ll order us some take out tonight,” your suggest, voice coming out as soft and mingling with your slight giggle— a quiet melody to katsuki’s ears. your only reply from him is a grunt, so you stop your fingers in his hair and watch as he scowls up at you. you quickly press a kiss to the explosive hero’s lips, pulling away to reveal his blushing face. you smile, knowing that you’re the only one who can make him flush red like that. “there’s something else bothering you, isn’t there?”

if there’s one thing katsuki bakugou hates, it’s how you read him like an open book. one look at him and it’s like you know exactly how he’s feeling. he can never hide anything from you— sometimes that both pisses him off and reminds him of how much he is loved by you. he hesitates with his words at first but decides to confide in you anyway, knowing that you’ll get it out of him in one way or another. “‘m worried about you, dumbass.” he mumbles, nudging your hand with his head as if to ask you to continue your earlier actions. “i know you had it, yer fuckin’ powerful but you looked so tired in that fight today ‘n i thought something bad was gonna happen to you, y’fuckin’ shitty woman.”

he toys with the tears in your costume now, smoothing over scars from your bumps and scratches as a result of combat. “oh lovebug,” you mumble, cupping his cheeks to make him look up at you. “you know i can handle my own, they just took a lot out of me today. i promise i’ll—“

“that’s not it, fuck,” katsuki cuts you off, brows furrowing deeply as he grabs your wrists— pulling your from his desk and into his lap. he holds you close, burying his nose into your neck as if you’re going to disappear. you sit still, a little shocked by his actions and his quick change of mood, but wrap your arms around him anyway and slowly fall silent. “it's just that...we’re both pros now and at the top of our ranks ‘n we both have a lot to lose.” you instinctively cling tighter to katsuki, mind flickering to the homemade paperweight you’d spotted on his desk earlier... causing your heart clench.

your daughter had made that for him during her time at preschool for fathers day; something your husband cherished with his whole heart, even if the thing was still sticky with glue when he’d gotten it.

katsuki loved taiga more than anything in the world and if something had happened to her because of your line of work, you don’t know what either of you would do. “what if something were to happen to you? or to me? or shit...both of us? who would look after taiga? you know what happens to kids who end up in the fucking system.” bakugou pauses, the same tired expression from earlier now sitting heavily on his face. “i just want you to be careful, stop pushing yourself so much, y’fuckin’ dumbasss. we have a family take care of. it’s not just you and i anymore.”

you nod, grasping onto your lover’s clothes tightly. the air is flooded with a comfortable silence, the pair of you holding one another right the way through it. you treasure moments like this, where the world stops and katsuki shows you another, more vulnerable side to him.

he would never admit or show this to anyone; but he cares , more than he lets on... especially for you and especially for your daughter. he was attentive, paid attention to you and your weaknesses and helped you overcome them. it was something you couldn’t stop loving about him. “i promise to be more careful, for you and for taiga,” you say quietly after he’s done scolding you, brushing your lips against the side of his head in a soft peck. “that must’ve been why jumped in earlier, you were worried about me?”

“somethin’ like that, you crazy woman,,” bakugou whispers, there’s a tinge of fondness to his ruby eyes as you pull away to look at him, his hands settling on your hips while he moves up to press a soft kiss to your awaiting lips. “didn’t want you getting yourself killed.”

you stay with katsuki in the office for a little longer than usual, laying on his chest as he prattles away about everything and anything even though he should be working. you make sure he eats his lunch, despite how cold it is and promise him a boat load of take out when he comes home later— your sweet cuddling session only being cut short by a call from your assistant to tell you that your daughter is ready to be picked up from school. “better finish that interview katsu, taiga’ll be happy to know her daddy’s getting some time off to spend with her soon,” you remind him as you gather yourself together, your husband pouting ( he swears on his life he wasn’t ) from the loss of your warmth in his lap. “she has a lot to tell you.”

the blonde quirks a brow, watching you as you head for the door. “yeah? like what?” a hand comes up to cover your mouth as you giggle at his curious face. sometimes, when you look at katsuki, you could see how much your daughter resembles him, right down to his mannerisms. she had somehow inherited the shape of your nose and the brightness of your smile ( the only reason barely anyone realised bakugou had a kid, he never fucking smiled. ) but the bakugou genes were incredibly strong so there was no way she’d miss out on those crimson eyes and uncontrollable, untameable messy blonde hair.

she even acted like him. a very brazen little girl who knew what she wanted and how to get it, so she had her daddy wrapped around her stubby little fingers.

you grin, eyes sparkling with the same mischief as before. “oh y’know, just her little crush on midoriya’s boy.”

“yer fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”

“i would never joke about such a thing, just make sure you’re home in time for dinner, number two!” you squeal, dashing out of the office before your husband has time to demand more answers from you. slamming the door shut, you chuckle at the melody of curses that leave your husbands mouth before heading off to pick up your daughter.

on your way, you admit to yourself , that maybe you didn’t have this fight in the bag. but what you did have; was a loving husband, a beautiful daughter and the best life you could have ever imagined.

extended ending:

“so, taiga... daddy hears you have a little... crush on someone.”

you’re in the kitchen, washing the dishes from tonight’s dinner as bakugou wipes tentatively at your little girl’s messy face— she was a poor eater but it’s something you didn’t mind, not when your husband was so soft with cleaning her up. you can see them from where you stand, watching katsuki knowingly.

taiga looks up from the colouring you’d set out for her when she finished up her meal, crimson eyes shining brightly as she fixes her gaze on her father. “mhm mhm!! he’s mister deku’s son! and i’m gonna marry him!”

“no yer not.” bakugou answers simply, looking close to popping a vein.

“why not?”

your husband scoffs, throwing away the tissue he’d used to clean his little girl up before joining her in her colouring. “‘cause daddy says so ‘n boys are gross, especially ones who’s dad’s look like broccoli.” the older ash blonde seems satisfied with his answer, grinning to himself as you dry the dishes with an amused smile.

but taiga isn’t finished, swapping her green crayon for a red one to finish up her drawing. “but you’re a boy...and mommy still married you!”

bakugou pauses, lost for words as taiga continues to colour— humming the theme song from a commercial for some of deku’s merch. you can tell it’s taking everything katsuki’s got not to combust right there on the spot, but he can’t stay mad at taiga for too long, not when she’s describing her wedding and how her daddy is going to walk her down the isle.

setting the dishes to dry and towelling your hands; you smile to yourself as you admire your family. some would say you had it all, and looking at the pair of bakugou’s now, who were you to deny the truth.

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dropsofletters · 3 years

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runaway silhouette [jjh]

—summary: no one asks about that polaroid picture of a woman yoonoh keeps in the depths of his wallet.

lace, measurements, models—jung yoonoh has worked for the world of fashion for a little too long, but he’s as unknown as the person next door. with his inspiration dying down and his designs getting cheaper by the day, yoonoh has changed his ways. no longer is he the best lingerie designer in ‘silhouette’, the company he works for, neither is he the playboy he used to be and the dulcet-mouthed man that got his way through success.

bad luck has settled in his life, much like it has done on hers. the manager of a hotel that slipped his fingertips when one night she denied him all—the world, her hold, her smile, and just left him with a picture on his wallet.

only when he has to prepare one of the biggest fashion showcases of his life does he meet her again, and he realizes things could never be easy between them.

why is he, a man of fashion, infatuated with such a lovesick, monotone, blazer-sporting hotel manager? no one will ever know.

a runaway has captured him, and he’s not sure how to get his heart back.

maybe, he should start by forgetting that night.

—title: runaway silhouette —pairing: jung yoonoh x reader —genre: lingerie designer!au ; hotel manager!au ; strangers to lovers to enemies!au ; slowburn!au ; slice of life!au —type: fluff ; angst ; humor ; drama ; suggestive —word count: 19,326 (i said slowburn and i meant it) —warnings: mentions of sex (the act is never on paper or narrative)

Jung Yoonoh is dressed to succeed.

With folded white sleeves and a black vest that becomes a second skin, he merges into the office like it belongs to him. It might, at some point in time; an associate after a few years and then, onto another business that was his own—vision, designs, everything. That’s the plan. His suitcase hangs, paces back and forth in the hook of his fist while all eyes cast on him while walking through the cubicles.

Today, Yoonoh is becoming the one in charge.

Silhouette is the lingerie line everyone wants to have cladding their skin. Expensive, intricate and elegant. It’s one of those things people put on when they need to feel their best while also being comfortable. Garments that enamor the buyer and the people who see them. His home for the past two years, Yoonoh has broken his ass to get to the manager position in the design department.

When settling his suitcase on his cubicle, he shares a smile with his neighbor. Johnny, part of the social media team, with his long-curled hair framing his rounded face. Fixing the collar of his shirt, Johnny interrupts him to say.

“Big day today, aye?”

Redemption, he likes to call this day. The payment for the parties he didn’t go to and the obnoxious nagging he stood from his boss, Mrs. Kang. This tall woman with atrocious so-last-season fluffed out coats in bright pink who screams at the mere sight of beige underwear. As she says, it’s tacky and simple, the kind of clothing you’d want to wear when un-turning someone on.

Yoonoh can’t wait until he can make decisions, organize collections, make bigger and better options for Silhouette to expand.

“You see, John, once I become your boss…I’m making you the leader of the PR and Social Media Team.” This place is a nest of snakes. One bite on his first day and he already became smarter. “Can’t be trusting anyone else with these babies.” With that, he opens his suitcase, sketchbook pressed to his chest just as Johnny claps his hands.

“Better position means better salary.” Johnny conquers, as casual as ever in his baby blue sweater

There are a few rules to Silhouette. To any workplace, really, and Yoonoh thinks about this just as he swings his long legs with Johnny following after him like a dog and his tail.

He had written them down in a portion of his brain that keeps his coffee order and his mom’s birthday. He’ll never forget them.

1) Never trust nobody—never say where you come from in business, where you’re headed, what your dreams and aspirations are. Copycats exist everywhere, and they’ll do anything to follow your track if you’re doing good.

2) Say goodbye to friendships but hello to hypocrisy. A smile is needed, but is it real? Not at all.

3) Differentiate your works from others. Being special is the only way you’ll stand out.

One push of the door spreads a smile on his face, brown hair pushed back to showcase his plush, rosy lips and his gleaming eyes. What’s rule number four, you may ask?

Don’t let them see how tired you are.

Mrs. Kang sits at the very end of the meeting table. Always early, never late. Her face is dense with makeup, each wrinkle becoming more apparent as she applies a third layer of bright pink lipstick. Yoonoh knows Mrs. Kang has been the biggest dictator of all—giving him more work hours, destroying the designs she didn’t like from him, and making him get jittery fingers from how much he had to sew and unsew with the sewing machine to show her what his mind had captured. Now that she had found a way younger boyfriend that is eager to give a trip to the entirety of Asia, he’s over the moon.

Because that means old and grumpy Mrs. Kang will be gone for a while, and whoever becomes manager will be, then, the one in charge.

“Mrs. Kang!” Yoonoh greets in a tone that is much too faux, his dimple becoming apparent by the second. The woman looks up and away from her compact, stopping the conversation he is having with his biggest rival in the office. Not worth even thinking about. “Classic always goes best. You look beautiful today.”

She can barely even move her features in a smile. That’s how obstinate this woman is, but one of her wrinkly hands comes up to hold Yoonoh’s bicep when he leans down to press two kisses on each of her cheeks. The old European greeting. “I know, Yoonoh.” She adds, extending her hand towards him. “May you show me your designs? I got here earlier than expected and I have something to do right now so—”

That makes Yoonoh’s smile falter the slightest, just as he opens his sketchbook and splays it in front of Mrs. Kang. “Well, Mrs. Kang, if you let me have a few of your minutes, I prepared a PowerPoint presentation and a video for the collection I have in mind as my desire to become head of the designing team—”

“Silence, Yoonoh.” Mrs. Kang interrupts, going through his lingerie designs for both men and women. It’s not the kind of job people think about when designing, but there is something about seduction and comfort that just works well for him. “I’m in the midst of planning my engagement and I don’t have the time for whatever extra thing you have in mind.”

The room is silent, but if features could talk, the woman seated next to Mrs. Kang would have burst out in laughter. Siyeon is a 4’11 piece of shit that dared steal one of his designs when in his beginnings in Silhouette. A fuchsia baby-doll that turned viral in the blink of an eye once it appeared in runways. Comfortable, sexy, with the right number of straps and the comfort of wearing it at any occasion, companion or not.

Yoonoh had left his sketch at his desk, only to find it gone the next morning. Mrs. Kang was over the moon, both from the money she got and about the audacity of the design. Siyeon had turned it in as hers.

No wonder her husband doesn’t stand her. She’s the devil reincarnate, and slips in Johnny’s DM’s every once in a while.

Yoonoh can’t say he doesn’t have some screenshots saved on his phone just in case he needs to blackmail her. This is the kind of man he has become.

“Done before.” Mrs. Kang flips onto another one of his designs. “Done before.” And then, she continues with the rest. “Vulgar. Boring. Ugly. Done before. Jesus, Yoonoh, did you even try to do anything?”

Yoonoh is used to praise. He has got it from women, throughout his time in college and even at his previous jobs. As an intern, he was refreshing and a nice sight in the designer area. Now, he is the floor Mrs. Kang steps on with her Louis Vuitton’s.

“I—” The meeting room is silent, everyone in the designer team trying to peek at his sketches. A short laugh leaves his lips, though awkward in tone. “We’ll compete against brands like Savage with designs like this. They’re brave and fitted and—”

“Boring.” Mrs. Kang completes, and Siyeon actually laughs at that moment, playing with one of her curled bright red strands of hair. “Yoonoh, I’m being serious. If the women you’re sleeping with are wearing lingerie like this…I’m worried about your sexual health.”

More laughter, and his jaw finally tightens. He tries to tell himself to smile, but he doesn’t, instead, snatching the sketchbook from her.

Mrs. Kang notices this, pushing her reading glasses down her nose before sighing. “Yoonoh, you need to learn how to take constructive criticism. You’re not perfect and I’m here to make you grow.” Says the woman that steps on him each time she can. At this point, he’s practically plastered on the floor. “I’m sure you’ll get to divert these boring ideas into something creative once Siyeon becomes the head of the department. You two have been so close since the beginning and I am sure she will work magic on you.”

“No.” Yoonoh shakes his head just as he plasters a faux smile on his features. “Ah, I—Well, I won’t—”

Siyeon stands up from her seat, fixing the sleeves of her white dress before clearing her throat. “I’m glad of getting the position and being the one, remotely, in charge of Silhouette as Mrs. Kang goes find true love.” This is not happening. Yoonoh rubs at his eyes in case he is dreaming. He has been preparing for this presentation for five months— “All I have to say is…I wouldn’t have been able to do this without the support of everyone here. My team. My heart. I have grown to have a family with you, not because we’re perfect, but because we’re together and…of course, it’s nice to continue down this path.” She hums. “A woman in charge and then, another woman. Isn’t that the whole point of Silhouette?”

His tongue scalds his palette when he takes a seat next to Mrs. Kang, closing his sketchbook with a harsh slap of his hand. Siyeon’s eyes connect to his own, fluttering her dense mascara-coated lashes before sighing.

“I had the pleasure of seeing Yoonoh in his first few days here and he has lost that spark, but I’m sure we’ll find it again.” Oh, everyone gets roses but he gets a few, too. For his social funeral, that is. He really wants to get out of there as soon as possible. “I’m thankful.”

There go the tears, and Siyeon covering her face with her hand, a smile hidden behind the action.

…Has he ever said he hates working in Silhouette?

“You’re going to make me cry, too.” One of the members of the manufacturing team says in between big sobs and Yoonoh can’t help but roll his eyes.

Fuck this place.

After an elongated meeting with tearful hugs and looks thrown his way, Yoonoh is ready to find somewhere else to work in. Keep to himself until he dares get his curriculum somewhere else and stab this company straight in the back. Not because he didn’t get the job…but…

Let’s be honest, it’s because he didn’t get the job and he lost it to Siyeon.

Johnny slips around a few hours later with some cheeseburgers in a plastic bag, dense in cheese and stinking the two conjoined cubicles before he says:

“She’s the devil.”

“An exorcism wouldn’t be enough for her.” Yoonoh replies, tongue itching to say something when he unleashes the cheeseburgers from their confines. He’s only five minutes away from lunchtime, after all. “I can’t believe they gave it to her. Her designs are…I don’t know, like lace over lace. That’s not elegant, that’s not what Silhouette stands for—”

“Here’s the thing,” Johnny says, smacking his lips as he speaks with a mouthful of burger in his mouth. “You never had a chance.”

A pang rests in the pit of his heart when he scoffs. “Yes, I did.”

“No, you don’t.” His friend replies. “Everyone in this office hates you but me. I believe it is a Freudian theory. The Jung Yoonoh Effect.” Voiced out like a movie trailer, Johnny extends one of his hands in the air.

“Sorry for not caring about anything but business. Everyone here are suck-asses and crybabies. Why should I care?”

“Because people feel disconnected to you. They don’t to Siyeon.” Johnny conquers. “The Jung Yoonoh Effect is simple.”

“Stop it. You don’t even know who Freud is.”

“That one psychologist that compared everything to sex. That’s who he is. Hence, why you’re there.”

Yoonoh quirks an eyebrow, playing with a slice of meat that had gotten out of his burger. “What are you even talking about?”

“Interns always thirst over you. At least, five out of every nine people in this office has had a wet dream about you, liked enough of your Instagram pics to look like a freak, or would have your dick in a second if the second step of your effect wouldn’t come around.”

“…I’m not that bad of a guy.”

“But you’re bland. Work. Work. Work.” Johnny moves his hand as if it’s talking. Now he’s playing marionettes. Great. “We’re selling lingerie, and you are always about competition and work. We need you to be passionate.”

“Passionately suck up to people?” Yoonoh shakes his head, huffing in the process. “No thanks, man. I’m not going to lower myself to Siyeon’s standards. Not sure I want to get pink eye from kissing so much ass.”

“Been there, done that.” Johnny sighs, a smile displayed on his features. “I’m just saying, bro. Maybe, change the game—”

Something Yoonoh is…stubborn. He’d die with that title, and it is only enhanced when he feels a long nail tapping on his shoulder, making him turn around. He expects to see one of those interns that try to stumble out words when asking him for his e-mail to send him the summaries or designs they have worked on, but this time around, he is met with Siyeon’s face.

“No eating until lunchtime.” She tuts, shaking her finger in the air.

This means war.

Yoonoh points at the clock on his wrist, showing it to her. Rolex, maybe, he’s spoiling himself with the benefit of showing her he has also earned some money, designs mediocre or not. “It’s already my lunchtime.”

“Not to me.” Siyeon answers, straightening her back. “Maybe, you’d like to listen to me before I kick you out of the team, don’t you, Yoonoh?”

With that, he pushes the burger onto his desk, covering it just as Siyeon smiles.

“Good boy.” She coos, laughing when she turns around and returns to giving a run-around the office.

“That’s it.” Yoonoh whispers, running his hands through his hair, not caring if he messes it up in the process. “I’m designing the best fucking collection one could ever find and showing everyone in this goddamned office that I have talent.”

“Ooh, and where do you think you’ll get inspiration from?” Johnny tries to gossip, and Siyeon’s soft touch for him is shown when she doesn’t even spare him a glance as he munches on his burger.

“I think I have someone in mind.”

###

She’d color-code her life if she could. Hence, it’s still a mess, and while she is as organized as she could be, her mind is still trying to process how to keep the hotel she works in safe and sound and quiet.

One would think that being the manager of a hotel would be easy. A three-star-hotel, no celebrities, no paparazzi’s, definitely not enough rich people who care about their environment. As long as she made it homely, clean, and nice to stay in, it wouldn’t be much of an issue.

The problem is…everything is a mess.

For one, her boss, Sachiko, has not appeared in the last two days into the hotel. None of her well-prepared summaries, in Times New Roman twelve, with enough punctuation to make it look like a contract, have been read. The maids keep talking amongst themselves, gossiping instead of cleaning. They got a bad review on their restaurant because the head of the cooking team had decided to shout to one of the clients about how ‘they didn’t have an ounce of taste’ because they disliked the taste of his Ratatouille and oh, how to forget? The fact that her duties as a manager transcend to something else.

She rushes through the kitchen, heat and smoke accompanied by the sizzling of veggies and meat. She doesn’t care that there are flames around her, or that she bumps into one of the cooks in the process.

Sachiko has a mini version of herself, gift of a getaway with her ex-husband to try to make her marriage work. Then, came the five-year-old that had slipped her hold as she was attending one of the residents in their hotel at the entrance, granting them information about the type of rooms they offered. Erika, in all her round-faced glory with grabby hands and too much energy, had slipped from her line of sight and her hold.

She has roamed the entire hotel and she can’t find her.

Oh, then, she should change her statement that she hasn’t seen Sachiko in two days. She has. Sachiko’s heels have clicked against the tiles of this hotel. Only to leave Erika with her, spitting out excuses about having to get on another meeting for the expansion of the hotel, before she’s off the hook of being a full-time mother.

She doesn’t even get more payment for this.

“Have you seen Erika?!” She asks out loud, voice strained from so much shouting, only to watch the head chef speak, his moustache moving with each word he says.

“Oh, little Erika?” Well, seems like he has a soft spot for someone. His eyes glimmer, just as he wraps his hand around his mouth, as if to utter a secret. “She’s in one of the tables. She asked for two milkshakes already. Oreo milkshakes. She’s starting to jitter.”

“Mr. Oh!” She whines, throwing her head back with a groan before splaying her hands on her hips. Navy blue uniform as a simple suit giving her the most boring yet comforting outfit she could come up with. “I am the one that has to get her to sleep, and if she has sugar before bed, she won’t even close an eye—”

Mr. Oh shrugs. “What am I supposed to say? She’s my boss’ daughter.”

“I am your boss as well.”

“You’re getting me fired?”

She can’t even answer to him, hearing the Baby Shark song spoken at the top of someone’s little lungs. Her feet are rushing out of the kitchen by the time she notices it, blazer opening up when she gets to the table Erika is in. Red walls and marble tables don’t scare her, playing with the straw of her drink and grabbing someone’s phone to listen to that fucking song again.

“Erika…” She tuts, voice stern, hands spread out on her knees. This cardio routine has been enough to make her burn all she has eaten this month. The little girl’s short hair caresses her cheeks when she turns towards her, a mischievous smile on her face.

“Yes?”

“Let’s go to your room and wait for mommy to get here.”

“Nope.”

“Yes, Erika. I am not playing.” Her voice levels itself, only to have Erika staring back at her. Big brown eyes blinking, playing with the edge of her pretty pink dress before sighing.

“But you won’t let me…let me watch my shows.” She takes in a breath, shuddering it out as a pout splays on her lips. “Y—You…mommy said you’d be with me, but you aren’t with me at all—”

Tears wield her eyes and she has to rush to cage her in her hold, hoisting her up before a big wail left her lips and she lost her job. “I’m sorry, Erika. I’ve been so busy, I hadn’t realized.” She mumbles out, pressing her cheek to the top of her head before sighing. “Do you want to give a walk around the hotel and go back to your room to watch as many shows as you want?”

She has to play good cards here. She’s not raising this child, after all, so if the long hours of TV-watching make her turn out bad when she’s a teen…that’s not her business.

Erika nods continuously, engulfing her arms around her shoulders. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

At least, she has found Erika before Sachiko arrives the next morning, but her body practically glues itself to the floor in tiredness by the time she slips out of the restaurant.

The best part of being a manager is when she gets back home.

###

“So, you’re saying you practically lost your job?”

Yoonoh’s life revolves one thing. Those four walls of his cubicles, the connections he has gotten from his workplace and his elongated list of explanations that always go unheard. In any other occasion, he would have been delighted of being given the benefit of lying. Casual relationships are more of his thing and explaining his every insecurity, recollection of time or worry isn’t part of the plan. Carnalities? Sure thing.

A hook-up turned friend with benefits pushing him by the chest and practically gasping when he sighs? He didn’t think it’d end this way.

“Mia,” His voice rasps out, leaning back on his calves while hovering over her. Her bed is as pristine as always, the rosy satin sheets from last week turned into beige, deep fibers that do sound too elegant for them to do whatever they are thinking of in the bed. “I didn’t lose my job, I just didn’t become the head of my department, okay?”

He’s trying to spell it out, but the model is just as confused. Mia had modelled for Silhouette a bunch of times in the last two years, and that’s how he met her. Fitting one of his designs to her will had led him to be asked out on a date and then, the contract came about. Just sex, nothing more.

Mia scrambles away from underneath him, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as if repulsed. As if she had kissed an ogre itself. “Yoonoh, you’re practically jobless—!”

“I am not.” He sighs out, trying his hardest to concentrate on anything around the room. The tall ceilings, the conversation at hand, anything but the obvious problem in his boxers right now. “I swear, I will just be working for Siyeon but it’s for a period of time. I’m sure I’ll get her position soon enough.”

“Oh my God,” Mia pushes her long brown hair away from her shoulders, widening those innocent eyes of hers, sharp cheekbones lifting in distaste—not even a smile of comprehension. “I can’t believe I almost slept with a good for nothing. You told me you’d get that job and now you didn’t?”

“A good for nothing?” Yoonoh stands up from that bed, hands on his hips when Mia nods, once and then twice.

“Your dick is good, but not that good.”

Is this the day Yoonoh’s ego gets bruised to shattered little pieces that poke at his feet like glass? Perhaps.

Is this the day Yoonoh lets that pang of pain in his chest become visible? Not at all.

“Were you just with me because I was probably going to be a manager?”

“Silhouette is—listen, they are established, but it’s not what I had in mind.” Mia puts on her robe, covering her Goddess-crafted body before picking up a glass of the wine they had been sharing. “If you became manager, I’d have more connections with other teams. I would probably be in better runways and—”

“I’m not your manager or your little linking buddy, Mia.” Yoonoh complains, chest flushed when he seethes, pushing the strands of his dark hair away from his face. “We’re just having fun. I wasn’t going to bring you as my plus one when we had already established—”

“I don’t know if you notice,” She starts, licking her lips in elegance. “But you’re…you’re going to end up alone, Yoonoh. All you do is work, you’re always tense and silent and…a little bit boring, if I’m being honest. I am definitely the closest thing you’ll ever have to a relationship.”

Oh, no. That’s the thing he hates the most. How the world has been divided in romanticists and hard-workers. You’re one of the other, can’t ever be both, and sometimes, he feeds into that stereotype. He knows he doesn’t have time to fully sit down and talk to someone about his interests, let his heart be wandered about like a museum, but somehow…hearing anyone tell him that he’s tense, silent, boring…doesn’t sit well with him.

He shrugs, eager to poke just like done to him. “Good thing I never wanted a relationship with you to start with.”

Mia gasps at that, plush lips parted before she’s opening the window of her one-floor home. Elegant, but still not the grandest thing out there. “Oh, is that so?”

“You happen to be presumptuous, superficial and now, a complete opportunist—” He says, walking behind her until she turns around, her robe falling off one shoulder when she points at the window, crisp air whisking the tension around.

“Then, leave.”

“Okay.” He’s about to turn around and grab his clothing, when he feels her tugging at his taut forearm.

“Not through the door. You don’t get the benefit to do that.” Once again, Mia is pointing at the window and that catches a chuckle out of Yoonoh, that rises and rises in tone.

“I won’t get out through there.”

“I didn’t ask you. I told you to.” With that, she’s pushing at his chest, trying to get him out as he scrambles to get a hold of her.

“Mia! Are you fucking insane?!”

“Tired of your bullshit, Yoonoh. That’s it.”

Mia is, perhaps, not stronger than him, but for someone who walks on runways…she’s mad strong. Maybe, it’s the necessity to get him out of her home or the flying atrocity of her train of thought that has him stumbling backwards in one of those moments. In just his boxers, the prickling of the grass and the flowers in Mia’s garden caress and poke at his skin, tickling in enormous amounts just as he falls into the most embarrassing position he has been in.

The moonlight seeps over his skin, a groan ripping from the depths of his soul at the ache on his back when he hears the window closing, not without a few words from Mia: “And don’t you dare call me again, asshole.” And maybe, he would have laughed at the stupidity of the statement, because throwing someone out of a window is definitely not a reason to call someone back, but now, he’s much too surprised and in pain.

###

She wishes she was back to being a kid.

It’s a thought she has when the days are tough and uncertainty fills her, like a vase that is neither half full or half empty, but just stuck. In this town, with a job that she had wished for years ago, that takes away every ounce of will and thrive that she ever had. Days are tiring, nights even more so, and sometimes, she wishes the lake would stop being so calm. For it to be some movement, some waves, some dance of life that tells her: ‘this is something new and I give it to you because you deserve it’.

Instead, she’s walking alongside Erika, whose little feet in her elegant tiny boots are kicking a rock on the sidewalk. They had decided to walk for another block near the hotel, houses scattered in their glow in this enchanting night. It’s a moment of quiet, and she relishes on it, sending a look to the rock and to the little girl, just in case she’s not warm enough or she’s tired.

Oh, how she wishes she was tired.

Erika calls out her name, soft and through a pout, in a way that makes her sound like her age. Very much little a baby. “…Why do…why do girls your age never like boys?”

“What do you mean?” She questions, a smile on her face when sparing Erika a glance. A shrug is given. “I think boys are cool. Not all boys, but some are.”

“Mom doesn’t like my dad, and he’s a boy.” That must be the way she explains her parents’ divorce, but how she’s involved in that? She has no idea. “You…you don’t have a boy. I never hear you talk about boys.”

You see, she hasn’t dated in a while. A while as in…years. Comes to be, building trust into someone after having another person shatter it for you is not only difficult, but somehow near impossible. A plane ticket had said farewell to her in-person relationship and she had embarked in this immense long-distance relationship with too many tears and too much longing. He was distant after a while, and she blamed it on time differences…

Time differences that were proven to be someone else when she called him to tell him she had saved money for seven months just to visit him, only to hear him with another woman.

Another woman who claimed to be his girlfriend of four years.

Not one. Not two. Not three. Not even three and a half. Four.

“I don’t know.” She starts, trying to find the best way to say this. “We don’t always need a boy, Erika. Us girls, we don’t. The only people we need are our family, our friends and ourselves. Princesses can still be pretty and have a lot of people looking up to them without a prince.”

“Like Moana?”

“And Merida.” She completes, a smile on her face when she tugs the little girl up to scoop her in her hold. “Your mom has a hotel and she takes care of it very well without a boy. That doesn’t mean your daddy is not important, but they are happy even when he doesn’t have a girl and she doesn’t have a boy.”

