#Lol love to see something you care about turned into a hollow empty product that exists only to burn down rainforests

[secretmellowblog]

Me (an lotr fan): wow I don’t think I could be more heartbroken over the way giant corporations have taken the story I loved and reduced it to a hollow financial asset that does enormous real-world harm. I hate how the story is irrelevant and meaningless to executives who only see it as a hollow spectacle they can manipulate for profit. But thankfully I can’t be surprised anymore there is no way they can possibly make it worse

Warner Bros:

Me:

[blakecooley]

2022

I had a good year but I feel old this week. It feels as if I’ve aged very suddenly or just now realized that the past 20 years have happened. I’m sure sometime in the future I’ll be able to look back and recognize how but, for now it just feels like this year was different. I feel like I woke up this year. Some things became clearer and others twisted into half remembered dreams. They all came and went with the year, yet devastating clarity still eludes me. 

I moved this year. I left beautiful friends and family in Illinois. Saying goodbye to people who helped me love myself felt like abandonment. Long distance relationships are hard. But, I moved. Hopefully for school though, even if that doesn't work out the way I’d like, I still feel like I’m supposed to end up here. If I can stay here I can stay here. (I found out in the Summer that the house we live in was built in the 1890s. Later, in the Autumn, my neighbors told me that that’s when the houses here were incorporated and were likely built even earlier than that. That’s not pertinent to anything, I just think it’s neat.) I like living at the foot of the mountains. Every morning when I stumble outside for a cup of coffee and a cigarette I can just barely make out the shape of their tops. Searching down from the heavens for the horizon it’s where the black gets dark, where the giant maw of ancient stone devours the stars. Then, with the rising sun, the ash of nighttime shakes into the valley, settling among the banks of creeks and the floors of the forest. Pinks, greens, blues and whites radiate in its place. Every day, the mountains sleep and the forest wakes up. A stunning compass lies to the west. I think I can picture dying here some years down the line. This hilly area at the feet of the militarily hollowed out Cheyenne Mountain, my neighborhood, helps me forget that the rest of the city exists. I like it here and I’m comfortable. 

I started a new job this year and left the best paying, most consistent job I’ve ever had. Seeing that neither of them are in the restaurant industry though I think I can officially say that I’m out of that field for good and I’ll call it even. I recognized that people in my generation talk about jobs with this thorny, intertwined care and fear gripping their throats. Where are you working now? (Are your bills paid?) Do they pay pretty good? (Do you have enough to eat?) Do you like it alright? (Do they say your name right? Are you sleeping okay? Can you situate yourself under the pressure? Can you breathe?) People are sweet. A job is simply survival. Rote emptiness. An exaggerated, almost satirical performance of tasks that don’t need to be done to produce things that no one asked for. More and more of us recognize now that most of our jobs only exist to feed the cycle of over-production and that adhering to the practice of it only sustains the dominance of capitalism. A job is simply survival. People are sweet.

I got Covid again this year. I refinished my guitar, replacing its plastic white and sunny yellow with an ash black and wine-dark red. It feels more appropriate now. Within the first month of moving here I broke up and turned over the backyard in preparation for planting wildflowers in the Spring. I started taking my religious and spiritual thoughts more seriously. I guess I have something similar to what people describe as “faith in a higher power” now. Born again. Lol. I started meditating more. I got through the worst flu I’ve ever had in my life. I caught, raised and am permanently enamored with Cerce, my pet black widow. I made friends with the neighborhood cats. I made friends with Stephanie’s dog, Rourke, who in past visits refused to let me walk across the house. I left beautiful friends and a beautiful family in Illinois. I left my perfect and very cool niece and nephew. I left some of the most loving, and actively supportive people I’ve ever known. I moved in with one of my favorite people in the world. No matter where I’ve lived this year I’ve felt deeply loved. (I hate the feeling that all of this puts inside my chest. Feeling loved is hard for me.) I drove across Iowa, Nebraska, Kansas and Colorado by myself in a moving truck. I cried through a lot of that. I felt loved then. I slept in Lincoln, NE for the third time in my life. I handled some pretty serious depression more constructively and healthily than I ever have in my life. Pretty proud of that one. Stayed alcohol free for another calendar year. Very proud of that one. I wrote, but did not record, about 90% of an atmospheric black metal album that challenged me a lot as a guitar player and musician. I have met and made more friends this year than probably any other year of my adult life. I started to write more. Learned how to better recognize and set reasonable expectations for managing my social anxiety. (Someday I’ll be able to leave the house and go to new places that are full of new people without needing a panic planning session but I’m not there yet and that’s okay.) I had a handful of moments of clear, singular thought this year and I had a few of what I call cosmic moments this year. The freedom of insignificance is intoxicating. (That’s pretentious as fuck. (Recognizing it in an aside, doubly so.)∞ )

I grew a lot this year. Physically, emotionally, and socially. 2022 was my first full calendar year of being on hormone replacement therapy. For someone my age with the naturally high testosterone levels that I seem to have been gifted, progress is slow. Change happens at its own pace and is best left to proceed undisturbed. HRT has taught me about patience. I fucking hate patience and I don’t want to learn, I just want my own body.

Given the circumstances, this was a good year for me. However, I can recognize and understand only some of the privileges that are wrapped up in that fact. I survived when others didn’t. I was invited openly and freely to avenues, streams and halls where spectres of the decades gone “Whites Only” signs still hang. My hands were clasped warmly and with welcome to nationwide secret clubs of 'good old boys' because my cowardice or self-preservation wouldn’t let me squeak out a correction. Being white, 6’2” with a permanent five o’clock shadow and a passing knowledge of internal combustion engines goes a long way towards survival. But it comes with the cost of shame and the fear of the price of being found out as a liar. People died here this year. Right across town, for being just like me. They died because, for at least one night, they chose to be honest. They chose the joy and the weightlessness of letting themselves be exactly who they were and they were killed for it. Against this I must temper the gauge of my year. Under the intentionally foggy and marred lens of capitalism I'd be led to believe that the unrelenting threat of fascism, violence, death, inhuman expectations of work, starvation, inadequate shelter, imprisonment, and sexual violence are isolated from one another and that each only affects us in singular and individual ways. But in working toward understanding liberation I become a detective, revealing the threads that bind us together and following the beacons left by those who came before me. I live in a world shaded by a tightly woven and self-replicating network of violence. I can’t recognize that my year was successful without also recognizing that it was only made so because the price for it was paid by others. But looking for all of this and to see it doesn't demand listless, defeated despair but it demands instead my efforts toward dismantling it and my joy and mirth in doing so. I can’t unlearn what I’ve been shown and to see and understand the violence of capitalism and to then do nothing is active participation in that violence. I will act. I will put what energy, resources and knowledge that I have toward building, creating and encouraging the beautiful world that I want to live in.

The change of the year is arbitrary and speaking of the coming year as a thing, a noun, some manifested eldritch terror gives authority to what’s basically a mathematical construct. So, I’ll make no goals and speak no wishes for it. I’ll be joyful. I’ll be kind. I’ll be strong. I’ll set broad goals and work toward them deliberately to give them shape. I’ll get through this upcoming year just as all the ones before; one day at a time.  

I had a good year. Yet devastating clarity still eludes me. 

[fe-semi-decent-scenarios]

How do the BL students cope with missing their s/o? (like they're on a mission or something and won't be back for a long time) Bonus points for including how they react to seeing them again lol. Congrats on the big 100 btw

[Thank you! This is a little late but I was amazed to see so many people reading these posts.I’m pretty proud of this one.I wrote this as a ‘first time they’re apart’ kind of scenario. Hope it is to your liking! :3]

Dimitri: 

Karma really does bite, and boy does it do so hard

More often than not it is Dimitri leaving you behind for missions. Being the leader of the Lions meant that he was stationed at almost every important battle. Sometimes you’d join, and others the professor would decide to have someone else take up arms. No biggie, you know? He never complained since it guaranteed your safety.  

He didn’t even think of the possibility of a role reversal. One where you’d be sent out while he’s left behind. Up until now he was always by your side, but Manuela knew his limits better than anyone. She insisted he take the month off to rest. 

Once again, no biggie. He’d much rather be productive but with some convincing he easily gave in. Everyone departed for the monthly mission and he decided to invest some of the extra time on his hands into an evening with you 

He was about to search for you, but then memory did it’s job.

“Ah, that’s right. They departed with their battalion this morning...”

Dimitri wasn’t used to the silence of an empty Monestary. Was it always this hollow when the army was deployed? There were some people, yes. However most areas appeared almost lifeless. 

It brought up some unpleasant memories to say the least. Ones of a dusk castle, strangers on every corner, empty dinner tables, and cold nights spent staring up from his balcony. 

