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teawithkpop · 5 years

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[M] - PhysCom - Pt 4

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

Pairing: BTS - OT7 x Reader

Rating: Mature [18+]

Length: 8.5k words

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

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

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

-------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sweetheart? Could you come down to the kitchen?

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

-------

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck his calm cadence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What... the fuck…?

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

Are you really that replaceable in their eyes?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We want to extend your time off.”

Wait, what?

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

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

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

Oh. There it is. A sex ban.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-------

That could’ve fucking gone better indeed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-------

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

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

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

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

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

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

She’s your handler, not your therapist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeji meets his gaze unflinchingly. “Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn. Hit him where it hurts, Yeji.

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

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

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

Your heart drops like a stone.

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

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

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

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

Your body feels numb and on fire all at once.

"We're concerned about her professionalism."

That motherfucker.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

Wait, what?

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

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

You bark a laugh. “Trust you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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cycat4077 · 4 years

Text

Changes: Chapter 2

Chapter 2 is out and Chapter 1 got a few edits :)

Title: Changes Ship: Sonny x Reader (OC female character)

Chapter 1: Summer Hire - You’ve been hired by SVU for the summer to manage their backlog of paperwork...but this Carisi guy never ceases to make your eyes roll or your blood boil.

Chapter 2: Tomorrow’s A New Day - Carisi walks you home.

Link: AO3 (will be updated most frequently for minor changes) or below the cut

Chapter List

A wall of humid heat hits you as you step outside the main entrance of the NYPD. The night is pitch-black, save for the yellow glow of streetlamps illuminating patches along the sidewalks. You can still hear cars honking despite the late hour and sirens blaring somewhere off in the distance.

You tell Carisi where you live and the two of you set off in that general direction. Not long later, you pass by a dark alleyway from which a scraggly looking man wonders out into the middle of the sidewalk. He’s talking to no one in particular and he’s gesturing around wildly.

Immediately, Carisi guides you around the confused man by placing his hand gently on the small of your back. Through the thin fabric of your blouse, you can feel the warmth from his fingertips. It sends a shiver up your spine in spite of the stifling summer heat. Though startling at first, his touch doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable or like he’s overstepping boundaries. Instead, it feels instinctual; protective, almost.

You return to reality as he falls back in step beside you. He looks over his shoulder at the man a final time before sending a glance your way. You realize he’s checking to see if you’re alright. You gaze up at him, offering a smile of thanks. Has be always been this tall? you wonder before shaking the thought away.

You walk a little ways further before Sonny breaks the silence. “Been in New York long, then?”

“Um, not really. It'll be a year at the end of the summer. Moved for the college job at the start of the fall semester. Manhattan is a whole lot different than upstate,” you answer, as your eyes trace the skyscrapers upwards until their tops blur into the night. “You?” you question turning back to Sonny.

“All my life,” he grins. “Staten Island born and raised! But I suppose the accent woulda been a dead giveaway.”

You chuckle in agreement. “How’d you decide to be a detective at SVU?” From what you’ve seen in your short time there, it’s an emotionally demanding job that you can only assume isn’t for the faint of heart. Some of the case files you’ve sorted through make you well aware of that.

“Well, I bounced around a lot from department to department around the city. I like the detective work; taking the bad guys off the street, and I like being able to bring some closure to the vics that come through here. But most of my bosses wouldn’t give me a chance. Sergeant Benson was different though. She’s really allowed me to spread my wings,” explains Carisi. You suppose that a lot of people in Carisi’s past had taken him for face value…just as you had.

“Sergeant Benson is one of the most amazing women I’ve ever met. She seems really considerate. I’m glad she gave you a chance.”

“Yeah, me too,” agrees Carisi. “She’s even cool with me taking night classes, which is a total God-send.”

“Night classes?” you question, surprised. That’s not something you expected at all. Is that why he's always acting like a legal dictionary? If so, you can't really blame him. After all, real-world exemplification only acts to enhance cognition.

“Fordham law, baby!” he confirms your suspicions. “I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer, so now I’m working real hard on it.” There’s audible excitement in his voice and a certain spring in his step.

“That’s really impressive!” you reply, smiling. Because it is. You were fortunate enough to never have to work fulltime during your degrees and can’t imagine how exhausting and stressful it would be to work as a full-time detective and take law classes simultaneously. Carisi is incredibly driven and you wholeheartedly respect him for that.