“Then,” Erika plays with the collar of her white button-down. “We all have to be in pairs?” She stops.

“You mean couples?” Erika nods. “Oh no, honey, not all of us have to be in pairs or be part of a couple.” She chuckles at Erika’s innocence. She must be a bit insufferable, but still a kid. With the nightly air blowing at her face, she sighs. “We can all be with anybody, depending on who we like, girls…boys…your mom has told you that, right?”

Humming, Erika opens her mouth to speak up. “Yep.”

“Good girl.” She coos, smiling in the process. “Do you know what decision means?”

“Yes.” Erika conquers. “Carrots or potatoes, like that.”

“Exactly. What you choose is your decision.” She’s trying to make this easy for her. “Your mom doesn’t have to love a man, because that is her decision. As long as she loves herself and you, she’s already complete.”

“And you?” Erika questions.

She hadn’t thought about it in years. It didn’t feel right to be next to someone else, and she doesn’t know if that falls on her a little bit. Loneliness is inherent, this wandering thought that comes to her when she stops and wonders if there is someone out there. Not to complete her, because she’s already full by being on her own, but to support her.

“I am complete, too.” The answer is simple, tucking a strand of Erika’s hair behind her curved little ear. “So are you.”

“I am complete!”

“Yes, you are.”

Something interrupts them just as they pass by a cream-colored house. A groan comes from the flowers planted in the front-yard, and that has her stopping. Flowers don’t talk, obviously, but if someone is hurt—a dog or a human, she has to check.

More groaning and then, she sees a peak of milky skin under the moonlight, paired with tousled black hair. A man is standing in between the bushes, with his lower half thankfully covered by the plants, a short small nose, decently sized lips and a face that speaks anything but a good time.

And he’s half-naked. Only in boxers.

Her hand comes upwards to cover Erika’s eyes just as a loud gasp leaves her lips and she screeches: “Pervert!”

“No, no, no!” The man in question shushes her, lowering his body until even his taut chest and abdomen are covered. His eyes widen comically, and she has to shut her mouth to hear him speak. “I’m not a pervert, I promise! I know this looks wrong but—”

“You’re hiding in the bushes without clothes on, sir. This is definitely something illegal—”

“I was with a woman,” He sends a look towards Erika, levelling his words just because a kid is there, trying to snatch her hand away, but its grip is tight like iron. “And she threw me out because we had a break-up. Kind of. Not serious enough to call it a break up but…my clothes are inside and she won’t let me in. I’ve tried for such a long time. I was hiding until someone passed by but…no one did.”

Still far away from him, she quirks an eyebrow. This relatively, conventionally handsome man had been kicked out by a woman…almost ass-naked?

Talk about an attitude.

“Well, I’ll call someone over to help you out—” She’s about to move again, not completely trusting the man in the bushes when he calls her over with a hiss from his lips. A mix of ‘psst!’ and ‘hey!’ that obnoxiously makes her stop to turn around, still covering Erika’s eyes. “What?”

His eyes glisten when he says: “Help me.” He must be some kind of boss. The stranger says these two words like she has to do it, and she would have turned around again had it not been for those plush lips saying: “Please.”

“What do you want?” She questions, only to have him smiling.

Oh, there is a dimple there. A very profound and albeit, a bit attractive, dimple.

“Clothes.” The stranger adds. “Can you buy me some clothes? I promise I’ll pay you. I just need to get out of here. I think a cockroach bit me in the ass.”

“Language.” She spits out, just as Erika tries to wiggle away from her hold and repeats:

“Ass!”

“Erika!”

“Sorry.” He says again, bringing his hands together in a plea before sighing out: “I need them right now.”

She fixes Erika’s hold around her body, before rolling her eyes hard enough so she cans see the back of her head. “Fine. I’ll find you some clothes.”

###

Erika won’t take care of the family business. She’ll be a stylist, for sure.

The only thing opened at this hour of the night that doesn’t cost her a big portion of her salary is the thrift store and after endlessly explaining the situation to a very eager Erika, she is watching the little girl moving around the store as if she owns it, grabbing clothes here and there in a hassle.

“Erika, be careful. We can only pick three pieces of clothing!” Not that the teenager by the counter cares, popping his bubblegum in between his thin lips, looking down at his phone and tapping on it with a speed that a piano player would envy.

“We have to make him look cute.” Erika tries to say in her most professional voice, and she has to sigh. She will definitely not become a mother anytime soon.

“Yes, but we also have to make it cheap. I don’t have much money in this suit.”

“Yes, yes.” Somehow, she feels like Erika is not listening, pulling at a t-shirt on a table nearby, only to unfold it and give it to her. Her body is so small that she couldn’t see the imprint on the front. As her babysitter of the night, she expands it over her chest, only to watch something within Erika lighting up. “I like it!”

“Good,” She checks the price after muffling a laugh at the words written at the front. “It’s cheap. We can get it.”

Small steps patter against the tiles of the grand store before she’s tugging at the leg of a pair of pants she found on a rack, too tall for her to grab.

“This, this, this, I want this!”

Those ones are a little bit pricier, but when she gets them out of the rack, a smile finally spreads through her features. She has to get it. “You have a gut for styling, little one.”

Erika straightens her back in pride, fisting her small hands before nodding. “Thank you. Want me to buy one for you?”

She chuckles at her words. Definitely not, but she masks it by saying. “We don’t have enough money tonight. Another time.”

###

Props to the man whom now she knows is called Jung Yoonoh…he doesn’t look half as bad in those clothes as anyone else would.

The milky way spreads on Erika’s pupils when she leans on the table that she had taken up in the hotel’s restaurant a little bit over an hour ago. Her line of sight is filled with none other than Yoonoh, whom she had practically cried to just to invite him to have dinner with the two of them. Erika has practically eaten her weight in Oreo milkshakes, but she can’t quite say she is not starving by the time she slips into the leather seats and she smells the delicious cooking from the kitchen.

Compare that to the bland sandwich she has in her locker.

The little girl talks even out of her elbows. Yoonoh, however, patiently listens, trying to keep up with the grand story she has for the outfit she had picked for him. That explains why people take second-glances towards him. Not that he is not handsome enough; the lighting at that house his girl had kicked him out of did not do justice to his chiseled, quite carved face, but there is something about his clothing that captures most of the attention.

A pair of pink flip flops that Erika had picked up at last after they both forgot about shoes. Tight red leather pants that showcase the strength and curve of his thighs, quite lean, elongated legs that she had taken a second look at when seeing him out of the bushes with some clothes on. And, how to forget the old, quite used black tank top that reads: ‘With a body like this, who needs a personality?’.

She had laughed when she saw him.

Her fingers dip her fries on some ketchup by the time Yoonoh does so, sparing her a glance over Erika’s shoulder when the little girl says:

“My friend doesn’t need boys.” The girl adds, wrapping her hands around her mouth before saying. “But don’t feel offended, she still finds boys cool.”

“Some of them.” She corrects, connecting her gaze with Yoonoh’s just as the man leans back on his seat, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Oh, words from a broken heart. Who hurt you?” He questions, quirking one of his eyebrows before taking a bite of the fried chicken he had insisted on getting. Something about those brown eyes seem to capture her perfectly, as if reading her like a book…and she doesn’t like it.

“I’m just too busy to care.” Her voice wavers the slightest when letting out her excuse and then, she scoffs. “You know, that happens when you’re the manager of a hotel.”

“Understandable.” Yoonoh nods a few times before that dimple appears again. “Too busy to care or too busy to date?”

Her face burns by the time Yoonoh asks that question, pleased with the way she widens her eyes. “When did we decide to make me the subject of our conversation?”

“You saw me half-naked, I get to know something about you other than the pressed suits and the obvious distrust issues.” Yoonoh’s tone is playful, that smile never erased from his features, while her frown deepens. She can’t say he’s not correct, but he’s also poking at her nerves with his words.

“I don’t have trust issues.”

He hums. “Your first reaction is to say no to everything. You deny every word that is thrown your way.”

“Because I happen to think guys like you just feel like they know it all.” She comments, taking the same position as him while crossing one leg over the other. Erika just looks between the two, trying to understand this conversation to no avail. “You read and read people, but I can read you well, Yoonoh.”

He expands his arms, showing that ridiculous shirt. May be half true, his body is great, and his personality may be a little bit insufferable. “Read me.”

“Bachelor with a good job who has that ‘rise and grind’ mentality. Don’t take relationships seriously. Can’t look past what’s in front of him and oh, trust issues, too.” She relishes on leaning over the table, watching as his eyes concern the rest of her face, taking in her every feature before his gaze delves down to the fold of her shirt, no buttons opened, but he’s trying to see something there.

“You want me to look at what’s in front of me?” He questions. “It’s you. Didn’t know that was your way of flirting with me. Guess I really do have to thank you for the…outfit.”

“And me!” Erika raises her hand, waiving it in the air happily.

His tutting tone changes when smiling at her. “Thank you, Erika.”

“Who hurt you, Jung Yoonoh?” She questions, mocking the tone he had used on her and trying to stop a smile from appearing on her lips. So, playing around with him is fun, as it seems.

He stops for a moment, as if thinking. The curve of his mouth falls down the slightest and she hears a breath-in that she overthinks about, noticing that there is pain in even the brightest of people. Instead, he shrugs. “I haven’t gotten my heart broken.” Yoonoh says, playing with the strands of his hair, curves of his arms contorting. “Want to be the first to break it, sweetheart?”

“You wish.” She scoffs, only to have Yoonoh dipping more of his fries in ketchup.

“You wouldn’t even kill an ant.” Yoonoh swats without importance. “I doubt you’d break my heart.”

“I wouldn’t want to break your heart, and that’s what differentiates us.” She points between them. “Good cop, bad cop.”

“Excuse me.” A tender voice cuts through the air around us, a young-looking guy with innocent features and glasses too big for his face waves a Polaroid camera in his hold when nearing them. “May I take a picture of you? I have a photography project for a class I’m taking in college and I need to take pictures that bring nostalgia and warmth. I happened to think your little family could be the perfect subject.”

Before she could fully deny they are a family, Erika is wrapping both her little arms around their shoulders as she settles at the center of the table, smiling at the camera. “Cheese!”

Two pictures are taken before she could fully bring a smile to her face, her eyes connecting to Yoonoh’s over the table in a look that she can’t quite recognize. His smile has erased but still, he’s the one to take the picture when the college student says:

“One for you, one for me.” He says, bowing slightly. “Thank you.”

With that, he is gone, but the effect of his picture lingers when she realizes where she is. A complete stranger sits at the same table as her, trying to figure each other our while she should have put Erika to bed long ago, continue with her job and not even look to the sides to see whose lives are coexisting while she’s just working.

“Sorry.” She stands up, shaking her head at her own antics. Helped him, she had already done, and now she has no business to sit with him, grab a bite and just pretend that she doesn’t have things to do. Yoonoh looks up from the picture, eyebrows furrowed when she grabs Erika by the arms and hoists her up. “I—I have to work. I don’t…I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t be here with you.”

“Why?” Yoonoh questions, voice softened when she shakes her head.

“I just shouldn’t.” She finishes, not knowing quite well what this feels like. Casually flirting with a man like him means trouble. “Goodbye, Yoonoh.”

She says those words with the harshest weight of the world, turning around and rushing out of the restaurant while Erika screams out Yoonoh’s name in need for more fun in the night. Nonetheless, she feels someone’s eyes trailing after her, but she knows one look over her shoulder would only bring more questions to her head.

What was the universe trying to do when putting him on her road?

###

There is a picture in his wallet that doesn’t even begin to answer the questions roaming his head. As confused as in the beginning, Yoonoh remains.

He doesn’t know why he stares at it after finishing his meal during lunchtime, the office emptied out of people, flicking at the corner of the Polaroid he would not show anyone even if they paid him a billion won. He just wouldn’t. That ridiculous shirt and those obnoxiously tight pants that definitely gave him a carpet burn that he’s still feeling two days later, should have been enough of a reason not to wonder about the sudden change of mind the hotel manager had.

Maybe, he had offended her. Though, she had kept on playing his game—and he half meant what he said. People like her are easy to read. Definitely an organization freak, perhaps a bit nerdy, with enough worries in her mind to fill an entire book. She wasn’t wrong about his trust issues either, but as he splays his fingertips on top of her placement in the picture, the only one who is not fully smiling, he ponders…

What’s about this girl that has his mind bringing her back all the time?

He closes his wallet just as he opens his sketchbook. A new one, because in his hassle, he had ripped the other that he had filled with all his dreams and hopes. He had crafted bodies, all in different sizes, to design something…and nothing had come to mind, not until he saw her again. That treasure hidden under baggy suits and clothes that he would have never looked at twice if only he hadn’t been captured by the naïve elegance in her face.

His eyes had tried to look, capture a glimpse of the curves around her body, and his imagination gave him more than what he could actually perceive. Yet, it had been enough. Flipping through his color scheme cards, he compares it to the vision he had inside his brain. Conservative, but still enough to feel powerful…

Violet. He doesn’t know why he picks it, but he does.

His fingers can’t stop sketching over the model he has on his sketchbook. He imagines lace and stain, draped thin pieces of clothing over the shoulders. Enough coverage for a one piece…and it comes to him in the form of a muse he would have never imagined. Someone who did not even show him anything, never gave him a chance to talk or fly, because that’s what he had never tried. What Silhouette had never stood for.

The people who are too shy to wear something like what they design.

Attractiveness is a feeling most people should get used to. Being looked at in an adoring light or have a flower thrown their way in the form of a compliment is desired, but has been lost in the eye of lust. Every word of adoration these days has been related to something—the imminent stoppage of the moment for the promise of sex. Never had Yoonoh thought of his designs as something more than a form of self-seduction, with the portrayal of self-love as a higher force for lust, but now, he sees it again.

Lingerie shouldn’t be seducing. It should be a weapon of beauty; a piece of clothing to be taken into consideration, colors that merge well with one’s personality. Not everyone is ready to fully unveil themselves in the light of the sexualized society we live in. Sometimes, people just want to feel nice fabrics against their skin or a glimmer of gorgeousness without showing everything.

The magic of designing is in delicacy.

The ideas come to him then. What was once a two piece for Yoonoh, now is one. What was once see-through, now makes up for riskiness in designs and curves, fabrics added to give more structure, instead of more nudity. Lingerie doesn’t have to be a thin layer of clothing—it can be beautiful, crafted and built.

His e-mail dings with a new entrance, stopping him on his third design as he envisions what must be under that suit—what would fit her and other working people for needing a boost, without actually showing the clothing to anyone but themselves, but soon enough, his face falls at Siyeon’s e-mail.

Subject: The Boss Wants You to Work.

Greetings, my beloved Yoonoh,

Silhouette has been known for its strong stance in the fashion community, and I have been pleased to land a runway show for us in, specifically, twenty-nine (29) days. In light of this, I send you the list of things you have to do:

1) Design a set for the main male model of the runway, Kim Jungwoo. It has to be a showstopper if you want to keep working with him. I need this to be sent in 6 days.

2) Find a nice and not as expensive place for the publicity photoshoot to take part on. I don’t want simple. I need ravishing visuals.

3) Talk to the newbie models and make sure that said day, the stylists don’t screw up.

Thank you.

Sincerely,

Jeon Siyeon.

Yoonoh rolls his eyes before starting to type a reply. The devil must be in front of her computer.

Subject: [RE]: The Boss Wants You to Work.

Hello,

I had already started working on a female set. I’m a female lingerie designer. I think I am not the one in charge of Jungwoo’s outfit.

Sincerely,

Jung Yoonoh.

The response comes just as he begins scrabbling his ideas into paper once again.

Subject: Who asked?

I want you to work on Jungwoo’s outfit. See if you get better while working on boxers instead of bras.

Not as sincerely,

Jeon Siyeon.

Spreading one hand on top of his sketchbook, he rubs the bridge of his nose before he breathes in deeply. Okay, now it seems like he has to craft something for a model that he doesn’t even know about, as well as finding the place for a photoshoot. An assistant, he seems to be now, and Siyeon’s, nonetheless.

But a place comes to mind, soon enough.

###

Devastation comes short to the wails that leave the kid’s lips. That speaks of pleas and pain.

Over a week of Sachiko coming up with different meetings had led up to an expected, yet somewhat uncalculated, road trip to where she hopes to build her second hotel. That said, she won’t stay for a day or two, but for the entirety of two weeks away from Erika. The daughter that now clings onto Sachiko like a koala, hiding her face in the crook of her neck, black hair matching her own as she cries uncontrollably.

Sachiko is at her apartment’s doorstep, luggage by the side of her elongated legs, as she shushes her daughter with a worried gaze. “You’re going to be okay, baby.” Then, she calls out her name, trying to wipe the tears in her eyes with just one hand. “You’ll be taken care of…and I will be back before you know it.”

“Why do you leave?!” Erika screeches, and Sachiko tries her best to reason with her, but her own whines are stopping her.

So, with her pajamas and tiredness lingering within her, she places a hand on top of Erika’s back. “Because your mom wants you to have a great life, Erika. She wants to buy you all you need and for you to have dreams as big as hers.” Maybe, she won’t get it now, but it’s the best she can do to explain the situation.

It manages to make Erika turn around, blinking her tears onto her cheeks. “I don’t want her to go.”

“We’ll mark the calendar…and she’ll come soon enough.” She whispers out, and it’s at this moment that she regrets saying yes to Sachiko when she asked her to take care of her daughter for a little while longer.

A little while longer shouldn’t mean two weeks.

Still, Erika doesn’t let go of her mom. She’s glued to her.

“I made you some hot chocolate, and I have some pudding that I prepared for me earlier.” Because sugary sweet meals seem to make her feel better in these days of uncertainty. This makes Erika widen her eyes, looking back at her mom before questioning her with a small smile.

“There you go, there’s my smiling baby.” Sachiko finishes, putting her daughter down before looking down at her watch. “My taxi is waiting for me. You can call me tomorrow, Erika, okay?”

“Yes, mommy!” But Erika is already moving towards the kitchen to grab a mug of that sweet, sweet hot chocolate.

She knows sweets are her weak point.

The only weak point she has.

“Make sure she sleeps early, okay?” Sachiko says, and all she can do is nod.

“Sure thing.” I can’t promise a thing, she thinks.

“And that she doesn’t eat too many sweets. I’ll let this one slide.”

“Only veggies.” She says as she grabs her doorframe in between her hold. Only to give her something sweet after she throws the veggies at my face, her mind replies.

“Thank you.” Sachiko adds over her shoulder, a smile to her face. “I know it’s difficult, but I really don’t have any family to take care of her and I really do trust you. I promise to pay you well after all this.”

That’s a nice start.

“Don’t worry. Me and Erika get along well.” That’s not a lie, but taking care of a kid is extremely tiring. “Just get in your taxi. We’ll be fine.”

With that, minutes pass by of complete silence, Erika’s eyes trained on her phone, blasting Peppa Pig, with one or two hiccups escaping here and there as she drinks her first mug of chocolate. She joins her, slicing another bit of cake and shrugging off whatever thought appears inside her brain.

The chocolate merges on the roof of her mouth, warming her to the tip of her toes, each aching muscle after hours of working relaxing, even a bit entranced by the show she’s not watching, but might be brain-washing her just like the rest of the kids.

“Another one, please.” Erika says after finishing her episode, extending her mug of chocolate towards her before she smiles sweetly.

She shakes her head. “Mom said no sweets.”

“Please?” The little girl drags with dulcetness in her tone, but she repeats the previous action.

“Nope.”

Erika places the mug down, head laying low before she repeats: “Chocolate, please!”

“I said nope.”

The kid stops for a moment, thinking as the sound of the dishwasher starting up as she cleans the mugs and the plates, and just then, her small voice is heard again:

“You don’t give me chocolates because you’re sad about Yoonoh?”

That makes her halter all steps. Yoonoh. The man that she had met days ago. Adonis without a shirt on, and then some weird 2011 wannabe that happened to have dinner with her and Erika. The lingering flirtations between the two had not been forgotten, those pair of eyes that somehow seemed to want to strip her of her utmost secrets, only for her to back away.

Yoonoh means trouble.

“I am not sad about Yoonoh.” She adds, turning around with her damp hands ending up over her waist. “Why do you think I’m sad about him?”

“Because he’s your boy!” Erika screeches as if it’s the most obvious thing, and she’s starting to get tired of the kid’s insane romanticism mixed with optimism. Sure, she’s a kid, but Disney should start making less princesses with a prince. “Mommy explained it to me.”

“What did she explain?” Not that she’s understanding a thing, but please, she does need to be enlightened.

“I asked mommy how people acted when they were in pairs.”

“When they are couples.”

“Yep!” The grin on her chubby cheeks is enchanting, but by what she’s saying, she’s about to ask Sachiko to pick her up again. The love talk is not her thing. “And she said boys smile a lot and they speak weirdly, like things I can’t understand.” That is a way to put it. “And the girl looks down a lot…and I don’t remember what else she said, but you did all those things with Yoonoh. He is your boy!”

“Boyfriend, not boy.” She corrects, turning around to continue to wash the dishes. Was he smiling at her? She had seen the dimple, but she hadn’t thought that he had beamed around like a madman. “And he’s not my boyfriend. I don’t have one.”

“But why?” Erika drags her voice.

“We already had the talk of Moana and Merida.”

“I get that. I’m like them. I don’t want to be with boys.” She utters innocently, standing up to tug at her sleeve. “But you are with Yoonoh.”

“Oh, no.” She shakes her head, laughter escaping her lips. “You hit your head, Erika.”

“I didn’t!” The little girl says, scratching her head just in case. “You’re a princess. He’s a prince—”

“Erika!” She stops her, interrupting her with ease before sighing. “I met Yoonoh the day we saw him, and I didn’t like him that way. We aren’t even friends.”

She juts out her lip. “I wasn’t friends with Mina either.” That’s Erika’s best friend from school. “But we became friends in a day. She put a worm in the teacher’s sandwich…” Her voice becomes soft, a blush appearing on her face. “It was awesome.”

“It’s different for adults.” That’s the best way to put it. She shakes the water away from her hands after closing the faucet before patting them dry on a towel. “What would you do if I said I disliked Yoonoh?”

“Nothing.” She adds. “You said you liked cool boys, and he’s a cool boy.”

He’s an overachieving asshole with a nice smile that could potentially enter her heart if she let him, but that should and would never happen. That’s who he is.

“Erika, I’ll tell your mom to ground you if we keep this conversation up.”

That seems to make her stop, grabbing her phone once again—and she knows the password, which is even worse, kids in this generation are geniuses—, before adding: “Does Peppa have a boy?”

“Oh my God, no!”

This will definitely be a long night.

###

His mind is blank. Absolutely blank. Lingerie for men is even more difficult than lingerie for women.

Jungwoo gives another walk on the stage, bleached blonde hair barely moving with each step he takes. He’s in the simple designs, the first launch of Silhouette, as bland as bland can get, and while his strut is fine, he can’t think of anything. Nothing that couldn’t be just a simple pair of boxer briefs thrown on a model. He could do that, but that’s so common, so plastered on paper. He wants to do something else, and yet, in the day of the photoshoot, he can’t think of anything.

“Why are you making me do this?” He met Jungwoo a few days ago, and he was actually quite surprised to recognize who he is. A runway model that has been around the world and all over fashion weeks. His dulcet personality and tall frame have gotten him somewhere, that’s for sure. “I should be already in my clothes and ready to take pictures.”

“I have nothing.” In the middle of the hotel’s ballroom, Jungwoo stops walking at the sound of Yoonoh’s voice. The designer looks down at his sketchbook, where he had made the drawing of a body similar to Jungwoo’s and still, nothing came to mind.

“…You have to have something.”

“A pair of black boxers.” He turns the sketchbook around just as Jungwoo slips a robe over his body and ties it securely. “Better than white boxer briefs, sexier, too. All the women I’ve been with likes them.”

“I won’t model that.” Jungwoo conquers, a lightweight laugh following after. “Those look like plain cotton boxers.”

“Well, I just don’t know what to design. Either I make you look tacky or I make you look bland. There is no in-between.”

“That bad?” Jungwoo questions, taking a seat next to him before grabbing a water bottle. “People are going to be here any minute. Everyone has decorated and I’m not sure my manager will be happy to hear that I came here just for nothing.”

A look is spared to the model, with Yoonoh shaking his head softly. He has to think of something. He can’t give Siyeon the benefit of seeing him tuck with a simple design.

His pencil taps against the drawing for a few seconds before he breathes out a few words: “You’re okay with being more covered?”

Conservative and elegant is more of what he has been aspiring for, with that peek of skin that makes the world go around. It’s what he has been drawing these days, but mostly with a muse in mind.

“Sure. I wasn’t over the moon thinking my ass was going to be out in the world.”

Yoonoh chuckles at that, turning the page around from the plain black boxers before sketching something else. “How about a crop top? With a fabric similar to a bralette, and you look better in red than you do in black.” He draws a diagonal line across the ribcage, making slitted long sleeves to showcase pieces of biceps, filling it up with the color red in a quick hassled manner that he will fix later. “Maybe some chains and garments around that wrap up to your waist.”

“I like that.” Jungwoo announces when looking over his shoulder.

“I’ll keep the black boxers. I still think they are classics, and I can talk to the management team to make them more than just cotton.” Yoonoh announces, soon after looking at the picture before clicking his tongue. “I think there’s something lacking.”

“Dunno. You’re the designer, but I’d wear this out of the runway.”

That’s something good, but Yoonoh is thinking of something else. People in real life transcending into their own confident version. That’s what he wants to portray. He draws a suit jacket draped over his shoulders, falling onto his long legs until it reaches midway through his calves, before sketching a pair of pants on the side. Loose, simple, highlighted in the waist.

“We could connect do something like…like suspenders. Office guy turns into midnight God.” Once again, he’s sketching. “You’d wear this, the crop top underneath but I have no idea how you’d show the boxers.”

“Make them low cut.” Jungwoo suggests, eyes trained on his phone momentarily when he crosses one leg over the other. “That way, the boxer’s band will be showing, and it will have Silhouette’s name there. I’d take off the jacket to show the statement piece.”

Yoonoh thinks about it, erasing the line at the waist before drawing the band, and his eyes glimmer at the image underneath him. Not as bad as he imagined it.

“Your ideas are good.”

“Thanks, I’m not just a pretty face.” Jungwoo jokes around, only standing up when the doors of the ballroom come open.

The theme of the photoshoot is simple. A party at the eighties, with beaming colors and disco balls. Darkened walls, confetti, everything has been added to highlight the idea Yoonoh had come up with. Nonetheless, his team is not the one barging in the room when the doors open, instead, he’s met with another darkened suit and a serious face that stares down at her agenda.

“Morning, people. I’m sorry I’m late. I was figuring out an issue at the penthouse, but I am here to help you with any form of decoration or with any question you may have.” The hotel manager stands there. Not that Yoonoh ever pondered they could not meet each other when he had specifically picked her hotel—he had walked through when entering the restaurant, and the three-stars help with the price, but the decorations are immaculate. Architecture its utmost beauty.

Now that he sees her, a smile spreads across his features. Maybe, a bit too soon—in a way that has him pushing it down because it is not possible to get that reaction out of him when it’s not faux. That woman had stood him up without even much of a reason, in the literal sense of the word, took those pretty legs away from the seat and walked away after they had been having fun.

He wore those leather pants. She owed him not leaving him in the middle of a restaurant with her meal and his to pay.

When she looks up at him, a few sentiments flash before her eyes, but he can’t guess any of them. He breathes out her name, capturing her off guard when she questions:

“You remember me?” Her voice is levelled as she moves forward, with a tinge of curiousness.

Yoonoh shrugs his shoulders in his fitted black sweater, paired with dark ripped jeans. “I wasn’t shitfaced. Just half-naked.”

That makes her frown deeply when she looks up at him again. “Don’t you dare say that out loud in front of anyone.” Soon after, she’s talking to Jungwoo. “I—Don’t listen to him. I’m the manager of this hotel and I have no business with this man.”

Jungwoo lifts his hands in the air. “None of my business, but please, do let me hear.”

He doesn’t know why it surprises him that Jungwoo likes gossip. “Why? You’re embarrassed of helping me out?”

“You’re saying it with double intentions.”

Yoonoh chuckles. “I wasn’t intending on anything the night we met.”

“Oh, come on.” She rolls her eyes, making him raise his eyebrows. That cynic voice in her is not something he expected. “We both know what kind of intentions you have with everyone. It seeps from you.”

“Seeps from me?”

“You had no issue going with some stranger after being kicked out of your…your hook up’s house and you were smiling and using those eyes on me and buddy,” She stops, a short laugh leaving her lips. Her index finger extends to point at him. “I’m not a charity case. I’m not in need of a man. I don’t need you to come around and cause me trouble, okay? If you’re here just to tease me instead of letting me do my job, then we’re off to a bad start.”

Offended is short for what he feels. Sure, he may not make a big deal out of hook ups, but it’s not like he’s the easiest man in the world. And if he was, why does she care?

“You’re the one talking about my eyes. I never made eyes at you.”

That makes her stop, holding her agenda to her chest before patting her ponytail in place. “Okay. Fine.”

“You just think you’re so much better than you, don’t you?” Yoonoh spites, crossing his arms across his chest, never once raising his voice.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, yes, you take care of your boss’ child. You’re so sweet and kind. So in synch with yourself you need no one’s company…” He trails off, pointing them out with the sharpness of his words. “That’s fine, but it’s not fine when you point fingers at people for being with other people. The twenty-first century is calling, they are here to say you can show someone your ankles without losing all sense of rightfulness.”

Scoffing, she shakes her head, a sarcastic smile appearing on her features. “Yoonoh, I know men like you.” She starts. The typical stance people have of him. Men like him. “You’re a…around with a bunch of women, and you use your good looks to your advantage, never care about anybody but you, never take anyone out on a date—”

He gets closer at that moment, lowering his eyes onto her lips before connecting them with hers. “…You wanted me to take you out on a date and that’s why you’re mad about me being a thot?”

“No!”

His hand reaches for one of her ears, laughing when he feels the heat. “Your ears are hot. Have something to tell me?”

“Where’s the person in charge of this photoshoot?” She slaps his hand away, turning to Jungwoo who has the biggest grin on his features.

“Oh, it’s him. The asshole Jung Yoonoh.” Jungwoo conquers with a flick of his finger before he expands his hands in front of them. “But please do continue. I love a good drama.”

“You?!” She gasps that word out as if it’s venom, a sharp intake coming after.

“Me.” Yoonoh retorts, a smirk appearing on his face. “And I happen to have lots of questions about this ballroom.”