The time he spends without Dedue glued to his side is full of reflection. Once he’s trained, eaten, studied up, etc. He’ll stroll around the monastery and think of what his life has become 

How fragile the peace is. How much longer will it last?  

He wanted to talk with someone. The silence was deafening and he wished for a distraction before the voices made their appearance. 

They did.

He wished for you to come home. Despite the voices screaming that he had no right to long for your comfort, the desire still remained.  

 Was it the same for you when he’d depart? This...lonely? 

He hoped not. 

Since when had Dimitri become assimilated to the daily nonsense that was his life? 

Dedue had caught on to his highness’ feelings instantly. Dimitri was more reminiscent than usual, and often his walks would take him to your room. He wouldn’t enter, just look at the door as if expecting it to open. He wasn’t one to talk of the past as it made him uncomfortable, but sometimes Dedue would catch him smiling at nothing. It was a welcome change to have happy memories. 

When you come home it’s as if Dimitri has a new aura. Well, maybe not entirely but he has a more solemn look in his eyes when they meet yours. He spends the first day being caught up on politics with the Professor and Seteth, but for many nights beyond the return he seeks your company 

He wants to hear your voice. The one he craved for when the silence became intolerable 

“I’ve returned my beloved, would you care to tell that story from the other night again? I know it has only been one day but I would love to hear it.” 

Dedue: 

Time alone with you was already a rarity, so your complete absence didn’t dieter him as much as one would think. Dedue’s schedule rarely has a slot for free-time, and so the days pass on like seconds 

As long as there is no specific reason to worry then he refrains from doing so. Dedue genuinely believes in your strength and capabilities so he won’t needlessly fret over nothing. He has his own duties to attend to just as you do. 

However, this doesn’t mean he feels nothing on the matter. Others can gossip about him all they want but his nationality doesn’t define his personality. Not that he cares, since his stone exterior hides signs of weakness 

Let’s get this straight: he does miss you. While not in surplus, your time together is precious to him. He notices how your seat is empty during lessons and meetings. He unconsciously checks the training hall’s door during his regime, impatiently waiting for you to pop in and say your daily ‘hello’. He’s painfully aware of the extra pair of gardening gloves in his tool pail. Dedue knows that you are gone and it has an impact. 

He just ignores it. Dedue knows that when duty calls it must come before personal issues. Even if there is no contact between you two, he would rather no letters than one relaying distress 

If his highness asks about his feelings Dedue’s replies are short and curt. He does not wish for any worry or pity. 

One small sign that Dedue is off-put is that he becomes forgetful. It’s something only those who know him well can pick up on. For example: he won’t bring any writing utensils to a meeting. To a stranger this is a common mishap that happens to everyone. Only people who know Dedue well will see that someone as responsible as him wouldn’t forget something so minute 

Another is the short sighs he lets out. Nothing drawn out or dramatic, just quick puffs of air through the nose- kind of like a huff. They’re very difficult to catch and are a habit when he feels impatient or restless 

The day you come home isn’t a large extravaganza. Prince Dimitri accompanies him to greet the returning troops, but it doesn’t take a wise man to see that he mainly came for moral support. You were his friend as well, and he also wanted to see Dedue happy. 

When you come into sight Dedue approaches as if it’s a normal day. Your appearance is a bit too worn-down for his liking, and he says so. He asks if the journey went well, and whether it did or not he gives a minuscule smile 

If you return it he’ll pat your head. A welcome home, if you will 

“Come. Let us speak of the time we were apart. I would like to hear of your travels” 

Felix:

Simple solution. Whenever Felix feels as if he’s missing your presence he’ll go find you. 

Oh wait 

He can’t lmao 

It doesn’t hit him how big your role is in his life until you’re forced to be apart. All it took was a few days for Felix to feel like something was missing

At first he’s in denial. What is he, a child? A grown man doesn’t need someone to lean on, or keep him company, or check on him...or to give him encouragement......make him laugh....listen to his problems............okay. Maybe he does. 

At the beginning he seems put together but gradually as the days go on Felix becomes socially intolerant. The only person he wants to talk with is you, and you’re not there. Anyone else can buzz off or they’re getting snapped at

No one says anything either. Sometimes you can’t when the only solution is so far away 

Felix works extra hard when you’re gone. No one’s there to force much needed breaks onto him. From morning till dusk he’ll train and only stop for meals.

It’s his distraction. Every time that familiar pang shows up the training dummy gets another slice 

What’s happened to him? He was never so dependent on another person. Yeah, he has people that he cares about but their presence was never a necessity in his life 

The pain only intensifies as he thinks of what you’re doing, the dangers you’re facing, other (men/women) making you smile-

Oh....Oh no. Dear god he’s in love que the dummy’s head being sliced off

He’s waiting in your room on the day you get back. You’ll walk in to see him reading at your desk, only for the book to snap shut when you open the door 

A bit roughly he’ll pull you in for a hug. Not too tight, if you wanted to escape it you could

“Look. I’ll only say this once so you better listen...don’t leave for that long ever again. If you have to then I’m going with. No arguments”        

Ashe:

He’s fine. It’s okay. Ten days in and life goes on, you know? Today he played with some of the stray cats in the monastery like he normally would. The only off part was that he forgot to bring fish treats, normally you’d do that. 

Then he ordered some sweet buns for dessert after dinner; it was his usual order on your rare dates. Those days you’d snatch one but this time they were all his

He had them in the garden with some mint tea and watched the sun set. The last time he did that you decided to braid his hair while he told bad puns about his patchy facial hair fiasco. This time he viewed in tranquil silence 

Later in the evening he practiced archery to unwind. Lately Caspar agreed to be his training partner with you gone. He’d collect the arrows shot and help reposition the targets. You would normally do the same and in turn Ashe would wake up extra early to help you in the morning. 

At night he curled up in bed with “Loog and the Maiden of Wind,” picking up from where he left off. It was easy since you had given him a copy with a built-in cloth bookmark for his birthday. He loves it to pieces. 

Please come home When his eyes began to feel heavy he tucked it under his pillow for the day. 

Under the covers he shifted to get comfortable, and just like every night he ended up cuddling one of his pillows 

How much longer 

He closed his eyes 

....

..........

What was taking so long? The professor never mentioned that the journey would take weeks? There haven’t been letters either...

Where are you? What are you doing? Do you miss him? Are you eating properly? Are you sleeping right? He should have asked Seteth to let him accompany you. Are you on your way home? Should he go ask? No, it’s late. Asking now would be a bother-

 He misses you so much. No amount of time spent absorbing himself in different hobbies makes the discomfort in his chest go away. Everything reminds him of you. 

When you come home he’s front and center at the gate. The professor had taken pity on the boy (courtesy of Flayn’s plea) and arranged his schedule to be free all day. He spent it chatting with gatekeeper until troops appeared in the distance 

The moment you’re in sight he’s skipping down the stairs and greets you with the warmest embrace. The second you pull back he’s peppering kisses on your cheeks. 

“You’re back! I’ve missed you so much I can’t even begin to explain. Let’s go eat dinner and you can tell me all about the trip” 

Sylvain:

Is it weird that with you gone Sylvain actually begins to be a productive human being?

He spends the newfound spare time at the stables with the horses, or helping with chores around the monastery. Very rarely is he found goofing off 

Weird. Most would expect him to let loose considering how you have him on a ‘ball and chain,’ as he puts it 

So???? How come he chooses now to be responsible. 

Simple. He only acts rebellious to get a rise out of you

Just kidding lol. Only partially

While he does get a free show out of your nagging, it isn’t the reason he behaves like that. Neither why he’s suddenly ‘turned over a new leaf’

Sylvain highly respects you. Not only do you work hard but you’re also one of the most genuine people he knows. He’ll never say it to your face but before he loved you Sylvain looked to you as a role model. He never could have imagined that someone with such an authentic set of emotions would become his partner 

He also puts you through hell with all the trouble he gets in. Anyone else would have ended the relationship by now with so many FALSE rumors of adultery on his end. Yet you never gave up on him.  

In short, you’ve stood by him through thick and thin. From daily mess ups to the more deeper problems. You’ve been a major pillar that he leans on.

So that’s what he’s going to be for you. While you’re away he’s going to pick up the slack and make sure there’re no messes waiting for you to come home to 

Just him and maybe a few snide jokes. You know, a couple of dramatic whines about all the trouble he went to in making sure your room stayed clean 

Sometimes it gets difficult to turn down the invites from his peers, but he holds strong. The change is so drastic that Byleth even jokes about sending you away more often. 