“Thanks,” he responds to your compliment, going a bit shy. “You’re pretty impressive yourself, though. What, with degrees in all the hard stuff.” He looks over to you to watch the grin spread across your face.

“Bio isn’t all that bad if you find a topic you like,” you say. “I’m into anatomy and phys. You get to do the fun stuff, like dissections, and if you teach it, you get to watch your students have just as much fun as you did when you learnt it.” It’s now your turn for the excitement to shine through.

“We had to dissect an eyeball once in high school,” he makes a grossed-out face at the recollection. “Nearly half the class almost barfed. I’m sure that’s secretly amusing for the teachers though, no?”

“Only if you don’t have to clean anything up because of it,” you wink.

“Fair enough,” he laughs. For the first time you see dimples form on his cheeks and the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles. It’s a good look on him.

“Y’know,” he begins, “teachers are so underappreciated. Without ‘em, students don’t learn.”

You cock your head quizzically at his redundant statement.

“You know what I mean,” he sighs, emphasizing with a wave of his hands. “I have a prof right now who makes us learn. He’s really smart but he’s not one of them phonies who just wants you to memorize stuff. He gets us all involved and we act out legal situations. It’s great!”

You smile proudly. Those are the types of teachers you like to hear about. “That’s great!” you exclaim. “I know exactly what you mean and I’m happy to hear stories like that.”

“It must be a lot more work for the prof though? You teach like that?”

“I try to. Structuring a course that way can take more effort and thought, but if your heart’s in it and you truly care about your students, then it’s well worth it.”

Carisi’s face lights up as if he was hoping you’d answer that way. “Well, teachers like you and my law prof truly make a world of difference.”

You feel your face get warm as a rush of heat washes up from your stomach. You immediately look down at the ground hoping he doesn’t notice. It feels great to be respected for something you value so much.

But before you know it, you’re standing in front of your building entrance. How did the walk feel so short this time?

“Well, this is me. Thanks for walking me home,” you say, shoving your hands in your pockets and rocking on your heels. Maybe Sonny wasn’t such bad company after all.

“Anytime,” he replies.

As he stands there in front of you, you silently wish that you lived further away. Somehow, talking with Sonny had come natural tonight and you feel the urge to keep chatting. But, you’re overtired and it’s probably making you semimetal. Still, that first step towards your door is a reluctant one.

“Hey, wait,” he calls. “Sorry for being such a jerk around the office for the past month.” He glances down at his shoes, blue eyes then turning back up to meet yours apologetically.

“I’m sorry too. I haven’t exactly been friendly towards you either,” you offer.

“You think we can have a fresh start? Whaddya say, tomorrow’s a new day?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you agree with a nod of your head.

He flashes you a warm smile; those creases at the corners of his eyes returning as he does.

“’Night, Sonny,” you say before retreating into your apartment.

Chapter 3 here

#I'm just thirsty for Carisi #Convince me that he's not the perfect human being or the perfect man #That's right you can't #Changes #law and order svu #sonny carisi #sonny x reader #Sonnyshine of my life #my fanfic #If you have any feedback please send it my way #because my brain farts and I write it down and I don't know if any of this is good #sonny carisi x reader

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lxveille · 5 years

Note

28. be mine + soonyoung + perhaps teenage friends who grew apart, cross paths again

title: say you’ll be minewc: ~ 1700a/n: i’ll admit, i toyed around with a couple different ideas for this prompt before settling on this… and in the end, i indulged myself by making this Vaguely Apocalyptic Scifi-ish

The crowd at the departure field is loud. An incoherent mess of people shouting farewells and well wishes and, in some pockets, condemnations of those abandoning Earth, or protests that this whole approach is unfair. From where you stand in the throng, it’s impossible to make out any details of the passengers boarding exodus vessel Phi-7. It defeats the purpose of coming in the first place if you can’t even see if your friend scheduled for departure has even made it on board safely.

You turn your back to the spacecraft and begin making your own through the sea of onlookers towards the gates. The spot you leave is immediately filled by someone else desperate to push in a little closer for the chance of a better view. With your head ducked down, you murmur excuse mes and sorrys into the cacophony to every other person you try to push your way through.