He doesn’t, but he enjoys his next thirty minutes, trying to get the offense out of his body by having her carrying boxes—not heavy, but definitely bothersome when ordered by him—and giving her his phone number wrongly three times as she finished up the contract and the bill for the rent of the ballroom. Exasperation is short for what she feels, but as she’s working on that bill, he realizes something.

The shirt underneath her suit is a sunshine yellow, and he may change violet from the position of his desired color on her, because yellow makes her beam like never before. It gives her a powerful stance, standing out even in between seas of models posing around.

Though what she thinks of him has been a repetition of what he has heard before, somehow, he cares a little bit more when it comes from the one woman that has inspired him to do better with his designs. Not that she even cares about his position as a designer.

For her, he’s only another asshole who uses people to his will, and that’s only half correct.

###

“The sexual tension was so thick I had a hard time breathing. Seriously, it was like when I used to steal rated magazines when I was young!”

The maids cheer and giggle to themselves when Blue spits out another version of the story that she and Yoonoh supposedly wrote yesterday afternoon in the ballroom. She has to play with the lettuce of her sandwich, cheek squished against her palm as she watches Erika stare in between the seas of women, following after every reaction even when she doesn’t understand them.

“Blue, don’t say such words in front of Erika.” She tells them, biting on her densely sauce-coated sandwich, before breathing out softly. How could they think of Yoonoh as a dream when he’s obviously a womanizer dressed in sheep’s clothing?

Or the devil. He’s definitely the devil.

“Whatever.” Blue, in her eighties, moves the skirt of her gray uniform before picking up one of the maids. One of the youngest and the tallest, with a long black fringe and moon-bathed features. Chaewon, she thinks her name is. “He told her: ‘Need help with those boxes’?” She lowers her voice to be a faux deep vibrato. “And she said: ‘No, I can do it myself. Thank you.’” That time around, her voice lifts up.

“I don’t speak like that.”

“And then, he retorted by saying: ‘I know, but my arms are waiting to hold something. I think you’d rather it be boxes.’”

More screeches and giggles follow after that statement, and she rolls her eyes because he did say that.

Chaewon ends up being swooped over, rolled around in Blue’s hold before she’s cooing. “I was expecting him to lower her down and give her that kiss that she was definitely asking for with her gaze,” She imitates the actions by looking down at Chaewon. She’s an actress, even at such an old age. “She kept looking at his lips before she cut him off, and you had to say the way his eyes lingered on her…”

“Where was he looking?” One of the maids asks, organizing the towels in their little eating room when Blue lets of Chaewon to let her sit somewhere else.

“He wasn’t looking.” The manager defends, ears heated up…but because of the golden lights here, definitely.

“Everywhere! There was not a portion of her that he simply did not worship with his gaze alone. He wanted to ravish her like—”

More heat, and maybe, summer is coming around earlier than expected. “Blue, stop reading those romance books with naked men on the cover. They’re getting to you.”

Blue laughs at her antics, her curled gray hair jumping around when she takes a seat in front of her. She continues to bite on her sandwich. “Aw, come on, boss. You can’t expect us not to want to see you with that man.” She covers her mouth to lower her voice before whispering: “He’s sexy.”

“Jung Yoonoh is anything but that!” She defends, leaning back on her seat and trashing the last bit that was left of her sandwich. She opens her water bottle and gulps it quickly.

“Look at that heat!” One of the maids adds, and Chaewon nods in return. “How does he look like, Blue? He sounds like a dream.”

“Pecs over pecs over pecs. He had…” The oldest woman curves her hands in the air and the manager has to scoff.

“Stop thirsting over him.”

“His girlfriend over there will get jealous but you had to see that sweater on him. That man is lean and had the sweetest, prince-like face. But not the kind of prince that wants you for his kingdom, having you wearing proper dresses and greeting the crowd.” She stops for a second, thick silence lingering in the air before she adds. “But the kind of prince that sneaks you into the castle to show you ever room—”

“More sexualization, great.” Her knees buckle when she picks Erika up from her spot in between the maids. “I have a meeting with the valet team. You better stop talking about this if you don’t want me to talk with Sachiko about your disrespect towards our clients.”

She opens the door when Erika wraps her arms around her neck, turning around to wave to the maids. “Bye!”

“Bye-bye, honey!” Blue waves back, returning to the crowd to say: “And his hair—”

She has to close the door with a bang as a huff leaves her lips. Everything has been about Jung Yoonoh these days, but what is the sudden obsession to have her paired up with someone who will definitely shatter her to pieces?

Every thought about him shall be erased as soon as possible now that he has finished with his photoshoot. She won’t hear about Jung Yoonoh ever again.

###

“And then, she went on to call me a man-whore or something. Practically drawing me as the biggest scumbag to ever exist.”

It’s way over nine at night when he finally has the time to check over what the manufacturing team had done with the design that he had sketched for Jungwoo. He still needed to take his pictures for the event, asking the graphic design team to help him out with the deadline, but that’s the least of his worries. Johnny is by his side, lost in his phone as he listened to his story, being his support for another all-nighter.

He unfolds the blood red fabric of the crop top and smiles in delight. Fitted, with slits that could pierce well into the subject of edge, and some chains dangling in elegant curves towards the waist, with Swarovski diamonds in between. He continues to look through the pieces, pants and jacket as well, when he hears Johnny speaking up.

“She’s not wrong.” He says, still engraved on his phone. “You’re a bit of an ass and you haven’t been in a serious relationship ever since I met you. Even before that, you have been single and into hook-ups. Why are you bothered?”

“Because I am not like that. I don’t have the time to embark in a relationship, okay?” Yoonoh mutters out, placing the jacket down on the table to look at it more precisely. “She has this…this air of arrogance of thinking she’s better than me. I don’t know, like…she just thinks I am some kind of douchebag that gets to her nerves—”

“Yet, still you sketch her.” That is the moment he hears the pages of his sketchbook being flickered at. Yoonoh widens his eyes, turning around to close it just as he says:

“Let go of that!”

“They’re pretty. Don’t be a nerd about it.” Once again, Johnny has taken the sketchbook, turning around to keep it away from his hold. “Are you into BDSM or something? People talking down on you? Women hating you so badly that they are kinda into you?”

Hate. That word is enormous, and he wouldn’t like to use it when plotting what she feels for him. Strong dislike, let’s go with that. “I’m not.” He denies all allegations. “…You just have to see her.”

“Ass or tits?”

“Not that.” Yoonoh feels his own cheeks heating up as a smile takes over his features. Not that he had gotten to see a lot with how baggy her suits are, but attractive is short for how he would describe her. “It’s in the way she holds herself. She’s the quiet kind of powerful. With everyone, she is kind and understanding, and yet, her action speak louder than she does. She’s independent and doesn’t let anyone else help her, even if she’s over the top with assignments and—”

“And it kind of sounds like you’re paying a little too much attention to her.” Johnny closes the sketchbook at that moment, quirking an eyebrow at his friend. “What’s with you, Yoonoh?”

The man scoffs, shaking his head. “Nothing. Just saying. I’m so angry that she’s like that, I just—”

“No, you’re not angry. Real angry Yoonoh? It’s the kind of Yoonoh we see with Siyeon. Not this one, talking about how he loves someone’s kindness.” His eyes trail over to his sketchbook, then to the design for Jungwoo before he’s ripping one page out and jotting down a message for the manufacturing team. It’s alright, he just wants a few more diamonds. “Come on, man. Talk about it. Mama Seo used to say there are no secrets in this household.”

“What do you want me to say?” Annoyance seeps from his voice when he looks over his shoulder. “Yes, I was interested. Yes, I guess we kind of flirted. Yes, she still ran away and yes, she absolutely despises my guts?”

“…She blew you off.” Johnny says that as if it’s the biggest announcement in the world.

Yoonoh shrugs. “Yeah, so what? It’s not like I asked her or made it known—”

“For the first time in his life, Jung Yoonoh didn’t get blown, he got blown off!”

“Johnny, it’s not funny—”

“I have to see who this woman is.” Johnny gets his phone out of his pocket, opening his Instagram app before he’s lurking for her. “What’s her name?”

Maybe, curiousness got the best of him when he stands behind Johnny, looking over his shoulder when he rasps out her name.

“There we have her.” His friend announces just as he clicks on the first account. “Private. I can’t really see her face in the profile picture.” It’s the silhouette of a woman, most likely her, in a sunset. Her hands are fisted deep in her pockets and she must be looking at the sun. “Should I message her? Something like: ‘Hi, if you don’t want to date Yoonoh, I’m single and the second-best option’?”

He’s joking around, yet, Yoonoh stares longingly at that picture. Something about her is so lukewarm that he finds himself at peace. He has always liked everything scalding hot—his relationships, his hook-ups, his meals, even the days that he spends at the beach, but now, he is interested in silence and tranquilness. In that lukewarm nature that comes within her, never too cold, never too hot.

“No.” His voice sounds unused when he finally speaks up. “Leave her be.”

Johnny’s eyes inspect his features. “Dude…there is really something about her, isn’t it?”

“I’ll never know, I guess.” Yoonoh finalizes, shrugging his shoulders before moving towards the edge of the room and turning off the lights. “Let’s go, I’m starving.”

###

“I won’t take a bath! I don’t want to!”

Five days from Sachiko’s arrival and she already feels like breaking. Breaking down or breaking out of her home, one or the other. Erika screams at the top of her lungs while rushing out of the bathroom, still very much in her pajamas, to sit down in front of her TV and watch another cartoon.

She throws the towel over her shoulder, eyes half-closing from tiredness when she breathes out softly and approaches her again. “Erika, get in the bath. It’ll be quick.”

The little girl shakes her head, hugging her knees to her chest. “I don’t want to.”

“Sometimes, I don’t want to either, but you have to.” She announces, taking a seat next to her to run her fingers through her hair. “Come on, Eri, it’s just a bath.”

“Nope.” The little girl mumbles, growing more annoyed by the second.

“You’ll stink. You don’t want anyone to smell your scent if it’s bad.”

“It’s okay.”

“Someone will come visit us.” She doesn’t know why that’s the first excuse she comes up with. Truth be told, none of her friends live in this city, and her family are nowhere near either. Loneliness is something she is used to, and she doesn’t like being the house’s host all that much, either. “And you really like them, so we need to bathe you before they come.”

Erika raises her eyebrows, a big smile appearing on her face: “Peppa?”

“No, not Peppa.” From the back of her mind, she can’t think of anybody who will come here that Erika really likes. She’s not entirely obsessed with Blue, and the woman is too old to take a taxi here. She is not sure who Erika likes apart from her…and Sachiko is not here. “Ah…” Think, think, think. “Yoonoh, my…uh…my boyfriend. He’s coming over.”

The title makes her cringe, but Erika stands up in her couch, hair wild and little fists connecting to her shirt when she says: “He’s coming! You didn’t tell me!”

“Oh, I was just waiting for you to take a bath first.” She tries to sound smart, but this is the worst idea she could have. Sure, she saved his number when she was making that bill for the rented ballroom, but that has been about it. Never texted him, never planned to, much less to tell him to come over and pretend to be her boyfriend just so Erika takes a goddamned shower.

“I will! Hurray!” Erika moves away from the couch, rushing over to take off her clothes.

“I’ll go fill up the bathtub in a sec, okay?”

“Yes!”

This is the worst idea she has ever had.

By the time she hears the door to the guest room closing, she sighs deeply, going over to the kitchen to unplug her phone and look down at her contact list. Her heart is racing, eyebrows frowned in worry when she sees it in glimmering lights:

Jung Yoonoh (Never Respond. Not Even If You’re Dying).

She’s not dying, but she definitely feels like it.

Whenever she got a cut as a kid and she put a band-aid on it, she took the band-aid off in one harsh tug. It’d rip some hairs apart, but it wouldn’t hurt—it wouldn’t make her hesitate as much as she did. This is one of those decisions that need to be done that way; as if she’s drunk and she needs to call her ex, or as if buying that dress that she’ll never wear sounds like a good idea today.

The phone rings a few times and she paces back and forth in the kitchen, giving a few puffs out and jumping in place before she hears it.

“Hello?”

His voice is to die for. One of those melodies that anyone wants to hear when they are waking up, mumbling sweet nothings, promising whatever the hell sounds great at the time, and it’s so dangerous that it has her closing her eyes, trying to fight a shiver and not exactly of anxiousness.

“Yoonoh, I need your help.”

A bead of silence follows soon after, and it comes as a surprise when he mumbles her name. She hums in return. “Why are you calling me? How do you have my phone?”

“Don’t ask.” She tells him, about to start her rant when Yoonoh cuts her off with a deep chuckle.

“You stole it from my bill.”

Caught, yet, she places a hand on her waist. “I wanted to save it just in case you decided to call me and make my day more difficult.”

“Oh, if I called you, it’d be to ease any kind of stress.” He purrs out, making her groan out loud when a lighter laugh from him comes about. “What can I help you with, ice princess?”

“Stop it with the names.”

“Boss?”

“I said—”

“Stop it with the names, I know. I will.”

When there is another pause, she knows she can speak, so she does. “…Erika believes we are in a relationship.” He doesn’t scream at the idea or laugh straight at her face, so she sighs. “And she’s also like madly connected to you. Seriously, she never stops talking about you and how you were so cool and whatnot. She only agreed to bathing now that I told her my…” She clears her throat. Shit, this is awkward. “My boyfriend is coming to visit, but you’re my supposed boyfriend and you’re nowhere around. I was wondering if you could come over, I don’t know, for like thirty minutes and then leave, just to fulfill that promise.”

Another elongated silence comes soon after, but it’s followed by a hum from Yoonoh.

“You didn’t say we were friends,” He teases, and she rolls her eyes at his antics. “You still went on with the boyfriend thing. Something you want to tell me?”

“Erika thinks we are together.”

“Erika meaning you.”

“I would personally sew my lips if we were to be in a relationship, Yoonoh.”

He chuckles, though she hears some moving. “Why? You’d want to make out with me so badly that you would want to stop yourself?”

“You wish.”

“Kinda.” Yoonoh confesses and it sounds like a pin falling to the floor. It makes her anxious, because the idea of being trapped in his arms, mouths molding into each other, breaths mixing, tongue intertwining is not so bad when in theory. “So, where do you live?”

“You’re coming?”

“Yeah, but in like forty-five.”

With that, she gives him the address, only to hear Yoonoh breathing into the microphone.

“So, my dear girlfriend, my beloved future wife,” Those dramatics that come with him make her want to slice him in half, but she keeps on just for Erika. “…How long have we been together, exactly?”

“…Since my headaches started coming daily.” She responds, hearing pattering in the hallway. “Call me when you’re here, okay?”

Once she hangs up, she sees Erika ready for a bath by the kitchen’s door, waving her hands in the air.

“Let’s go!”

Kids are nightmares.

###

Epoch hats don’t fit him well, Yoonoh realizes as he sits on a little stool that barely can hold his weight, knees practically touching his chest as he plays tea-house with Erika and her babysitter. Or well, her mom’s worker that happens not to know how to say no.

Erika had gone over the top to make this a grand event, the Peppa Pig plushie he had brought with him when entering the apartment seated in front of Erika, while he stares ahead at the woman that has his mind a complete mess. She is wearing a pair of wings on her shoulders, and her clothing is different, still not letting him see much, but the baggy t-shirt and sweatpants still fit her nicely.

The roles are simple. Erika is the princess, and they are their Aunt and Uncle. Peppa Pig is her sister, and that’s about as much as he knows as he sips on the two-point-five milliliters of water with lemon that Erika dares call tea.

“More tea, please.” Yoonoh says when placing the small cup down and looking at the woman ahead of him. She is the one serving the tea, yet, she quirks an eyebrow at him.

“That’s your fourth cup.” She explains, shaking her head when he tries to reach for the tea. “You’ve already had enough. You’re doing it just to see me serving you.”

“While the sight is adorable, beautiful, this cup is the size of my pinky. I can’t even feel it going down my throat.” He waves the little cup in his pinky before trying to reach for the tea again. “I’ll serve myself if it makes you feel better.”

“You’re too sweet-mouthed…” She looks over at Erika, inspecting them with interest. “Sugarplum.”

“Sugarplum?” Yoonoh questions the nickname, pouring himself a cup of tea when snatching it from her hands before leaning his weight forward, taking a sip that has him downing the entire drink. “I’m not sweet, don’t know if you’re noticed.”

“Quite clearly.”

“May change my ways for you if you stop judging me.” His eyes trail over her features, the culprit of his playfulness spreading across his face.

“Oh, I happen to be very judgmental.”

“Get to know me,” He waves his finger on top of the cup, tracing the outline only to see her gulp soon after. “…I promise the last thing you’ll end up doing is hating me.”

Erika stands up in between the two, her little hands spreading on their chests when she says: “Princes and princesses don’t fight.”

“We’re not fighting, Eri.” She tells her, though she sends a glare his way. “Right, sugarplum?”

“Of course, beautiful.” He uses that same nickname, relishing on the way she seems to be seething at the name. Truth be told, he knows that she’s, at least, a bit attracted to him…but whatever is stopping her must be strong enough to have her stopping on her tracks that first night. His lips wrap up in a kiss he sends flying in the air before adding: “We actually love each other. My kingdom is now better because I have found my truest love.”

“Yeah…” She trails, looking over to the side before she takes a sip of her own tea. “How’s the collection going?”

That question surprises him. She must have supposed he was a designer, much more after all he did in her hotel, but he didn’t think she was paying attention from up close.

“It’s not a collection.” Sweetly, he corrects, voice lowered when he puts the cup down. “I—I’m only working on this one fit. An outfit. We design lingerie, as you could see. I’m normally in the women design department, but my boss which is an absolute…” He stops, looking at Erika. “Witch, changed me to the men’s department just to freak up my head.”

A small chuckle trips out of her lips at the choices of his cusses. “So, you were designing Jungwoo’s fit?”

“Precisely.” Yoonoh takes his phone out of his pocket before displaying something only for her to see. “Erika, you can’t see this. It’s…it’s not something you should be seeing, okay?”

And actually, she listens. Yoonoh can’t understand why she says that Erika never listens to anybody. Her eyes trail over to Jungwoo, and the way they scan up and down have something within him tugging his phone away.

“That’s my design.”

“You’re talented.” Those words shouldn’t weight as much as they do, but he hasn’t heard them in a while. Perhaps, in two years. “If only you weren’t so much of a butt-face whenever we speak, I’m sure that part of you would show through.”

“What part of me?”

“The part that doesn’t try to hide that you care.”

That’s the moment Yoonoh backs away, because he shouldn’t care. It’s easier to go through life without caring about the people around you. The small stool falls behind him just as he stands up, clearing his throat after a harsh swallow.

“I have to go.”

Erika stands up as well, eyes widened. “Is it because she called you butt-face?”

Yoonoh chuckles, ruffling her hair with one hand. “No, I—I think I left my stove on at home.”

He hears the sound of her picking up her keys, nodding in the process. “I’ll walk you there. Don’t worry. Erika, stay here.”

The hallway that leads to her door is far too cramped for the two of them, his shoulders brushing with hers as they walk alongside each other. The part of you that doesn’t try to hide that you care; it’s not like he cares about her past the normalcy of two people who happen to be attracted towards each other buy deny it—

He turns around, his chest expanding with each breath that she takes, oxygens mingling when he looks down at her features, those lips that he would have kissed if granted the permission, but instead he asks:

“Is that why you hate me?”

She doesn’t listen, a deer caught in the headlights when she questions: “What?”

“Because you think I don’t care. Is that why you hate me?” He questions, only to have her shaking her head. His fingers hook a strand of her hair behind her ear, feeling the heat of her skin, much like that one time he had touched it.

“I don’t hate you.” She confesses, honest and yet surprising, before she breathes out in a shudder. “…Sometimes, it’s better to not wonder, Yoonoh. Not be curious about people like you. Not because you’re bad, but because you’re not right, either.” She shrugs her shoulders. “Stop looking at my lips, it distracts me.”

Yoonoh trails his eyes up before engulfing the words in his plush lips. “And what about you?” He questions. “If I’m all types of wrong, what are you?”

“All the different types of wrong that aren’t yours.” She says, just as his chest brushes with her own again, her stomach extending, back bending, body molding closer to his just because of electricity and gravity, she opens the door, releasing a breath that feels like a million pounds of weight. “Good night, Yoonoh, and thank you.”

He nods, and while he wants to return the words, he can’t.

###

Four Years Ago.

She never came back.

Sometimes, Yoonoh felt stupid for believing that there was someone in the other side of the computer. That said chatroom that had once started as complete curiousness had now turned into something else, tangible, present in his every day. He was young, his eyes wandered, his mind stopped thinking about the importance of his future and he thought that Dami was it. The woman of his dreams, the picture that he couldn’t take out of his head when he laid still at night and looked at his ceiling.

His friends made fun of him, because this is not the Jung Yoonoh that had gotten secret notes during Valentine’s Day in high school with love confessions and promises of marriage. This was a young man, seated in front of a computer, waiting for an answer. Waiting for the day she returned, after she said that she’d come back. It was only supposed to be a lunch break, but with no contact other than this chatroom, than what they had in social media, how was he supposed to get in touch with her?

JJH1997: Hey, did I do something wrong? (Three weeks ago.)

JJH1997: Hello! How are you doing? Are you okay? (Three weeks ago.)

JJH1997: I bought that one record you told me about. (One day and a half ago.)

JJH1997: [Picture Attached]. (One day and a half ago.)

JJH1997: Are you mad? (Thirteen hours ago.)

JJH1997: I’m sorry if I offended you. (One hour ago.)

The reply he got soon after, as he was studying for one of his finals, had him widening his eyes. She had not answered in weeks, this was the best news he could hear—

DAMISONG96: This is her husband. Who are you? (Just Now).

His hands shook, trying to find the words to say. Husband. All this time, he had been talking about a future with someone with a husband…

DAMISONG96: I’ve just read your messages. Stop talking to my wife, you fucking kid.

[This contact has blocked you].

The worst part was that he could never know if it was a catfish, if the person he talked about was real…or, actually, that he could never apologize, perhaps for ruining a marriage that he never knew of.

Love doesn’t come easy when you don’t know how to trust.

###

The reason why he became a lingerie designer instead of any other kind of designer is because of the subtlety. His friends think that it is because of the obvious love Yoonoh has for the human body, but as he sits on the front row of his own show, staring at the Silhouette designs his team had worked on, with harsh white lights matching the upbeat and bass-boosted songs that have models swinging their hips from side to side, he feels proud and more.

Jungwoo is the next one to come, and all signs of his beam is long forgotten as he struts down that runway. At first, he does it simply, how he’s taught, the buttons of his jacket are done, undoing them as he walks to showcase the crop top underneath, only pulling it down and turning around to throw the jacket aside and show the top and the chains, along with Silhouette’s name on the band of his boxers. It’s perhaps something not seen in the streets, but he can imagine celebrities falling in love with the design.

He’s concentrated on the faces of the people ahead of him, cheers resounding around the air as Jungwoo finishes off his catwalk. The invitees seem to be overjoyed, and just when a smile creeps up his features, fixing his stance in his tailored black suit, he feels a hand spreading on his thigh, a chuckle being breath out in his ear.

“You’ve done a great job, Yoonoh.” Siyeon speaks with certainty, and to anyone, they are just two friends congratulating each other. He does great work in feigning a smile when turning to her, but what he says is not so kind.

“Thank you. I’m known for that.”

“I know…if we don’t compare that to your organization problems and your endless witty mouth.” Siyeon starts clapping when another model comes around before a beam appears on her features.

Something doesn’t feel right.

“…And what about it?”

Siyeon’s long silver earrings move when she turns to him, quirking an eyebrow in the process. “Well, you see, Yoonoh, the reason why I wanted you to craft a showstopper and to leave with a bang is because…” The acids in his stomach go up, nervousness creeping up on him, trying to keep the dimples there to no avail. “You’re no longer going to be part of our team. Out of all the designs you’ve done, this is your best, but you proved yourself right a little too late. Sorry.”

She’s not sorry, and he knows this. The smile that he has fought so hard to keep there is no longer of his interest as he stands up, pointing at her while scowling.

“You can’t do that.”

“Yoonoh, you’re making a scene.” She tries to chuckle through her words.

“I’ve been working for this fucking company for two years and I haven’t slacked once.”

“Says you,” Siyeon shrugs. “I’m in charge, Yoonoh, and I saw you’re slacking.”

“Fuck you.”

“Have heard that before.”

The air around him engulfs him in a way that almost makes him feel like he’s trapped. He’s out of the expensive hotel Siyeon had found in seconds, but yet, he feels like he has run a marathon. His eyes concentrate anywhere, hand coming up to his chest, his dream shattered when trying to give this company another chance—

The night whisks him in the face as he runs, not caring to grab a taxi, not minding that he feels like his life is falling down…because this is stupid. Life is so fucking ironic that he hates it. He trusts people? He ends up losing. He doesn’t trust them? They never believe him.

What’s the realest way to get a happy ending? He’ll never know.

###

Eight hours of sleep feel marvelous once she gets them back.

Not only has she gotten to return her calls, but it doesn’t smell like baby food in her apartment and she gets to take a break from Peppa Pig. Erika had been sad when letting go of her, pressing her face to her stomach in a hug before she was off to holding onto her mother for dear life. Her paycheck came around, life was good, and this night was excellent with the bag of savory chips she had just opened.

The crunch is the only thing that can be heard, mingling with the noise of the romantic movie she is watching, tears wielding her vision and yet, she pushes them away. Tragedies are the best form of romance—when both characters have gone through so much that finding happiness in each other feels a thousand times more personal. Perfect, even. It’s a nice chance for her romantic comedy binge from earlier.

The air is interrupted when she hears someone ringing her doorbell, and that brings a frown to her features. First, she’s not waiting for anybody. Secondly, she had been crying just now. Grabbing a napkin, she taps it against her ears and waltzes over to the door to see who is standing by the door through the peephole.

And if there was a sight that could capture her breath away just as much as it could make her be excited about something, it’s this.

Yoonoh stands outside her door, with the buttons of his shirt half-opened, a peak of his shirt showing, his jacket thrown haphazardly over one forearm, and if only this peephole let her see lower, she would relish on the strength of his thighs. Confusing or not, as well as a bit annoying, one can’t deny that Yoonoh is extremely handsome. Taken out of a magazine, even.

She opens the door softly, unaware of why he is there. Today, the runway for Silhouette should be happening and yet, he’s here, at 10:45 at night, with his hair made a mess and his eyes trailing on her.

“Yoonoh,” He doesn’t stop looking at her eyes, a frown in his features. “Hi…uh…may I help you with something?”

“You’re right.” He starts, entering her house just as she moves to the side. He must be in a rush. The door closes behind her. “I try not to care about things. I don’t take relationships seriously. I’m an asshole at most times. I’m fake and boring and quite clearly, all kinds of wrong.” Well, that is a statement. She knows there is some good for Yoonoh. He’s always one call away, he’s organized, he’s given. He’s strong and rampant and fiery, in that way that have people shuddering in their spots.

“So?”

“So, yes, I’m fucking tired of being that because it doesn’t work.” He stands in front of her now, in that same hallway that had trapped them weeks ago and had managed to make her even more confused. “I just lost my job and I don’t know what the hell I am going to do with my life. I was used and—fuck!”

Her heart weights down when he admits that. “Why would you lose your job? That outfit you designed for Jungwoo is amazing…”

“Because my new boss hates me, just like you do.”

“I said I didn’t hate you.”

“Then why?” Yoonoh questions. “Why did you run away that night? What about me is so repulsive that you can’t even look my way without frowning when all I have been thinking about since that moment I saw you in the restaurant, in nice light, after getting me some clothes, is that you’re the kindest and most humble woman I have ever met and I would do my fucking best to kiss away every fucking insecurity you have about me?”

Silence comes to be awkward around them. Or, well, filled with tension. But this silence is of understanding. Yoonoh’s eyes that night, that had scanned her with such intricacy, had thought about the same things that she did. And yet, she had let it slide—because it’s easier to fear than to try, to run away than to stay.

“Because…you’re difficult, Yoonoh.” She states. “And I don’t mean it in a bad way. I just know…I know I would like you.” That makes her ego blot down the slightest. “And then, when you realize that kissing me is not enough, that waking up to me is not enough, that I won’t give you whatever interesting shit you were doing when I found you outside that house, you’ll leave…and I’m not at an age or time in my life where I want to see you leave without an explanation. I don’t.”

He finally reconnects his gaze with her eyes. “The explanation here is simple,” He conquers. “You’re beautiful. Each part of you I get to see and each part I don’t. Every bit of my imagination can only think about you, so much that everything I design is everything my mind gushes about and can only perceive on you. It’s stupid enough that…” He chuckles at his own antics, leaning his head back on the wall. “That I think about what color fits you best and I am certain it’s not the navy blue you like to use. It’s yellow, because you’re so bright it practically burns my fucking eyes. You’re so smart and given and you don’t even let me tell you that, because you’re always…pushing me away.”

“Yoonoh—” Her heart flutters at his words, but he doesn’t stop talking.

“And you’re your own kind of goddess and it drives me insane, because I was the type of dumbass that didn’t like the chase, but each and every time I hear you speak, I just want to tease you more and…” He stops for a second, finally fixing his position to look at her. “I just wanted you to know, because if I’ll never get a chance, at least I want to say I—”

Silences are what made them. It’s what she likes the most about him, when he’s silent and concentrated, when all his might goes to one thing and one thing only. She doesn’t know what overtakes her at that moment, when her lips clash against his in a dance that it’s much too passionate. She can’t keep up with whatever she wants to do, her hands hooked around his waist to mold him against the wall, his abdomen carved against hers when a groan traps itself on the back of his throat and he grabs the back of her head, taking more of her in, granting himself entrance, rubbing his lips in a tempting touch before he’s diving in for air…and she’s his oxygen.

Yoonoh’s hold is not strong, overly passionate, tumbling. In his own way, Yoonoh is delicate. It’s just when she kisses him that she realizes there is a beautiful thing to Jung Yoonoh. The delicacy he portrays in lingerie, that translate into his utter fears. The pristine glass he is when she caresses his neck with a touch of her mouth and he shudders while grasping the back of her shirt, asking to see her—to be seen.

When heartbreak happens, there is always a dot. That one finalization of a chapter in your heart that aches insufferably. Her dots connected to him, in one way or another, in the moles in his face or the way he begs to connect to her lips again when she pulls away. He’s gravity when she asks to be taken to her room in one simplistic glance and he’s smiling by the time he puts her down on the sheets.