He takes it with a grain of salt. They’d never exploit their students like that and he knows it 

When you arrive home he’s waiting patiently in your room. In one arm there’s a blanket and in the other a feather duster c’mon he has to make this believable

“Well there’s the (man/woman) of the hour. Do you realize the horrors that I’ve endured these past weeks? I cleaned this room EVERY DAY. You owe me big time!”  

Sylvain demands that for all the worry, strife, and hard labor you put him through; he deserves an afternoon nap with his partner. Will you let him slack off?

Annette: 

Busy, busy, busy!!!

She has so many chores to get done, books to read, people to talk to, and songs to sing 

She hated to say goodbye, but eventually you’ll come home. This isn’t like before. You’re not like him. 

Annette trusts you

She loves you 

While you’re gone she’ll think of all the things you can do together when you get back. What’s a better way to use the time, right? 

She 100% plans to blackmail you into treating her for lunch. How could you leave her behind to watch over everyone by herself? So cruel...

There are mild worries that fill her heart. Thoughts on your health for one. Whether you’re skilled in faith or not it doesn’t matter to her. 

She kind of wishes that the professor scheduled her to fight as well. However, things were better this way.

Annette will make sure you have somewhere wonderful to return to 

She even writes a small ‘welcome home’ jingle! Anything to bring out your smile 

People will occasionally ask how she’s holding up. After all, if Annette doesn’t worry about herself then of course others will do it for her. 

And yeah. Sometimes it does get rough. She’s human and naturally her partner means the world to her. Who the hell would be okay with sending their loved one away? 

It’s just that if she isn’t optimistic than who will be. Who’s going to give you encouragement when you need it most? Isn’t that what being a couple is about? To have faith and believe in each other? 

That’s why she’s okay. She’ll sing those fear demons away and take comfort in knowing you’ll come home with everyone else

And when you do she’s there with a few of your favorite flowers. She’ll congratulate you on a job well done whether the battle was a win or lose, and literally force you into her dorm to talk the hours away.

“Welcome home! I had plenty of time on my hands while you were away so I wrote a small song...i-if it’s okay then can I sing it for you? I promise it’s not about tasty cakes this time haha!” 

Mercedes:

The daily church hymn lifts her spirits. Mercedes’ devout faith is what supports her during moments of weakness 

You’ve probably guessed this, but every day you’re in her prayers. 

Not that you weren’t before, but now she spends a little more time mulling over possibilities of danger. Some extra blessings couldn’t hurt either 

She does find her thoughts trailing over to you often as well. Not anything negative but instead the happier memories. Saying goodbye was a rough blow when realization hit that your return date wasn’t definite 

Alas, the goddess will protect you. Mercedes steels herself to be patient and invest her energy into more productive things 

Mercedes is sort of like the big sister of all her friends. The doting type. Without you around she has all this pent up affection, and the lions get the blunt end of it

They’re an outlet that she uses to distract herself from not having you around. Not that they necessarily mind it (maybe Felix but he’ll get over it)

The time she’d spend with you is used to bake for the monastery children, or help with chores. She uses it wisely and also works on some of her own hobbies. 

You may or may not find some well-stitched embroidery on your socks. She goes all out and even offers to help mend Dimitri’s battle-worn cape. That thing needed a literal miracle to return to it’s former glory 

Life isn’t much different aside from your lack of presence. With each day she finds herself looking forward to your return, and occasionally she’ll inquire with the professor about it. Mercedes is known for her patience, and it truly is a virtue in many cases. Definitely in this one. 

When note of your future return arrives she can’t help but smile. If allowed she’ll ask to read the letter of notification herself and will do so with incredible focus. She’ll clutch one hand to her chest in relief before giving it back and leaving to return to her duties 

and so it goes until your return. She might not be able to come meet you at the gate, but at first sighting she’ll engulf you in an embrace. 

After a once-over for any injuries, she’ll insist that you have tea together. Hell, Mercedes would be happy if you two could just chat together on the nearest bench. There’s so much to talk of and now you two have all the time in the world 

“It’s so nice to see you again! Oh my...it feels like forever since I have seen you smile. I almost forgot how contagious is is haha” 

Ingrid: 

If it was up to Ingrid than she would be positioned right at your side. You two work well as a duo both on and off of the field. The army would benefit from your skills being magnified as a team 

She also wouldn’t have to deal with this ungodly sense of dread in the pit of her stomach. Don’t misunderstand- Ingrid isn’t the protective type. She trusts in your capabilities both as a fighter and person. It’s only that being away for so long is a rarity, and she needs time to adjust. 

She’d just have to trust in the other people stationed at your side to do what she can’t  

If she knows any of them personally then Ingrid 100% approaches to ask that they watch your back 

That takes care of any worry, but not of the crack in her daily life 

Ingrid has much on her shoulders. Her family, Fargeus’ future, her friends, what food’s being served in the dining hall, if it tastes good or not, the church, the ‘flame emperor’, and you of course.

She’s also the type of person who likes uniformity: a schedule. You’re a part of that and being so far disrupts it. She’s afraid that her personal emotions will tap into her ability to fulfill her duties  

Everyone else assures her otherwise. Ingrid is known for always giving 110% so a while of just 100% is no big deal. She is allowed to be human 

She’s allowed to miss you. Her friends assure her of it 

She’s allowed to worry. There’s no need to sear shut her fears. After losing Glenn...well, it’s understandable. 

She’s allowed to ask for news updates. The professor has encouraged this. 

She’s allowed to go in your room if she needs alone time. You said so before leaving. 

However, Ingrid doesn’t allow herself those comforts until days after your departure. When you said goodbye it unsettled her stomach in more ways than one. It took some time to sort through her emotions while still maintaining her responsibilities

It took everything for Ingrid to move on from the past, and this experience set in a sense of gratitude for all that she’s been given. It also was an opportunity for her to reminisce over what she has lost, and still has to do. 

Needless to say, when you return Ingrid has gained a newfound confidence and comfort in not having a set schedule for life. Everything has always felt as if it needed to be rushed, but meeting you wasn’t something she had planned nor sped into. Spending some time to focus on her own personal goals aside from the ones preset for her before birth aided in Ingrid coming to terms with that. 

“Hello. It’s been so long that I hardly recognize you! What? It’s a joke!...Yes, I know how to tell jokes- hold on this is supposed to be a heartfelt reunion so don’t ruin it!” 

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Precious (One-Shot)

M/F Pairing: Y/N x Choi San (Ateez)

Warnings: language, alcohol use, stripping? (lol is that a warning?)

Genre: Action AU; Spy AU

Word Count: 7K

Summary: Choi San is one of the best investigators in PD Kim Hongjoong’s agency, especially when it comes to the baddest mafia gangs. However, despite the inherent risk of his job, nothing could shock him more than the discovery that his wife might be cheating on him with another man!

A/N: This is actually based on a scene from the movie True Lies. Oh, and go hard San, like damn! 👇

San understood the inherent risk of chasing down mafia gangs who always tried their best to test his patience, especially when it involved saving their own ass. However, it made his job much easier when the ones he targeted would quickly betray their own men without any hesitation. For example, when San first brought the agency’s newest scumbag into the interrogation room, he sat him down underneath the low-hanging lamp with his hands tied behind the chair. And San fully expected to encounter another stubborn punk who insisted that he didn’t know anything about the drug cartel that San was investigating. Of course, that would be utter bullshit, but San was also pleasantly surprised to find a man who was balling his eyes out while begging San to spare his life.

“What if I don’t think you deserve to live?” San asked the man, toying with the knife that he held in his hand.

“Please!” the man cried. “I’ll tell you anything!”

“Yeah? Who do you work for?”

“Kim! From the downtown shipyard,” the man said, spilling his secrets as freely as the tears that were falling down his greasy mug.

“That so?” San asked, circling around the man who whimpered when he could no longer see him.

“I’m being cooperative, sir, just cut me some slack!”

San laughed. “What’s Kim doing these days?”

“I don’t know! He’s messing around with some gang downtown, but they aren’t expecting a new shipment until this weekend.”

“What kind of shipment?”

“Cocaine, marijuana, heroin...the usual shit!”

“Who’s he selling to?”

“It’s just a couple of local dealers. He wants them to buy strictly from his organization.”

“Really?” San asked, humming thoughtfully to himself. “What time?”

“Midnight on the East Dock! There’s a boat coming in with the product!”

San sighed because he was somewhat disappointed that the asshole was so compliant. It meant that he couldn’t play with him using his favorite set of knives. “I guess I’ll let the rest of my men deal with you.”

San immediately started for the door, smirking when he could hear the guy calling out to him: “What do you mean!? I told you everything!”

He closed the door quietly, turning to look at his partner Wooyoung who was waiting expectantly with a cheap cup of coffee in hand. “Well?”