When you’ve finally made it out of the tightly-packed crowd, you let out a sigh and turn to look back at the mess of people. You understand those that are upset, of course. What’s unclear to you is exactly what good they think will come of shouting objections here at this point.

Your boots crunch over the mix of pebbles and dead grass as you make your way back towards the path leading to the exit. One of the guards stationed along the departure field’s fence gives you a skeptical look, as if no one has ever left before the vessel’s lift off before.

You drop your gaze to the cracked stonework beneath your feet to avoid anyone else’s gazes. And remind yourself that you aren’t doing anything wrong.

There’s no relief of weight upon your shoulder once you pass through the gateway. All you are now is a doomed soul who isn’t bothering to look on as luckier ones get their chance at something more than a quickly dying planet.

A sound something like your name nearly makes you pause. Except there’s no reason - and no one - who would have a reason to be calling for you here. You push your hands into your coat pockets and try to bury your nose into your scarf as you carry on down the pavement away from the departure site.

Behind you, there’s a sudden pick up of footfalls, and a second shout. This one unmistakably your name. With eyebrows furrowed and senseless nervousness prickling at the back of your neck, you stop where you are and turn around.

The sight of a uniformed guard jogging towards you down the sidewalk makes you nearly panic, makes you glance around yourself as you contemplate if you should be fleeing. What story starts with an armed guard chasing you down the street can possibly end well?

But he slows down in his approach when you glance back, holds up a hand in wave that looks entirely too friendly for someone in his uniform. It makes you take a second look over the guard, and realization comes upon you in a wave that only makes you more puzzled.

“Soonyoung?” you sputter out the name. He grins, and you wonder if somehow you might be dreaming this all. And if so, why the hell would you be dreaming of a schoolmate you haven’t seen in years?

“It’s been a while, huh? You’re probably the last person I thought I’d see here.” Soonyoung still has this cheeriness about him that makes it feel like he belongs to a different place or time than the reality you live in. At sixteen it had been the most charming thing you’d ever seen in a person. Today, all it makes you think is endless questions of how exactly he passed any training for the Guard.

“I could say the same, I guess,” you answer, “Especially…” You take one hand out of your pocket and gesture vaguely at him. “…Like that.”

He laughs. His laughter is still the same as it ever was, and it makes your yearn suddenly and all too deeply for a time when things had felt simpler, or at least like there was still some hope left for this place. “I know. It’s weird where life takes us, I guess.”

“It looks like you should be working right now rather than… chasing down an old classmate.”

He blinks, unsure how to take your words, but then in an instant his smile is back. “I know. You’re right! I should. But how often do people actually see someone they knew before the Exiting started by chance like this?”

You shake your head and shrug. “I don’t know. I guess the odds are a little higher at a departure field, though.”

“I guess you have a point there. But you’re not even sticking around to watch it go?”

“It’ll go like the rest of them have, won’t it?” Something in your words makes Soonyoung chuckle again.

“They usually do,” he agrees. “Still, I don’t know. People seem to like seeing it. Either for someone they know on board or… to get a sense of what it’ll be like when they leave.”

Or to let off some of their anger over the fact there won’t be enough vessels for everyone to leave, you add on inside your own head. His uniform keeps you from saying it aloud. “I should let you get back to your job,” you say instead.

“Hey – would it be totally out of line if I asked you to meet up with me after my shift ends?” he asks quickly. Like it’s been the question on his mind from the moment he first called out your name.

After all these years, you still trust Soonyoung’s smile. So you agree to be at the cafe a few blocks away at 6.

It surprises you when he shows up already changed into plainclothes. Perhaps more than seeing him in the guard’s uniform had surprised you in the first place. All the same, it sets you more at ease to see him this way. His style has changed from high school, but he looks more like himself in a sweater and jeans.

He sits across from you and orders juice rather than any kind of coffee.

“Sorry if I startled you earlier,” he opens with, “I just couldn’t believe it was actually you.”

“It’s fine,” you tell him, and pull your mug a little closer to yourself on the tabletop.

From there, the two of you slip into conversation that attempts to make up for years of estrangement. You find out he enlisted into the Guard after his university was forced to close due to low enrollment. That he considers one of the few perks of working in the Guard is that he has more friends still left of Earth than the average person does. With that, you stumble into telling him how the last of your close friends had been on Phi-7 today.