Over all, Yoonoh is a lover of beauty, and maybe, for once in her life, she feels like art, just when he throws her shirt over her head, staring down at small portions of her body being shown before showing that dimple that she had trained herself to hate.

But who is she kidding? She didn’t hate it at all.

“…You were forbidding me of this.” He points at her body, earning laughter from her, ears heated up under his gaze. “And for that, I’ll never forgive you.”

That night, it’s not a promise of love—it’s lust mixed with something else, that fluttering feeling of having a crush, maybe, or the start of something…how he calls it…beautiful.

###

Normally, Yoonoh doesn’t text. He hooks up with someone, leaves it in the air, then moves on to working. Awakening in his lover’s bed, having breakfast with her, arguing in that way that only they know how to do—playfully, of course—and then having to see him himself off just so she can go to work, however, is completely different.

Just as he lays on his bed midway through the day, he looks at her contact. Missing her would be a statement, and it would be absolutely correct. His gut twists, not knowing exactly what to say—new and yet old in this dating thing.

Uh, can he call it that? They haven’t even gotten out on a date.

Yoonoh: We haven’t gotten out on a date.

Yoonoh: Do you want to?

She must be near the phone, because she replies quickly.

Beautiful: If I slept with you, I obviously want to go on a date with you.

Beautiful: Duh.

There is the bite that he likes, enough to bring a smile to his face before he’s biting down on his lip.

Yoonoh: You didn’t sleep with me when I was employed, wearing suits, confident and flirty. Your standards? Very low.

Beautiful: You’re complaining? Because I could not do it again.

Yoonoh: Who said I was complaining? I was trying the whole time and just when I’m a huge loser, I get the girl.

His life seems to be twisted in circles, cycles that he don’t know how to stop, but a text from her gives him hope that he’ll figure it out.

Beautiful: You’re not a loser. I don’t date losers.

Beautiful: Dinner tonight? I brought a sandwich, but that’s bland.

Yoonoh: It’s a date.

A few seconds pass by before he’s typing again.

Yoonoh: Wait, how do you have me saved in your phone?

A screenshot comes soon after, and he doubles over in laughter when he sees ‘Sugarplum (DNI)’.

###

She has forgotten how to say it, and it’s not like it’s another language, but nervousness clads her every pore just as she sits down by a table at Erika’s seventh birthday party.

Five months into this dating thing, and she doesn’t understand most of it. What she knows is that it feels great. Waking up next to Yoonoh—her place or his—, being kissed on the cheeks, on her forehead, only to be ravished by one of those kisses that he only knows how to give. To watch him grow away from his fears and create his own lingerie line, obviously with the support of his model friends that were eager to take pictures with his pieces and make do with what they have.

It’s difficult, but just as Yoonoh lowers Erika after hoisting her up in the air, always charming with her and with anyone, she doesn’t know how to say it. You know, those three words that have captured her ever since Yoonoh smiled at all her baby pictures, or when he spends some extra time in the kitchen making her favorite meal just because he feels like pampering her.

Three words that she has said before, even jokingly, and yet, she’s petrified.

The trees are tall in the backyard of Sachiko’s home, yellows and reds contrasting the feeling in her heart. It’s pure pink, just like the glow on Yoonoh’s cheeks or that set he had once sewed himself just for her, the one that he never gets enough of and still groans at. Childish music and cake should be enough to calm her down, but just as Yoonoh plops himself alongside her, resting his head on his forearm on the picnic table she’s by, all words she had practiced are lost.

How does he have that effect after five months?

“Erika loved the gift.” Even their gifts had been united. From Uncle Prince and Aunt Princess, they had written on the note. A doll that she had been screaming about months ago when they had visited her.

That word, even he is saying it. If Jung Yoonoh is capable of spitting it out, why couldn’t she—?

“You look like you’re sick.”

That makes her sigh. “Thanks. I don’t see you complaining.”

Yoonoh’s smile grows wider at that, rolling a piece of her hair in between his index finger. “I like the sick look.” He replies. “Something about the sight of a girl who wants to throw up on me. So sexy I could take you to a bathroom right now and just—”

“Yoonoh!”

“There it is, not so sick anymore. Now you’re angry.” He has his ways, she has to admit, and even when finds herself laughing when he changes that glimmer of his eyes that always gets him what he wants. “What’s with you?”

She opens her mouth, placing a piece of cake inside of it—just a little bit too big—when she says: “I love you.”

Or whatever can be understood in between a mouthful of cake.

Yoonoh quirks a perfectly styled brow. “You what?”

“I love you.” She utters out, swallowing soon after before giving him a smile. “Okay, alright, I’m done here—”

His hands gravitate to her hips before she could stand up, sitting her down on his thigh and bringing her face to his by her chin before asking, much too close and too softly for her to ever resist him. “You what?” He repeats, much more delicately, and finally, she finds the reason to stop being nervous.

Those brown eyes look from her eyes to her lips, never getting enough of her, never knowing how to battle the thoughts that show on his features. That kind of adoration she has never gotten before, and that is worth trying for.

She hides her face in his neck, breathing in his scent before spitting out: “I love you.”

It brushes against his skin, tickles him in a way that has him tightening his hold before he replies: “Sounds so good when someone means it.” And that confession is only meant for her to be understood, before he’s pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “I love you, too.”

#jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun #nct scenarios #nct #kpop scenarios #writing #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #jaehyun au #nct fluff #nct angst #nct au

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adelheidvonschicksal · 3 years

Note

Gosh, the Hawks x intern! Reader sure made me tear up :(

Like imagine him regretting not being there for her and his baby girl from the start and trying to make up for it now 😭😭💖

I was going to imagine this, but I couldn't because I ended up writing 3000 words. 😭 I just love fictional babies so much and want them to be happy, okay? I left it open-ended, so I wouldn't betray the "kick his ass" gang. I'm a weak woman 🥺 I still don't know much about him other than what Wikipedia and memes tell me but here we go!

Part One | Part Two

Hawks doesn’t think you’ll ever let him in, not that he could blame you. Every time you see him, your expression hardens, pretty eyes narrow into a glare, nostrils flare, breathing heavy. His only bright light during your last exchange is that you wait three seconds before slamming the door in his face rather than the usual zero.

Oh, he’s definitely softening you up. Not.

It’s been a month now that he’s been at this, and he is starting to wonder if this entire thing is worth the headache. All he’s accomplished so far is bothering you with his requests to talk. Then, he remembers the little angel that you have with you and thinks it’s worth the headache.

At first, he had ignored your previous exchange that day at the park and the nagging feeling in the corner of his mind upon seeing the two of you. Until that same feeling started to weigh on his heart. He quickly realizes what those feelings were. Guilt and regret at not taking another path with the high schooler he so carelessly took advantage of and impregnated.

If he had, he could be annoying Endeavor about his cute little wife right about now.

Hawks feels a bit like Icarus flying too close to the sun and now sinking in a turbulent ocean of his own making. Instead of drowning, the world decides to throw him a lifeline as the receptionist patches a call through to him.

His heart jumps when he hears you on the other side, resistant but succumbed in your plea, “I need your help.”

The very next day you arrive at the agency, a small hand latched in your own as you stand in the middle of his office. You didn’t want to be here. The thought of being in the same place where your daughter was conceived with the same man who left you makes you antsy. You can’t believe you actually let Fumikage talk you into this.

You remember that phone conversation.

Your daughter’s quirk had been coming in full force, so fast you didn’t know how to handle it. You hoped that Tokoyami would have been able to help her control it since he trained with the very person she received her quirk from much longer than you had and that he was part avian himself.

“Please, Fumi. It’s getting worse,” you begged over the phone. “She accidentally hurt a few of the kids at school. No. No. They’re fine, some cuts and a little shook up, but fine. They won’t let her back in until she gets it under control though, so please.”

“I told you there’s not much else I can do. The best solution would be to go to the person with the same quirk.”

He’s right. He’s absolutely right, but you don’t want to rely on someone like that man especially now. What if he ended up hurting her?

“I don’t want to do that.”

“I know you don’t, but he’s been trying to contact you, right? So I'm sure he'd do it if you asked.”

“Yeah…” You growled. “I swear if he makes one smart-ass remark, I might kill him in front of her.”

“Remember it’s not for you. Although, I don’t think you could kill him even if you tried.”

“If we combined our strength…”

“No,” Tokoyami immediately shot down.

You sighed. “I’m only joking. Do you have the number to the agency still?”

Now you’re here, watching the very man who abandoned you kneel down to your daughter’s eye level. Hawks couldn’t believe he’s actually seeing her. It’s a bit exciting to see how much bigger she’s gotten in such a short time with big fat wings at her back holding way more feathers than she can probably deal with.

“So, this is the special girl,” he says. She shies away from him, hiding behind your leg for protection. “Come on out, Baby Bird, you don’t have to be scared of me.”

Slowly, she peeks from behind you, fingers still clutched in your pants leg, and Hawks smiles.

“There you are. Did your mommy tell you who I am?”

“You’re her and uncle Toko’s old teacher, and you’re going to help me control my quirk.”

“That’s right. You just turned five, right? That’s when a lot of quirks can get kind of hectic.”

“Yeah. I had a birthday party with Elsa last month.”

Hawks’ smile falters for a second as he thinks he doesn’t know exactly what day her birthday is. At least now he knows the month. Quickly, he’s back to normal to keep an air of happiness in the situation. “You know I know a lady that looks a bit like Elsa. She has ice powers like her too,” Hawks says, having grown a little closer to the number one hero's family as he tried to figure out what to do about his own family situation.

When her eyes widen, Hawks knows he has her hook, line, and sinker. She throws her initial shyness to the wind in exchange for excitement. “She does? Can I meet her?”

“I’m sure we could make that happen. If not, her son has an ice quirk, too. I’m sure he’d show you.”

The young girl smiles at him, but Hawks notices her vision drifting to something else. Cautiously, her tiny hand stretches out to him, making him nervous as to what she’s doing, before chubby fingers clutch around the edge of his wing, squeezing into his feathers. “They’re pretty,” she mumbles.

“Want one?” he asks, and she nods.

“This is my birthday present for you, don’t lose it,” he says, offering her a single long feather from the back of his wings. She clutches it to her chest tightly, a happy smile plastered on her face.

Then, you interrupt.

“Baby, mama has to run some errands, but she’ll come right back to pick you up when the clock says twelve. You remember how that looks like, right?”

“It’s a 1 and a 2,” she says, bringing up her hands to show you.

Hawks decides to walk you out as your daughter sits in his office chair, twirling around his feather in her hand. He isn’t sure what to say to you now that he has you near him. Should he thank you for bringing her? Or would that only serve to piss you off since it’s not like you wanted to do this by choice?

“Hawks,” you say, bringing him out his thoughts. “There’s one more thing before I go.”

“What is it?”

“Don’t tell her,” you order. “Don’t you dare tell her.”

His chest squeezes at that but he can understand why you wouldn’t want her to know that information when the two of you aren’t even on speaking terms outside this issue. He didn’t want to do anything to make the situation worse either, so he brings his fingers to his mouth and zips his pinched thumb and index finger across his lips. “I’ll make sure mine and anyone else’s lips are sealed if they want to keep their job,” he calmly reassures you, always calm and carefree so you wouldn’t think that your rejection is successfully deterring him.

From then on, you drop your daughter off at his office twice a week to get a better handle on her powers. You didn’t stay long aside from that, but Hawks likes the small moments when all three of you are in the same room together.

The hero can be thankful that at least one of his girls likes him. His Baby Bird quickly attached herself to him, always pattering after his footsteps like a shadow, and always asking if he’d hold her hand, a smile forming whenever he engulfed her smaller one. He even keeps his promise to let her see Rei, or Elsa as Baby Bird so passionately refers to her, now that the woman is out of the hospital.

He thinks that if that family can recover from what happened then his shouldn’t be much different as long as he keeps trying to put in the effort and not step on your toes too much.

It isn’t long before Baby Bird begins to get a hang of her powers. At least enough that she wouldn’t be hurting anyone at school. Hawks had hoped you would still allow him to train her past that point though, but you quickly told him that she wouldn’t be returning to the agency when she reached that point.

He was sad to hear it of course, but he didn’t want to cause what little progress he made to be broken even if he really wanted to see her fly at least a few inches before she left. She’s been getting into the habit of jumping instead of walking to practice like he used to do. Although, she resembles more of a bouncy frog than a bird, to be honest.

He watches, amused, as she bounces along next to him in the hallway.

“You’ve gotten good at that,” he compliments, drawing her attention upwards.

“I’ve been practicing lots at home, but I’m not that good yet. Will you teach me how to fly like you do tomorrow?” she asks.

“No, Baby Bird. Didn’t your mommy tell you that we’re done with training after today?”

She hangs her head down, her bouncing stopping as she drags her feet. “…Yes,” she answers, letting his arm go lax as she releases his hand. Hawks pauses, watching as she draws her hands to her waist and anxiously bunches and twists the bottom of her shirt, and Hawks throat goes dry as she asks with glossy eyes, “Daddy, why doesn’t mommy like you?”

He’s completely silent, wondering exactly when she figured it out or if someone in the office had told her, let alone told her the fact that you didn’t like him. Well, he guesses it doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. “How do you know to call me that?"

“Yesterday, my teacher told us that we inhe-inhe-inherent our quirk from our parents. I remember you said Elsa and her son had the same quirk, and you have big wings like mine and can make your feathers move.”

Hawks smiles. She’s a sharp one to piece it together in a day. “Your teacher is right. I bet you’ve never seen anyone else that looks quite like us.”

“No,” she answers, sniffling. “I don’t want to go home. I want to stay and play with you. Mommy is so mean to you. I hate her!”

Hawks cups her chin in his hand, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Look at me. Don’t talk about your mommy like that. It’s my fault she always gets upset when I’m around. I was mean and bullied her a lot, so if you’re mad, be mad at me. I’m the reason we can’t play together more.”

She sniffs again but it isn’t enough to stop the globs of tears running down her cheeks. “When we saw you at the park, mommy started crying when we went home. I didn’t know why she did.”

Hawks knows why. The reason you’re always so angry at him is because of the hurt you still hold inside for what he did to you. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have cried. The opposite of love is indifference as they say, and he knows it’s true because he had been indifferent to the pain he caused ever since the day you came to him with weepy eyes and shaking arms as you told him you were pregnant. You had been scared, and he told you to deal with it.

Hawks scowls. He’s starting to feel sick.

"If you make someone cry, you should say sorry."

Hawks smiles. “I know, baby. I'll apologize to your mama, and I’m going to try my best to make it up to her, and you, too. I’m not going to make either of you cry anymore. Then, when she forgives me, we’ll play together again.”

She looks to him, a small glimmer of hope. “You promise?”

Hawks chuckles and grins at her, the same charming expression that made you fall for him in the first place. He holds out his hand. “Even better. I pinky promise,” he says and confidently hooks her finger with his. “Repeat after me: birds of a feather stick together.”

“Birds of a feather stick together.”

“That’s my girl,” he praises before dropping her hand to pet her head. “I think we might have a little time for me to teach you something before your mommy gets here.”

At the end of the day, Hawks is already waiting for you at the front steps of the agency as your call pulls into parallel park at the sidewalk. You step out and walk towards the steps, but your daughter meets you halfway by hopping over them, her wings flapping to hover before she falls back down onto her feet.

You smile at her. You can’t believe she’s actually flying, at least a little that is, but your surprise is ruined when she cheers. “Mommy, look at what daddy taught me,” she says, bouncing to show you her new hovering skills. “Are you looking? Are you looking?”

“Yes, I’m looking. You’re so good at that. You need to show me more when we get home,” you say but to be honest it’s the last thing on your mind as you glance over to Hawks. “Baby, why don’t you go sit in the car, and I’ll be right there.”

Hawks watches as she obediently follows your instructions, turning her back and happily hopping towards the vehicle.

“(Name), I-” Hawks says, unsure what to expect when your angry glare turns back on him. It isn’t until his yellow visors are already clicking against the pavement that he realizes you hit him. He hisses at the sting on his cheek. “That actually kind of hurt. I guess I had it coming, but I’m not really sure what I did at least recently,” he tries to play off, but you aren’t having it.

“You told her, you told her,” you keep repeating, and he’s backing away in case you decide to strike him again. “Are you trying to get her on your side?”

“Not in the way you’re thinking, and I didn’t tell her,” Hawks explains. “She pieced it together on her own. She’s sharper than you think, she can see that we look alike when she looks in a mirror, and she knows how quirks work. That’s more than enough for her to tell.”

His explanation is enough for you to halt in your assault, and you angrily huff under your breath. You don’t shift to leave, and there’s no door for you to slam away. He finally has you available. “So, what do you want to do now?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean she knows; and honestly, I’m glad she does,” he confesses. “I wouldn’t mind seeing her again if you’d let me.”

Hawks swallows his anxiety as he waits for you to answer. Your eyes shift from him back to where she sits in your car, fiddling with the toys obviously left to clutter in the back before you look back at him, thinking.

“She does seem to like you…for some reason,” you add distastefully, but you know full well how happy training makes her. How her little smile beamed when she fluttered over those steps. How the word daddy came from her so sweetly. “She always likes talking about you after she spends the day here. You make her happy. But that’ll just make it harder for her when you leave ag-“

“I won’t,” he cuts off.

“How do I know that?”

“You don’t but I promise not again. (Name), I’m sorry. I’m sorry for telling you to go away like a burden and for not being there. You must’ve been scared, but I won’t leave either of you alone from now on even if you don’t want me there. I’ll be there if you need me.”

“Drop it. I’m not a part of this,” you tell him.

He knows that you’re rejecting his apology, but his ears can pick up what others can’t. He can hear those soft inflections in your voice right before you harden it into aggression, the slight stutter that you so cleverly thought you hid from him as you nearly fumbled your words, a little glimpse of a teenage girl with a crush on her sensei. “Not yet but do know I plan on trying until I make you fall for me all over again. I miss your cute little face when I'd smile at you.”

You glare. “Say that again, and I will smack you in your "cute little" face.”

"You already did that, but if it makes you feel better go ahead, I can take it if it helps you forgive me.”

He just didn’t expect you to actually take him up on the offer. This time, it’s the other cheek that burns.

“You’re right. That did make me feel better,” you say, smirking as you shake the sting from your hand. Hawks grunts, rubbing his jaw as you begin to walk towards your car. He bends down to pick up his shades before following close behind. You open the driver’s door, and say, “I expect you to pick her up at 9 tomorrow. If you’re late, don’t bother showing up ever again.”

Hawks smirks. You certainly became aggressive these past few years, but he thinks he kind of likes it. As you get in your car, he notices Baby Bird smiling at him from the window, her hand up and clutched around that birthday feather he gifted to her as she waves him off.

He’ll definitely be there on time.

#hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #hawks x y/n #bnha hawks

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knjsnoona · 3 years

Text

Restoration

genre: smut || slice of life pairing: jin x reader word Count: 10.1k rating: 18+ warnings: language, light dom!jin, explicit sexual descriptions, choking, fingering summary: Return to your childhood hone with your partner, Jin only to discover how much it’s changed. project: this part of the bcc summer games event~ it’s was for the image prompt which is the one under the name of the fic in the banner lol this was meant to be short, but then i included this whole first half smh credits: a HUGE thank you goes to my amazing beta reader @destructiveasparagus ! helped me find where my weaknesses lie and super incredibly helpful in how to learn from my mistakes! thank you so so much! i hope to improve with my future works!

It had been a long time since you’d been to your hometown, so long you barely recognized it as you drove in with your fiancé. Streets you once ran around on as a child—knowing each backstreet like the back of your hand—now seemed like the paths of a maze; roads that stirred distant memories of laughter and joy.

Eyes catching new shops where your favorite childhood hangouts once stood, a dull ache laced with both nostalgia and discomfort begins to stir within you. It seems the town had decided to be more modern… more suburban you guessed. It kind of made you sad if you were honest with yourself. You were expecting to return to the home you once loved, and to be bathed in the memories of each corner, shop, and alley.

Becoming more frustrated with each new sight you didn’t recognize, you sink into your seat releasing a sigh. Crossing your arms loosely over your chest, you look down at your knees. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you pondered what your neighborhood would look like. You hoped against hope that at least that small corner of your memories wouldn’t be betrayed.

“You okay?”

Catching your attention, you look to the side at your fiancé who had turned to look at you as he made a stop at a red light. His handsome features twisted into concern, which brought a small smile to your lips. Softly nodding, you try to assuage his worries.

“I’m fine, Seokjin. Just realizing how long it’s been since I was home is all,” melancholy weaving into your voice, gaze forlornly sweeping out the windows of the vehicle again.

“Changed that much, huh?” eyes still on you, every so often shuffling to make sure the street light hadn’t changed yet.

You nod, watching as a couple of teenage girls walk with some name brand iced coffees in their hands, eyes glued to their phones, as they giggled about something mundane. Feeling like a creep for staring, you shake your head and look back at the man by your side. “It’s definitely changed.... too much.”

God, you’d never identified with a boomer harder than you did at this very moment. Words of when I was kid at the tip of your tongue, wanting to rant about all the things you remembered as a kid and how it had been ruined now. You’d never regretted leaving home before, not until this moment. All of your treasured spots, destroyed by gentrification. How depressing.

But then you look at what you had gained from your departure from home and you realize how silly you’re being. You had found tons of struggle out in the world on your own. Learned what it was like to truly live in a woman’s world; having to work twice as hard for half the pay of a man; earning the way you had to always be cautious and on the lookout for dangers that lurked around every corner when the sun went down; learned how to pick yourself back up and work harder, when you were passed up on a promotion in favor of the manager’s son.

But you made it through every obstacle. You were a fighter, and never shied away from fighting to get what you wanted. To deal with the dangers of walking around at night, you took self defense classes. You quit the job that underpaid you. And when the manager at that other job finally offered you that promotion, you gave them your two weeks. You decided to take a position at a startup company that saw your worth, valued your opinions and took your ideas into consideration. A company where you were promoted and given more power to help it grow. It had grown into a multimillion-dollar business. Whose technology had been implemented in every hospital in the country. And the genius behind its creation and production sat by your side.

Kim Seokjin had been a godsend. You’d bumped into him one night at a bar after a particularly rough day of work. You had dropped into the seat beside him, not sparing a single glance his way as you ordered a beer. Shoulders slumping, you rubbed at your eyes in frustration pushing your tears back in. Noticing your distress, he reached out to you. He asked after your well being, taking you by surprise. Cautiously you spoke to him that night, only to be pleasantly surprised by his kind nature. While sharing the struggles of your days with each other, he brought up his start up and how he was looking to fill the position. Handing you a card before you both parted ways, he offered you a position without even knowing your qualifications.

Long story short, you took the position, worked your way up and fell in love with the company's CEO. Of course, there were those that always felt the need to fill the office with unnecessary drama. Hushed whispers in the break rooms, and muttered words across the cubicles of how you had slept your way to the top. But you shrugged them all off, no water off a duck’s back right? Besides, how do you sleep your way to the top of a tiny startup? There was no top or bottom. The tomfoolery of the envious, honestly.

The car jerking into motion brings you back to the present. Blinking the memories of the past decade or so out of the way. Vision returning to your present day home town, suddenly not so bothered by the changes. Your home had grown up and adapted, just as you had. That thought alone brings a smile to your face. A hand slipping over your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze, making you completely beam as you take Jin's hand in your own ringed hand. Placing a soft kiss on the back of his hand, as you hold it tenderly in your lap, his quiet laugh filling the space in the car as you continued on your way.

Some ten minutes later, you pull up the front of your childhood home; warmth filling your chest as you notice how little it’s changed. Aside from a few cosmetic changes it was still the same. And there they were, all the memories rushing in at once. The feelings you had been anticipating finally hit you. Now you felt like you were truly home as you were surrounded by all the wonderful memories of your childhood.

A gentle hand on your lower back brings you back, you smile up at Jin who stands by your side. A reassuring smile adorns his plush lips, as he rubs small circles on your back in a show of support and affection.

“You ready?”

Taking one large lung full of air, you hold it for a couple beats before deflating and nodding up at him. The steadying warmth of his hand on your lower back fills you with all the confidence you needed as you made your way up the stone patch.

Worries of how your family would react to you being back niggling the back of your mind. You tried to keep in touch as much as you could but there were times it was almost impossible due to financial stability or work load. Damn, a small bit of guilt began to bloom in your chest. So you stand frozen, finger just a few inches from the doorbell. Maybe you should’ve called before showing up.

Sensing your internal struggle, Jin wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. Plush lips press to the crown of your head leaving a quick kiss. “Everything’s going to be fine, babe,” he whispers into your hair.

“How do you know? I mean- I’ve been gone so long… they have to be angry with me. What if they think I don't care?” you fret, teeth gnawing at the inside of your bottom lip, hands twisting into the hem of your shirt, wrinkling the smooth fabric in the anxiety.

Chuckling softly, the arm around you turns you to face the tall male. Eyes roam your face, a warmth in them that always somehow seem to soothe your nerves. And sooth they did as you could feel your worries begin to ebb away.

“Hey, none of that,” he chastises, as he presses his hand lightly to your jaw, thumb tugging your bottom lip down. “You’re going to chew yourself raw. And we don’t want that. I don’t want you hurting yourself.” He places a gentle kiss on your lips as if to soothe away any stinging there.

Your lips can’t help but spread into a smile at how he was being such a mother hen. He was always like this, not just with you but with his employees as well. It’s what made him such a good boss, and an even better partner. Lady luck was feeling extremely generous the day she led you to Jin in that quaint bar.

Returning your smile, he quickly places multiple kisses around your face—on your nose, your cheeks, and your forehead. Arms wrapping around your waist to hold you close, as you giggle at the onslaught of kisses he bestowed you with. The sound of his mirth joining yours, pulling back to hold your cheeks gently. Eyes looking into your own as he assures you, “Everything is going to be fine, so stop stressing for once. We’re here to relax okay?”

Sighing, you nod with a smile still perched on your face. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“Of course, I am. And the most handsome!” all the confidence in the world seeping out of his words, smugness painting over his pretty features.

You scoff playfully, smacking his arm. “And yet you like claiming you’re humble,” shaking your head you turn back to the door and ring the doorbell without hesitation.

“Well, I’m not bragging if it’s a fact,” comes his witty retort which has your eyes rolling. This was nothing new with him, the man knew he was good looking. I mean you’d have to be blind to not think so as well. But you know, can’t let his ego inflate too big.

“I don’t know… I've seen better looking,” you shrug nonchalantly as you press the doorbell again, hoping someone was actually home. Yeah, you definitely should’ve called ahead.

“What? Where? Who is he!? Wait, are you talking about that kid in marketing? What’s his name?” he instantly barrages you with a succession of questions, jealousy bleeding into his tone. “That pretty boy with the deep voice! You-”

He’s suddenly cut off by the jingling of a handle and the lock being turned, as the door swings open. Your mother stands before you, surprise marring her features. Features that remained the same after all these years, a few wrinkles showing her age joined the painting that was your mother’s face. You’d pictured—imagined—scenarios of seeing her again, of how it would go but the feelings you felt now were far more intense than anything your mind could conjure up. .

You were sure the shock she wore was mirrored by you, as you stood there taking the other in. Your heart hammered away at your chest, pumping emotions into every vein throughout your body until it began to leak out of your eyes. As the first drop made it’s journey down your cheek, you stepped forward prompting your mother to mirror your actions, crashing into each other's arms. You didn’t realize you could miss someone so much and up until that point had been unaware that you had missed being held in the arms of your mother.

You could feel her tears seep through the shirt on your shoulder, happy greetings and words blubbered in excitement. Laughing you pull back enough to look at her, a watery smile greeting you.

“I’ve missed you, Momma,” your voice trembling with the emotions overtaking you.

“I’ve missed you too, sweet pea. I’m so happy to see you safe and healthy. I was worried you weren’t eating well this whole time. I know how you can get, you get too involved in what you’re working on and forget to eat,” your mother rambles on, word vomit just pouring out of her. All the words she hasn’t been able to share with you now fill the space between you. As a teenager you would’ve been annoyed, but now as a grown adult you were endeared by her light nagging.

“She still does that,” Jin's voice catching both of your attention. “Not eat, I mean.”

You turn to him, a self-satisfied smile on his lips, and an incredulous look on yours. Wow, not even two minutes, and he was already selling you out to your mother. You shake your head at him, eyes trying to signal for him to stop. He simply chuckles back.

“Oh is that right?” Your mother gives you a look, before looking back at your handsome partner. “And who might this be?” Eyebrows raise in question to you.

“Oh! I’m so sorry. Momma, this is my, um, fiancé, Kim Seokjin. Jin this is my mother,” you awkwardly introduce them. Biting the corner of your lip as you look at your mother out of the corner of your eye.

She looks at you, surprised at your engaged status, which you hadn’t had the chance to bring up during the brief, rare calls home. You can see the message hidden in her eyes, we’ll talk about this later, before turning to Jin. “It's a pleasure to finally meet you. My, you’re a handsome one.”

You close your eyes and internally groan before turning to Jin pointing a cocky smile your way. He sure was annoying when he was proven right. Gloating prick.

He gives you a quick eyebrow wiggle before turning to smile at your mother. “You’re too kind, really,” acting embarrassed, as he rubs the back of his neck and bows in gratitude once more.

“Oh! And he’s modest!” your mothers cheers delightedly.

Wow, he pulled the fake modesty card. You shake your head at him as you quietly scoff, lips almost quirked in a smile, as he winks at you. He was something else. But he was your something else. He was worth it. Headaches, terrible jokes and all.

“So… is anyone else home?” you questioned, curious as to whether your father, or if any of your siblings, were around. You weren’t sure if they’d be as welcoming as your mother, but her warmth and acceptance of you returning gave you the confidence to continue forward.

Your mother nods at you excitedly, wrapping an arm around yours and moving you towards the door. Jin follows behind amused as your mother explains how one of your aunts was visiting with her family, and how a couple of your siblings were in town. She went a mile a minute, spewing out even the latest family gossip—your father’s brother had cheated on his wife, your cousin had come out of the closet after being caught mid act (“What a scandalous event that was!”) and even how your mother’s eldest sister had beat breast cancer.

You sighed happily as you let your mother lead the way, Jin flanking behind you. Man it felt good to be home.

“We got incredibly lucky,” you said loudly, as you placed a small pile of folded clothes in a drawer. Pacing back over to the suitcase on the bed, pulling out your underwear to place in the same drawer to one side.

“What?” Jin called from the room over.

“I said we got lucky!” you replied, voice louder than before.

“Lucky?”

“Yeah. We‘re lucky they didn’t charge a cancellation fee at the hotel.”