“Check the tape,” San said. “He spilled everything.”

“Hell, yeah, dude,” Wooyoung cheered. “I can finally go home before fucking midnight.”

San’s shoulders dropped as he checked the time. “Damn, that means I’m late.”

“Late?”

“My wife was throwing me some kind of birthday party tonight,” San said, already dreading the idea of facing Y/N’s disappointment when he returned home.

“Hey, I’m sure Y/N will understand,” Wooyoung said. “This happens all the time, right?”

San glared at his friend because that comment certainly wasn’t helpful. “Because I have to stay at work all the time.”

“Dude, seriously? Everything’s fine,” Wooyoung continued. “Let’s go tell Hongjoong the good news and then you can go home and make love to your wife or whatever.”

San rolled his eyes, but quietly acquiesced, and he followed Wooyoung as he led them both into the main control room. He was already waiting for them by the time they arrived, and Kim Hongjoong, despite his smaller stature, was one of the most intimidating men that San had ever met. Not only was he in charge of their private detective agency, but he also regularly tracked down some of the most ruthless gang members with ruthless accuracy, leading investigations with a confidence that defined his character.

Hongjoong also spent most of his time at the agency when he wasn’t participating in field work, and San offered him a generous nod as Wooyoung collapsed into one of the leather chairs. “Well?” Hongjoong asked, looking at San with a stern expression.

“He told me everything,” San said, smirking at a video of Park Seonghwa who had just entered the interrogation room on the screen monitor. He could see their unfortunate suspect pleading with Seonghwa as he attempted to slide the chair into the farthest corner of the room.

“Good,” Hongjoong replied. “He didn’t seem very aggressive.”

“He cried like a little bitch,” Wooyoung said.

“Anyway,” San interrupted. “I’m going home, Hongjoong. My wife is waiting for me.”

“Ah, well give her my best,” Hongjoong said, but San couldn’t help but frown at the comment because it was Hongjoong’s fault that his wife thought he was an insurance agent since they were undercover. Of course, San was also responsible because he wanted to keep his wife safe from the mafia gangs that they dealt with on a regular basis.

In any case, San bowed respectfully, and left the two men behind as Wooyoung launched into another story about his most recent exploit involving a girl from a bar downtown.

The lights were off when San finally entered his house, humming to himself because he wasn’t sure if his wife had gone to sleep. After all, she had made the time for his dinner at 9:00 PM, and San was several hours overdue. He could only hope that she hadn’t put too much effort into preparations, but that sort of wishful thinking was quickly blown away when he walked into the kitchen.

“Hey, baby,” San said, hesitating because he noticed that his wife had her arms crossed over her chest, sitting at the table where the remnants of San’s surprise birthday party were waiting in the form of a delectable cake and several neatly wrapped presents. “I’m sorry.” He sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “It was a long day.”

“That’s what you always say,” Y/N replied, and San knew that he was in trouble.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he said, but the words rang hollow in his own ears because San knew that there would be more nights like this in the future.

“I’m tired, San,” she replied, lowering her gaze to the floor. “We can talk about this later.”

San nodded, and his eyes followed his wife’s form as she trudged up the stairs with an absence of her usual exuberance. He groaned when he sat down at the table in her place, feeling his heart break at the beautiful decorations complimenting the natural elegance of their dining room. He knew that this couldn’t continue, and San needed to do something to convince Y/N that he still cared about her, even if that meant ignoring some of his work-related responsibilities.

Subsequently, the next morning San called the office and asked Wooyoung to handle his morning meetings. His friend protested at first, but San drove a hard bargain when he offered him free lunch for the remainder of the week. Wooyoung was suddenly much more accepting, and San was feeling excited about the suprise that he had planned for his wife. As such, he drove to Y/N’s office to surprise her for an impromptu date to the best restaurant in the city.

As he rode the elevator to the corresponding floor, San checked the time on his watch, smiling when he realized that he would catch Y/N right before she usually left for lunch. He also studied his appearance in the reflecting panels of the elevator, nodding once in reassurance when he stepped out into the hallway, enduring the endless maze of office cubicles to find Y/N’s desk. “Don’t blow this San,” he said to himself before walking in her direction.

He was almost there when he heard one of the assistants mention his wife’s name. “Y/N, your mystery man is on the line!”

San paused, faltering in his steps when he heard Y/N’s voice answer the phone call. “Hello? Mike?”

“Mike?” He whispered to himself, shuffling closer to overhear the remainder of the conversation.

“Today?” Y/N questioned. “Of course, I can meet you for lunch.” San swallowed hard, trying not to jump to conclusions. “I’d love that!” Y/N giggled. “I’ll see you then.”

San quickly darted into one of the empty cubicles, holding his breath when Y/N passed him on the way out of the office. His shoulders instantly deflated, and he could feel a bitter rage churning inside his stomach. “What the hell?” he cursed, reaching for his phone to call Wooyoung because he was nothing short of pissed off and nobody was safe from his wrath.

San watched from a distance as Wooyoung pulled up to the sidewalk, rolling down the window to greet San as he climbed into the passenger’s seat. “Hey, man,” Wooyoung said. “Welcome to the club. The same thing happened to me with wife number two, remember? She was a real piece of work.”

“But this is Y/N,” San argued, still shaken from the phone call. “She wouldn’t do this to me.”

“Hard to argue with the evidence,” Wooyoung said, shrugging like he wasn’t at all concerned. “Look, divorces are common these days. I’ll even let you crash on my couch.”

“It’s not going to happen,” San insisted. “There has to be something else.”

“What did you expect, San?” Wooyoung asked him. “You’re never there anymore.”

The brutal truth hit San like a freight train, and he fumbled with his seat-belt while holding out his cellphone. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not giving up on our marriage,” San said. “I’m fixing this before it gets any worse.”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened. “San, I don’t like that look on your face.”

“Relax,” San hissed, holding up the phone to his ear. He was pleased when one of the agency’s interns answered from the other end. “I’m coming back to the agency. I need someone to help me tap some phone lines.” 

“What!” Wooyoung screeched, but San ignored him as he shot off a series of orders to the poor intern who probably had no idea why San was so angry.

“Do it now!” San growled, assaulting the end phone call button before glaring out the windshield.

“San, are you fucking insane?” Wooyoung gasped. “This is a blatant misappropriation of funds! If Hongjoong finds out...”

“He won’t,” San interrupted. “Besides, I’m not doing anything that could hurt the agency.”

“But you’re talking about spying on your wife!”

“It’s not spying.”

“What the hell is your definition of spying, San?”

“Look, I’m just trying to keep this under control,” San retorted. “I would think that my friend might support me.”

“I do support you, San, but this is taking things too far!”

“Just drive back to the agency,” San growled. “I’m tired of arguing.”

San was pleased when several interns greeted him at the main office of their agency’s building. “Mr. Choi, we have the phone wires tapped at the work location and home address that you gave us.”

“Good,” San said, ignoring the way that Wooyoung was trying to get his attention while they entered the recording room.

“San!” Wooyoung pouted, hurrying to match his friend’s pace. “This is insane!”

“Get me some tracking equipment,” San added, throwing the command to the intern who nodded.

“Tracking!” Wooyoung exclaimed. “You’re gonna follow her?”

“Also, make sure that Hongjoong doesn’t find out,” San said, and Wooyoung waved his hands wildly through the air.

“Earth to San! Doesn’t it seem suspicious when you can’t tell Hongjoong about this?”

“He’ll make a big deal out of nothing,” San replied, checking the monitors that were supposed to record his wife’s future phone conversations.

“Nothing? Does this qualify as anything less than treason!”

San turned to look at his frazzled friend, holding his hands behind his back. “I’ve got everything under control, okay? And I need you to bring the van to my house tonight. I can sneak out Y/N’s purse and we can stitch in the GPS.”

Wooyoung sighed. “Anything else, your majesty?”

“Less attitude would be nice,” San told him cheekily, leaving Wooyoung to fume quietly to himself. In the meantime, San had one of the interns help him load some equipment into his car, ignoring the curious looks that he received from the other agents. Because whenever they attempted to inquire about the equipment, San would lie and tell them that he was doing some reconnaissance work from home.

Which wasn’t that far from the truth.

Later that night, San made sure that he was home early, surprising Y/N when he walked inside to offer her a gentle kiss in greeting. “San!” Y/N exclaimed. “You’re home?”

“Is that a problem?” San questioned.

“N-no,” Y/N stuttered. “But I wasn’t expecting you until later.”

“Hmmm...” San grinned. “I’ll be upstairs in the shower. Unless you want to join me?”

Y/N gasped, and her cheeks filled with an adorable blush. “Dinner...”