His face falls in sympathy. “Is that why you didn’t want to actually watch it leave?”

“Something like that, I guess.”

“Well,” Soonyoung starts only to cut himself off, brows furrowing and lips quirked downwards as he tries to come up with the best way to ask what he wants to next. “Do you have plans to try to get on any of the remaining vessels?”

You laugh dryly. You’d heard something along those lines as an odd-humored pickup line a few weeks ago. You don’t think Soonyoung means it in that way, though. “I’m not in a couple. So, they’re not gonna sell me passage no matter how much money I have saved up. And at this point I doubt any are even available if I was in one.”

“Oh,” he looks down at the table between the two of you and seems lost in his own thoughts for a minute. “They have priority tickets for the Guard, but they made those only available to people engaged or married about a month ago, too.”

“And how many engagements have suddenly popped up since then?” you asked with mild, sardonic amusement.

“Not that many.” His tone tells you he knows this will come as a surprise. He clarifies, “They ask for some backlog of proof that you know each other as a basis for the relationship and all that.”

“So, priority tickets out of here just going to waste because too many guardsmen are hopelessly single, huh?”

Soonyoung winces at his inclusion in that grouping before giving in to a small chuckle. “Some of them are hoping they’ll backtrack on that rule if they decide they need more Guards out on the new settlement.”

“Not you, though?” you ask, fingers tensing around your coffee cup somewhat.

Color rises in his cheeks, and his smile takes on a certain sheepishness as he glances away from you. “I guess I should be honest, huh?”

You look him over quizzically. “I wasn’t aware you hadn’t been up to now.”

“No – I didn’t lie or anything” he hurries to clarify. “It’s just… When I saw you leaving the field earlier… It was like I suddenly remembered all the pictures and stuff of us that I still have sitting around from school. And how people used to think we were dating back then, sometimes.” He trails off, seeming rather like he’s having second thoughts about whatever he’s leading up to.

On your side of the table, his sudden mention of mementos of your past has you thinking of the folded up confession note you never gave him back in your school days. The memory of all the times you backed out of handing it over or leaving it somewhere Soonyoung would find it makes you go quieter, slouching down in your seat some.

Soonyoung leans in some, speaking lower. “I guess what I mean is, it occurred to me that those kinda things would probably count as backlog proof. If you wanted to leave…”

Your gaze flits back to meet his. “Except we’re not a couple.”

He grins briefly before his expression is taken over instead with a tinge of nervousness. “I know. But… People could believe it, couldn’t they? It’s not like there’s close friends or family for them to go double checking with left on Earth, right?”

It feels reckless and risky to even consider it. But Soonyoung has a point. Moreover, Earth’s time is running out, along with the number of vessels left scheduled to take anyone to the new settlements.

“I think we’re gonna have to take some more recent pictures if it’s gonna be believable,” you conclude.

Soonyoung smiles. “I’ve got the whole night off.”

#seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #hoshi fanfic #kwon soonyoung x reader #valentine hearts flash fics #i also acknowledge this whole idea would Work Better in longer more fleshed out fic but #sometimes flash fics are Like That

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firemedicdiaz · 6 years

Text

Getting Past Precedent

Fandom: Star Trek AOS/TOS. Pairing: Leonard McCoy X Reader. Prompt: Anon requested - Would you please consider writing about Bones helping the reader whose eating disorder severely flared up after she has been stable for years? He can’t be and doesn’t want to be her counsellor, but as her fiancé, he loves her and supports her emotionally. Regarding her physical health, he goes all CMO. He is protective and may seem uncompromising to keep her safe and to cope his own fears. Word Count: 2804. Warnings: description of an eating disorder (anorexia), depression, anxiety, minor medical procedures. Rating: Teen+. Summary: There’s not much that escapes Leonard’s notice, least of all when it’s slowly chipping away at the love of his life. Author’s Note: Another request that has taken me forever to get to, eek! Thank you to the anon who requested this for being so patient - you’re a rock star! Throughout my own life I’ve suffered from two distinct eating disorders at various stages, so some of what’s in this fic comes from my own experience, but it is not by any means a universal guide to EDs. As such, I haven’t included any particular details behind why reader’s ED has flared up. Finally, if you’re struggling, please seek professional help - you can absolutely beat this. If you need someone to talk to, my inbox is always open. I believe in you.