Your mother, after making the rounds with the family, had insisted you stay in your old room. You were surprised that it had remained as you had left it. You were sure it would’ve been turned into a home gym by now, or a man cave for your brother that was still home. The fact that it was still intact, filled you with emotion. Your mother must have held out hope you’d come back, so when she insisted you agreed, unable to deny her request.

Of course there was the task of cancelling your hotel reservation, which everyone knows last minute cancellations come with some hefty cancellation fees. You felt bad as you had dialed the number on your cell, but Jin assured you it was fine and was worth it if you were happy.

As Jin worked on unloading the luggage, you spoke with the concierge who upon looking up the reservation, gifted you with the surprise of not incurring a late fee. You had been surprised and tried to verify the cancellation policy to which the male on the other end confirmed there would be no charge and wished you a pleasant day. You returned the sentiment as you hung up and looked at your partner in mild stupor before relaying the information to which he raised his eyebrows and shrugged, bringing in the rest of your belongings.

“You're still stuck on that?” he points out, humor ringing in his voice.

“Well, isn’t it a bit surprising to you?” you huff, cheeks puffing a bit in a pout.

“I guess…” he trails off momentarily. You could hear the gears turning before he returned with, “Maybe it’s because they saw who I was.”

“What? Why would that matter?” You had a feeling you knew where this was going, and could already feel your eyes preemptively rolling.

“Because, I’m the youngest, most handsome CEO in the nation.” A wheezing laugh following his words, almost sounding like windshield wipers.

Your eyes roll so hard, you see the back of your skull, and into an alternate universe. Why did you put up with him again? And as the sound of a door opening fills the space, you remember one of the reasons as he walks through the door. Towel wrapped loosely around his hips, muscles flexing as he rubbed his hair dry with another towel, he stood in all his glory. Your eyes chase drops of water running down his wet skin, swallowing hard where they disappear into the material knotted around his narrow hips.

“Sweetheart, you’re making me blush with all the ogling,” he chuckles smugly. “I get it though.”

You snap out of your daze, eyes narrowing at his cocky face in annoyance. Shaking your head, you choose to ignore him—turning back to your bag, grabbing some of your toiletries to place on the dresser. Distracted by your task you don’t notice Jin walk up behind you, until you’re tugged back into his wet torso.

“You know,” he mutters into your ear, “I haven’t forgotten that little quip from earlier.” One of his large hands slides up your body, finding its home wrapped around your jaw. He tilts your head back into his shoulder, his other arm wrapping around your waist to pull you further into his form. “You think that kid in the office is better looking than me.”

You take a few calming breaths, body becoming alert with excitement as Jin invades your space. Every word and touch begins to stir desire within you.

“I never said that. You assumed… you know what they say about when you assume,” you can’t help but gibe, lips tugging up in a smirk.

A growl rumbles through you as the grip on your jaw tightens slightly. “Don't be a smart ass… I’ve seen the way you look at him, when you think no one is aware. I’m not an idiot.”

You chuckle, unable to help yourself. His jealous words turn you on more than they should.

“I can’t help it if he’s pretty to look at,” you state complacently.

“Pretty?” he chuckles at your audacity, grip tightening slightly around your jaw. Swinging your jaw away from the direction of his face, the feel of his lips brushing the shell of your ear makes you shiver. “You do look at him. Tell me, do you fantasize about him?”

Your eyes shut, the warmth of his breath traveling through your trapped body; an aching starting to pulse between your thighs. Hands moving back to rest on his towel covered thighs to help maintain balance, but more importantly to assist in feeling grounded.

“You do, don't you…?” His nose nuzzles at your ear, lips pressing behind your ear. “Is that why you stare? Because you imagine what it would be like to have him inside you?” the arm wrapped around your waist loosens, hand traveling south to the apex of your thighs.

You bite your lip, unable to answer his questions. His touch leaves trails of flames wherever they roam, burning any words from you. His words are simmering your blood.

“Is your silence an admission?” he says with a slight edge to his voice. “You imagine him sliding into you? Taking you? As if you're his?” His grip on your jaw moves to your throat, fingers wrapping deliciously around the smooth muscle and flesh.

“You’ll never be his,” he hisses. The hand between your thighs grips your core tightly, a whine escaping your lips at the slight pain and pleasure. “This,” grip tightening for emphasis, “is mine! Your cunt belongs to me. My cock will be the only one to ever claim it,” Jin growls into your ear, hips pressing his hard member into your ass.

Fuck, that was enough to ruin your underwear. His words release the floodgates, slick escaping your lower lips to soak your panties. The growl rumbling against your back, and vibrating in your ear has your mind blanking for a moment, thighs clenching involuntarily around his wrist.

“Turned on by that?” he crows, self gratification filling every word. “Do you like hearing me claim you? The affirmation that no other man will ever ruin this pretty pussy like me?”

Your breath hitches, a strong pulse running through your body like seismic activity relaying that an eruption is imminent. With the way Jin is rutting into your back, hand gently petting your mound, it was only a matter of time before he had you bursting in ecstasy.

His lips lightly trail up and down the shell of your ear, removing his hand from your throat to grip at your jaw and tilt your face up at him. Faces so close, your noses brush, breaths intermingling. He pulls back his head, looking down at you as the corner of his lip lifts in smirk just as he shoves his other hand under the band of your underwear. Long, warm fingers softly run over your lips, massaging gentle circles into them.

Licking his luscious lips, he hisses when one his fingers swipes between your lips. “Fuck,” he groans, biting his thick lip. “You’re this wet from a few words... '' A finger swirling around your opening, spreading your juices. The digit slides up to your sensitive nub, giving it the same attention. Pressing down with a bit of pressure, rolling it around making you arch your back, eyes clenching.

You feel Jin nudge your nose with his own, brushing his lips against yours. Eyes fluttering open, they meet his dark eyes, completely blow black from his arousal. Pink muscle slipping from his lips, sliding across yours teasingly while his hips slowly press against yours to get a bit of relief as your hands grip the towel resting over his flexing thighs. Your lips part, inviting his devilish tongue in, the prelude of you parting your legs for his length.

Taking the invitation, Jin shoves his tongue into your awaiting mouth. The moist muscle wrestling with yours as you kiss each other desperately. Both of you beyond the point of slow and steady when he shoves two digits into your core, his mouth trapping the groan he rips out of you. With no patience, the digits set a steady pace as his palm presses into your clit. Your hips buck at the sudden onslaught of stimulation. Your lips crash against each other like waves, teeth clacking as you try to get closer.

He pulls back from the kiss provoking a whine from you. His jaw clenches as his fingers fuck into your hole, scissoring your walls, preparing you for him. You press your ass into him, feeling how hard he is, your walls quiver around his fingers.

“No more,” you moan quietly.

“What’s wrong, baby? Too much?” he lazily grins down at you, grinding the palm of his palm down on your nub.

Your eyebrows pinch at the stimulation, lips parting without a sound escaping before you’re able to gather your senses again. “No… no more foreplay.” Your lusty gaze meets his, your chest heaving as you try to even it out. “I want you inside me now,” reaffirming how it was only him you wanted.

He pulls you into a hard kiss, pulling his hand out of your pants. Releasing your jaw, he yanks your pants and underwear down your thighs. Lifting your legs to kick them off, he rotates your bodies to walk you back into the bed, nearly ripping your shirt off you. You almost fall as your legs hit the bed, ripping his lips from yours. You both gasp for air as you stare at each other for a moment.

His hand slides into your hair, scratching soothingly at your scalp before gripping it in a firm hold. Turning your face to the side, he leans in, licking a stripe up your neck to your ear. He takes the lobe of your ear between his teeth teasingly tugging it. Pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear, he nuzzles the hair behind it, breath tickling your ear pleasurably.

“Turn around. I want you bent over this bed, with your ass in the air for me. I want to see how your cunt weeps for me.”

His words strike a hard cord within you, goosebumps appearing all over your flesh. You bite your lip, turning your body away from him and move into position. Feeling it wasn’t enough, he uses the grip on your strands to push you down further into the comforter, back completely arched now.

Strands slipping between his fingers as he removes his hand, the other palms your ass cheek, pulling it to the side to look at your core. The groan that leaves him makes you clench.

“Look how pretty… so wet and inviting. Look how your hole clenches, begging for my dick.” His other hand grabs onto the opposite cheek, pulling it away to open you even more to him. Pressing his hips to yours, he slots his length against your soaked lips. Slowly rubbing his member up and down, lubricating himself with your slick.

Every word makes you clench, the desire raging inside you growing desperate for him to fill you. Every throb of the thick shaft almost makes you delirious.

Eyes previously squeezed shut flutter open, as your hands grip the comforter. A childish print catches your attention, suddenly the realization hits you. You’re back at your childhood home, in a house full of relatives. You weren’t alone in this house, and they weren’t asleep. Now that you had awareness, you could hear them beyond the door chattering. You had let lust get away with you.

“Jin wait…” you hiss.

He stops all movement, one of hands gently petting your lower back. “Did I hurt you? Are you okay?” worry slipping into his words.

“No no. You didn’t hurt me. I just… I realized we’re not alone. We can’t do this here. My family is right out there,” you explain in a loud whisper, trying to look at him over your shoulder.

Silence reigns for a moment.

“So?” Jin's single word pierces the quiet.

“What?” you question, baffled by his nonchalance.

“What does that matter?” He shifts before pressing against you, the head of his cock prodding at your bud. He leans over your back, hands resting on your hips. “It doesn’t bother me, and it never has to you either. You never complain when I fuck you in my office, surrounded by all of our coworkers... our employees.”

You swallow hard.

“In fact, you love initiating it. Teasing me in front of them, riling me up.” His hips thrust, length slipping between your lower lips, cushioned comfortably between them.

“T-that’s different.” you try to argue, but his throbbing manhood against you makes it hard. “Thi-this is my family… who I haven't seen in a long time. I can’t h-have them thinking badly of me.”

He’s quiet but for a minute before wrapping a hand around your mouth. “Then you better keep quiet,” is the quick warning he hisses in your ear as he pushes his length into you.

His hand traps the sound of your yelp. Your walls stretch deliciously but sting at his abrupt intrusion as he buries himself completely. He doesn’t move, allowing you to adjust, placing gentle kisses over your shoulder. His hand massages circles into your hip.

Unable to verbally notify him it was okay to move, you opt for using your hips as you push back against him. Getting the hint, his hips pull back slowly before pushing back in at the same agonizingly passive pace. Lips still pressing kisses to your soft skin, hips lazily snapping into you .

You whine, wanting more.

“Needy already,” he chuckles and places one last kiss to your flesh before standing to his full height. Both hands now resting on your hips, pulling you back so he can grind himself inside your spongy walls. “Remember, not a sound. Your family is out there.”

What a jackass, you can’t help but think as you glare back at him, that damn cocky smile on his lips. You open your mouth to retort but it quickly snaps shut as he pulls back and snaps back in. The action was so hard, you almost thought he’d speared straight into your stomach.

He slides out slowly again before plunging roughly back in. Filling you so completely, each hard impale burning pleasurably. Hands sliding to push your cheeks apart, he watches himself disappear between your folds as he sets a steady pace.

The sound of your sex gushing with each probe of his shaft makes you grow wetter. Slick running down the inside of your thighs, as he pushes it out of you, clit pulsing with each invasion.

It isn’t long before he angles his hips, in search of that spot he enjoys so much. It’s with one particular push that he finds it, as you lifted onto your toes and arched your back signaling him. A whine trapped behind teeth that bite down hard on your lips as he hits it again is all the confirmation he needs.

He sets about burrowing into you, head meeting that patch of spongy tissue over and over;building an inferno in the pit of your stomach with each visit. Your legs begin to tremble as you part your lips.

“H-harder, please,” you quietly moan, almost breathless, trying to keep your volume down.

“Whatever my baby wants, she gets.” His thrusts turn piercing. Hips smacking into yours hard, hands gripping you bruisingly hard. Over the smacks of your hips that filled the room, you can hear him groan softly with each shove. It made you clench around him, causing his hips to stutter briefly before returning to their bruising pace.

“Your pussy is so hot and wet. You're soaking my thighs baby,” he groans out, smacking into you harder. “Squeezing me so tight, begging me to fuck you harder.”

A smack to your behind pulls a yelp from you. Panicking, you bring a hand to cover your mouth, hoping no one heard that. Worry niggling at you again before it’s promptly fucked right out of you by Jin's hips speeding up their brutal pace.

“I wish I could hear you baby,” he rasps, sounding just as breathless as you are. “I want to hear you moan for me… begging to cum… I want to hear you scream my name.”

You feel the bed dip beside you, as he places a foot down. Elevating his leg, he creates a new angle to spear your core. Hands finding purchase above your hips, he anchors his hold, hips pulled back.

“Remember… we don't want to get found out.”

With those words he pushes into you quickly and roughly. Each thrust drags you to and fro on the bed, rubbing your nipples raw against the material. His hips unrelenting in their assault of you. Pistoning deep, making sure to brush your g-spot with each insertion.

His actions have you crying into the comforter, as it catches and cushions your cries, groans and mantras of his name. Hands clenching the material so tight, your fingers were going numb. You wanted to fuck back into him, but his tight grip on you and his brutal pace allowed no room to.

“Fuck your so good to me. Your pussy is so perfect. So tight and warm. And it's. Only. Mine.” Accentuating each word with a sharp thrust. Laying his full claim to your core.

Fingers wrapping in your tangled strands, he guides you to stand, back leaning against his chest as the other hand grips your throat, fingers pressing down on your pressure points. The pressure fueling the fire of your impending orgasm, as the new angle only adds fuel to the already roaring wildfire.

“Who does your cunt belong to?” he growls into your ear.

You hardly breath, nevermind gracing him with an answer. But as he adds pressure to your throat, you gasp out, “You.”

“That’s right,” he moans, self-satisfied, slowing his pace to grind into you slow and deep. “Mine. Only mine to ruin. Only mine to paint with my cum.”

His words hit you hard, as you clench hard around him, groaning in sync with him as waves pulse through you. You were so close, you knew he could tell as the fingers previously tangled in your hair, now pressed circles into the bundle of nerves buried in your folds.

You throw your head back, gasps of air leaving your parted lips. Your nails dig into the sweaty flesh of his thighs, hips bucking back into his. You try your hardest to not be too loud, as your face twists into nothing but pure pleasure.

You were so close, so close you were quietly pleading Jin to cum. His name becomes a prayer on your lips, that fuels his own need. The sound of his name desperately falling from your lips makes him almost feral in the way he fucks you. Plunging into you so hard and fast, that the unmistakable sounds of flesh slapping flesh could be heard through the room, the sound accompanied by the filthy sounds of your dripping arousal.

A guttural moan leaves your lips, as he pinches your bud, which he promptly cuts off by slotting his mouth over yours. Kissing you greedly, wanting to swallow every wanton sound.

The next moment, a fire spreads through your veins, as your whole body seizes at the arrival of your orgasm. Loud moans of pleasure, swallowed as promised by Jin's mouth as he kisses you sloppily. Your hips buck into his digits as they continue to stimulate your nub.

Jin’s hips continue to push through your ever tightening walls and begin to stutter in their assault, just before he pushes deep inside as you feel him paint your walls. Now it’s your turn to ingest all the sounds of his orgasm. The hand around your throat tightens, making you light headed with pleasure, as his other hand over stimulates your nub, thighs tightening to stop him.

Milking himself dry, he soon slows down and comes to a complete stop. Pulling your lips apart, a string of saliva keeps your bruised lips connected. The grip around your hips sustains your standing position, as your legs feel weak post orgasm.

Jin’s ever softening length, slips out of you making you both shiver. Gentle as he could be, he guides you to take a seat on the bed.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you at all?” He looks you over, checking for any bruises from his manhandling.

This is what made him such an amazing lover. How caring he is about his partner after making love to them. It was always so fascinating to see him turn from domineering to self-effacing. Always taking care to ask how you felt after, soothing any places he may have gone too far and holding you gently in his arms.

It simply warms your heart, as you smile up at his broad shouldered form standing before you. Placing a hand over the one he’d placed on your cheek and giving it a reassuring squeeze, you say, “I’m fine, Jin. I always am when I'm with you,”

He beams down at you just before he places a kiss lovingly on your forehead. Thumb caressing your cheek, resting his forehead against yours. A warmth radiating from his eyes as he traps you in his gaze.

“I love you.”

Your heart skips a beat at the words said so simply, stomach a buzz with a storm of bees. You would never tire of hearing him say them to you, always feeling like the first time he’d confessed the depth of his feelings.

“I love you more,” you return, biting your lip giddily.

A smile reaches his eyes, as he grins widely. His cheeks puff up, giving him the look of an adorable squirrel storing acorns. His lips press to yours, no movement necessary. Just a simple press, feeling more intimate than what you had previously been engaged in.

He pulls back with a questioning look in his eyes, when he feels you shiver, almost spilling from his lips before you speak.

“Sorry, um just felt it slipping out of me,” you murmur, embarrassed, eyes not meeting his.

He chuckles, wide shoulders shaking in his mirth. Kissing you again he mutters, “You’re so cute sometimes.”

Slipping an arm around your back and one beneath your knees, he lifts you effortlessly. You wrap your arms around his neck, looking at him in confusion. He ignores your inquisitive eyes, making his way to the door he’d left not long before that led to your en suite bathroom.

“I think we should take a shower.”

“You just had a shower.”

“Yes, but after working up a sweat I need another, and together we can help preserve water.”

You roll your eyes, skeptical of him. “Sure, but no funny business!”

“No promises.”

You disappear into the bathroom with you protesting and Jin laughing.

You had been back home for a couple of days, and it had been enjoyable to say the least. Getting settled in, introducing Jin to more of your family that stopped by when they heard about your return, catching up with the extended family, and even some of your friends who still lived in town.

Jin seemed happy to be able to relax, your family welcoming him completely. He had admitted to you how much he appreciated being welcomed with open arms. He loved how large your family was, and the affection they shared so easily, compared to his small family of just his parents and himself.

You knew he also loved that they ate up his terrible jokes like hotcakes. Not to mention how your mother seemed to love cooking him meals, always blushing when he praised the meals and asking for seconds. It was also obvious how much your family stroked his ego when they complimented his looks. You knew this would be bad once the time came for you to go back to your shared home, ego so inflated you weren’t sure you’d be able to fit in the car with him. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t content at how things had turned out.

You had only gone out once since arriving, taking a stroll through the new town center, hands held in his as he listened attentively to you recount tales of your childhood. Every so often you’d stop and point out a location, describing what once took up residence in the spot of a newly erected business or apartment complex. You had stayed out till the sun had begun to make its descent, ice creams in hand as you walked back to your home.

It was that same evening upon returning home to have dinner with your family—filling your family in on your adventures—that your mother informed you about the state of your favorite place growing up. Feeling your heart drop, as she described it in more detail. When you had made your way to your room afterwards, Jin had stopped you and asked you if you wanted to visit the location. After hearing your mother’s disheartening news you weren’t sure, but Jin simply encouraged you to go see it with your own eyes.

That’s how you now found yourself tripping over a root as you trekked through the small forest not far from your parent’s home. A large hand steadying you before you eat dirt, you murmur a thank you before continuing on your way. It’s not long before you reach a clearing, that only cements your mother’s words as true. Your sad eyes survey the once beautiful lake, now nothing but a public garbage disposal. The water was murky, filled with so much debris and garbage it looked like sludge. The land surrounding the water was no better. The once pristine swimming hole was now a small landfill.

Placing a hand on your shoulder, you feel Jin give you a comforting squeeze. You rest your hand over his, intertwining your fingers, you sigh defeatedly, turning to bury your face in his chest. Wrapping his arms around you, he kisses the crown of your head and lays his cheek on it. The two of you bathe in the silence, all signs of forest life now muted in the wake of the destruction of their home. You doubted anyone even still lived here, the land so completely uninhabitable.

“This place used to be so beautiful,” you muse dejectedly, laying your cheek over his heart. “So full of life…”

Jin glides his fingers through your hair, listening closely.

“As a kid, I used to think this was the secret home of a fairy kingdom. Where a kind prince ruled over his subjects with a gentle fist. Adding color, and brilliance to nature here. At least, that’s the story my mother would tell,” you regale him, hands clutching his thin shirt.

“When she would bring my siblings and I here, and the water shimmered so beautifully, she’d say it was the fairy prince welcoming us to play in his kingdom. And when we’d visit in the evening once the sun had dipped down, balls of blinking lights dancing through the cool air, she’d say they were the fairies dancing in glee at our visit.”

You could feel tears form behind your lash line, tilting your head up as to not let them fall. You feel childish speaking of fairy tales to your fiancé, growing upset to the point you’re about to cry over it. Yet you couldn’t help yourself. This place was such a large part of your childhood, and if you were honest with yourself, it was the place you had been most anxious to visit. To see it destroyed to this degree broke your heart.

Sensing the dive in your emotions, Jin pulls back, taking your face in his hands, eyes roaming over your face in sympathy. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. Maybe we can do something.”

You tilt your head, wondering what he could mean. Blinking up at him, wet lashes sticking together. “What do you mean?”

Placidly smiling down at you, his thumb wipes away the stray tears beneath your eyes. “I don’t know, maybe we could try to clean up. Try to restore it to its former glory,” he shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets, eyes sweeping the clearing.

You stupidly blink at him, mouth slightly ajar. Your heart begins to swell with so much affection that it feels as if it could pop out of your chest. The waterworks come back full force, lips trembling with emotion.

Noticing your silence he glances back to you, eyes widening with panic, hands hovering in front of him in uncertainty. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Was it something I said?”

Shaking your head, you throw your arms around him. Burrowing your face into his neck, standing on your tiptoes. “I love you so much,” you tearfully declare.

He returns your hold, lifting you up, an affectionate smile pulling at his plump lips. “What’s all this for, you big softie?” he teasingly murmurs.

“I just… I just feel so lucky to be with you.” You can’t help the emotions pouring out of you, unable to keep them inside when it comes to him. You weren’t sure what you had done in this life to deserve him, but you swore to whatever entity was out there that you would prove yourself worthy of him. For all the days you were gifted with being by his side, you would be the best partner possible.

“Well you are pretty blessed to look upon this handsome face every day.”

You smack his arm, body shaking with restrained laughter. “You’re incorrigible!” you exclaim, barely containing the joy glowing on your face.

Windshield wiper screeches fill the air, as he backs away from you rubbing at the spot you’d hit. His laugh was something uniquely him that always called attention. No matter whether you found it odd, or not, it always made you join him. It was a trait you found completely endearing.

Your laughs begin to quiet, a few residual chuckles escaping you. You look at each other, affection and mirth mirroring one another.

“Did you really mean it?”

He hums questioningly, raising his brows.

“About trying to clean up here?”

“Of course, I do,” he nods. “We’ve still got a few more days left here. We can go buy industrial trash bags, maybe some equipment to help us pick up the garbage, and we’ll definitely need some protection,” he continues to list off.

A smile growing on your own lips, you hug his arm, squirming against him excitedly. “Okay! Let’s do it!”

“Yeah?” he questions, amused at your behavior. You nod enthusiastically and chuckle, beginning to walk off. “Well, what are we waiting for? No time like the present right?”

You agree, a pep to your step excitedly discussing the possibility of hopefully saving a part of your childhood.

“It’s so hot!” you whine, stretching your aching back as you wipe the sweat from your forehead. You roll your neck, trying to loosen your tense muscles from being hunched over with the trash pick-up stick.

Since your first visit to the Fae Kingdom, which you had taken to calling it affectionately, you had spent the last few days clearing the area around the body of sludge. It was hard labor and the two of you always arrived home sorely exhausted, passing out as soon as your bodies hit the bed. On a couple of occasions, your siblings joined you carrying some of the workload.

Thanks to their help and the determination to see things through, you were actually able to now see the floor of the hidden glade. There wasn’t much trash left, so you were currently taking care of what was left while Jin was using a pool skimmer to collect the junk in the lake.

It was a particularly sunny, and humid day. The air felt incredibly thick with moisture, making it a bit harder to breathe. Not to mention how you were sweating buckets. You had both shed some layers, hating how uncomfortable it felt to have the fabric sticking to your skin.

After complaining about the heat, you toss your stick on the ground, making your way over to a small blanket you laid out to take breaks. Lowering onto your knees, you grab a bottle of water and take a generous gulp. The cool liquid soothes your rising body temperature. Capping the bottle, you roll it on your forehead, trying to cool yourself down.

Rolling back on your knees, you land with a soft thud on your behind, enjoying the shade the tall trees provided. Taking a deep breath, you release it slowly before choking on it. Coughing violently, as your eyes almost bug out of your head.

Standing about ten feet in front of you, by the edge of the water was a broad shouldered god. Muscles flexing beneath lightly sun kissed skin, beads of sweat rolling down his back, burly arms bulging with each bend as he lifts the skimmer out of the water.

How in the hell was this herculean man real?

You sigh in awe, before looking up, hands clasped together as you whisper a thank you up above.

“What are you doing?”

You jump as his voice breaks the quiet atmosphere. Your eyes hastily fall on him as you reply in a high pitch, “Nothing!” Your cheeks begin to warm, staining with embarrassment.

His brows pinch, not fully believing you. Shaking his head, he turns to shake the skimmer into a large black bag. Setting it to the side, he swipes sweat off his brow. He turns and makes his way to you, pulling the work gloves off his large hands, stuffing them in the back pocket of his dark jeans. Coming to a stop at the edge of the blanket, he crouches down reaching his hand out for a drink.

Leaning back, you pull a cool bottle out of the cooler and hand it to him. You watch as he takes a large swig, before swiftly emptying the rest over his head. Brushing his hair back, his dark eyes rest on you. One corner of his plush lips pulls up at the unhidden admiration on your face.

“Come here.” He crooks a finger, signalling you closer.

You blink, lifting up and shuffling on your knees over to him. His hand locks behind your neck pulling you in to steal a kiss, lips brushing yours affectionately. One of your hands finds purchase on a burly shoulder to steady yourself. He pulls back, placing a succession of quick pecks over your pouting lips, pulling giggles out of you.

“I’m sorry. I suddenly realized I hadn't kissed the most beautiful woman today. It had to be quickly amended.”

A large grin breaks over your face at his cheesy words.

“You’re such a charmer, Mr. Kim.”

His eyes flash, tongue swiping over his thick lower lip. “Am I? Does that mean I can charm you out of these?” he teases, fingers tugging at your shorts.

You swallow hard, painfully aware of the warm thrum between your thighs. Biting your lip, a protest on the tip of your tongue threatens to expose the unabashed yearning of your heat.

Before you can utter a word, his lips are yours again. The hand behind your neck pulls you closer as he leans over you. A hand on your waist guides you to lie on the blanketed ground, his knee nudging your legs apart to settle between them comfortably. He kisses you languishly, hand releasing your soft strands and sliding to your cheek as he rests his weight on the arm placed by your head. Hips grinding in lazy circles against your mound, drawing a quiet moan.

Suffice to say all thoughts of the heat are replaced by a different kind of heat as your hands slide up the plane of muscles you had been admiring not long ago. You feel every flex of his back as his hips continue their languorous movements. You bend your knees, widening the space for him invitingly.

It’s as his hand descends to take hold of your left breast that you hear something in the distance. You ignore it thinking maybe it was a rustling branch or bush. Giving your breast a squeeze, Jin spreads even more heat to your core, and just as you’re about to groan your breath hitches as the sounds are closer this time.

“Jin! Sis! Are you guys here?”

Your eyes bug open, staring into Jin's equally stunned gaze before you both spring apart. A tangle of limbs, wrestling to separate from each other. It’s when you’re finally sitting in your own personal spaces that you notice a hitch in your situation. Jin’s erection was pitching a lovely tent in his semi loose jeans. His hands covered it, a pained look on his face as he cursed. Hearing the crunch of leaves close by springs you into action just as your siblings walk out of the tree line.

“Oh there you guys are,” the oldest declares, pointing you out to the others.

You smile over at them innocently from your position between Jin's legs, back resting against his naked chest, his arms resting around your waist. You both wave at them, thanking powers at be for the humidity today helping to disguise your flushed skin.

“Oh, hey! We didn’t know you guys were coming by today.” Jin greets nonchalantly, raising an arm to wave at them.

“Well,” the youngest speaks up this time, hand rubbing the back of their neck, ”we weren’t going to but when we realized what the weather was like out, we couldn’t let you guys deal with it all alone.”

You can’t help but smile at them in appreciation. “Thank you guys, you really didn’t have to.”

“This is our waterhole, we have to help too,” your middle sibling declares, pounding a fist into their chest dramatically.

You roll your eyes as they grin at you.

“Well let’s get to it, fam!” cheers the youngest.

“We’ll join you in a moment, just taking a short break,” you inform them.

“No worries, take your time. This heat is no joke.” They wave you off as they set up their equipment and bags.

You realise a sigh, reiterating your thanks as they go about cleaning. You watch them a moment before twisting your head to the side. “You wanna get a hold on yourself now?” you hiss over your shoulder. Jin’s prominent erection poking at your back, showing no signs of deflating any time soon.

He wraps his arms around you pulling closer. “I can’t help it, not when that perfect ass keeps pushing back on me.” he whispers into your ear. “And did you know your shoulders turn me on too? They’re so perfect for grabbing onto when I fuck into you from be-”

A yelp of pain gets your sibling’s attention, heads swiveling to look over you guys. Jin folded over, hand clutching at his right side where you’d elbowed him.

“He’s got a stitch in his side from cleaning out the lake. Sorry to scare you guys,” you give as an explanation, waving off their concerned gazes. Feeling bad, your oldest sibling decides to take over lake duty, telling you guys to take your time resting.

You nod gratefully, before turning your attention back to the frustratingly handsome man behind you. “Get a hold of yourself! Or you won’t be touching me for the next week!”

He looks at you in indignation, sputtering to find a response. “You can’t do that! We leave in a few days! We can finally go back to loud unfiltered sex!”

You twist around and smack a hand over his mouth. “I’m not kidding! Get it together, my siblings are here,” your eyes blazing with intent.

He removes your hand as he clears his throat. A playful glint in his eyes before he opens his obnoxious mouth. “You know you’re hot when you’re angry?” he manages before breaking out into his signature high pitched laugh.

Face flushing in annoyance, you smack his bare arm. “Fine! Good luck hiding it on your own!” you fume, leaning forward to push yourself up.

You don’t get far, as he cages you quickly with his arms, pulling you back against him, a panicked no permeating the humid air. You huff, as you feel the wind almost knock out of you at the force he uses to pull you back into place.

“Well are you gonna behave?” an unsaid ultimatum weaved into the question.