“It’s alright,” San said. “We can always mess around later.”

Y/N managed a nod which was nothing short of endearing, and San was even more convinced that he needed to keep a closer eye on his wife.

Thereafter, once he finished helping Y/N clean their dishes, they both returned to the bedroom upstairs. San immediately fell across the bed, enjoying the way that his mattress felt against his back after so many long hours at work. He also studied Y/N from the corner of his eye, formulating his next plan of action.

“I thought that we could have lunch tomorrow,” San said, and Y/N paused in front of the mirror.

“Oh,” she said. “I wish I had known sooner, babe, I’ve already made plans with some of my friends.”

“Really?” San asked, keeping a close eye on Y/N when he reached over onto the nightstand to grab her purse. “That sounds like fun.”

“It’s been a while,” she responded, covering her face with a delicate mask that gave San the perfect opportunity to quietly retreat into the bathroom. He immediately found the window above the sink, opening it just enough to toss out Y/N’s purse to an awaiting Wooyoung who was completely drenched from the rain.

“Yeah, thanks,” Wooyoung retorted, and San paused until he was around the corner of the house before returning to the bedroom.

“I’ll be right back,” San said, but Y/N was still distracted by the mess that she had made of her face mask. San chuckled to himself, hustling down the stairs to fling open the front door.

Thankfully, the agency’s van was parked in the driveway, and San waited by the door for Wooyoung who shakily offered him the purse. “You know, there’s still an opportunity for us to give up on this ridiculous plan.”

However, San’s silencing glare spoke louder than words. “What?”

“I mean, the GPS is at the bottom!” Wooyoung replied, flinching when San slammed the door in his face. 

In the meantime, San had re-entered the house with Y/N’s purse tucked under his coat, bringing it upstairs and returning it to its previous place on the nightstand. “Are you tried?” he asked Y/N, laying back down on the bed as he watched her.

“Yeah,” she said. “Do you have to be up early?”

“Not really,” San said, holding his breath as Y/N finally joined him on the bed. He carefully turned over on his side, dragging Y/N closer with one arm wrapped around her delicate waist. “You know,” he hesitated, “I feel really bad about coming home late.”

Y/N stiffened against his embrace. “Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s okay,” San said. “I should work on that. You deserve better.”

Y/N gave no acknowledgment of his comment. Instead, she muttered something about feeling exhausted because of work, and San simply nodded his head in response. “I love you, Y/N.”

However, Y/N didn’t offer anything in return, and San could feel his heart sinking low inside his chest.

When San arrived to work the next morning, he decided to finally address the mounting pile of paperwork on his desk. It was mostly just an excuse to remain in the office because one of the interns, who he had assigned to watch over the phone lines, might come to him with developing information concerning Y/N. Thus, San was certain that he needed to remain on standby since he might receive an update at any moment.

Eventually, the work was starting to become tedious, and he glared at the clock when lunchtime rolled around, wondering if his wife was going on some kind of lunch date with her “mystery” man. But to San, he wasn’t much of a mystery, just some bastard who thought that he could try and seduce his wife. Which, of course, made him San’s rival, and there was nothing that he wanted more than to confront this man and beat the shit out of him.

His violent thoughts made San feel restless inside his office, and he decided to visit the interrogation office where the interns had been stationed. However, during his brief walk down the hallway, he thought about Y/N and her dismissive attitude towards him from the previous evening. Was his wife really no longer interested in him? Would San have enough guts to give her a divorce if she asked for it?

He shivered at the scenario, but the unexpected sight of Wooyoung talking with his interns provided a good distraction. “What’s going on?” San demanded when he walked into the room, and Wooyoung immediately hid something behind his back. 

“San!” Wooyoung exclaimed, refusing to meet his gaze.

“You’re holding something,” San said.

“No...”

San rolled his eyes, cornering Wooyoung against the wall before reaching behind him to snatch away the transcript that his interns had likely created for him. Ignoring Wooyoung’s complaints, San started reading over the words, frowning when he realized that it was a conversation between his wife and Mike. “They’re meeting for lunch,” San said. “I know this restaurant.”

“Oh?”

San turned to address his interns. “Anything else?”

“No, sir,” one of them responded, and San reached behind him for the collar of Wooyoung’s well-pressed shirt.

“You’re coming with me,” San said.

“Where?” Wooyoung asked, and San held up the transcript that his friend immediately objected. “That’s really taking this too far, San!”

“Are you on my side or not?”

Wooyoung hesitated, appearing entirely conflicted, so San made his decision for him. He snatched Wooyoung’s familiar car keys from one of the desks, and Wooyoung only had a brief moment of realization before he was rushing to catch-up to San on the way out the front door. Unfortunately, San was beyond reason, ignoring Wooyoung’s attempts at rational conversation by opening the driver’s side door. “Take us there,” San requested, tossing his keys into the air before making himself comfortable on the opposite side.

Wooyoung was grumbling when he switched on the ignition. “This is really low, San.”

“You’re supposed to be my friend and partner.”

“I am!” Wooyoung said, slowly guiding them out into traffic. “Which is why I’m the most qualified to give you relationship advice, and I think that spying on your wife is a hard pass.”

“Says the same guy who’s already been divorced twice!”

“Yeah, and that means I know when you’re doing something wrong,” Wooyoung said. “And that we're doing right now? Wrong!”

“Just drive,” San insisted, and Wooyoung must’ve realized that his friend was stoically determined to follow through with his plan because he started quietly driving the rest of the way to the restaurant. “Pull in at the front,” San instructed him.

Wooyoung turned off the ignition, sighing as he leaned back in his seat. “There’s Y/N’s car.”

“Turn on the audio,” San said. “You put the microphone in her purse, right?”

“I stitched it myself,” Wooyung confirmed, reaching down to twist the knob on the machine attached to the radio.

There was mostly static until two distinct voices filled the rest of the car. “Hey, I’m so glad to see you,” a male voice said, and San assumed that it belonged to this Mike character.

“Of course,” Y/N responded timidly. “What did you need?”

“It’s important,” Mile said. “I think they’re coming for me tonight.”

“Tonight?” Y/N gasped, and San and Wooyoung exchanged a quick look.

“You’ll be there for me, right?” Mike asked, and San wrinkled his nose at the disgusting tone. “I have something to ask you.”

“Yes?”

“I can’t tell you until it’s safer,” Mike said. “Come home with me, tonight. We can talk in a place where they can’t follow us.”

“Damn, this guy moves fast!” Wooyoung laughed, but he immediately stopped when he noticed San’s fierce expression. “Oh, shit, I mean, that sleazy scumbag! Who does he think he is?”

“Just shut up,” San said, leaning in closer to the radio because Y/N was talking again.

“I have work until 5,” Y/N said.

“I’ll pick you up outside the office,” Mike replied, and there was a sound that reminded San suspiciously of the noise that he associated with Y/N’s delicate kisses.

“I’m beating the shit out of this bastard,” San declared, and Wooyoung shivered at his dangerous tone.

“Are we following them later?”

“Absolutely,” San agreed, reaching over to grab the GPS tracker. “I’m putting an end to this bullshit!”

Wooyoung simply nodded because he knew that San was past the point of talking him back from over the edge.

However, San was usually the type who could control his temper. In fact, he couldn’t remember a time when he had experienced what some might call “blind rage,” but he came pretty close when he watched his wife get in a stranger’s car without any hesitation. Consequently, San was forced to take several deep breaths to clear the red clouding his vision, waiting until he was mostly clear-headed again to open his eyes. Thankfully, Wooyoung was already following Y/N and Mike, maintaining a safe distance so that they wouldn’t suspect anything.

“Keep on that car until they stop,” San instructed his friend, gripping tightly to the dash while they continued to follow Y/N and Mike through the relatively empty streets.

After twenty minutes of tense driving, they finally pulled into a modest apartment complex where Mike pulled in the driveway of one of the units. “He lives there?” Wooyoung asked, driving past their car.

“Turn back around at the end of the road,” San said while pulling out his cellphone. “I’m calling for back-up.”

“Back-up?!” Wooyoung repeated, but it was too late to change San’s mind and he was already ordering most of Hongjoon’s agents off the street to arrive at the complex.

“This is insane!” Wooyoung loudly whispered, stopping his car at the sidewalk near Mike’s apartment just in time to see Y/N walking inside with the other man.

San reached behind him for the gun that he kept on the backseat. “You aren’t shooting him, are you?” Wooyoung asked, but San’s response was nothing but a crooked smirk as he re-loaded the weapon.

Much to Wooyoung’s horror, the other agents were also fast to arrive on the scene, and San greeted Yunho and Mingi who had been dealing with a drug bust downtown. “What do we got?” Mingi asked when he recognized San.