Getting Past Precedent

You don’t even realize that Leonard’s been watching you across the table until he reaches out for your free hand, stroking the back of it gently with his fingertips while you push the unfinished half of your salad around on your plate with a fork.

“Everything alright, sweetheart?” Leonard asks over the din of the mess hall.

“Hmm?” You intone lightly, glancing up at him. “Oh, yeah, fine, just not feeling the salad today.”

“I can bring you something else,” Leonard offers. “Some soup, a bowl of ice cream? You need to eat, darlin’.”

You smile softly at him and shake your head.

“Really, I’m fine,” you assure him. “I had a big lunch earlier and I’m too distracted to eat. I’ve got a big project I need to present to the admiralty next week.”

Leonard doesn’t looked pleased with your response, but he leaves it alone for the time being. Still, you can feel him watching you like a hawk for the rest of your dinner break, and you’re glad to be able to make an exit to get back to your duties when the chron strikes eighteen hundred hours.

The rest of your shift passes by uneventfully, and after you’ve handed your work over to the next shift you make your way to your quarters feeling utterly exhausted. Shutting the door behind yourself as you step into your private space lets you take your first deep, relaxed breath of the day and you groan tiredly as you step into the kitchenette for a glass of water.

The smell of something rich and savory hits your nose and you glance around, rolling your eyes as you find a tray with some soup, saltine crackers, and fresh fruit slices on it on your countertop with a small, folded piece of paper. Picking it up, you skim through what’s written on the card with a sigh.

Eat this and then get some rest. Doctor’s orders. - Len

Setting the card back down on the tray, you turn back to the replicator and retrieve the glass of water you’d set it to pour, sipping from it slowly as you make your way to your bedroom to freshen up for the night.

The rest of the evening passes by without incident and the morning brings more of the same. Skipping breakfast, you fetch another glass of water and make your way to the couch to start making a dent in some of the reading you have backlogged. You’re not on active duty today, thankfully, but you still have things to do. At least you don’t have to change out of your pajamas for anything.

A few hours pass by and you don’t even realize that it’s well after noon. Your hunger pangs mean nothing to you these days - they’re almost constantly present, so their manifestation isn’t coincident with the fact that you’ve missed lunch any more than it is with any other event.

A knock on your door gets your attention and you curse inwardly as you look at the chron, realizing you’ve missed a lunch date you’d promised to have with Leonard. Standing swiftly, you throw a hand out to steady yourself against the arm of the couch as dizziness knocks you off kilter for a moment. You’re just about to attempt to make it to the door to open it when you hear your passcode being punched in and you know instinctively that it’s Leonard on the other side.

“Hey,” you say with a smile, straightening up in an attempt to look like nothing’s amiss. “I’m so sorry - I totally lost track of time.”

Leonard’s not fooled by your try at nonchalance. His expression is concerned as he crosses the room to stand beside you and puts a hand under your elbow to help steady you. He guides you back into a seated position and sits beside you, turning his body so he can face you better.

“What’s going on, Y/N?” He asks.

You furrow your eyebrows, feigning concern.

“What do you mean?” You ask by way of answer.

“I’m worried about you,” he elaborates. “For weeks now you’ve barely been eating. You’re drawn, tired all the time, losing your balance. I can tell you’re losing weight, and that you’ve been trying to avoid me.”

You sigh deeply and close your eyes, turning your head so you can avert your gaze when you open them again.

“Why haven’t you come down to med bay if you haven’t been feeling well?” Leonard asks. “I’m sure Geoff would be happy to take a look at you and get this sorted out.”

You shake your head.

“I’m fine,” you emphasize.

Leonard runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head. Even out of the periphery of your gaze you can tell that he’s not fooled.

“I’m sorry, sugar,” he says quietly. “But I can’t sit by and watch you sabotage yourself anymore. I know you haven’t been eating, and with all the other signs, with your untouched soup from last night on the counter… I can’t pretend like I don’t know what’s going on anymore. I was hoping you’d come to me, but now that you’re putting yourself at physical risk and it’s becoming unsafe for you to do your job, I have to step in.”