“Ah! It’s not my fault you’re so attractive! How can you blame me like this!” he continues to whine, like a petulant child not allowed to play with their favorite toy.

The pair of you continue to bicker, as your siblings slave away in restoring the clearing. It’s not long before they grow hot, exhausted by the muggy air engulfing them. Their patience and kindness waning, complaints for you both to hurry and join them—which you promptly do, with bottles of water in hand to help them cool down. Your small group makes quick work of the left over trash, as Jin takes care of what’s left in the lake.

The sun was just beginning it’s descent, stars just barely dotting across the darkening sky, when your small rag tag group finally finished; spent bodies leaning on each other, as weary eyes surveyed your hard work. It wasn’t what it once was, but it looked damn well on its way there and you couldn’t help the happy tears that brimmed your waterline. The arm around your shoulder gives you a quick squeeze, Jin's voice filling the air thanking everyone for their hard work.

The evening chill that cools your sweat soaked layers has the small group shivering. Giving the place one last sweep, you all agree to high tail it back for much needed showers and rest.

Tomorrow would be your last full day there and you wanted to make sure of one last thing. You would be trying to find a way to purify the lake water. You had been doing research and had read about techniques aiming to bring a lake back to or closer to man-made undisturbed conditions. You had found a lake restoration company not far outside of the town. Jin had already agreed to accompany you, willing to help in any way possible as you brought it up before going to bed that night. You had happily accepted, beholden by the revival of the Fae Kingdom.

The night was comfortably warm, filled with happy chatter in the beautiful glade. Fairy lights lit the area in a soft glow as many visitors sat around the lake, eating meals they had just pulled off grills or brought with them from home. Small clusters of families or couples relaxed after a day of fun and thrills.

Somewhere someone had brought a speaker, a soft pop melody permeating the air, as you quietly sing along to it, swaying in your fiance’s arms, his own angelic voice serenading you. Your family surrounded you, their loud boisterous laughs bringing you joy and comfort.

It had been a year since your visit, a year of the lake restoration working its magic. A year of love and care for the watering hole, which was almost a mirror of its former glory. Beautiful shades of green once more filling in patches of the ground, all the colors of the rainbow blooming, giving the space vibrance and life. There were signs of life all around you as creatures began to inhabit the area once more.

But the most amazing part is being able to witness the breathtaking globes of light that dance before your eyes. Soft, blinking lights that waltz around, unbothered by the visitors. The fairies had returned, they had come back home to their kingdom.

“They’re happy.”

“Huh,” you ask dumbly, breaking out of your reverie.

“The fairies, they’re happy to see you,” he voices.

A tender smile rests on his lips when you turn to him. He remembered. The childish story you had told him. And it’s in that moment, with blinking lights reflecting around him that you come to a realization.

“You’re the fairy prince. Well, you’re my real fairy prince,” you admit quietly.

He looks down at you, eyes searching yours before placing a kiss on the tip of your nose and pulling your back flush against him.

“I guess that makes you the future princess of the Fae Kingdom.”

You cling to his arms happily, taking in the gorgeous scenery before you.

“Besides, it only makes sense that someone as good looking as me is royalty.”

“And there goes the moment,” you grumble as you leave the safe space of his arms to join your family in their merriment.

“Hey! You know it’s true!” he exclaims, chasing after you, accompanied by a squeaking laugh.

#btscreatorscorner #bangtansorciere #purplearmynet #bts x reader #kim seokjin x reader #seokjin x reader #jin x reader #bts jin x reader #ksj #kim seokjin #bccsg

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qqueenofhades · 4 years

Note

Re: the post you reblogged about Bush. I'm 21 and tbh feel like I can only vote for Bernie, can you explain if/why I shouldn't? Thanks and sorry if this is dumb or anything.

Oh boy. Okay, I’ll do my best here. Note that a) this will get long, and b) I’m old, Tired, and I‘m pretty sure my brain tried to kill me last night. Since by nature I am sure I will say something Controversial ™, if anyone reads this and feels a deep urge to inform me that I am Wrong, just… mark it down as me being Wrong and move on with your life. But also, really, you should read this and hopefully think about it. Because while I’m glad you asked this question, it feels like there’s a lot in your cohort who won’t, and that worries me. A lot.

First, not to sound utterly old-woman-in-a-rocking-chair ancient, people who came of age/are only old enough to have Obama be the first president that they really remember have no idea how good they had it. The world was falling the fuck apart in 2008 (not coincidentally, after 8 years of Bush). We came within a flicker of the permanent collapse of the global economy. The War on Terror was in full roar, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan were at their height, we had Dick Cheney as the cartoon supervillain before we had any of Trump’s cohort, and this was before Chelsea Manning or Edward Snowden had exposed the extent of NSA/CIA intelligence-gathering/American excesses or there was any kind of public debate around the fact that we were all surveilled all the time. And the fact that a brown guy named Barack Hussein Obama was elected in this climate seems, and still seems tbh, kind of amazing. And Obama was certainly not a Perfect President ™. He had to scale back a lot of planned initiatives, he is notorious for expanding the drone strike/extrajudicial assassination program, he still subscribed to the overall principles of neoliberalism and American exceptionalism, etc etc. There is valid criticism to be made as to how the hopey-changey optimistic rhetoric stacked up against the hard realities of political office. And yet…. at this point, given what we’re seeing from the White House on a daily basis, the depth of the parallel universe/double standards is absurd.

Because here’s the thing. Obama, his entire family, and his entire administration had to be personally/ethically flawless the whole time (and they managed that – not one scandal or arrest in eight years, against the legions of Trumpistas now being convicted) because of the absolute frothing depths of Republican hatred, racial conspiracy theories, and obstruction against him. (Remember Merrick Garland and how Mitch McConnell got away with that, and now we have Gorsuch and Kavanaugh on the Supreme Court? Because I remember that). If Obama had pulled one-tenth of the shit, one-twentieth of the shit that the Trump administration does every day, he would be gone. It also meant that people who only remember Obama think he was typical for an American president, and he wasn’t. Since about… Jimmy Carter, and definitely since Ronald Reagan, the American people have gone for the Trump model a lot more than the Obama model. Whatever your opinion on his politics or character, Obama was a constitutional law professor, a community activist, a neighborhood organizer and brilliant Ivy League intellectual who used to randomly lie awake at night thinking about income inequality. Americans don’t value intellectualism in their politicians; they just don’t. They don’t like thinking that “the elites” are smarter than them. They like the folksy populist who seems fun to have a beer with, and Reagan/Bush Senior/Clinton/Bush Junior sold this persona as hard as they possibly could. As noted in said post, Bush Junior (or Shrub as the late, great Molly Ivins memorably dubbed him) was Trump Lite but from a long-established political family who could operate like an outwardly civilized human.

The point is: when you think Obama was relatively normal (which, again, he wasn’t, for any number of reasons) and not the outlier in a much larger pattern of catastrophic damage that has been accelerated since, again, the 1980s (oh Ronnie Raygun, how you lastingly fucked us!), you miss the overall context in which this, and which Trump, happened. Like most left-wingers, I don’t agree with Obama’s recent and baffling decision to insert himself into the 2020 race and warn the Democratic candidates against being too progressive or whatever he was on about. I think he was giving into the same fear that appears to be motivating the remaining chunk of Joe Biden’s support: that middle/working-class white America won’t go for anything too wild or that might sniff of Socialism, and that Uncle Joe, recalled fondly as said folksy populist and the internet’s favorite meme grandfather from his time as VP, could pick up the votes that went to Trump last time. And that by nature, no one else can.

The underlying belief is that these white voters just can’t support anything too “un-American,” and that by pushing too hard left, Democratic candidates risk handing Trump a second term. Again: I don’t agree and I think he was mistaken in saying it. But I also can’t say that Obama of all people doesn’t know exactly the strength of the political machine operating against the Democratic Party and the progressive agenda as a whole, because he ran headfirst into it for eight years. The fact that he managed to pass any of his legislative agenda, usually before the Tea Party became a thing in 2010, is because Democrats controlled the House and Senate for the first two years of his first term. He was not perfect, but it was clear that he really did care (just look up the pictures of him with kids). He installed smart, efficient, and scandal-free people to do jobs they were qualified for. He gave us Elena Kagan and Sonia Sotomayor to join RBG on the Supreme Court. All of this seems… like a dream.

That said: here we are in a place where Biden, Bernie Sanders, and Elizabeth Warren are the front-runners for the Democratic nomination (and apparently Pete Buttigieg is getting some airplay as a dark horse candidate, which… whatever). The appeal of Biden is discussed above, and he sure as hell is not my favored candidate (frankly, I wish he’d just quit). But Sanders and Warren are 85% - 95% similar in their policy platforms. The fact that Michael “50 Billion Dollar Fortune” Bloomberg started rattling his chains about running for president is because either a Sanders or Warren presidency terrifies the outrageously exploitative billionaire capitalist oligarchy that runs this country and has been allowed to proceed essentially however the fuck they like since… you guessed it, the 1980s, the era of voodoo economics, deregulation, and the free market above all. Warren just happens to be ten years younger than Sanders and female, and Sanders’ age is not insignificant. He’s 80 years old and just had a heart attack, and there’s still a year to go to the election. It’s also more than a little eye-rolling to describe him as the only progressive candidate in the race, when he’s an old white man (however much we like and approve of his policy positions). And here’s the thing, which I think is a big part of the reason why this polarized ideological purity internet leftist culture mistrusts Warren:

She may have changed her mind on things in the past.

Scary, right? I sound like I’m being facetious, but I’m not. An argument I had to read with my own two eyes on this godforsaken hellsite was that since Warren became a Democrat around the time Clinton signed Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, she sekritly hated gay people and might still be a corporate sellout, so on and etcetera. (And don’t even get me STARTED on the fact that DADT, coming a few years after the height of the AIDS crisis which was considered God’s Judgment of the Icky Gays, was the best Clinton could realistically hope to achieve, but this smacks of White Gay Syndrome anyway and that is a whole other kettle of fish.) Bernie has always demonstrably been a democratic socialist, and: good for him. I’m serious. But because there’s the chance that Warren might not have thought exactly as she does now at any point in her life, the hysterical and paranoid left-wing elements don’t trust that she might not still secretly do so. (Zomgz!) It’s the same element that’s feeding cancel culture and “wokeness.” Nobody can be allowed to have shifted or grown in their opinions or, like a functional, thoughtful, non-insane adult, changed their beliefs when presented with compelling evidence to the contrary. To the ideological hordes, any hint of uncertainty or past failure to completely toe the line is tantamount to heresy. Any evidence of any other belief except The Correct One means that this person is functionally as bad as Trump. And frankly, it’s only the Sanders supporters who, just as in 2016, are threatening to withhold their vote in the general election if their preferred candidate doesn’t win the primary, and indeed seem weirdly proud about it.

OK, boomer Bernie or Buster.

Here’s the thing, the thing, the thing: there is never going to be an American president free of the deeply toxic elements of American ideology. There just won’t be. This country has been built how it has for 250 years, and it’s not gonna change. You are never going to have, at least not in the current system, some dream candidate who gets up there and parrots the left-wing talking points and attacks American imperialism, exceptionalism, ravaging global capitalism, military and oil addiction, etc. They want to be elected as leader of a country that has deeply internalized and taken these things to heart for its entire existence, and most of them believe it to some degree themselves. So this groupthink white liberal mentality where the only acceptable candidate is this Perfect Non-Problematic robot who has only ever had one belief their entire lives and has never ever wavered in their devotion to doctrine has really gotten bad. The Democratic Party would be considered… maybe center/mild left in most other developed countries. It’s not even really left-wing by general standards, and Sanders and Warren are the only two candidates for the nomination who are even willing to go there and explicitly put out policy proposals that challenge the systematic structure of power, oppression, and exploitation of the late-stage capitalist 21st century. Warren has the billionaires fussed, and instead of backing down, she’s doubling down. That’s part of why they’re so scared of her. (And also misogyny, because the world is depressing like that.) She is going head-on after picking a fight with some of the worst people on the planet, who are actively killing the rest of us, and I don’t know about you, but I like that.

Of course: none of this will mean squat if she (or the eventual Democratic winner, who I will vote for regardless of who it is, but as you can probably tell, she’s my ride or die) don’t a) win the White House and then do as they promised on the campaign trail, and b) don’t have a Democratic House and Senate willing to have a backbone and pass the laws. Even Nancy Pelosi, much as she’s otherwise a badass, held off on opening a formal impeachment inquiry into Trump for months out of fear it would benefit him, until the Ukraine thing fell into everyone’s laps. The Democrats are really horrible at sticking together and voting the party line the way Republicans do consistently, because Democrats are big-tent people who like to think of themselves as accepting and tolerant of other views and unwilling to force their members’ hands. The Republicans have no such qualms (and indeed, judging by their enabling of Trump, have no qualms at all).

The modern American Republican party has become a vehicle for no-holds-barred power for rich white men at the expense of absolutely everything and everyone else, and if your rationale is that you can’t vote for the person opposing Donald Goddamn Trump is that you’re just not vibing with them on the language of that one policy proposal… well, I’m glad that you, White Middle Class Liberal, feel relatively safe that the consequences of that decision won’t affect you personally. Even if we’re due to be out of the Paris Climate Accords one day after the 2020 election, and the issue of climate change now has the most visibility it’s ever had after years of big-business, Republican-led efforts to deny and discredit the science, hey, Secret Corporate Shill, am I right? Can’t trust ‘er. Let’s go have a craft beer.

As has been said before: vote as far left as you want in the primary. Vote your ideology, vote whatever candidate you want, because the only way to make actual, real-world change is to do that. The huge, embedded, all-consuming and horrible system in which we operate is not just going to suddenly be run by fairy dust and happy thoughts overnight. Select candidates that reflect your values exactly, be as picky and ideologically militant as you want. That’s the time to do that! Then when it comes to the general election:

America is a two-party system. It sucks, but that’s the case. Third-party votes, or refraining from voting because “it doesn’t matter” are functionally useless at best and actively harmful at worst.

Either the Democratic candidate or Donald Trump will win the 2020 election.

There is absolutely no length that the Republican/GOP machine, and its malevolent allies elsewhere, will not go to in order to secure a Trump victory. None.

Any talk whatsoever about “progressive values” or any kind of liberal activism, coupled with a course of action that increases the possibility of a Trump victory, is hypocritical at best and actively malicious at worst.

This is why I found the Democratic response to Obama’s “don’t go too wild” comments interesting. Bernie doubled down on the fact that his plans have widespread public support, and he’s right. (Frankly, the fact that Sanders and Warren are polling at the top, and the fact that they’re politicians and would not be crafting these campaign messages if they didn’t know that they were being positively received, says plenty on its own). Warren cleverly highlighted and praised Obama’s accomplishments in office (i.e. the Affordable Care Act) and didn’t say squat about whether she agreed or disagreed with him, then went right back to campaigning about why billionaires suck. And some guy named Julian Castro basically blew Obama off and claimed that “any Democrat” could beat Trump in 2020, just by nature of existing and being non-insane.

This is very dangerous! Do not be Julian Castro!

As I said in my tags on the Bush post: everyone assumed that sensible people would vote for Kerry in 2004. Guess what happened? Yeah, he got Swift Boated. The race between Obama and McCain in 2008, even after those said nightmare years of Bush, was very close until the global crash broke it open in Obama’s favor, and Sarah Palin was an actual disqualifier for a politician being brazenly incompetent and unprepared. (Then again, she was a woman from a remote backwater state, not a billionaire businessman.) In 2012, we thought Corporate MormonBot Mitt Fuggin’ Romney was somehow the worst and most dangerous candidate the Republicans could offer. In 2016, up until Election Day itself, everyone assumed that HRC was a badly flawed candidate but would win anyway. And… we saw how that worked out. Complacency is literally deadly.

I was born when Reagan was still president. I’m just old enough to remember the efforts to impeach Clinton over forcing an intern to give him a BJ in the Oval Office (This led by the same Republicans making Donald Trump into a darling of the evangelical Christian right wing.) I’m definitely old enough to remember 9/11 and how America lost its mind after that, and I remember the Bush years. And, obviously, the contrast with Obama, the swing back toward Trump, and everything that has happened since. We can’t afford to do this again. We’re hanging by a thread as it is, and not just America, but the entire planet.

So yes. By all means, vote for Sanders in the primary. Then when November 3, 2020 rolls around, if you care about literally any of this at all, hold your nose if necessary and vote straight-ticket Democrat, from the president, to the House and Senate, to the state and local offices. I cannot put it more strongly than that.

#politics for ts #long post #anonymous #ask

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shijiujun · 4 years

Text

Time for some BL/Danmei novel recs!

You guys have probably (maybe) seen my novels list here - [X] - but it’s more for my own tracking than anything else, so here’s a brief list (I’ll probably do full ones of the ones I really love in another post, probably on Minmo).

The ones elaborated on below with the asterisks are the novels I’ve actually finished reading.

*since everyone more or less knows MXTX’s works - TGCF, MDZS and SVSSS, I’ll skip those!

1. SCI 迷案集 | SCI Mystery Series by 耳雅*

Summary: Bai Yutang and Zhan Zhao are childhood friends and rivals that end up working together under the newly established SCI unit as co-leads, with Bai Yutang providing the brawn as Captain and Zhan Zhao the brains as Vice Captain and the team’s resident genius psychologist. They solve cases together and slowly unravel a wider conspiracy that involves their parents’ generation and beyond. At the same time they also realize that they’re meant for each other!

Other CPs: Bai Jintang (Bai Yutang’s older brother) & the medical examiner, Gongsun Ce, Bai Chi (Bai Yutang’s younger cousin) & magician Zhao Zhen, and at least three other gay pairings, one of which is considered another main couple of sorts from Vol. 2 onwards

Status: Incomplete (Began in 2010, author is still going on strong with one chapter every one or two months, we’re halfway through Vol. 5 right now and it’s been 10 years ;-; Love that the author is going on strong!! Everyone on JJWXC are like “please author it’s okay if you go slow as long as you keep going we’re here for you” and jfc I understand the fear of this not completing, also when will Vol. 5 be completed and printed?!! I need to complete the collection)

Translations: Unfortunately, only the first volume has been translated well so far on novel updates. The one on Wattpad seems to have caught up, but I would not recommend that one.

Drama/Live-Action: Season 1 was filmed and released in 2018 under the same name with slightly changed names for the characters. Season 2 was supposed to start filming this month but... oh well. First season basically covered Vol. 1 novel from start to end.

*I love this one only because it was my very first danmei and so it’ll forever have a special place in my heart, and also because it’s still ongoing so ya know, I relive how much I love this every month

2. 成化十四年 | Cheng Hua’s Fourteenth Year (The Sleuth of Ming Dynasty) by 梦溪石*

Summary: Tang Fan, a prefectural judge, and Sui Zhou, a high ranking officer in the Embroidered Uniform Guards, meet while trying to solve a murder case. Both of them end up partnering very well together, Sui Zhou ends up inviting Tang Fan to live with him, and the rest is history. Through their days living together and solving cases + a larger conspiracy involving the royal palace, they fall in love. Adding to this mix is also Wang Zhi, a powerful, young eunuch who befriends the pair, and the three of them basically help the crown prince to overcome challenges and his enemies to become the next Emperor

Other CPs: None XD

Status: Complete!

Translations: Ongoing on several websites. I’m only translating relationship highlights, but here’s an introduction post I did for it, if you guys would like somewhere to start without getting too invested - [X]

Drama/Live-Action: The Sleuth of Ming Dynasty was released earlier this year, directed by Jackie Chan and starring Darren Chen and Paul Fu, but cases are a little different and there are new characters in the show that weren’t from the novel etc.

3. 杀破狼 | Shapolang by Priest*

Summary: Set in a steampunk universe where flying boats named ‘kites’ and flying armour exist. Young teenager Chang Geng lives with his mother and stepfather - the former abuses him and the latter neglects him, and the only person that he cares about (and cares about him) is Shen Shiliu, his (very young) godfather. He realizes his identity as a royal prince when the Man tribe invades his city and Shen Shiliu, whose real name is Gu Yun, turns out to be an army general whose duty was to protect Chang Geng in secret (among other things).

Chang Geng has been critically poisoned by his mother (who’s not actually his birth mother, if I recall she’s an aunt) which leads to him getting terrible dreams frequently with the end result of him being driven into insanity, while Gu Yun is half blind, half deaf due to poisoning + injury when he was much younger, and he can only regain his hearing and sight fully when he takes a medicine that is slowly losing its effectiveness with every dosage he has.

The both of them navigate learning about each other again, falling in love a few years later when Chang Geng is all grown up and also unravel conspiracies and fight bad guys (both external threats and internal as in the current Emperor and other parties) XD

*Note: The age old debate is that Gu Yun ‘preyed’ on and also ‘groomed’ Chang Geng, but I disagree and stand by the fact that Gu Yun was 90% of the time not around while Chang Geng grew from a teenager to a young adult as he was fighting wars elsewhere, while Chang Geng refused to stay at the Gu manor and insisted on running around, travelling on his own and seeing the world for a few years before they met again. And it was Chang Geng who’d always loved Gu Yun and devoted himself to caring about him, making advances on him etc. when he became an adult

Other CPs: Shen Yi (Gu Yun’s second-in-command) & Chen Qingxu (a renowned physician who ends up healing both Chang Geng and Gu Yun of their ailments)

Status: Complete!

Translations: Fully translated the last I heard, it’s up there in the list of holy grail BL/danmei novels, so I’m sure it’s done hahaha.

Drama/Live-Action: Filming in progress!

*This is up there in the hall of fame for danmei novels for more than just the amazing content and writing - It’s also famous for being one of the most complex novels ever. I don’t know how the translations team did it because DAMN it was complex and I read all my novels in Chinese without much issues but I was honestly STRUGGLING WITH this one and I went through some existential crisis while reading because I was like ‘did I ever learn Chinese, am I even Chinese’ XD

4. 默读 | Silent Reading by Priest*

Summary: Luo Wenzhou, a police captain, and his team including best friend and partner Tao Ran, face a few challenging cases that end up being small parts of a larger conspiracy, and end up having to consult with Fei Du, a flamboyant, charming and flirty, young and rich CEO, who Luo Wenzhou describes as someone who is an expert at ‘crimes’. Not deduction, not solving crimes, but someone who is familiar with how the murderer or culprits would commit crimes. Both Luo Wenzhou and Tao Ran know Fei Du well, because they first met when Fei Du was in high school, when he called the police because his mother had hanged herself in the house, and since then Tao Ran and Luo Wenzhou look out for him, spending holidays with him, giving him presents here and there. Luo Wenzhou and Fei Du overcome their misunderstandings of each other and fall in love while solving all the cases and the larger conspiracy behind it.

Other CPs: Tao Ran and someone he knew first from his school days or was a neighbour when he was younger, I can’t remember, but they meet again at a blind date and end up living in the same building on different floors XD

Status: Complete!

Translations: Complete!! There’s a huge post floating around on Tumblr with all the links (I can’t find it right now) and on Twitter you can also find the collated, epub versions etc.

Drama/Live-Action: Rights for a live-action was signed, no casting confirmation or set dates yet

5. 犯罪心理 | Criminal Psychology by 长洱*

Summary: Police captain Xing Conglian drags psychologist Lin Chen out of seclusion/hiding to solve a case that is indirectly tied to him. Lin Chen was involved in a case a few years ago that led to four deaths - these four victims were the sons/daughters of four of the five huge old-money (super rich) families in the country and these family members sought to make Lin Chen’s life very difficult for him afterwards by making him lose all the jobs he can find, by surveilling his every move and ensuring that he’s not happy etc. Because of that, he backed out of the police force as well and quietly lived as a school dorm administrator, which is where Xing Conglian finds him a few years later. Lin Chen fakes his death after the first case (not deliberately but kind of a by-the-way thing), but as fate would have it, he ends up meeting Xing Conglian on another case, and he decides that he’ll move in with him and also involve himself again, consequences be damned, and they fall in love!

Other CPs: None XD

Status: Complete!

Translations: I think it’s not complete yet.

Drama/Live-Action: None that I know of.

6. 死亡万花筒 | Kaleidoscope of Death by 西子绪* (MY ABSOLUTE FAVOURITE)

Summary: Supernatural setting where people who are about to die get a second chance to live. These individuals are either in the midst of a dangerous situation (for e.g. a shootout or a deadly mugging incident) or are about to get into accidents (for e.g. an entire bus going off a bridge or a chandelier dropping from above and crushing the person underneath) or are ill (recently diagnosed with cancer or are terminally ill with a condition for e.g.) - The list is endless, and in the situation between life and death, 12 doors will appear before them.

It is said that once these individuals finish all 12 doors, they will truly get a second chance at life and survive whatever cause of death they were imminently facing.

Each door represents a creepy, supernatural mystery, and Lin Qiushi finds himself in a strange place after opening a door when he was trying to enter his apartment one day. He meets Ruan Baijie, a beautiful, tall woman who he happens to meet, and they realize that in this strange world, he and other individuals who came through the door have to complete a given task, find a key and an exit door, and make it out alive. The others in the team (some of which have already gone through several doors) explain to Lin Qiushi, who is a first-timer, what the doors are about.

The catch is, if they die inside the door, in the real world, they’ll die immediately, by accident, throwing themselves off a building, or just throwing up blood until they die (just to name a few)

On the first night, however, three people are slaughtered and eaten by a long-haired ghost/creature. The good news is, Ruan Baijie isn’t all that she seems to be (for one, she’s not exactly a woman) and she takes a liking to Lin Qiushi immediately.

Other CPs: None XD

Status: Complete!

Translations: I think it’s not complete yet!

Drama/Live-Action: None that I know of, but honestly, this novel would be fricking EPIC as a live-action, and really creepy, but this is my all-time favourite novel, I kid you not!!!!

*I’m definitely doing a longer and more detailed to-read for KOD on my translation account, gosh you guys have no idea how much I love this.

7. 当年万里觅封侯 | Those Years in Quest of Honor Mine by 漫漫何其多

Summary: Yu She and Gu Wan were close friends for a short period of time when they were younger, but unfortunately their identities and positions meant that they were opponents. Yu She’s family was for the Second Prince and Gu Wan was taken in by the Sixth Prince’s family, but in the end it was the Second Prince who ended up getting to the throne, while the Sixth Prince was accused of treason and died somewhere far away at war after being captured. Gu Wan’s only wish was to keep the Fifth Prince’s children - Xuan Rui and a pair of twins, Xuan Yu and Xuan Congxin safe, and so he moves them to another province and asks the Emperor (the Second Prince) to demote Xuan Rui’s status to prove that they are no threat to the Emperor, if only to stay alive for another day.

However, their days of hardship have only just begun, and Gu Wan decides to namedrop Yu She, whose family is so powerful now, and claims that Yu She loves him and that he was wooing Gu Wan back in the days they knew each other so that officials and others would treat the children under his care better. A few years pass and Yu She doesn’t expose Gu Wan. Gu Wan thinks they can go on like this forever, until the Emperor asks Xuan Rui and the twins to head back to the palace for a visit.

Gu Wan meets Yu She again, but the boy he knew, who was gentle, a stickler for rules and a proper, well-mannered person, has changed almost completely. Cue palace conspiracies again, brothers fighting for the throne, scheming consorts etc. XD

Other CPs: None XD

Status: Complete!

Translations: I think it’s not complete yet but I’m not super sure on this

Drama/Live-Action: None that I know of!

*They came out with a new reprint edition three days ago and it’s gorgeous! And comes with amazing freebies, and I am a sucker and read it on the day of the printed novel release because I saw the art and loved it, wanted to see if the story was any good, and damn after chapter 2 I WAS GONE and then I checked out two copies from different stores for the two different sets of freebies

A list of those I haven’t read but I see are highly raved about:

1. 二哈和他的白猫师尊 | The Husky & His White Cat Shizun by Meatbun

- I’ve already been spoiled and I know what goes on mostly, and there are a lot of warnings for a reason, but I’m still a fan, and let’s not get into the debate on the content, I know I have to read this but the angst level is apparently ridiculous, so I need like some mental preparation before I sit down for it.

2. 千秋 | A Thousand Autumns by 梦溪石

3. 烈火浇愁 | Lie Huo Jiao Chou by Priest

4. 将进酒 | Qiang Jing Jiu by 唐酒卿

- A really good group of translators picked this up initially on Twitter, but then assholes were complaining that they were being too slow and insisting that machine translation (MTL) did an equally good and faster job, so the OG dropped it, and then another nice team picked it up, but MTL team is still being an asshole XD I’ve heard really good things about this one, it’s apparently quite complex as well, I’d liken it to Shapolang level? But it might be even more complex (with a lot of politics and stuff), so much so that apparently the printed novel comes with a relationship/character chart so readers are at any point in time clear on the characters which is like amazing XD

#danmei #bl novels #novel recs #sci谜案集 #kaleidoscope of death #silent reading #shapolang #犯罪心理 #成化十四年 #the sleuth of ming dynasty #2ha #priest #梦溪石 #meatbun #西子绪 #耳雅 #长洱

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lockefanfic · 3 years

Text

Business Trip: Pt 44 - Meeting

Park Choa was great at hiding her orgasms.

Perhaps it was experience borne from all those afternoons when you bent her your desk while you pounded her from behind, your office door open the whole while. Or when you pressed her against the wall of a bathroom stall and pinned her against it with your cock, even as your colleagues stepped in and out of the bathroom unaware of what was going on in one of the stalls just a few feet away. Or when she sat on the conference room table, legs spread atop it while you devoured her slick, dripping pussy even as your fellow employees held a conversation in the hallway just past the open door.

Regardless of how she learned how to do it, her ability to appear normal and unbothered, even as an orgasm coursed through her veins, was admirable - on top of being a wicked delight to watch.

From the point of view of the laptop’s webcam, only the white knuckle fist made by her small, pale hand and the slight blush of pink on her cheeks betrayed the fact that wave after wave of pleasure was wracking her senses.

Only from your point of view, sitting next to her, could one see that the blush on her cheeks extended to her quivering, trembling thighs - spread widely to allow Kim Dahyun enough room to press her pale, cute little face against her colleague’s dripping pussy. Choa’s other hand strokes the younger girl’s hair almost lazily, as though she hadn’t just brought her to an orgasm that she was only barely managing to hide.

“Officer Douma has informed us that Rose will be extradited to Canada, where she’ll face the charges that have been levelled against her,” you state to the other participant of the meeting, who, thankfully for you and Choa, was in an entirely different country. “Rose will be transported to Haneda International by Officers Douma and Miyawaki two days from now. Officer Miyawaki will inform me the second she’s on the plane.”