“Some kind of undercover exchange,” San lied. “Clear out the back of the van for me.”

“Do we have any details?”

“Two people,” San explained. “One man and a woman. The dude is complete trash and you can leave him to me, but the woman is innocent, so just try and get her out safely.”

“Yes, sir,” Yunho said, teasing San with the directive. 

“Get your agents ready,” San replied because he wasn’t in any mood to joke around.

Graciously, Yunho and Mingi immediately complied, shouting orders into their walkie-talkies while several agents emerged from around the house, completely dressed from head to tie in their uniforms. Actually, the entire complex was surrounded by Hongjoong’s agents with their sleek black cars, and various cases of equipment and weapons ready for their disposal. “Are you ready?” San asked Wooyoung, covering his face with a mask to disguise his identity.

Wooyoung did the same with a grunt. “I’m sure Y/N will never forget this night.”

San ignored him, checking the safety on his gun, before he stationed himself next to the front door of the apartment. He gave a signal to the agent across from him who nodded once, taking a step back to kick down the door with force, and chaos quickly unraveled as the small apartment was filled with dozens of armed men shouting and aiming their guns in the direction of the two people situated rather scandalously on the couch. 

San recognized Y/N’s screams, eyes widening when he noticed that Mike had somehow made himself rather comfortable in close proximity to his wife. San grabbed the sleazy bastard who was still between his wife’s thighs, jerking him back by the collar of his shirt. “You piece of shit,” San grunted, tossing the man onto the ground to cuff his hands.

“What’s happening!” Mike cried, struggling against San’s grip. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yeah, right, asshole,” San muttered, forcing Mike to stand on his own two feet again before searching for Wooyoung. “Get Y/N.”

Wooyoung nodded, approaching Y/N carefully because her eyes were filled with fear and she was looking around at all the action unfolding. “Let’s go, Ma’am,” Wooyoung said with a wince, trying his best to disguise his regular voice because Y/N might recognize him.

“Who are you?” Y/N demanded, but Wooyoung didn’t try to explain, reaching for her arm.

Y/N shrieked and fought against Wooyoung’s hold, even as Wooyoung maintained his grip. “Oh, come on, Y/N, don’t be like this.”

“You asshole!” Y/N screamed, turning around to knee Wooyoung between the legs and the younger man immediately collapsed to the ground.

“Holy shit,” Wooyoung cried. “That fucking hurt!”

His loud curse attracted San’s attention, and he brought Mike to another agent with strict directions to throw him in the back of the van. Meanwhile, he ran after Y/N who was flailing her arms while tripping in her high heels. “Damn,” San gasped, fighting for air when he finally caught up to Y/N. 

“Who are you people?!” Y/N shrieked, kicking out her legs when San wrapped an arm around her upper torso. He certainly hadn’t expected his wife to fight them so much, especially when she leaned down to bite him. However, he only groaned in complaint and fought against the pain while he managed to drag Y/N back to another agent’s car. 

“Take her to the agency,” San instructed one of the other men. “In the interrogation room.”

“Yes, sir,” the agent said, and San waited until he was driving off before he confronted Wooyoung who was still hunched over on his knees. 

“Come on,” San said, tapping his foot against him.

“You try getting kicked in the dick,” Wooyoung spat, using San’s suspenders to help himself back up. “God, you stupid prick,” Wooyung howled, still feeling the effects of Y/N’s kick while he flipped off Mingi and Yunho who were laughing at his expense.

“Job well done, gentlemen,” Yunho said, flashing San a quick thumbs-up as he settled himself behind the wheel of the van.

“Ignore him,” San told a still seething Wooyoung before they drove off in the direction of Hongjoong’s agency.

The interrogation room was incredibly high-tech with an indestructible Plexiglas wall separating the room itself from the attached studio which was filled with expensive equipment. Wooyoung and San sat together in the studio, watching Y/N as she stormed around the room, screaming and yelling while demanding to be heard. “She’s something else,” Wooyoung remarked.

“Do we still have the voice changing microphone?” San asked.

“Of course,” Wooyoung said, reaching behind him for the appropriate instrument. “Let me get it ready.”

San nodded, thoughtfully considering Y/N who had passionately refused to sit down even after facing stern directions from one of the interns. She had always been passionate, refusing to give in to others, and it was a big part of the reason why San had fallen in love with her in the first place. It was also impossible to describe Y/N’s beauty because, even after such a long and chaotic evening, she still managed to look good in nothing but casual jeans and a simple blouse.

“Good evening, Mrs. Choi,” Wooyoung spoke into the mic, and his voice echoed inside the interrogation room. “We’d like to ask you some questions. It’s in your best interest to cooperate.”

However, Y/N appeared less than compliant, and she furiously slammed her hands against the glass. “Who are you! What do you want from me?”

“Calm down, Mrs. Choi,” Wooyoung said, flinching when San abruptly took the microphone from him.

“We found you with an incredibly dangerous man, Mrs. Choi,” San said. “Can you tell us how the two of you met?”

“Dangerous?” Y/N repeated, looking nothing short of confused. “Mike?”

“How do you know him?”

“We met when I was having lunch alone one day,” Y/N said. “He came up to me with a briefcase and said that he was being followed by some suspicious agents.”

“Why?”

“He works undercover,” Y/N explained. “His work seemed really important.”

“So important that you decided to help him?” San asked.

“Well,” Y/N hesitated. “He said he needed me.”

“Needed you in what way, Mrs. Choi?” Wooyoung took over, much to San’s displeasure.

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “What the hell are you insinuating?”

“Is it because your husband isn’t pleasing you anymore, Mrs. Choi?” Wooyoung asked, whining when San grabbed the microphone from him.

“Let me handle this,” San said, before turning his attention back to Y/N. “Why did you keep meeting him, even though you barely knew who he was?”

“I don’t know,” Y/N said, throwing out her hands desperately. “I guess it’s stupid, but I kinda liked that he was involved with something top secret. It seemed really special for me to be a part of it.”

“Special enough for you to cheat on your husband?” San practically spat into the microphone.

“Wait a minute! How do you know that I’m married?”

“We know everything, Mrs. Choi,” San said, quickly trying to make-up for his slip. “Did you sleep with him?”

“I hardly see how that’s any of our business!”

“Answer the question,” San insisted. “Your compliance with us could help your case.”

“My case?”

“Of course,” San said. “You were found with a wanted man. That makes you an accomplice.”

Wooyoung cleared his throat. “Isn’t that a little too much?”

San shook his head, determined to get to the bottom of things. “No, I didn’t,” Y/N finally said. “Satisfied?”

“Were you attracted to him?”

“No!” Y/N cried. “What do these questions have to do with anything?”

“I just have one more thing for you, Mrs. Choi,” San said, taking a deep breath as he braced himself for the answer. “Do you still love your husband?”

Y/N sighed, looking around the steel-gray walls of the room. “Yes,” she said. “I still love him.”

“Terrific!” Wooyoung whispered. “She still loves you! Everything's fine.”

However, San still had one more thing in mind. “You want some adventure in your life, Mrs. Choi,” San said carefully. “That’s good because we might have a solution to our problem concerning your association with Mike. Otherwise, we’ll have to turn you into the authorities.”

“Well!” Y/N exclaimed. “I guess I don’t have a choice.”

Wooyoung covered the microphone, looking at San with suspicious eyes. “What the hell are you planning?”

San smirked at Wooyoung. “If she wants some excitement, then I’m going to give it to her.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes, but remained silent. “Mrs. Choi,” San said. “How do you feel about doing some undercover work for us?”

After ensuring that one of the agency’s interns could safely return Y/N home, Wooyoung and San drove quietly to the edge of town to deal with Mike. They pulled the van off the road next to a large overpass, dragging him out screaming and crying from the back. But despite his attempts to break free, San held him perilously at the edge of an enormous dam. “Please,” Mike cried. “Don’t kill me.”

San rolled his eyes, even though Mike probably couldn’t tell from behind his mask. “Did you really think you could get away with it?”

“What are you talking about?” Mike questioned. “You’ve got the wrong guy!”

“It’s all over,” Wooyoung said. “Your career as a spy is well-documented.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“No, seriously, I’m just a car salesman,” Mike cried. “I’ve never done anything wrong!”

“Why did we find you with that young woman?” San asked. “We overheard you telling her all about your secret as a spy!”

“It’s only because I have to lie to get laid,” Mike said. “I made the whole thing up because I was trying to impress her!”

“A married woman?” San asked.

“I’m sorry,” Mike said, and there were actual tears streaming down his face. “I’m the biggest coward in the world!”

“Get the fuck out of here,” San grunted, jerking Mike’s hands free from his shirt.