You whip your head around to look at him as he mentions your duties and tears prickle at your eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the anorexia, sugar?” He asks, his voice defeated, his expression sad.

The tears building in your eyes finally spill over as the word rolls off of his lips. That dreadful word that you’ve heard so many times before from your parents, your doctors, your therapists. Biting your lip to keep from sobbing, you reach up and shakily wipe at the tears cascading down your cheeks and clinging to your dry, cracked lips.

“I thought you’d have seen it in my file,” you say, your voice hollow.

Leonard shakes his head, reaching out slowly to rest a hand on your knee.

“I respect your privacy,” he explains. “I’ve never had any reason to go into your files, so I never have.”

You grit your teeth together to hold back more sobs as you realize that his trust in you has been wildly misplaced throughout all the time you’ve been dating because you’d relied on him finding out about your condition without you having to have that hard conversation. Burying your face in your hands, you feel yourself trembling under the weight of your emotions.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper.

“No, sweetheart,” Leonard says, moving a little closer. “Don’t ever apologize for being sick.”

You’re expecting some sort of admonishment for not opening up sooner, but instead you’re met with a protective, comforting embrace. Leonard pulls you gently into his lap and winds his arms more tightly around you, stroking your back in soothing circles.

The two of you stay there for the next hour, with Leonard holding you through bouts of crying and despondency. You’re afraid to look up at him, to see any sort of disappointment or disproval in his eyes, but you know you can’t stay like this forever. After a few minutes of slow, measured breathing and steeling yourself, you finally find the strength to pull away from him and look up.

“Are you going to pull me from duty?” You ask quietly, stuttering a little for fear of the answer.

“Not yet,” Leonard says softly, reaching out to nudge your chin up to encourage you to keep looking at him as you make to avert your gaze. “I’m not saying it’s not a possibility down the road if you continue on this trajectory, but no one’s making any rash decisions right now.”

Silence passes between the two of you for a few beats as you consider his words.

“What will it take to keep me on the ship?” You query further. “I don’t know if I’m ready to talk to anyone about this…”

“I’m not going to force you to talk to anyone right now,” Leonard reassures you. “I will encourage you to see one of the ship’s counsellors very soon, but the first step is to make sure your physical health is taken care of.”

You nod, averting your gaze as you consider the implications of his words. Your heart sinks at the thought of having to rehash the story with Dr. M’Benga and you sigh.

“Can you do it?” You ask quietly. “I just don’t want anyone else to know.”

Leonard reaches out to take your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I think I can swing it,” he agrees. “With my experience in psychiatry I’m probably the best qualified on board to handle your case and I’m sure Starfleet could be persuaded if they have any issue with it.”

“Alright,” you say after a moment of letting his words resonate. “I’m guessing you want to do this now?”

“If this has been going on for as long as I think it has, the sooner the better,” Leonard offers.

You nod and sigh, gesturing toward the door.

“After you,” you say flatly.

You watch Leonard as he gets to his feet and reach up to take his hand as he offers it to help you up. As soon as you’re on your feet, the edges of your vision start to grey out a little bit and you sway, nearly toppling back onto the couch before Leonard catches you and pulls you in close to help support you.

“Easy, darlin’,” he says softly. “I’ve got you.”

You lean into him, letting him take some of your weight until you feel a little steadier. He’s still got a hold of the hand he helped you up by and as you regain your balance, his other hand comes up as well, his fingertips finding the pulse point in your wrist easily. You still and allow him to measure your heart rate, leaning your head against his shoulder as he does.

“Your pulse is racing, sugar,” he says with a frown. “Come on, let’s get you looked after.”

He lets go of your hand and wraps an arm around your waist to support you as he leads you slowly out of your quarters. It takes less than three minutes for the two of you to reach medical and when you do Leonard leads you straight over to a private room. He gives you a hand up onto the bio bed and rests a palm gently on your shoulder.

“Lie back,” he instructs you.

You do as you’re told and close your eyes as the bio bed whirrs to life beneath you. Leonard works over you in silence for the next several minutes and you resign yourself to behaving. Eventually, when several more minutes pass by without incident, you open your eyes and glance over at him, finding him poring over what you assume to be your results on his PADD.