“That’s good news,” JYP answers from the laptop screen. From the serious expression on his face you knew he had no idea of what was going on beneath the table. “Were you able to get any leads from Rose before she was taken away?”

“Yes. We were able to get the location of Blackpink’s Japanese safehouse. Rose denied any involvement with Seulgi or Yeri, but she implied that Blackpink is aware of their presence in Japan, and we expect to find leads on them when we make contact with the remaining Blackpink members.”

JYP takes a moment to digest your news, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Next to you Dahyun lifts her head from between Choa’s thighs, her own chin glistening with the older girl’s juices. Her tongue darts out to lick the slick wetness from her lips, a smile appearing on her face as she savors her colleague’s sweet, tangy taste on her palette.

“Proceed carefully,” JYP states after a short silence, “the safety of you and your team is paramount. I want you to leave any dangerous on-site activities to the law enforcement officers.”

“Understood,” you reply, understanding JYP’s reluctance to place you or your team in danger given the events of the past month.

“On a much lighter note, I think we have the head of our European offices to thank for her role in Rose’s capture!” JYP states, turning to Choa with a wide, proud grin on his face.

Choa takes a moment to respond - a split second pause, and one JYP could likely chalk up to a momentary internet lag spike - but one you knew was caused by the fact that the flushed, blushing woman was still recovering from her post-orgasm haze.

“Y-yes, s-sir,” Choa answers, taking a moment to compose herself. “It was a small thing, really. It was you who hatched the plan.”

“Stil, without you informing us of Rose’s warrant in the Netherlands, the plan never could have happened. Job well done, Miss Park.”

“Thank you, s-sir,” Choa answers. You hazard a glimpse down beneath the desk to see that Dahyun had begun to clean the older woman’s thighs and crotch of her spilt juices, her pink tongue darting out in wide strokes to lick the slick wetness from the soft, flushed skin between Choa’s thighs.

“What are your next steps?” JYP answers, turning to you again. Next to you, Choa lets a soft sigh escape her lips, although she covers it up by faking a small cough shortly thereafter.

“We’re going to be setting up surveillance of the Blackpink safehouse,” you begin, “and we’ll proceed from there.”

“Okay. Remember - safety first. We’ve had enough close brushes with danger,” JYP replies. You nod, understanding his implication that one of your team members was currently still in Korea recovering from a gunshot wound.

“She tells me she’s doing much better,” you say. Jeongyeon had bombarded you with texts and calls regularly, wanting to know everything about what was going on with the team.

“She is. Seolhyun checks on her every day. She can walk on her own now, much to the chagrin of the nurses at the hospital. She disappears from her hospital room quite often, I’m told. Apparently she’s unsatisfied with the hospital’s wi-fi and is on the hunt for a better signal.”

The thought of Jeongyeon wandering the halls of the hospital holding up her laptop looking for a signal brought a smile to your face.

“She’s chomping at the bit to return to you and the team,” JYP continues. “Her doctors and I have tried to convince her that she should take a month or two away to recover, but she seems adamant in her desire to join you in Japan once she’s medically cleared.”

“We look forward to her return, but we trust you’ll be able to keep her from returning to duty before she’s ready, sir,” you state.

“I’ll do my best, but I don’t know if anything can stop that girl when she decides she wants to do something,” JYP answers, thoughtfully. “Anyway, I think that does it for the update. Keep up the good work and keep me in the loop of any new developments. I believe I’m to meet with Miss Kim next for a logistics and technology update?”

Miss Kim was currently on her knees licking the last of Choa’s juices from her thighs, but you make a show of pretending she was actually outside the room, ready and waiting to join the meeting.

“Yes, sir. I’ll call her in.”

JYP nods, giving you and Choa a last affirmative smile that you both return. Choa awkwardly pulls her short miniskirt down before she shuffles off camera; Dahyun, smartly, crawls on her knees to the other side of the table where she rises to her feet, wipes the last of Choa’s juices from her lips, and smooths out her dress before stepping into the shot, taking Choa’s seat to give off the impression she had just walked into the room.

“Hello, sir!” Dahyun greets, raising her hand and giving her boss a cute little wave, looking for all intents and purposes like she was shooting a commercial and hadn’t just spent the last twenty minutes tongue-deep in her colleague.

You move towards the office exit, smiling at the cute post-orgasm blush that still lingered on Choa’s cheeks. Your former executive assistant had grown her hair out to a shoulder length and dyed it a darker brown - far from the short blonde bob that was once her trademark. But her new haircut and less intense makeup style had given her a more mature, womanly look. Before, she was a cute little minx prancing around the office in a short miniskirt and tight white blouse - and while the short miniskirt and white blouse remained, the creature that filled it was a more experienced, more mature feline than the one that was your executive assistant.

Your hand reaches for the doorknob, but is stopped halfway there by Choa’s pale hand on your wrist. When you lock eyes with her you find a look you’d seen on many an afternoon.

She steps close, her hand travelling up your arm to squeeze a bicep. She brings her mouth to your ear, whispering low enough to ensure that neither Dahyun nor JYP could hear.

“I think we might need an afternoon meeting to… debrief, don’t you agree, sir?”

You could feel from the movement of her cheek against yours that her lips have curled into a wicked smile. You’d known that a “meeting” with Choa was an inevitability given her return, but you hadn’t had time to indulge her given how busy you were with Rose and then Sakura. You return her smile with one of your own, eager to take the eager woman up to your hotel room to make up for lost time.

Your hand reaches for the doorknob again, only to be stopped once more.

Choa looks you in the eye before raising a hand and wagging a finger tip in a “no” motion. Then she places the same fingertip at her mouth to indicate silence.

Over her shoulder you glance at Dahyun, who had begun to give her update to JYP over the videoconference call. You finally catch on to Choa’s plan, and the devilish grin on her lips is soon mirrored on your own.

Giving you a long, lustful look, Choa turns and steps towards the other end of the conference room table, leaning over it while facing Dahyun. Dahyun is momentarily distracted by her colleague, but soon returns her attention to JYP, even if you could tell by the way she had begun to squirm in her seat that she was already caught on to what was about to happen in front of her.

Satisfied that she had her younger colleague’s attention, Choa slips her blue cardigan from her shoulders and looks back at you, still lingering by the entrance to the conference room. Without breaking eye contact, she reaches down to the hem of her miniskirt and pulls it up to her waist, revealing her full, round, naked ass - and her still-glistening thighs.

You lick your lips, and giving thanks for her reappearance in your life, you step behind Choa.

Your arms start at her sides, caressing her thin waist and the delicious flare of her hips. When your fingertips finally reach her naked ass she trembles slightly, her mouth frozen in an open “o” as your touch reignites the long-dormant lust she’d once held for you. You give both her cheeks a squeeze, delighting in the fact that they’d lost none of their firmness or perkiness in her time away.

You need to feel more of her, need to reintroduce yourself to the tight little body that you’d spent many an afternoon pounding into submission. You’d had Park Choa bent over your desk, pressed against the wall, had her ride you in your office chair more times than you could count. But you never tired of her, never tired of filling her tight wet pussy or hot needy mouth with your cum almost every afternoon. And as your fingers make their way to the buttons of the tight white blouse she wore, the reignited lust in your loins and the gathering saliva in your mouth convince you that your hunger for her had not waned in the slightest - if anything, her absence had only made you want her more.

When your fingers begin to undo Choa’s blouse, Dahyun lets a soft gasp escape her lips - one she covers up with a cough, as Choa did earlier.

“I’m sorry, sir. My throat is a little sore,” she apologizes, before quickly changing the subject and doing her best to delve into the logistics updates JYP had asked her for - even if her trembling fingers as she sorted through the paper files on the table betrayed the arousal that was quickly growing inside her.

Not even ten feet away, you have finally finished unbuttoning Choa’s blouse, revealing the smooth, milky skin of her torso - and the absence of a bra.

Your hands start at her waist before curling around to her front, finding and cupping both of her round, full breasts in your hands. You let a hot, needy breath escape your throat and into Choa’s ear as you press yourself against her. She reaches up with her left hand and runs it through your hair - you reciprocate the affection and place soft kisses against the side of her face before she turns her head and captures your lips with hers, your tongues quickly reintroducing themselves to each other. The fingernails of the hand in your hair dig into your scalp, almost painfully, as you finally capture the woman’s stiff nipples in your hands, teasing and pinching the tight nubs between your thumb and index fingers.

Dahyun coughs again.

“Do you need to grab a glass of water, Miss Kim? Your throat sounds quite dry,” JYP asks, concerned.

“Oh, no, not at all, s-sir. I’m quite f-fine,” Dahyun answers, “I’m far from d-dry.”

You can almost feel Choa struggle to suppress a chuckle against your lips - but she soon has little time for that as you begin to slip your right hand down her torso, past a flat, tight stomach and the front of her skirt, still bunched up around her waist. When you reach her naked crotch, it doesn’t take long to find her slick, dripping folds.

The hand in your scalp digs deeper into your skull. Her free hand tightens around your wrist in a deathgrip. She only barely manages to stifle a short gasp of pleasure that escapes her throat.

You’d had enough. You’d been without Park Choa’s body for too long. Your free hand releases her trembling breast from its grip before quickly undoing your own belt and zipper, finally freeing your stiff cock from its confines to slap thickly against Choa’s lower back. Choa gasps at the feeling of your meat against her skin - a wordless sound of happiness, a feeling of relief at having been returned something she’d gone too long without.

She turns her head as best she can, using the grip on your scalp to pull your head forward until her needy, gasping lips are next to your ear.

“Fuck me now please, sir.”

Choa was wet and dripping and needy, still recovering from Dahyun’s oral work just minutes before. Your cock ached to be inside her body, having been away from it for so long. And so when you enter her, slipping into her tight wet heat for the first time in many months, you both couldn’t help but let out a sharp, needy gasp of desire.

“Did you hear that, Miss Kim?” JYP asks suddenly.

“Hmm?” Dahyun answers, doing her best to brush off the lustful sound of her boss penetrating her colleague to the hilt only a few feet away. “Apologies, we’re using a conference room in the hotel and it’s p-possible that the m-microphone is picking up the noise of.. f-fellow g-guests.”

“Ah, understood,” JYP says, seemingly satisfied by Dahyun’s explanation. “Now, what was that you were saying about the surveillance equipment you needed?”

Dahyun does her best to continue the meeting, shuffling through the notebook and papers she had on her desk in an attempt to find some piece of information she needed as she tries, with mixed success, to continue the meeting with her boss. Not even a few feet away, you slowly begin to draw your cock out from Choa’s pussy, revelling in the tightness of her body and the way her lips gripped your glistening, slick cock as you withdraw until only the head of your cock is inside her. You relish the sight of her squirming, trembling, almost begging to be filled once more - until you push back inside her with a smooth, deep thrust.

Choa was every bit as tight and wet and hot as you remembered. You’d been with more than your fair share of women in the time since she’d left your team - many of whom were younger, hotter, tighter or wetter. But there was something about Choa that attracted you like no other woman in your life. Maybe it was the inherent maturity she held, the sly, demure, confident sexiness she’d always exuded. Other women, like Mina, for example, gave off an ice queen princess persona that was attractive if intimidating. Others, like Sana, wore their allure freely and openly, like a perfume.

Choa didn’t need to do either. Her sexiness was a mature, reserved sexiness, the kind worn by a woman who knew all the rules of the game, knew how to play it, and didn’t need the overbearing exuberance or mind games of her more youthful colleagues to win it. Maybe it was her confidence, the way she carried herself that aroused you the most.

Or maybe it was the fact that despite the confidence she held in her personal and professional life, she loved - craved - being dominated by you.

Her body was every bit as sexy as her younger compatriots, tight and firm in all the right places. Her pussy tightens and pulsates around you, adjusting to your girth as its owner reacquainted herself with your stiff cock, her mouth frozen in a wordless, soundless “o”, eyes shut as she tried to relish every thrust, every entry and exit in and out of her needy, wanton body.

Your hands wander - crushing her hips in your grip, squeezing a needy, bouncing breast, grasping a shoulder to give yourself better leverage to pound deeper and deeper into Choa’s body. She leans forward, bracing herself now against the table with her hands, bending over to allow you to fully take her, fully use her body for your own needs. Choa throws her head back, bites her lip, tries to do anything to keep the lustful, wordless cries of pleasure from escaping needy, trembling lips.

Her open blouse lets her naked breasts bounce wildly with each slap of your hips against her ass. Your swinging balls slap her wet flesh with each hilt-deep penetration - and for a moment, the feel of her wet flesh on your balls as her juices drip down your sack causes you to forget that you were both trying to be silent as you pound Choa’s wet, hot pussy on the conference room table, the echo of wet flesh hitting wet flesh steadily rising in volume until it filled the room.

“Do you hear that, Miss Kim?” JYP asks, “...that slapping sound?”

“Y-yes, I-I think I-do,” Dahyun responds, thankful that she could probably blame the internet connection for the stutter she had developed whenever she was aroused. A quick glance at her confirmed that only one of her hands was above the table now, the other likely busy between her legs. To her credit she tried her best to look confused, glancing around the room as though she were genuinely puzzled as to where the sound was coming from. “I t-think it must b-be some construction or-or something going on n-nearby. T-there’s a lot of… hammering going on, sir.”

“Ah,” JYP answers. “It sounds like they’re really pounding away at something.”

“Y-yes, it definitely d-does, sir!” Dahyun answers, perhaps a little more enthusiastically than she was hoping. Her cheeks flushed, she does her best to change the subject. “I h-hope they finish th-their work soon, b-because I can’t bear t-to hear it for much longer!”

“I understand, Miss Kim. It must be difficult to work in those circumstances. Perhaps you might want to look into making arrangements to have the team work in one of those co-op working spaces that are all the rage lately. It’s important that the team have a suitable working environment, without any bothersome distractions going on in the background.”

“Y-yes, sir. I-I’ll d-do it right away. I’ll d-definitely make sure th-they can pound away on t-their work for as long as they need, without interruption!”

You would have smiled, would have giggled at the sight of Dahyun trying so desperately to maintain some semblance of professionalism during her meeting - but you had little time for such concerns, not when Choa’s pussy was pulsating around you, each thrust into her needy, wet hole making her tighten in anticipation for an orgasm that was just around the corner.

Choa’s hands search desperately for something on the table to grip, something to use as an anchor for her quivering, trembling body. Unable to find anything, she whips a hand back and finds your scalp again. But you are almost angered, almost irritated by her painful grip on your skull, and you feel a dark need to take her, dominate her the way you used to on many an afternoon in your office back home. You wanted to take her, use her the way you knew she wanted and loved to be used.

You grasp her hand by her wrist and tear it from your scalp, taking her other wrist and pinning both to her lower back. She falls forward onto the table with a thud, her cheek and naked breasts pressed flat against it. With your other hand you reach forward and grasp a handful of her dark chestnut hair, pulling her head back, opening up her throat and relishing the deep, lustful moan that leaves her throat - uncaring of the fact that her boss was on the other side of video conference call just a few feet away.

“Mmmfffmfmmuhnnngh!” she gasps, too far gone, too far lost in the bliss caused by your pounding cock that she could have cared less if JYP were actually in the room with you, watching you pound her over the conference room table. All she cared about was each thrust, each penetration, each entry of your thick, hard cock into her needy, hot wet pussy.

Choa orgasms, and Dahyun, seeing what was about to happen, reacts swiftly.

“Ahahhhehem!” Dahyun shouts as she pretends to sneeze - just loud enough to cover the needy, lustful moan of pleasure that leaves Choa’s throat. “I’m so s-sorry sir, I think I may be… coming... down with s-something.”

“Oh, no,” JYP says with what sounded like genuine concern. “Please take care of yourself, Miss Kim. If you need a day or two to rest, please don’t hesitate to let your boss know-”

“Oh I t-think I’ll b-be okay, s-sir. I w-want t-to cum t-”

“Miss Kim?”

“Oh! Sorry s-sir. I meant to s-say, I want to come to work! Y-yes, that’s it. A-apologies, sir, there must be something wrong with the internet c-connection. S-shall we w-wrap up t-this meeting before t-the connection d-dies?”

Dahyun does her best to finish up the meeting - you do your best to keep from cumming too soon, even as Choa’s pussy pulsates and throbs around your pistoning cock as you fuck her through her orgasm.

Your grip tightens on her hair, your other hand pinning her wrists tightly against the small of her back. The dominance you were exerting over Choa was utterly intoxicating, the feel of her body catering to your every whim making you dizzy with pleasure. The call of your orgasm beckoned once more, and this time you were happy to answer.

Thrusting as deeply inside Park Choa’s slick, needy pussy as you could, you finally let your orgasm overtake you. Thick, hot ropes of semen shoot deep inside her body, painting her walls with warm white cum. Choa lets a soft whimper escape her lips with each burst of semen that fills her pussy, biting her lip in an only half-successful attempt to muffle the wordless moans of pleasure from escaping her mouth as she is filled to the brim with cum.

You slump forward, finally releasing Choa’s wrists and hair as your strength finally gives out. You only barely manage to hold yourself up by your forearms as you breathe heavily, filling starved lungs with oxygen as the exertion of the quick but intensely pleasurable fuck finally overwhelms you. Choa is equally a mess, her face plastered by her cheek to the table, the hot mist of her heavy breathing evident on the dark polished wood. You are vaguely aware of Dahyun wrapping up her meeting with JYP, but her voice sounds distant and foggy, as though she is far away - the only sensation that mattered was the warm, hot, pulsating wetness that surrounded your cock and the juices, yours and Choa’s, that had begun to leak from her cum-stuffed hole to drip down her trembling thighs and onto the floor of the conference room.

Eventually Choa gathers the strength to raise her upper body from the desk, still breathing heavily. Her blouse slips from her shoulder, leaving her almost topless. You couldn’t help but snake an arm around to caress and squeeze a full breast, softly, tenderly, thankful to be able to partake in the pleasures of her body again. Choa turns her head to whisper into your ear once more.

“That was a… productive meeting, sir - just like old times.”

“Definitely,” you whisper back.

“I think that’s everything, Miss Kim,” JYP states. Judging by his tone you could tell he had no idea that two of his staff had just fucked each others’ brains out just outside the view of his camera. “Job well done, as always.”

“T-thank you, s-sir. I-I t-think it’s t-time for me to c-clean up here. G-good night!”

Dahyun waves quickly to the webcam before slamming the laptop shut. Choa, still impaled to the hilt with your cock, turns to Dahyun with a sly smile.

“I never had the chance to provide you with training on your position before I left, Miss Kim. We do want to make sure you are able to execute all the duties associated with your position, don’t we, sir?”

“We do,” you agree. You squeeze Choa’s breast a little tighter, eliciting a warm growl of approval from the woman and a whimper of pleasure from Dahyun as she watches you toy with Choa’s chest. The idea of Choa dominating another woman even as she allowed herself to be dominated in turn was utterly arousing.

“Good. Your first training session begins in twenty minutes, Miss Kim - in your boss’ hotel room. Don’t be late.”

---

“Velvet 1, report in.”

“Overwatch, Velvet 1. Nothing to report, over.” Irene responds into the radio, her tone straightforward and no-nonsense.

“Same shit, different hour - as I’m sure you can tell from the video feed,” Momo chirps from somewhere off-camera. There is a sound on the radio that sounded a bit like a sigh from Jihyo, who was sitting in the driver’s seat.

The surveillance camera that Jihyo, Irene and Momo are operating from inside the van parked opposite Blackpink’s safehouse doesn’t show it, but you could tell that Momo and Jihyo were as bored as you were, even if Irene seemed alert, professional, and businesslike.

“Velvet 1, Overwatch. Understood. Out,” Nayeon says, clicking a button on the radio console and turning off the connection to the surveillance van. Two days of surveillance on the Blackpink house, in a nondescript middle-class neighborhood of Tokyo, were fruitless thus far - not a single person had been spotted entering or leaving, despite your team maintaining a 24 hour watch on it in rotating shifts. The surveillance camera feed being streamed from Irene’s camera may as well have been a still picture.

The rear of the command and control van, parked two blocks away from the surveillance van, was starting to feel a little cramped. You would’ve given anything to step out of it, even for a few minutes, to stretch your legs. Nayeon and Jihyo, however, had been adamant that you stay inside for security purposes.

You were thankful, at least, that Choa had volunteered for this shift. The session with her and Dahyun had been quite a memorable one, lasting most of the afternoon and almost making you both late for the start of the shift with Nayeon. The image of Choa on all fours as she crawled atop Dahyun’s body was still fresh on your mind - as was the feeling of both of their tight, dripping pussies as you took turns fucking both of them in that position before spilling your cum on Dahyun’s milky, creamy stomach at Choa’s behest.

It was thus understandable, given her recent expenditure of energy, that Choa was the first to fall asleep, dozing away with her head leaning against the passenger seat of the van. You found yourself smiling to yourself as you listened to her snore softly, thankful that she was back in your life. The past couple of months without her had been taxing, to say the least, but they were made even more so by Choa’s absence. She had long been a stabilizing, reliable force in your life and without her steady support you found yourself a little less ready to deal with the constant twists and turns of your line of work.

You stretch your arms and legs as best you could given the van’s cramped cabin before a small yawn escapes your lips.

“You can take a nap, it’s fine,” Nayeon says, as if reading your mind. “We’ll wake you up if anything happens. Choa has the next watch, anyway. Just pass me one of those bananas before you doze off,” she says, motioning with her chin towards the grocery store bag of packaged food and drink that was meant to last the three of you for the entirety of your eight hour shift.

You smile back as you grab one of the fruits from the corner store grocery bag and hand it to her.

“This shit is bananas! B-A-N-A-N-A-S!” she sings softly to herself as she returns her attention back to the monitors, humming the tune to the song as she peels the banana.

“Don’t take advantage of me when I’m asleep,” you say jokingly as you try to make yourself as comfortable as possible on the van floor.

“Don’t worry, you wouldn’t even know it if I did. I’m a ninja. N-I-N-J-J-A!” she sings to the tune of the song.

“There’s only one-”

Nayeon looks quizzically at you, legitimately puzzled as to what you were about to say.

“...Nothing. Good night, Nayeon.”

“Sweet dreams,” she says with a soft smile as she takes a bite of her banana.

---

You awaken to the sound of raised voices.

“Are you sure? Jihyo, does he match any descriptions we have of Blackpink associates?”

“No,” Jihyo replies over the radio. “Negative ID.”

“We should fucking grab him,” Nayeon hisses under her breath.

“What? No, we’re here for surveillance, not kicking down doors,” says Momo over the radio. “Let’s step back and watch what he does. We should contact Officer Miyawaki - she’s escorting Rose to the airport and she should be informed before-”

“I’m not gonna sit in this van for another two days twiddling my thumbs,” Nayeon snaps. “The sooner we track down Blackpink the sooner we track down Seulgi and Yeri. Jihyo, are you with me?”

There is a moment of hesitation that is palpable even over the radio as Jihyo considers the situation.

“Yes,” Jihyo states. “Time is of the essence here. The house is clearly empty, and has been for a while. We might never get this chance again.”

“Wait, what the fuck is going on?” you say, wiping the sleep from your eyes. You crawl on the floor of the van to where Nayeon and Choa are hunched over the radio and video feeds.

“Irene spotted a male walking into the safehouse while I was on watch,” Choa explains. “He’s alone and approached the building on foot.”

Nayeon retrieves her kevlar vest from the storage racks opposite the monitor, strapping it on quickly before turning back to the radio. “Jihyo, let’s move-”

“That’s crazy,” Momo snaps over the radio. “Let’s think about this. This could be a trap. Or it could just be that Rose was lying to us all along and this house has nothing to do with Blackpink. Let’s get Officer Miyawaki here to ID this guy - maybe he’s on the Tokyo PD database or something. Then we can-”

“They know where Seulgi and Yeri are,” Nayeon interrupts, her tone sharp. “Or haven’t you been paying attention? Seulgi fucking shot me, and it’s only dumb fucking luck that Yeri didn’t kill Jeongyeon. Isn’t that our goal? To track down Seulgi and Yeri? ”

“No, our goal is to bring down Blackpink,” Momo replies, her voice raised. “It’s them that manipulated Irene into everything she did. Or is it you that hasn’t been paying attention, Officer Im?”

The use of Nayeon’s last name and title must have been the tipping point for the older woman.

“You know what, I don’t fucking take orders from you, Miss Hirai. Jihyo, meet me on the corner. We’re moving on the house.”

“Nayeon, wait,” you say quickly, grabbing the heated young officer by her upper arm as she makes to exit the van. “Let’s slow down and think about this.”

“What is there to think about? We’ve been sitting here for two days waiting for an opportunity. Here it is, right in front of us.”

You shake your head, trying to make sense of the situation.

“Are you sure this is the best course of action? Something doesn’t feel right.”

“Of course I do,” Nayeon replies. The confidence in her eyes is unmistakable - it was a look you were familiar with. “The fact that there’s no one in the house means that this isn’t Blackpink’s primary safehouse. We need to move on this guy - if he’s there on Blackpink’s orders he probably knows where they actually are. If he slips away, he might never come back.”

Your grip loosens on Nayeon’s arm, but doesn’t leave it.

“Let me go,” she says, her voice unexpectedly soft. “Please.”

You sit there in silence for a few moments - the moment seemed to drag on as you slowly, finally let go of Nayeon’s arm.

“Okay,” you finally say.

Nayeon gives you a final nod, before swinging open the rear door of the van, drawing her pistol and racking the slide to chamber a round, and then running towards the safehouse.

---

The streaming feed from Nayeon’s vest camera was surprisingly clear - with her pistol held out in front of her it seemed almost like a screenshot from a frighteningly realistic video game. Except this was far from a game, and the consequences and danger were very real.

“Police! Come out with your hands up!” Nayeon shouts into the doorway. Opposite her, on the other side of the door, is Jihyo.

“Police! Come out now!” Nayeon repeats.

When there is no answer, Nayeon turns to Jihyo, who nods in understanding. The younger officer reaches for the doorknob, finding it unlocked. Hand still on the knob, she nods towards Nayeon, who seems to give her the go-ahead.

A second later Jihyo pushes the door open, and Nayeon steps into the house.

“Police! Come out with your hands up!” Nayeon shouts, her pistol held in front of her as she scans the entrance foyer. Jihyo follows her into the home. On the small genkan area next to the door are a single pair of shoes - indicating that the male suspect was the only person in the house.

“Room right,” Nayeon states, her eyes not moving from the hallway as she identifies the presence of a large living room space to the right of the entrance. As soon as Jihyo enters the foyer she enters the living room, Nayeon following soon after, pistol sweeping up and following her line of sight.

With well-practiced precision the two officers clear the bottom floor of the house, always covering each others’ backs, relying on quick, prompt verbal communications and commands to swiftly and efficiently sweep the rooms and confirm that there were no threats on the ground floor.

“Moving to the second deck,” Nayeon says into the radio. It’s when she is halfway up the stairs that they hear a bedroom door slam shut upstairs.

“Hands up! Police! Hands up!” Nayeon and Jihyo shout, “Come out with your hands up! Do it now!”

When the upstairs individual makes no move to open the door, Nayeon and Jihyo quickly scramble up the stairs, each taking up position on either side of the door. Just as with the front door, Jihyo tests the doorknob, finding it unlocked, before nodding towards Nayeon. The older officer takes a moment to compose herself before nodding back.

For a moment, two blocks away in the surveillance van, time seemed to slow for you. You’d witnessed that sensation only once before - during the shooting in Seoul. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, and you were suddenly aware of every little detail in the feed of Nayeon’s vest camera - the way two strands of Jihyo’s hair fell into her eyes, the wood grain design on the bedroom door, the dark purple nail polish on Nayeon’s fingernails, wrapped around the grip of her Glock. You could almost feel that something important was waiting for her behind that door, and a small part of you wanted to freeze time long enough for you to run over to the house and stop her from opening it.

Jihyo opens the door, and Nayeon bursts into the room, pistol up and ready.

In the centre of the empty bedroom is a young teenager, dressed in all black. In his hands is what looked like a tablet of some sort.

“Put your fucking hands in the air! Do it now!” Nayeon shouts.

“Put your hands in the air or you will be shot!” Jihyo exclaims. The two officers take up positions in the room, both of their handguns aimed squarely at the terrified teen’s head.

The teenager, looking utterly terrified, begins to speak quickly in Japanese. He gestures towards the tablet in his hands, but his words come out garbled and slurred as the fear of being shot overtakes his ability to speak clearly. Jihyo nods to Nayeon, who nods back - the older woman keeps her pistol trained on the young man’s head as Jihyo approaches him, retrieves the tablet, and then proceeds to handcuff him.

“Blue 1 to Overwatch, we need a translator,” Nayeon says into the radio.

Two blocks away, you finally release the breath you were holding.

---

“He was paid to come to this house and leave this tablet here,” Momo says as she turns away from the sobbing, handcuffed teenager to face you and your team. “He says he was hired by some random user on a forum who told him the combination to a public storage locker in a nearby subway station. In the locker were his cash payment and the tablet. That’s all he knows.”

“Turn the tablet on,” you say, eager to see get to the bottom of what the hell was going on.

Nayeon holds the tablet’s power button down, and the screen comes to life as your team gathers around it.

---

The video was clearly shot on a handheld camera, if the jittery swaying was any indication. The camera is pointed at a dirty, dusty floor. There are nondescript cardboard boxes piled around with piles of clothing thrown atop them, along with several silhouettes that you eventually realize are mannequins.

There are murmurs in the background, barely audible. The video swings up, and a young woman of Asian descent, clearly the bearer of the camera itself, appears. She is cute, but there is a glint of instability in her wild eyes.

“Why hello there, my friends!” she begins, her tone equal parts playfulness and sarcasm. She is dressed in a punk-inspired rocker fit, with wildly dyed hair, loose black pants, webbed t-shirt and a sports bra. “If you’re watching this you’ve just missed me! Too bad!”

There is a murmur off-camera, and the young woman lets a look of faux embarrassment appear on her face.

“Oh, how rude of me! I’m Lisa, of a little group called Blackpink. We’re finally in your area! Annyeonghaseyo! Konnichiwa!”

Next to you, your team members shuffle anxiously. Nayeon clenches her fists. Momo lets an angry exhalation of breath escape her flared nostrils.

“I bet you’re wondering what this video is about, so I’m not gonna waste your time. We have a present for you! But first, let me introduce my good friend and teammate - Jisoo!”

She swings the camera around, pointing it at a similarly aged young woman who, judging by her name, was Korean. She seemed a stark contrast to her friend, with her more subdued clothing - and the blank, unreadable look on her face. Was it nervousness, anxiety, or something else?