“As soon as I’m not looking I know that you’re gonna shoot me!” Mike declared, walking backwards as he looked back and forth between San and Wooyoung.

San pushed him out of the way, reaching for the driver’s side door of the van. Meanwhile, Wooyoung turned around to confront the frazzled man. He reached for his gun, firing off a few rounds into the air while Mile immediately covered his head. “Fuck off, dude.’”

One Week Later

The hotel made for the perfect cover, and an ideal situation to carry out San’s plan for his wife, even if Wooyoung was less than enthusiastic. He was currently helping San arrange the room to his liking, moving one of the chairs into the shadows of the curtains. His partner also handed San a tape recorder, and San smiled at him gratefully. “Look,” Wooyoung said. “I had one of the interns record some shit. Just play the phrases whenever you need to talk to her.”

It was a good way to disguise his voice, and sitting in the corner would help keep his identity protected. “Did you arrange everything with her?” San asked.

“We had an agent call the house earlier with instructions,” Wooyoung said. “We told her that she was meeting a man who’d be expecting an exotic dancer. She’s supposed to tell you that the regular girl is sick.”

“What did you ask her to do?”

“We dropped off an envelope by her office,” Wooyoung explained. “Her job is to plant the bug on the nightstand without you noticing.”

San chuckled. “And who does she think I am exactly?”

“A very wealthy man,” Wooyoung said, reaching for his phone when it started ringing. He answered in quietly, stepping off to the side of the room while San finished arranging a bouquet of roses next to the little side table where he would be sitting for most of the night. Despite the fact that this whole night had been his idea, he was still nervous about how his wife would handle everything, and there was inherent risk of exposing his identity that he was trying to ignore.

“She’s on her way up,” Wooyoung announced.

“Then, you should go,” San said, ushering Wooyoung towards the door, even while his partner flipped off the light switches as he passed them.

“I’ll be in the lobby in case something goes horribly wrong,” Wooyoung said. “Since it might considering how insane this entire plan is!”

“Relax,” San said, giving him a friendly pat on the ass. “I have everything under control.”

Wooyoung still appeared doubtful, but he gave his friend the benefit of the doubt, and San made sure that the door was closed and unlocked before he settled himself on the chair that he placed in the corner of the room. He sat down with a nervous exhale, wondering if he should cross his legs or not, and he held the tape recorder behind him. There was no turning back from the plan, and San anxiously anticipated Y/N’s arrival, finally deciding to leave his legs spread out in front of him.

It was only a few minutes later that he heard the sound of the front door opening, waiting with a pounding heart as Y/N entered the room. San swallowed hard when Y/N approached, wearing one of the sexiest dresses that he had ever seen in his entire life. His eyes trailed down the skin of her exposed legs, moving back up again to pause on the tight fit around her breasts. He cleared his throat and reached behind him for the tape recorder. “What’s your name?” 

San jumped when he noticed that the recording's voice was much deeper than his, and it was also slightly accented.

“Y/N,” she whispered, and her tone certainly didn’t match the intimidating outfit that she wore. “The regular girl was sick, but she thought you would like me.”

“Let me determine that for myself.”

Y/N nodded, reaching behind her for the zipper, but San quickly rewound the tape. “No, do it slowly for me.”

She was hesitant, but San sat up straighter when she turned around to undo the zipper on the back of the dress, allowing it to fall onto the floor. San cleared his throat, taking in the sight of Y/N wearing a black set of lingerie, and the panties barely covered her ass when she made a complete circle to look at San again for directions. “Dance for me,” the recording instructed. “I want to see how sexy you are.”

Y/N paused while San reached out to turn on the radio, adjusting the volume for the heavy bass song that began to play throughout the room. San waited, taking in a deep breath when her hips started to move, and it was awkward at first, until she finally found the beat, dragging her hands over her gorgeous body. San watched as her hands traveled over her breasts, moving them down sensuously to tease the waistband of her underwear.

At this point, San’s heart was practically leaping into his throat, and the music sounded unbelievably loud inside his ears. Y/N was clearly distracted by her own dancing, closing her eyes as she continued to hypnotize San with the tantalizing way that she undulated her hips. San groaned at the display because he was uncomfortably hard in his black trousers, reaching down to adjust himself as he watched Y/N grind herself against the bed post.

She dropped lower to the ground, pushing her ass out in San’s direction, and every bit of blood in his body had moved south to fill his cock. It took everything that he had not to launch himself at his wife who was using the post as support to sway her body from side to side. San closed his eyes, leaning over to turn down the radio so that Y/N could hear the tape recorder again.

“Lie on the bed and close your eyes.”

Y/N stumbled in her heels at the unexpected order, but she still obeyed, gently lowering herself vertically across the hotel’s king-sized bed. In the meantime, San took a flower from the vase next to him, walking over to Y/N to drag the velvety petals against her smooth skin. He was unable to help himself when he joined her on the edge of the bed, leaning down to claim Y/N’s irresistible red-glossed lips.  

He moaned against her mouth, resisting the urge to climb his fingers along her beautiful skin that was practically glowing from the light penetrating through the curtains. It had been a long time since he had kissed his wife so passionately, and he was determined to make her feel good tonight. Of course, distracted by the moment’s pleasures, San failed to realize that Y/N had grabbed the alarm clock from the corner of the nightstand until she was hitting him over the head with the offending object. “Pervert!” she shouted, immediately rising from the bed. San grunted as he collapsed to the floor, feeling the dizzying effects of the hit that he had just taken courtesy of his wife’s powerful aim.

However, he quickly came to realize that Y/N was trying to put on her dress while limping haphazardly for the exit. “Y/N,” San shouted, and his wife paused. “It’s me!” He removed the mask and held up his hands, watching Y/N’s eyes grow wide with shock.

“San?” she gasped, and her entire body was suddenly shaking.

“Yes, it’s me,” San whispered, hoping to calm her down.

“H-How?” she asked, clutching the dress tightly to her chest.

“I’m not an insurance agent,” San said, carefully approaching his wife like she might flee at any moment. “I work for a private detective’s office downtown, but I had to lie because I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“What?” Y/N questioned, pulling at the strands of her hair as if she couldn’t process anything that he was saying. “None of this makes sense!”

“It was me that night with Mike or whoever,” San revealed. “I interrogated you in that room, and I had some of the agents organize this night for us!”

“San, you sound insane right now!” Y/N said.

“I know,” San agreed, trying to reach out for Y/N, but she quickly took another step back. “I’m so sorry for everything, baby. I couldn’t stand the thought of you getting hurt because of the stuff that I did at work, so I made up a cover to protect you!”

“You?” Y/N repeated, and San wasn’t sure if it was a question or just his wife’s attempt to make sense of everything. “Y-you're being honest? This was your idea?”

San nodded. “Look, I have a badge and everything,” he said, reaching into his pocket to extract his wallet, holding it out for Y/N who took it with narrowed eyes. “I’ve been working at the agency for years. That’s I’m always home so late because my cases sometimes are more difficult than others.”

Y/N had taken out his badge, studying it with an expression that he had never seen from his wife before. Finally, she dropped the wallet and badge onto the floor, inhaling once as she addressed him. “I can’t believe you’ve lied to me.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” San said, desperately trying to make amends. “I know it was wrong to keep this from you, but I thought it would help you.���

“Help me?” Y/N spat. “Really, San? Because I love thinking that my husband is an insurance agent who spends all night at his office, but it turns out that he’s secretly keeping another identity from me since he could actually die!”

“I’m hardly ever in danger,” San said, but he realized that Y/N wasn’t quite as accepting. 

“And what’s this dancing thing all about?” she asked. “You literally tricked me into coming here so you could watch me dry hump the bed?”

“That’s not it, Y/N,” San said. “I- I heard what you said in the interrogation room. You said that you wanted to do something special.”

“But not after my husband lied to me!” Y/N said, meeting San across the room to sharply push against his shoulders. “Is our marriage a cover too?”

“Of course not,” San said, shaking his head. “Y/N, I love you more than anything else in the world.”

“If you loved me, then we wouldn’t be in this situation,” Y/N said. “I feel humiliated!”

“I’m sorry,” San tried again. “This is all my fault, and you can hate me for the rest of your life, but I never wanted to hurt you. Because I’ve loved you long before I became an agent, and I just want you to know that I care about your happiness, even if sometimes seems like I’m the world’s biggest asshole.”

Y/N sniffled, studying San for several long moments. “I believe that you love me,” she finally said. “And I still love you too, but we’re gonna talk about this! Do you hear me?”

“Of course,” San agreed.

“Especially about this disaster,” she continued. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“Well,” San said, searching for the correct words. “You look really hot...”