“What’s up, doc?” You ask as you sit up and swing your legs over the edge of the bed, worried for the answer.

“Your results aren’t ideal,” he explains. “But they’re not as bad as I expected. Before I let you go I’m going to give you a shot of something that’ll bring your electrolytes back into balance and supplement some of the trace nutrients you’re deficient in. After that it’ll be up to you to start reintroducing food so you can get everything back to a healthy level.”

The mere thought of having to eat twists at your stomach and makes you feel sick, but you nod anyway knowing you have no choice if you want to stay on the Enterprise and carry on your research. Your thoughts are racing so much that you don’t even realize you’ve withdrawn into all sorts of worst case scenarios and dreadful outcomes until you suddenly feel a hand on your shoulder, jarring you back into the present.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He presses softly.

You take a slow, shuddering breath and nod as your lip trembles – a prelude to more tears.

“I’m scared,” you say between sobs. “I’m not good at talking to people and I hate talking about myself most of all and I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know if I can eat anything now even if I try.”

Leonard steps as close to the bed as he can and leans closer to you, wrapping his arms around you. He pulls you into a tight hug and presses a kiss to your forehead as he murmurs soft reassurances and promises.

“You can do it,” Leonard assures you. “I promise. I know you, darlin’ – you’re more than strong enough to beat this. You beat it once, you can beat it again, and you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here for you. I’ll be with you every step of the way if you want me to be. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

You nod numbly, reassured but now also afraid of letting him down even more.

“What if I’m not strong enough?” You whisper.

“Then we pick you up, dust you off, and try again,” Leonard says softly. “It’s okay to get it wrong, to need more than one try, to fail and have to start over. All I ask is that you communicate with me. If you tell me that you’re spiraling, I can help you get back on track.”

“Okay,” you say weakly, reaching up with a shaky hand to wipe away your tears only to be foiled by Leonard’s hand coming up to do it for you.

“Besides,” he says as he carefully rubs away the thin rivulets of water on your cheeks. “Even failure is progress in a forward trajectory; it means you got out there and tried, and that’s all I can ask of you.”

His words are reassuring even though they don’t do much to quell the terror in your heart and you grip him just a little tighter, a little closer, as though to draw strength from him with which to steel your resolve. He keeps his arms wrapped around you for as long as you need them there and pulls away slowly even when you’re finally ready to let go and sit back.

You fold your hands in your lap as Leonard steps away a few moments later, watching him bustle around and prepare the hypo he’d mentioned. You obediently expose your neck when he returns to your side and close your eyes tightly as he injects you, relaxing when his thumb rubs gentle circles over the injection site to help soothe the prickling there.

“Let’s head up to my quarters,” Leonard suggests, dropping his hand away from your neck and stepping aside to dispose of the hypo cartridge. “I want you to have lunch with me. We’ll start small – I’ll make you a cup of herbal tea – and work our way up from there.”

“I hope you’re not expecting a miracle,” you murmur.

Leonard shakes his head, returning to your side and offering you a hand down from the bio bed.

“An attempt at a bowl of soup, that’s all I ask,” he assures you. “And if it’s too much, too soon, we’ll think of something else.”

“Okay,” you agree quietly. “Thank you, Len. Not just for this… For everything. For not being angry with me, for not being disappointed in me.”

“Oh sweetheart,” he says gently, his voice thick with heartache for you. “I can tell this hasn’t gone well for you in the past, and I’m the one who’s sorry. I wish I could have reassured you sooner.”

You smile weakly, your spirit buoyed by hope again, and you finally hop off of the bed. You lean in to embrace Leonard again briefly and reach out to entwine the fingers of one of your hands with one of his.

“I’m sure I’m going to need reassurance often over the next few months,” you say. “So hold that thought – there’ll be more than enough time for all of that.”

Leonard squeezes your hand and nods, turning to make his way out of the room with you at his side. As the two of you make your way out of sick bay and toward his quarters, you do your best to focus on the small flickering flame of hope you feel inside rather than the crippling amount of doubt and dread. A weight has been lifted off of your shoulders with Leonard finding out about your condition, and while you’re still reeling from the revelation, you also feel somewhat better prepared to face whatever comes your way.

You know that with Leonard by your side, you can handle anything the universe throws at you.

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