Lisa turns the camera so she is facing it again.

“Time for our present! Ta-da!!”

The camera swings back to Jisoo - except this time it is panned more downward, to reveal two figures on their knees next to the Korean girl. Both have their hands bound behind their backs, and what appeared to be burlap bags thrown over their heads. From the muffled sounds leaving the masks, they both appeared to have their mouths gagged.

“Why don’t you unwrap their presents for them, Jisoo?”

Jisoo hesitates for a moment as an unreadable look flashes over her features. Regret? Disgust? Whatever it was, it was there only for a moment - and she removes the burlap sacks from their captives to reveal Seulgi and Yeri, their mouths bound by cloth gags. Both struggle in their bonds, but Seulgi especially had a fire in her eyes that told you she’d be happy to tear the heads off of her captors if she could.

In the room Irene lets an audible gasp escape her lips - she had been stoic and emotionless since she had joined the team, but the sight of her closest friends bound and at the mercy of her enemies was finally enough to break her stony faced facade.

“I’m going to kill her,” Irene hisses, barely audible, but with unmistakable conviction.

Lisa pans the camera back to Jisoo. “Aren’t our presents great, Jisoo? Do you think they’ll like them?”

Jisoo’s face remains unreadable - although for a moment she looks directly into the camera. She blinks rapidly, eyes shutting and opening at random intervals, as though she had dust in her eyes.

“Anyway------,” Lisa says, awkwardly, as her teammate doesn’t give her the reaction she was looking for. She turns the camera back to herself, the expression on her face leading you to believe she was uncomfortable with her teammate’s behaviour. “We have one last surprise for our friends... but I think Officer Miyawaki might be better positioned to tell you what it is. By the time you watch this, her surprise should be ready, so go give her a call and find out what it is! That does it for me.Toodles! Say bye, Jisoo!”

Lisa turns the camera to Jisoo, but the sullen girl has already looked away, her sad eyes on Seulgi and Yeri as the video cuts to black. A few moments of silence pass as your teammates digest what they had just witnessed.

“I know where they are,” Irene states.

---

The ringing dial tone of Sakura’s phone seemed to last forever as you wait for her to pick up. You were more than a little terrified at what her part of the “gift” was, and already your mind was beginning to fear the worst.

When Sakura finally answers, the first thing you hear is a wet, coughing sound.

“What the- Sakura, Sakura! Are you alright?” you say into your phone.

For a few moments there is no reply. Sakura’s coughing fit continues. In the background another woman is similarly coughing heavily. The other woman attempts to spit in a vain attempt to clear her mouth and throat of whatever was ailing her, before releasing a string of profanities in English and one other vaguely European language.

“Sakura! Sakura, are you okay? Where are you?” you repeat.

“I-I’m fine,” she says, finally. In the background, police sirens wail. The other woman begins to speak into a radio, every word sounding as though it was painful to speak.

“Th-this is Officer Douma. We- we…”

“Somi!” Sakura snaps. “Somi, are you broken?”

“I-I’m okay. Are you good?”

“I-I’m good. The- the prisoner!”

“Shit!”

There is the sound of heavy footsteps on broken glass and a few painful sounding profanities as one or both of the women attempt to stand.

“Fuck, fuck! She’s fucking gone!” Somi exclaims.

“What!?” you half-shout into your phone, “Sakura, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

Another wet cough. Sakura spits, trying to clear her throat.

“Our ride to the airport got hit by something,” she manages to say. “And Rose - she’s gone.”

---

Author’s Note: :O

Thanks as always for your support!

Shout out to @thelastdrop lol.

#kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #male reader #pov smut #aoa choa #AoA #park choa #business trip #twice #twice dahyun #Kim dahyun

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alwaysmychoices · 3 years

Text

Ski Resort

Synopsis: After declaring her intention to leave medicine forever, Charlie must join the Diagnostics Team for one more case before Ethan will let her retire. But once they’re trapped in the ski resort, Charlie gets tangled in the mystery, and she begins to wonder if she should really leave medicine or if it’s time to come back.

Chapter 26 of the “with and without” series

Previous Series: “a weekend with dr. ramsey”

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x MC (Charlotte “Charlie” Greene)

Words: 5.5k (sorry, I tried so hard to cut it down)

Rating: Teen

Also available on AO3 & Wattpad (link in Masterlist)

The drive to the ski resort was uncomfortably quiet. Ethan and Charlie didn't speak a word, not even when Baz tried to play car games or entertain the captive group with stories.

No, Ethan and Charlie weren't going to speak – or rather, Ethan wasn't going to speak until Charlie did, and Charlie wasn't going to say a thing.

The fight in Ethan's office had cooled to begrudging acceptance. Despite her objections, Charlie put on her coat, read the patient information, and piled in the car with the rest of the diagnostics team just as Ethan insisted. But her cooperation extended only that far.

Ethan was sure that she was furious in the back seat – so sure that he kept looking back to her in the rearview to see if her expression had soured any further.

But Ethan wasn't right about everything.

Charlie wasn't angry – or if she was, it was secondarily not primarily.

She was anxious.

Anxious to be back at work and interacting with critical patients when her confidence in herself and her skills had never been lower. Anxious to stand on the precipice of her entire future – for if she failed today, she wouldn't be a doctor, and if she didn't, she'd have to face fears buried deep in her soul.

It wasn't that she held her tongue because she would have hurled insults otherwise. She held her tongue because she simply couldn't bear to say anything at all.

June and Baz sensed the discomfort, though they were kind enough to not comment on it. Baz tried his best to lessen the uneasiness with music and diverting conversion, none of which stuck. June was more intrigued, maybe even suspicious.

They'd both been surprised when Charlie joined the expedition after her long absence, but Baz was much more willing to accept the sudden return and be thankful for it. June couldn't shake her curiosity.

After all, why had Charlie suddenly returned from leave for this one case? Why was the relationship between Charlie and Ethan, which had once been friendly, now so tense?

Being scrutinized only made Charlie feel worse.

It was a relief for all parties when they arrived at the ski resort.

Any other day, Charlie would have stopped and marveled at the sight.

Perfect, white snow coated the landscape and the resort. Smoke billowed from the central fireplace, promising warmth and comfort inside. Snow-capped trees climbed Mount Dagger and dotted the landscape. Even with layers and layers of footprints marring the snow and a large resort looming in the background, this place felt serene and untouched somehow.

It was so different from the heat and sunshine Charlie had grown up with.

Part of her wished she could have leaned into Ethan and marveled at the place, letting him tease her for her unfamiliarity and inexperience with snow. She realized that winter had only been pain and survival for them. She had the urge to change that somehow – to throw a snowball or challenge him to make snow angels.

But instead, Charlie just trudged along, keeping the urges to herself and remaining silent.

The owner, Rodney, was a friend of Ethan's. He greeted them all warmly and thanked them for their time. On the way to the patient's room, he offered charming anecdotes about Ethan's childhood and their friendship. Charlie wished she could have engaged more, but it was all becoming too real. In mere moments, she would be a working doctor again – a dream that had become a nightmare.

Paula and her son, Timothy, waited in their hotel room.

In the end, they weren't nearly as frightening as Charlie had imagined them. The entire drive, she morphed her patient experience into that of death and destruction, and she'd forgotten how mundane interactions could really be. Even Paula's defiance and complaints felt tame in the face of all Charlie had been through.

During the initial interview, Charlie didn't resume the active role she'd once had on the team. Instead, it was Ethan who drove the questioning, with June acting as his secondary. The team had found their new rhythm in her absence, and they seemed to know that Charlie was purposefully not stepping into her old shoes.

Ethan was disappointed.

To an outsider, she would have looked like a student rather than a member of the team. She stood in the back of the group, her mouth closed and ideas kept to herself. It could have read as disinterest, though Ethan highly doubted Charlie could confront a mystery and not be enthralled. No, it must have been something else. Anger maybe. Perhaps she wasn't ready, just as she'd warned him in the hospital.

During the interview, Ethan managed to look back at Charlie and examine her without anyone noticing.

And what he found prompted a sigh of relief.

She wasn't disinterested.

Charlie's eyes were bright and alive with curiosity. She was listening attentively, her expression changing slightly with each new piece of information. She must be cataloging it, saving it, and allowing it to simmer until it attached to a theory. Even if she wasn't speaking, she was here. She was part of the team, part of the future solution. He could see it in her now– the passion and empathy he'd recognized in her so early in her intern year.

He found himself hoping it would be enough to make her stay.

Enough to make her realize she wanted to stay.

It distracted him from the interview.

Not that he was missing much anyway. Paula, the patient, was particularly uncooperative. It took considerable prodding – and her son’s insistence – to get Paula to say anything at all.

But Ethan’s attention quickly returned when Paula's behavior suddenly shifted.

June and Baz talking to each other, quietly exposing the confusion amongst the team about Paula's bizarre symptoms. Nothing about the conversation was particularly unusual, but to a distrustful woman like Paula, it was enough to prove incompetence on the team's part.

With an eerie light in her eyes, Paula interrupted to say, "It sounds like you have no idea what you're talking about."

She said it with such airy mirth that the comment was unsettling.

Then, to the horror of everyone in the room, the formerly austere Paula's face split into a wild, frenzied laugh. Her posture had changed – so had her facial expressions. Ethan took a step closer and realized that the disturbing glimmer in her eyes was the dark of her pupil as it dilated.

The team looked at each other in horror and shock.

"Paula, are you feeling alright?" Charlie asked. These were the first unprompted words she'd spoken since the introductions.

"I feel great! Why the hell wouldn't I? I'm stuck on a mountain with a load of incompetent doctors!" Paula's voice dissolved into laughter. It was too loud. Too open. Too long.

The diagnostics team looked to each other, and in a silent consensus, they followed Ethan's lead to the hallway. Once the door closed behind them, they abandoned their polite, neutral expressions to show their true concern.

"It looks like a manic episode. If her brain trauma is extensive enough to cause that…." Ethan trailed off, only for Charlie to finish.

"We need to get her to a hospital as soon as possible. Can we call for a helicopter?"

“Doubtful,” Baz frowned, “During the interview, the storm was upgraded to a blizzard. We wouldn’t have time for a helicopter, and the roads are already being shut down.”

“But we just got here!” Charlie fought it, not that she was sure why she did. The entire drive up, the snow had gotten progressively worse. Even from inside Paula’s room, she could tell the weather was turning.

“Then we’re stuck here,” June announced, ignoring Charlie’s outburst, “We’ll have to monitor Paula all night in case her condition worsens.”

Charlie frowned.

This was not how she wanted her first case back to go.

The patient showed unusual symptoms and potential mania, all while they were trapped in a ski resort by a blizzard? This had death and destruction written all over it.

Had Ethan taken the time to consider it, he would have reached the same dim conclusion.

But fortunately for him, he was more distracted by managing the crisis. With little time before the snow made movement impossible to leave the lodge, Ethan decided to find the source of Paula’s rash on the mountain. Charlie objected on safety grounds, but Ethan went out anyway. In his absence, the team conducted a few tests and settled the room arrangements with Rodney. Ethan returned safely, just a bit cold and damp from the snow, and with the cause of the rash. It was poison sumac, he announced. Unrelated to the other symptoms, unfortunately, but at least they could rule other things out.

Only moments later, the blizzard captured the resort captured the resort and trapped the occupants inside.

To his surprise, Charlie wasn’t impressed by his discovery or his quick return. She was annoyed he’d gone out in the first place. And he suspected she was irritated to be here at all.

He wondered if he was pushing her too far, if his plan to show her the best parts of their job had been flawed. If he had been flawed.

If he was doing more harm than good.

Then June pulled out the hotel keys to present them to everyone.

There were four.

The extra room key stung.

It shouldn’t have.

Of course, they couldn’t stay in the same room on a work trip. He shouldn’t have expected anything different.

But something about it made him feel… distant from her.

Like he’d created a wall between them in this whole endeavor, a wall made physical by the separate rooms. Though he’d done it thousands of nights before, Ethan suddenly couldn’t imagine sleeping without her, her body warm beside him and her fragrant curls straying to his side of the bed. He wanted her to forgive him, though he wasn’t sure what for.

In an ideal world, they would have talked about it.

He would have checked on her.

But instead, in a whirlwind of arrangements and discussions, Ethan began his shift, and Charlie followed Baz and June to find their rooms.

Charlie hadn’t planned on staying, so she had nothing to unpack except for a phone charger from her purse and a laptop borrowed from Edenbrook. She didn’t relish the idea of sleeping in her bulky jeans or shivering in the cold night, but there was nothing she could do about that in a blizzard.

It was a relief to warm herself in a hot shower, but after, the room felt too lonely. Unsure what to do with herself, she searched for Baz and June. She found them both at the bar, which fortunately hadn’t been affected by the outside storm.

They sat by the fire with medical journals and drinks – and smores, in Baz’s case. When Charlie entered, they gave her their full attention.

They were genuinely happy to see her return.

They still believed in her, it seemed.

Not that she should be surprised, she reminded herself.

But she was a little.

She’d forgotten how it felt to be the prodigy, not the shattered impersonation of one.

Baz couldn’t contain his excitement and even went as far as to buy her bourbon in celebration, “I’m so happy you’re back! We’ve missed you, Charlie. It hasn’t been the same without you.”

“He tells the truth,” June confirmed, looking a little amused with her colleague’s enthusiasm.

Charlie didn’t know what to say, so she blushed and let Baz fill in the silence – not that he noticed. He had lots to say.

“To our star resident! You’ve been through hell and back, and we’re so proud of how far you’ve come. For you to have survived that and stand here ready to be a doctor again is brave, Charlie,” Baz emphasized in his toast, oblivious to the fact he was only making Charlie more nervous.

Charlie weakly raised her glass, tapping it against June’s and Baz’s.

June’s eyes settled on Charlie’s unsteady smile.

Which only made Charlie more unsteady.

“I can’t believe you’re really back and that Ethan didn’t even give us a warning! For weeks, he said you needed more time, and then, he surprised us. You two were probably in on it together,” Baz laughed good-naturedly, “So, are you back permanently now?”

I have no idea, she thought.

She didn’t know if she’d make it through this case, let alone if she’d take on another.

Her future was too uncertain, her confidence too shaken to answer.

“Um,” Charlie stammered, looking for an answer that didn’t expose her as a nervous wreck, “We’ll see how it works out with my remaining leave, I guess,” she answered noncommittally.

It was the wrong answer.

Too uncommitted. Not enough enthusiasm. Recognizable nerves.

It exposed something that Charlie wanted to hide. It showed how little she controlled this situation, how little she controlled everything. She didn’t know what would happen or what she wanted to happen. It was such a stark contrast from the determined, headstrong intern she’d once been.

If Baz noticed, he took it in stride and said he hoped she would be back full time soon. Then, he started telling her about all she’d missed – leaving out Levi, of course.

June noticed, though.

She sensed Charlie’s unease, and as a result, she stared. And studied.

Charlie became increasingly uncomfortable as the subject of June’s fascination. She felt like she might crack, like June would see through her if she was given enough time.

She began to feel like an imposter trying to fill her old role, and the deception of it all made her sick.

Charlie couldn’t stay for the rest of the evening, not if she was going to survive the night.

So, Charlie finished her bourbon a little too quickly, and to Baz’s disappointment, she excused herself to review online journals on her laptop. June wasn’t surprised she was leaving, though she politely said goodnight anyway.

Maybe June suspected Charlie’s weakness all along.

Maybe she was the smart one. Maybe she saw the truth that Ethan and Baz couldn’t – that Charlie was irreparably broken.

Even with the distance of a few floors separating them, Charlie felt haunted by the exchange – and maybe even still watched by June.

Charlie wanted to prove herself. She wanted to be the old star resident again, though she wondered if she had it in her.

The research proved fascinating, though research had never been a problem for Charlie. She loved learning, and she was always captivated by cases like this. Still, Paula’s case was an enigma, and Charlie went between journals, online textbooks, and her own observations over and over until her eyes burned. When she couldn’t focus anymore, she decided to take a walk and check on Paula. With any luck, she’d gain valuable information through questioning or observation. Even if learned nothing, it would be nice to see Ethan, someone who knew about her trauma and still believed in her enough to bring her here.

Charlie was halfway to Paula’s room when she spotted a familiar face.

“Timothy?” Charlie called out.

Timothy, the patient’s son, stopped mid-stride in shock. He probably didn’t think that anyone else in this hotel knew him.

“I’m one of your mom’s doctors,” Charlie explained quickly, hoping to put him at ease.

It worked. Timothy relaxed a bit, though he remained rigid enough to protect the cup of herbal tea he was carrying. Another mug for his mom, Charlie suspected. She worried that this meant her symptoms were getting worse.

“I’m on your way to your mother’s room. Do you mind if I walk with you?” Charlie asked. During the interview, Timothy had been more forthcoming than his mother, and if Paula became more uncooperative, he would be their only hope. And she worried for the boy. It had to be scary to watch something like this happen to your mother.

Timothy agreed, and they walked together quietly. After a few quiet moments, Charlie commented, “That’s very sweet of you to bring your mother some tea. You’ve been a very good caretaker, Timothy. That’s brave of you, and I want you to know you’re doing a good job, though you should also take care of yourself tonight.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m used to it,” Timothy said sheepishly, looking into the cup of tea with a shy smile.

Charlie’s interest was piqued.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just mom and me at home, so I take care of her.”

“What do you take care of, Timothy?”

Timothy frowned like he’d said something wrong.

“We’re here to help,” Charlie assured him, “So if she has a condition you’ve been helping her with, it’s okay. Just let us know. It may be interacting with or causing her current ailment.”

Timothy looked at Charlie thoughtfully. Almost too thoughtfully.

Charlie was sure there was something he wanted to tell her, or at least something he should tell her.

But all he said was, “It’s nothing really. We’re doing better now.”

Better from what? she thought.

Timothy suddenly looked down and frowned further.

“Is something wrong?”

“I forgot my bag in the lobby when I went to make the tea….”

“I can go get it for you.”

“No,” Timothy insisted too quickly.

Charlie was startled.

“Well, I can bring the tea if you want….” Charlie offered, her voice soft.

“She wouldn’t take it from you,” Timothy shook his head, his eyes softer now. Almost like he was apologetic for his mom’s violent dislike of doctors.

Charlie didn’t want to let Timothy go, especially when he was clearly hiding something, but he insisted she go ahead to the room without him. Not wanting to alienate him, Charlie reluctantly complied.

Once Charlie was in Paula’s room, she almost forgot about her strange encounter with Timothy. The change in Paula was drastic. Her boisterous laughter had faded into dreary silence. She laid in the bed silent and unmoving, her face blank and cold. Even the room felt darker, like all of the energy had been drained as depression gripped the primary occupant.

Ethan was stationed in the corner of the room, and he greeted Charlie with a silent nod.

“How long has this been going on?” Charlie whispered as she approached.

“About an hour,” Ethan frowned.

“I ran into the son in the hallway. I think there’s a preexisting condition they’re hiding from us,” Charlie lowered her voice even further to keep from being heard.

“Hmm,” Ethan raised his eyebrows with intrigue.

“I’m working on it,” she assured him.

Before they could talk any further, Timothy entered with a cup of tea and a bookbag in tow. He dropped the bag by the door, letting it slouch near Ethan and Charlie as he rushed to his mother’s side to deliver the tea. His bag’s zipper was half-undone, revealing some of the contents.

Charlie couldn’t help but look.

A notebook. Headphones. Pencils and pens. What looked like a few pages of math homework. Teabags, presumably from the herbal tea.

All normal stuff for a high schooler.

Still, she tilted her head just a bit more.

Some socks. A bag of –

A bag of pills.

Charlie’s head jerked to attention.

Why would he have a bag of pills? Was he abusing them?

Charlie was about to elbow Ethan and draw his attention to it when Timothy returned for the bag, zipping it back up and slinging it over his shoulder. If he noticed her stare, he didn’t let on.

Everything that was said after that was a blur. Charlie was wracking her brain trying to mentally identify the pill, but she didn’t recognize it. If only she knew what it was, maybe she could help.

When June arrived to take her shift, Charlie took it as her opportunity to return to her room to research medications commonly used or abused by teenagers.

Ethan, oblivious to her new mission, was disappointed by how quickly she ran away. He’d been excited when she came to check on Paula. He thought she was getting back into medicine, but now she was running away from it – and him.

He’d hoped to talk to her once he was off duty.

But Charlie didn’t even realize she’d slighted him.

She spent the next forty-five minutes trying to find a match for the pill.

Nothing jumped out at her. The pill she saw didn’t seem to be commonly abused, nor was it coming up in her research. Could it be a regular vitamin? If so, why would he have it in a bag? Or was it a street drug not listed in these databases?

Without interruption, she might have spent the whole night in this fruitless search.

She was lucky Ethan knocked on the door.

Knock. Knock.

Her train of thought was rudely interrupted, she thought, and she was reluctant to abandon her computer and greet the intruder. Had there not been a patient, she might have been annoyed enough to wait for a second knock.

When she saw Ethan, her mind went back to that room – to Paula.

She forgot that there was any other reason he might be coming to see her.

Like the fact that this was her first time back to work or that he was her boyfriend.

“Are Paula and Timothy alright?” Charlie blurted out, skipping introductions as she assumed the worst.

“Oh…” Ethan was a little knocked back, “Yes. They’re fine.”

“Oh,” Charlie was relieved but now a bit confused.

He stared at her.

Didn’t she understand why he was here? Why wasn’t she inviting him inside?

For a second, she’d gotten so into her job that she’d forgotten everything else – even how much her job terrified her.

“I came to check on you,” Ethan announced finally.

This jolted Charlie’s memory, and she quickly moved back from the door, letting him enter.

Her room was smaller than his, he noted. He found himself hoping she wouldn’t sleep in it tonight. He wanted her by his side. He wanted the assurance that he hadn’t lost her by pushing her too hard.

“How are you doing?” Ethan asked as he crossed the room, silently appraising her living arrangements. By the state of the crumbled comforter, it looked like she’d been researching on her laptop for most of the night.

“Alright, I guess” Charlie murmured, a little unsure of herself.

Their case was an enigma, and their patient was rapidly detreating in a blizzard. A teen had mystery pills in his backpack. June was now studying her. All day, Charlie had been teetering between genuine passion for her job and the feeling of insufficiently filling her old role.

How well could she really be doing?

But she also couldn’t say that she was miserable. She wasn’t as sure of her decision to leave as she had been this morning, nor was she convinced that medicine was all death and destruction.

The best way to describe Charlie was unsteady. Unsure, even.

She just had to survive this case.

Ethan, unsatisfied with her answer, awkwardly paced her small hotel room. She watched.

Finally, he turned to her, and finding the courage to say the words he’d prepared for the last hour, he said, “I’ve been thinking, and I wanted to apologize. I pushed you a lot today. At the time, I thought it was right. In fact, I still think it was right, but… it wasn’t fair.”

Charlie couldn’t believe Ethan was apologizing. Any other day, she might have even gloated. But today, she squirmed, equally unnerved by the situation. Maybe even more so.

Ethan waited for her response, trying so hard to be patient but failing miserably. He couldn’t fathom that he might have misjudged her limits and ruined everything.

It felt like an eternity before she spoke.

“It’s okay… I needed to come back before I decided. Maybe not so abruptly but…” Charlie trailed off, the edge of a smile on her lips. There was a glint in her eyes, and he realized she was poking fun at him.

He was relieved.

“You’ve done really well today,” Ethan ventured, “I’m proud of you.”

Charlie shook her head sheepishly, “I barely spoke.”

“But you were listening.”

“You can’t pretend I’m the same as I was.”

“You don’t have to be the same to be a good doctor, Charlie.”

Charlie bit her lower lip as she averted her gaze.

He took that as an invitation to be bolder, “I think you should come back permanently.”

“What?” Charlie’s eyes shot back to him, the shock in her eyes verging on indignation.

“The team agrees. It’s time, Charlie,” Ethan knew he was stuck now. He couldn’t take it back or soothe the storm that was brewing.

“You spoke to the team?” her gaze grew harder.

“I wanted you to know that you had full faith in you!” Ethan explained.

“June’s already watching me like there’s something wrong with me! Now you’ve just given her more reason to study me,” Charlie shook her head, frustration rising through her veins, “Why would you do that before talking to me?”

“You need to know that we believe in you, Charlotte,” Ethan said quite defensively, “We want you on the team.”

“I haven’t even made it through this case. What makes you think I’m ready to take on another?”

“Because you’re you. You’re not even out of residency yet, and you’re pulling your weight among experts. You’re discovering preexisting conditions none of us ever knew about-“

“Of which we have no proof!” Charlie interrupted.

“You’re still closer to an answer than any of us are,” Ethan said firmly, “And even when you’re scared, like you are now, you still care. You’re a good doctor. Great, even. You’ll be better than me one day. But you’re giving up-“

“Giving up?” Charlie repeated incredulously, “That’s what you think I’m doing?”

“You have a gift!”

“I almost died,” Charlie emphasized, “Every time a patient comes in with a mystery illness and no hope, I know what that feels like. I relive the worst day of my life through their eyes, and I know I can’t save them all. And you think I’m just giving up?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Charlie,” Ethan said, suddenly ashamed, “I’m trying to help you. I love you, and I know you love medicine. I don’t want you to lose that because of a premature decision.”

“So, you think you’re helping me by making me do what I don’t want?”

Ethan frowned, “When it feels like it’s for the best, yes… But it’ll get better.”

Charlie paused.

And then something clicked.

And the fight – and Ethan’s dumb words – were forgotten.

“Wait,” she mumbled, “Making me do what I don’t want…”

“Yes, I know, and I’m sorry. But I really am trying to help,” Ethan tried, oblivious to the shift in Charlie’s mind.

She ignored him, rushing to her computer.

“What are you doing?” Ethan asked incredulously, watching as she frantically typed something into her computer. Again, she ignored him.

Her eyes the screen until they landed on the pill she’d seen in Timothy’s bag.

“I know what’s wrong with Paula.”

Ethan dropped his defensive stance and rushed to her side, hoping he’d understand by looking at her screen. But all he saw was a medication.

“There’s a bag of lithium in Timothy’s backpack. He said he’s been taking care of her for a long time but that she got better recently. I think he’s drugging her with this.”

“Her mood swings…” Ethan’s jaw almost dropped.

“He’s probably been trying to treat her for bipolar disorder on his own. You saw how she was with doctors. I doubt she would have gone in for treatment,” Charlie felt a knot form in her stomach. Even though she was sure of her hypothesis, she hoped it wasn’t true.

“And they gave her ibuprofen to treat her head injury,” Ethan swallowed heavily.

“We have to get her to a hospital.”

“And talk to Timothy.”

As if reading each other’s minds, they abandoned the laptop in Charlie’s room and raced to Paula’s room where they found Timothy waiting by his sleeping mother, looking exhausted but sleepless with worry.

Unfortunately, Charlie’s theory was correct.

Timothy confessed, and Charlie’s heart broke as they explained the repercussions of his actions as well as the severity of what he had done wrong. She felt for him, for what he must have gone through to think such action was necessary. But she couldn’t excuse his decision to medicate her without her consent, especially given the consequences. The lithium and ibuprofen combined to form a disastrous chain reaction, one that lasted even after they discovered the cause.

It took hours for the storm to clear enough for the helicopters to take Paula to the hospital.

While they waited, Charlie and Ethan sat in his room – a romantic suite with a view of the snowy mountains. It felt like a waste now. A romantic night they could have had, if Charlie hadn’t solved such a sad mystery. She was tired, though she wouldn’t admit it. At some point, she drifted to sleep, and Ethan held her, his fingers running through her hair as he kissed her temple and quietly congratulated her on her solve.

“I always knew you’d be the one to solve it,” he whispered.

“Why?” she murmured, “Were you holding back?”

“No, because you’re smarter than me,” he chuckled.

Charlie was smiling when she fell asleep.

When she woke up, the mood had shifted back to panic.

The helicopter on its way, and the team needed to follow. June and Baz took the helicopter with Paula and Timothy, and Ethan and Charlie drove the car back once the roads opened. The team called a few times to share updates and ask for advice.

But for most of the drive, Ethan held Charlie’s hand in silence.

The case was over.

She could back to her life in the apartment where she hid from the world and pushed herself just a little day by day, building her tolerance safely. She could tell Ethan he was wrong. Or she could stay.

And the truth was… she couldn’t imagine going back now.

Not now that she remembered what it was like on the good days – ones where she made the solve and saved the day. Ones where she realized she made a difference, that she solved things other people couldn’t.

It was okay to be scared.

Even as the words were on the tip of her tongue, she was terrified.

“My answer is yes.”

Ethan’s eyes momentarily drifted from the road to her, “What?”

“To your question last night. I want to come back permanently.”

Ethan felt like he could crash the car out of pure shock.

“Are you sure?”

“I mean… not really. I’m scared, but I think it’s time,” Charlie nodded her head, trying to project the confidence she wanted to once more possess.

“We can wait for you if you need more time,” Ethan assured her, struggling to keep his eyes on the highway and not right at her.

“I know,” Charlie confirmed, “But now is the time. I can’t retire, and I can’t wait forever to go back. I’ll never be 100% ready, so I just have to jump in.”

Ethan’s heart was beating so fast that Charlie felt it as she held his hand.

“Are you really, really sure?” Ethan clarified just one more time.

“Yes,” Charlie laughed, a smile lingering on her lips.

He looked at her. Briefly, of course. He was driving, after all.

And then his face broke out in a face-splitting grin.

“I’m so proud of you, Rookie,” he brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles, “You’re amazing! I love you! I love you so much.”

His happiness was infectious. So infectious that she forgot about the fear.

And she laughed.

“You haven’t called me Rookie in a long time,” she squeezed his hand softly, and he cast a sideways glance at her.

“Do you still like being called Rookie?”

“Yes,” she smiled so warmly it practically radiated off of her.

And he loved her. He really did.

“Well then, I love you, Rookie,” he smirked, “And I owe you a romantic ski vacation.”

“Bold of you to assume I know how to ski.”

“And I owe you ski lessons, I suppose,” he murmured affectionately.

“You also owe me a kiss when we stop this car,” Charlie added.

He looked over at her – and quite recklessly because they were doctors and knew what could happen when young lovers were stupid on highways – he kissed her. Quickly, of course. Softly. But lovingly.

And even if she regretted it tomorrow and the world caved again, she was glad she was back today.

#Ethan ramsey #choices #ethan ramsey x mc #dr. ethan ramsey #pixelbery #choices stories you play #open heart #open heart fanfiction #with and without #fics #dr. ethan ramsey x mc

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