“Shit! I’m still fucking mad at you!” Y/N said, but there was also a carnal energy in her eyes that had San hesitating. “I swear to God I’ll make you pay for this!”

“Is that a promise?” San asked, and Y/N didn’t hesitate to throw her weight against him in a furious kiss as they both landed on top of the luxury bed.

[leaves-of-three]

Day Eleven: Part Two || Soon

Connor Murphy x Reader

Word Count: 1713

Summary: A continuation to Day Eleven. Getting ready for a date with a Connor and a slight change of plans.  [This is part of an in progress series. You can follow along here.]

Author’s Note: This is kinda short. I was only gonna have two parts to day eleven. The first half when he asks her on a date and then the date itself. But then the idea of using Connor to get back at a parent you’re pissed at sounded too appealing and it turned into this. And I wanted the actual dinner to be separate piece because I got tired of writing this one lol idk I've just felt like crap lately. One of these days my writing will better maybe xKatie

You wanted to be happy. You wanted to be excited. You were technically going on a date with Connor. Sort of. You don’t just jump into someone’s arms and make out with them, then get asked to dinner by them the next day, if it wasn’t a date. Right? You should be happy. This was what you wanted. This was what you had been waiting for. 

Then how come the second you clicked out of facetime with him, you felt nothing? It was like the moment his face was out of your direct line of sight, you felt empty. Why did your mood change so suddenly? This morning you woke up beaming over Connor. Now you struggled to find the will power to get out of bed. You were laying there waiting for any sort of emotion to hit but nothing was coming. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes to into hours, and before you knew it darkness was creeping over your room. 

You hadn’t moved from your bed once. 

As it inched closer to 7, you finally forced yourself into the bathroom to take a shower. You’d probably feel excited when you started getting ready. You could shower, wash your hair, redo your make up, dry and curl your hair, and pick out an outfit. It should be fun. You used to love this part of getting ready for a date. You’d listen to music and dance around your room. Typically Alyssa would have been over to help. She’d give you advice on what to wear and what to say as long as you promised to fill her in on all the details afterwards. Your evenings would be filled with laughter, excitement, and hope. 

You missed having girlfriends. 

You missed laughing. 

The shower sputtered to life as you stood naked in your bathroom. You held your hand under the stream then quickly pulled it back. It was freezing. The hot water would take a few minutes to warm up. You shivered. Your house always ran cold. You grabbed a fluffy, white towel and wrapped it around yourself while you patiently waited for steam to start filling the tiny room. Opposite you sat the mirror hanging over the bathroom sink. Your eyes were drawn up to the reflection. 

There was nothing looking back. There was no life of a person behind your eyes. They were blank. For some reason you started to feel shameful, like you had done something wrong, like it was your fault that you weren’t able to feel the right emotions. You were supposed to be happy. The fact that you weren’t only caused you to be racked with guilt. Something was wrong with you. You weren’t working properly. 

You stayed staring into the void of your eyes until the mirror began to steam up. Your reflection became distorted and softened as the fog crept along the glass. When you could no longer see any distinguishing features of yourself, you hung your towel back up and stepped into the water. It stung your skin. Blood rose to your cheeks under the heat. You closed your eyes and let the water soak away your sins. 

Five minutes in and you had started crying. You were always crying. There was no in between. You were either crying or you were zoning out for hours. This afternoon had been a rare treat when you could actually function and get something productive done. Those special moments were few and fleeting nowadays. Whatever spark you had found earlier was gone. You would have to cancel on Connor. You couldn’t go out like this. No one wants a dinner date with a crying zombie. 

You rinsed off any remaining shampoo in your hair and turned off your shower. Your sniffling, quiet sobs sounded more prominent without the water to drown them out. Pathetic. You were pathetic. It would be impossible for anyone to ever find you attractive or desirable like this. Why were you even trying to trick yourself? To Connor, you were probably nothing more than a charity case that had been thrust upon him.

With a towel wrapped tightly around you, you pulled your hairdryer out from under the sink cabinet. If you wanted to cancel on him so badly then why were you still getting ready? Maybe you still had a some hope that your excitement would return and everything would go back to normal. It was a losing bet. Normal wasn’t something you were familiar with anymore. 

Hair dry. Curled. Brushed out into soft waves. 

Make up done. Foundation. Highlighter. Lashes. Winged liner. Natural lips. 

Clothes picked out. Skinny jeans. Loose top. Cardigan. Boots. 

Jewelry on. Necklace. Two rings. Painted nails. 

You evaluated your appearance in the mirror. You could make yourself look decent on the outside but you knew the truth. On the inside you were hollow and miserable. It would only be a matter of time before everyone else realized the truth too.

Connor: Today 6:58 pm: be there soon

Y/N: Today 6:58 pm: I’ll be waiting :)

The doorbell ran. You looked down at your phone in confusion. That was fast. He had just texted you. You grabbed your purse, slinging it over your shoulder, and pulled open the front door. 

You took a step back in surprise. Instead of seeing Connor, you came face to face with a woman you’d never see before. “Oh crap...sorry. I thought you were someone else,” you tried to force some sort of polite smile onto your face. “Can I help you?”

The woman smiled back. She was tall and slim. Her hair was dyed a shade of blonde that didn’t quite match her skin tone. The dye job made it look like a bad wig. She looked to be in her mid thirties. “You must be Y/N? It’s so lovely to finally meet you,” she spoke as if you were supposed to know who the hell she was. 

You gave her a look of confusion, “Uh, if you’re selling something, we don’t want it but thanks anyway...”

She laughed. Like her hair color, it was obviously fake, “No, no, sweetie.” You despised being called sweetie. “I’m Holly. Holly Silk?” She picked up that the name didn’t sound familiar so she added, “...Your dad’s girlfriend?”

Your stomach dropped. Since when was your father dating? He had never once mentioned or shown interest in that sort of thing since your mom had passed. It had been ten years. You felt naive to admit it, but you always believed that he would have stayed true to your mother, that the idea of seeing another woman would have been absurd to him. Your mind began to race through a million things at once. You felt sick. This was bound to happen eventually. If you thought about it realistically, of course he’d want to find someone to spend his time with. But why hadn’t he ever mentioned it to you? And why her? Holly Silk? That sounded like a name a porn star would make up. You hated this woman instantly. 

You gave her a snide smile and said in a sickly sweet voice, “I’m sorry, Holly. My father isn’t in at the moment. I’ll be sure to tell him you stopped by.” You went to close the door in her face. 

She put her hand out to stop it, trying not to look as annoyed as she felt, “Actually I was hoping I could come in and wait. I’ve been away on a business trip the past two days. I thought I would surprise Steven when he got home. I was going to cook his favorite meal.” She held up the grocery bags in her hands, “Tacos! I’ve brought all the fixings for them. Enough for all three of us to eat. I thought it would be a good time for us to get to know each other.” 

You scowled, “Actually my dad’s favorite meal is my dead mother’s famous lasagna recipe that we make every Christmas but good try.” 

Holly still did her best to hold up the smile plastered on her face despite her eyes flashing in displeasure, “Well regardless, maybe I come in? I’ve been waiting to get to know you for some time now. It’d be lovely to have dinner with you and your father.” 

That was the last thing on earth you’d ever want to be doing. Your anger for your father started to grow. How could he be seeing someone and not tell you? It was his fault she was showing up at your door. It was his fault some stranger was begging to come inside and cook with you. He was so oblivious to everything going on in your life. While you were out lost in a forest and having your entire life crumble around you, he was out fucking around with Ms. Porn Star Name. You had spent the past week crying yourself to sleep every night and he had no damn clue. Your mother would have known. She would have picked up on your change in behavior. She would have known how to take care of you. She would have been a parent. Your jaw clenched. Everything was your father’s fault, you decided. 

You crossed your arms as a plan formed in your head. An evil grin spread across your face. “Actually Helen-

“Holly,” she corrected.

“My bad. Actually Holly, I’m waiting for a date to show up and take me out to dinner. He should be here any moment. But if you didn’t mind, I could always invite him inside to eat with us. It could be a double date. I’m sure my father would be thrilled.” The idea of Connor, probably still on his high from earlier, with a face bruised and bloodied sitting to eat dinner with you and your dad’s girlfriend sounded like the perfect form of revenge. If your dad could surprise you with a new girlfriend then, surely, he wouldn’t mind if you surprised him Connor. 

Holly sighed in relief. She obviously had no idea what was in store. “That would be wonderful! I hope you don’t mind changing your plans for me?”

You pushed open the door and stepped aside for her. “No, no. It’s perfectly fine. Don’t worry. Please, come in. My date will be thrilled be to meet you...I’m sure of it.”